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The night that put Alex in bed for a month was one of his favourite nights ever.
Greg had taken Alex into his “special room,” as they called it, a snug little room with no windows and only one door. Black padded paneling covered all four walls, while the floor was made from a simple black wood, hard and shiny. There was a Saint Andrew’s Cross, several benches from which wide golden rings dangled, and an array of painful looking instruments hanging neatly on a wall-mounted rack. None of these items made an appearance that night, save a single set of metal handcuffs that were quickly clasped around Alex’s wrists.
That night, Alex found himself bound to two wall-mounted anchor hooks. One was ankle height, and the other came up to his waist if he was standing up. In his current position, Alex was not standing up. His hands were cuffed together behind his back and held solidly by the ankle height ring – Greg had threaded the chain linking the handcuffs together through the ring before attaching the cuffs to Alex’s wrists. Threaded through the higher hook was a long and sturdy strand of chain, the end of which also attached to the lower hook. On the other end of this long chain, a gleaming golden clasp hooked itself through the ring of Alex’s collar, just at the back of his neck.
Alex’s collar was a special gift from Greg, black leather with crimson accents. Simple and elegant, with a thick golden ring that normally would be prominent in the well of Alex’s throat, but tonight was secured to the clasp that ran the long chain through the wall hooks. Because of the change, Greg had moved Alex’s tag to one of the smaller rings at the back of his collar, now turned around to be at the front of his neck.
The engraved letters shone dimly in the darkness of the room, etched into the brilliant golden circle:
Property of Greg
Alex loved his collar – the way it looked, the way it was snug against his throat like Greg’s thick fingers when he choked him… and most of all, he loved being Greg’s. The sense of belonging and possession was never stronger than when Greg put the collar around Alex’s neck.
So bound, kneeling on the floor – Alex had insisted he didn’t want any padding under his knees tonight, and they would be screaming in protest at him for weeks after – he looked up at Greg.
Resplendent in his Taskmaster suit, black on black on black, Greg struck an intimidating pose, a look of casual nonchalance on his face. He looked almost bored, but Alex didn’t miss the glimmer in his eyes as he looked down upon Alex from his vantage point well above him.
Alex could crane his neck to look up at Greg – the chain on his collar allowed for that much – but when he relaxed the muscles in his neck and allowed himself to melt into his restraints, his head was held up by the collar, the chain pulled taught, the delicious pressure digging into his throat and limiting his air supply.
In front of him, only a few steps away, Greg stood, idly looking down at Alex, bound and chained. He sighed, as if this was an uninteresting chore, and thumbed open the front of his trousers. Alex’s eyes were glued to the motion, watching eagerly as Greg’s deft fingers worked open his fly and drew out his cock, already rock hard.
So much for acting disinterested.
Greg removed his hand, and Alex watched his cock bob obscenely in front of him – just out of reach. He strained against his restraints, trying and failing to move forward enough to get his lips around what he knew was going to be velvety and hot.
Greg quirked an eyebrow at Alex, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
“Eager, are we?” he purred, a low rumble of thunder that sent a lightning bolt straight through Alex’s system.
“Yes–” Alex gasped, barely able to push the word out of his constricted throat. He licked his lips and glanced quickly up at Greg. “Please.” It came out as a whisper.
“You’re going to have to work for it, baby boy,” Greg rumbled, the grin now flickering in and out of existence on his lips. A flash of teeth, then pursed lips, then sharp canines glinting in the dim light.
Alex squirmed, the chains behind him jangling merrily. Muscles stood out on his arms and neck as he tried to lunge forward only to be stopped short by his collar.
“Please…” he whined again, desperately struggling against the building pressure. “Please, Greg.” Alex’s knees squeaked against the floor as he tried to shuffle forward. Sweat dripped off of his naked body and ran down his back in rivulets.
At the sound of Alex’s pleas, Greg’s cock bobbed, unaided by his hand. The tip was as red as a cherry plucked right from the tree. Veins stood prominently out along the shaft. Alex squirmed and whimpered, uttering more desperate words, begging for Greg to step forward. The golden circle that proclaimed Alex as Greg’s property clinked lightly as he thrashed, trying to get forward, if only by an inch.
Finally Greg sighed, feigning boredom once again. “All right,” he said, preparing to take a step forward. “But only because you begged so nicely.”
Thin pants of breath escaped Alex’s throat as he watched Greg take one step forward, then two… And then, all at once, Alex’s mouth was open, his tongue sticking out to welcome the soft velvety touch of Greg’s hot dick, and Greg’s large hand was on the back of Alex’s head, urging him to take all of it in one go. In one smooth motion, Greg and Alex surged forward, toward each other, until Greg was fully seated inside of Alex’s mouth.
Alex tried to sigh in relief, but Greg’s cock was blocking his airways. He tried to hum contentedly, but he couldn’t do that either. So he settled for letting the bright hot feeling of euphoria bubble up inside of him until he felt full to bursting. His nose pressed up against Greg’s crotch as Greg pressed his hand against the back of Alex’s head. Alex swallowed shallowly several times just to try to get the feeling of Greg on his tongue. It worked, and he heard Greg utter a low grunt of pleasure.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Alex enjoyed the sensations. His lungs beginning to scream for air. Greg, hot and hard in his mouth. A twinge of pain – a cramp – in Alex’s lower back. Greg’s hand, warm and firm but gentle against the back of his head. The hard and unyielding floor underneath Alex’s knobbly knees. The towering bulk of his Taskmaster above him. Handcuffs cutting harshly into the soft skin of his wrists. Safety. Danger. Love. Ecstasy. Possession. Belonging.
When Alex’s lungs couldn’t take it anymore, Alex made a rough choking sound and Greg pulled back just enough for Alex to gasp in a breath through his nose. Then Greg pushed back in again, cutting him off. Tears began to well up in the corners of Alex’s eyes at the pressure. He loved it.
It went like that for a while, Greg cutting off Alex’s air until he knew Alex needed his next breath, giving him a short reprieve, then going back in again. All the time, Greg stayed hard and hot in Alex’s mouth. Soon Greg began to fuck Alex’s face in earnest, pulling all the way back before slamming forward into Alex’s face, mashing his nose and causing his eyes to tear up. They leaked at the corners and ran down his cheeks to mingle with the sweat and spit on his cheeks and chin. Greg sped up, his body tightening like a metal spring, his fingers fisting hard in Alex’s hair, and then he let out a loud gasp that turned into a grunt, throwing himself forward as his orgasm spurted down Alex’s throat.
Alex swallowed again and again, though there wasn’t really that much to swallow – Greg’s prostate pills had seen to that – and then suddenly there was a swift sliding sensation as Greg pulled out and stepped back, leaving Alex feeling very empty indeed. He gasped, drawing in great lungfuls of air, tears streaming down his face, saliva dripping in long spider-silk strings from his chin and onto the floor.
As Greg tucked himself away, regaining composure by the second, he looked down at Alex.
“My, my… aren’t you hard and dripping?”
Sure enough, Alex was. His cock felt hotter than an iron forge, ramrod straight and throbbing with every little movement of his body. The tip of his cock was leaking precome onto the floor, mingling with the tears and spit.
“Would you like me to take care of that for you?” Greg purred.
“Yes – please!” Alex gasped, his brilliant eyes sparkling with fevered lunacy. His voice was rough and gravelly. “Please… please, Greg.”
Once more, Greg stepped forward, sliding one shiny black shoe carefully through the mess beneath Alex until the tip of his polished shoe rested under Alex’s throbbing cock. He lifted the tip of the shoe up, up, up, until it brushed the underside of Alex’s tip by the merest fraction of an inch.
It felt like an explosion, mushrooming out from that one sensitive spot to the rest of his body.
Greg put his foot down, slowly.
“Oh god…” Alex breathed, rattling against his chains and shaking with exhaustion. “Oh please. Greg… god… please.”
Smirking, Greg lifted his foot once more. It came into contact briefly with Alex’s shiny tip, and an electric current ran through Alex’s soul. He shuddered, his body breaking out into gooseflesh. It felt like he could feel every single bone in his body. He strained forward, his collar digging into his throat.
“Oh my god…” he choked out, barely a breath.
The smirk never left Greg’s face as he lowered his foot once again.
“No…” Alex whined, tinny and breathless. “Please, Greg. Please.”
He squirmed, the chains rattling behind him. Pressure was building around his neck, his wrists, his knees. His face was completely red. Sweat continued to run down his back, his arms, dripping off of his interlocked fingers, white from clasping them together so tightly.
“Third time’s the charm, innit?” Greg chuckled, and brought the tip of his shoe up for one final time.
A starburst of pure pleasure burst forth from Alex, his orgasm pulsing out of him like a heartbeat to splatter onto Greg’s shoe and trouser leg. Wave upon wave took Alex somewhere else, some celestial place that was all black and dotted with stars glittering behind his eyelids, squeezed tightly shut as his mouth opened in a soundless scream.
Seconds later – or maybe it was an eternity – Alex opened his eyes. He was hot, drenched in sweat, aching from every possible place on his body… and he couldn’t have been happier. He didn’t want to come all the way back up from that deep and secret place from which Greg could plunge him, and when he looked up into Greg’s eyes he saw that he would get his wish.
“Mucky boy,” Greg said softly, half mock annoyance and half teasing love. “You’ve made a mess of my trousers.”
“Oh!” Alex gasped, a tiny breath in the silence of the room. “P-please forgive me, Greg. I…” he trailed off, vaguely aware of the biting pain in his wrists slowly throbbing back into existence.
“What you’ll do…” Greg said sharply, glowering down at Alex, “is clean it up.”
Before Alex could respond, Greg said, “With your tongue.”
The whimper that tried to bubble out of Alex’s throat was cut off by his collar. He swallowed it down.
“Knee,” Greg said, and when Alex only looked puzzled, he repeated louder: “Knee!”
“Yes, Greg!” Alex said, his voice a breathy train whistle. He struggled to change his position, his knees sliding and slipping on the slick black floor, all of his muscles aching and in various amounts of agony. Finally he managed to get one foot under him. The angle was awkward, what with the chains and handcuffs restricting his movement, but he found himself in a position that almost looked as if he was about to propose to Greg, down on one knee and looking reverently up at his Taskmaster. His body heaved with exertion.
Greg grinned. “Good boy,” he purred, and leaned forward to ruffle Alex’s sweaty and disheveled hair. Greg’s shoe – the one that had Alex’s spunk on it – came up to rest on Alex’s knee. Now it looked like Alex might shine Greg’s shoes, and in a way, that’s exactly what he did.
Behind himself, Alex lifted his chained wrists as high as they would go, stopping when he felt the unyielding metal of the hook mounted to the wall. This allowed the chain linked to his collar to loosen ever so slightly, and he bent his head down until he was within licking distance of Greg’s shoe. Arms and wrists screaming in pain, Alex stuck out his tongue and got to work.
When it was all over – Greg satisfied with the job that Alex’s tongue had performed on both Greg’s shoe and trouser leg – Greg carefully lifted his foot off of Alex’s knee. Alex collapsed to the floor, or at least as much as his restraints allowed him to. His head hung forward over the collar, turning red with the lack of air. His bruised and swollen wrists pulled against the metal of the handcuffs. Greg made quick work of getting Alex out of the contraption, being careful to hold his head when the collar was removed lest Alex snap his neck or give himself whiplash. It had happened before, and Greg was not about to let it happen again.
Overheated, sodden, and tired, Alex fell into Greg’s arms. Cool wet flannels and soothing lotion awaited them in the bedroom, and with an effort, Greg gathered Alex up in his arms and stood, carrying him off.
Yes, that night had indeed been perfect.