The Game
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
5
Views:
6,675
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
5
Views:
6,675
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Chapter Four
DISCLAIMER: I do not make any money in the writing of this. This is an original work.
AUTHOR\'S NOTE: Please, no stealing. To my reviewers - THANK YOU!!
_________________________________________________________________________________
THE GAME
Chapter Four
by lordoberon
- - - - - -
Simon\'s POV
- - - - - -
His voice came from behind me, soft and low. The voice of control. The voice of the Master talking to his dog. The voice of a Lord to his slave. I nearly groaned aloud at the dominance of him. I hated it, but at the same time, he was too terrible to resist. He was poisoning me with his soft words of lust.
"Simon, do you have any idea what I am going to do to you?"
This was a game. It was a game of words and a game of survival. I had to please him as many ways as I could. "No. Are you going to tell me?"
"Of course not." Satisfaction was in his voice. He came around into my vision and looked at me in all my humiliation. A fanged smirk presented itself. In his hands he held a paddle. My eyes raked up it, measuring the width, seeing the rod widen into a flat, thick wooden spoon, with a rounded edge. It was a hard wood, dark and rough. It would hurt to be hit with. I had a feeling I knew what he was going to do.
But I said nothing. He circled around me once, two more times. Then Leander was behind me again, and I couldn\'t see him anymore. I waited. The waiting was agonizing. What to expect? Waiting. Waiting. Then suddenly - smack! - I cried out as the sharp slap of the paddle came to my ass. It stung like hell. I could feel the pain spread to a wide area of the skin, probably reddening it.
- - - - - Leander\'s POV
The boy cried out like an animal when Leander hit him. It was amazing to hear. That tight little ass was fresh to the air, the strong, long legs encased in harsh metal. The paddle hit, a delightful sound against soft, tender skin, and the mark it created was flaring red even against the dark skin. Leander raised his arm again and hit once more, this time harder. Another scream.
A long pause. Then again - smack! - this time to the other cheek. The boy was silent. Leander began to hit harder, faster. Ten seconds between each hit. Five seconds. Those cheeks were gorgeous and round, firm. Leander leant forward and licked his tongue over the flaring mark created, moaning as the boy\'s reaction was a surprised gasp. The head of dark curls jerked up, hips attempting to rise even when they couldn\'t. Leander moved his head down, softly sliding his tongue into the crevice. He felt a hard tightening in his groin as the boy moaned loudly, shaking in his bonds, trying to thrust back against Leander\'s tongue.
- - - - - switch back to Simon’s POV
I couldn\'t move back against him. All I could do was stand there and wait, and hope. I would not beg. Yet.
The tongue disappeared, and I was hit by the paddle again. I let my head hang down low, gritting my teeth and biting my lips to keep from yelling. Each hit hurt worse than the last. The sting was a burning sensation now, constant. Smack. Smack. The sound echoed around the room. I yelped involuntarily as the paddle swung down and hit the back of a thigh. Again. Again. The smack became a sound that I listened to, that I focused on, resisting the urge to scream, to moan, to cry out, to order him to hit even harder, resisting my body\'s crying out needily. I burned outside with pain, while inwardly I burned even more fiercely with desire that I was trying to repress.
Suddenly the rod end of the paddle was thrusting at me, prodding, sinking. I yelled as Leander thrust it up me roughly, impaling me. The wood was rough against me, scraping against my insides, teasing me into arousal. My whole body trembled in resistance. But as the thing began a slow, steady pace I gave in, moaning as it thrust deeper. My muscles clenched around it as if it were a cock, sucking it in and not wanting to let it go. I whimpered like a defeated dog as the rod continued to thrust, slower, now at a different angle. And then I felt Leander bend beneath me, his hair brushing between my thighs beneath the ever-thrusting wooden rod. Suddenly a hot, soft tongue was licking at the head of my cock. Thirsty. Like a man lost in the desert who has suddenly found the stream of life.
I groaned, trying to thrust downward into the tongue\'s hot caress. But my arms were locked and my legs were stiff with being kept straight. I was so rigidly held that I could not even thrust my hips in either direction. My chest heaved as my breathing got ragged, and I shook my head back and forth in mild protest.
Leander began to suck harder. I was groaning loudly now, shaking even more. The thrust of the rod had stopped, the paddle utterly forgotten as he brought me to erection. I still had the wood impaling me up the ass, scraping me raw as I moved slightly. The blonde head moved back, back behind me, watching as soft cum dripped steadily from my cock, needily. I tried to kick at him, to tell him I wanted more without words, but he wouldn\'t do anything. So finally I opened my mouth, saying, "Please. Please, Leander!"
The blonde hair came back again, and I shot within minutes, gasping for air and shaking all over. My inability to move made it impossible to thrust at all, so I had to wait for every lick, every nibble, every suck. It drove me crazy. I wanted to scream in anger, but all I could do was moan. By the time he let me have release, I was sobbing in need. He looked up into my eyes, reveling in my pain, lust, and desperation. He smiled.
Leander disappeared from my sight again, and I sighed in relief as, for a moment, I was left alone.
The leather was scraping the skin of my wrists raw. I wondered if I would have any skin left in many places by the end of this. The rod was pulled out and I groaned softly in relief again. Then he was hitting the backs of my thighs again, and I yelled at one particularly hard hit. Leander laughed at my reaction, saying, "Now it\'s not so easy to be quiet, is it? Scream for me, Simon. Scream."
I resolutely tried to be quiet as the hits came again, harder, faster. My back ached from being in this position for so long. My forehead dripped with sweat. The muscles of my arms cried out. My legs...they hurt amazingly. Blood dripped from them when I twisted around, the metal digging into my skin, making red marks on it, scraping it, yellowing and purpling it with deep bruises.
He was going crazy. He was hitting my body all over. The paddle hit at my ass again, and then suddenly at my thighs, and then a hand slapped down upon my back, and a moment later a hot body, clothed, was lying over my back, and long fingers twisted at my hard nipples. I made a sound in my throat at that move, but I refused to scream. I would not scream for him. I would not give him that satisfaction.
Suddenly large hands were sliding over my body, sliding down my back, spreading the cheeks wide, probing and rubbing against all the sore spots the paddle rod had created. I yelped as his fingers thrust particularly hard, and then his tongue was swirling, and when it got deep I couldn\'t help it. I screamed. He had me screaming for it and begging in moments after that, his tongue and his mouth and his hands treating me, worshipping me, torturing me. I was left sobbing and gasping, hanging limply in my bonds, my throat dry and raw from screaming at the top of my lungs.
The paddle dropped to the floor with a clatter. Leander came to stand in front of me. I stared at the stones on the floor, at my toes, at the dried blood on my legs, at anything but him. My body was tired enough to be dead, but my mind and my lust kept me torturously aware of every sensation.
"Simon."
I shook my head.
"SIMON."
I panted, gasping for breath. I twisted in my bonds, feeling the leather scrape at my wrists. He got the point, that I didn\'t like this, that I wanted to be let go. A bitter grin twisted my lips as I saw the slight hardening of him. He enjoyed my begging, my helplessness. I didn\'t doubt that he had been harder earlier, when I couldn\'t see him.
"Look at me, Simon."
My head hung low, limp. Suddenly a hand shot out and grabbed at my hair, yanking my head up. I swore at the pain. His eyes met mine and I gave him the dirtiest, hardest glare I could. If my throat weren\'t so dry I would have mustered the courage to spit in his face. He was frightening. He had me where he wanted me. But in these little rebellions, I refused to make it easy for him, to be cowed like a dog...at least, not all the time.
"Simon, you are a rude, rude animal."
My voice was a hoarse, ugly whisper. "And you\'re a sick fucker! I don\'t give a damn what you think I am, you\'re -"
A jangle of bracelets sounded, and I got a harsh slap across the face. As the sting ignited a wave of pain across my face, I continued, "You\'re -"
He plugged me up with the slick heat of his cock. As my mouth began to move over it, Leander leaned low. He jerked his hips up to thrust deeper in my mouth, whispering by my ear, "You\'re no better than a whore."
And as I greedily licked and sucked like a devil of the streets, I knew he was right. I was the worst of the worst. I deserved to die. My every desire would be my own undoing.
_____________________________________________________________________________
AUTHOR\'S NOTE: This fic is almost done. I think...Reviews appreciated! :)
AUTHOR\'S NOTE: Please, no stealing. To my reviewers - THANK YOU!!
_________________________________________________________________________________
THE GAME
Chapter Four
by lordoberon
- - - - - -
Simon\'s POV
- - - - - -
His voice came from behind me, soft and low. The voice of control. The voice of the Master talking to his dog. The voice of a Lord to his slave. I nearly groaned aloud at the dominance of him. I hated it, but at the same time, he was too terrible to resist. He was poisoning me with his soft words of lust.
"Simon, do you have any idea what I am going to do to you?"
This was a game. It was a game of words and a game of survival. I had to please him as many ways as I could. "No. Are you going to tell me?"
"Of course not." Satisfaction was in his voice. He came around into my vision and looked at me in all my humiliation. A fanged smirk presented itself. In his hands he held a paddle. My eyes raked up it, measuring the width, seeing the rod widen into a flat, thick wooden spoon, with a rounded edge. It was a hard wood, dark and rough. It would hurt to be hit with. I had a feeling I knew what he was going to do.
But I said nothing. He circled around me once, two more times. Then Leander was behind me again, and I couldn\'t see him anymore. I waited. The waiting was agonizing. What to expect? Waiting. Waiting. Then suddenly - smack! - I cried out as the sharp slap of the paddle came to my ass. It stung like hell. I could feel the pain spread to a wide area of the skin, probably reddening it.
- - - - - Leander\'s POV
The boy cried out like an animal when Leander hit him. It was amazing to hear. That tight little ass was fresh to the air, the strong, long legs encased in harsh metal. The paddle hit, a delightful sound against soft, tender skin, and the mark it created was flaring red even against the dark skin. Leander raised his arm again and hit once more, this time harder. Another scream.
A long pause. Then again - smack! - this time to the other cheek. The boy was silent. Leander began to hit harder, faster. Ten seconds between each hit. Five seconds. Those cheeks were gorgeous and round, firm. Leander leant forward and licked his tongue over the flaring mark created, moaning as the boy\'s reaction was a surprised gasp. The head of dark curls jerked up, hips attempting to rise even when they couldn\'t. Leander moved his head down, softly sliding his tongue into the crevice. He felt a hard tightening in his groin as the boy moaned loudly, shaking in his bonds, trying to thrust back against Leander\'s tongue.
- - - - - switch back to Simon’s POV
I couldn\'t move back against him. All I could do was stand there and wait, and hope. I would not beg. Yet.
The tongue disappeared, and I was hit by the paddle again. I let my head hang down low, gritting my teeth and biting my lips to keep from yelling. Each hit hurt worse than the last. The sting was a burning sensation now, constant. Smack. Smack. The sound echoed around the room. I yelped involuntarily as the paddle swung down and hit the back of a thigh. Again. Again. The smack became a sound that I listened to, that I focused on, resisting the urge to scream, to moan, to cry out, to order him to hit even harder, resisting my body\'s crying out needily. I burned outside with pain, while inwardly I burned even more fiercely with desire that I was trying to repress.
Suddenly the rod end of the paddle was thrusting at me, prodding, sinking. I yelled as Leander thrust it up me roughly, impaling me. The wood was rough against me, scraping against my insides, teasing me into arousal. My whole body trembled in resistance. But as the thing began a slow, steady pace I gave in, moaning as it thrust deeper. My muscles clenched around it as if it were a cock, sucking it in and not wanting to let it go. I whimpered like a defeated dog as the rod continued to thrust, slower, now at a different angle. And then I felt Leander bend beneath me, his hair brushing between my thighs beneath the ever-thrusting wooden rod. Suddenly a hot, soft tongue was licking at the head of my cock. Thirsty. Like a man lost in the desert who has suddenly found the stream of life.
I groaned, trying to thrust downward into the tongue\'s hot caress. But my arms were locked and my legs were stiff with being kept straight. I was so rigidly held that I could not even thrust my hips in either direction. My chest heaved as my breathing got ragged, and I shook my head back and forth in mild protest.
Leander began to suck harder. I was groaning loudly now, shaking even more. The thrust of the rod had stopped, the paddle utterly forgotten as he brought me to erection. I still had the wood impaling me up the ass, scraping me raw as I moved slightly. The blonde head moved back, back behind me, watching as soft cum dripped steadily from my cock, needily. I tried to kick at him, to tell him I wanted more without words, but he wouldn\'t do anything. So finally I opened my mouth, saying, "Please. Please, Leander!"
The blonde hair came back again, and I shot within minutes, gasping for air and shaking all over. My inability to move made it impossible to thrust at all, so I had to wait for every lick, every nibble, every suck. It drove me crazy. I wanted to scream in anger, but all I could do was moan. By the time he let me have release, I was sobbing in need. He looked up into my eyes, reveling in my pain, lust, and desperation. He smiled.
Leander disappeared from my sight again, and I sighed in relief as, for a moment, I was left alone.
The leather was scraping the skin of my wrists raw. I wondered if I would have any skin left in many places by the end of this. The rod was pulled out and I groaned softly in relief again. Then he was hitting the backs of my thighs again, and I yelled at one particularly hard hit. Leander laughed at my reaction, saying, "Now it\'s not so easy to be quiet, is it? Scream for me, Simon. Scream."
I resolutely tried to be quiet as the hits came again, harder, faster. My back ached from being in this position for so long. My forehead dripped with sweat. The muscles of my arms cried out. My legs...they hurt amazingly. Blood dripped from them when I twisted around, the metal digging into my skin, making red marks on it, scraping it, yellowing and purpling it with deep bruises.
He was going crazy. He was hitting my body all over. The paddle hit at my ass again, and then suddenly at my thighs, and then a hand slapped down upon my back, and a moment later a hot body, clothed, was lying over my back, and long fingers twisted at my hard nipples. I made a sound in my throat at that move, but I refused to scream. I would not scream for him. I would not give him that satisfaction.
Suddenly large hands were sliding over my body, sliding down my back, spreading the cheeks wide, probing and rubbing against all the sore spots the paddle rod had created. I yelped as his fingers thrust particularly hard, and then his tongue was swirling, and when it got deep I couldn\'t help it. I screamed. He had me screaming for it and begging in moments after that, his tongue and his mouth and his hands treating me, worshipping me, torturing me. I was left sobbing and gasping, hanging limply in my bonds, my throat dry and raw from screaming at the top of my lungs.
The paddle dropped to the floor with a clatter. Leander came to stand in front of me. I stared at the stones on the floor, at my toes, at the dried blood on my legs, at anything but him. My body was tired enough to be dead, but my mind and my lust kept me torturously aware of every sensation.
"Simon."
I shook my head.
"SIMON."
I panted, gasping for breath. I twisted in my bonds, feeling the leather scrape at my wrists. He got the point, that I didn\'t like this, that I wanted to be let go. A bitter grin twisted my lips as I saw the slight hardening of him. He enjoyed my begging, my helplessness. I didn\'t doubt that he had been harder earlier, when I couldn\'t see him.
"Look at me, Simon."
My head hung low, limp. Suddenly a hand shot out and grabbed at my hair, yanking my head up. I swore at the pain. His eyes met mine and I gave him the dirtiest, hardest glare I could. If my throat weren\'t so dry I would have mustered the courage to spit in his face. He was frightening. He had me where he wanted me. But in these little rebellions, I refused to make it easy for him, to be cowed like a dog...at least, not all the time.
"Simon, you are a rude, rude animal."
My voice was a hoarse, ugly whisper. "And you\'re a sick fucker! I don\'t give a damn what you think I am, you\'re -"
A jangle of bracelets sounded, and I got a harsh slap across the face. As the sting ignited a wave of pain across my face, I continued, "You\'re -"
He plugged me up with the slick heat of his cock. As my mouth began to move over it, Leander leaned low. He jerked his hips up to thrust deeper in my mouth, whispering by my ear, "You\'re no better than a whore."
And as I greedily licked and sucked like a devil of the streets, I knew he was right. I was the worst of the worst. I deserved to die. My every desire would be my own undoing.
_____________________________________________________________________________
AUTHOR\'S NOTE: This fic is almost done. I think...Reviews appreciated! :)