The dungeon door clicked shut behind me and I knew I was his for the night. No safe words yet, just the heavy smell of leather and sweat. Marcus stood there in black jeans and boots, arms crossed, looking me over like I was already naked. “Strip,” he said. I peeled off my shirt, kicked off my shoes, shoved my jeans and briefs down in one go. My cock was half hard already from the drive over, thinking about what he’d promised on the app.
He pointed to the padded table in the middle of the room. “Face down, arms out.” I climbed up, the vinyl cool under my skin. Marcus moved fast, buckling thick leather cuffs around my wrists and clipping them to chains at the corners. My ankles got the same treatment, legs spread wide. A wide strap went across my lower back, another over my shoulders. I tested the pull and couldn’t move more than an inch. My dick pressed against the table, trapped and starting to throb.
He walked around me, running a hand down my spine, then grabbed a handful of my ass and squeezed hard. “You’re gonna take what I give you tonight,” he said, voice low. “No begging until I tell you.” I nodded into the padding. A blindfold slid over my eyes, tight. Darkness. Then the sound of him opening a drawer, the snap of a glove, the click of a bottle.
Cold lube dripped between my cheeks. One thick finger pushed straight in, no teasing, just deep and rough. I grunted. He worked it in and out, then added a second, scissoring me open. “Tight little hole,” he muttered. “Gonna stretch it good.” A third finger followed, twisting, finding that spot that made my cock leak onto the table. I tried to push back but the straps held me flat.
He pulled his fingers out and I heard the buzz of a vibrator. It pressed against my hole and slid in slow, thick, filling me. Marcus turned it on low and left it there, then walked away. I heard him moving things, the clink of metal. When he came back the vibe was still humming inside me. Something cold touched my balls, a metal clamp, tight enough to ache. Another on my left nipple, then the right. I hissed at the pinch.
The flogger came next. Leather tails slapped across my ass, not too hard at first, just warming the skin. Then harder, rhythmic, covering both cheeks, the backs of my thighs. Each strike made the vibrator shift inside me. My cock was rock hard now, rubbing uselessly against the table. Marcus paused and reached under me, giving my shaft a few rough strokes. “Don’t come,” he warned. “Not until I say.”
He unbuckled the back strap, flipped me onto my back with the chains, and re-secured everything. The vibrator stayed in. Now I was spread wide, cock pointing up, clamps still biting my nipples. Marcus stripped off his jeans. His own cock was thick and dark, already leaking. He climbed onto the table, straddled my chest, and fed it to my mouth. I opened up and took him, tongue working the head while he fucked my face in short thrusts. Drool ran down my chin. He reached back and twisted one nipple clamp, making me moan around his dick.
After a few minutes he pulled out, moved down between my legs, and yanked the vibrator free. The sudden emptiness made me whimper. He lined up and pushed his cock straight into me, one long thrust that bottomed out. I gasped at the stretch. Marcus started fucking me hard, hips slapping against my ass, the chains rattling with every drive. He grabbed the nipple clamps and pulled in time with his strokes. Pain and pleasure mixed until I couldn’t tell which was which.
He leaned down, mouth by my ear. “You like being my tied-up fuck toy?” I managed a “Yes Sir” between groans.
He reached between us and started jerking my cock fast, thumb rubbing the head. “Come for me,” he ordered. I shot hard, ropes hitting my chest and stomach while he kept pounding. My ass clenched around him and he groaned, buried deep, and unloaded inside me.
Marcus stayed inside until he softened, then pulled out slow. He unbuckled everything, removed the blindfold and clamps, and rubbed the sore spots with gentle hands. I lay there catching my breath while he wiped me down with a warm cloth. When I could move he helped me sit up and handed me water. We didn’t talk much right away, just sat on the edge of the table, his arm around my shoulders, both of us breathing heavy. The ache in my wrists and the burn in my ass felt good, earned. Marcus kissed the side of my neck once, light. “Same time next week,” he said. I nodded. Already counting the days.
