Uncommon Curiosity

(Continued from The Dungeon – Part 1.  You can read Kyle’s version here.)

After Kyle had been thoroughly abused at the cross, it was time to move over to the leather swing.  I praised him repeatedly as I unclipped his cuffs and then asked him to clean off the cross for me as I walked across the room to inspect the swing.  With his pants around his ankles, he sprayed and wiped the lacquered wood with careful attention, as I watched intently.  Kyle is gorgeous, to be sure, and even more so when his attention is caught up in his work.  I inspected the job he had done and then turned to walk back to the swing when he asked if he could pull his pants back up.  I looked at him and smiled a wickedly amused smile that made him bow his head and blush – I love reminding him that I see him as an object of beauty, a plaything to enjoy.   At my command, he picked up my bag and slung the strap over his shoulder, and, with his head bowed slightly, he shuffled towards the swing, managing to radiate pride with every step, despite the weight of the toy bag and the pants that had puddled about his ankles.

He placed the bag on the ground and stood at attention, his poor abused nipples bright red and hard as steel – what I wouldn’t have given for an ice cube at that moment.  I touched and twisted those gorgeously pained nipples, looking into his face to watch the struggle within him.  His eyes narrowed and his lips curled up into a very slight snarl, but he refused to cry out, no matter how hard I tugged.  The truth is, of course, that I don’t enjoy his suffering as much as I enjoy his struggle – the internal fight to maintain composure under the most demanding of situations.  We stood there, face to face, as I smiled and he growled, the only movement between us the slow twist of my wrist, and the only sound a slight growl that pushed up from inside him.

I praised him and helped him lay back into the swing, cuffing his arms up, and then asked him, with a leer, to spread his thighs so I could work him over with the flogger.  The leather strips hit his thighs, his belly, his inner arms and his chest, but he kept his composure, so I decided to focus on the gorgeous cock that was straining against the fabric of his briefs.  I alternated slow and fast blows, hard and soft, keeping him off-guard but still giving him time to anticipate the pain that he knew would come.

As I continued to work him over, he became less and less able to control himself, with low growls building to a loud crescendo, especially when I pulled out the leather paddles.  No part of him escaped the torment, as I paddled his defenseless arms and sides, belly, thighs and calves, leaving red marks scattered across his beautifully pale skin.  He grunted, he cried out, he pulled against his cuffs, but still met me with a fiery steel gaze whenever I stopped to ask how he was.  The struggle to maintain as I slowly broke him down was gorgeous to watch, but I knew it would be time for a break soon, so I uncuffed him and offered him some water, praising his strength and his beauty, and asked him to clean up as I prepared the final setting.

I moved a big, overstuffed comfy chair into position in front of a low metal cage in another room.  It was 2-3 feet tall, and very long – room enough for someone to sit hunched over.  I love metal, and cages are a big fetish for me – cold hard confinement…they’re every kidnap/jail/force fantasy I’ve ever had come to life.  I locked Kyle’s handcuffs together and then sat down in the chair facing the cage and told him to get in.  It wasn’t easy, with his pants down around his ankles and the cuffs on his wrists, but he managed to get in and close the door.  I could see that Kyle was very eager to see what I had planned, although a bit wary of what piece of him I wanted to torture next.  I placed my sexy dom boots up on the top of the cage with my legs spread wide in front of him and told him he could have whatever he could reach.  His face lit up and then fell as he realized the torment I had devised, and a hungry growl roared up out of his belly.  The bars were spread wide enough apart for him to reach an arm out, but, cuffed to the other arm, he was restricted to just a few inches of movement.  I pulled myself closer and challenged him to touch me, and I have to admit that he struggled admirably.  He pressed his face hard against the bars, and maneuvered his hands in such a way that he could just almost reach me, so I spread my legs further and pulled in a little closer, so he could just barely stroke my thigh with the tips of his fingers.  He grunted and begged so beautifully, his mind and body set on one desperate goal, and it was delicious to be the focus of that intensity.

Soon, though, it was time for his break to be over, and I ordered him onto a nearby spanking bench.  I used a chain leash to securely attach his cuffs to one end, and then pulled down his briefs to give me full access to that gorgeous ass.  With his arms stretched out and his ass raised up in the air like that, his body was utterly and completely mine.  I began to pound his back with the flogger and his ass with a paddle, alternating to keep him off balance, but never losing momentum.  After awhile we started to attract the attentions of other denizens of the dungeon, including a very cute female couple and a far-less cute creepy guy.  Creepy guy was having trouble staying back, but I didn’t want to break the scene with Kyle so worked up, so I decided to pause the beating and move around to Kyle’s head.  I stroked him and praised him, and asked him math questions in a low whisper (partly to check how high he was flying, and partly because I just enjoy being a cruel math teacher.)  As soon as creepy guy had walked away, I went back to the beating, whacking away mercilessly and enjoying the way his back arched and flexed as I left painful red welts in his skin.

Before long Kyle had dropped his stoic facade and was putty in my hands, crying out loudly at each blow without shame.  I asked him a few more math questions, and, when he couldn’t remember how to add 7 to 35, (he looked at me blankly for a few moments, shaking his head as if trying to jar his thoughts into order and then asked, with a giggle, “um…52?”) I knew it was time to move onto the final act.  I pulled out the hitachi wand and plugged it in, placing it mercilessly against his now-dripping pussy.  He bucked violently and cried out as I admonished him not to come.

And then came the begging.

I adore the way Kyle raises begging to an art form.  He pleads and bargains, whimpers and keens, but always with an underlying growl – a reminder of the parts of him who are far less eager to give up control.  But in moments like this, the rest of him begs with abandon, joyfully giving in and reveling in submission.  It was so amazing to see him like this, thinking back to his worries that he’d never be able to perform in public, yet here he was, naked and begging to come in front of a small audience of new admirers. I held off for a few moments more, and then told him to come for me as I pressed the wand to his cunt, feeling him grind into it as he screamed out more than a few orgasms, writhing as the waves passed through him, like earthquakes across his body.

As soon as he was finished, I quickly put down the wand and unhooked his cuffs, slowly bringing him up to his feet and gently sitting him down in the chair, wrapped in a blanket.  As he started to come down, I petted and praised him, and quickly gathered my tools and cleaned up the space.  Because I know that being abandoned is a long-held fear of his, I didn’t want to leave him for long, so I kissed him and told him I’d be right back as I carried our things to an adjacent room with a large, soft bed.  The look of bliss on his face was wonderful, and I hurried back to his side.  I guided him to the bed and laid him down next to me, stroking his arms and his head, down to his side and hip.  Then I gently pressed my fingers between his slippery lips to seek out his last few remaining orgasms.  He bucked and writhed under my touch and then curled up against me.  We lay together for awhile as he came out of his blissful fog and then I helped him into his clothes as sub drop started to hit, and we walked out together into the lobby to find some food and let him rest.

I was so proud of my boy right then – of how beautifully he served me and how deliciously he came, his strength and his intelligence and the way he loves to play and push me, and get pushed in return.  I wanted to strut through the crowd and make sure that everyone knew this was MY boy, but I was also keenly aware that I needed to get him some food and a place to sit.  We sat down with a plate of chocolate and popcorn (it was late and the earlier bounty on the table had been thoroughly picked through) and made a little small talk, admiring a case of floggers in front of us, and then we got up to leave.

My boy was hungry now, so we stopped at a Jack in the Box for a very late dinner while the cashier gave us bashful looks when he saw the leash still attached to Kyle’s collar.  I drove him back to the hotel and we ate and then pounced on one another in bed…not to sleep, but to relive the amazing moments we had shared and create a few new ones together.