The soft, deliberate stroke of Jason’s thumb was a paradox—a comforting anchor in a sea of dizzying sensation. Dick’s breath hitched, a ragged sound that was swallowed by the low hum of the streaming equipment. His body was a live wire, every nerve ending screaming for the contact it was being denied.
“Show them,” Jason had whispered, and the command echoed in the hollows of Dick’s mind.
But Jason didn’t press down. Instead, the pressure vanished. The absence was a shock, a fresh wave of humiliation. A soft, frustrated groan escaped Dick’s lips before he could stop it. The chat on the monitor to his right exploded in a frenzy of new comments, a waterfall of digital desire he couldn’t look away from.
A low, dark chuckle vibrated against his stomach. Jason’s head descended, his masked face a shadow moving over Dick’s flushed skin. The cool air of the warehouse was a stark contrast to the searing heat of Jason’s mouth as it traveled south. His tongue, slick and unbearably hot, traced the defined line of Dick’s abs. It was a slow, torturous exploration, mapping every ridge and dip, slicking a path through a faint sheen of sweat.
Each lick was a brand. Each one sent a jolt straight to his core, his hips giving an involuntary, tiny thrust against the empty air, a silent plea for more. Jason’s hands, still clad in that infuriatingly soft leather, splayed across Dick’s hips, holding him down with an effortless strength that made Dick feel utterly, completely powerless.
The mouth traveled lower, past his navel, the heat hovering just above the straining fabric of his briefs. Dick held his breath, his entire being focused on that point of impending contact.
It never came.
Jason shifted his weight with a predator’s grace, his movements deliberate and unhurried, as if savoring every second of Dick’s vulnerability. He knelt at the edge of the table, his gloved hands sliding down the length of Dick’s leg to grip the first boot. The leather creaked softly as Jason’s fingers worked the laces with a practiced efficiency that spoke of years of experience—both as Red Hood and as someone who knew Dick’s gear intimately. The lace slipped free, and Jason tugged the boot off with a slow, almost ceremonial motion, letting it drop to the concrete floor with a heavy thud. The sound echoed in the cavernous space, making Dick flinch, his pulse quickening at the stark finality of it.
The second boot followed suit, Jason’s hands lingering just a moment too long on Dick’s ankle before the leather slid away entirely. The cool air of the warehouse brushed against Dick’s bare feet, an unexpected and oddly intimate exposure that sent a shiver racing up his spine. Jason didn’t miss a beat. He grasped one of Dick’s ankles firmly, his grip both possessive and unyielding, and lifted it toward the camera with a flourish. The pale sole of Dick’s foot was now fully on display, every arch and curve illuminated by the harsh studio lights.
“Look at this,” Jason purred, his voice dripping with a mix of mockery and dark admiration. “A hero’s foundation. So often overlooked, so vulnerable.” He turned Dick’s foot slightly, angling it for the camera, as if inspecting a prized possession. The lenses zoomed in, capturing every detail—the faint scar along the heel, the faint dusting of hair, the way Dick’s toes twitched involuntarily under the scrutiny. The chat exploded with reactions, a rapid-fire cascade of comments flooding the screen.
Jason’s other hand rose, a single gloved finger tracing the sensitive sole of Dick’s foot in a slow, deliberate line. Dick jerked instinctively, a choked laugh escaping him despite his best efforts to remain stoic. It was ticklish, absurdly so, and yet the sensation cut straight through the haze of humiliation and arousal that had already taken hold. Jason tightened his grip, preventing Dick from pulling away, and leaned in closer, his breath warm against the arch of Dick’s foot.
For a moment, it seemed as though Jason might say something, but instead, he acted. His tongue darted out, swiping a slow, wet stripe along the pad of Dick’s big toe. Dick gasped, his back arching off the table as a mix of embarrassment and pleasure surged through him. The neural stimulant amplified the sensation, blurring the lines between degradation and desire until Dick could barely think straight. Jason chuckled darkly, his masked face tilted up to meet Dick’s gaze for just a moment before he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the arch of Dick’s foot.
The act was so intimate, so deliberately humiliating, that Dick felt his cheeks burn even hotter. But there was no escaping it—not with Jason’s firm grip holding him in place and the camera capturing every second. The audience was eating it up, their comments growing increasingly explicit as they devoured the spectacle. Jason, ever the showman, made sure to angle Dick’s foot just right, ensuring the cameras caught every detail of his submission. And through it all, Dick could feel the heat of Jason’s own arousal pressing against his bare sole, a silent reminder that this was far from one-sided.
Jason’s lips descended again, this time with a slow, deliberate reverence that sent a shiver up Dick’s spine. He pressed a lingering kiss to the arch of his foot, his tongue darting out to trace the sensitive curve with unhurried precision. The warmth of Jason’s breath and the slick heat of his mouth were almost unbearable, and Dick couldn’t suppress the tremor that ran through him.
“Beautiful,” Jason murmured, his voice low and reverent, as if he were worshipping at an altar. His gloved hand cradled Dick’s foot with an odd tenderness, his thumb brushing over the delicate bones as if memorizing their shape. He pressed another kiss, this time to the ball of Dick’s foot, his tongue swirling in a slow, maddening circle that made Dick’s toes curl involuntarily.
The chat exploded with commentary, but Jason paid it no mind. His focus was entirely on Dick, on the way his breath hitched and his body trembled under the relentless attention. He moved lower, his lips grazing the heel, and then his teeth nipped lightly at the sensitive skin there. Dick let out a strangled gasp, his back arching off the table as electricity shot through him.
Jason chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against Dick’s skin. “You’re so sensitive,” he purred, his voice dripping with both mockery and admiration. He dragged his tongue along the length of Dick’s sole, exploring every inch with a deliberate slowness that bordered on torture. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of ticklishness and arousal that left Dick squirming helplessly.
“Look at him,” Jason said, his gaze flicking briefly to the camera, his voice laced with amusement. “Our golden boy, brought to his knees by nothing more than a little attention to his feet.” He wrapped his lips around Dick’s big toe and began to gently suck it.
The act was absurd, humiliating, and yet Dick couldn’t deny the heat coiling in his gut, the way his body responded to every touch, his cock growing harder and twitching each time Jason sucked another toe. Jason’s worship was both degrading and intoxicating, a paradox that left Dick teetering on the edge of something he couldn’t quite name.
“That’s it,” Jason murmured, his voice a low, hypnotic purr. “Let them see how much you love this.” He kissed the sole of Dick’s foot one last time, his lips warm and possessive, before moving up to reclaim his place above him.
A strangled sound, half-gasp, half-moan, was torn from Dick’s throat. His back arched off the table. It was absurd. It was degrading. It sent a pulse of white-hot electricity straight up his spine. The neural stimulant amplified it all, blurring the lines between humiliation and arousal until they were the same frantic, throbbing need.
“He’s so responsive,” Jason murmured to the audience, never taking his eyes off Dick’s face. He brought the sole of Dick’s foot to his own face, nuzzling against it for a moment before pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the arch. The leather of his pants creaked as he shifted, and then he was guiding Dick’s foot lower, pressing the bare sole firmly against the prominent bulge in his own leather-clad crotch.
The heat there was immense, a hard, demanding pressure. Dick could feel the rigid outline of him, and the reality of Jason’s own arousal, hidden beneath the villain’s facade, sent a new wave of dizzying heat through Dick. He rubbed his foot against Jason slowly, a tentative, experimental movement that was all his own, beyond any staged protest.
The chat scrolled faster. The number of viewers ticked up. Another wave of likes washed across the screen.
Jason groaned, a low, deep, and utterly genuine sound that seemed to surprise even him. His eyes, visible behind the red mask, darkened. The theatrical villainy slipped for a fraction of a second, and Dick saw only Jason—raw, intense, and teetering on the edge of his own control.
“They see it, don’t they, pretty bird?” Jason’s voice was rough, stripped of its performative edge. He moved Dick’s foot away, his grip almost tender for a moment before he released him. He crawled back up the table, his body hovering over Dick’s, caging him in. The scent of leather and Jason’s unique, spicy sweat filled Dick’s senses.
“They see how much you love this. How every touch, every comment, every single pair of eyes on you… it just makes you burn.”
His gloved hand returned to its previous position, but this time it didn’t hover. It settled over the fabric, the heel of his palm applying a firm, perfect pressure directly onto Dick’s erection.
Dick cried out, his head thrashing back against the table. It was too much. It wasn’t enough. The world dissolved into a haze of sensation and the glowing red light of the camera.
“I think,” Jason whispered, his lips brushing the shell of Dick’s ear, his voice for them alone, “it’s time we gave them a real show.”
The Cock turned to the audience and asked. “Don’t you?”
