A sequel to the first 'Encounter at John's,' not sure how far I'm going to take this, but I promise at least a third.
I woke up to something slapping the side of my face, it was John slapping me with his mostly hard dick. I leaned upward to pleasure it, but he pulled it away.
“Not yet, slave.”
He untied my hands and ankles from the bed posts, and bound my wrists together behind my back. Attaching a cock-leash, he led me out into the living room. I knelt in front of the couch while he went and made himself a cup of coffee.
He returned a few minutes later holding a steaming mug, and a donut. He sat down in front of me on the coach and smiled.
“I’m not a big breakfast eater, but I’ve gotta keep my slave healthy.” With some difficulty he managed to slide the donut over the head of his dick. I wasn’t either, but how could I refuse an offer like that? Taking great care with my teeth, I slowly ate the donut off of his shaved cock, being sure to give him a fair share of generous licks while I did.
He asked me if I wanted anything to drink, I nodded. Pulling me into the kitchen, he pulled out a cup and a carton of orange juice. Placing them both on the counter, he reached a strong calloused hand towards my cock and began to stroke me.
He must have been very practiced because within minutes, I was very horny and struggling to hold back an orgasm. Very experienced with the male body, he grabbed the cup seconds before I came. He made sure every last drop of mine ended up at the bottom of the cup before pouring the orange juice. Lifting it to my mouth, he helped me down the drink, the mixture of my own cum and the orange juice running over my tongue down my throat.
After setting the cup down and returning the orange juice to the fridge, he forced me to my knees. Instead of allowing me to pleasure him, he rubbed it up and down my cheeks and all around my face, occasionally pausing to give me a dull thwack with it. It was agonizing to be kneeling there, so close, yet unable and unallowed to do anything, to pleasure him the way I so desired.
Finally he brought me back out to the couch and sat down. He slid a hand behind my head and pulled me towards his dick. Eagerly I took the head inside my mouth and began bathing it with my tongue. He pushed me down, inch my inch I took his cock, my tongue slathering it with spit as I went. Finally I reached the bottom, my chin lightly brushing up against his balls. I continued my licks as he began to moan quietly.
I began to work a slow pace, up his cock to the head, then all the way back down again, being sure that my tongue was moving all the while. Each time he pushed my head down, thrusting into my throat. I kept my lips wrapped tightly around his cock while I serviced him. As the time wore on, his moans grew louder, and he thrust into me harder and faster. I quickened my tongue movements, trying to keep up with his pace. After several minutes he pulled his dick out of my mouth.
“Tongue out, slave,” he ordered. I let it hang out while he started rubbing his dick on it, occasionally oozing out a delicious drop of precum for me to enjoy. “Now lick my balls.” I moved down and started running light circles over them with my tongue. Then I sucked them into my mouth, one at a time, running all over them hard with my tongue, soaking them in my saliva, and prompting more moans from him.
He let me lick them for several minutes while his spit-slobbered dick lay across my face. Finally he pulled me away from his balls and up to his dick again. I took him in and immediately felt him start to swell, he’d been very close. He held me just on his head while he thrusted quickly, but minutely in and out. In no time he was cumming all over my tongue, alternating between shooting and dripping. He dropped a massive load in my mouth, and thankfully let me swallow right away. Then I worked on cleaning off his dick, and getting the last little bit of cum oozing out.
After cleaning up and getting dressed, he untied me and allowed me to put on my clothes, without underwear, and he made me wear a collar with four evenly spaced d-rings on it. We left the apartment building and turned down the sidewalk. One or two people stared at two disproportionately aged guys, one wearing a collar, but most didn’t notice.
After about fifteen minutes of walking, we reached our destination…a Porn Shop. We both entered the store and began looking around. The obviously gay guy at the counter nodded a curt hello. We quickly found ourselves in the BDSM aisle in the back of the store. There wasn’t a whole lot there that was inexpensive, or couldn’t be improvised with something else.
The cashier came over to us a few minutes later as we were the only ones in the store. “Can I help you with something…maybe you want to try something out?”
John paused for a moment, he looked a little out of place. “Maybe you could make a recommendation…something fairly cheap, but fun.”
The guy didn’t even stop to think, he grabbed what looked like a pair of leather cuffs and walked around behind me. John gave a nod of permission, and he strapped them on me. They held my wrists tight together behind my back, nothing new there, then all of a sudden my shorts were around my ankles. He ran another leather strap down my ass crack, and tightened it around my balls.
“It’s adjustable too,” he said, giving a demonstration. My wrists were pulled farther down, forcing me to arch my back and jut out my chest. My face turned red from the uncomfortability of the position, and the embarrassment of being exposed to a stranger.
“I’ll take it,” John said, leaving it on and pulling my shorts up to cover me. The strap still ran from my hands down them, but they covered all the important parts. John picked up a ring gag too and we left the store. The two things set him back about $50, but were more than worth it. Now more passersby stopped and stared at the bound kid walking down the street, and I once again felt the red of humiliation.
Finally we returned to his apartment. He removed his new toy, and stripped me naked once more. Rather than return me to its confines, he brought me to the kitchen table. It was small, when over my head, my arms hung off at the elbow, and legs at the knee. He bound them all tightly to the center post of the table in a spread eagle position, like an ‘X’ with each leg chopped in half because of my bent limbs.
Then he went into the bedroom and returned with a whip. Standing on a chair, he began to paint red stripes on my exposed belly, softly stroking his rehardened dick with his other hand while I twitched and grunted with pain. When I was good and red, he tossed the whip aside and knelt over my face. I tried to pick my head up and get a part of my mouth on his dick, but came inches short. Frustrated, I lay back on the table.
To my dismay, he never even let me taste him as be brought himself to a climax, cumming on my face, being sure to make sure I couldn’t reach any with my tongue. He grinned at me while climbing off the table, then left the room.