Cigar Time, Gentlemen #50

This posting is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY.

It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers.

These are parts of stories that are still being written, its coming right off the paper no re-read. No editing. No checking.

 

NOTE: This story is up on my WIP here, check it out if you like, this is a second skit from a story I’m writing, the first is here

 

A 2,019 word short BDSM skit from

 

Desperate by Bronwyn Heeley

 

 

His boy lay over the wooden bench, his arms over the side, he’s legs dangling off the end, each tied against the legs, spreading him, keeping Thomo were Ben wanted him.

     Ben’s fingers held tight around a the hard leather handle, Ben held onto the flogger, letting the thick straps drape across Thomo’s lower back before he lifted his arm and let it fall down with a well-practiced slap.

     Tome’s moan sounded like it came from his balls as it rumbled out of him, only letting go when Ben had slapped the flogger down three times.

     The tightening and relaxing of Thomo’s body drove Ben on. That trust of hips as he tried to get himself under those slaps, demanding Ben hit in a certain place. Though Ben ignored them, clearly the body wanted but the mind needed unpredictable to get it frustrated, to work itself up to the point when Thomo was actually read, were this whole exercise because relevant and the real rhythm could drive the scene.

     Acid seep into his shoulder and wrist as he lifted and flicked, burning away at his muscle, demanding him use more force, to get more movement so it could drive deeper into his bone and really allow him to feel.

     This was what he needed, what Ben needed more than anything, this amount of control, the power of having another under his leather as he gave what he wanted and took nothing in return.

     This was how he was able to live this hellhole of a life without killing the man who looked at him and thought because of his size that he deserved to be treated just the same. That he was nothing more than a maggoty bottom who would do anything he said just because he couldn’t think of himself. And yeah, there was a lot of them where he was made to live. That’s why it worked, that’s how they became so they could deal themselves. Ben wasn’t that type of person, he wasn’t able to turn it off and sink into the drown of orders and commands with nothing more than a pat on his head that gave him a moment of comfort before he was smashed down onto a bed and fucked within an inch of his life.

     Or worse when he was sold to a master how wanted a boy they could chain up on a wall all day and fuck at night, but who needed something more than the smell of rubber.

     The burn of his arm moving in that same way over and over was what made him feel alive again, the constant movement allowed his brain to remember times once past as if they were his present and future. 

     “Sir,” the words registered but they didn’t stop his arm from moving. Didn’t stop that rosy pink from flaring across Thomo’s skin, the beauty of which Ben couldn’t turn away from.

     After a long moan, Thomo cleared his throat, trying in vain to think around the arousing pain. “Sir, may I be able to know what I’m being published for.”

     Ben’s arm froze in the air, just locked up without him having to think about it. it was also the first time that he looked down at Thomo and really saw him.

     Think red welts rose up across his lower back and arse, two wept slightly, not quite blood but if Ben had hit across the spot another time they would have.

     “I don—I don’t mind, I would just like to know what I’ve done.”

     Hearing the words and seeing the damage he’d done, without any thought to the wellbeing of his sub, Ben let go of the flogger, feeling it hit his own body twice before it landed on the ground.

     His eyebrows were low, and Ben felt this stupid pressure just behind them, he wasn’t sure what to make of it, but seeing the damage he cause made him want to send himself to a corner, giving himself a timeout for bad behaviour. but mostly it meant that he’d let down the one man who had the power and strength to hold out a hand and actually pull him off the ground for more than it took to get off.

     “Sir?”

     Ben was had been backing away, and as the words left Thomo’s mouth, the confusion and hurt had him rushing back, his hand running along the unblemished skin across his shoulders.   

     “Baby, are you okay?” Ben lent forward, his noise brushed his hair, taking in the rich smell of his submissive as his fingers went to the knot at Thomo’s wrists.

     “No!” Thomo nearly screamed as started struggling between the ropes. “Wha--what did I do wrong?” he sounded like he was about to fall apart, like the simple idea that Ben wasn’t please with him was the reason the scene was ending not that Ben had done anything wrong.

     “Shh…” Ben rubbed at the skin around the rope, soft strokes as he light hair on his forearm as he let his face drop into the back of Thomo’s neck. “Shh…” he echoed his head full of tears he wasn’t able to shed, not here, not with Thomo strapped to a table.

     Ben wasn’t sure what he needed to do; he’d never learnt that part of the world, not really, not from this end. Yeah, he’d learnt he’d had to suck up all the fucking pain and live with it. To do what the John’s had wanted and never over, or he’d learn his own, which generally meant he’d end up in a hospital because they thought they could deal with more pain than true.

     He’d never learnt the simple acts of kindness that went when he fucked up so bad his sub should safe word and walk the fuck away from him.

     He’d defiantly never been in the position on wanting to punish his sub as he held him close and told him that he should walk away because what Ben had just done wasn’t consensual. Wasn’t anything but him losing fucking control and that was never a good thing in a Dom welding a flogger.

     “I’m so sorry,” he heard himself mumble into Thomo’s neck. “How can I make it up to you.”

     Thomo coughed out a funny laugh. “There’s nothing to forgive, sir, but if your asking.”

     Ben smiled. “Which I am.” There was no point arguing, Ben didn’t have the strength to do anything but give this beautiful man anything he wanted so that Ben could untie him.

     “Fuck me, sir.”

     “Like this?”

     “’Course, sir.”

     Of course. Because Thomo like nothing else then to be held down and fucked. Hell, if the man had it his way there’s be thick leather, Velcro, he didn’t give two shits, straps across his shoulders and the small of his back, holding him completely still, the only reason they weren’t there was because Thomo had turned the tables and pulled out a flogger.

     Ben sighed, nipped the big man on the neck, kissed his shoulder, and went to the small side table to grab what he needed.

     As Ben undid his pants as he walked, his cock flopping free as the zipper hit home, no undies made life easier when walking into a scene. Fingers gipped the condom packed, teeth tore at the fold before cold slime hit his lips. The condom out of the rapper, Ben slid it down his shaft, letting his fingers and cock head heat the thin latex quickly.

     He was done thinking, it was overrated and never done him any good. He didn’t want to think about the fact that the ting he felt as the leather handle cradled in his palm was a sign that he shouldn’t have been doing it, but the joy of once again being able to weld it had everything else lose focus. all he saw was what he could do—what he use to be, and he wanted that back. He wanted that back so fucking much.

     He’d not thought past that moment. And the fact that Thomo seemed to light up…it hadn’t helped the fantasy.

     Clearing his throat, Ben scooped up the tube of lube, flicking the lid, coating his fingers, his cock, stroking, working himself back up. Ruining everything wasn’t an aphrodisiac.

     Between Thomo’s thighs, looking at those bright, welted, flesh was a sight that’s for sure, and Ben wanted to turn back. he wanted to never have seen what Thomo’s flesh looked like this way, he wanted to run his tongue over the puffy edges, wanted to feel the heat under his fingers as he massaged the sore mounds with cream.

     “Shit,” fucking cream, that’s what he needed to get before he started fucking the poor man.

     “What?” Thomo struggled to look at Ben.

     “Nothing, babe, just give me a minute.” He stroked the firm skin at the top of his thigh, just the burning marks of his arse cheeks.

     It took less time to grab the cream before he was back where he’d started, popping that lid was a little tricker, the bottle less used. Strips of white ran across his lower back, running up to the curve of his ribs, a couple of dots on his rosy cheeks.

     Flipping that lid shut, Ben made sure his fingers were clean before he poured more lube onto his fingers. The cream couldn’t be used internally.

     Gripping on hot arse cheek, Ben carefully pulled it open exposing a dusty hole. The sight made his mouth water. He swallowed hard as his fingers brushed at the muscles; they sucked in before Thomo relaxed.

     Things went quickly from there, fingers sunk deep, quickly, one finger turning to two before the burn could leave Thomo; the pain slut needed that pinch as his hips rocked against the wooden table, not being able to move enough to give him the friction he needed. It was the point after all.

     His cock head pushed in. Ben held his breath at the pleasure as he pushed himself into Thomo, letting the hotness engulf his cock in a way only an arse could.

     He bit out a groan as Thomo’s channel milked him, his muscle trying to allow him in.

     Thomo’s panted breath was music to Ben’s ears. That near whine of pain as he gritted his teeth and tried his hardest to do make his body do something when it begged for a little more time.

     As he settled his hips against the other man’s arse, Ben started to work the cream into his skin, lightly running it against the abused flesh, getting it where it needed to before he pulled his hips out and pushed home.

     Rocky starts where the way when things went this quickly, and Ben took his time, running his hands against Thomo’s flesh, letting his weight push into his body into his hands a little at a time.

     When he was moving in fast slaps, his fingers needed the flesh. Pushing pain against Thomo’s flesh, letting the man sink into the mind space he needed to enjoy this session to the fullest, even if Ben felt like he wanted to vomit at the fact that they were there to use.

     Ben’s body tightened, sparks flew around his nerves as his mind started to narrow down, only wanting one thing, and that was barrelling down faster than he expected.

     “Come,” he grunted out, nearly spitting the words into the air as he pushed his fingers into one of the hasher abrasions on the top of his arse.

     Thomo screamed, his shoulder tried to through themselves back as his back wanted to bow into the pleasure.

     Muscles gript tight at Ben, trying to pull him in, push him out, the pleasure to much, not enough, wanting, want, want, want.

     Ben grunted as his slammed in deep one last time before letting himself go, losing all sense of everything as the crash smothered him in heat, pleasure, happiness. He’d never felt that rightness, that total and complete loss of himself, and of where he was with anyone but Thomo.