Master eyes the exchange with an amused chuckle, then pats the whipping bench. “Up you go, Dane. Why don’t you show Tyler one of your climbing-out-of-the-pool moves?”
I know what Master wants, what he likes to call my show-off mount. I oblige, of course, pushing up onto the table with flattened palms, posing for several seconds with stiff legs and pointed toes before drawing one knee between my straightened arms.
“Belly up, Dane.” Master runs his hand along my arm, checking on me, connecting before moving on.
“Green, Master,” I tell him even though he didn’t ask.
“Thank you, Dane.” As Master clips my cuffed wrists to the corners of the bench, he draws our visitor into the scene. “You know, Tyler, this is the first time Dane and I have invited anyone to watch us play.” Master’s hands glide down my chest and belly, purposely drawing Tyler’s gaze to the bulge forcing its way through the front of my tights.
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate it,” Tyler says brightly.
“Why don’t you step around here, come in close . . . I want you to have a good view.”
Tyler steps forward until his belly hits the table, leans over my hip, and smiles. My cock twitches, very much against my will. This isn’t the first time Master has used my exhibitionist fetish to get a rise out of me, but it is the first time our audience was actually present and not imagined.
Master laughs out loud. “I know. He is ridiculously hot, right?”
“Yes, sir.” Tyler glances at my expression before returning his focus where Master wants it. Right there.
Just to make sure, Master places his hand on my thigh and squeezes. “My boy loves his audience. Don’t you, Dane?”
There’s no denying it. The proof is sitting right there. Still, voicing it sends a jolt through my body. “Yes, Master.”
“Would you like to tell Tyler how much you like to show off, Dane?”
Master watches me fight with the decision. It would have been so much easier if he’d just commanded the words out of me, but this is my diabolical Master in action. He knows I’ll take the hard way every time.
I turn my head to Tyler and clear my throat. “I, uh . . . like you watching.”
“Nice, Dane. I think that deserves a little reward, don’t you, Tyler?”
Master slips his hand inside the front of my tights and strokes my aching dick. I let loose a moan worthy of YouPorn.
“Damn, Dane. That one went straight to your Master’s cock, thank you very much.”
Tyler clears his throat and shuffles from one foot to the other. Master chuckles again.
“Heh, you too, Tyler?”
“Hmm,” Master says, giving Tyler’s crotch a long stare. “If you’d like to remove those baggy pants, I might allow you a brief adjustment.”
Master teases at the inside of my thighs with both thumbs while Tyler commits to his decision. I’m squirmy, but Master almost seems pleased by it.
Meanwhile, Tyler wastes no time hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats and pushing them down his spindly legs. If I feared my Master would regard Tyler with longing, I see now how needlessly I worried. He measures Tyler with a clinical eye. If I know my Master, his first thought is, how can I put some meat on those bones?
Tyler may be skinny, but his dick is rock hard, straining against his tight, white briefs. Master makes a point of checking him out, too, before giving him the nod.
“Go ahead, boy. But then I want your hands clasped at your back until I ask for your help again.”
“Yes, sir,” Tyler says. The words are barely off his lips before his hand dives down the front of his briefs. His excitement is contagious, or maybe it’s mine. I couldn’t say who started this, but I do know Tyler’s arousal launches my own through the roof.
“Well, boys,” Master says, “I have to admit the two of you are making me a bit hot under the collar as well”—Master runs a finger across his neck—“so to speak.”
Master’s terrible joke makes me roll my eyes, a gesture Master rewards by locking my ankles to the far corners of the bench. “And now it’s time for the main event.” Master’s voice has an ominous tone, but I’m horny enough not to care. “Today, Tyler, we are going to show you how a good dom pushes his sub’s limits, not for his own entertainment but for the benefit of the submissive.”
Master rests his hands on my ankles while he narrates for Tyler. “When I first met Dane, he set a hard limit on tickling.”
Oh holy fuck, no! Master seemingly ignores the panic overtaking me, but he tightens his grasp of my ankles, not that I could move them anyway.
“And even though you lifted your hard limit on this, I’ve steered clear of any prolonged tickling, haven’t I, Dane?”
“Yes, Master, and thank you,” I add, as if I might soften Master with a platitude.
“Today, however,” Master continues, ignoring my feeble attempt, “and with your help, Tyler, I would like to explore this limit and show Dane he can not only tolerate tickling but actually enjoy it. Are you up for helping, Tyler?”
“Yes, sir.” Tyler’s smile nearly leaps right off his face. Well, of course the fucker is up for helping to torture me.
“Dane, I need you to yellow for me if it’s getting to be too much. Understood?”
“Yes, Master. You can count on it.” I fully expect Master will push me to yellow, but I vow to hold out as long as I can.
“Excellent. Tyler, you see that feather duster hanging on the end of the whip rack?”
“Go fetch that for me, please.”
Feathers. My resolve threatens to slip, but I can’t say the same for my arousal. Perhaps Master is onto something here. I guess we’ll all find out shortly. Tyler bounces away toward the far wall, leaving Master a private moment with me.
“How are you enjoying our company, my boy?”
“Very well, thank you, Master.”
“That’s excellent. Don’t forget, Dane. You’re the one in control. Always.”
“Does that mean you’re trading places with me, Master?” A cheeky move for a guy spread-eagled on the whipping bench with the promise of a long tickling scene ahead, but then, Master’s always encouraged my pluck.
He breaks out into a chuckle. I love that Master can rock the serious dom personality any time he wants, but his sense of humor is never far from the surface. Besides, there’s something almost more dangerous to the playful, teasing side I’ve just unleashed, which Master lets me know by running his thumbnail up the sole of my foot. His evil smirk widens as I writhe on the table for him.
“Now, now, Dane. You know you’re enjoying this. Just look at your gorgeous hard-on. Perhaps I should uncover it so you can see it better—so we can all see it better? So you can feel the tickle of the feathers across bare skin?”
There’s only one correct response, the one that makes Master happy. “As you wish, Master.”
“Good thinking, Dane. Ahh, here’s my young apprentice now. You’re just in time, Tyler. Dane was just asking if you could remove his tights.” Master gestures toward my waist in invitation. Well now, there’s a twist!
Tyler must know better than to believe I requested that; nonetheless, he gamely passes the feather duster to Master, freeing up his hands for the task. Tyler pauses to check my expression, perhaps seeking my blessing before carrying out Master’s command.
Even though I’m the one bound to the table, I throw the boy a much-needed bone. “You know Master doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” Get to it, in other words.
The boy grins from ear to ear, reaches across my hips, and grasps the snug waistband of my leggings. His fingertips are live wires against my skin. The heat in Tyler’s eyes could bake an egg on my crotch. Color me excited.
With the utmost care, Tyler peels back the tight band, and my erection pops out like a champion stud let out of the gate. For the love of God, someone touch me!
I push my hips as high as I am able, and Tyler glides the fabric down my thighs, painstakingly avoiding any kind of contact where I need it. Probably for the best; as much as I crave some kind of touch, I don’t think Master would much appreciate the boy copping a feel. Master uncuffs my right ankle, and together, they slide the tights off my foot and leave them dangling around my left ankle.
“You’re turning out to be quite the helper, Tyler.”
“I try, sir.”
“How would you like to try this?” Master swings the feather duster in front of Tyler’s lit-up face.
Naked, fully aroused, tightly clamped into the four corners of the leather bench, and facing a pretty serious limit, I’m feeling a bit vulnerable, to say the least. Tyler is a loose cannon, but Master will not let him harm me.
“Go ahead, Tyler. Pick a spot, any spot, and see how lightly you can tease those feathers across Dane’s skin.”
Tyler heads straight for my armpit, as if privy to some kinky treasure map with the “x” in my most sensitive spot. He shakes the feathers into the deep hollow. Every inch of me fights the bonds.
“Oh, fuck! I can’t . . . !” Fuck, fuck, fuck, am I really gonna yellow already? My ass slams down onto the bench; my breathing is way out of control.
“Ty, move it away.” Master’s firm command provides instant relief.
The tickle stops. Master appears at the head of the table and runs his fingers through my hair. I tip my head back so I can meet his eyes.
“Yellow if you need to, Dane. Remember?”
I shouldn’t be thinking such thoughts, but I can’t help but wonder if Tyler could last longer. “Yes, Master.”
Master raises his hand like an orchestra conductor and gestures for Tyler to lower the tickler again. I huff through every breathing exercise I’ve ever learned in every acting and dance class I’ve ever taken.
“You’re doing great, Dane,” Master says, bending forward to pinch both nipples.
The counterbalance of the pain scrambles my brain enough to get me through without yellowing. Success . . . but not reprieve.
The feathers trickle down my side, making me buck and strain all over again. Since I’ve known Master, I can’t remember ever fighting the bonds this strenuously. I’m all reflex and raw nerve endings. No part of my body is in my control.
Before I can even hope to process the sensations, Tyler catches my ticklish abs, and my right hip slams violently against the table. Master pinches harder. The volume knob takes a sharp turn. A desperate wail emerges . . . Jesus, was that me?
Master’s head jerks up just as the tips of the feathers meet my groin. “No, Ty, not yet,” Master commands. “We have so many other interesting areas to explore.”
Oh god. The mother lode of good-news, bad-news scenarios.
Master redirects the duster over my belly and gives Tyler a nod. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuck! Master presses down on my hip with his palm, but instead of experiencing relief, I just feel more trapped, like ten guys have my naked body pinned to the ground, and all one hundred fingers wander anywhere and everywhere at once.
Fuck, that’s so hot. And Master is quick to point out to all assembled just exactly how much I’m enjoying myself.
“Oh, Dane, I think you’ve been holding out on me. If we didn’t have company, I’d lean right in and lick up that mess you’re making.”
Master’s teasing is the icing on a very confusing cake. On top of the titillating tickle torment, the image of Master’s mouth licking up my leaking tip pulls a low groan from the depths of my belly.
Master chuckles. “You’re only a yellow away from a break, sweet boy.”
I don’t want a break. I want Master to grab my shaft and pump me till I spray the dungeon with spunk. And I’m afraid I might be about to tell him just that.
Master seems to be waiting on an answer I don’t trust myself to deliver. I force out a grunt, which he correctly interprets as a request for further torture. Master lifts an eyebrow. He’s definitely surprised, but I’m too far gone to know whether he’s impressed, worried, or just plain turned on. In any event, the result is the same—Master digs in with both heels.
“Tyler, have I mentioned what a show off my Dane can be?” Master takes Tyler’s wrist and gently lifts until the duster leaves my body.
“Yessir?” Tyler glances at me for answers I certainly don’t have.
“I believe Dane wants to show you how he can continue to rise . . . to the occasion even when we tighten the screws.”
My idiot cock encourages Master with a new salute. The masochistic thrum in my belly warns me I’m in for the worst and best of my torment. What does my diabolical Master have in store for me next?
“A dancer’s feet have to be sensitive . . .”
So that’s his plan. Master guides Tyler to the far end of the table, where my bare feet dangle over the edge, ten little defenseless heads on a tall stalk of exposed flesh. At the mere idea of those feathers running up and down my soles, a shiver tears through my spine.
“Ever so lightly, Ty.”
With the first brush, I know I won’t last. I try to stifle my moan, but Master knows all.
“Hmm, I think we’re onto something now, Ty. Keep that up.”
I can’t see the boy, but I imagine he is having a most excellent time right now, doing Master’s bidding. Tyler starts at my heel and shakes his way up, forcing the tips of the feathers between my toes.
“Ahhhhh . . . fuck!” My balls tingle. My head buzzes. My feet twist and kick to no avail in the restraints. “Master!”
Master holds his hand up to Tyler, and the feathers still. “Dane?”
My brain screams, “YELLOW” but my mouth won’t form the sound. I bite my lip and struggle to catch my breath.
Master shakes his head, and I’m fairly certain it’s admiration I see in his eyes. With a snap of his fingers and a single finger pointed at my groin, Master has Tyler and the hateful feather duster working my shaft and balls. “Now, Ty. Don’t let up unless he safewords.”
Master chuckles. “That doesn’t count.”
Harder, HARDER! It’s maddening! The soft tickle. Touch me! Master and Tyler stare at my cock as if it’s the only thing in the room. They might be having a conversation about it; I can’t focus.
Sunbursts explode in my head . . . “YELLOW!”
The tickle goes away. Master’s warm hand closes over my cock. Sweet, merciful relief.
Stoke, pump, stroke, pump, pump, pump . . .
“C’mon, Tyler. Get right back in here with the feathers!”
My balls! Ho shit! Tickling at my hole!
Tooo good . . . so much pressure. . . head spinning . . . need grounding.
I find Master’s eyes watching my face, the feathers, my dick.
Tyler, too. So fucking intense.
Locked in so tight. Master’s hand. Feathery trails. No escape.
“That’s it, Dane. Give us a show.”
Sparks of light. Heat. A rush of oxygen.Oblivion.
That was dirty. You're welcome.
Okay aside from the filthy parts, I'd love to hear what you thought of Marcus's devious plan. And what happens next?