BRIAN’S POV

This is why you had to come down his throat before having this conversation…because you knew he’d start begging, and you’d come in your pants if you hadn’t gotten some release immediately prior.

“Brian, I swear; I’ll do anything you want, wherever you want,” he continues.

“Stop it. Stop begging. You don’t even know what you’re begging for.”

“Yes, I do,” he says, like he means it.

……

……

“No, you don’t. Get up.” You stand, reach down, and grab him by the upper arm, helping Justin to his feet. You guide him over to the bedside and make him stand there while you attach leather cuffs to his wrists and ankles and then tie a blindfold around his eyes, and then you turn him around and tell him, “All fours, please. Your face in the sheets.”

He complies--though his breathing gets heavy--as you link each wrist to each ankle so his hands are essentially buckled right by his feet. You step back and light a wide red candle on the nightstand and kill the rest of the lights in the room. You walk to the other side of the bed and start pulling various implements off the wall, tossing them on the mattress as you sit down beside his head. You touch his hair, run your fingers through it, ask him, “Is your collar too tight in this position?”

“Kind of,” he says quietly.

“I’ll fix it.” You loosen it by one snap and then run your fingers over his face, caressing his forehead, his cheekbones, his jaw line. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” you tell him, “To spending this kind of time with you.”

“Me, too.”

“Well, then, let’s get started.” And with that, you get up and walk back around to the other side of the bed where his ass is waiting for you. You touch him, your fingers spread wide on his bottom, rubbing his cheeks, his back, and eventually, the back of his legs until without being asked, he moans and spreads them for you—basically the only move he can make in the position he’s in. You pull a very small black rubber cock ring from your pocket and stroke his balls, his cock, and his stomach before introducing it. It’s headed for his cock and his balls, a degree of constriction he’s not used to and probably isn’t ready for.

“Brian…what?” he asks when he realizes what’s happening.

“You’re going to learn some self-control. If you can’t control your erection, then I’ll control when you come.”

There’s a frustration in his voice, “It’s too tight; it’s uncomfortable.”

“I know. You’ll be able to focus on other sensations very soon.”

You step back a few steps and use your left hand to steady him while your right begins to twirl a black leather flogger clockwise.

JUSTIN’S POV

Your dick feels like it’s being strangled and then the rain starts. Slowly, you feel cool strips of leather cascading down your back, across your ass, over the back of your legs and feet. It’s rhythmic and the only noise you hear except for Brian’s boots anytime he takes a step. Sometimes he compliments you for staying still…”Good, Justin,” but mostly it’s just raining all over you. Whoosh.

Whoosh.

Whoosh.

You think about your cock and your balls pinched in this thing, what it must look like, but then the rain gets harder—same pattern, more intensity.

He has a plan.

Several minutes pass, and there’s another break in the precipitation, and Brian’s touching you with both hands, smoothing them all over, sometimes you can feel the denim of his jeans against you. “How’s your neck?” he asks in a low voice.

“Okay.”

The rain starts again, harder still, the intervals between drops getting shorter and shorter. You start to imagine your body on these black sheets in this black room and sometimes you feel yourself start to sink into somewhere else. But then there’s thunder.

Slaps with his hand which hurt more and less at the same time. There’s a focus on your ass and then he’s rubbing the inside of your thigh, up and down, up and down, priming you for the pain that’s to come. It almost tilts you off balance, but he catches you after delivering sting after sting.

He flogs you again like he’s cleansing your pain palette, making you a blank slate of stimulation for the next change in the weather.

Hail.

This flogger is different, it soothes and then stings over and over; you find yourself flinching and holding your breath, never knowing where the barbs are going to fall. The hole you feel yourself in gets deeper.

And just when you think you’ve sort of adjusted to this weird sensation, he’s talking to you while you navigate it, “I have good reasons for wanting to change the schedule, Justin. You’re going to burn up every endorphin, every ounce of adrenaline and every spec of dopamine in your system if we don’t get you regulated. I thought I’d just talk to you about it, but clearly that doesn’t work, so I’ll find another way.” Tiny stings cover your back, your ass, and even your hands where they’re cuffed to your ankles.

When the stinging stops, Brian is moving you, flipping you onto your back. The flogging, the gentle rain, begins again, on your face, your chest, your legs which he’s pushed apart, and then a soaking on your cock. This is why he blindfolded me. you think, So I can’t see his face, can’t tell what he’s feeling or what’s coming. You feel like you’re still hard, but maybe you’re not, maybe you’re just stuck like this because of this ring.

When the stinging moves down your stomach, you make the mistake of closing your knees to stop the flogger from hitting your balls. It’s just instinct, but Brian isn’t amused, “Don’t you dare close your legs. I’ll pry them open if I have to.” You open them again, steeled against the punishment that’s sure to come, but then you’re confused because you don’t feel the flogger, you feel cold wet between your legs and then Brian on top of you, his hands brushing your thighs as he shoves his jeans down.

He's fucking you.