“A bench to strap him down on, if you have it,” Carver said, balls full and heavy in his briefs. “I brought my own toys.”
“Then I suggest we use the traditional playroom. There’s a selection of benches you can use, and a range of toys in case you feel inspired.”
“Sounds perfect.”
39
Peter
Peter stood still, his whole world narrowing down until the only thing that existed was Carver’s arm wrapped around the back of his neck. He pushed his hands out, sliding them over the silky cotton of his alpha’s dress shirt, pushing under his jacket and resting his hands on his waist.
They stood like that for a moment, the world a silent thing, and then all of a sudden, they were moving again. Peter walked where Carver guided him, trusting that his alpha wouldn’t let him stumble or knock into anything.
Without warning, Carver shifted his grip and grabbed Peter under his elbows, making him cry out around his gag as he was lifted up and carried up a flight of stairs.
Carver’s big hands held Peter tight, and Peter relaxed into the grip, enjoying the feeling of Carver’s strong fingers on either side of his chest.
They stopped moving and Peter was lowered back to his feet, Carver once more leading him forward.
Peter didn’t know anything about his surroundings; other than that, they’d climbed a total of two stairways and the floor was too hard to be carpet.
He wondered how many people were watching him. Did he look stupid? The hood was thick, the leather black and glossy, but Peter couldn’t quite picture himself. It was too alien.
They came to a stop, and for a while they just stood there. Carver was probably talking to someone, Peter reasoned.
Then Carver grabbed his shirt and pulled it off, crouching down and stripping his pants down his thighs and lifting his legs one at a time to tug them off.
Just like that, Peter was naked except for the hood.
His skin prickled with goosebumps, and with Carver behind him, he didn’t know what to do with his hands.
He didn’t have to wonder long enough to figure it out. Carver lifted him up on a padded leather surface, spinning him around and pushing him so that he was flat on his back, his head and legs hanging over the edge of the bench.
He flailed, arms scrambling to steady himself, grabbing the edge of the bench and holding on.
The bench was soft enough to be comfortable, his fingers sinking into the padded edge, but it was Carver’s hand rubbing over his chest that calmed him.
The calm lasted until Carver took his wrists one by one, lowering them down and locking them tightly in a pair of padded cuffs attached to the lower part of the bench.
Peter drew a frantic breath through his nose. They hadn’t discussed tying up his arms. Every time Carver had knotted his mouth, Peter’s hands had been free so that he could use his safety signal. With his wrists attached to the bench, the cuffs soft but unforgiving, Peter would be completely helpless.
Peter’s anxious thoughts were interrupted when Carver grabbed his ankles, lifting them up and pulling his legs back until his body was bent in half and his knees were touching the bench over his shoulders.
A pair of thick straps were buckled into place over the back of his knees, locking him in the bent in half position.
Wrapped up like a pretzel, head hanging over the edge of the bench, Peter realized what Carver intended.
This was not what they’d discussed. Oral knotting, nipples, and playing with his hole—that was the agreed-upon listing of things. Nowhere had Carver said extreme bondage.
Peter felt hands stroking down the side of his hood, calming him, and then the strap holding his gag in place was unbuckled. Taking a deep breath, Peter prepared to object only to find two big fingers pushing into his mouth and pressing down on his tongue.
Carver fucked his mouth with his fingers, rubbing over his gums and tugging on his jaw to open his mouth for the thick cock about to enter.
“Carv—”
That was all Peter got out before Carver pushed his cock into his mouth. Thick and overwhelming, Carver forced his massive cock to the back of Peter’s throat, pushing right past his gag reflex and down into his throat.
There was nothing Peter could do but take it. He was more helpless than ever as Carver started fucking his face, hips slamming into him and balls bouncing off the leather covering his eyes.
