His lips were covered in his own saliva. So was the veiny, thick dildo.
He stood up, attempting to clean the mess he’d made of his face.
“Leave it.”
His hands fell. I pressed the button on the side of the black leather mask, starting the recording.
Click.
Clack.
When I turned around, my subject was on my heels. Upon entering the bedroom, I smiled. He’d followed all the rules. Chains dangled from the contraption. Leather filled the spots where they were separated.
“Get over there.”
Hastily, he moved toward the structure, stepping inside and waiting for more instructions. I placed the camera on the bed and began attaching the chains to his body, strapping him completely.
Hands.
Arms.
Legs.
Neck.
Mouth.
Head.
Back.
Nothing was free. Not even the erection he managed. My lips turned upward, wondering how satisfied his partners must’ve been in bed. He’d requested an eight-inch dick because he likely hadn’t seen one off-screen or beyond the urinals.
I removed the strap from my waist, placing it at his lips. Hungrily, he accepted it. His skills were impressive. His hunger was apparent. He wanted more. He needed more. He was interested in crossing every boundary known to the heterosexual male. And, unfortunately, I wouldn’t be crossing them with him.
“You like that?” I questioned.
“Yes. Yes. So much.”
“Where else do you want this big dick? Hm?”
“Inside of me.”
“Where?”
“In my asshole.”
“Will you take it like the boss you are or cower like a sucker?”
“Take it,” he muttered, sucking the tip.
“I can’t hear you?”
“I’m going to take it– like the boss I am.”
“Good. I want you to show me.”
I grabbed the camera, leaving the dildo shoved in his mouth. Two final images were taken and printed immediately. I stared at my subject, considering the rules we’d made. It was clear to him that all of my subjects were under surveillance for my arsenal of evidence. Even the idea that he’d be given proof this moment existed intrigued him.
