Work and Play - 1. Chapter 1

The elevator dinged softly as it reached the 22nd floor. The only thoughts in my mind were of what I was about to do… who I was about to do. Who I was, in fact, doing before being called to an emergency meeting which had basically nothing to do with me and I would have skipped if my colleague had not insisted my input was valuable, the old suck-up.

I opened the door to the apartment quietly, before I remembered the precautions I had taken and threw the keys into the bowl on the shoe-rack and toed of my foot-wear. The closer I got to my target, the more excited I was getting, my dick hardening in my pants until it almost hurt with delicious anticipation when it was finally freed. Sounds of a body readjusting came to my ears before I rounded the corner to the play-room, the creaking of leather fairly loud in the otherwise silent apartment.

Did I tell him not to do that, I wondered idly as I finally reached the person… the object… I had been dreaming of for the last 3 hours. In the middle of the room stood a bench, its surface covered by padded leather. On top of it knelt a beautiful man. He was big, with broad shoulders and that perfect V-shaped body I so admired in professional athletes. His butt consisted of two amazingly full melons, lightly dusted with dark hairs, getting thicker as it neared the crack. The man was leaning forward, with his hands bound to the ceiling behind his back, muscles flexing to accommodate the uncomfortable position. Given the chance, I was sure he would have leaned forward to relieve his arms and shoulders from the strain, but his balls were bound to a hook in the floor, the rope encircling them twice before vanishing out of sight over the edge of the bench. Though from where I was standing I could only see his backside, the beautiful, hairy hole on full display, I knew the front was just as delectable with those muscly pecks, eight pack and that breathtaking 7 inch dick, which I knew would be rock hard and dripping. All in all, it was an amazing display of masculine virility, huge, hairy, powerful and yet completely under my control, awaiting me and my instructions hungrily.

I circled the bound man until I was standing right in front of him, completely unconcerned with him noticing me. His eyes were blindfolded with a piece of silky cloth and his ears covered with noise-cancelling headphones. I reveled in the knowledge of him being completely unaware of my presence, though he knew I would be returning before too long. For a moment I simply stood, deliberated, admired.

Standing at his side I placed just the tip of my pointer finger on the middle of his upper back, right between his shoulder blades. The singular, soft sensation, heightened by the loss of his other senses made the man gasp. He arched his back, following my trailing finger as though his spine were made of steel and my finger a powerful magnet, the discomfort in his shoulders becoming stronger and stronger the more he leaned back.

My finger reached his center.

The man moaned with pleasure and pain, the mixture a delicious cocktail that made him writhe as his body was unable to decide if it liked or hated the treatment it was receiving. His dick twitched. I played with his hole, tickling the hairs, nudging the ring of muscle with the tip of my finger. He leaned back, seeking more, needing more stimulation than I was providing. I scraped my finger nail down the whole length of the crack between his cheeks and he leaned back even farther, his arms stretching more and more and he winced with the pain of it as he chased my finger with his hole, his wish to take it in, for my finger, my dick, anything, to fill him overpowering the pain.

"Please, Sir, please, please."

His voice was hoarse and the words came as a choked off gasp. Quiet as they were, they still rang in the room. My other hand, idle so far, grabbed his stretched nut sack and gave it a squeeze in punishment, producing a strangled groan. It was only a soft reminder of my previous command to be quiet, far laxer than I usually was with him, but the circumstances were special. After all, the bound man's last orgasm had been almost three weeks ago. This scene was supposed to have ended hours ago, but I was unexpectedly called in to work. I had given him an offer, reschedule the finale of this scene or be tied up until I returned from work, whenever that may be. At that point he had already been edged for two hours and I knew he was little more than a bundle of horny need to cum. He had given the anticipated answer.

I lubed up my finger and returned it to its playground, tickling and rubbing against the hairy hole.

"Uuuhhhnnngg" was the wordless response as I finally slipped the finger in to the first knuckle. I moved it back and forth only a fraction of an inch, horribly slowly, but even that little stimulation evoked enthusiastic responses as his breathing sped up. My other hand began tapping his nuts softly, rhythmically and the man began rocking back and forth slightly putting more pressure in his balls and releasing it again. I moved my finger to the speed of the rocking motion, making it effectively stationary in its new, soft home. The man moaned in frustration and I heard his forehead smack the leather of the bench, and I knew my message was received.

Don't move. Feel. Receive what I give and no more. My finger continued to move, in and out, going in just a little deeper with every thrust. I flicked his nuts with my other hand.

"AAAAAAAAARRRRRRGHHHHHHHHH" he screamed and threw his head back. The hand that had flicked his tightly bound balls ripped the headphones off his head and let them fall to the floor before resuming its tight grip on the man's testicles. The finger fucking the man's ass was moving more and more quickly, going in as far as it would reach then backing almost all the way out.

"Don't cum,"

I whispered in his ear. I wasn't sure if he had heard me, but I squeezed his nuts anyway, harder than before and slipped in a second finger. The man moaned deeply and I knew the only thing that stopped him from shooting his load right that instant was my words. My lubed fingers made a light squelching noise every time they entered him, giving the fucking an audible rhythm. Sweat beaded on the muscular back, collecting in the dimples right above his butt and running down his face and nose.

"Don't cum."

I swatted his sack with the flat of my hand and started tickling his prostate, aiming for it with every instroke, putting pressure on it with just the tips of my fingers even while his balls swung slightly despite being tied tightly. He was getting even louder, something I hadn't thought possible, as he groaned and moaned and wordlessly begged me to let him cum.

"Don't cum."

I was smacking his balls now, regularly drawing gasps with every single time my hand connected. The tickling on his prostate increased, becoming an incessant push, tapping and punching at it just as I was punching his balls. His dick dripped, the puddle under it huge and running down the sides of the bench in clear streams, joined here and there by his sweat. Leaning in close I breathed in his ear and felt the quivering and quaking of his muscles on the fingers in his ass.

I stood on the bench, lubed my dick with practiced motions and bend my knees so my dick was right at his tight entrance. One foot at his flank and one between his legs, I leaned forward until my mouth was right at his ear.

"Cum for me."

I bit his earlobe, squeezed his balls and pushed forward with my hips, using the angle I had long since committed to muscle memory to hit his prostate. The dam broke as he gave up fighting his climax, and he came again and again, muscles flexing, his head thrown back as a wordless scream accompanied the release. His cock was flailing wildly, shooting cum all over the bench and his torso in thick, rich streams, the splats audible even over the man's screams of rapture. His face was a contorted mask of pure joy and the release was so intense it seemed to be overloading every synapse in his brain as he struggled against his bonds, not because he wanted out of them but because he needed to feel them, needed to feel their security in this moment of absolute bliss. My own orgasm hit me like a freight train, completely unexpected in its intensity and I unloaded into his tight, muscular hole.

My movements slowed gradually, the tapping on his balls and prostate a guide for him, letting him ride the wave of emotion and pleasure to its end in full. After at least a minute, I pulled out and with a single press of a button his arms were release. He fell forward face first, but I caught him in my arms before his head had a chance to collide with the bench. My arms surrounded his chest, pulling him into me as I release the knot at the back of his head holding the blindfold in place. The inside was soaked with tears and even now some escaped his closed eye-lids as he reentered his shaking body. How I do not know, but I managed to guide the man almost twice my weight to the bed in the corner of the room and laid down beside him, pulling his head down on my chest. I continued making soft 'shhh' sounds, rocking back and forth and rubbing circles on his back until he finally started calming down, until the deep sobs became soft sniffles and even those quieted. His thick beard was rubbing on my chest and he clung to me as one would a life line. The release had been intense, more so than anything else we had ever achieved together in one of our sessions and I was momentarily worried I had driven him to far, scared him. True, he hadn't used his safe word, until I had confirmation my worries persisted.

"Are you okay, Mark?" I asked my husband, turning my head down to look at him. He looked absolutely exhausted, his hair matted with sweat, eyes closed, breathing deeply. His mouth was formed into a serene smile.

It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

He tried propping himself up on his elbow, but it seemed his muscles weren't quite reconnected to his brain yet and he ended up falling face first into the crook of my neck with a slight chuckle.

"Damien, this… I…" he seemed to be struggling for words. I waited patiently while he took a deep breath, formulating his reply. "This was the single most amazing thing I have ever felt and I wouldn’t change a single thing." He looked me in the eye. "I love you, Damien."

"I love you, too, Mark," I replied, my heart soaring at the depth of emotion I saw in his eyes.

After a single kiss, we fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Thank you very much for reading! This was my first attempt at writing anything BDSM related, so please let me know how I did. I hope you enjoyed it.