Bent

Wild Abandon

It's not that I forget about Jess, or that my feelings of guilt dissipate overnight, no, far from it. But, my reasoning for breaking up with her proves to be sound. Without her in my life, my access to Ethan is greatly increased. Managing three peoples' schedules is way, way easier than managing four. Liza is working long hours at her new job and Ethan's place is only two stops from mine. Stopping in after work without having to worry about lining our stories up, or risking the girls catching us in a lie, has given rise to a veritable free-for-all.

Now that he bottoms too, our options are seemingly endless, his ass or mine, my mouth or his, his hands, my hands...We suck and fuck, him and then me. We flip coins for it -- tails, and you're going down. We wrestle for it too, it's lighthearted, but there's no denying the near nuclear level of testosterone it ignites. Usually, though, it tends to be that whoever has the time and place to prep, takes it up the ass. On balance, that's me more often than it's him, though, every now and then, when I top him, I

TOP

him.

I've bottomed the last few times we've hooked up, and I'm getting consumed by that dark, antsy, twisted feeling. Fortunately, I now know exactly what cures this particular ailment, so I bide my time, warning him, threatening him, until I have him on the ropes, giggling nervously, as I whisper into his ear.

"You better get ready, Tough Guy. Next time I see you, your ass is mine." His eyes widen slightly, and I see a tiny bit of tension as he purses his lips slightly. He knows me well enough now to know that when this side of me raises its head, he's right to be frightened.

I call him as I leave work the next day, "I'm leaving now, I should be at yours in fifteen minutes" I say, before adding darkly, "and Ethan, you

better

be naked when I get there."

I arrive at his place and let myself in. He's in the living room, topless and barefoot, the button of his jeans unbuttoned, but clearly, he's far from naked.

This won't do

, I think,

No, this won't do at all.

I stare him down wordlessly, my eyes on his jeans making my message abundantly clear.

"I, er." He stammers sheepishly, as he quickly unzips. I cross my arms over my chest, legs spread slightly, hips jutting forward ever so slightly, as he drops his jeans and steps awkwardly out of them.

"Pick them up, and fold them neatly." I instruct, my voice booming and dripping with ice.

He leaps forward, quickly picking them up and bundling them up neatly before placing them carefully on the sofa. He's nakedness, a stark contrast to my fully clothed attire; well-cut navy trousers and closely tailored crisp, white shirt and tie. I dressed with care this morning, with this precise moment in mind.

He stands uncomfortably in front of me, unsure where to look and now and again, swaying his hand self-consciously in front of his erection. He knows I won't like this, so when he catches himself, he quickly corrects, placing his hands at his sides. Slowly, and deliberately, I roll my shirt sleeves up to my elbows. First one arm and then the other. Taking my time, allowing him to watch, knowing I look good. Even more so, knowing I look intimidating.

Without warning, I grab his wrist and drag him along as I stride purposefully to the spare room. His flat-mate moved out a couple of weeks before we met. He was considering finding a new one, but Liza has plans to move in with him at some point, so she suggested he leave it open. Now, he uses it as a gym; a work-out mat on the floor, weights on the side, and a punching bag dangling in one corner.

A few weeks back, I bought him a weight bench of sorts, a piece of sex furniture really, but fortunately, one that looks so similar to the real thing, there's no way a lay person would spot anything untoward. I confess, it gives me more than a little pleasure to know that it's there in plain sight, right in front of his girlfriend, when he and I both know only too well, the terrible things I've done to him on it.

I push him down onto the bench, so that he is bent over it lengthways, arms and legs on either side of it, chin perching sweetly on the soft leather cushioning. I spread his legs wider, binding them to the bench at the knee with a long length of coarse, hemp rope. I release the hidden mechanism which jacks one side of the bench up in quick, jerky movements, raising his ass well above his head.

A perfect target

. I repeat the process with his wrists, pulling the rope tight, securing his hands at his sides, right near his face. I take out a ball gag and show it to him pointedly, giving him time to appreciate my intentions, before asking him to open his mouth and noting with pleasure, the docile way in which he follows my instruction.

"Open your hands." I tell him. He does so, looking up at me quizzically. "You can't use our safeword with that in your mouth, so if you want me to stop, you open your hands like that. Do you understand?"

He nods emphatically.

"Show me." I say, content when I see him quickly opening his hands and then clenching them tightly in a fist.

"Good." I say quietly.

I move behind him and see that little flicker of knowing, that heightened alertness, as his body tenses ever so slightly from the threat of having a man at his back.

"Ethan," I say sternly, "I made myself abundantly clear. You were supposed to be naked when I got here."

"I, ngg, shhorri." He mumbles from behind the gag.

"I'm afraid I don't understand that garbled nonsense." I say flippantly, "But, it's of no consequence. When I give you direction, you are to follow it. You should know that by now."

"I, uhh." He tries again, trailing off, as his body flinches noticeably, as he hears me unbuckling my belt. I whip it out dramatically, making sure that it whistles through the air, as I pull it free. I double the thick leather, making it snap. His breath quickens rapidly and he winces in anticipation as I tap the belt gently against the sweet curve of his ass.

I take a second to appreciate this moment. I love seeing him like this. I love feeling his apprehension and fear, but as much as I enjoy it, I enjoy the next moment more, so I swing back my arm and with a sharp crack, I bring the belt down on his bare buttocks. He jolts forward and cries out, quivering helplessly as he waits for the next stroke. I let each lick of my belt settle and sink in deeply, before adding another, watching with satisfaction as each stroke leaves a bright red line imprinted on his flesh.

He's new to this, but by God, I

love

teaching him. He's so responsive. His pain threshold so endearingly low. I move to his front, pulling him up by his hair as I examine his beautiful face, monitoring him closely. His hair is slightly damp with sweat and his eyes are slightly bloodshot. He's gasping, sucking the gag in and out frantically as he fights to slow his breath. Trust me, if you're a sadist like me, you've never seen beauty, until you've seen Ethan like this.

"Show me your hands." I say, watching intently, as he tightly clenches his fists.

Good boy

.

I unbox the new toy slowly, letting him watch, as I ask innocently, "Any ideas where this is going to go?"

He shakes his head and looks down quickly.

My God, he is so sweet.

I work the toy in slowly, it's smaller than me, but I know first-hand that sometimes it's harder to take silicone than it is to take dick. He's grunting quietly with the effort, though he still doesn't know what he's in for, as I stroke his dick gently, feeling him thicken at my touch. I run my hand up and down along his length until his moaning grows urgent, before quickly flicking the switch on the toy sending heavy vibrations right up his rectum.

"Aaarrrghghgh!" He bellows in surprise, looking around at me frantically. I keep working his cock until he's begging, "I, haggg, to ummm!" I feel him quicken and pulse and at the very last second, I flick the switch off and let go of his dick.

"Aaaah!" He shouts in frustration, "ah, uuuck!"

I throw my head back and roar with laughter.

I repeat the process again, flicking my eyes to his hands now and again, gratified to find them still balled into fists. He's gasping frantically, alternating with long, desperate moans. Long thin ribbons of pre-cum seep from his thick, pulsing cock. This time, when I see every muscle in his body contract, I flick the switch off and circle my thumb and forefinger tightly around the base of his balls. I rub my other hand against them in small, quick circles, before rapidly slapping them with as little force as I possibly can, but still, it's more than enough to draw a long, primitive scream from him.

His legs have given way now and the bench is bearing the full weight of his body. Despite how much I'm enjoy this, I know he can't take much more, and even in my heightened, merciless state, nothing is more important to me than making him feel good. I pull the toy out of his ass and carefully replace it with my dick. I moan with pleasure as I feel the scorching heat he holds within his body. My body is alight, every nerve sizzling as I fuck him as if my life depends on it.

"Peeez, ag, nee to, uumm." He begs desperately.

"You'll cum when I'm good and ready." I reply, as I continue to pound, tilting his hips with my hands, making sure I'm hitting his spot.

"Oh, uuuuk!" He exclaims in surprise. "Ung, oing to uuum!" He's frantic now, but I'm not far behind, so I don't realise what's about to happen until it's too late. He convulses, his ass clenching frantically, howling, as he shoots load, after load, after load, totally hands-free.

I pull out and rip the condom off, jerking myself off with the zeal of a madman. Overtaken by a desperate, primal desire to mark my territory, as I rear back and spurt on his back. As soon as I'm done, I rub my hand roughly over my seed, pressing it in. Despite the futility of it, I want my DNA inside him.

I collapse on the floor next to him, reaching over and undoing the gag gently. I drape my arm over his shoulder, my hand near his face. Reassuring him. Letting him know that he's safe, as I try to catch my breath. I'm starting to come down, when I feel a peculiar rough, wetness on my hand. I look down to see him, eyes closed, carefully licking my spunk off my fingers. My heart lurches and a terrible sense of foreboding settles upon me.

He'll be the death of me.

*