His hips thrust forward in agreement, but he doesn’t utter a word. He remains silent, just as I asked.
“You need me, Bane? You need me to let you come?”
He nods frantically, and I bite down on the tip of his cock, pulling his foreskin into my mouth.
He goes limp again, and I chuckle, grabbing onto the base of his dick and stroking. I let him slide across my tongue and into my mouth. Not much, but enough.
“You going to mess me up, umnyashka? You going to make me all dirty?”
Those words have the rope tightening against the showerhead, the metal of the pipe creaking loudly. He’s going to pull it right out of the wall. But that doesn’t stop me. I continue to suck on him, tonguing the underside of his dick and making him whine.
I’ll let him make that noise. It reminds me of a trapped mouse.
My little trapped animal. Feral. Needy. In a little bit of pain. Close to death, allowing me to revive him over and over.
I let my teeth drag across him, and he bucks forward. My fist tightens on him, and he shakes. I work him again. Teeth and spit and tongue.
“Coming,” he moans after a minute of the torture. His eyes slam into mine, and I pull off, working his cum from his dick. I let it splatter across my mouth and face, feeling it drip down my neck.
He groans at the sight of it, painting me white until he’s spent, his dick twitching in my hand.
“So dirty. In my mess. So hot.”
He faints again as he’s watching me, and as he hangs there limply, I untie him, slipping my body under the spray. Bane comes to, my hands pressing him against the wall. He sags against the cool tiles, trying to catch his breath, trying to stay alive for more fucks, for more orgasms. It’s impressive that I’ve managed to tire him out. He’s full of energy. I never thought I’d see the day.
But he’s worn out, visibly shaken.
But I’m not done with him. Not even close. I will wear him out until he’s sleeping. Until his body is pressed against mine and I can feel the even puffs of his warm, slumbering breath against my skin.
As I clean myself, he watches intently. But he doesn’t move. Just continues to catch his breath. When I pull the rope from the showerhead and spin him around, he moans, his hands landing on the small stone bench on the other end of the shower, his ass pushed out.
Those eyes meet mine over his shoulder and he wiggles his butt, the tight globes jiggling. My name right there on his pale skin. Such a wonderful sight to behold.
My ownership. My trademark.
I should insure it as well. Make sure it’s monetized.
“What are you going to do to me?” he asks, breathless.
“You’ll have to wait and find out. Now, hands behind your back.”
He does as I ask, his face landing gently on the stone bench, his hands obediently moving to his lower back. I could fuck him like this, but I wait. I want to truss him up again, making sure he can’t move, and then spread his legs once more, and make him scream.
Besides I like seeing his cock and balls, like watching them bounce as I move against him.
Or inside him.
My cock jumps at the thought of finally pushing my way into that hole, making him scream. I’m sure he would come again. He’s just that horny.
I step back and examine him, his spread legs, ass up, his hole flexing around nothing. It wants to be filled, it’s practically begging for it. Leaning forward, I spread his cheeks a little wider and watch it.
I should fuck it. I should just give in and fuck him.
His blood has been tested and he’s negative for anything that could harm me and unless he’s been with someone else since…
My hand lands on his ass with a crack, making him groan.
“Have you fucked anyone since I marked you?”
