Closet Trick in a Suit

By Clyde

Part One

Back in the day of phone line hook ups, when the internet was still just a gleam, I had been chatting with this guy who sounded very hot but something didn’t feel exactly right so I had never arranged the final hook.  I couldn’t put my finger on it, but my instincts told me to steer clear.  Sure enough, I was talking to a bud about him when my friend figured out that he knew this boy and his less than stellar reputation (only took one day and some amateur sleuthing to be absolutely sure).  My wanna-be trick worked for a brokerage downtown, loved taking cock in his ass, mouth and throat and promised to be a real pig, but played it very straight in public, even going so far as to harass the out gay guy in his office.

He had the requisite live-in girlfriend, etc., and represented all the trappings of the closeted, self-loathing double-life fag the rest of us were trying to get away from.  My bud did confirm that “porky-to-be” was pretty hot with a bodybuilder build, but also that he was about 5 inches shorter than he had told me.

Hmm … not someone I needed in my life.  Wrote him off and moved on.

But he wouldn’t take a hint.  Or a flat-out statement that I wasn’t interested.  Or being ignored.  Kept pestering me, up to five times a day for the next month, promising to be the best slave I ever had, I can do whatever I want, no limits pain pig — blah, blah, blah.  Finally, after hearing of a particularly mean trick he played on the gay guy at his office, I decided to use his begging to teach him a lesson.

We set a date and I instructed him to arrive directly from work (he could clean up at my place, etc. ) .  On the day, after the doorman buzzed him in, I hung a blindfold on the outside of my door and left a note telling him to put it on, knock and wait.

He must have liked that because when I opened the door (almost 2 minutes later), there he was, all 5’3, 180 lbs of him dressed in his designer suit, designer haircut, designer watch, shoes, tan, wearing the blindfold and grinning from ear to ear.  Eager beaver he was.  If he had had a tail, it would be up and beating the breeze.  And, even in all that clothing, I could tell he was built as promised, if a little overly big.  I would enjoy playing with his body if nothing else.

I led him in, but instead of letting him undress or clean up, I quickly tied his hands behind his back.  He started to protest but I explained that I always interviewed my new boys this way and kept him moving.  I led him through the apartment until he was standing under the cross beam that was the center of my play space. I turned him so he faced the mirrors and got to work.  While I asked a series of inane questions about his likes, dislikes, etc., (in order to distract him, I could care less about his needs/likes), I pulled his right leg to the side and tied it to a nearby support.  Before he could comprehend what was happening, I had done the same with the left.  Now he was going nowhere and it was time for the blindfold to come off.

Once his eyes adjusted, he found himself in a black, seemingly empty room, with the only light source directed at his face and body.  He looked at his reflection in the mirror, obviously liking what he saw and then nearly fell over trying to turn and get sight of me after I snapped my belt.  I let him squirm a little as he tested the restraints but kept out of sight, letting his anxiety grow.  After he gave up on seeing me in the darkness and returned to his own image, I stepped up and stood right behind him.  I’m 6’2” and towered over him.  I added to the effect by wearing my Dehners, which gave me an extra 2 inches of height, black leather jeans, no shirt (I’m in pretty good shape), leather cowboy hat and reflectors.  The aforementioned belt was prominently displayed in my hands.  I took a couple of swats at his ass with the well-worn leather (which he responded eagerly to) and quickly built in strength and speed until he was whining and had nearly fallen face forward trying to avoid the now stinging reports.

“Hmm … you need a little more support don’t you.” I quietly said.  He started to half-heartedly protest (the tent in his dress pants said otherwise) so I told him to shut up or I would gag him.  He obeyed quickly (good sign).  I took another length of rope, tied it around the ropes at his wrists and then looped this over the cross bar above his head.  I didn’t pull his arms too high, as I wanted to play this out a bit.  I let him test his limits in the new position and stopped him just as he started to speak, this time by putting my hands over his mouth and nose, effectively cutting off his air.  I was holding him in a bear hug as well, which compounded his sense of confinement.  He startled a bit, but quickly settled down after I assured him that I would remove my hands if he would keep quiet.  He stopped struggling and his muscles relaxed.  I checked his wrists, asking him if the ropes were cutting off his circulation and when he started to natter, I slapped his ass hard, telling him a “Yes Sir” or “No Sir” were all I required.  He answered “No, Sir!  They are fine.”  After a few more follow up questions, I was confident he would be able to remain like this for the time I needed.  Then I continued with the belting through his suit pants and coat until he was building up a good sweat and doing a little dance to try and avoid the stings (also got in a little paddling— there is something about the sound of a hard paddle on a boy’s ass).

Now that he was warmed up, I set the strap aside and started to explore his body through his suit.  First his chest (very hard and defined, oversized pecs with tight, firm nipples), then his legs (same) and finally his ass and crotch.  I guess with all the mirrors in most gyms he had found his ideal environment and taken advantage of it.  He had started groaning when I tweaked his nipples and he was still rock hard (good sized dick for a small guy) so all systems were go.  I gave his balls a couple of slaps to remind him it wasn’t about his pleasure but mine and pulled his shirt out of his pants.

I went right for those nipples from under his dress shirt and tee.  Squeezing, twisting and pulling, only removing my hand to slap his ass when he tried to speak.  He was getting off on this and spent a good deal of time admiring himself in the mirror while he moved, groaned and pretended to complain.   Once I had worked his nips to the point where he was starting to grimace for real, I dropped my hands to his waist, undid his belt and zipper and dropped his pants.  Some sort of commemorative boxers greeted me.  While this would usually be a “boner-killer” it somehow fit the situation considering my plans.  I leaned down on him so my head was right at his ear and my upper body was resting on his back, putting even more strain on his balance.  I started aiming my exhale into his ears, knowing it would be frustrating and allowed my body to rest on his so he had to carry more and more weight in his awkward position.  After mauling his dick and balls for a while (crushing is the adjective in my mind), I moved to his ass.  Big, melon shaped, muscle ass.  Hard as a rock and quivering ever so slightly.  I slapped it through the cheap material of the shorts, squeezed his cheeks hard and pressed my crotch up against the crack, mock humping him, letting him feel the size my dick while watching the smile return to his face as he returned the motion in kind.

I retied the rope from his hands to the ceiling hiking them as high as possible which forced him to bend over so he now had to strain to look in the mirror.  I took his suit coat, pulled it up over his back between his arms and over his head making it even harder for him to see himself.  I pulled the sleeves of the coat up towards his biceps so they were bunched at his elbows, which limited any movement.  I treated his dress shirt the same way (I think I must have ripped it open as I was finding buttons for at least a month . ) .  His shirt was quite damp because he was now sweating a great deal. Then I grabbed the ass seam of those boxers in both hands and ripped it open.  I pushed my hands in and started searching for his hole.  He clamped his ass shut in a vain attempt to protect himself, but thought better and opened it up to me after a threat of more paddling and a particularly hard squeeze of his balls (gave him a few swats with the paddle anyway, just to get the point across and because I love to paddle ass.  Nothing better than a freshly paddled and reddened boy butt to fuck . ) .   He started to jabber again, and I told him that he had wasted his last warning, he was going to be gagged now.

I went to the bathroom to prepare my favorite gag.  Half an old tube sock, which I placed in the sink and then pissed on.  Squeezed it out as dry as possible (very important that it be dry damp with no loose moisture which could cause the bottom to gag), rolled it up tight, cut end in the middle and toe on the outside (no loose strings either) and then bent it in half.  Grabbed the sports tape I had laid out and returned to my prey.  He was trying to push the coat and shirt off his head, but I got there before he succeeded.  I grabbed his head from under his clothes, by his hair, pulled it up, shoved the rolled up sock into its open mouth and proceeded to tape it in.  After the initial surprise, it started to bite into the soft, warm, damp (and very flavorful) material realizing it could bite as much as it wanted but also realizing it could make no sound.

Part of why I like this gag is that it really fills the mouth, but isn’t made of hard material and is moist (warm water works too if you are dealing with a novice), and the bottom can wear it for a long time with no ill effects.  I had drunk a lot of water/beer for the last two days just to be nice (I’m a softy … screw me), so I don’t think he was able to discern the taste (my original plan included pissing on him, in his mouth and ass and his suit till he was soaked through and releasing him in the parking lot of the most popular mall, but that fell by the wayside ) .   I would tell him later what the gag was soaked in.  Back to business, coat back over his head and time to play with that hole.

I started by putting on rubber gloves and probing rather harshly at his honey pot while roughly jerking his dick with my other hand.  He was breathing heavily now, sweating quite a bit with several stains appearing on the suit as well as begging for some lube (fat chance ) .   Sweat was also running down his back from under his tee and into his ass crack (love a self lubricated ass to answer your question ) .   I took my hand that was in front back up to his nipples and gave them a few more hard squeezes and twists and let him writhe and squirm to his heart’s content while forcing his hole open with the other.  He couldn’t get loose, couldn’t make any noise, couldn’t get free but was certainly enjoying himself as his rock hard, dripping dick testified and now his suddenly eager ass was threatening to suck my hand/arm/torso in.

Part Two

Now it was time to fuck.  I grabbed a lightly lubricated rubber (I wanted him to really feel this so no extra grease ) ,  returned and whispered in his ear to be as still as possible because I was going to enter in one thrust.  Before he could process this, I shoved my thick, 8 inches into his ass up to the hilt (might have forgotten nay additional lube ) .   His back arched and he tried to push me off, but I held tight.  I spoke to him very firmly and quietly, explaining that I wasn’t going to pull out until I had cum so he might as well relax and take it.  After a couple more failed attempts to push me off, and a half-hearted attempt to scream, he calmed down and I started a slow, steady motion.  Shortly thereafter, he started to moan in agreement and was soon pushing his ass back onto me in rhythm as we both increased our speed.  Boy was a perfect fuck toy.  Ass like butter.   Nirvana.

After a while, I decided to up the ante. I reached around and grabbed his tie, pulling it tight as well as pulling his head further down.  I didn’t pull it tight enough to cut off his air, but enough to shift his concentration.  I pushed his shirt back over his shoulders followed by his soaked undershirt, stretching the tee over his head, which pinned his coat and dress shirt in place.  He couldn’t see anything except perhaps part of the floor (he was very much in love with his reflection and I’m sure he was disappointed not to be allowed to watch ) .   This also created a hot, claustrophobic and moist space for his head and his breathing was growing heavier by the minute.  As if I needed any more reason to be hard.

I was now free to abuse his exposed chest, ass and back and spent some time slapping, punching and pounding his upper body. Each hit caused him to grab my dick with his ass (I have to get a cattle prod).  I had to stop myself from cumming a couple of times.  I grabbed the waterproof marker I had laid out and wrote some choice insults on his bare back (juvenile I know, but fuck it ) .   Soon I added forceps tit-clamps to his nips, starting them at the second setting.  He was groaning like a mare in heat at this point and pushing his ass back on my dick almost as hard as I was pushing it in.  Using the forceps as “reins” I rode and fucked for another 15 minutes or so, tightening the forceps once to the third slot.  Finally, I freed one of my hands and moved it to his cock to jerk him off.

I love for the boy to shoot first (if I’m going to allow him to shoot ) .   This way he realizes when I eventually cum, after all the discomfort he has felt from being fucked, after shooting his load, that the scene truly is all about me and my pleasure and not him.  He responded quickly to my hands and it didn’t take long for my little eager beaver to shoot.

And he shot and shot and shot.  Huge load, which I managed to aim right at the crotch of his dress pants, which were stuck around his knees.  Once the majority of his load was spent, I left his dick to continue to drip into his crotch and moved my hand to his balls, which I cupped and squeezed hard.  I held my grip while he recoiled and tried to pull away, which caused his ass to tighten even more around my dick.  I kept this position for almost a minute while watching his load soak into the light colored summer suit and enjoying his discomfort.  Now, I started thrusting with earnest, twisting the clamps, squeezing his balls and noting that he was no longer moaning in pleasure but his groans had taken on a hint of pain (actually more than a hint) … just the way I like it (If he cries, I’ll be in heaven … tears are a bonus . ) .   I tightened the forcep tit clamps (now set at the last notch) and twisted them nearly 180 degrees, which caused him to grab my dick with his ass in a near death grip.  I gave him a few more hard thrusts and felt myself explode deep into his hole.

Knowing how uncomfortable he was by this point (and wanting to prolong his agony), I lingered until I was sure my entire load was spent and his breathing had steadied a little, his ass muscles had relaxed some and I was sure he realized and conceded that I controlled the situation and him.  Then, after what must have seemed like hours to the boy, I very slowly pulled out (centimeter by centimeter — I made him count it ) .   I quickly removed one of the forceps without warning (he jumped like he had been shot and actually made noise through the gag) and then teased the second clamp off, one slot at a time, talking him through it and making him fear each step, threatening to yank it off as well, put them both back on, etc., and telling him how I was going to squeeze both nipples mercilessly once the clamps were off — which I did, much to my delight and his distress.  I wiped my soiled, rubber covered dick (never did let him clean up before we started) on the remains of those “I love Jersey” printed shorts, pulled the rubber off, tied the open end in a knot, pulled his suit pants back up over the now nasty shreds of underwear and his greasy, shitty, stinky, sweaty cheeks and pushed the filled rubber into one of the back pockets and the rubber gloves into the other.  I pulled his shirt(s) off his head, sort of tucked them in and roughly fastened his pants and belt.  Finally, after pulling his now wrinkled and sweat-stained coat back to its proper place, I loosened his silk tie, noting that the color had run all over his white shirt collar from his sweaty neck.  I get hard from the memory.

I had been slowly releasing the rope that held his hands to the cross bar and finally freed him (with hands still tied behind his back) so he could stand erect and softly told him how I knew what a jerk he was (in detail) and that I had a friend in his office who would be reporting back to me if he didn’t make an attitude adjustment.  I had video and audio taped our scene just in case he needed to be reminded of what a big old cock loving, cum begging, ass wipe queen he really was as further motivation and proof if it was needed.  His eyes were wide, serious and a little scared but I could see he got the message. I let him know that we would not “out” him if he behaved himself and he nodded his understanding.  I untied his feet, removed the gag (I don’t think I ever did tell him it was soaked in my piss — my bad) and led him to the door.  He started to speak and I slapped his ass one more time, forgetting about the rubber in his pocket, which I’m pretty sure burst, spilling into the wool.  At the door, I removed the ropes from his wrists and pushed him out, quickly shutting the door behind him, as I wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about the afternoon.  I listened, heard him shuffle a bit and then heard him walk down the hall and buzz the elevator.  I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening wondering how he would explain all the stains and rips to his GF (not to mention the “I love dick up my ass,” which was written on his back in permanent black ink . ) .   Images and thoughts I carry to this day, which always make me smile.

A few days later, I got a call from him, begging me for another session.  Telling me that our afternoon was the hottest thing he had ever done, I’d rocked his world, blah, blah, blah.  It took months for him to stop calling, even though I never responded to any of his attempts.  On the bright side, I never heard of him being a brat at work again.

A couple of years later, I found him bartending, at a new leather bar in town.  He was still at the brokerage, but no longer closeted, etc., (practically stripped, straddled the bar and begged me to ruin his ass on the spot) and said he credited me with showing him the error of his ways (he was a talker — gags were invented for boys like this ) ,  and if I were ever looking for a full time slave, etc., etc.  While tempting, it was an offer I passed on.

A year or so after that, my new full-time slave and I did bring him home with us one night on the suggestion of another Sir I trusted.  Good advice.  Someone had trained the little shit well, and this time he nearly rocked my world … once I got him to shut up and use his mouth for something useful. The next morning, after he drank his breakfast, I dug out the tape of our first meeting.  After watching it together (him happily plugged, gagged and hogtied at my feet), he begged me to re-create the scene.

I was two steps ahead of him, already planning new tortures for my/his enjoyment.

 

THE END

 

Metalbond would like to thank Clyde for this story.

 

 

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