Stories : Bound Muscle
I step out to greet one of my buddies, who is here for a bondage session in my new place. I haven’t seen him in six months and as usual, am completed awed by how buff and sexy this guy is: 6’4”, 230 pounds with spiky brown hair and brilliant blue eyes. He is wearing one of those awful Coca-Cola t-shirts everyone and their mother seems to own, but it’ a size too small and shows off his tight pecs, huge shoulders and washboard abs. His cargo shorts are hiding the immense thighs and bubble-butt I’ve seen a dozen times before since we met several years ago.
The scene is always the same: Strip him down, rope him to my bed, and edge him for a few hours until he is begging to be allowed to shoot. He claims to be straight and married and while I doubt he is either, I’ve never pushed him on the subject. One: I understand how important fantasy is for some people. Two: This hot, masculine stud is allowing himself to submit to me, so why the hell should I mind playing along?
That being said, I am in the mood to change things up a bit. I figure: New house, new rules.
He’s always a little shy at first, which I use to my advantage. I walk him into my bedroom and give him 60 seconds to strip down to his underwear, warning him he will receive a paddling for every second he is late. He tears his clothes off within fifteen seconds and stands in front of me, panting a little. He is wearing powder blue Ginch Gonch briefs which look ridiculous on him, but he is tanned and has clearly been kicking ass at the gym, so I keep my opinion to myself. He has shaved what little hair he has from his chest and legs. I prefer hairy guys – I like having chest hair to pull on – but he looks amazing just the same. I tell him to drop to his knees and avert his eyes to the floor. I begin rubbing his huge shoulders, knowing it helps relax him. I confirm that I have him for two hours and remind him of his safeword, which is my name: Enzo. He knows that he can yell and scream all he wants, but that I will assume he is having a great time until he uses my name. Besides, he is well-aware that not referring to me as “Sir” will get him a swat with my paddle, or worse.
I reach into my toy chest and pull out several coils of black rope, a leather blindfold, steel handcuffs, some simple clothes pins and my weapon of choice: A wicked steel paddle encased in black leather. I carefully set each item on the table at the foot of my bed, letting him see what I plan to use. As predicted, his cock begins to swell. Also as predicted, his little briefs don’t stand a chance of containing his 8” monster. I rub my fingers lightly across his stretched briefs, causing both of us to moan. For me, there is nothing hotter than a seemingly perfect, masculine guy submitting to me. It drives me crazy, and makes it hard to stay in character.
I walk behind him and roughly pull his hands behind his back, slapping the cuffs on him before he has a chance to pull away. He complains they are too tight, which they are, yet he continues to fight against them. I grab the paddle and give him a solid whack across his left pec. He yelps and tries to move away, but stops and submits when I draw it back as if to swat him again. He fights me again as I pull the blindfold over his head.
He is way too big for me to lift, so I order him to climb onto my bed. Blindfolded, he is slow and clumsy. I wait until he has both knees firmly on the mattress before giving him a hard shove which knocks him down on his face. He complains again about the cuffs and I give him a somewhat gentle swat on the back of his knee, which makes him jump in pain. I hit him again, enjoying his reaction. I grab hold of one of his ankles and swat the bottom of his foot, which causes him to scream and kick at me. I grab both ankles and twist them around so that he is forced to role over on his back, pull his briefs off, and rope his ankles to either bed post so that his legs are spread wide open.
He is moaning and complaining, yet his cock is hard and pulsing. I grab his cock and use it like a saddle horn to pull myself up on top of him. I straddle his chest and lightly slap his handsome face, which infuriates him. He tries to rock me off of him, so I lean my weight into him, knowing it will cause pain on his wrists.
He screams and immediately stops struggling. “Please, Sir,” he moans. “The cuffs are cutting into me.”
“Do you remember your safeword, boy?”
He nods, but doesn’t say it. That makes my cock ache. I reward him by climbing off of him and helping him sit up. I remove the cuffs and massage his hands, which are red and a little cold from the restricted blood supply. He was probably in quite a bit of pain, and I commend him for being such a good boy. I take advantage of his calm state and rope his hands to the bed posts so that he is in a spread-eagle position. He thrashes wildly as soon as I secure his wrist, yelling at me to release him. He is so convincing I wonder if he is really freaking out, but I remind myself he didn’t fight me at all as I was securing the ropes and that he knows how to use his safe word. I lean back and enjoy watching him work up a sweat and waste energy trying to escape. After I bore of this sexy show, I grab the paddle and swat him hard in the stomach. He screams and tries ineffectively to twist away from the paddle. I sit on his legs and slowly, lightly tap the paddle on the red mark it made across his abs. He flexes his stomach and seems to hold his breath as I gradually increase the intensity of the hits until he can’t help but cry out, begging me to stop.
I don’t, until I suspect he may be crying.
I set the paddle down and run my fingers across the red welt I made on his stomach. I bend down and blow on it, which causes him to moan. I lick it, causing him to thrash his head. I rub my stubbled chin across it a few times until he is screaming at me to stop, stop!
He’s such a baby for such a big man.
I rub my fingers up his sides and over his chest, allowing him to catch his breath. I stoke his cock a few times, then reach down into my toy box and retrieve a black shoestring, which I tightly tie around his balls and cock. His cock is red and engorged after a few minutes, and so sensitive that he moans every time I touch it. I straddle him and lightly touch his nipples, which are extremely sensitive. He reacts my thrusting his hips, grinding his cock against my leg. I rub his smooth chest and allow him to have his fun, and can’t help but imagine what an amazing top he must be in his real life.
However, I’m not a bottom and have other plans for him.
I clamp one of the clothespins on his right nipple, causing him to scream so loud I am tempted to gag him before one of my new neighbors calls the police. But the sound of his screaming is exquisite, and I want more. He goes ballistic when I clamp on the second clothespin, nearly throwing me off the bed. I flick the pins with my finger in a random pattern he fails to predict for a good twenty minutes. He is literally sobbing. I own this beautiful beast.
I normally yank the clothespins off, as that often hurts more than having them on, but this guy is extremely sensitive and I don’t want to push him over the edge. I slowly remove them and rub his head, commending him again on being such a good boy. Then I do something I have never done with him before: I kiss him, hard and uncontrolled. He pulls away and yells at me. “No! No, Sir!”
I maneuver him into a choke hold and slowly squeeze until his face begins to redden. I kiss him again. He doesn’t kiss me back, but doesn’t pull away. “You need to be fucked, boy,” I whisper.
“No,” he whimpers. “No.”
I should slap him for not referring to me as “Sir.” Instead, I slid down his amazing body and started stroking his dick until he begins panting. I slap his pulsing cock with my hand, causing him to yelp and reminding him that this isn’t about him. I rub my middle finger across his ass hole.
“No,” he repeats.
“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?”
I spit on my finger and slide it into his tight hole. He keeps yelling at me to stop, but his cock looks like it’s about to explode.
“This is what you want,” I say in a soothing voice. “You want me to rape you so that you don’t feel guilty about bottoming for me. You want me to take what you will never offer.”
“I don’t,” he yells. “I want you to stop.”
Of course he doesn’t want me to stop. I slide off the bed and untie his feet. I pull my clothes off and toss them on the floor near his, then return to the bed with towels, lube, and plenty of condoms. I climb between his legs and push them apart.
“No,” he pleads.
I rub lube on his ass. “You’re tight ass is mine. I own it.” I push his knees to his chest, surprised at how limber his huge legs are. “I’ll only be gentle if you don’t fight me.”
“Oh my god, please don’t do this.”
The tone of his voice makes me hesitate. Some people get so into a scene, fall so deep into their role, that they forget who they are and are unable to make safe decisions for themselves. He is completely helpless at this point and I am afraid I may be overstepping. As hot as it sounds, I don’t want to rape anyone for real.
Still, his legs are untied and he can easily kick me if he wants to. His dick is still insanely hard, which is another good sign but not one I can count on. I reach for a condom. “Do you remember your safeword, boy?”
“Do you?” I persist.
“Yes,” he says, barely a whisper. “Yes, Sir; I remember it.”
“I’m putting a condom on,” I say, answering the question he may be afraid to ask. I pull a condom on and apply more lube than is probably needed, and press my cock against his ass. “Who owns this pretty ass?” I ask calmly.
He’s close to hyperventilating at this point. “Sir owns it.”
The compassionate side of me wants to stop and give him a hug, but the masochist in me is screaming “fuck that straight ass: Fuck it hard.” I push until the head squeezes into his tight pucker, at which he becomes so still and quiet I wonder if he’s passed out. He turns his head and sighs. “Sir owns it.”
I begin pumping, slowly, but not at all gently. His cock is loving it, but I can tell he genuinely is not enjoying the experience. I want to roll him over and pound the hell out him, but I instead reward him for his trust by slowing my movement while jacking him off. It takes a few minutes for him to respond, but he begins pushing against my cock as I bring him closer and closer to shooting. His biceps bulge as he pulls against the rope and he begins thrashing his head.
“Sir, you’re going to make me cum,” he moans.
I push all the way in his ass and continue stroking his cock.
“Sir!” he says, frantic. “Sir! May I cum? May I cum?
I hold him off for a few more minutes until I can tell he can’t take anymore.
“Sir! Please, Sir!”
I crank hard on his cock and begin pumping his hole. “Cum for me, boy. Show me what you’ve got.”
That was all he needed to hear. “Oh, fuck, Sir. Fuck! Fuck!
His first load shoots clear over his head and all over my blinds. The second is aimed perfectly in his open mouth, and the rest of it splatters all over his chest. Ignoring my own need to shoot, I continue stroking his cock until he is convulsing and gasping.
“Enzo!” he screams. “Enzo! Enzo!”
He has finally had enough. I had finally pushed him past his point of endurance. I stop stroking his cock and slowly pull out of his ass. I wipe lube off his ass with a towel and toss it on the floor, then take another and wipe cum and sweat from his face. “Good boy,” I say in my most soothing voice. I’ll never truly understand a submissive’s need to please, but I am very aware that he may be experiencing anxiety over what just happened. He may also fear that I am angry at him for using his safeword, which I am not. “You’re a good boy,” I continue. “Such a good, beautiful boy.”
“Thank you, Sir,” he says with a dopey smile. “Oh my god, thank you.”
Enzo AKA: LA-Dom-BodyBldr