The room smelled of leather and sweat, the air thick with the weight of unspoken rules. Marcus stood over the bound man on the padded table, his presence alone enough to tighten the restraints already circling Derek’s wrists and ankles. Derek’s body was stretched out, every muscle defined under the low light, his cock already half-hard from the anticipation that had built since he first knelt at Marcus’s feet an hour earlier.
Marcus ran a gloved hand down Derek’s chest, pressing just hard enough to make the ropes creak. “You asked for this,” he said, voice low and steady. “No safe word tonight unless you truly need it. You give me your air, and I decide when you breathe again.”
Derek’s throat worked as he swallowed. His nod was small, but it carried the full weight of his submission. Marcus picked up the clear plastic bag from the side table. It crinkled softly in his hands, a sound that made Derek’s cock twitch visibly. Without ceremony, Marcus slipped the bag over Derek’s head and sealed it at the neck with a thick leather collar already buckled in place. The plastic sucked inward with Derek’s first sharp inhale.
The power exchange settled like a physical thing between them. Marcus watched the bag fog, then clear, then fog again as Derek fought to control his breathing. Every rise of the chest pulled the plastic tighter against his face, outlining his parted lips and flared nostrils. Marcus’s own arousal pressed against his leather pants, but he ignored it for now. This moment belonged to control, not release.
He tightened the ropes at Derek’s thighs, spreading him wider, then traced a single finger along the underside of Derek’s balls. Derek jerked, the movement making the bag pull sharply against his face. A soft, muffled sound escaped him. Marcus smiled, dark satisfaction curling in his chest. He leaned down and dragged his tongue across one nipple, biting just enough to make Derek arch. The plastic bag stretched and contracted faster now.
Minutes stretched.
Marcus added a blindfold over the bag, layering sensation with deprivation. He worked Derek’s cock in slow, deliberate strokes, never enough to push him over, only enough to keep him straining. Each time Derek’s hips lifted, Marcus pressed them back down with a firm palm on his stomach. The bag grew wetter inside from Derek’s breath. Marcus could see the faint outline of Derek’s open mouth pressed against the plastic, desperate for air that Marcus controlled.
When he finally loosened the collar enough to let fresh air rush in, Derek gasped hard, chest heaving. Marcus removed the bag only long enough to replace it with a fresh one, sealing it again. “You don’t come until I say,” he reminded him, voice calm and absolute. “Your orgasm belongs to me the same way your breath does.”
He mounted the table, straddling Derek’s hips. The leather of his pants brushed Derek’s straining erection. Marcus ground down slowly, letting Derek feel the heat and weight of him while the bag continued its cruel rhythm. Derek’s fingers curled against the ropes. His body trembled with the effort of staying still, of offering everything. Marcus reached behind himself and slicked his own hole with lube from a bottle on the table, then lowered onto Derek’s cock in one controlled motion.
The tight heat drew a muffled moan from inside the bag. Marcus rode him with measured rolls of his hips, never fast, never frantic. Each downward stroke forced air from Derek’s lungs, making the plastic cling harder to his face. Marcus watched the way Derek’s throat worked, the way his stomach fluttered. He leaned forward, hands braced on Derek’s bound chest, and rode harder, letting the power flow through every movement.
Sweat slicked their bodies. The only sounds were the wet slide of flesh, the creak of rope, and the soft, rhythmic crinkle of plastic. Marcus felt Derek’s cock throb inside him, close to the edge. He stopped moving, clenching deliberately around the shaft to hold him there without release.
“Not yet,” Marcus said. He lifted the edge of the bag just enough for one deep breath, then sealed it again. Derek’s body shook with the denied orgasm. Marcus resumed the slow grind, building the tension until Derek’s entire frame was rigid with the need to obey.
When Marcus finally allowed it, he did so with a single growled command: “Now.” Derek came hard, the orgasm ripped from him in pulses that Marcus rode through without mercy. The bag collapsed and expanded wildly with Derek’s ragged breathing. Marcus followed seconds later, spilling across Derek’s stomach while still impaled on him.
Only then did he remove the bag. Derek’s face was flushed, eyes glassy with the intensity of the exchange. Marcus unbound him slowly, rubbing circulation back into each limb, then pulled him into his arms on the table. Derek pressed his face against Marcus’s chest, breathing freely now, the power still humming between them like a live wire.
Marcus stroked his hair. “You did well,” he murmured. “You gave me everything.” Derek’s answering nod was small but certain, the kind of surrender that only deepened the bond between them. Outside, the night continued, but inside the room the only thing that mattered was the shared rhythm of their breathing and the quiet certainty that the next time Marcus sealed the bag, Derek would offer his air again without hesitation.
