The room was dim, lit only by a single red bulb that turned every shadow into something hungry. Marcus stood naked in the center, wrists already cuffed behind his back with thick leather. His cock hung heavy, half-hard from anticipation alone. Derek circled him once, slow, the black plastic bag crinkling in his gloved hands like a promise of violence and pleasure.
“On your knees,” Derek said, voice low and flat. No warmth, only command. Marcus dropped. The concrete was cold against his shins. Derek grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back. “Open.” The bag went over Marcus’s head in one smooth motion. Thick, industrial-grade plastic sealed around his neck with a tight leather collar. Air became immediate and limited, each breath fogging the inside of the bag, turning the world into a hazy, shrinking tunnel.
Derek’s boot pressed between Marcus’s spread thighs, nudging his balls. “Breathe slow. I decide when you get more.” Marcus tried. The plastic sucked against his mouth and nose with every inhale, loud and obscene. His cock twitched, filling fast. Derek watched it happen, arms folded, the only sound the rasp of plastic and Marcus’s growing struggle.
When the first real panic flickered, Derek ripped the collar loose just enough for a single deep breath, then snapped it tight again. Marcus’s chest heaved. His cock was fully hard now, leaking at the tip. Derek reached down and smeared the precum over the head with two fingers, slow and deliberate, while Marcus fought for air inside the bag. The plastic clung wetly to his face, outlining his open mouth.
Derek pulled his own cock out, thick and already dripping. He slapped it against Marcus’s bagged cheek, the impact muffled. “You want to suck? Earn it.” He tightened the collar another notch. Marcus’s lungs burned. His vision spotted. Derek held him there until Marcus’s whole body shook, then released the bag just enough that Marcus could shove his face forward and take Derek’s cock into his mouth through the stretched plastic. The sensation was filthy—hot flesh pushing the plastic against his tongue, the taste of latex and skin all at once.
Derek fucked his mouth in short, controlled thrusts, never letting the bag loosen fully. Every time Marcus started to fade, Derek eased the pressure just enough to keep him conscious and desperate. Saliva and precum soaked the inside of the bag, making it cling tighter. Marcus’s cock throbbed untouched, a string of clear fluid hanging from the slit.
Derek hauled him up by the collar and bent him over the padded bench. He kicked Marcus’s legs wider, then taped the bag tighter at the neck with duct tape so both hands were free. Marcus heard the snap of a glove, the wet sound of lube. Two thick fingers pushed into him without warning, scissoring hard. The plastic over his face pulsed with every ragged breath. Derek worked him open fast, adding a third finger, twisting until Marcus’s hole clenched and his cock dripped steadily onto the floor.
When Derek replaced his fingers with his cock, he drove in deep on the first thrust. Marcus’s shout was swallowed by the bag. Derek fucked him in hard, punishing strokes, one hand gripping the taped neck of the bag like a handle, pulling it tighter with every slam. The plastic sealed tighter over Marcus’s mouth and nose. His lungs screamed. His prostate was pounded relentlessly. Pleasure and oxygen deprivation blurred until Marcus was nothing but a body jerking on Derek’s cock, hole fluttering, balls drawn tight.
Derek reached under and wrapped a gloved hand around Marcus’s cock, stroking once, twice, rough. “Come while you can’t breathe.” Marcus’s orgasm hit like a blackout. His cock pulsed hard, shooting across the bench in thick ropes while his vision went white at the edges. Derek kept fucking him through it, using the spasms, then yanked the bag off entirely at the last second.
Marcus dragged in a ragged, sobbing breath. Derek pulled out, flipped him onto his back, and straddled his chest. He stripped the glove off and stroked himself fast, aiming at Marcus’s open mouth. The first spurt landed on his tongue; the rest painted his face and neck. Derek rubbed the head through the mess, smearing it, then pushed two fingers into Marcus’s mouth to make him clean them.
They stayed like that until Marcus’s breathing evened. Derek finally undid the cuffs, wiped him down with a warm cloth, and pulled him upright. Marcus’s legs shook. Derek’s hand stayed on the back of his neck, firm, possessive.
“Next time,” Derek said quietly, “I keep the bag on longer.” Marcus’s spent cock gave a weak twitch. He nodded, already hungry for it.
