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He’s silent as he concentrates. It doesn’t take long for my smart boy to figure it out. “Is it a buttplug?”
“Hmm.” I lube it up before pressing it firmly against his opening but not inside. Not yet. “I don’t know, is it?”
He chuckles which soon turns into a groan as I press it ever so slowly inside. “That would be a yes,” he gasps. “A rather big one.”
I smirk devilishly because he’s right. It’s the biggest one I could find that I didn’t think would rip him open.
“Oh fuck,” he gasps.
My smirk grows as I carefully work it deeper. To give him a little relief, I cradle his balls, squeezing and tugging. His rock hard length is hanging down pulsing long strings of precum. After I have the plug fully seated, I give his cock a long pull but promptly stop.
He screams out. “Please, sir, you’re killing me.”
“The night is young, little boy, so you better buck up.”
He groans in frustration, and I chuckle as I wander over to the wall where all my toys of mass destruction are hanging. I let my fingers wander over the variety of paddles I’ve collected over the years. Wood, leather, and plastic. Some have holes, others have studs in a wide variety of sizes. I settled on a leather, eighteen-inch tawse with a braided handle. The leather folds over itself so it closely resembles a folded belt.
To let him feel what’s in store for him, I run the looser folds of leather over his sides, his back, and ass, down his leanly muscled legs and back up before I raise the tawse. I gently rain down smacks until his backside and thighs are flushed the prettiest red.
I make my swings a bit higher, harder, faster until a litany of moans and groans begin.
“Doing alright, boy?”
He manages to form the word ‘yes,’ so I up the ante a bit more. Before I know it he's taking my heavy hand just like I knew he would. I’m not trying to bring him to the edge tonight, so once we’ve reached the screaming phase, I lighten up, slowing down to a standstill before I begin to rub him down.
“Such a good boy.” I coo. “You take everything I have to give so beautifully. You were made just for me weren’t you, baby?”
“Yes,” he moans. “Only you.”
“That’s right, all mine.”
In reward, I start tugging on his dick. He’s already pleading desperately to come.
“Not until I say you can.”
Let the sobbing commence.
By the time I’ve decided he’s had enough, he’s a shaking, snotty mess as tears soak his face and the bench beneath him.
As I begin to work the plug free, he turns to me blindly. “Are you going to fuck me?” He’s pleading, and I love it.
“I am.”
“Oh, thank you, sir. Thank you so much.”
“That doesn’t mean you can come.”
He screams in desperation, and I laugh.
I don’t ease him into a good hard fuck. I take him hard and fast, racing to my own completion. His cock is so swollen and red, it closely resembles his desperate face. But I ignore it as I slam home one last time and fill him with all my cum.
I pull free, and he’s sobbing uncontrollably, so his words don’t make sense.
I take my time as I free each of his restraints before I finally pull his blindfold free. I wrap my hands around his quivering cheeks and peck sweet kisses all over his face before pressing my lips to his.
“Do you want to come?”
He cries out, only managing to nod his head.
