his head and brushed his lips against Bastian’s, sipped. Their tongues touched, licked, deepening into a kiss. With a groan of pent-up longing, he melted as Michael ate his mouth, devouring him.
Michael pulled back slightly, panting, his dark eyes glittering dangerously. “You know better than anyone what I want, what I
“Oh, God.” His dick jerked in response. He’d waited for too long for this.
Michael laughed, a purely sexual sound. One palm skimmed over Bastian’s muscled chest, then to his straining crotch. “You’re mine. I’m gonna tie you down, make you beg for mercy. Pop quiz: who do you belong to?”
Bastian could barely speak. This was the man who turned him on like no one else. Predatory, with wicked tastes that made him a little afraid, and who he was sure would take his experiences to heights no one else ever had, not even Blaze.
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Michael warned.
“You, Michael. I belong to you,” he rasped. Strong fingers plucked at the drawstring on his pajamas, worked down the fabric. Jesus, Michael smelled so damned good.
“That’s right. In this room, I’m your master, and when you’re desperate for mercy, screaming my name, I’ll show you none.” He slid the sleep pants down Bastian’s legs, face darkening as his cock sprang free. Pressing close again, he breathed another promise into his captive’s mouth. “No mercy, baby. Make no mistake — I’m going to punish you until you submit to my will. Fuck the hell out of that beautiful body. There’s no turning back now.”
Pulse hammering, Bastian watched as Michael stepped back and removed his boxers. Totally naked, he was a pagan god, and never failed to make his mouth water.
“Get on the bed,” he ordered. “Facedown.”
Bastian did as he was told and lay on his stomach, his dick like a steel pipe squashed between him and the mattress. His wrists were jerked behind his back and bound with a piece of rope, tight enough to give him pause. But Michael said he wouldn’t truly hurt him, and he trusted his lover.
The other man’s weight pressed him down, stiff cock sliding along his rear. One hand grabbed a fistful of his hair, jerked his head back. Then the padded leather collar was worked over his head and tightened, as well. Belatedly, he realized that the device was a choke collar, a chain looped through it, and a ripple of real fear shot through him. Along with a mad craving unlike anything he’d experienced before.
“You’re my prisoner, my sex slave. Have any idea what I do to them?” his captor growled.
“N-no.”
“You’ll find out. On your knees.”
Michael moved off him and stood at the side of the bed, waiting. Insides shaking in anticipation, Bastian went to him on his knees. The man reached behind him, wrapped the chain around his wrist for leverage, and gave a vicious yank, causing him to gasp in pain — and pleasure.
“Suck me.”
Bastian bent to him, desperate to wrap his fingers around Michael’s hot, thick shaft, to touch his body. But his submission, his punishment, was part of this evening’s rules. As a bottom, his role was to give his master as much pleasure as possible, to surrender his body with complete trust. Allow his master to do whatever he wished. Michael would tolerate nothing less. A thrill knotted his stomach.
Bastian licked the wide, pearly head, then took the cock into his mouth. Sucked deeper, deeper. Cherished the silky skin between his lips. Michael groaned, hands pushing his head down in rhythm to his strokes.
“That’s my boy. Jesus, yeah. Suck it.”
He took the entire length down his throat, lips grazing the very base. He might be bound, but he had power over his master at the moment and it filled him, aroused him. Michael must have sensed this, and pulled out.
The man laughed. “No, you don’t. Lie on your stomach again, feet at the headboard.”
He did, turning his head to the side to rest his cheek against the bedspread, and the position stretched the chain to its limit. The collar exerted enough pressure to completely subdue him, remind him of his submission, but not enough to harm him.
His legs were spread wide, his ankles placed in the restraints. He craned his neck to look around at Michael, and saw him holding a riding crop, tapping it against his palm, eyes black with lust.
“Now, babe, you’ll start begging.”
“No,” he whispered, wiggling to get away. But there was nowhere to go, and he knew he didn’t really want to escape. Still, he begged. “Please don’t.”
The blow landed across his buttocks, sending shock waves of stinging pain and erotic gratification to every cell in his body. Especially his cock. Raw hunger washed over him, fusing with the sweet torture.
“Please, no!”
He twisted, unable to move. “You! No more, I’m begging you!” But the blows intensified.
“You know how to make this stop. Say the word.”
“No,” he murmured. His cock was a lightning rod for this torment.
He was barely aware of Michael’s movements as the crop was tossed aside and the other man lay beside him. A hand burrowed in his hair and then Michael’s mouth captured his, licking away the tears.
“You did well, but I’m not through with you — not even close,” he said softly. “Tell me again — who owns you, body and soul?”
“Y-you. No one but you.” He tried to still his thundering heart.
“And what am I going to do to you?”
“Punish me.”
“That’s exactly right. And you’re going to love every minute. Isn’t that so?”
“Yes, sir.” Tremors shook him as he waited. The whipping had stung, but Michael had never truly hurt him. He wouldn’t. He’d said so. But just the hint of the unknown, that thrill of fear, nearly made him come.
Michael sat up and moved between his splayed legs. Bastian tried to see what he was doing, but couldn’t. Cool liquid was smoothed over his heated ass, easing the slight pain. His tormentor worked the oil over his skin, between his thighs, and rubbed his balls. Then his cheeks were parted and two big fingers plunged into his hole.
“Ohh.”
“Very good. That’s it, relax. Give yourself to me completely.”
Michael’s fingers stroked, working in the lube, stretching him. When his wet tongue joined his fingers, Bastian gasped as the fire surged again.
“You’re so tight. When I fuck you, you’re gonna scream.” He leaned over to the bedside table to get something. Bastian started when he saw that it was a rolled-up strip of black silk. “Wouldn’t want to wake the entire household, would we? Open your mouth.”
“No!” But Michael slipped the gag into place and tied it firmly at the back of his head.
“I’ve been in hell for so long, needing you this way. Dying to fuck you, but denying it to myself. You’re so damned gorgeous. Since you can’t speak, two fingers means ‘sable,’ okay?” Bastian nodded, and Michael moved to pick up something. “Remember this?”
Michael held the riding crop where he could see the rough crisscross weave of the leather handle. His eyes widened. It was shiny, slick with the oil.
“Let’s see if this end can make you beg, too.”
Bastian’s pulse tripped in alarm, half afraid Michael meant to go too far, and half afraid he didn’t. Walking the line between carnal pleasure and agony was a risky proposition.
His cheeks were spread and the handle probed his hole, inching inside, then out. In and out, delving deeper
