The Broker: A Breaking-in Story, part 6

mollyinthemirror.jpgThere is something new in his eyes when I remove the blindfold. Where before there was a kind of cocky, smirking confidence underlined by a trace of the fear of the unknown, now there is a wholly baffled, “I don’t know quite where I am, and I’m not sure what I think of this place, but I really need to see more of it,” sort of look. I am pleased by the transition.

I lean in to kiss him, and when I do, it is a deep, demanding sort of kiss and his yielding is more fluid than it was before. There is now a sort of pleading or seeking to it. I wonder if David is noting any of the same changes I am seeing in his friend.

I break our kiss and look into these new-seeing eyes, and note the gold flecks in their green depths for the first time. He is a more complex person than my initial assessment of him indicated. “Jay,” I begin slowly, “I’m going to take you down from there now.” I unfasten the clip from the bar but do not unbind his hands. I hold the chain of the cuffs in my hand. He rolls his shoulders to stretch his stiffened muscles and I allow him a moment to do this before tugging the chain to remind him that he is still under my control. He looks at me quietly, questioning.

“You’ve done very well so far, my cocky one,” I praise him and he smiles. “You’ve shown me that you can trust me, that you have the discipline to do what I tell you, and that you can retain your concentration and not slip away on me.” I stop a moment for him to take in the praise, and so that I can enjoy the small smile that finds its way across his lips. “That is very important because of what comes next. I need you to be fully present, and fully trusting. I think you are ready for that. Do you agree?”

“Yes, I think so,” he tells me.

I give a sharp yank on the cuff chain to throw him off balance while I slap his ass with the flat of my hand. “There is no room for uncertainty, Jay. Either you are ready or you are not.” He stumbles forward.

“Yes, yes, I am ready,” he says quickly. He looks like he is trying not to appear wounded. He had clearly enjoyed the praise I gave him and now seems upset that he’s lost it. So be it. He will have to earn it back. He will be glad for it when he does.

“I think you need more preparation, Jay. But that’s okay,” my voice is soothing with a touch of sternness. “I know this is new to you. I can be patient with you.” I lead him by the chain back over to the bench. “Stand here,” I direct him. I press his hips against the narrow end of the leather padded bench and push his back down so that his body is prone and his feet are on the floor. I stand behind him and indulge myself a moment, running my hands over his back and his ass and his thighs. I kick his feet a bit further apart and kneel down to fasten each one to a foot of the bench. While down there, I reach up between his legs and feel for his cock. It has lost some of its stiffness, which pleases me, actually, as I draw it downward so that it is pressed, down, between his body and the bench. As he gets hard again there should be some very interesting pressure building there as his cock will want to rise but will find itself trapped.

To foreshadow this effect, I let my fingers play around the head of his cock, massaging it a bit through the slippery foreskin. He moans involuntarily and I feel the pressure building. I stop, abruptly, and rake my fingernails roughly along his inner thighs before standing again.

I move around the bench to the front, where I am able to look him in the eyes again. He has to look up sharply in order to meet my eyes, and he does this, and he seems in awe at his position, and at the sensations that are washing over him at my direction. I take a leather strap from my end of the bench and I attach it to the center clip on the chain of his cuffs. I draw it toward me, fastening it tightly to a ring at my end of the bench. I pull it tight enough that he has absolutely no play in the chain or the strap. He is now pinned at three points, unable to move.

“Jay, Jay,” I murmur, “Do you know how beautiful you are right now”” I admire his strong back, his tight, exposed ass, his lean thigh muscles, his taut calves. I admire the strength in his arms, as he tests the restraint. “David,” I call to his friend softly. “Have you ever seen Jay in such a position? So strong and yet so helpless?”

“Molly, I have never seen anything remotely like this, and I certainly never imagined Jay in such a position,” he says. And then, almost as an afterthought that he can’t help, he adds, “Though I can imagine some people at the office who would be immensely gratified to see him like this!” Jay groans and David laughs. “Don’t worry, my friend, there’ll be no photos. Trust me!”

“David,” I interrupt, “Will you please hand me that flogger?” David brings me my green suede flogger. It is small and easy to handle. It has a dozen foot-long thin suede strips that can be used to tickle or to sting. It is one of my favorite toys. I show it to Jay, holding it across my two open hands. I lean over and kiss him again, lightly, lips just brushing his. He strains forward for more but I don’t give him any more. “Not just yet, darling, not just yet.”

I lightly trail the suede strips along his back, brushing his sides, sweeping over his ass and tickling his thighs. “I’m going to start lightly,” I tell him, “but I’m going to build up to painful. Remember, ‘stop’ is not a safeword.”

I begin with a volley of light slaps so that he begins to get a feel for the flogger. Then I toss in a harder crack every fourth blow. The music in the background provides exactly the right the rhythm. An additional irony: the song, “Wave that takes me under,” begins with the line “It’s strange to sit and watch myself do the things I never thought I’d do…” and I wonder if Jay caught the words.

His ass and his thighs are taking on a gorgeous redness now and I alter my pattern somewhat. Now I give him four hard blows, two to each thigh, then a break as I reach between his legs and stroke the tip of his cock, pressed so tightly between the bench and his body. Then four hard cracks against his ass and another stroke between his legs. With every flinch he presses himself harder against he bench. Soon I am flogging him, hard, with each beat of the “The wave” and I know his cock is straining to be erect though I haven’t touched it now for many, many beats. His gasps and moans blend into the music and I imagine that a listener would think it was all just one glorious soundtrack.

~ by Molly Montrevoir on April 21, 2007.

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