Djinn and Tonic
- 2 years ago
- 14
- 0
Sundays' Tonic free porn video
Sundays afternoons are always twinged with twilight. The setting of the weekend, drawing long shadows of an impending Monday. As days of the week go it’s my least favourite, reminding me of my own middling years, overwhelmed by the dawning considerations of old age. These are symptoms that need self medicating, a gloom only cured by a specific light. My prescribed treatment? The pursuit of sexual gratification, willing or otherwise.
To humiliate others distracts from my own inadequacies and fears. I am a wolf in sheep's clothing.
Your local city park, the urban shopping precincts, in fact any public gathering places are my predatory grounds. My meat is often those excluded by the herd. The fringes of the flock have most to fear from me. Isolating the vulnerable, an individual the social core are willing to sacrifice so they may survive. It’s a bargain that most are unaware of but they pay for none the less.
It was running onto 3pm by the time I had identified my quarry. Time was getting on, Monday drawing ever closer when I spotted my quarry. My breath caught in my throat when I saw the lad. Him surrounded by a heavenly glow created by a gap in the clouds, the sun pouring light onto him. His small, jean-clad ass wiggling as he hurried through the masses, seeking the false safety of isolation. This boy, at least twenty years my junior, his shaggy brown hair partially hiding his angular face... I had to fight to keep my jaw from falling, revealing my intentions.
Every predator needs a cloak of concealment or an element of misdirection. I used my own perceived weakness as my strength; my the length of service in respectable office. The esteem which I am held by our community is my camouflage, hidden in plain sight.
He had now made his way to the porphyries of the market and the very edges of my vision. The stalls were packing up, the last few stragglers bartered for the ever decreasing merchandise. Crowds still gathered round the old parish church, giving good byes and fictitious promises to meet up soon. I made my own bland excuses to disengage from the current crop of sycophants cloying for my attention. With controlled purpose I sought to stalk my prey. Focused only on the boy, all others lost from my sight, nodding dismissively to those who tried to divert me from my desire. No one would question me, believing that perhaps I had grander matters to attend than their piffling lives, as I intently strode by.
Getting closer, I watched the young man subversively, all the while pretending to monitor the cleanup of the stalls. He was now playing his own game of fakery; a particular box of items had been left unattended, to which he had assumed an odd focussed nonchalance toward. Making sure the stallholder was sufficiently distracted by the packing of his unsold wares, he picked up the box and made his way out of the green. Taking time to admire, the boy's controlled exit, as his glancing back would announce his culpability if an alarm was raised, I followed.
My dignified chase was like the king trapping the pawn, the young man had little space to maneuver on his present course. I knew his objective was to get out of sight, his refuge would also be his prison in a dead end behind the vicarage and it’s high garden walls. As he made his way to the rear of the build I followed just out of sight, listening as his footsteps crunched rapidly down the gravel path.
Taking care not to announce my arrival and his discovery too soon, with my own footstep I rounded the corner. He was holding a collar and lead while trying to quickly disgorge the rest of contents from the box on garden lawn. Nothing but bric a brac, frustration and disgust flushed his beautiful features as he picked over his take, on his haunches.
“Well, that was fruitless, such a pathetic risk. Boy” I announced with quiet firmness.
His head spun, eyes reflecting mouth in their attempts at creating the perfect circle ‘O’. Then a stammer followed.
“I..it’s..but..sorry sir it’s jjjust junk...gonna be thrown away”
“Is it yours to throw away?” I said in even tones.
Resignation followed, his slight shoulders drooped in his thin white t shirt as he whispered, “No.”
“What?”
He glanced at the edge of the vicarage and the gap which we had both arrived at. I blocked his only escape route, he recognised that I was a formidable obstruction.
“No. Sir” he repeated only slightly louder.
“I think you ought to come inside, boy.” I stated , giving him little option in the matter.
Taking the large bunch of keys from my belt, I opened the door to the vicarage, motioning the little thief inside. The privileges of office had granted me access to the place, while on ceremonial duty, for my sole use. This was often the case which meant my activities would never be noticed.
Leading him through the door, I motioned for him to sit down at he kitchen table. I gathered the his scent of one of life's victims and sweet youth as he passed by me. He was still holding the collar and leash, as he sat dejectedly, staring at his feet.
“Put those on the table, so we can see the futility front and centre.” I commanded.
The objects were brand new, I could see as he slid them into the middle of the large oak table. I took position in the top chair next to him.
“What is your name? How old are you?”
“Frankie, sir... Err Frank, turned 18 last week, sir.”
“ Don’t call me, ‘Sir,’ call me Mason.”
“Frankie,” I continued “What do you think would constitute a good outcome here?”
“I dunno sir, maybes I could ditch the stuff, in a bin, like? Nobody would notice it gone, please don’t say anything. I’ve never done it before. Sir.”
“Don’t call me, ‘Sir.’ Call me Mason, “ I repeated, “and I agree I don’t think anybody would be that concerned about a missing box, but it’s the principle. You felt the need to steal something that did not belong to you...”
“bbut sir..” he interrupted.
“Quiet! Now, Frankie, we've been over this,' I chastised him. 'Call me Mason. Now, let's see here.. I bet I'm about your father's age. Forty three.”
“Two years older, sir- Mason,” he quickly corrected himself.
“What would he say about this?”
“He’s always moaning at me ‘bout this ‘n that... says I need a firm hand, that’ll soon sort me out, he says.”
“Do you need a firm hand, Frankie?” I said, now reaching for the leash and collar. His eyes still fixed to his feet, only making a furtive glance to check my movements. “There is no lesson, without punitive action, after all. Pain can be a great motivator for change.“ I continued in a flat lifeless tone.
He raised his head, turning it slowly to meet my cold hard stare. His cornflower blue eyes widened, recognising danger here. He sought isolation now he had found it, there was no safety in it now, here alone with me. His features, with concern expressed, scrambled for a solution to a rapidly unexpected situation. He glance at the door to the back garden. Again, I obstructed his potential escape.
To confirm my control over this situation I ran my thick fingers through my short salt and pepper hair, so to highlight my large, strong hands. His own were thin and slender I noticed; they wrung nervously in front of him while, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“Frankie , I feel we have arrived at an appropriate response as to what should be done about this behaviour. There is a lesson in understanding that your poor life choices have consequences.”
“I never agreed to...”
“Shut up now, Frankie” I snapped, cutting him off in mid protest. “I want you to take this collar and put it around your neck and attach the leash.”
He stared at me, unbelieving, face turning adorably scarlet. 'Well...'
'Quiet,' I growled. He immediately quieted.
He stood and I mirrored his movement, using my size to intimidate the smaller man. I held out the plain leather collar. With a shaking hand he took it from me, opening it up and raising it to his throat. Tears welled in his eyes, there was now a distinct metallic smell of fear in the room. A wolf grin spread across my face knowing that full submission was close.
Frankie finished fastening the leather strap, I passed him the buckled end of the leash and he attached it as I had instructed, I held the other end and gently tugged to check we were secure. Wet streaks now marked his face, the first drops plopping on the table.
“Frankie, do you understand what is going to happen next?”
“Don’t. Please Don’t sir” he now sobbed.
“Frankie, I told you to call me Mason, If you don’t listen this is going to be a very hard lesson.” I said, in a warning voice.
“Yes, right, sorry.” He replied, taking a step away from me, cringing slightly. The kitchen chair behind him stopping any further retreat. I snapped the leash taut bring the slight lad closer to me, his eyes only reaching my chin.
“Sit” I barked.
“What are you-”
I pushed his face and he landed heavily on the chair behind, not even bothering to respond to his protest I grabbed his chin, pulling his face upwards, forcing him to look me in the eye. My breath caught in my throat. Jesus, is he beautiful! Wide, questioning blue eyes, bordering on violet really as the daylight turned to dusk. Frankie searching mine for any hint of mercy. His nose was small and upturned, feminine, and his lips were large and full. I licked my lips and sat beside him.
“You will not like this, physically. But somewhere in there,” I tapped his forehead, “is a man who takes responsibility for his actions.' His eyes widened in shock.
'Sir... Please...'
“Enough! I told you, my name is Mason. But since you can't remember that, apparently I need to teach you that lesson, first.” I tugged on his leash, the black collar digging into his pale skin. Placing my hand on his back, I forced him to lay over my lap, on his stomach.
I clawed at his jeans, pulling them down over his beautiful ass, inhaling sharply. Small goosebumps were beginning to form on the boy's smooth bare bottom. I placed my hand on his skin, gently, letting him get used to the feeling. Then, without warning- SMACK! His cry resounded through the entire house.
'Shut up,' I hissed. I grabbed a wad of kitchen roll from the work top and crammed his mouth full of it, effectively muffling him. I slapped his ass again, savouring the quieted yelp and small jump he gave. He squirmed whimpering, I tightened my hold.
“Is this what your daddy ment by a firm hand?” Just a muffled choke, in response.
Eight more times, I slapped him, leaving his ass red and raw. On the tenth time, I left my hand on his bottom, letting him get over the pain before massaging him slightly. I felt him relax slightly.
“Stand up,” I told him. He obliged, tripping over his half-pulled down jeans. The boy spit out the kitchen roll, and started to pull up his pants, staring at his feet again.
“No, no,” I laughed, mockingly. “I'm nowhere near done with you yet, boy. Take them off.” He looked at me, eyes wide. I showed him the leash in my hand, tugging slightly. Daring him to disobey me.
That was all the warning Frankie needed; he was out of his clothes in under thirty seconds. I nodded my approval, standing as well.
He stared at the crotch of my pants; my long neglected member was already straining against the seams. The boy shuddered as if involuntarily.
Seeing his stare, I slowly undid my belt, slipping out of it, holding it in my hand. I showed it to Frankie.
'Don't make me use this on you,' I told him quietly. He nodded, understanding.
Slowly, Frankie reached his hands out to undo my trousers. I watched him, amused, allowing his fingertips to brush my caged b**st. A surge of heat unlike anything I'd ever felt tore through me. I shoved his hands away.
'I call the shots here, boy,' I told him. He looked wounded.
Rendering him useless, standing before me in his boxers and t shirt, I agonisingly slowly undid my pants' zipper and button. I pulled them down, my boxers along with them, and tossed them aside. His eyes grew wider, if it was even possible, at the sight of my erection. Effortlessly, I undid my collar and pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it aside, as well. Then I reached over and pulled his t shirt off, as well, navigating it over his head, over the leash, and threw it onto the floor.
The poor boy was spellbound, barely able to stand. He wobbled back and forth, eyes locked on my member. If he had any doubt before about what was coming he understood completely now.
“Oh, Christ, you little bitch” I said, with contempt. “Must I do everything? Fucking kneel!”
Frankie fell to his knees, looking up to my face, eager to please. I remained stoic.
He tentatively brought his lips to the head of my already-quivering cock. A searching tongue tested the taste. Sensing reluctance, I gave him no choice, pushing the phallus inside and pulling the back of his head towards my groin. I realised then, that I was not his first man. He was quickly lapping and sucking away like a slut.
I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes, enjoying the feeling washing over me. My hands found Frankie's hair, clutching chunks of it as though for dear life.
Soon, my hips were rocking, pushing my cock further into his mouth. I quickly tickled his tonsils, testing his reflexes, and felt him gag. The contractions on my glans felt amazing! I pushed further, feeling his throat close around me, watched his eyes flutter, felt his hands beat against my legs frantically. It was all too much for me; forcing his lips to my balls, I came with gusto, down the boy's throat, moaning and bucking my hips. I pulled back, breathing heavily.
Frankie looked at me crazily; a look of half lust, half revulsion. I almost came again, just looking at him.
“Truly a gift,” I muttered. “You need not teach that in Sunday School.”
He smiled, licking the dribbles of my seed out from the corners of his mouth. 'So... My turn?'
I looked at him, contemplating it. I smirked, my balls feeling ready to empty again.
“Your turn, alright, Frankie.”
Tugging on his leash, I pulled him to a standing position. He stumbled out of his boxers, exposing a much smaller, but still beautiful cock. I motioned to kneel, and as he smiled, I threw my arm around him, and pushed him over the kitchen table, his toes barely reaching the floor.
'What the fuck?' He spluttered.
'Language, little tyke,' I admonished, caressing his buttocks and crevice. He struggled to stand, but I held his leash tightly behind his neck.
Stroking my already stiff dick a few times, I scooped up some of my precum on my finger, and held it to his small button. He squirmed.
“No, you can't. I- I don't want to, I’ve never...” he whimpered. I laughed.
'Should have thought of that before, then,' I whispered, teasing his tightened hoop with my fingertip. Without warning, I pushed half a finger inside him.
'Fuck,' he moaned. I laughed.
'That's half a finger, I must take you in hand, remember?' I told him. Immediately, he tensed.
'Please, Mason... You can stop now, I won't, I won't say anything,' he pleaded.
“Say anything? You went into this when you took that box. You performed fellatio as easily as a jezebelle and willingly! You've nothing to say, Frankie. You need a new lesson about consequences, Now…” I applied a bit more pressure, allowing my entire finger to slide inside him, “ I suggest you loosen up a bit. It just might hurt less.”
He went limp, like a rag doll, as soon as he realised that this was more than a threat. The boy's right cheek was pressed hard against the cold polished oak, his cries loud. I retracted my finger.
Leaning back I retrieved some olive oil from the condiments set, which had been pushed to one side. I held his ass cheeks apart with one hand as I slowly drizzled a fair amount of extra virgin oil onto the boy as he squirmed again.
“ You should be thankful of small mercies Frankie; the balsamic vinegar would have been a hard lesson for me to teach.”
Slowly, I massaged his asshole, stretching him to accommodate two, then three of my fingers. All the while, he moaned, gasping occasionally.
Eventually, once I felt he was loosened up enough, I poured out a small amount of oil onto my dick, playing it up and down his crack before stopping at his little temple of Sodom.
'Please, sir, don't do it,' he sobbed.
'I told you.. My name.. Is.. Mason!' I said, as I pushed myself half into the young man. He screamed.
'Oh, shut the fuck up,' I told him. I wrapped his leash around his face, forcing him to bite down on it. 'You may want to gnaw on that, love,' I said sweetly, 'you've still got another four inches to go. Frankie sobbed loudly.
Holding his hips, I pulled back slightly before plowing forward another inch. He grunted and squirmed. I continued to pull back and push forward, sawing my way through his tight hole, until I could feel his shaking cheeks against my hips. I stayed still, trying to let him get used to the feeling.
As I felt him starting to loosen up, I patted his back. 'Good boy,' I told him, 'or should I say, good dog? Since you seem to enjoy your collar so much.'
No reply.
I grabbed his hips tightly, and leaned over him to whisper in his ear. 'I fucking own you. You hear me? Your hole is mine now. You're my little bitch. Mine!' I shouted the last part, as I started to fuck his ring roughly. Frankie moaned uncontrollably.
I poured some olive oil into my cupped hand, reaching around his small frame to grab his hard member. He gasped as he felt my hand caress him. Inevitably, it was this gentle gesture that sent my little man over the edge, groaning and grinding his small arse into me. I continued to fuck him, slower now, feeling my climax build like a burning in my stomach. With a small roar, clutching Frankie's hips and thrusting myself deep inside him, I let loose my seed, coating his insides. He sighed as I pulled myself away from him.
'Here,' I said, tossing him a towel. He nodded gratefully, cleaning himself up. He undid the collar, placing it on the kitchen table.
'Don't you forget that now,' I said with a smirk.
'Actually.. Maybe you should keep it here.'
'You don't want it?'
Frankie smiled. 'I didn't say that. I just said that maybe, I should.. Find it here again.' He stood.
'Same time next month, then?' He asked nonchalantly.
'Um.. Yes, I suppose that works for me,' I said.
'Good.' Frankie stood in front of me, hands behind his back. 'I, um.. I had fun.'
'Me, too,' I told him.
'Okay,' he said, striding towards the door. His hand on the doorknob, he turned to me. 'Oh, one last thing,' he said with a smile.
'What's that?'
'I expect rougher treatment next time... you Reverence.' He winked, and was out the door in a flash.
I sighed, perhaps Sundays have their moments.
To humiliate others distracts from my own inadequacies and fears. I am a wolf in sheep's clothing.
Your local city park, the urban shopping precincts, in fact any public gathering places are my predatory grounds. My meat is often those excluded by the herd. The fringes of the flock have most to fear from me. Isolating the vulnerable, an individual the social core are willing to sacrifice so they may survive. It’s a bargain that most are unaware of but they pay for none the less.
It was running onto 3pm by the time I had identified my quarry. Time was getting on, Monday drawing ever closer when I spotted my quarry. My breath caught in my throat when I saw the lad. Him surrounded by a heavenly glow created by a gap in the clouds, the sun pouring light onto him. His small, jean-clad ass wiggling as he hurried through the masses, seeking the false safety of isolation. This boy, at least twenty years my junior, his shaggy brown hair partially hiding his angular face... I had to fight to keep my jaw from falling, revealing my intentions.
Every predator needs a cloak of concealment or an element of misdirection. I used my own perceived weakness as my strength; my the length of service in respectable office. The esteem which I am held by our community is my camouflage, hidden in plain sight.
He had now made his way to the porphyries of the market and the very edges of my vision. The stalls were packing up, the last few stragglers bartered for the ever decreasing merchandise. Crowds still gathered round the old parish church, giving good byes and fictitious promises to meet up soon. I made my own bland excuses to disengage from the current crop of sycophants cloying for my attention. With controlled purpose I sought to stalk my prey. Focused only on the boy, all others lost from my sight, nodding dismissively to those who tried to divert me from my desire. No one would question me, believing that perhaps I had grander matters to attend than their piffling lives, as I intently strode by.
Getting closer, I watched the young man subversively, all the while pretending to monitor the cleanup of the stalls. He was now playing his own game of fakery; a particular box of items had been left unattended, to which he had assumed an odd focussed nonchalance toward. Making sure the stallholder was sufficiently distracted by the packing of his unsold wares, he picked up the box and made his way out of the green. Taking time to admire, the boy's controlled exit, as his glancing back would announce his culpability if an alarm was raised, I followed.
My dignified chase was like the king trapping the pawn, the young man had little space to maneuver on his present course. I knew his objective was to get out of sight, his refuge would also be his prison in a dead end behind the vicarage and it’s high garden walls. As he made his way to the rear of the build I followed just out of sight, listening as his footsteps crunched rapidly down the gravel path.
Taking care not to announce my arrival and his discovery too soon, with my own footstep I rounded the corner. He was holding a collar and lead while trying to quickly disgorge the rest of contents from the box on garden lawn. Nothing but bric a brac, frustration and disgust flushed his beautiful features as he picked over his take, on his haunches.
“Well, that was fruitless, such a pathetic risk. Boy” I announced with quiet firmness.
His head spun, eyes reflecting mouth in their attempts at creating the perfect circle ‘O’. Then a stammer followed.
“I..it’s..but..sorry sir it’s jjjust junk...gonna be thrown away”
“Is it yours to throw away?” I said in even tones.
Resignation followed, his slight shoulders drooped in his thin white t shirt as he whispered, “No.”
“What?”
He glanced at the edge of the vicarage and the gap which we had both arrived at. I blocked his only escape route, he recognised that I was a formidable obstruction.
“No. Sir” he repeated only slightly louder.
“I think you ought to come inside, boy.” I stated , giving him little option in the matter.
Taking the large bunch of keys from my belt, I opened the door to the vicarage, motioning the little thief inside. The privileges of office had granted me access to the place, while on ceremonial duty, for my sole use. This was often the case which meant my activities would never be noticed.
Leading him through the door, I motioned for him to sit down at he kitchen table. I gathered the his scent of one of life's victims and sweet youth as he passed by me. He was still holding the collar and leash, as he sat dejectedly, staring at his feet.
“Put those on the table, so we can see the futility front and centre.” I commanded.
The objects were brand new, I could see as he slid them into the middle of the large oak table. I took position in the top chair next to him.
“What is your name? How old are you?”
“Frankie, sir... Err Frank, turned 18 last week, sir.”
“ Don’t call me, ‘Sir,’ call me Mason.”
“Frankie,” I continued “What do you think would constitute a good outcome here?”
“I dunno sir, maybes I could ditch the stuff, in a bin, like? Nobody would notice it gone, please don’t say anything. I’ve never done it before. Sir.”
“Don’t call me, ‘Sir.’ Call me Mason, “ I repeated, “and I agree I don’t think anybody would be that concerned about a missing box, but it’s the principle. You felt the need to steal something that did not belong to you...”
“bbut sir..” he interrupted.
“Quiet! Now, Frankie, we've been over this,' I chastised him. 'Call me Mason. Now, let's see here.. I bet I'm about your father's age. Forty three.”
“Two years older, sir- Mason,” he quickly corrected himself.
“What would he say about this?”
“He’s always moaning at me ‘bout this ‘n that... says I need a firm hand, that’ll soon sort me out, he says.”
“Do you need a firm hand, Frankie?” I said, now reaching for the leash and collar. His eyes still fixed to his feet, only making a furtive glance to check my movements. “There is no lesson, without punitive action, after all. Pain can be a great motivator for change.“ I continued in a flat lifeless tone.
He raised his head, turning it slowly to meet my cold hard stare. His cornflower blue eyes widened, recognising danger here. He sought isolation now he had found it, there was no safety in it now, here alone with me. His features, with concern expressed, scrambled for a solution to a rapidly unexpected situation. He glance at the door to the back garden. Again, I obstructed his potential escape.
To confirm my control over this situation I ran my thick fingers through my short salt and pepper hair, so to highlight my large, strong hands. His own were thin and slender I noticed; they wrung nervously in front of him while, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“Frankie , I feel we have arrived at an appropriate response as to what should be done about this behaviour. There is a lesson in understanding that your poor life choices have consequences.”
“I never agreed to...”
“Shut up now, Frankie” I snapped, cutting him off in mid protest. “I want you to take this collar and put it around your neck and attach the leash.”
He stared at me, unbelieving, face turning adorably scarlet. 'Well...'
'Quiet,' I growled. He immediately quieted.
He stood and I mirrored his movement, using my size to intimidate the smaller man. I held out the plain leather collar. With a shaking hand he took it from me, opening it up and raising it to his throat. Tears welled in his eyes, there was now a distinct metallic smell of fear in the room. A wolf grin spread across my face knowing that full submission was close.
Frankie finished fastening the leather strap, I passed him the buckled end of the leash and he attached it as I had instructed, I held the other end and gently tugged to check we were secure. Wet streaks now marked his face, the first drops plopping on the table.
“Frankie, do you understand what is going to happen next?”
“Don’t. Please Don’t sir” he now sobbed.
“Frankie, I told you to call me Mason, If you don’t listen this is going to be a very hard lesson.” I said, in a warning voice.
“Yes, right, sorry.” He replied, taking a step away from me, cringing slightly. The kitchen chair behind him stopping any further retreat. I snapped the leash taut bring the slight lad closer to me, his eyes only reaching my chin.
“Sit” I barked.
“What are you-”
I pushed his face and he landed heavily on the chair behind, not even bothering to respond to his protest I grabbed his chin, pulling his face upwards, forcing him to look me in the eye. My breath caught in my throat. Jesus, is he beautiful! Wide, questioning blue eyes, bordering on violet really as the daylight turned to dusk. Frankie searching mine for any hint of mercy. His nose was small and upturned, feminine, and his lips were large and full. I licked my lips and sat beside him.
“You will not like this, physically. But somewhere in there,” I tapped his forehead, “is a man who takes responsibility for his actions.' His eyes widened in shock.
'Sir... Please...'
“Enough! I told you, my name is Mason. But since you can't remember that, apparently I need to teach you that lesson, first.” I tugged on his leash, the black collar digging into his pale skin. Placing my hand on his back, I forced him to lay over my lap, on his stomach.
I clawed at his jeans, pulling them down over his beautiful ass, inhaling sharply. Small goosebumps were beginning to form on the boy's smooth bare bottom. I placed my hand on his skin, gently, letting him get used to the feeling. Then, without warning- SMACK! His cry resounded through the entire house.
'Shut up,' I hissed. I grabbed a wad of kitchen roll from the work top and crammed his mouth full of it, effectively muffling him. I slapped his ass again, savouring the quieted yelp and small jump he gave. He squirmed whimpering, I tightened my hold.
“Is this what your daddy ment by a firm hand?” Just a muffled choke, in response.
Eight more times, I slapped him, leaving his ass red and raw. On the tenth time, I left my hand on his bottom, letting him get over the pain before massaging him slightly. I felt him relax slightly.
“Stand up,” I told him. He obliged, tripping over his half-pulled down jeans. The boy spit out the kitchen roll, and started to pull up his pants, staring at his feet again.
“No, no,” I laughed, mockingly. “I'm nowhere near done with you yet, boy. Take them off.” He looked at me, eyes wide. I showed him the leash in my hand, tugging slightly. Daring him to disobey me.
That was all the warning Frankie needed; he was out of his clothes in under thirty seconds. I nodded my approval, standing as well.
He stared at the crotch of my pants; my long neglected member was already straining against the seams. The boy shuddered as if involuntarily.
Seeing his stare, I slowly undid my belt, slipping out of it, holding it in my hand. I showed it to Frankie.
'Don't make me use this on you,' I told him quietly. He nodded, understanding.
Slowly, Frankie reached his hands out to undo my trousers. I watched him, amused, allowing his fingertips to brush my caged b**st. A surge of heat unlike anything I'd ever felt tore through me. I shoved his hands away.
'I call the shots here, boy,' I told him. He looked wounded.
Rendering him useless, standing before me in his boxers and t shirt, I agonisingly slowly undid my pants' zipper and button. I pulled them down, my boxers along with them, and tossed them aside. His eyes grew wider, if it was even possible, at the sight of my erection. Effortlessly, I undid my collar and pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it aside, as well. Then I reached over and pulled his t shirt off, as well, navigating it over his head, over the leash, and threw it onto the floor.
The poor boy was spellbound, barely able to stand. He wobbled back and forth, eyes locked on my member. If he had any doubt before about what was coming he understood completely now.
“Oh, Christ, you little bitch” I said, with contempt. “Must I do everything? Fucking kneel!”
Frankie fell to his knees, looking up to my face, eager to please. I remained stoic.
He tentatively brought his lips to the head of my already-quivering cock. A searching tongue tested the taste. Sensing reluctance, I gave him no choice, pushing the phallus inside and pulling the back of his head towards my groin. I realised then, that I was not his first man. He was quickly lapping and sucking away like a slut.
I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes, enjoying the feeling washing over me. My hands found Frankie's hair, clutching chunks of it as though for dear life.
Soon, my hips were rocking, pushing my cock further into his mouth. I quickly tickled his tonsils, testing his reflexes, and felt him gag. The contractions on my glans felt amazing! I pushed further, feeling his throat close around me, watched his eyes flutter, felt his hands beat against my legs frantically. It was all too much for me; forcing his lips to my balls, I came with gusto, down the boy's throat, moaning and bucking my hips. I pulled back, breathing heavily.
Frankie looked at me crazily; a look of half lust, half revulsion. I almost came again, just looking at him.
“Truly a gift,” I muttered. “You need not teach that in Sunday School.”
He smiled, licking the dribbles of my seed out from the corners of his mouth. 'So... My turn?'
I looked at him, contemplating it. I smirked, my balls feeling ready to empty again.
“Your turn, alright, Frankie.”
Tugging on his leash, I pulled him to a standing position. He stumbled out of his boxers, exposing a much smaller, but still beautiful cock. I motioned to kneel, and as he smiled, I threw my arm around him, and pushed him over the kitchen table, his toes barely reaching the floor.
'What the fuck?' He spluttered.
'Language, little tyke,' I admonished, caressing his buttocks and crevice. He struggled to stand, but I held his leash tightly behind his neck.
Stroking my already stiff dick a few times, I scooped up some of my precum on my finger, and held it to his small button. He squirmed.
“No, you can't. I- I don't want to, I’ve never...” he whimpered. I laughed.
'Should have thought of that before, then,' I whispered, teasing his tightened hoop with my fingertip. Without warning, I pushed half a finger inside him.
'Fuck,' he moaned. I laughed.
'That's half a finger, I must take you in hand, remember?' I told him. Immediately, he tensed.
'Please, Mason... You can stop now, I won't, I won't say anything,' he pleaded.
“Say anything? You went into this when you took that box. You performed fellatio as easily as a jezebelle and willingly! You've nothing to say, Frankie. You need a new lesson about consequences, Now…” I applied a bit more pressure, allowing my entire finger to slide inside him, “ I suggest you loosen up a bit. It just might hurt less.”
He went limp, like a rag doll, as soon as he realised that this was more than a threat. The boy's right cheek was pressed hard against the cold polished oak, his cries loud. I retracted my finger.
Leaning back I retrieved some olive oil from the condiments set, which had been pushed to one side. I held his ass cheeks apart with one hand as I slowly drizzled a fair amount of extra virgin oil onto the boy as he squirmed again.
“ You should be thankful of small mercies Frankie; the balsamic vinegar would have been a hard lesson for me to teach.”
Slowly, I massaged his asshole, stretching him to accommodate two, then three of my fingers. All the while, he moaned, gasping occasionally.
Eventually, once I felt he was loosened up enough, I poured out a small amount of oil onto my dick, playing it up and down his crack before stopping at his little temple of Sodom.
'Please, sir, don't do it,' he sobbed.
'I told you.. My name.. Is.. Mason!' I said, as I pushed myself half into the young man. He screamed.
'Oh, shut the fuck up,' I told him. I wrapped his leash around his face, forcing him to bite down on it. 'You may want to gnaw on that, love,' I said sweetly, 'you've still got another four inches to go. Frankie sobbed loudly.
Holding his hips, I pulled back slightly before plowing forward another inch. He grunted and squirmed. I continued to pull back and push forward, sawing my way through his tight hole, until I could feel his shaking cheeks against my hips. I stayed still, trying to let him get used to the feeling.
As I felt him starting to loosen up, I patted his back. 'Good boy,' I told him, 'or should I say, good dog? Since you seem to enjoy your collar so much.'
No reply.
I grabbed his hips tightly, and leaned over him to whisper in his ear. 'I fucking own you. You hear me? Your hole is mine now. You're my little bitch. Mine!' I shouted the last part, as I started to fuck his ring roughly. Frankie moaned uncontrollably.
I poured some olive oil into my cupped hand, reaching around his small frame to grab his hard member. He gasped as he felt my hand caress him. Inevitably, it was this gentle gesture that sent my little man over the edge, groaning and grinding his small arse into me. I continued to fuck him, slower now, feeling my climax build like a burning in my stomach. With a small roar, clutching Frankie's hips and thrusting myself deep inside him, I let loose my seed, coating his insides. He sighed as I pulled myself away from him.
'Here,' I said, tossing him a towel. He nodded gratefully, cleaning himself up. He undid the collar, placing it on the kitchen table.
'Don't you forget that now,' I said with a smirk.
'Actually.. Maybe you should keep it here.'
'You don't want it?'
Frankie smiled. 'I didn't say that. I just said that maybe, I should.. Find it here again.' He stood.
'Same time next month, then?' He asked nonchalantly.
'Um.. Yes, I suppose that works for me,' I said.
'Good.' Frankie stood in front of me, hands behind his back. 'I, um.. I had fun.'
'Me, too,' I told him.
'Okay,' he said, striding towards the door. His hand on the doorknob, he turned to me. 'Oh, one last thing,' he said with a smile.
'What's that?'
'I expect rougher treatment next time... you Reverence.' He winked, and was out the door in a flash.
I sighed, perhaps Sundays have their moments.
Lesley
- 05.11.2020
- 25
- 0
Sonnet 57Chapter 12 Plate Tectonics
- 2 years ago
- 17
- 0
Strictly Platonic
- 3 years ago
- 41
- 0
