Twisted v2.0

The Dominant

Bart knew eyes followed his every move. They watched him sitting at his desk reading a dystopian novel. They followed him when he went to the bathroom or stood at the window to see what the noise was about down in the Commons. He knew why they followed him. Knew they had a pleading nature about them. A need he wasn’t ready to fulfill, not yet. He glanced in the mirror and saw them looking at him now. It had been only a couple of months since he had found Quentin. Eleven weeks since their first encounter. There was so much left to learn about the boy. So much to understand about his nature, what he wanted. What he would endure.

Quentin lay on the bed, naked, wrist and ankles bound and pulled behind him, secured together. The little quick links at the home improvement store proved to be a find. For the last two weeks on campus, when the room was his alone, the roommate staying with his girlfriend, Bart let Quentin stay, with the condition he remain naked, except for the cuffs on each wrist and ankle. And Quentin submitted to his request, smiled when told of the condition. Bart knew Quentin would too. Knew the boy would submit to him in ways he was still figuring out.

Most of the time he let Quentin crawl around the room free. He liked to watch him move across the floor on hands and knees, his round ass so inviting he had fucked it till his cock felt raw. Quentin put his shoes on for him, made his bed, folded his laundry, ironing his best shirts and khakis. He cleaned the bathroom shared with the adjacent room. Bill barged in on him once, standing naked in the shower scrubbing the tile walls forcing Quentin to bullshit him, tell him he didn’t want his clothes to get wet, that he was going to shower off when finished. But neither Quentin nor Bart explained why a freshman boy was cleaning the shower in the first place. There were some things Bart didn’t know how to explain away. Wasn’t sure he wanted to. At times he considered letting Bill and Rick see more. Tempted to leave the bathroom door unlocked on their side, maybe even cracked open, letting them see Quentin submit to him. See Quentin get spanked, tied to the bunkbed and flogged, or held down and fucked. There was something enticing about not only playing his role in this scenario, but of letting others in on it, to let them know this relationship that was developing between Quentin and him. The nature of it taboo for so many, or at least it was how they pretended.

Standing by the bed he saw his last load drying on Quentin’s face where he smeared it over his cheeks and mouth; that is the cum Quentin didn’t swallow. He saw the red glow of the firm round ass cheek and thought about what caused Quentin to be in this position. That moment of frustration, having not been allowed to cum for two days, his cock sticking out hard and dripping. He had denied him again, wanting him to stay on the edge of arousal. It made him so much more submissive, so pliant, malleable to his desires. But Quentin let it get to him and he smarted off. As soon as he had done it Bart saw how quickly Quentin realized it. Bart had sat in his chair and just looked at Quentin, waiting for him to get into position.

Quentin had known what was expected, what he must do to make amends. Bart watched him come to his side and lay over his lap, ass up for this punishment. Even now nearly an hour later he still felt a tingling in his hand where he had spanked him. He remembered how those ass cheeks quickly glowed red and the skin felt hot to the touch. And Quentin, silently sobbing from the pain but not once saying no or stop or the safe word.

When Quentin had stood, once again he was hard, his cock drooling from his aroused state. Bart had him get on the bed and secured the cuffs together, clipping the wrists, then ankles and finally, pulling legs up and arms back and down he clipped the two together. It had aroused him, made him feel his own weakness, this need for Quentin to pleasure him and he took his cock out and made Quentin suck him off.

In the silence of the room he glanced at Quentin again and felt like he knew him, knew what drove him to be submissive. It was the mirror of his desire for control, to be dominant in their roles. As much as he needed Quentin’s submission, he knew Quentin needed his dominance.

A soft knock at the door and Bart wondered who it could be. He knew he couldn’t let it be known what Quentin and he did within his room. It was one thing for rumors to swirl around the floor, for guys to ask insinuating questions. It was another to admit it. He eased the door open a couple of inches and saw it was Shelley, the one person who knew the score.

“What’s up?”

“I was…just wondering if Quentin and you wanted to go for pizza later?”

Bart struggled not smile, knowing how Shelley tried to keep up this portrayal of innocence. Bart knew he was jealous and hinted at his willingness to join them. It was something he had no desire to happen. There had been several conversations with Shelley, encouragement for him to find someone, to look online or go to the gay bar in town on a Monday night when they had Master and Slave night. He knew it was lame, mostly the curious coming out to see those posing. But he didn’t know what else to suggest. Shelley needed to find his own way, one that wasn’t with Quentin and him.

“Can I come in?” Shelley asked and Bart knew it was mistake.  A huge fucking mistake but he eased the door open and let him pass, closing and locking it behind him.

Shelley moved into the room and froze, surprised to see Quentin bound and naked. And from the look on Quentin’s face, he was surprised Bart let him into the room.

“Shelley wants to go get pizza later. You want to go?” Bart asked as he passed Shelley and sat back in his chair.

“I…huh…yeah, I guess so” Quentin replied, his tone showing his confusion at what Bart was up to.

“Good. What time do you want us to come by your room?” Bart asked Shelley.

“Stop…by…6?” Shelley stammered; his eyes still locked on Quentin.

“Okay then, we’ll see you then” Bart replied, getting up and heading to the door to let him out.

Shelley backed toward the door and when he was close to Bart he whispered in a low voice; ”what did he do?”

“What do you mean?”

“His ass is red. What did he do?”

“Don’t worry about it, Shelley. We’ll see you in a few hours” Bart replied as he unlocked the door.

Shelley gone, Bart suddenly felt aroused. Shelley looking at Quentin with jealously did something to him. He shouldn’t have done it but now he wanted Quentin. Wanted to fuck him again.

The bunk beds were made of wood, and under the upper bunk screwed in the side frames were eyehooks. There were more than needed for Bart had experimented with their locations working out which worked best. Which ones held Quentin’s legs up just right. Which ones held his arms pulled up out of the way. He undid the links securing wrists and ankles together and made Quentin move around perpendicular on the bed. Quentin knew the position required of him and he lay on his back and held up his legs. Soon the legs were pulled apart, each ankle secured to the upper bunk frame. Quentin held up his arms, the wrist still secured together, letting Bart hook them to a hook in the middle. He lay spread out, his ass completely open for Bart.

Bart looked at the prone boy, his boy, and wondered how long he could keep him. How long before Quentin wanted something else. He tried not to think of it, but he couldn’t stop wondering if he was the one. The one that fed Quentin’s desires, pushed him to the edge, made the pain mix with pleasure till he begged for release.

The Submissive

Quentin hadn’t had clothes on since Friday afternoon. Nakedness had become routine, always available to Bart. His body available for Bart’s pleasure. The expectation to be ready when Bart was aroused or needed to remind him who was in control, and who wasn’t. Letting Shelley in the room spooked him but it did something else too. He knew Shelley was jealous, could see it in his face every time they crossed paths, and in the two shorts weeks since arriving on campus it was amazing how often that had been. It also made him aroused and he saw the look on Shelley’s face when his cock had started to grow erect. It didn’t take much since Bart had not let him come in two days, but he had not wanted to reveal this aspect of himself to Shelley. Maybe it wasn’t Shelley he did it for. Bart was there, watching their reaction, and he displayed his by growing erect.

Now he felt his nakedness in a different way. Trussed up, spread for Bart’s pleasure, he felt his submission. He no longer felt shy about revealing himself to Bart, No longer hesitated to remove his clothes, or like now, to let Bart spread his legs opening his ass to him. Nothing was off-limits, no part of him. He no longer thought of his body as something that could be gross or not appealing. He felt wanted. Every part of him.

Quentin wondered how far Bart would want to go before he had to shower and put clothes back on. Bart was removing his t-shirt, then the cargo shorts and finally the boxers revealing his own aroused state. Before Bart even moved to him, he sensed what was to come. The way Bart liked to grip his legs, fingers tight around the ankles or at the back of each knee. His cock flexed in anticipation of Bart’s cock touching him, pushing against his hole. He could take it easily now, and he kept his head held up so he could watch Bart approach him stroking cock to full erection.

“You want this?” Bart asked in a taunt that frustrated him, made him worry this was all a tease, that Bart would leave him like this till time to get ready.

“Yes.”

His voice was pleading in tone. Yes, he wanted it. He wanted it all the time. Watching Bart move closer he waited impatiently for the touch. The moment Bart’s cock would touch his opening, push against it, breach its tightness and penetrate him. He wanted it so bad his cock flexed with arousal.

He felt the push, then his hole stretching open. He shuddered as he stretched to take it, first the head, then inch after inch of the shaft. He felt Bart press against his ass and knew he had all of it, every inch. Bart took each of his legs by the calf and held him tightly as he felt cock began to piston within him. Bart’s pace increased quickly, hammering cock into his hole and he wanted to cry out. He wanted others to know what they were doing, how Bart was using him, fucking him. How he took each deep penetration and wanted more.

Bart fucked to cum, a rapid rough pace, that all too soon ended, shoved in all the way, unloading into the depths of his hole.

He just knew Bart was going to leave him hard, unsatisfied once again. But Bart released one wrist, stepped back to his chair and sat. For a moment he wasn’t sure Bart was going to let him. Leaning forward, one elbow on a knee, Bart looked at him with satisfaction.

“Do it, jack off for me” Bart uttered.

With Bart watching and the feel of cum trickling down his ass, Quentin took his cock in hand and began to jack off. He stroked slowly at first, savoring the feel of it, the build up of his arousal. Bart watching made it more intense. But he wanted to cum so bad, he felt desperate in his need for release. He’d been pent-up for two days, giving Bart the pleasures demanded of him while he was continually denied the release he craved.

His hand grew slick and he stroked faster. His cock flexed, thickened in his grasp and he felt the tingling sensation all the way up his spine. He arched his back, struggled against his bounds, pumped with his hips as best he could, while his hand became a blur, stroking faster and faster. He felt his imminent release. His entire body rigid with its approach. He jerked and shoved upward through his fist as it slammed down. Then he felt it, the warm wads of cum, hitting him in the face, under the chin and raining down on his chest and stomach. It left him breathless. He stroked is spurting cock till finally spent and he too sensitive to continue.

Bart came to him, ran a finger over his cheek and lips raking up the cum, then lay it over his lips. He parted them, taking the wet finger, sucking his cum from it. Bart gave him a soft, simple smile then undid the cuffs freeing him from them for the first time since that morning.

“Let’s get cleaned up. Shelley will be waiting on us.”

The showers after their sex were nearly as pleasurable. Quentin loved the intimacy of the two of them in the small shower, soapy hands roaming over the other; across chests and stomachs, down backs and over ass cheeks. Fingers raking down between them and holding flaccid cocks till they began to thicken and elongate. They kissed, Bart pushing him against the wall, bodies pressed together. It was different from their sex, with its bondage, the control by one over the other, mixing pain and pleasure till both sated. This was sharing in that sated state.

He didn’t understand it, this desire to please Bart, to submit himself to him the way he did, but he didn’t care. It wasn’t for him to understand it, to know the why behind it. He only knew what he wanted, and in turn what Bart wanted, and their shared goals from the different sides of their roles.

Forty-five minutes later Bart and he were at Shelley’s door. He saw the looks by the other guys as they walked down the corridor. Knowing looks, that they knew what those sounds coming from Bart’s room were all about. The muffled cries, the sounds he knew to be leather or a hand against skin. The sound of his voice, unintelligible in the corridor or the adjacent rooms, but the tone of it was obvious, and he knew the guys held their suspicions in check, almost afraid to have the truth confirmed. The guys seemed even more confused by Shelley’s friendliness with them. Did they see his expressions, the longing so evident on his face when he saw them together?

The pizza parlor was near campus in an old gas station from the fifties. The service bays the dining room, the lobby the waiting area and the place to see the pies being prepared, then slipped in the wood fired oven. Outside under the canopy where gas pumps once resided was the outdoor seating area, where the boys found themselves sharing a pizza. It wasn’t like in the dorm, where all the others knew them, and knew something was going on. They were anonymous here, just three more guys who were students out for dinner.

“The guys on the floor are really curious about what is going on with the two of you” said Shelley as he reached for his drink.

“You tell them anything?” asked Bart reaching for another slice.

“Hell no; I’m not saying a word.”

Quentin wasn’t surprised by the conversation. How could they not be curious?  A freshman spending so much time in a sophomore’s room, and both guys at that. A part of him was nervous about it, felt an anxiousness from the stares every time he walked down that corridor to Bart’s room. But another part, the part that liked being tied up, the part that liked being flogged or spanked, then fucked till Bart acquired the pleasure he sought, found it enticing. He almost wished Bart told them what was happening, confirmed their suspicions. A part of him wanted them to know he was a submissive person, one who liked to be controlled. He liked giving Bart the pleasures he wanted.

“What about you?” Quentin asked and Shelley knew what he meant.

“I don’t know. I’ve looked around, checked online, if you know what I mean, but here on campus, it seems…” Shelley stopped, unsure how to say it, but Quentin could guess. Everyone was experimenting with sex and no one seemed to know what they truly liked, what really drove their desires, and for someone like Shelley…like himself, finding someone like Bart was damn near impossible.

“You’re having trouble finding someone who can play the role?” asked Bart.

“Yes.”

“The bar on the other side of town has specials on Wednesday and Thursday nights and they let underage in. Why don’t we go one night, the three of us and check it out” said Quentin, wondering if Shelley went to one of the gay bars, he might have better luck in meeting someone. It was something Bart had already suggested, and if they went with him it might make it easier for Shelley. He knew it was a long shot, if he was having trouble with the hookup sites online, but sitting across from him, seeing the loneliness evident in his face, he wanted to do something, and if nothing else, Bart and he could be the friends he needed and hang out with him.

“You mean Blue?”

“Yes. You want to go one night?” Quentin asked.

Blue was a small neighborhood bar on Garden Street. Wedged between a print shop and a consignment shop catering the most alternative of patrons, the bar was the oldest gay bar in town. Many of time some students mistakenly thought it must be a jazz bar, only to learn of their error as soon as they took one step inside the door. It didn’t cater to any particular group, didn’t have special entertainment or theme nights. It was simply a bar.

“You guys would really go with me?”

“Sure, Shelley, we would go out with you. What are friends for?” asked Bart, realizing Shelley had been isolating himself too much, let his loneliness get the best of him.

“How about Wednesday night? Thursday isn’t as tough with our class schedules and I think more go out on Wednesday than on Thursday.”

“Sounds good. We can grab a late dinner and go out to the bar” Bart replied.

Quentin saw the change in Shelley’s expression. A smile and a relaxed posture. He had not realized how pent-up Shelley had been till now. He glanced over at Bart and they smiled at each other, both knowing what they had done for him.

After they finished, check paid, the three of them walked back toward campus. They talked at times then walked a block or more in silence. Back on campus, nearing the dorm Quentin told Shelley good night and pulled Bart to the side.

“I’ll see you later, okay?”

“You’re not staying tonight?”

“I’ve got a paper to finish and with classes in the morning…”

“Quentin, it’s okay. Go finish your assignments. I’ll see you later. In fact, I think I have two chapters to read before going to bed, so we both should hit the books.”

The door to the bar was lit by one lonely fixture mounted directly over the door. The sign, painted on the wood panel that filled in a previous storefront, was barely illuminated by the same light and the streetlight across the street. No one stood outside, like at some of the other bars where students huddled up before going in, some smoking cigarettes. As the three of them, Shelley, Bart and Quentin approached the bar they could hear the faint sound of music, and the closer they got, they could begin to hear voices, muffled by the wall but distinctly male voices.

Bart and Quentin entered first, the door held open by Shelley. It wasn’t as dark as they imagined, the bar lit from fixtures suspended from overhead, the pool tables along the far wall had a light fixture centered on them, each an advertisement for beer. With the bar on one side and the pool tables along the other, there was much space left in the middle. One row of tables, most with four chairs filled this central space. It was nine o’clock on a Wednesday night and the bar stools were full, with some standing around those seated, both pool tables had a game in progress, with four or five watching those at play, and three of the five tables were occupied.

Quentin followed Bart and Shelley who were walking side by side, Shelley asking Bart what he wanted to drink, water or a soda. None of them were old enough to drink and he had already told Shelley to get him a coke. Bart moved to an empty table, the second one from the door while Shelley went to the bar. Quentin sat where he could watch the bar. He wanted to see how the guys around it reacted to Shelley. See which ones showed an interest.

Shelley was attractive. With thick hair that looked good even messed up and needing a cut and his fair skin that gave him rosy cheeks, especially when embarrassed. He looked so naïve with his boyish looks. Quentin knew from listening to Bart, that there would be a lot of guys wanting Shelley. Wanting this perceived innocence, still young and pure. There were none of the tattoos or body piercings some of the others had, his clothes were simple, basic items, like tonight, a white t-shirt that hung seductively on his lean frame and jeans that rode so low Quentin was surprised they didn’t slide down his legs.

But he also knew Shelley wasn’t naïve, wasn’t some innocent. Bart had told him what had happened between them and Quentin smiled now thinking of it. The submissiveness that existed in a form that would scare most of the guys in the bar.

It amazed him, the coordinated way heads turned, from one end of the bar to the next. He saw guys in two different places move to make room for Shelley, each vying for his attention. But it was the end of the bar Shelley went and at first it seemed a mistake. Then he saw the guy sitting there, alone, nursing a beer. He looked older than the others, and with hair cut very short and a clean-shaven face, he looked military. A t-shirt was stretched tight over a muscular chest and tattoos went down one arm, a complete sleeve of images. The jeans were in dark shadow and he could make out nothing about them, but he saw the black boots, polished to a shine, for they reflected the dim light that did penetrate the darkness below the bar.

“Do you know that guy?” Quentin asked Bart pointing toward the end of the bar.

“No, but I’ve seen him around. I think…I know he is in my calculus class.  I have to admit I wouldn’t have pegged him for someone we’d see tonight.”

“He looks military.”

“There are a lot of guys in the ROTC, and there are those who served first then came to college. I’d guess the latter for this guy.”

Quentin watched as Shelley was caught looking  at the guy, the guy laugh shaking his head, then the first introductions, Shelley looking timid, unsure of himself. Bart leaned close, right up to his ear.

“Shelley may be reading this guy correctly.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know.”

When Shelley returned to the table, he was followed by the guy holding a fresh beer.

“Hey guys, this is Wade. Wade, this is Bart and Quentin.”

“Wade” Quentin and Bart said in unison.

“Quentin…Bart. Hey, aren’t you in my calculus class?”

“Yes” Bart replied.

Wade sat in the chair between Shelley and Bart and for two rounds of drinks, Wade, another beer and the guys cokes, they talked of their fields of study, the classes they were taking and where they were from. Wade spoke of growing up in Nebraska, his father a farmer, and how he used a tour in the Navy to escape the place. He’d been stationed in Norfolk for a while where he did his training with electronic and hydraulics before shipped to Japan for the remaining years of his tour, which he had done with an extension of two years.

“So, you’re twenty-three?” Shelley asked.

“Twenty-four; I’m a sophomore.”

“Oh, yeah. Me too.”

“You’re twenty-four?”

“Huh…no, I’m nineteen but I’m a sophomore.”

For about a half hour they circled around the topic of sex, of everyone being gay. It was Wade you finally asked a question that led in that direction, looking at Bart then Quentin.

“You guys are together, right?”

“Yes” the two of them answered in unison again, making Shelley and Wade laugh.

“How long?” Wade asked.

“Not long. We meet over the summer. We’re from the same area and now that Quentin is on campus, we can see each other whenever we want.”

“Quentin, this is your freshman year?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think I could date anyone from back home. What brought you two together. What was the attraction?”

Quentin looked at Bart then over to Shelley and the three of them laughed, Quentin and Shelley nervously.

“What’s so funny?” Wade asked.

“Oh, if you only knew what makes these two tick” Shelley replied and Quentin knew he was red-faced with embarrassment.

Wade looked at Quentin, eyes studying him, looking at him intensely, then he looked at Bart and saw not embarrassment, or anxiety, but a look of mischievousness. Leaning forward, keeping his voice down he directed his question to Bart.

“A master and slave thing?”

The Submissiveness of Shelley

The conversation changed rapidly, Bart admitting to the relationship he had with Quentin. Shelley had listened, still fascinated to hear it spoken about openly. Bart gave little detail, but it was obvious the roles they played, who was the dominant one and who was submissive. Their roles played out even at the table.

Shelley saw Wade’s posture change, more relaxed as the night went on. Wade began to engage him more, ask about his personal life, slowly broaching the subject of his own desires, till the question was asked of him.

“You looking for a master? Someone who is dominant, especially in bed?”

Shelley froze for a minute, looked to Bart then Quentin, before finally looking at Wade and nodding his head yes.

“Tell him, Shelley. Be honest about what you want” said Bart, leaning in closer, lowering his voice. Quentin nodded his head in agreement and Shelley knew they were right. Knew this was no time for bullshit. No beating around the bush or laughing it off, like he’d done in the past. If he was going to find someone that gave him what he wanted, what he needed, he had to be upfront about it.

Bart and Quentin left the table to play pool, letting Shelley and Wade talk. Shelley stammered at first, but when he saw Wade was taking him seriously, wasn’t making fun of him or laughing about what he liked, he eased forward on his elbows and talked more honestly about himself than he had ever done in his life.

The bartender called last call for the second time. Bart and Quentin had left an hour earlier leaving Shelley with Wade.

“I’d love for you to come with me tonight, but I’ve got a class mid-morning tomorrow and…”

“It’s okay, we can get together later” Shelley interrupted, glad to have the opportunity to go out with someone like Wade, even if he had to wait a day. “Friday night?” he asked.

“Friday night would be great. Why don’t you come over around six and we can hang out a bit, have a beer while I grill something. Then we can see how things play out” said Wade, tilting his head as he smiled.

“That works for me. Where do you live?”

“I rent a house on Baylor Drive, 315 on East Baylor. It’s a little white house with a porch across the front.”

“You’re in a house?”

“Oh, hell yes. After five years in the military I was not staying in a dorm.”

“I’ll see you at six” Shelley replied as they parted ways on the sidewalk, Shelley toward campus and his dorm and Wade in the opposite direction, heading toward his neighborhood a few blocks away.

Shelley arrived at Wade’s right at six and knocked on the door. From within he heard Wade tell him to come on in. He entered the small living room, wearing a white shirt and jeans that were new, the dark blue color not faded by washing, and stopped frozen in place when he saw Wade. Sitting on the sofa, one arm draped casually over the back, Wade sat wearing a leather harness and black leather pants, the crotch some sort of cod piece. His muscular upper body visible around the leather straps that crossed in front.

Shelley had assumed tonight would be just a simple dinner and a chance to get to know one another. There would be time to talk, to consider his options with Wade. But sitting before him he saw his options limited. There was a moment last Wednesday, when returning from the bathroom, he saw Bart and Wade in deep conversation. He hadn’t thought much of it, but now, remembering how Quentin had looked, he knew what that conversation was all about. He moved into the room, standing between the coffee table and television facing Wade. It was obvious what was required of him. He knew exactly what he had to do.

He unbuttoned his shirt, slipped it from his shoulders, folded it neatly and laid it on the coffee table. He slipped off each shoe, pulled off his socks, tucking them into a shoe. Standing in front of Wade, neither having said anything once he came in, he undid his jeans and worked them down each leg. As he stood, folding the jeans neatly, he felt his cock stir, felt it push against the soft cotton of his boxers. Jeans laid by the shirt he hesitated for a brief moment, wondering if he was to take everything off. But he knew from the way Wade watched him and taking the waistband at each side he slipped them down.

Naked, cock thickening with just the feel of his exposure and how Wade looked at up at him, he stood waiting, ready to do Wade’s bidding. Ready to submit.

He watched Wade slide the coffee table to the side clearing the floor in front of the sofa, then sit back, staring up at him. Wade spread his legs and put both arms over the back of the sofa, waiting, eyes staring ahead, their intent obvious to him. He moved closer and went to his knees between Wade’s legs. He leaned forward and pressed his face into the leather cod piece, capturing the scent of leather, and something else, something masculine, a faint smell that was Wade beneath the leather. Holding his head up a few inches he saw the zippers running down each side of it and he looked up at Wade who nodded his head.

Hands shaking, nervous like he had never been before, he reached for the zippers.

“Stop” Wade commanded and he pulled each hand back to his side. “Why are you shaking?”

“Nervous, I guess.”

“Do you not trust me?”

“Yes…I do…it’s just…”

“Are you still embarrassed to admit to your desires? Admit how you want to submit to someone…to me?”

“A little.”

“Don’t be. Should we stop?”

“What? No!” Shelley exclaimed and Wade smiled at him, hearing some confidence in his reply that was absent before.

“Your safe word will be brake. Say it, let me know you understand.”

“Brake.”

“Nothing else you say will cause me to stop.”

“I know.”

Wade merely nodded his head and spread his legs. Shelley reached for the zippers and pulled them down till the cod piece fell down revealing Wade’s cock and balls. They were pulled through a tight opening created by the two flaps buttoned together and the cock twisted and rolled, thickening before Shelley’s eyes. A hand on each knee, Shelley moved to it, used his mouth to feel its growing length and how the shaft thickened getting harder and harder. He mouthed the head, tongued the slit and sucked it into his mouth. He pushed down into Wade’s crotch till he had all of it buried inside his mouth.

Wade took a deep breath then grabbed him by the hair. He held Shelley down on his cock till struggling to breathe, face turning red, then he let him up gasping for breath. Wade’s cock bobbed in front of Shelley glistening wetly with his spit. Shelley moved back on it, took it in his mouth. Wade leaned back and watched.

Shelley worked his mouth on the cock wondering if he’d get his reward. Would Wade let him have its load this quickly. He soon had his answer when Wade pushed his head up, telling him to stop. He watched Wade stand and head toward a short hall off the living room.

“Follow me” Wade uttered without looking back and Shelley climbed to his feet and did as requested. The light was off in the hall giving him the sensation of going through a tunnel. Wade went through the door at the end of it and a dim light spilled out making the dark corners appear darker. Shelley followed Wade and stood just behind him in the room that should have been a bedroom. Except it wasn’t.

The room was nearly empty. On one wall was a small wooden table with various things sitting on it. Shelley saw black leather and metal forms, at first not recognizing any of them. Then he saw the flogger, the long leather straps dangling over the table’s edge. Next to it lay a collar, then leather loops, the smaller ones for wrists and the larger for ankles. A ball gag, and small chains lying in a coiled pile. It made his skin tingle to consider each item. To the right on the next wall was a cross and what looked like a modified sawhorse. Then he saw the platforms for hands and knees with eyehooks spaced along the frame and knew the upper padded platform was where to rest your chest. Opposite the table, on the next wall was the thing that made him nervous. He’d avoided looking at it, but now, eyes scanning the small room, it was the last thing to look upon. It was a tall straight back chair. A throne really, with a high back and wide flat arms, except there were eye hooks set in the frame in different locations, and in the seat, standing up tall, thick, and shiny black, was a dildo. It looked to be eight or ten inches.

Shelley wondered where Wade would lead him, which station would be the one he’d find himself submitting to Wade.

He watched Wade move to the table and pick up the cuffs and toss them on the floor at his feet.

“Put them on” said Wade, who turned to the table and picked up a small bottle.

As Shelley secured each wrist cuff, he watched Wade drizzle lube over the dildo, knowing why. He watched the muscular figure, arm out, bicep thick with muscle and he thought “master”, then “sir”. The words arose, solid in their meaning. He’d never once thought the same when he had been with Bart. Not once did he imagine them; not like this. But across the room, upper body framed by the harness and the lower body covered in black leather, the light reflecting from it with a white glare, the words formed around the man.

He bent over and secured the right ankle cuff, then began the left when Master came up behind him, ran a hand over his bare ass, squeeze one cheek then swatted it lightly.

“Hurry up” Master commanded and Shelley fumbled with the other cuff till it was secure around his ankle. He moved to stand but a hand came down on his back holding him bent over. He froze in place. Waited. Another hand rubbed his ass, wet slick fingers moved down between his cheeks, rubbed along the dark crevice till they touched the opening to his body. They circled it, rubbed over it, pressing against its tightness. Then two fingers bore their way through, sinking into his hole.

Shelley stayed bent over as those fingers twisted and turned inside him, piston inward as far as they could go, then pull outward. Once again, he felt his nakedness, this full exposure for another’s pleasure. “Slave.” The word formed in his mind. He knew it’s meaning, the implication as it applied to him. He was the Master’s Slave.

The fingers pulled free and he felt empty. He wanted to feel Master using his hole. He wanted to feel needed, the object of someone’s desire, the subject of their control.

“Go and sit.”

It was such a short simple command, but it made his heart race in his chest. He felt the clammy heat of his skin, as if burning up with fever, and wondered if he could really do it, this role; submitting to Master. It was only a few steps and he was before the chair. He saw the dark stained wood shine in the dim light, the thick black dildo secured to the seat, and glancing over at Master, looking at his flaccid cock now exposed to him, he knew it was the same size when erect. It was preparation. A display of his subordination, a willingness to subject himself to this display for the Master. To show he was worthy.

He turned and eased down. The slick dildo touched his ass and he bore down on it, feeling the stretch of his hole. Slowly, he moved downward feeling the dildo slide into his hole. It filled him when he was seated. Master secured each wrist to the arm of the chair, then lifted his feet and secured each ankle to a front leg of the chair, feet slightly off the floor. It put all his weight on the dildo, made sure he couldn’t raise up or shift his weight. He was going to take it, all of it, for as long as Master deemed appropriate.

Then Master rolled a mirror over in front of him, forcing him to stare at his reflection. As he stared at the naked boy in the mirror, eyes wide open, cock half hard between spread thighs, he heard the door of the room open, then close. He was alone with the image of his submissiveness before him. This reflection showing his real self. At first, he felt embarrassed by it, a humiliation he didn’t want to admit, but as he sat staring at the naked boy before him, he realized there was nothing to be embarrassed about. In this situation, this sexual arrangement between two men, this is who he was. This is what he wanted. Something he knew Bart couldn’t give him. Not like this.

He stared at his reflection, this person he had considered a boy until now. It came to him, what Master was doing, bound to this chair with the penetration, the fullness of it. He was showing him the way. He smiled at his reflection as his cock stirred, rolled over, thickened, till it began to rise between his thighs. He felt his skin, this exposed flesh, and shivered as if a cold air had blown across his body. This is where he belonged. This is what he wanted, even if he couldn’t admit it earlier. He looked at his body, the way his skin seemed to pull tight over his frame, revealing his muscular form. Each nipple stood our hard. His cock angled up harder, bobbed up and down till it drooled with his arousal. Sucking in air, he could smell his scent. The sweaty odor from his skin mixed with something else. Some essence he recognized as his own.

The door opened and Master returned.

“Sir…I’m ready.” 

He faced the wall, wrists secured to the upper sections of the cross and ankles to the lower sections. He felt the heat of his skin, the burning sensation from each strike of the flogger. He could hear it swirling in the air, then the crack of the leather straps against his skin, this time his ass. He fought against the pain, but still shuddered from the pain. As he sucked in air the flogger popped against the skin of his back, red hot with the contact. It struck him over and over and over across the back, the ass and down each thigh till he howled with the pain. When Master stopped and he hung in his bonds, he saw his cock sticking straight out, so hard it ached for release. The Master’s hand came around his waist and took it, stroked it till he began to push it through the tight grip trying to increase the stimulation.

“Not yet” whispered Master as the hand withdrew.

Secured to the horse, as he thought of the pad he was straddling, chest resting on it while he was on hands and knees were secured to it. Then he was secured from the collar now around his neck. He couldn’t move. He felt Master toy with his ass, finger him till four were twisting and turning in his hole. Then a dildo penetrating him, sank deeper than the fingers and stretched him open even more. It piston in his hole till his own cock pushed against the end of the pad as it tried to rise to his stomach.  Then it was gone, and he felt the air blow over his hole and knew he was gaped open. He stared at the floor, waiting, wondering what Master would do next. What preparation was left to do. Then he felt the round head of Master’s cock pushing against his hole, then squeezing through. He shuddered from the pain of entry and from the joy of it too.

Then Master was pressed against his ass. He felt the fullness of the penetration, the way his opening stretched around the cock inside him. He felt the tug as Master pulled outward, then he felt the push back inward. Slowly the pace of Master’s fuck increased till he felt the smack against his ass, and the sound of it echoed in the small room. He rocked roughly back and forth and felt his own cock pinned against the end. Hands held his waist as the fuck into his hole grew harder, rougher, making him moan and cry out. He tried to stifle it, had his jaw cinched tight, but the hammering of cock in his hole was too much, too hard, and he let his cries reverberate with the sound of their bodies coming together.

One hand slid slickly up his back dragging over his sweaty skin. It moved up to his neck and gave it a squeeze, then moved upward over his head grasping a handful of hair. The hand pulled upward tugging against the collar secured to a hook below his neck making it  tighten around his neck.

Then he was empty, his hole gapped open to the air of the room. Master’s cock lay between his cheeks and moved back and forth between them. Slowly, teasing him with the movement. Then he felt it flex between his cheeks and warm cum spatter across his back. Master stepped back away from him and he heard the door open then close. He was alone again. Alone with his thoughts as he felt the cum turn runny and trickle over his sides.

“Wake up.”

The voice seemed part of a dream, but then he remembered. It was the odor of leather and cum more than anything else that woke his memory of where he was at, naked and secured in bondage. He opened his eyes to see Master’s cock in his face. It was hard, angled upward and he held his head up waiting. It moved to his face, dragged over his cheeks, nose, and across his lips. Then it pressed against them and he opened allowing it to slip through. Inward and back out, the cock piston in his mouth. At times it pushed to the back of his throat nearly gagging him. He tried to keep up with its pace, working his tongue around it, in an attempt to stimulate Master even more. But the pace was too fast, too brutal, and he could only hold still and take it.

Then he was heaving for breath, the cock no longer in his mouth. Before he could regain his senses, it was pushing against his ass. He shivered as his opening stretched to accommodate Master, painfully, so tight he wondered how Master could possibly be pushing cock into him. But inch after inch squeezed into his hole, till he felt Master’s body pressed against his ass.

A kiss between his shoulder blades, a tongue dragging upward over his skin, then the tug at his opening as cock was being pulled outward. He shuddered, let a moan escape his lips. There was a nip at the back of his neck, then hands holding his waist, fingers digging into his sides. Finally, there was the fuck. The push and tug at his opening as cock was worked through it. Slowly at first, so slow he felt every inch moving through its tightness. The pace increased, body against body, till it was fast, rough, rocking him back and forth. When the sound of their bodies smacking together echoed in the room he cried out, louder, begging to be fucked harder.

He thought he heard Master laugh, or was it a scoff? Master hammered his hole, harder, till he was being pushed forward, one rough inch after the next, across the floor.

“Fuck…take it” Master uttered as he slammed inward all the way and held his spurting cock in Shelley’s depths.

Just as fast as it started, it was over, and Master had left the room. He lay there, his cock dripping with need. He felt the cum leaking from his hole, trickling down one thigh. How long he was alone he wasn’t sure, but it hadn’t been long, and he heard the door open once again. Master came in, completely naked, and stood by his side. He felt the caress of a hand down his back and over his ass. He felt fingers rake up cum and push into his hole. Then they were rubbing down his cock, lightly, all the way to the flared head. They manipulated him till he was squirming, about to beg for release, and they released him.

Then he was freed, the hook to his collar, each wrist, then each ankle. Master helped him to stand, grabbed him by the chin and kissed him roughly on the mouth.

“I want you to come for me” Master whispered in his ear.

He watched Master step back, lay down on the floor on his back, then motioning him to come forward.

“Let me see you come. Stand over me and let it rain down on me. Show me how aroused you are for me” Master uttered in a low voice.

He stood over him, feet planted either side of each thigh and he began to masturbate, to work his hand on his leaking cock till it was slick. He reimagined the events since arriving, the way Master used him, fucked him whenever he wanted. He grew so rock hard his cock ached. And he kept stroking it till his hand was a blur. He thought of Master’s cock in his mouth, the taste of it on his tongue.

He stiffened, his entire body rigid, as his release surged through him. He jerked and shoved forward with his hips, pushing his cock through his fist just as it ejaculated. Cum arched out of it in thick wads. They spattered in Master’s face, on his chest and over his stomach. He milked the last drops out of his cock letting them drool down on Master’s leg.

Then, when totally exhausted, he dropped to his knees beside him.

“I assume you have some assignments to do this weekend?” Wade asked as Shelley came out of the bathroom cleaned up and dressed.

“Yes. And you?”

“Two papers to finish and some calculus to do before Monday.”

“Damn…two papers?”

“Yes, so I need you to go home so we both can get done.”

“When…can we…”

“I’ll call you. Maybe Monday night for a short little session?”

Shelley smiled, glad to know he wasn’t being completely dismissed, that there would be time for him again soon.

“Shelley.”

“Yes, Wade?”

“I think you’re special and hope we find we’re good with each other.”

Shelley knew he blushed, felt it in his face, and he smiled, then leaned toward Wade and kissed him quickly.

“I’ll wait to hear from you.”

The Dominant

“Glad to hear it. So, everything is better than you could imagine? Shelley, I’m happy for you. We should all get together for dinner one night. It’s been weeks since we’ve seen you. Check with Wade and let’s plan something.” said Bart into his cell phone. He hit end and slipped it in his pocket. As he climbed to the stair to his floor, he found himself smiling as he imagined what Wade and Shelley must be doing. There was an aspect to Shelley that was more submissive than Quentin. One that wanted pain and pleasure, in equal measure. He knew he could have given it to him, but not like Wade had done, with the attire to go with the role. It was enticing to consider it. The harnesses and all the leather gear, but the reality was he only wanted a few things, for the most important aspect for him was the physical contact. The feel of skin against skin. He didn’t want a harness or anything else to come between him and Quentin. Yes, he used a belt on Quentin’s ass and there was the collar and leash. Things that added to their experience, made the contact of his hand on Quentin’s ass even sweeter. That burning heat of each smack. And the feel of his body against Quentin’s when he was fucking him. There was something about Quentin’s legs, with their light dusting of hair against his chest that really drove his arousal, made him want to fuck harder. He loved the way they rocked and rubbed against him when he was hammering Quentin’s hole. It made his cock stir to think about it.

Walking down the corridor he saw the looks and knew what was behind them. The looks of disgust by the guys in the first room. The look of fear or curiosity by so many others. And there were looks of jealously that still made him struggle not to laugh when he saw them. What was happening in his room was less and less a mystery as time went on. As they heard Quentin’s cries and if they dare put an ear to the door to listen, they heard the pleading, the begging to be fucked. Did they masturbate to the imagery it concocted in their minds? He was sure they did.

He passed Ricardo and Jason, the two of them shirtless as usual, showing off their bodies, even in the dorm full of nothing but guys. He saw how they stopped talking when he approached, made a weak attempt to say hello then turned away. He knew they feared him. This sexual aspect between Quentin and him, one that included roles of submission and dominance.

He eased his room door open, slipped in and locked it behind him. The only light what filtered around the blinds, enough to have the room illuminated in a soft warm glow. He tossed his backpack on the desk and turned to his bed. Quentin was staring up at him, eyes pleading, weary with waiting for his return.

He heard Quentin moan, but it was too muffled by the underwear shoved in his mouth and held by a strip of cloth tied around his head.  Bart looked at the familiar body, naked, wrists tied to the headboard and ankles tied to each corner at the foot of the bed. He saw Quentin’s cock roll around and begin to get partially erect. Even now, after weeks of their routine, and still, Quentin was aroused just by him walking into the room. Was the anticipation of what was to come, something he varied all the time, or was it more intimate than that, some desire that focused on him more so than the sexual play between them? Or was it both?

He eased down on his knees by the bed and ran one hand up the left leg, the soft hairs tickling his palm. He moved up along Quentin’s side, over his heaving stomach and circled around the chest. He pinched one nipple, gave it a bit of a twist till Quentin shivered with the pain and pushed up with his chest. Then he raked his hand down and encircled the cock and balls, tightened down till the sac was stretched tight and growing red. Then he leaned over and licked the head making him squirm and push up, desperately wanting him to take it in his mouth. Letting go he trailed his fingers down below Quentin’s balls and tapped the base of the butt plug nestled securely in his ass. They had started with a small one, with very little taper to it, but sunk in Quentin’s ass now was one considered medium, a round thickness that made Quentin feel its insertion. Bart considered going larger but he like Quentin to remain tight. He wanted to feel that ass squeeze down on his cock when he punched through its tightness. It made Quentin really feel it, every inch of his cock.

Bart tapped the plug and watched Quentin shiver. He climbed on the bed, still dressed, suddenly aroused and ready. He untied the strap of cloth and removed the underwear from Quentin’s mouth, then he undid his jeans. He had stopped wearing underwear when he knew Quentin would be available for play. His cock flopped out, growing thicker and longer, and he pushed it to Quentin’s mouth. He didn’t want Quentin to toy with it. He wanted him to suck it and suck it Quentin did. He watched it disappear between those lips, felt the suction on it, the manipulation by lips and tongue. He grew fully erect. Raising up on his knees he pumped his cock in Quentin’s mouth, pushed inward till nearly gagging him.

He was so aroused he was near release in no time and he sat on Quentin’s chest and watched his cock flex up and down only inches from Quentin’s mouth.

“You want my load?”

“Yes” Quentin replied in a breathless exhale.

Bart rose up feeding Quentin his cock. He didn’t hold back, immediately pumping his hips, thrusting through Quentin’s lips and into his hot slick mouth. He pumped his cock to cum and soon he rewarded Quentin with his load. He felt the suction around his cock as it ejaculated wad after wad. He pulled free and stood by the bed, his cock still hard. He wanted more.

Stripped of his clothes, Bart untied Quentin’s leg and twisted his torso around getting his ass on its side. Butt plug removed, he pushed the leg on top upward till the cheeks parted and he bore down on his target. He pushed against Quentin’s tight hole till his cock squeezed through it. He kept pushing forward, sinking inch after inch into it, till he was over half-way in. Then he began to fuck.

Quentin moaned and grunted as he hammered his cock inside that hole, thrusting through the tightness till it loosened to his assault. He heard Quentin cry out then mumbling something over and over. He leaned over him, holding himself up on his hands and listened as he kept thrusting into Quentin’s depths.

“Fuck…fuck me…fuck me…” Quentin mumbled over and over.

He pulled out and for a moment, watched his wet, slick cock flex up and down. Then he forced Quentin to roll over on his stomach, twisting his arms bound to the head of the bed. It restricted his movements, made him more submissive to Bart’s desires, and in turn, his own.

Bart moved on him, pushed cock back inside him, thrusting with all his might, shoving all the way in. He hammered away at Quentin’s hole, abdomen smacking against ass, the room filled with the sound of it…and Quentin’s moans. He held Quentin by the neck, holding him still as he piston cock inside him. He moved easily within Quentin’s hole, loosened by his assault.

“I’m going to come” Bart uttered through cinched teeth and he heard Quentin mumbling ‘yes’ over and over. He shoved into Quentin’s depths and held still as he erupted, ejaculating wad after wad into the battered hole.

Spent, heaving for breath, he eased out and down next to Quentin. He helped him roll over, then ran a hand down the sweat slick chest and stomach, his hand moved up and down to Quentin’s heaving for breath. Then he took Quentin in hand, the thick cock filling it. He leaned over and licked the head, making Quentin gasp and shudder. He licked it again. He dragged his tongue down the length of it then back up, encircling the head with his lips. He moved on the cock, took every inch then worked his mouth up and down.

Quentin shuddered, tried to push up with his hips, then he cried out and filled Bart’s mouth with his load. Bart took it all, then with much of it still in his mouth he kissed Quentin, giving it back to him.

As he undid the wrist cuffs they kissed and smiled at each other. Free of his bonds, Bart guided Quentin to the bathroom where they would shower together. They were both exhausted and in need of sleep, and this final ritual brought closure to their sessions. It gave them an intimacy that spoke of something greater between them.

Epilogue

The weeks go by, papers written, books read, and exams taken. There are nights out, weekend trips to Atlanta or Fort Walton Beach, and often, after long days in classes or the library or at their desks studying, a late dinner at some restaurant, preferably one away from campus.

Bart and Quentin continued to learn about each other, to find the things that arouse them, their roles growing more and more defined. For Quentin, Bart was more than some dominant master; he was his partner. The man that fed his desires, built up his fantasies into a reality he didn’t think possible. And Bart understood this and grew to love Quentin for it.

For Shelley, his relationship with Wade expanded, took him to levels he dared not say aloud. But he savored each moment. Each period of waiting, each pain of the body that blended with its pleasures. He never understood how their costuming in their roles could have such an impact. Wade in full leather: harnesses, pants with codpieces and black boots he had to lick clean. And there was his own gear. The leather jock strap with its codpiece, rarely kept in place, cuffs on each wrist and ankle, and the collars and gags and hood pieces. The smell of leather made him erect before Wade ever touched him. The sound of the flogger or whip swinging through the air did the same. He gave himself to Wade, and in return Wade showed him who he was.

Bart and Wade talked about how Quentin and Shelley were similar in some respects, but so different in other ways. The idea of Shelley into leather, the gear that bound him and Wade’s gear that defined his role in their bonding and sex intrigued Bart but wasn’t what he wanted. Often when the four of them dined together late at night, sitting in the back of one restaurant or the other, they talked about it. Openly, without shame. How each couple found their own way.

Their remaining years on campus would continue to be years of exploration. The further defining of their roles and the things that aroused them the most. Late at night, when each couple were alone, their physical desires sated, they would talk about more intimate matters. Their feelings toward each other, this bond that grew between them with every passing day.