The ropes bit deep into Marcus's wrists, pulling his arms high behind his back until his shoulders burned. He hung suspended from the ceiling beam, toes barely brushing the floor, body stretched taut in the dim light of the basement playroom. Derek stood before him, silent and deliberate, the black leather hood already in his hands.
"Deep breath," Derek said, his voice low and commanding. He slipped the clear plastic bag over Marcus's head and sealed it tight around his neck with a wide strip of tape. The world muffled instantly. Marcus's lungs hitched, pulling in the first shallow lungful of his own exhaled air. The bag crinkled softly with each panicked inhale.
Derek circled him slowly, admiring the way the ropes framed every straining muscle. He added another coil around Marcus's chest, cinching it so the next breath came harder. Then he stepped close, pressing his body against Marcus's back, one hand reaching around to stroke the already hard cock jutting forward.
Marcus's vision began to swim at the edges. The bag fogged, then cleared, then fogged again as he fought for oxygen. Every pull of air was smaller than the last. Derek's fist moved in slow, firm strokes, matching the rhythm of Marcus's desperate breathing. Pleasure and panic twisted together until Marcus couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.
When the first black spots appeared, Derek ripped the tape free and yanked the bag off. Cool air flooded in. Marcus gasped, body jerking in the ropes, cock twitching hard in Derek's grip. Derek didn't let him come. He waited until the breathing steadied, then slid the bag back on, sealing it again with fresh tape.
This time he added a noose.
The thick rope looped around Marcus's throat above the bag, the knot positioned just behind his ear. Derek pulled the free end through a pulley and gave it a slow, controlled tug. Marcus rose another inch, weight shifting onto the noose. The pressure was immediate and intimate, a steady squeeze that made the bagged breaths even more precious.
Derek returned to stroking him, now using both hands—one on his cock, the other rolling his balls. Marcus's muffled moans vibrated inside the plastic. His hips tried to thrust, but the ropes and the noose held him still. Every time his body sagged, the noose tightened another fraction. The bag grew hotter, wetter, the air inside turning thick and stale.
Derek watched the signs with practiced eyes. When Marcus's struggles turned frantic, he loosened the noose just enough to let him sag, then peeled the bag away again. Marcus sucked in ragged gulps of air, tears streaking his face, cock leaking steadily onto the floor.
"Again," Derek murmured, and the bag went back on.
The third time lasted longer. Derek added a slow, rhythmic pull on the noose, lifting Marcus until his toes left the ground completely. The combination of the tightening rope at his throat and the shrinking pocket of air inside the bag pushed him deeper into the haze. His cock throbbed untouched now, pulsing in time with his frantic heartbeat. Derek stepped back to watch, arms crossed, letting the predicament do the work.
Marcus's body trembled, muscles locked, every nerve screaming for air while his cock begged for touch. When Derek finally reached out and gave one firm stroke at the base, Marcus came hard, ropes jerking, cum splashing across the floor in thick pulses. The orgasm rolled through him while the bag still sealed his head and the noose still held his weight.
Only after the last spurt did Derek release the noose and tear the bag free. Marcus hung limp, chest heaving, body slick with sweat. Derek lowered him gently to the floor, untying the ropes with careful hands, then gathered him close.
Marcus's voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. "Again. Soon."
Derek kissed his temple, already reaching for the coiled ropes. "As long as you can take it."
