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An Excerpt From: GOLDEN MAN
By Claire Thompson
Published by Ellorascave.com

 

“Are you ready to truly suffer for me, boy?” Eric took hold of each ring, pulling Johnny’s nipples taut before releasing them.

Johnny, with his arms still raised, hands obediently locked behind his head, licked his lips and took a deep breath. “A specific question, slave, requires a direct answer.” Eric’s voice was firm, his eyes narrowed.

“Yes, Sir,” Johnny said, his slightly trembling voice belied by his very erect cock, a drop of pre-cum glistening at its tip. Eric reached for Johnny’s cock, unable to resist its invitation. He stroked it gently for a moment, moving his hand lightly up and down the hard shaft, using the bit of pre-cum as a lubricant. Johnny moaned, closing his eyes, starting to lower his arms.

Eric dropped his cock, slapping it as he admonished, “Did I tell you to move out of position, slave? That’s going to cost you.” Johnny’s eyes flew open as he hurriedly put his hands back behind his head. Eric knew his arms were probably tired, but he was young and strong and should be able to hold his position a while longer.

Eric grabbed Johnny’s shaven balls in one hand, squeezing until Johnny winced, though he didn’t try to pull away. “You need to be used roughly, don’t you, slave boy? You need what I do to you. While I do it for me, it gets you hot, doesn’t it, you little slut?” Johnny didn’t respond. Eric squeezed harder, pulling Johnny by his balls, forcing him to kneel. Johnny gasped.

“Answer me, boy! You need this, don’t you? You need to be tortured and used because you are a masochistic slut.” Eric released his balls, instead pulling his head back by a handful of thick gold hair.

“Oh Eric,” Johnny said, closing his eyes, his lips parting, a rapturous look on his face. Eric understood. While it might look and sound to an unenlightened casual observer as if Eric were being abusive to his lover, in fact he was feeding his soul, giving him what he’d craved all his life, though he hadn’t known it until he’d fallen into Eric’s arms. Feeling a rush of love, Eric bent down and kissed those parted lips, cradling Johnny’s head as their tongues swirled in a familiar but still delicious dance.

The moment of tenderness passed as Eric stood, his slave still kneeling at his feet. They were in Eric’s playroom, a study he’d converted into a BDSM dungeon. Against the wall stood an antique sideboard filled with “toys” Eric had acquired over the years, including several very fine floggers and whips, leather and metal cuffs, cock rings, dildos, blindfolds and ball gags. Chains dangled from sturdy hooks in the ceiling, clips in place waiting for Johnny’s soft leather cuffs to be secured there. In the center of the room lay a thick, soft sheepskin rug for naked slaves to recover after a torture session.

Eric moved to the sideboard, taking out their newest toys, purchased that weekend in their favorite BDSM sex shop in the Village. “Stand up, slave. I’m going to put your new cock strap in place and secure it to this chain.” He held up a Y chain, the bottom of which would be secured to the leather strap Eric would place snugly at the base of Johnny’s balls. The top two chains had small clamps at each end, ready to compress Johnny’s sensitized, pierced nipples. This was the first time Eric had used the clamps since Johnny had been pierced.

He could see the fear in Johnny’s eyes as he pressed open the little rubber-sheathed alligator clip, moving it over Johnny’s right nipple. Instinctively Johnny stepped back. Eric said softly, “Johnny, do I need to restrain you?”

Slowly Johnny shook his head, moving back toward his master. His cock, forced completely perpendicular by the leather restraint around his balls, was hard as a rock, despite his fear, because of his fear. “Breathe. You can do this. You can take it because you’re doing it for me.” As Eric spoke, he let the clip close down on Johnny’s nipple. Johnny took in a sharp breath, squeezing his eyes closed.

Eric smiled. “Good boy.” He clamped the second nipple. Again the sharp intake of breath but otherwise Johnny remained still. “Time to add some more pictures to your album. You look so hot I’m afraid this room’s going to burst into flames.”

Eric produced a little digital camera and began to snap several pictures of his slave boy, tall and strong with clips on his perfect nipples, the chains dangling at his chest and down his strong, hard abs, drawing the eye to his gorgeous cock looking huge in its leather strap. “You’ll print these later and add them to your album, won’t you, boy?”

Johnny nodded though his expression clouded for a moment. Eric knew he was recalling that horrible night when his parents had let themselves into his efficiency apartment in Brooklyn, only to discover his secret album of photos, photos that depicted him in very compromising submissive poses, suffering for his master, serving his master, leaving no question whatsoever as to his orientation and predilections.

He felt a moment’s regret for having reminded Johnny and to distract him he released the clamps, quickly removing them from Johnny’s nipples. “Oh,” Johnny breathed a low moan of pain as his raw nerve endings were flooded with renewed sensation once freed from the compression of the clamps. Eric detached the Y chain but left the cock strap in place. He permitted Johnny to lower his arms. As he’d expected, Johnny’s hands moved to his tender nipples, smoothing the delicate buds.

Eric returned to the sideboard where he rummaged a moment before finding what he was looking for. He produced two long, thin chains, each of which had a small clip at either end. He returned to his slave, his own cock as hard as Johnny’s. The rush he got from domming his lover was as strong as any drug. It made Eric feel powerful, invincible, immortal.

He knew himself capable of being much rougher than he had so far been with Johnny. Indeed, his usual pattern with submissive boys was to use them until they cried, begging for release, begging for him to stop the whipping, the bondage, the cock and ball torture, the rough ass play. He would always stop of course, but sometimes he took them just this side of dangerous, just this side of sensory overload. Ironically, or perhaps not so if one truly understood the psyche of a sex masochist, these slaves invariably came back for more, becoming so devoted, so dependent on Eric he would soon feel stifled, trapped in a relationship with someone who wanted more than he was capable of giving.

How different it was with Johnny. He had been careful, even tender, telling himself at first it was because Johnny was so new to the scene. If he’d treated Johnny as he treated most sub boys, Johnny would have probably had a heart attack. He wouldn’t have been able to handle the intensity. Indeed, that night at the Cavern had confirmed this.

But it wasn’t merely his novice status that kept Eric gentle for longer than he’d ever been with a sub. It was this new, almost fiercely tender feeling of love inside his heart, a love he’d never experienced for another man. The feeling was frightening but Eric was insightful enough to realize that just because he was afraid, that didn’t make the feelings less real.

Today he would take Johnny further. Johnny had been asking for more, promising he could “take it”, begging to be tried, to be given the chance to “suffer for his master”. He would have that chance today.