While at first glance risk taking may seem a milder kink than voyeurism or exhibitionism, it’s also a more complicated one. The voyeur consciously enjoys looking. The exhibitionist takes a knowing delight in showing off. The risk taker gets kicks from uncertainty, possibility and getting away with it.

 Risk takers have sex in situations where they might get caught and get a kick out of doing so. That is, I think, the difference between people who are kinky about possibly being caught, and people who are horny and get it on despite the risk.

 

Dalia Craig’s Weathering The Storm offers a perfect example of the latter – two women who are so into each other they can’t wait, but who are very nearly caught by some passersby. The scene mixes excitement with a fear of humiliation and there’s a mixed emotional response – relief in having got away with it, and self consciousness because it could have gone very wrong.

 My tale Tight, Dark Places includes two guys having sex on a balcony – one of whom is a deliberate risk taker, getting a kick out of possibly being caught. They are visible, but it’s not obvious that they’re fucking. Remaining in control enough not to let on what’s happening can be part of the thrill and the danger of such a scene.

 Cheri Crystal has a number of stories about risk takers. Risky Pursuit offers a scenario where two women go climbing in order to have sex in a rather public and hazardous place. Here the risk of discovery blends with the physical danger to create an adrenaline high. Mile High Dare, as the title suggests, involves the possibility of sex on a plane – a fantasy for many people. The risk is deliberately sought, but the audience is not. It’s an interesting blend of wanting, and not wanting to be seen.

 

So what is risk taking about? It’s clearly not about showing off and being seen. Risk takers often make efforts not to be caught. Is it the sense of getting away with it? The thrill of doing something a bit taboo without getting caught? For people who get a kick out of being humiliated, the risk/possibility of humiliation adds spice to an encounter. Imagined shame that does not actually occur, has its own peculiar allure.

 Risk taking comes in many shapes and forms. How risky an activity seems depends on how private you are. I’ve encountered guys who claim they can’t get it up at all with someone aside from their partner in the house. You might risk being overheard and disturbed, or having the neighbours know what you are doing (approximately). Some people get a kick out of suspecting that others can hear them.

 It might be about finding a secret place where you hope not to be interrupted. As someone who likes to play outside, I’ve a fair amount of experience of that. There, the pleasure lies entirely in getting away with it. Then there are those who court risk, barely hidden – like a rather startled couple I encountered in a Birmingham park one day who clearly hadn’t expected a whole grove of druids to come ambling out of the trees… but who carried on regardless! Some people get more thrills for being closer to getting caught. It’s all about what happens inside your head – the fantasy of a sexy voyeur, or a public humiliation without the reality of dealing with any real complications. It puts an edge on things, an urgency that gets the blood pumping, and for some people that’s a real turn on.

Following on with the theme of voyerism and exhibitionism, here’s a forray into a book about someone who spends a lot of time having sex in front of a camera.

The article below is by M. King

In Devil & the Deep Blue Sea, average—albeit slightly shy and geeky—guy Jacob meets and falls for the stunning, confident Laszlo. There’s only one problem: Laszlo works in adult films and, though he’s honest about it from the very first, Jacob finds the idea, and the reality, of dating a porn star deeply uncomfortable.

He tries to rationalize it; after all, he watches porn, and intellectually he knows there’s a thriving industry behind it, but he still struggles to overcome his prejudices…and his jealousy.

In contrast, Laszlo, both emotionally and sexually, is expansive and uninhibited. He’s a total exhibitionist, in the sense that he unreservedly enjoys both giving and receiving pleasure. Laszlo takes pride in the power his sexuality gives him, but he keeps his working persona, ‘Maxim Winter’, distinct from his personal life.

Though the book is written from Jacob’s point of view, we learn Laszlo is nervous about how revealing his line of work will affect things between them. Most of his past relationships have been ruined by the same pattern of jealousy and recrimination that now threaten his and Jacob’s romance, yet Laszlo refuses to feel a shred of guilt about what he does.

On one level, he treats it as any other career—he promotes himself on the internet, and shares anecdotes and gossip from the sets with Jacob, almost failing to realize that telling his boyfriend about something funny that happened while he was having sex on camera with another man is going to cause tension.

To Laszlo, personal and professional, or emotional and sexual, are totally different things. When Jacob challenges him, he is mocking and sarcastic, angered by hearing the same questions and complaints he has heard so often before.

Abruptly, Laszlo pushed away from the window, voice sharp and raw.

“Because the money’s good, it feels good, and I look fuckin’ awesome doing it! Okay? That what you want to hear?”[…] “Come on, next one.” He threw his hands up in spiteful encouragement. “Quick! Aw, come on. There’s always a next one. ‘Why aren’t I enough?’ How about that?”

For Laszlo, being Maxim Winter is about freedom. Exhibiting his body and sharing his most intimate physical moments with an unseen audience—potentially of several thousand people—is an empowering, liberating thing.

However Jacob, almost by default, finds himself cast as a voyeur, and he doesn’t enjoy it. For him, there is a clear and finite line “between fantasizing about a hot scene, and thinking about the reality of fucking for money in some anonymous hotel room or semi-public studio.”

Early in their relationship, Jacob forces himself to watch one of Maxim Winter’s movies. He’s turned on by what he sees, but at the same time hates the reality of watching Laszlo:

 Jacob couldn’t sit through any of those scenes to their completion. He hated seeing Lasz—Maxim—vulnerable in front of the camera, when his chest flushed and his breathing tautened and his body bucked against someone else’s. Stupid, Jacob told himself, because it was fucking hot and—in any other movie—he’d have loved it. Any other actor. But, knowing him, it just seemed wrong. 

 The problem for Jacob is that his voyeurism is automatically transformed into hypocrisy. He knows that, by being honest with him, Laszlo has nothing to be ashamed of, and no reason to apologize. But, next to his effortless, feral sexuality, Jacob feels inferior, and that enrages him.

As Jacob descends deeper into circuitous, self-absorbed jealousy, he is torn between his growing love for Laszlo, and the loss of control with which that emotion threatens him.

Ultimately, that—the question of how much we truly share ourselves with others, and how we deal with the act of doing so—is the central theme with which Devil & the Deep Blue Sea engages.

And there are no quick, easy answers.

What’s your favourite kind of m/m pairing? Do you like guys who are of an age, and physically similar, or are you more a fan of diversity? Do Dom/sub stories speak to you? Or would you rather a gentle helping of vanilla? I consulted the regulars at His and His to get a better sense of who writes what. If you don’t see a pairing that appeals to you, post a comment, you might inspire someone to write it!

 

Max Griffin: Most of the relationships I write are pretty vanilla. Often, the main character is a bit submissive, someone who gets pleasure from giving it to others. The conflict in the story often involves some kind of movement to a more balanced relationship in which the two guys give to each other, regardless of the sexual role they assume. I’ve been tempted to dabble in the S/M, D/s world in my fiction, but probably don’t know enough about it to be realistic.

 

Jane Bled: Well, I admit that I LOVE writing men in their twenties/thirties (maybe because I’m only 26 and don’t feel I have enough life experience to write about older men–and writing younger characters doesn’t really interest me).  Also, at least one of my characters usually has Alpha Male tendencies.  Other than that, I mix it up!

 

Jaime Samms: Old friends seems to be a big thing with me. People coming to the realization that they are more than just friends. Part of this is because I do think strong relationships grow from knowing a person well, not from infatuation and the heady rush of first meetings. That isn’t to say there’s no infatuation in my stories, just that it stems from a much deeper place than how a person looks. I do believe you can find yourself completely taken with a person you’ve known for a very long time, if you suddenly see them in the right light. I have a few stories with some very light D/s relationships, too, but nothing very explicit or heavy into that lifestyle.

 

Alex Morgan:  I enjoy writing D/s and BDSM very much. So I think I will always write about those aspects. I will write vanilla, of course, but will forever come back to D/s and BDSM.

 

Nix Winter: I like D/s, very loving relationships, true love, soul mates.

 

Bryn Colvin: I realise the majority of my m/m stories feature younger guys, more of an age than not. Tight Dark Places has an age gap, Denial has some bondage. I’ve not done much serious kink with my m/m fiction and I should perhaps remedy that! I love combat as foreplay, and having two male characters sparring is perfect, but I haven’t written it yet!

Fear, pain, danger, injury, agony… for most of us mere mortals, there’s only so far BDSM games can go before they get too dangerous. In real life, most of us have no desire to end up in hospital, missing limbs, bleeding to death or otherwise suffering in extremis. There are safewords for a reason.

 

Fiction however can be very much about escape and fantasy. While I can appreciate a true to life tale, it’s also wonderful to be totally beyond the realms of personal experience. I like play fighting. I find it a turn on. Mistress Nimue’s ‘Trial by Combat’ explores this very theme, with people hitting each other about as foreplay. But if the people can really beat each other to a pulp, that’s all the more exciting. Real people can’t go that far – not and still want to shag each other, but super-humans can. Vampires, werewolves and other unnatural beasties heal quickly, in more myths than not. It means they can play rough. Really rough. Then heal up, and carry on.

 

Mistress Nimue’s ‘Heaven and Hell’ includes a serious bitch fight between a psychic vampire and a werewolf, as well as some distinctly nasty lesbian werewolf BDSM. It’s fantasy. The usual rules of what it is ok for people to do to each other simply don’t apply any more. Isn’t that liberating? I love it.

 

Which is probably why I particularly love Jane Bled’s ‘Master – Crimson’ story. Here we have cute gay vampire lads, who can’t admit they fancy each other, so frequently resort to beating each other up. Broken fingers. Dislocated joints. Punches. Biting. All the sexual tension they find themselves unable to explore comes out instead in the violence. It is seriously hot stuff. And there’s no guilt. The boys are vampires. They can do each other an obscene amount of damage, and long term it means nothing. Both can and will heal.

 

There is darkness in my psyche, I freely admit it. I know I am not alone. Many of us have darker streaks and tastes, turned on by things it might not be easy to admit to in our regular lives. There’s a reason we have a pornography of violence in the modern film industry. Pain is sexy. Suffering, agony, torment can all be arousing and devastatingly seductive. In the realms of dark fantasy, I can play. I can pretend. It isn’t real. No one actually gets hurt, and we create the kinds of characters who can suffer beautifully for all time, and never get old, or die, or phone the police or otherwise break the spell.

Imagine the scene – the perfect wedding day, a celebration of love and monogamy. 

In a relationship herself, Anna is eyeing up her old flame John. Later, she catches him in the garden, and all the old chemistry bubbles up anew. But this isn’t a tale of adultery, not really. Anna’s regular partner knows where she is, and he has a fair idea of what she’s doing. Afterwards, he will demand all the details. It’s not exactly a conventional relationship.

Anna wants to have both of her men at the same time, and she wants to watch them get each other off. How far will these two hot guys go to keep her happy?

 

This is my third story dealing with polyamorous lifestyles. Teacher’s Pet and Living Dangerously also express that. In Teacher’s Pet a married man is starting an m/m relationship. Living Dangerously has an older women getting into a curious arrangement with a young male couple. Polyamoury is not like having affairs, because there is trust and honesty between all the participants. It’s not like swinging either. Swinging may well involve a trusted partner, but is mostly about casual sex. Polyamoury is about relationship, and about being in love with more than one person. As a lifestyle choice, it’s complicated, and can make other people uncomfortable. It’s not about being straight, gay or bi either, although if you have a bi nature to express, this is a more honourable way of doing it.

Our beloved publisher encourages the authors here to write what they know. There’s a world of difference between writing from experience and writing from pure imagination – both are good, but in different ways. Part of the joy of writing m/m as a woman is that its all about imagining. That’s very different from a gay guy writing from a position of knowledge and experience. So, this is my contribution to ’scene’ writing here at LYD. I’m only just coming out, but last week an ex decided to make my lifestyle widely known to my social circle, so there doesn’t seem to be much point obfuscating any more! That said, I may be writing what I know, but I am not writing autobiography in any of these tales.

This time I’ve wandered into the realms of magical healing. There are plenty of people out there whose conditions can’t be helped much by mainstream medicine. Mental health especially so. Prozac, that famous antidepressant actually increases the risk of people killing themselves! Sometimes, when you are really mad, what you need is a mad solution.

Bee is a psychic healer. She has the kind of magic a mainstream doctor would call ‘delusional’. Able to get inside people’s heads, she can use her empathy and insight to support them in harrowing times. However, new patient Jez Hastings is beyond anything she has seen before – almost catatonic, he has retreated deep inside himself and doesn’t want to communicate with the world. After their peculiar meeting, the connection doesn’t go away, and Bee is haunted by this troubled man.

Fate brings them back together, but its far from easy. What would you do, if you knew your lover’s darkest secrets? it’s definitely a headfuck…

 

photo from Photobucket

Chapter Eight

The door locked and bolted, protected them from an unlikely intrusion. But they weren’t worried. Their minds stayed riveted on each other. His eyes lingered over the deep V in her robe. The drapes undulated in the cool night air that breezed into Lenore’s apartment.  Fucking is a foregone conclusion now. The word ‘no’ seemed a foreign word that she wouldn’t ever want to say to Sawyer. A slight wind tickled her hands, face and legs. In contrast, his warm body pressed her back into the cushions. His hands roamed over her clothed body tantalizing her senses. He untied the belt at her waist and parted her robe. Her voluptuous breasts hid under her see-through gown. His flickering gaze displayed his building hunger.

Much to her delight, his fingers stopped and lingered on her puckered aureole. Through the thin fabric,  he toyed with her tight, hard buds, and murmured against her mouth. “My baby’s cold.” His hand left her quivering breast, reached up turned the living room lamp off. “I’ll take care of you. Maybe warm you up. Would you like that?”

“Yes.” She scooted closer and ran her tongue along the line of his taut lips, giving him a come on signal, unlike she’d ever given any man. She darted her tongue between his lips and deeply into his mouth. He doesn’t realize how much I need his type of warming.

He didn’t return the kiss. “Mm, I’d love to.”

Her pussy clenched as an image of the coupling tormented her. “Do it.” Tie me up. Fuck me and make me cry in ecstasy.

What seemed an erotic chuckle erupted from deep within his body as the soft cushions depressed under their weight. He didn’t settle next to her until her clothed breasts pressed into his chest. “I love your breasts.” His thigh parted her housecoat and splayed her legs for his plunder. “They’re just the right size.” He pulled the belt from the robe she lent him and tossed it behind him. The head of his thick shaft prodded her pubic bone, with only a thin layer of fabric separated their loins. It’s presence served as a delectable reminder.

“That’s much better.”

“I need this,” she shamelessly said. “So bad.” Twitching in her agony,  she visualized the erotic picture they had to make as he nuzzled her throat. Her legs spread for him in an unholy way, her pussy open and receptive to his thrust. Her clit engorged. This man is repossessing my body, mind, and soul. I want it. I want him. All the reasons that had happened blurred.  Finding ecstasy and achieving an orgasm filled her mind and blocked out the world.  Put your mouth on me. Make me whole, magnificent man, so worthy of my lust. Give me sustenance so I can go on.

His words, “Let me take care of you,” were music to her ears.

He bit her in spots that were known to rapidly turn women on. The sites of his nips started on her breasts, inched down to her rib area. He bit her tummy and drew wet circles around her navel on his southward journey. He curled a finger around the slender, silky crotch of her panties and pulled it aside. She felt his teeth scraping against sensitive skin and his tongue furrowing through the trimmed hair on her pubic mound.

When his wicked lips tugged at her lips, an agonizing cry of  “Oh my God!” imparted her mouth. She’d never experienced such arousing tactics.

“You’re wet.”

Her greed propelled her to lift breathe his name. She’d beg for more, if she had to do it.

The tip of his tongue ran from the base of her slit to the top and he bit her mons until she whimpered indecipherable language.  His naughty tongue delved in and lapped mercilessly her clitoris. His day old beard scratched her sensitive sex. Waves of fiery sensation shot through her body, making it difficult to lie still. An exquisite assault. His fervid electrified her body and elicited a primitive, raw moan that she didn’t know she was capable of uttering. Her body shuddered, begging to peak. “Make me cum.”

“Not yet. It’s too soon,” he said as if he had all the time in the world.  “Have you ever been fucked in the ass?”

She groaned with desire, remembering how tight and deep he could work his cock into her.  “Yes.”

He pulled her forward and smacked her ass, making the skin sting. “Who did that to you?”

“You did.”

She tried to thresh about, but couldn’t move because he had her pinned down.

“I know what you like.” Extraordinary tenderness entered his demeanor. He extended a finger and drew some hair away from her damp face. “But tonight, we’ll get the first time out of the way. Okay?” he asked,  as two fingers slid into her pussy. He smacked her buttocks again when she gasped.

“Y-yes.”

With husky tenderness he murmured, “You’re so wet and tight.”

“Do you have handcuffs at home?”

“Yesssss,” he hissed.

“Bring them with you next time.”

* * *

Just like old times, this woman turned him on. He loved the dark, sensual shade of her skin, her bright, doe brown eyes and her pouty lips. His heart began to pound and he ached to have her right then, right there, mindlessly. But he didn’t want meaningless sex. He wanted to indulgently draw this moment out like he drank an expensive wine, savoring its taste and making it memorable. Years ago, a bright-eyed young man, just out of his teens he acted without thought. Oddly enough, I’d never been this aware of how much she affected me, until now. Her tight pussy will feel good. He bit the waistband of her panties and drew them down her legs, her newly bared pussy fiercely beckoning. He tossed the undergarment away, knowing the havoc he must wreak. His large hands kneaded the underside of her thighs and pushed them to her heaving chest. Leaning forward to her core he lowered is mouth onto her moist hotbed, rubbed her sensitive skin with his day’s beard growth and tweaked a nipple. Upon gently biting her engorged lips and clitoris, she squirmed. Her pussy begged for penetration. Shudders wracked her body as he grazed. She exhaled and moaned, moving her head from side to side.

Teasing her flesh he ran his hands up her inner thighs, all the while ruminating about the moment he’d cum inside her. No other woman, could put him in this state. He rose, slipped one arm under her legs and one arm around her back and carried her over the soft carpet that sank under his feet. “Is the bedroom this way?” All these years he wondered what it’d be like to once again enjoy her lips and have her body. He wanted to wrap her around him like a quilt and sink himself into her.

“It’s down the hallway. The first bedroom to the right.”

The time had come for the evening’s serious business to start. “The night is young.”

————————–

Carol McKenzie’s web address: http://carol-mckenzie.com

http://xanga.com/mckbooks

http://myspace.com

 

Chapter 4  - by Lady Midnight

 

In the Room of Dominion

 

Lady Velvet stood before the full-length mirror as Chrissy, her new slave, tightened the corset. The lavender leather melted around her curves as if it were painted. “We have very special guests tonight, darling, and you look adorable.”

 

“Thank you, Mistress,” Chrissy mewed with a bat of her lashes.

 

Lady Velvet moved through the wide corridor, her signature velvet skirt dusting the carpeted surface. Past antiques and museum-quality paintings collected from the world over by doting admirers, she swirled into the atrium with Chrissy on her heels.

 

“Mistress, is there something I can do for you?”

 

“As I said, darling, these guests are special. The room is prepared to specifications, and we have nothing more to do than welcome them.” The Lady sat at her desk, and clicked on the monitor for a remote inspection of the venue. “Actually, darling, we are serving as Dungeon Masters, and have nothing to do but sit here and watch…just to make sure no one gets hurt.”

 

“Mistress, have I told you lately that I LOVE this job?”

 

Lady Velvet stroked through the soft strands of the girl’s hair and pinched a nipple. “Sweet baby.” Turning back to her work, she noticed that Jase had arrived…looking jittery. But Cap was already waiting in a dark corner, the predator. She could feel his hunger.

 

With the stealth of a leopard, he dropped onto the seat of the bike and captured his prey. Those huge arms wrapped like tentacles. The color of Jase’s vitality drained instantly as he froze. His instinct had failed him.

 

“This is going to be an interesting evening,” Lady Velvet murmured. As the proper hostess, she rose from her chair and stood near the door. Moments later, it burst open revealing an old friend, Cap, and his latest acquisition. “My Lord,” she said warmly.

 

Because Jase was wrapped tightly in his right arm, he extended his left hand.   

“And how are you, dear Lady?” he asked with a wink.

 

The rigidity of his muscles and narrowness of his eyes spoke of his agitation. “As always, My Lord, I’ll be here if you need anything.” With a nod she directed him down the hallway to his most revisited fantasy land.

 

Cap dragged Jase into the corridor and opened the door on The Room of Dominion. The equipment he needed to make this little slut his own sprawled before him. In the corner was an exam table replete with stirrups for close-up inspections. In the center a veritable Jungle Gym made of 2” box steel sporting an incline board, St. Andrew’s cross, a spanking horse and a swing. Under the black light the lateral surfaces glowed in lavender neon.

 

Cap tossed tonight’s victim to an empty corner upholstered in the same soft vinyl, reflecting the lavender light. Jase’s nose pressed into the thick padding, his body shivering. The man’s weight held him firmly as the hands groped his flesh.

 

“I know Velvet gave you a mask to reduce you to nothing but an object for me. But I have something better.” Cap grabbed a half-mask hood off the wall and dropped it over Jase’s head. The zipper closed to trap him within his own anxiety now. The collar wrapped around his neck and the click of a lock resounded. Perfectly blinded, no matter how much he struggled he couldn’t remove the hood.

 

The anxiety Cap so loved swelled in Jase to a flash point. He jerked violently, his heart pumping wildly. Coherent thought had ceased in favor animal instinct. The need to flee hardened him for battle.

 

He thrust backwards in Cap’s grip to throw him off. This man was a monster, the hardened cock lengthening up his spine. “Easy, sweetie, you’re okay.” Quite generously, Cap backed off to let Jase breathe.

 

“I’ve done the wrong thing,” he admitted.

 

Cap released his hold completely. “No, you haven’t, honey. You need this in ways you can’t even imagine yet. Instinctively, you know you need it.” He took a few steps backwards to widen the distance between them. “Listen to my voice,” he commanded. “Turn around.”

 

Jase’s heart fluttered wildly to hear the deep growl of a powerful force. Unable to command himself, his feet shuffled to face his attacker. Unable to see, only to scent the lust swelling in a cloud of sweet perfume, he insisted, “I’ve done the wrong thing.”

 

“The belt,” Cap said. “Open it.”

 

Jase’s hand rose slowly as he repeated, “I’ve done the wrong thing.” The belt swished through the loops and fell to the floor. As he reached to open his pants, he heard a distant voice say ‘Slowly, I’m watching.’ Painfully, his cock stabbed at the zipper as he lowered it.

 

His jeans fell to his ankles, revealing him completely and offering himself as some kind of sacrifice. Dizzy with the sensations of helplessness, he pulled his T-shirt over his head and dropped it. He pressed into the padded walls feeling the roving eyes of a hungry man

deciding his fate.

 

“I’ve done the wrong thing,” he cried.

 

But he was powerless to run, to save himself, to even throw himself at the mercy of this man. He felt a disturbance in the air as if a storm brewed. Fingers wrapped around his thigh.

 

“You’ve never sucked cock before, boy.”

 

Jase shook in agreement, his fear having overwhelmed his flaccid organ. “How could you know that?”

 

Master laughed, always amused by these new ones, these over-achievers and wannabes. “It’s what you need, boy. On your knees.”

 

As if the bones in his legs melted, he slipped against the wall. He heard the rip of a zipper as his knees met the floor.

 

“This is easier if you let me do it,” Cap said. “And don’t ever forget how much I appreciate virgins. Hold your hands behind your back.”

 

Slowly, Jase obeyed. Instantly, the air instantly heated and closed around him. He felt small and puny in this space, yet a sense of calm washed over him. The scent of this god swelled to ease his fear. Still, he insisted, “I’ve done the wrong thing.”

 

“Shhhh,” Cap purred. So anxious to have this one, he reached out to stroke the boy’s cheek. “You may address me as Sir.”

 

But no words issued forth. Jase’s tongue swept over his lips as his head snapped in the direction of Cap’s hand. His mouth opened, his own hunger surging to command his will.

 

A thumb swept into his mouth, his jaw clamping down as if it were sustenance. The taste of salt, the residue of tobacco, and perhaps, a little herb lingered there, enriching an emptiness he’d long harboured. Starving for something he’d fantasized of constantly, he sucked hard.

 

To hear that grumble of laughter from his captor only enlivened his need. Cap knew why he had fought it so long even if he didn’t. Jase released his hold on his hands and let them sweep upward. But a sudden stab in his mouth stilled him completely.

 

“No!” The sound pierced his ears with a thud. The thick thumb in his mouth pressed hard on his tongue to take control. “Put your hands behind your back and pay attention to me, boy.”

 

Tears lurched into his eyes, frightened to anger this man. Quickly, he grabbed a wrist and was forced to straighten by the thumb winding down his throat.

 

“It’s so much easier when you let me do it, honey.”

 

Violently, his throat contracted as he gagged. Only slowly, Cap removed his thumb and stroked the slick moisture over his cheek. Coughing to steady to himself, Jase gasped, “Yes, Sir.”

 

“Oh, I like that. That feels good,” Cap insisted. “Say it again.”

 

His breath quivering, Jase ground out, “Yes, Sir.”

 

“That could make me fall in love, sweetheart,” Cap taunted. His thumb pressed into the cheek to create a little pain. “Let it open. Let go of the jaw and let it open.”

 

Cap wrapped his fingers to Jase’s face to ease the lips apart. Tempting him, he swept the flesh between thumb and fingers over the teeth. “I want my sluts to be available. But I can see this is your first time out.”

 

Jase dropped to his ass, his heels digging into the hard muscles. Overwhelmed by this closeness, his head dropped to the wall. The atmosphere was superheated as if a blowtorch neared. The enflamed skin of a cock rubbed over his cheek to his ear.

 

“Oh god, Sir,” Jase screamed. His head swiveled toward the heat with laser accuracy. His mouth opened to capture the head of the huge cock and clamped down.

 

“Easy, you little whore,” Cap laughed. He stroked the jaw to loosen it a little as he angled toward the roof of the mouth. “Fallatio is an artform.”

 

Jase shuddered to feel this submission. Still fighting off the rush of hormones from fear, his tongue stroked the massive length. He dared guess what it was; he was forbidden to touch. With only enough contact to stroke his lust, the cock retreated.

 

“Sir, no, please…”

 

Cap closed Jase’s jaw and forced him to the corner. “You need it,” Cap growled.

 

“Yes,” Jase gasped. “I don’t know why.”

Cap dusted his cock over the quivering lips. He squeezed the length of his penis for the few drops of cum that would change this man’s life. “You need it,” he insisted.

 

Jase’s tongue flicked over his lips, a taste like nothing other, yet it had the power to charge his nervous system. As if everything in his body finally stabilized, he nodded. Tremors rolled through his body realigning his energy, his focus, and his need on this single source of sustenance.

 

“I need it, Sir,” he cried out.

 

By the collar, he was jerked upright and dragged across the room. He landed squarely on his back, the sensation of cold, unfeeling vinyl enveloping his senses. Straps were pulled over his chest and hips; his hands were stretched and lashed to the wall behind. Forced into the stirrups, his ankles were tied tightly.

 

Completely locked down, Jase cried out, the words nonsensical.

 

“No need to fight me, boy. You’d find yourself in a much better place if you’d care to seduce me.”

 

As if he’d been hurtling through space and suddenly hit a wall, Jase’s body cramped. Every muscle screamed in agony to be restrained. Yet he could feel his cock lengthening as if his Master willed it. Seduce this man?

 

“Look at that,” Cap snarled. “You might have thought you did the wrong thing, but the cock is exactly where it wants to be.” His heated hand wrapped around the tight sac and squeezed a little.  “You’re gonna relax, or it’s gonna hurt really bad.”

 

“Master, please let me suck you,” Jase screamed.

 

A twist of evil saturated the laughter. Cap forced the knees open and stood between them. His finger drew a ticklish circle on the belly outlining the Jase’s cock without touching it. “You’re gonna learn to suck cock, sweetheart. But I don’t want you to fall into any bad habits. Lady Velvet teaches that class.”

 

“Sir!” Jase roared. The emptiness rose once again and overwhelmed him. He jerked violently against the bonds, his knees clamped to Cap’s sides. Like a caged animal he fought against the impossible.

 

Amused, Cap watched this well-adorned and endowed Adonis squirm uncontrollably. The energy that hunger created stroked his own desire. Letting it rise to a fever-pitch, the color in the boy burning brightly now, he grabbed the cock like the strike of a cobra. His fingers crushed on the trunk-like organ.

 

“Oh Sir,” Jase panted. His chest heaved in an effort to sustain him. Never before had he felt such power in an embrace. Completely rattled, his resistance evaporated and his body seemed to collapse.

 

Without warning, the thick fingers wrapped to the cheeks of his ass. The lubed weapon pushed at his hole. “This is all you need, boy. Whatever I say you need. You’re gonna service a lot of cock while you’re with me, but you need none of them but this one.”

 

The rigid dick felt like a pipe bomb as it opened the muscles. The sensation of being taken, of being stolen away from everything monotone into a sparkling place of pain and paradise filled Jase’s vision. With a heavy sigh, he opened completely to swallow his Master.

 

“That’s exactly what I want from you, boy. Surrender.” Gently, Cap stroked the virgin hole, his heart swelling to feel this peacefulness rise. This one satisfied in ways others didn’t. This virgin innocence on a Harley spoke of a range of expression uncommon in most. He held the hips and forced in a little deeper to illicit a moan. “I am all you’ll ever need, slave.”

 

The boy’s voice deepened to the register of lust as his hips thrust forward. Within the narrow limits of movement, he writhed best he could, the muscles rippling over the abdomen. Cap grasped his sides, feeling the resistance and the fear dispelled by this one simple action. As Lady Velvet would say, a thirty-something virgin is a sin.

 

“Master, I have to cum,” Jase cried.

 

“No, you don’t,” Cap growled. He clenched on the boy’s cock and twisted hard to break the sensation. “You cum when I let you, baby. So pay attention.”

 

The rythym was Cap’s as he slowly drilled deep. The rough surface of his palm stroked the boy’s organ as his hips retreated and then dove. “You cum with me, boy. It’s okay if it hurts. That little virgin hole is gonna clamp tight when you cum…just the way I like it.”

 

Like a power-stroke engine, Cap jerked the cock. Jase screamed, his ass filled with a bomb ready to explode. It pulled out only a little to take aim at his prostate. With one steady push, it crushed in.

 

“Master!!!” The table creaked as he jerked violently, the straps strained to their limit. His anus tightened into bands of steel sending a searing pain into his nervous system. A gush of fire from his Master’s cock ignited an explosion in his balls. As if he’d never cum in his life, his cock ripped open.

 

 Cap shuddered as he panted, soaking up this little slut’s energy like a parched sponge. “Very good boy,” he praised. Gently, his hand’s wrapped around Jase’s heaving rib cage.

 

“Don’t leave me,” Jase uttered, his voice broken with shame. Insistently, he wiggled and admitted, “It hurts so bad.”

 

“Just breathe,” Cap purred. He pulled his slowly-wanning organ out just a little to re-freshen the sensation. “You don’t want  me to leave because it hurts so good, honey.” With a quick yank, Cap parted from his slave. He stepped away from the table to let the air settle.

 

“Master, your cock, I need to suck it.”

 

“I know what you need, boy. I’ll be out of town this week, but if you’re a good and learn your lessons from Lady Velvet on cock-sucking, I may have something special for you when I see you next weekend. I trust you have the ability to remove the clothing in the garage now?”

 

“Yes, Sir, I do.”

 

“I expect to see you hooded, the hood locked, on your knees and elbows on the cold concrete floor waiting for me.”

 

Jase nodded, knowing he could depend on Lady Velvet to get him prepared to meet his Master again. “Will I hear from you this week?”

 

“If I find the time. I’m more interested in what the Lady has to say. She’ll be in to take care of you in just a little bit.”

 

Jase nodded, more aware of himself than he had been for hours. Spasms in his muscles gripped him as surely as that man had, redoubling as he heard the door slam. On fire and left abandoned, his confusion began to rise. But only a moment later, he heard her voice cooing, “Very good boy.”

 

Quickly, the straps were released and air filled his lungs. His knees creaked as they bent and his shoulders clenched as he tried to move them. With a quick snap of the lock, the hood was removed. His vision filled with her smile, her figure shadowed by the purple haze of neon light.

 

“Where is he?” Jase asked incredulously. “Was he even real?”

 

“He’s very real, darling, let me assure you completely.” She grabbed his hand as Chrissy shoved from behind. Barely able to find the floor with his feet, he wrapped around both to be led away.

 

In the bathroom, he was laid on a table with a plastic pillow under his head. A soft mist of warm water heated by sunlamps danced over his flushed skin. Chrissy wrinkled her nose with a Valley Girl sigh as she giggled. “That was fucking hot, honey.” She laid a damp wash cloth over his eyes to protect them.

 

“Alright, darling, we have only a week to get that throat open for Master. Work, work, work,” Lady Velvet sighed. “But I suggest you get him cleaned up, because you have a few more chores this evening.” Lady Velvet trapped the little slave between her hips and the table.

 

With the heat of Lady’s thighs sizzling on her own, she mewed, “Labors of love, my Mistress.” 

 

“I’d like to plan the boy’s work week while you…”

 

“I know, Mistress. You do your best work in bed.”

 

 

www.mastersofthedungeon.com

 

 

 

Being very drawn to alternative forms of medicine, my stories for Bedside Manor are very much based around non conventional forms of medicine. Thus far I have two tales for sale through the website.

 

‘Dream Doctor’ is based on a condition I read about in new scientist, but I won’t spoil the surprise by saying what it is! Having minored in psychology at college, I’m fascinated by all things pertaining to sleep, dreaming and sleep disorders. My healer in this story isn’t a medic, but a psychologist working in a research facility and trying to understand – and thus alleviate – sleep disorders. His key patient is a prisoner, brought to him in handcuffs. She’s a sassy, challenging woman with some serious problems.

 

‘Alternative Therapies’ explores what happens when a conventional GP and an alternative healer come into conflict with each other. As the two women spar, the sexual tension rises and of course there’s plenty of intense girl/girl action once they get past their prejudices and figure out how to relate to each other.

 

I think that sex can be a very powerful, healing thing. Mainstream medicine deems any kind of sexual contact between doctor and patient totally unethical. However, when it comes to healing hearts and minds, sensual touch is so powerful. Relationships, trust, and orgasms can do a lot to make a person feel better!