I saw his shoulders drop. I think he’d expected me to go full-on authoritarian with him, which only emphasized how important this accommodation was.
After a moment of letting him take that in, I added, “However, I am going to ask that before you question me, you think it through, see if you can figure out for yourself why I might demand something. If possible, give me the benefit of the doubt. I’d like to further request that at some future date, when we feel like the trust and comfort are there, we revisit that policy and see if you find a little unquestioning obedience to be to your taste. Sound fair?”
His mouth opened but then closed again. He thought about it. Really thought about it. Then he nodded a third time. “Yeah.”
“Anything you want to add to the negotiations?”
Geoff frowned. “This bathroom thing—this isn’t because some part of you is afraid I’ll be in there shooting up or something, is it?”
I reared back, probably looking like a fish on land with my mouth gaping open. “What? Wow. No. No, I swear, that wasn’t part of my reasoning.”
“Okay.” He blew out a breath, his eyes still troubled. “Because, you know, I’d be lying if I said there weren’t hemophiliacs whose access to all these prescription pain medications turned out to be a problem for them. But so far I haven’t developed any dependencies.”
“I believe you,” I said firmly, trying to regain my equanimity. One of these days I’d stop being completely taken aback by how suspicious he was of the way other people perceived him. But then, maybe someday he’d stop feeling like he had reason to be so suspicious. “Promise me you’ll let me know if you’ve taken anything stronger than Tylenol, even if it means we have to reschedule something we were looking forward to? Because I can’t emphasize strongly enough how important it is that we don’t play if either of us is at all under the influence.”
“Promise.” He gave me another wry smile. “Odds are if I’m feeling bad enough to hit the heavy stuff, I won’t be up to doing much anyway.”
That was true. Over the weeks while his quadriceps had been healing, we’d spent several evenings together in front of the TV or in bed before full dark because he’d had to take something for the pain.
I uncrossed my legs and closed the distance between us, kissing him until I had him flat on his back under me. When he was so much goo, I pulled away.
“The bathroom thing is about achieving a state of mind,” I said, leaning in to nuzzle his throat. “Within the negotiated boundaries, nothing’s off-limits, even the personal, inconsequential stuff. No modesty, no polite little barriers. That’s all it is. Okay?”
“Okay,” he agreed breathlessly. His cock was hard against mine, and he rocked up against me. “So, are you going to show me this playroom, or are we going to fuck right now?”
I laughed and rolled off him. “I’ll show you the playroom. Get naked, then go get cleaned up and ready to play.”
The bathroom rule really was going to be a challenge for him. He closed the door out of sheer habit when he first went in, and I barged in to remind him not to.
“I meant what I said. Never close a door between us.” I opened it as far as it would go without slamming it back against the wall. “Doesn’t matter if you’re bathing or taking a piss, you don’t hide anything from me.”
It wasn’t as though Geoff had any particular hang-ups about me seeing him nude. Skinny-dipping, visiting the sand dunes off the beach where most of the men were bare, soaking in the hot tub. He’d showered with and in front of me many times without any hint of modesty about it. But knowing that the potential for privacy had been taken away would make his awareness of its absence far keener.
I showed him briefly where everything was, and then left him to wash up on his own in the spacious tile bath with its glass-enclosed shower and Jacuzzi tub big enough for two. Since I could hear him no matter which of the two rooms I was in, I didn’t need to watch him; I just needed him to be aware that I could if I wanted to.
From the playroom, in particular, I could catch glimpses in the wide mirrors over the sinks. Which meant I observed out of the corner of my eye the way he dithered self-consciously before he finally gave in to the restriction and used the enema attachment.
I could see the shift in his frame of mind when he stepped, towel-dry but nude, over the threshold into the playroom.
Blackout curtains darkened the windows, and the room was strangely quiet thanks to the soundproofing. Against one wall leaned a padded St. Andrew’s cross, adapted with ladders of eyebolts along the outside of all of its struts, top and bottom. In a nearby corner, a swing built of leather straps hung from the ceiling. The walls were covered in shallow cabinets containing a pervert’s cornucopia of sex toys and pain implements. A nest of pillows on a futon-like pad occupied the floor in another corner, waiting for him to collapse upon it if he couldn’t manage to stagger the twenty feet to the bedroom.
I stood quietly, awaiting his reaction.
“Why soundproofing?” Of all the things he could have been curious about, I wasn’t expecting that. “I mean, no one else lives here, so why?”
I shrugged, realizing that now I felt self-conscious. “Well, I’d like to have a family in this house someday, but I don’t want to give up my other interests to do it.”
“Ah.” I could hear both of us overthinking that; me wondering if he’d be the one, and him wondering if he was the person I had in mind when I said that. And that was really more thinking than I wanted either of us to be doing tonight.
I pulled his attention back to the present rather decisively by shoving him against the padded wall, cupping a hand around the back of his head to keep it from impacting when the rest of his body did. I pried his mouth open, plunging my tongue inside, breathing in the faint chlorine scent of the treated water and the floral accents of the body wash he’d used. Geoff went limp, melting into the wall as I ground my clothed body against his bare one.
Afterward, I rested my forehead against his. “From now until you walk out the door or use your safeword, I’m in charge. You can ask questions, but I’m running the show. Understand?”
He nodded, and I caught his hair, tipping his head back.
“No. There’s no room here for any sort of confusion or ambivalence. You answer me aloud, and you speak clearly so I know you know what you’re agreeing to.”
He opened his eyes to stare back soberly. “Yes. I understand.”
“Good. Now go get your factor.”
I followed him into the bedroom and prepared his factor silently, taking my time about it for no other reason than I knew it was still something that made him antsy and eager to be finished. I touched him more than I really needed to as I handled his arm and inserted the needle, giving him plenty of contact on his bare skin.
When we were done, I led him back to the playroom and picked up four lengths of heavy black twill that clinked with D-rings every few inches.
“What are those?” Geoff blurted.
I smiled. These were an innovation I was particularly pleased with, and I’d spent a lot of time online trying to find disabled people or people with disabled partners who were in the scene, getting suggestions before I decided upon them.
“Arm and leg binders.” I held them aloft. “They’ll zip around your arms and calves, giving me points where I can bind you to the cross or swing or wherever. That way I can immobilize you without putting stress on your joints if you struggle. Now come here.”
Geoff stepped forward, still eyeballing the binders dubiously.
“Hold out your arms.”
I slid the sheaths up his arms and zipped them from wrist to shoulder. They fit like a second skin, allowing no wiggle room.
“Good. Come on.” I escorted him to a padded bench, which was narrow like a weight bench. It had a seat with thickly padded knee rests on either side of it, and a sloped, elevated back that ended in a face cradle, adapted from a massage chair like the one he used to work on back tattoos in his studio.
Facing forward, he could recline with his legs on either side of the bench, spread open. Or he could kneel and rest his chest against the slope, and he’d be semi-upright with his back exposed.
I knelt and wrapped his calves in black sheaths of the same strong twill. They zipped down the back, tapering from the swell of muscle at the top of his calf down to his ankle, and they had D-rings along the sides.
My goal was to give him a shallow overview of the myriad things we could do in this room. I placed a hand on his hip and nudged him toward the bench. “Can you take kneeling for a few minutes, or do I need to put you in the swing to have access to your ass?”
His breath caught at the casual crudity, which it always did. He loved dirty talk. “I can kneel.”
“All right, on the bench here, then, facing the back.” I positioned him on the incline, clipping the rings on his sleeves to bolts on the bench. Then I secured his calves to the knee-rests.
“Struggle a bit. I want to see if those binders are going to put pressure on your wrists or ankles.”
He jerked and tried to pull away before shaking his head. “I don’t know about a prolonged struggle, but right now it’s good. The only pressure is on my knees, and that’ll be okay for a few minutes.”
I nodded in satisfaction. “Okay. There shouldn’t be any reason for you to put up a prolonged struggle today, but we’ll give it a more exhaustive test later. Be right back.”
From the cabinets, I retrieved three things. Geoff’s breath hitched at the sight of the first one: a light quirt was something I knew would get his attention. The second was a rather thin butt plug, and the last item looked like the top two-thirds of a butt plug, with the wide flange, narrow neck, and flaring body. The part where it would narrow to a point for insertion was missing. I held it where he could see it and crushed it in my hand to show that it was malleable.
“Have you ever read Story of O?” I asked, pulling a bottle of lube out of a drawer and bringing the lot of it over to set on the bench before his eyes.
He shook his head and got a quick, sharp snap of the quirt for it.
“Verbal answers, if you please.”
“No!”
“Better.” I caressed the lovely red line on his pale skin, then stepped in front of him so he could see what I was doing. I inserted the thin plug through the half plug, demonstrating that the blunted one was hollow. The small plug now provided the rigidity and structure the malleable one lacked. “O’s masters insisted she remain open and available to them at all times. Not only could she not wear underwear, she wasn’t allowed to cross her legs or close her mouth, even when she was outside their presence. She had to always be accessible. I think that’s a rather noble sentiment myself, but I’d take it a step further and ensure that not just your mouth and limbs are open, but also your asshole, available to use whenever I want it. Specula are too clumsy and bulky, however. This is called a tunnel plug. Want to guess what it does?”
A rich blush crept up Geoff’s back and shoulders. Without making him answer, I backed away, moving behind him. He twitched at the cool smear of lube against his hole, and I chuckled softly. “I can see you’re starting to get the idea. From now until we’re done, you’re going to be open to me. I can see inside you, put anything I want inside you. I can stick toys in there, shine light inside you, even piss in there if I wanted to. When I blow my load in you, you won’t be able to hold it in. It’ll just pour out down your legs.”
Geoff made a querulous sound, letting me know he didn’t care for that last bit.
“What, you don’t want it to drip back out? Well, you’ll have to earn that reward, won’t you?” I leaned close to his ear. “If you’re good, I’ll breed you when we’re done, without the plug, so you can take it with you.”
He moaned, his hips shifting, humping the bench.
“Yeah, that’s what you want, isn’t it?” I stilled the writhing of his hips and pressed the cool silicone of the plug against his sphincter, working it inside. Once the tunnel plug was seated, I pulled the smaller one out, leaving a tube that held his ass open to my fingers. It stretched enough that I could even fuck him through it if I wanted to, and he wouldn’t be able to feel the friction of me moving in and out.
One benefit was that it would make him feel more used. If he guessed that my other purpose was to keep him from getting chafed or abraded from prolonged anal play—which would, of course, require longer to heal—he didn’t seem to mind.
“How does that feel?” I asked, studying that dark, gaping hole.
It took him a while to answer, which told me he was getting to the headspace I wanted him in. “Strange,” he said finally, his voice breathy. “Cool air inside is weird.”
“Good.” I lubed my fingers and slid them into the plug, teasing him with touches inside where the plug ended. “You look so slutty with your hole gaping open and ready to use.”
He made another discontented sound. “I can barely feel you touching me.”
“Well, now you see why it’s important that you be a very good boy and earn your reward. Otherwise when you walk out that door, you’ll hardly feel like you’ve been fucked at all.”
I removed my fingers and unzipped, lubing up my cock. The silicone of the plug stretched easily, but it was nothing like fucking the tight, hot grip his ass usually was. Too smooth, too cool. I could tell it was frustrating Geoff; he kept trying to hump back against me, trying to force me to thrust harder and faster. I nailed his prostate a few times, which, judging from his reaction, was even more jolting when he could barely feel everything else.
“Stop,” I growled, going still when he tried to hump the bench again.
He groaned. “Please! I want—”
I pulled his head back by his hair. “It doesn’t matter what you want. Your wishes are irrelevant unless and until I choose to grant them.” I thrust once more, slowly, as though I had all the time in the world and was in absolutely no rush to end this. “Use this time to come to terms with that.”
I fucked him steadily, waiting for it to sink home how at my mercy he was, bound to the bench, his pleasure withheld and even the inside of his ass exposed to my whim. I waited for him to go slack, giving up control. The tension drained out of his shoulders and neck as he let his face fall into the padded cradle. He went silent except for the pants and gasps when I nudged his prostate.
Fuck, that was sexy. It only took a few hard thrusts and the startled yelps they evoked before my orgasm gripped me by the balls and made me empty my load inside him. There was an immediate backwash when I pulled out, cum sliding down his taint and balls to drip onto his thighs. Geoff squirmed, trying to press them together as if he could keep the mess inside. The flush on his skin grew darker when I unclipped his restraints and pulled him to his feet, increasing the flow of semen seeping from his open ass.
I smirked. “Now how does that feel?”
“Filthy,” he muttered, not meeting my eyes. His cock was hard and angrily red, which told me filthy was hitting all his buttons just right.
“How are your knees?” I knelt to massage them gently. Kneeling could be a problem even for people without joint issues.
He hesitated, and when I looked up, it was obvious he wasn’t delaying answering, but checking in with his body. “They’re okay,” he pronounced finally.
“Think you can stand being bound to the cross for a while?”
Irritation flared in his eyes, replacing the dreamy look. “I’m fine,” he gritted.
I quickly rose and caught his chin, forcing him to meet my eyes. “I have to ask. It’s my responsibility. And I expect an honest answer.”
I could see the process as he reined in the flash of temper. “My knees ache, but I think it’s just from kneeling. I don’t think it’s a problem.”
“Okay.” I kissed him, a soft, indulgent brush of lips. His eyes had grown dreamy again by the time I pulled away. “If there’s a problem that’s related to your physical condition, don’t worry about safewording. Jus
t tell me what it is, and I’ll try to take care of it without breaking the scene if possible. Use your safeword when it’s something arising from the scene that isn’t working. All right?”
He ducked his head, nodding. “Yeah.”
“Good.” I stroked my thumb across his lips and led him to the cross.
Geoff
Robin anchored me to the cross as he had to the bench, by the rings on my bindings. He clipped my sleeves to the eyebolts along the struts. Not just near my wrists, but up my whole arm, taking the pressure off any single point. He even affixed them so that they pulled on the binder in opposite directions, keeping it from riding up my arm.
It felt far more complicated than cuffs would have. I was torn between resenting the special concessions and being grateful that Robin had considered these things.
“Try to squirm again,” he instructed me when he was done, and I tugged obligingly. “Harder. Like you’re really trying to get away.”
As I pulled, it became apparent that if I moved too much, my arm would slip down in the binder until it caught on my hand.
“I was concerned that might be the case. If you feel it putting too much pressure on the joint at the base of your thumb, let me know.” He pressed close, his clothes rough against my back as he reached around to grasp my cock and work it up again, until I groaned and wriggled, trying to push into his grip. “That’s it. That’s good, baby. Think about how hard you’re gonna come when I’m done with you. But not yet.” He stepped back, and I moaned, bereft. “Not until after I’ve whipped you.”
I jerked against the restraints wrapped around my arms and legs, my head snapping around to follow him as he opened a cabinet and withdrew two floggers—one made of a shiny Mylar-looking material, the other of leather—and a paddle. Then he pulled out something else. It appeared to be a plastic handle with a glass tube that curved and ended in a flared head.
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