When Clark came to and realized he was blindfolded and cuffed, that was when he started to quietly worry about his predicament. The last thing that he remembered was hiding in the alleyways of a seedier district in Metropolis, waiting to see if his lead paid off.
He had been investigating rumors of a new player in the Metropolis underworld, someone being dubbed “The Knight” for his ruthless efficiency that was tempered with a sort of code of honor not quite found in the criminal gangland these days. It had taken lots of hard work and many, many dead ends before his latest lead had seemed to miraculously fall into his lap. Clark had suspected it to be too good to be true, but had gone ahead to investigate anyway.
He supposed, it really had been too good to be true.
Clark startled. He hadn’t known that there was someone here – wherever “here” was – with him. The voice was distinctly male, a low, rumbling growl of a predator. Clark felt very acutely like prey, and had to suppress a reactive shiver.
He heard footsteps coming his way, and had the feeling that the measured, heavy tread was for his benefit. Considering how he hadn’t known that the other man was in the room (well, he assumed it was a room), Clark’s gut instinct was that this man was normally as silent as a wraith. The footsteps came to a stop somewhere behind Clark and in the next moment, Clark was being bodily hauled upright from his prone position on the floor. As he scrambled to regain his footing, he couldn’t help but note that this stranger was strong to be able to manhandle Clark, who was 6’1” and packed a fair bit of muscle for someone with a quasi-desk job, in this manner.
Then there was a hard point digging into his back and the man murmured, voice ghosting across Clark’s left ear, “Do as I say, and no sudden movements.”
The warning was all too clear.
Then Clark was being directed to walk. He shuffled carefully ahead, following the man’s instructions, which were surprisingly detailed, as if in consideration for his blindfolded state. The walk felt indeterminately long, and he was acutely aware of the warm breath wafting across his skin in a parody of intimacy, the unyielding press of a muscular body along his back that was juxtaposed against what was likely the barrel of a gun pressed against him as a warning.
Finally, they came to a stop. “Kneel.”
Clark stiffened, balking even though there was a part of him insisting loudly to follow the stranger’s order. It wouldn’t do him any good to die here.
“I said, kneel,” the man repeated, a hard edge entering his previously deceptively cordial voice.
Before Clark could even decide if he was going to comply, his knees were being knocked out from under him and he fell, landing heavily on his knees. He was only saved from a full out sprawl face-first onto the cold and unforgiving floor by his captor, who had gotten a hold of the back of his shirt and was hauling him upright with the cloth. The grip was pulling his shirt tight against his throat, and it felt as if it would soon cut off his air supply. Then there was a press of cool metal against Clark’s temple, and all thoughts about oxygen quickly fled his mind.
“Next time, you’re not going to enjoy the consequences of disobeying my orders, Mr Kent.”
His captor’s tone was silky smooth as he spoke into Clark’s ear, as if he weren’t threatening grievous harm. It sounded more like he was whispering secrets to a lover, and in the low growl of his voice, it added a hint of dirty suggestiveness to his words. Clark swallowed, throat suddenly very, very dry.
The other man tightened his grip on Clark’s collar, letting him feel the press of slow suffocation for a moment, before releasing him. Clark swayed forward slightly, but managed not to tip over even as he inhaled audibly to satisfy his body’s need for air. He heard the sounds of his captor settling down in front of him, perhaps in a chair. Then there was a wisp of movement, a hiss of fabric, and the blindfold slid away from his eyes.
Clark blinked rapidly, his eyes taking time to adjust to the dim, reddish hue of the lighting. He was, as he’d suspected, in a room. Someplace underground, he guessed, for there did not appear to be windows from his quick glance around the parts of the room he could see without resorting to obviously turning his head from side to side to take in his surroundings. Then he focused his vision on his captor.
The first thing he noticed was that the man was in all white. Well, Clark assumed it was white, what with the red tint that the lights in the room cast on everything it shone on. It was definitely a pale color, and if this was the Knight he had been chasing, it stood to reason that this new mysterious player in Metropolis was aware of his reputation and, perhaps, even encouraging it. The suit looked expensive and it fit the man as if it had been specially tailored for his broad chest and powerful-looking thighs. It also appeared to be in an entirely too pristine state, the striped monochrome tie not even the slightest bit askew, for how its owner had manhandled Clark mere moments before. His captor was leaning back against the plush armchair he was seated in, one foot propped up on his knee in a manner that seemed to make him appear larger, self-assured, and all the more dangerous for it. The man’s expression was placid, dark eyes coolly assessing Clark even as he gave nothing of himself away beyond his imposing physical appearance – a classically handsome face with a strong, chiselled jaw, dark hair styled simply but elegantly as if there was no need to overtly accentuate any of his entirely too good-looking features.
There was, perhaps most importantly, also a gun in the man’s hand and he had one finger resting unconcernedly on the trigger. The very same gun that had forced Clark into grudging compliance. Even though the barrel was pointing towards the ceiling at the moment, Clark felt a frisson of unease. Everything about this man suggested that he was confident in his power and had absolutely no qualms about using it in whichever way he deemed fit. He looked as if there was nothing out of the ordinary to have someone trussed up on their knees before him. Perhaps to this man, it was normal.
“Clark Joseph Kent,” the man spoke, breaking the silence. “Intrepid reporter for The Daily Planet. I’ve been hearing things about you. Mostly about how you’re busy sticking your nose into things that are none of your business.”
Clark opened his mouth, ready to rebuke the man. But the man went on without giving Clark the chance.
“You’ve been a particularly persistent thorn in my side, no matter how much I tried to deflect your attentions or lead you to dead ends. For all that you’re a pain in my operations, I must say that I became rather… intrigued. I wanted to meet you.”
Clark snorted, unable to help his reaction. “Right. I suppose this is how you always meet people. By kidnapping them and tying them up at your feet?”
The Knight – and Clark was certain of the man’s identity now even without an actual introduction – gave Clark a slow, thorough onceover. The Knight’s gaze seemed to burn Clark as it slid up his body, especially where it lingered for a tortuously long moment over his crotch, before their eyes met. A smirk pulled up the corner of the other man’s lips at that precise moment, and Clark felt a wash of heat rush over him.
Clark knew he wasn’t bad looking. But he also wasn’t the kind of person who got such intense onceovers, as if the other person was barely restraining themselves from getting him naked in the shortest possible time. To have that kind of attention directed onto him was new, and despite who it was from… not really all that unpleasant.
“Only the special ones. The ones who enjoy it.”
“Well, I’m certainly not enjoying this.”
The Knight raised an eyebrow. “I highly doubt that, Mr Kent.”
There was a slight thud as the man lowered his foot back to the floor, dark leather impacting on cold concrete, and Clark fought hard not to react to it. He was practically kneeling in the vee made by his captor’s legs now, and with the words he’d just heard… Well, the picture he was piecing together had most definitely not been anywhere close to his ideas of a worst-case scenario when he had set out on pursuing this particular lead. Or, frankly, any scenario. Ever.
He looked away from his kidnapper’s eyes, but found his gaze drawn unerringly to the Knight’s crotch instead. It could be a trick of the dim lighting, an artful play of the shadows, but Clark was fairly certain that there was a bulge there. Clark swallowed, and shifted his gaze away hurriedly. But it seemed that his captor had noticed all the same.
“You’re a fascinating man, Mr Kent-”
“I’m really not.”
“-mild-mannered and all, but you’re surprisingly tenacious when you think you’re on to something. And you have a lot more spunk than I gave you credit for. I wanted to meet you. Now, I’m beginning to think that I’d like to keep you.”
Clark stared, certain that he must have heard wrongly. It made no sense. If he were truly bothering the Knight’s operations, why would the man even want him around? If he were planning to keep his identity a secret, there was no explanation for why he was showing Clark his face. Not unless he was going to kill Clark after all of this. Yet, for some reason, Clark didn’t think the Knight was going to kill him if he could help it, threat of the gun or not. The man was mystifying.
He jolted slightly as calloused fingers trailed lightly across his jaw.
“You really shouldn’t gape at me like this, Mr Kent. With a pretty mouth like that, it gives a man… ideas.”
There was a noticeably raspier quality to the other man’s voice, which even Clark could read as barely disguised lust. He snapped his mouth shut and tilted his head back, trying to evade the Knight’s exploratory touches. However, the action only served to bare his throat to touch as those same fingers proceeded to dance down his neck and alight on the front of his shirt instead.
A sharp tug on his shirtfront, and Clark made the split-second decision to shuffle forward on his knees, instead of falling forwards which would probably be the intended outcome. He was quite certain that he would’ve ended up face-first in the other man’s crotch otherwise. Despite the direction that this encounter appeared to be headed towards, he was going to stall for as long as it was possible.
Still, he was definitely much closer to the other man than before, and at this distance, he could tell that his captor was… interested.
“I’m being quite serious here, Mr Kent,” the Knight murmured as his thumb traced idle circles on the exposed skin of Clark’s neck. “I think I’d like to keep you forever.”
There was a strange tick of emotion in those words, and Clark blinked. He looked up, trying to see if he could obtain further insight into that silver of emotion that he thought he heard from the Knight’s expression. He thought that there was a hint of gentleness, a sort of vulnerability, but it was gone in a blink of an eye and Clark wondered if he’d imagined it.
When the other man next spoke, his voice was steady again, not a hint of incongruous emotion in it. “It would be in your best interests to comply with my wishes.”
Clark forced himself not to be cowed as he looked the other man squarely in the eye. “And what would they be?”
The man’s lips twitched upwards slightly, and Clark had the strangest feeling that his bravado had impressed and amused the Knight in equal measure. Then Clark gasped as a firm pressure was applied to his crotch and a wicked smirk lit up the other man’s face. The man’s fingers slid up Clark’s neck, keeping his chin tilted upwards and then a thumb was brushing against Clark’s lips, tracing the shape of them once, twice, before questing inwards. Clark tried to keep his lips pressed firmly together, but the shrewd application of the slightest friction from the Knight’s shoe caused Clark to let out another involuntary noise, and the thumb slipped past his parted lips.
Arousal curled low in his gut, a slowly building flame with each ebb and flow of inexorable pressure against his clothed cock. The sensation of a thumb languidly exploring his mouth, as if conducting some sort of inspection, added to a conflicting burn of humiliation that, nevertheless, seemed to be very effective in fanning the unwilling flames of his arousal. He tried to squirm back, but that only served to drag his rapidly stiffening cock against the layers of his clothes, against the shoe settled proprietarily between his thighs. A burst of pleasure shot through his nerves at the dance of friction and Clark moaned softly, unable to help himself. Through half-lidded eyes, he saw smug satisfaction mingle with lust in the Knight’s dark eyes.
“For now,” the other man drawled, “You’re going to suck my cock, and you’re going to enjoy it.”
It was said with such certainty, as if it were fact, and Clark was helpless against the tidal wave of shameful arousal that swept through his body.
“No…” he protested, his voice coming out weak and uncertain. It only made the Knight’s smile widen in amusement, as if he knew that Clark was lying and not even doing a very good job of it.
He shivered then, and knew that the tremoring of his body was felt by the other man who still had a hand on him. The Knight seemed to take it as a cue to pull his thumb out from Clark’s mouth, letting the pad drag a wet line to the side of Clark’s cheek. Clark was faintly appalled at himself for the strange sense of bereavement that welled up inside of him at that loss of contact. He barely registered hearing a metallic chink as if something was being set aside, and instead, found himself watching, enraptured, as that same hand that had been teasing him joined its partner in undoing the belt the Knight was wearing. The belt slid free of the loops with a hiss of leather against cloth, and Clark swallowed as the Knight seemed to study Clark’s neck intently whilst idly playing with the belt in his hands.
“You would look very pretty with a leather collar around your throat,” the other man murmured. After another long moment of studying Clark, as if imagining said collar around his throat, the Knight let the belt drop carelessly to the floor. “But not tonight. We’ll keep things nice and simple this time.”
“I… don’t think there’s anything nice about this,” Clark managed to croak out, his mouth feeling unaccountably dry.
“Well, we haven’t gotten to the good part yet.”
Then the Knight was undoing the front of his trousers, revealing his thick cock. From the bulge that Clark had seen when it was still covered, Clark had expected the man to be fully erect. Now he knew that he was wrong. The Knight was definitely interested, but he had yet to reach full hardness and Clark could only stare and try to process the mess of feelings that he was suddenly experiencing. There was some trepidation, because though he had experimented in his youth, giving blowjobs was not something Clark had very much practice with. Yet there was something else mixed in with that, something that made him shiver for a whole other reason as he imagined that thick, intimidating cock filling up his mouth, sliding down past his defences and into his throat…
“Don’t worry,” the other man purred, as if he had read Clark’s worries and darkest desires. “You’ll be able to take me. We’re going to practice until you get it right. No matter how long it takes.”
After that dark, hot promise, the Knight slid a hand into Clark’s hair. It was a gentle caress until it turned into a harsh grip, tugging Clark’s face down, down, down towards his cock. Clark had half a mind to resist, to push away with all his might, but as if the Knight had seen through to his next move, he suddenly felt the cold bite of metal at his temple and he froze.
“Come now, Mr Kent. Don’t make this harder for yourself,” the Knight murmured, as if it was perfectly acceptable to hold a gun to the head of the person he was demanding a blowjob from.
Swallowing, Clark let himself go pliant, let the hand in his hair direct him down and let it press his face into the Knight’s crotch. He didn’t struggle even as he felt the gun pull away from the skin of his temple, knowing that it would only take an instant before it would be pressed back against his head if he so much as tried to resist. Pre-come smeared wetly across his cheeks as he was dragged along by the Knight. He felt that large cock being rubbed against and across his lips, a teaser alluding to the main event, as the hand in his hair dictated all his movements. Humiliation burned his cheeks a hot, dark red, a flush he knew from experience spread down his neck to reach his chest. It was unexpectedly fortunate that he was still dressed, but that added to the degrading, submissive way he was behaving and it was becoming a vicious cycle.
How shame turned into arousal, which in turn, burned him with humiliation that fed further into lust.
Then he was pressed flush against the root of the Knight’s cock. He felt coarse hair tickling against his nose and reflexively took in a breath of air before his supply could be cut, but maybe that was a mistake in itself. All he could smell now was the strong musk of the man effortlessly dominating him, a heady, dark aroma infused with a pure sexual energy that was clouding Clark’s own mind, eradicating the clarity and detachment he had tried to maintain despite giving in physically to the other man. But with his abductor’s intoxicating scent surrounding him, seemingly permeating into all of him…
When his head was finally pulled back at a punishing angle, Clark let it happen. All he could do was to open his mouth to pant dazedly, to pull in oxygen that he’d been briefly deprived of while immersed in the Knight’s scent. His eyes took a moment to refocus onto the Knight’s face; it took him even longer than that to realize that the Knight was studying him with a pleased smirk. He wondered how debauched he had to look for it to please the Knight so, and to his great embarrassment, felt pre-come blurt out from his cock at the thought.
“Are you ready for your lesson?”
Then he was being directed to the now erect cock, and his mouth opened wider in anticipation. The intoxicating musk was getting stronger the closer he was being brought down to its source, and god, he wanted. It was wrong, it was shameful, he was being used like a toy… but he wanted it. He wanted to have that cock that had been teasing him earlier finally inside of him.
He couldn’t stop the involuntary whine that escaped from him when the hand guiding him stopped him almost less than a hair’s breadth away from that cock. He was so close. He strained against the grip in his hair mindlessly, but it was too firm and he could not escape it, even though this time he wanted to do as the Knight had commanded him.
He wanted to suck the Knight’s cock.
“So wanton,” the Knight murmured, his voice a dark, insidious thing that slid into Clark’s mind and enraptured him, made Clark want to hang on to his every word. “You’ve barely gotten a taste, and look at you now.”
Clark shuddered and he tried once more to reach the cock that was just bare centimeters away from him. He failed to reach his goal, but succeeded in humping his own erection against the Knight’s shoe that was still placed between Clark’s thighs. The unexpected bolt of pleasure from his desperate motions momentarily redirected his attention to chasing that sensation further. His hips gyrated, rutting frantically against the hard yet supple surface, and a loud, broken moan forced its way out of his throat when the Knight pressed back in counterpoint to his unrestrained thrusts.
Then abruptly, the pressure was removed and Clark let out a desperate whine before he could stop himself. Neither could he immediately halt the shameful humping motion of his hips as they moved futilely against air for a few more seconds before he could bring them to stop chasing after a pleasure that had since been cruelly withheld. His cock throbbed insistently in its confines, craving more friction, and it was almost painful being pulled back so abruptly from the brink of what he knew would’ve been a spectacular orgasm.
“You’re not coming before I do, Mr Kent. Even though I believe you’ll make the most remarkable expressions when you come.”
He looked up at the Knight through his lashes, not able to tilt his head up due to the harsh grip the Knight had on his head. The gnawing need for release that wanted to be filled coupled with a desperate need to please his captor rendered his mind a haze. He couldn’t seem to decide what to do next for he wanted so many things.
“You want to taste my cock, don’t you?”
“Yes…” he rasped out, his dazed mind latching on to the question like a guiding beacon. “…please…”
“Good. Use your tongue. Stick it out of that pretty little mouth and put it to use.”
Clark did as he was told, and it was a revelation in itself. That minute distance between his mouth and that tantalizing cock, which had seemed unforgivably vast initially, was easily covered by his tongue, and he licked as enthusiastically as he could while still being held in place by the Knight’s hand. He laved the head of the Knight’s cock with saliva, taking in the salty, slightly bitter flavor of the Knight’s pre-come and thought he could drown in the taste. He licked further down, tried to reach more flesh, tried as far as the very tip of his tongue could go. Even so, he found himself returning to lick delicately, dedicatedly over the cockhead so that he could drink in more of the Knight’s flavor, tease out more of that heady musk to surround his senses with.
He barely noticed that he was intermittently saying please, please, please until he heard a deep, velvety chuckle from the Knight.
“You want more, don’t you?”
“Yes, please… More… need…”
“Greedy boy,” the Knight admonished, but Clark thought he sounded pleased by Clark’s wanton behavior. “Do exactly as I say, and I’ll give you what you need.”
Clark nodded and waited for the next instruction.
“Close your mouth, but keep it relaxed… and just go with it.”
Despite the rather counterintuitive order, Clark obediently kept his mouth shut but pliant. He was rewarded with a pleased hum before the hand on the back of his head exerted steady pressure again. His lips brushed against the Knight’s cock and felt more pre-come coat his lips. Clark had to fight against the urge to slip his tongue out so he could capture the taste of that intoxicating liquid again. For a few moments, the Knight made Clark plant soft kisses against his cock, never exerting more than the required amount of pressure to make Clark feel the tantalizing press of cock against his lips before being pulled back again. He struggled not to fidget, not to try to take matters into his own hands.
“Good boy,” the Knight praised again.
Then finally the Knight was pushing harder, driving down with an unrelenting force that made Clark’s lips finally part around the cock before him. Clark could feel his lips being made to part to let the hard, hot intrusion in, and the illusion of being forced to just take it sent such a strong wave of lust coursing through his body that it threatened to make him lose his tenuous control on not taking matters into his own hands. His mouth was slowly but relentlessly being filled, slowly being fed with cock that was like a brand of ownership, and now he was glad that his hands were bound because he would not have had the patience that the Knight demanded of him.
The Knight stopped when Clark’s mouth was entirely filled, but not his throat. Clark was confused as to why he did not claim the rest of him, but also slightly thankful because he still wasn’t entirely sure if he could deepthroat the large cock in his mouth on the first try. He looked up at the Knight as much as he could. He wanted to know if he had pleased the other man with his acquiescence.
He found that the Knight was looking back at him, and Clark shuddered at the intensity in that dark gaze. He was looking at danger personified, a swirling, endless black that was just waiting to devour Clark whole, to conquer all of him. Clark realized that he would let gladly let it happen, let the darkness invade all of him, let it enter him, penetrate him… own him.
The command cut through all the haze in his mind, and Clark was galvanized into action. He dived headfirst into his new task, hollowing his cheeks around the hard length stretching his mouth wide, sucking with renewed vigor and enthusiasm. He alternated with licking around the length, rubbing his tongue all over the flesh he could reach and letting his saliva run down the thick cock to make it wet and sloppy, to make the slick slide of hard flesh in and out of his mouth even easier. He gorged himself on the hot, turgid flesh, and was only vaguely aware that he was making pleased, muffled moans with every bob of his head.
“Hmm… you’re good at this. I knew you would be when I first saw you.”
Clark shuddered as humiliation burned through him. The words made him feel the weight and heft of the cock in his mouth more acutely, made him feel keenly how wide his lips were stretched around the girth of the Knight’s cock, made him intensely aware of the uncontrollable moans and whimpers that were pulled out of his throat even as they ended up being muffled by the large cock stuffing his mouth full. He was so dirty to be enjoying his degradation at the hands of a dangerous mob boss, to be delighting in pleasuring his captor by giving up control, to relish being used in any manner the Knight desired.
He could tell himself that it was so that he could escape with his life. That it was better to give in now and be assured of survival later. He knew it would all be lies.
“Mmm… such pretty cocksucker lips you have. You’re just made for sucking cock, aren’t you?”
Clark had never once thought about himself that way, but it was as if the Knight made it iron-cast fact just by speaking. He had lips made to suck cock. He was made to suck cock. He was fulfilling the purpose the Knight had granted him, and the thought made him feel shockingly good, so much so that he felt his own cock stiffen further, felt his own cock leaking even more than he already had. His briefs had to be soaked through, utterly ruined, and he was sure that a wet stain was showing up on the front of his slacks by now.
He sucked harder, slurped lewdly around the velvety flesh in his mouth, relishing in the ache that was beginning to build up in his jaw – it was how he knew that he was working hard. He wanted to be good, to excel at his purpose. Drool dribbled out the sides of his mouth, and each bob of his head around Knight’s cock made an obscene, wet squelch, but he revelled in it. Revelled in knowing that he was pleasing the Knight for Clark could hear the soft grunts the other man was making, and he wanted to make a proper moan of pleasure come from the other’s mouth.
Suddenly, he was being tugged back, away from the glorious cock filling his mouth. The Knight’s cock slipped out of his mouth with a pop and Clark whined, a high desperate, broken sound, at the loss.
No, why? Had he done something wrong?
He barely heard a click, like the shutter of a camera, as he writhed and mewled in distress.
“No! Please… nonono… Please, please!”
The other man chuckled. “So eager for cock now, aren’t you? To think you said you wouldn’t enjoy this before.”
He was wrong before. So, so wrong. He wanted it. God, he wanted it desperately. His mouth felt empty, a hole that needed to be filled or he would not be satisfied. Clark whined again, straining against the fist holding him back, straining towards the Knight’s thick, glistening erection.
The Knight let Clark lean towards his erection, but then with a deft twist of his hand, turned Clark away at the last moment. Instead, Clark felt the Knight’s hard cock slap against his cheek, painting his skin wet with a mixture of the Knight’s pre-come and Clark’s own saliva. He whimpered, trying to get his mouth, his tongue onto whatever bit of skin he could reach. But the other man thwarted his uncoordinated attempts with ease. Clark felt another slap of the Knight’s cock against his other cheek and his face heated up again from how indecently he was acting, even though he couldn’t stop himself from begging now.
“Please! I want… I want your cock!”
“Hmm? But you have it. You look so pretty with my cock getting your face all sticky and wet.”
Clark shook his head frantically, getting more streaks of pre-come smeared across his face in the process, but he ignored the burn of embarrassment as best as he could. He had to make the Knight understand how he wanted, needed that big cock back in his mouth, filling it up, stuffing him full…
“Nooo… I want… please…” he begged. “I want to suck your cock, sir! Please! I need to.”
A wicked-looking smile worked its way slowly across the Knight’s lips, turning his features devilishly handsome. “You learn fast for a beginner, don’t you? I guess I can move you on to the next lesson.”
“Shhh… be just a little more patient. Tell me why you want to suck my cock.”
Here, Clark faltered a little. It was one thing to admit to himself, in his mind, that he liked the feeling of being filled up, that he was what the Knight said he was made to do. That he was a cocksucker. It was another to declare it aloud himself because it would feel all the more real.
“Tell me, or you’re not getting what you want. I’d be more than delighted to masturbate and come on your cute, little face.”
“Because I… because I’m…”
“Because I’m a cocksucker!” he said, feeling the words finally burst out of him with a hot burn of shame that only served to make him even dizzier with twisted lust. “I need cock! I need to be filled with cock!”
“Good boy, wasn’t that hard, was it?” the Knight said as he patted Clark’s face. “You liked it, didn’t you? Having your mouth stuffed with my cock?”
Two fingers were roughly thrust into Clark’s mouth then, startling a moan from him before he began to suck earnestly on them. They were nowhere near the girth of the Knight’s cock, but having had nothing else in his mouth for what felt like an intolerably long time, the fingers were a relief. He moaned again as the fingers delved deeper into his orifice, and then he choked slightly as they tested his gag reflex.
“You’re going to learn to love having a cock stuffed down your throat, filling you up further than you thought you could possibly take,” was the Knight’s dark, sinful promise.
“Ughn… ohh pwease, sir…” Clark pleaded, his words coming out garbled around the fingers playing with his mouth.
He wanted that, all of that. He wanted to learn how it would feel like to deepthroat that magnificent cock and bring this man even more pleasure. This powerful man who could so easily see into all of Clark’s darkest, most hidden desires and slake them in the dirtiest (best) ways possible.
“Yess… Sir… ‘each me…”
“Oh, I will. Especially since you begged so prettily.”
“Ohh ‘hank you… sir… ‘hank you,” he breathed out in gratitude.
“Such a polite boy,” the Knight praised as he pulled his fingers out from Clark’s mouth. “First things first, you’re going to put your mouth and tongue to use to get all of me good and wet. Understood?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
With a last pat of Clark’s cheeks, the Knight let Clark have free reign over his actions, even as he kept a proprietary hand on the back of Clark’s head. Clark dived into his task, running his tongue all over that large cock from root to tip. He mouthed at the expanse of flesh he could now freely explore and taste, letting his saliva dribble out and spreading the clear fluid messily with his tongue and lips, knowing that his master liked to see him make a mess of himself in his eagerness. Clark serviced his master to the best of his ability, sucking enthusiastically at the cockhead, moaning when he tasted the salt-bitter tang of pre-come his actions elicited. He had to force himself to spread the pre-come down the crown of that delicious cock instead of drinking it all in like he wanted.
He had to be good, had to do as his master commanded. If he behaved, if he was good, he would be rewarded.
Clark didn’t know how long he lost himself to worshipping his master. Each time he felt the hot shaft sliding against the inside of his mouth, sliding past his swollen lips, it was as if his mind became light and airy, as if he was floating away. No more irrelevant thoughts clouded his psyche. All that was left was the physicality of having his mouth crammed full and the knowledge that he was good from the appreciative grunts and verbal praises from the man he was servicing.
“So good for me. Doing exactly as I ordered. You’ll be a good boy and listen to all my orders now, won’t you?”
He nodded and moaned his agreement around the cock in his mouth.
The hand on his head gripped tighter once again, asserting control, and Clark let it happen, let himself be pulled back until he was looking dazedly up at the other man. His master idly rubbed his thumb over Clark’s lips which felt warm, almost as if they had been rubbed raw. He could only imagine that they were red and swollen, perfect evidence of the debauchery he’d been through.
“Open your mouth wide and keep your throat relaxed.”
Obediently, Clark let his jaw fall open, forming a perfect ‘O’ with his mouth. Saliva began to pool in his mouth and he let it happen, wanting to hear the slick squelch when his master finally pushed in.
“Beautiful. Such a good boy you are. You’ll become an amazing cockslut in no time.”
Heat flooded through his body at the words and he couldn’t help but close his eyes in a futile attempt to stave off the rush of lust tinged with humiliation. Then there was no more room for idle thoughts as his master’s cock slid into his unresisting mouth. He shuddered at the loud, wet sound of his mouth being penetrated, eyes momentarily rolling back in his head at the shameful arousal that spiralled through him at the knowledge that he was nothing more than a filthy hole for his master’s use. He was shoved down, down, down the long, thick length of his master’s cock until his mouth was filled to the brim. This time, though, his master did not stop there. The hands in his hair held him firmly in place as his master thrusted upwards with a controlled roll of his hips. Clark felt the cockhead hit the back of his throat and he struggled to suppress his gag reflex, to keep his throat relaxed as he had been ordered.
Tears leaked out from the corners of his eyes as he felt his throat muscles flutter frantically around the intrusion. His natural instinct was to close up, to fight against the hardness trying to penetrate into his vulnerable throat, but he was trying his best to override that reaction with sheer willpower. His master kept up a slow rocking motion, pulling the slightest bit back to give Clark a breather for a moment before surging back in, but never going further than pushing the cockhead past the barrier of resistance. Clark choked and gagged on his whimpers each time the head breached his throat as he tried to overcome his limits.
Then he was being pulled back, drawn back until only the tip of his master’s cock rested in his mouth. Clark sucked harder at the mouthful he had, hoping to appease his master for failing to take his cock down his throat. He hoped it meant he was forgiven for his failure when he heard a satisfied hum from his master.
After that momentary reprieve, he was being pulled down again and he did his best to keep his mouth and throat slack and open for use. He swallowed convulsively around the hot shaft as the tip began to breach his throat once more. This time he succeeded for longer as he was held in place to feel just the tip of his master’s cock dip into his waiting throat.
“That’s it,” his master crooned as he let his fingers trail down the column of Clark’s neck in a gentle caress. “Swallow around my cock. That’s all you need to do. Cocksluts were made to swallow cock and cum. You were made to do this, made to be used by me.”
His face felt like it was on fire. Clark had never felt so embarrassed, so degraded, and so helplessly turned on in his entire life. He whined high in his throat. The sound was muffled, but the vibrations travelled up the length of his master’s cock and then there was the tiniest loss of control from the other man as Clark suddenly felt himself being yanked forward as his master thrust sharply upwards.
The cock in his mouth forced itself past his gag reflex and it was so unexpected that Clark did not react in time to swallow around the intrusion to make it easier on himself. He choked and writhed uselessly, tears springing to his eyes at the abrupt, vicious invasion of his throat. But it did nothing to stop his master from shoving the whole length of his cock into Clark’s mouth and down Clark’s spasming throat, until Clark’s lips were kissing the skin of his master’s groin around the cock that was now sheathed to the hilt inside of him.
“Nnghn… mmphmn… Mmmff…!”
He felt lightheaded as his master ground his hips into Clark’s face, uncaring of how Clark’s throat was still fluttering uselessly around its invader, protesting the sudden, rough invasion that was partially cutting off his air supply. But as with all conquerors, his wordless objections went ignored and were easily steamrolled over by yet another hard, claiming thrust of his master’s cock. So, Clark did his best to adapt instead, making himself swallow around the rigid shaft forcibly sheathed inside of him, and it did become easier as his muscles started to relax, to stop fighting the inevitability of being claimed, of being owned by his master. As he finally accepted the cock fully and unresisting down his throat, Clark felt a warm pleasure suffuse him, flowing through all his nerves and muscles. He felt good and light. He was finally fulfilling his purpose and it felt so good.
“Fuck. You look so good like this. On your knees, stuffed full of cock with that blissed out expression on your face.”
Vaguely, Clark registered that his master was speaking to him, was praising him. He purred in response, pleased that he was being good for his master.
“I should’ve just fucked your face from the beginning, shouldn’t I? You learn so well being thrown into the deep end.”
Clark shivered. His mind conjured up an image of his master holding his head down, ignoring all his muffled protests to ruthlessly thrust his thick cock into his unprepared, virgin throat. He imagined how it would feel to have his defenceless throat fucked into submission, penetrated roughly and mercilessly until he learnt to just take it like the cockslut he was. He whined softly at the dirty images in his head, his own cock throbbed painfully with unfulfilled arousal, drenching his briefs and trousers with streams of pre-come.
“Open your eyes and look up at me.”
He wasn’t quite sure when his eyes had fallen shut, but it was with great difficulty that he opened them again. He felt slow and heavy, his muscles not wanting to respond to his commands. Even when his eyes were open again and he was looking up, he found that his vision was blurred with unshed tears. Clark could vaguely make out the face of his master looking down at him, and noticed a dark, flat object hovering nearby but could not be bothered to discern more than that.
There was the sound of a shutter click and then the dark object moved aside. Clark continued to look up at his master docilely, waiting patiently for his next command as he relished the weight of his master’s cock stuffing him good and full.
“So good and sweet for me. You’re enjoying yourself so much, aren’t you? I told you that you would.”
Yes, yes, Clark vaguely remembered that. He also vaguely remembered doubting his master. He would never doubt his master again.
He let his head be pushed and pulled back and forth like a ragdoll, let himself become nothing but a wet, tight hole to be fucked. Drool spilled out the sides of his mouth with each slow slide of cock into and back out of his orifice, making a mess of his chin. But none of that mattered. What mattered was the litany of praises his master was bestowing upon him, the grunts and gasps of pleasure from his master as he took what he needed from Clark.
“By the end of the night, your throat’s going to be fucked raw. Then I’ll come on your pretty, slutty face. You’d like that, won’t you?”
Clark found himself empty of cock, his head tilted up to look at his master. It took him a long second to realize that his master was expecting a reply. He closed his slack mouth and swallowed to try to wet his throat, shivering slightly as he tasted his master on his tongue.
“Yes, sir…” he answered, his voice coming out in a hoarse rasp, evidence of the abuse his throat had already taken. “Please f-fuck my throat… let me make you come…”
“Because you like that, don’t you?”
“Yes… yes I like being fucked… I love it… Please, sir… use me, please!”
“Gladly. Now, I want you to take my whole cock down your throat by yourself. I’m sure you can do it now, can’t you?”
In lieu of a verbal answer, Clark let his mouth go loose and his throat go pliant. Then he bent his head down to slide his master’s cock slowly into him, savoring each and every inch of cock gliding past his lips. When he felt the head hit the back of his throat, he took a deep breath and then swallowed around it, pushing his head further down simultaneously, and then it was a smooth slide all the way down until his face was planted flush against his master’s crotch. Clark felt gloriously lightheaded, deliriously pleased that he managed to deepthroat his master, and drunk on the strong, heady musk of his master as he breathed it in right from the source.
Clark mewled contentedly as his hair was petted and his master voiced his approval.
“Now fuck yourself on my cock. I can’t be the one to do all the work now, can I?”
Of course. He was the one supposed to service his master. He wasn’t supposed to be passive. Of course, he had to work for it; he had to be the one to bring his master pleasure. He drew back along the shaft in his mouth but slid back down again before his master’s cock could completely leave his throat. Clark found he liked the feeling of his throat being occupied, and didn’t want it empty now if he could help it. He buried his face into his master’s groin, letting his lips rub against the coarse hairs at the base and moaned wildly as he drank in the heavy smell of his master. The cock sheathed in his throat pulsed and grew a little larger as if fed by the vibrations his throat was making. Clark felt his throat work to accommodate the larger fit, felt his lips stretch wider. His jaw throbbed with the new stretch, and that set off another round of moaning from him as he glutted himself greedily on his master’s engorged cock.
Clark continued to moan and whimper as his master began to roll his hips up in time with Clark impaling himself down onto his cock. They found a steady rhythm swiftly and Clark’s throat was never left empty as he met each powerful thrust with a needy, blissed out mewl. It was so good and, subconsciously, Clark’s own hips began to move, humping air as his own cock made its needs known.
What a sight he must make now.
Dishevelled. Face covered in pre-come and drool. Willingly impaling himself onto his master’s large cock, and all the while gyrating his own hips uselessly at air but unable to stop that shameful display all because he was a depraved cockslut.
Oh god, he might just come like this, untouched, with his master’s cock pulsing inside of his throat. It was only the memory of his master’s orders, that he wasn’t to find release until his master did that managed to pull him back from tumbling over the brink and into orgasm.
“Fuck. So good… Such a good, warm hole you are, boy.”
Clark mewled in pleasure at the praise. Then his master’s hands were in his hair again, and he was pressed hard into his master’s groin. He whined as he felt his master’s cock drag in circles inside his throat, brushing up against his inner muscles as if to distend them even more, and the vibrations from his gagged vocalizations caused his master to throb again in his throat.
Just when he thought he was going to run out of air, his master drew his face back, just the slightest inch, and Clark breathed in harshly through his nose. His reprieve lasted mere seconds, then he was being tugged down again. His nose was buried in his master’s coarse pubic hair, filling his nostrils with his master’s dark scent and cutting off his air supply. Clark felt his mind drifting as oxygen started running low, but his body still remembered the need for air and was struggling backwards anxiously. However, his master was immovable. His head was held resolutely in place and his master continued to press his hips in, trying to surge in deeper than he already was inside of Clark. Tears flowed freely from his eyes once more. His throat muscles began to convulse again, as if trying to draw in the air that his body was beginning to need. They rippled around the cock buried to the hilt inside of Clark, and each feeble flutter of his muscles was a reminder to Clark that he was owned by this man, this dark, dominating force of nature.
His vision was starting to go gray, but despite his body’s struggles, his mind was hazy but without fear. His master would take care of him. His master had been nothing but kind to him, even when he had been a disobedient boy who didn’t, no, refused to know his place. Clark knew better now. His place was right here: kneeling at his master’s feet, providing a warm hole for his master’s cock to use. He would be fine.
Then he was allowed to breathe once again as his master pulled him back to grant him the gift of air. He sobbed desperately, pulling in as air much as he could through his nose. His mouth was slack. He could only pant uselessly around the mouthful of cock left in his mouth for a few moments as he gathered his mind, before he started suckling at the tip, hoping his master would not be angry at the delay. He worshipped the crown, swirled his tongue around it in both apology and thanks. Then when Clark felt that he could, he began to bob his head up and down, applying hard, wet suction until he had his master’s cock completely enclosed in his throat once again.
“Such a good slut. So eager to serve,” his master murmured in approval. Then his voice turned commanding, “I’m going to fuck you hard and good now, boy. And when I come on your face, you’re going to thank me.”
This time, his master did not wait for Clark to reply. His master’s large hands grabbed a tight hold of his head and then he was just hanging on for the ride. At long last, his master seemed to have loosened the grip on his self-restraint and Clark was being pounded.
Hard and good, like his master promised.
The slap of flesh on flesh was loud and wet, ringing continuously in Clark’s ears. It was its own hypnotic melody, and Clark felt his mind drifting again, his body going lax in the powerful grip of his master. He lost any finesse and skill he had in sucking cock, and could only make weak suckling motions with his lips to try to pleasure the man face-fucking him deeper and deeper into total submission. He moaned his appreciation with each forceful penetration of his fucked-out throat, and mewled his desperation with each momentary withdrawal. It seemed foolish now that he had once entertained thoughts of resisting this man, this strong, dominating man. As if Clark could’ve escaped him in the end.
Each vicious tug of his master’s hands in his hair that sent fresh tears cascading down his cheeks was castigation for Clark’s deliberate disobedience.
Each brutal smack of his face against his master’s groin was penance for Clark’s failure to be honest about his deepest desires.
Each time he suffocated on his master’s huge cock was punishment for Clark’s irrational belief that he had a greater purpose in life than being his master’s plaything.
How could anything else possibly compare?
After what felt like eternity and yet not long enough, his master’s hard, steady fucking became uncontrolled, the rhythmic pounding motion became wilder, more uninhibited. Clark knew his master was on the brink of orgasm and he tried to get his sluggish body to work, to suck on the sensitive flesh so he could help his master achieve his well-deserved completion. Then his master was pulling out of Clark’s mouth with a wet pop, his cock slapping against Clark’s face as it bobbed in front of Clark. Clark couldn’t help but whine at the loss, but he remained docile, letting his master position him so that he could see the lustful, hungry expression on his master’s face. Pleasure suffused Clark in a slow wave, knowing that he’d put that wonderful expression there with his obedience was a delight all in its own world.
His master kept one hand in his hair to keep Clark’s face tilted up at his desired angle, and then his other hand started to stroke his cock. Clark’s mouth watered as he watched his master pleasure himself. He whimpered with gratefulness when his master allowed his cock to brush over Clark’s lips and cheeks. When his eyes fell shut in incoherent pleasure, he mewled when he felt the velvety skin of his master’s cock rub his eyelids. No part of his face was left untouched, unclaimed by his master’s cock. He heard his master’s breath get shorter, coming in louder, harsher pants and grunts. He had to be close, and Clark wanted to watch.
Clark pried his eyes open, squinted hard to make them focus on his master’s face although he couldn’t help but turn his gaze, often, back to the ruddy, dripping cockhead that was so close to him. So ready to erupt and cover Clark with its sticky load.
“Please sir…” he whispered breathlessly. “Please come on my face…”
“Shit. Such a good slut, aren’t you? Begging so prettily for my cum.”
“Please… paint my face with your cum… please…!”
“Such a filthy mouth… Fuck. Remember my orders, boy.”
Then hot, creamy fluid was gushing out of his master’s cock, splattering onto Clark’s awaiting face. Jets of cum streaked across his face from forehead to chin, some dripping into his open mouth as Clark vocally expressed his gratitude as he had been told to, even though he knew now that he wouldn’t need such an order ever again. He would always be thankful to be bestowed with his master’s cum.
“Oh yes! Thank you, sir! Thank you! Ohh… Thank you for your cum. Thank you!” Clark babbled huskily, unable to stop his litany of gasping thanks as he felt more and more glorious cum splash onto his already sticky, drenched face.
He was drowning, his senses flooded with nothing but his master. There was cum sprayed all over his face, some even getting caught in his hair, and more coating him every second. He was pulling in the strongest, most intoxicating scent of his master with every breath he took from all the cum coating his cheeks. He was a receptacle for his master’s semen and it was the most liberating, joyous experience he’d ever had.
He felt the creamy, sex-pungent fluid drip down his chin, follow the curve of his neck to pool in the hollow of his collarbones. If he so much as shifted, he knew his master’s cum would trickle down onto his chest, stain his work clothes and it was such a filthy, embarrassing and arousing thought that he moaned aloud. That slight vibration was enough to make the cum gathered there overflow and he mewled at the sticky trails he could feel as his master’s cum slid down his chest. He was going to be absolutely dirty and sticky all over by the end of the night, and Clark could not have wanted anything more.
“Look at you, such a filthy mess. Covered in my cum and so grateful for it. You love it, don’t you? Just like I said you would.”
“Yes, sir! I love it,” Clark babbled his assent immediately. “I love your cum… Please sir…”
But it wasn’t said in admonishment. Clark’s answering moan was cut short when his master shoved his cockhead back into Clark’s mouth. Clark’s eyes crossed as he watched his master’s hand milk that large cock and on instinct, Clark sucked hard on the mouthful he was granted.
“That’s it,” his master praised breathlessly. “One last load for you in your mouth. That’s where you really want it, isn’t it?”
“You’re going to hold it there for me, won’t you? Keep all of it there and not let a single drop down your slutty throat or spill over your cocksucker lips. Not until I tell you what to do with it.”
“Mmghn! Unn mmff!” Yes! I will!
Then his mouth was being filled with a steady stream of warm cum as a loud, satisfied groan came from his master. Clark suckled gently at the head, coaxing more of it out until his master finally pulled away from him with a grunt. Clark hummed in satisfaction as his lips closed around the precious mouthful he had. He concentrated on not swallowing the cum, letting it settle in his mouth, permeating his taste buds until it was as if the taste of his master’s rich, bitter cum was the only thing he’d ever known. His master was the only thing that was important.
“Open your mouth and let me see.”
Carefully, Clark opened his mouth for his master’s inspection. His master smiled then, pleased with his capabilities as a cum receptacle, and warm delight flooded through Clark.
“Good boy. Now, keep your mouth open and keep my cum in there.”
Clark watched through glazed eyes as his master reached to the side and brought the flat, dark object he’d seen earlier back into view. It took Clark a long moment to finally realize that the object was a smartphone, and by then his master had already positioned it to the best position to capture Clark’s debauchment. All that was left was a light press of an icon and his slutty demeanor would be immortalized on digital print. Color flooded high on Clark’s face at the thought, and that drew a dark, almost condescending, laugh from his master.
“Finally realized that I’ve been taking photos of your progress, haven’t you?” his master asked rhetorically. “You were so out of it the previous times. So drunk on my cock. But your embarrassment just makes this photo a winner. Now, hold your position, boy, and keep your eyes open and on me.”
Mortification flooded through Clark, knowing that he could never deceive himself again if there was photographic evidence of his whorish behavior. But he kept still, kept his eyes locked on his master as he was ordered. He stayed in place even as his cheeks burned brighter as he heard multiple shutter clicks coming from the phone.
“Gorgeous. You should wear nothing but cum,” his master murmured, his thumb flicking over the screen of his phone as he browsed through the pictures he had of Clark. “I’ll bet none of your friends know you could look so beautifully debased. I wonder if they’ll even recognize you in these photos.”
Clark wanted to protest, he did not want anyone else to see this side of him. It was all just for this man before him. But his mouth was still full of his master’s cum and Clark hadn’t been allowed to do anything else but hold it there. Any stray sound that he made would surely cause him to lose that prized load and go against the command his master had given him previously. So, Clark could only plead with his eyes, hoping his master would understand that this Clark was for him, and only him, and nobody else.
“It’s alright, boy. I don’t like to share.”
The possessiveness in his master’s tone warmed Clark. Then the phone was put aside, and Clark had his master’s undivided attention again.
“Since you’ve been so good, I’ll let you drink that mouthful of cum you have and clean my cock with your tongue.”
Eagerly, but carefully, Clark nodded to show he understood.
“Eyes on me. Swallow.”
Dutifully, Clark swallowed, making sure to maintain eye contact with his master even as his cheeks flamed red again at the intensity of his master’s piercing gaze. He relished in the way the creamy cum flowed down his throat, marking him up inside just like he had been marked up on the outside. When he could no longer feel his master’s cum sliding down his throat, he let out a contented sigh and then turned his attention to his master’s cock. Gently, he began to lap at the head where there were still traces of sticky cum clinging there. All the while, he kept his gaze upwards on his master to show that he was a good boy. Clark was careful not to use too much pressure, knowing that his master had to be sensitive after his climax. He cleaned up all traces of cum with his tongue, using his peripheral vision to guide him. When he was done, he pulled back with his tongue still held out, at the ready for his master’s examination.
“Good. You listen so well now.”
His master looked down at his sticky, cum-coated tongue, then brought up a finger to swipe delicately through a bit of the fluid. He hummed, as if in consideration, before cleaning his finger on the inside of Clark’s open mouth. A high whine vibrated out of Clark’s throat, unbidden, at the casual debasement.
“You can drink that too.”
Gratefully, Clark sucked his tongue back in, savoring the bitter but uniquely delicious taste on his tongue for a moment before swallowing the last bit down. “Thank you, sir.”
His master began to tuck himself back into his trousers, and Clark mourned as that beautiful cock was hidden from his view once more. Then he hissed in shocked pain-pleasure, as his master’s shoe pressed firmly onto the bulge in his slacks, right over where his rock-hard cock was trapped, forgotten until this very moment. He mewled loudly, unrestrained, as his master rubbed his shoe up and down, stroking his cock through the damp material of his slacks.
“Looks like you really love sucking cock. But you still didn’t come. So good at following orders now, hmm?”
“Yes! Couldn’t… come… N-not… ahhnn… not before… nnghn… you…”
“But you can now. Show me how you’ll get yourself off. Show me your face when you come wet and messy in your pants like an untried virgin.”
Permission given, Clark ground his crotch against his master’s shoe, leaning his body against his master’s calf for support and leverage. God, he was such a dirty slut. This was the way he deserved to come: in his clothes, with another man’s cum drying on his face, rutting on the nearest available surface like a horny animal, making an utter mess of himself.
His mouth was slack, open against his master’s clothed knee, as he panted and moaned ceaselessly. His hips worked faster, grinding up his master’s shoe until he was humping his master’s leg instead. The new position meant his perineum was rubbing against the tip of his master’s shoe with each and every roll of his hips, and the intense pleasure sparked up his nerves from that point of contact felt even better than the rough friction on his cock.
Shame burned through him like a wild fire, inflaming his arousal, stoking his lust to greater, debauched heights as he fantasized about being penetrated anally by his master. Pre-come blurted out of his cock in a hot, wet wave, and he swore he heard a squelch as he rubbed his cock harder, more fervently at the thought of his master claiming the deepest, most private part of him. His slacks were getting soaked at a faster pace, and he knew that these pair of slacks (his briefs were already a lost cause), perhaps his entire outfit today, would be utterly ruined by the time the night was over. He always produced more cum than was probably typical, and he knew that when he finally orgasmed tonight, he would come a lot more than was usual even for him.
Clark worked himself mindlessly, striving to reach his peak and fall over it into blissful oblivion. He was already so very close, that he didn’t think it would take much more to tip him over. And yet, something seemed to be missing, and his needy whines started to turn desperate, almost distressed as he failed to reach that point of freefall no matter how hard he rutted like an animal in heat.
“Something’s missing, isn’t it?”
“Nnghn… yes… I… uhhn… I can’t… I don’t know… why… ohh… Sir, please…”
“Silly boy. You forgot that your slutty hole up here also needs to be filled before you can come.”
That made sense. He was suddenly keenly aware that his mouth was so empty, so unfulfilled that it was stopping him from achieving climax. Of course, his master would know that about him, would know how much of a slut Clark was than he himself did. Did that mean his master would let Clark suck on his cock again?
He got his answer when the gun that he had, thus far, only felt pressed against his skin came into view, the long barrel already pointed at his mouth. Clark looked up at his master, wanting confirmation for what he thought the gun meant.
“Suck it, boy. It’ll fill your hole up good.”
Clark gulped, but he moved obediently to take the barrel into his mouth. The bite of metal was cold, almost stinging the tender insides of his cheeks. He carefully worked himself down the length of the gun, sucking dutifully on it as if it were an actual flesh-and-blood cock and not a dangerous weapon. It was nowhere near as thick as his master’s cock, but it… it still felt good despite the danger, or perhaps because of the danger. Tears stung his eyes, but the mortification was starting to do its twisted job, as was the sensation of having something to fill his mouth up. He felt woozy with lust mixed with humiliation because he was willingly fellating a gun just so he could achieve orgasm, and there was a heavy dose of fear as well, because he had a live gun in his mouth. He knew his master would not let anything happen to him, but the fear would not be shaken.
Oh god, he was so close. He just needed a little more…
“Look at you. So desperate to come you’ll suck on my gun as if it were a cock. I wonder, will you take my gun in your ass if that’s the only way I’ll let you come?”
His master punctuated his question with a pointed jab of his shoe, up the crease of Clark’s clothed ass and right against his asshole.
Clark was lost.
He positively screamed around the gun in his mouth, his entire body seized up as his orgasm blindsided him. White-hot pleasure cascaded through his body in seemingly endless waves, traveling up from the teasing pressure against his asshole and going straight into his cock. He came hard inside his pants, cum erupting out of his cockhead as if a pressure valve had been released. Then as if galvanized by that release of pressure, his hips started to rut against his master’s leg in frenzied movements after having stilled in the initial burst of his mind-blowing climax. After being kept on the edge for so long, it seemed that his body was now eager to prolong it, to milk his orgasm for all his worth.
A broken wail tore out of Clark’s throat as his master moved his foot once more, applying greater pressure on his covered asshole, until Clark felt like he was really being breached. Cum gushed out of his slit in a renewed surge at the phantom sensation of being fucked open there by his master’s large cock. Each hot stream of cum that gushed out of his rigid cock drowned Clark in overwhelming pleasure. He was reduced to a drooling, moaning mess of overwhelmed sensation. Spit dribbled out around the gun in his mouth, soaking into his master’s trousers as he moaned and shook and came and came and came.
Another shift in pressure, this time directly over both his cock and his hole, and his entire body shuddered and a whine spilled out of his throat. Another intense wave of hot, electric sensation crashed over Clark, dragging him under with its strength, and his eyes rolled back in his head.
He lost some time to the state between consciousness and unconsciousness. When Clark was next more aware of himself, he was leaning limply against his master’s leg, no longer able to find the strength to move. His body was faintly trembling with the aftershocks of his powerful climax, and he was drooling unbecomingly from his slack mouth. His master’s gun was still resting in his unresisting mouth, the cold metal having gone warm now from his body heat. Then the gun was moving further into his mouth, further than he had previously taken it and Clark let it happen, too dazed to do anything else but passively accept the intrusion. Then he jolted as pleasure-pain lit up his nerves when his master started to massage Clark’s softening cock with his foot. He squirmed weakly, having no more energy to make a more definite objection. It did nothing to stop his master from rubbing his oversensitive cock through his clothes, and his weak struggles only earned him an amused chuckle and firmer pressure being applied to his groin.
“Uhhh… Nooohh… noooh mooree…” he whined, trying his best to be intelligible around the gun obstructing his mouth. “’oooo much…”
“You came so hard, your pants are soaked with your cum,” his master commented, completely ignoring Clark’s garbled pleas for mercy. “Can you hear it? Each time I press down on your cock, right there! Hear that dirty, squishing sound?”
Clark whimpered from both the pain of overstimulation and from hearing the wet sound in question for himself now that he was no longer caught up in the throes of his orgasm. Oh god, how much had he actually ejaculated for it to make such a loud, obscene noise?
“I wonder if I can milk any more out from you…”
Frantically, Clark shook his head, gazing beseechingly up into his master’s eyes. No, no more. He was spent. Totally and utterly spent. His cock was completely soft and extremely tender from overstimulation. He had never come harder than that in his life, and he didn’t think he had a single drop of cum left to spill.
His master heaved a disappointed sigh, but stopped his ministrations on Clark’s abused genitals after one last particularly forceful stroke that made Clark sob and gasp from the confusing mix of pain and pleasure it drew from his nerves.
“Alright, I’ll let it go for now. One day, I’ll milk you completely dry. We’ll see how much cum your shameless cock can produce then.”
Clark shivered at the words, knowing that they were a promise for what would happen to him in the near future. He would be in for a long, long night. But for the moment, he was just glad that he wasn’t going to have to come again.
“’hank you, sir…”
“But in exchange, you’re going to let me see how much you’ve wet your pants.” His master drew back his gun and set it aside before ordering, “Sit back on your knees and spread them.”
With great difficulty, Clark forced his lax muscles to move. He shuffled back slightly so that his master could get a good view of his body, then sat back on his haunches and spread his knees as wide as he could in that position. He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt his cum slide around the inside of his briefs when his knees were fully spread. Now that the heat of the moment was over, and he wasn’t consumed with lust, he was feeling pure humiliation curl up his spine.
“Look at yourself, look at the mess you made of your pants. Such a dirty boy.”
He whimpered in embarrassment, but did as he was told. Clark opened his eyes, and then gaped at the large wet spot covering the entire seat of his crotch. The amount of cum he had produced was so great that it had soaked clean through both layers of his clothes and on top of that, there was still more cum that hadn’t made it past the barrier of his clothing pooling sticky-wet in his ruined underwear.
“Turn around, then bend over with your ass up and face on the floor.”
Clark didn’t know what his master was planning with that instruction, but he readily complied. He almost paused in mortification as he was getting into his master’s desired position because not only would he be presenting himself as if he wanted to be mounted like an animal, but also because he knew it would cause the cum in his underwear to slosh around again. He wouldn’t be able to forget his shameful display, and that was perhaps his master’s point.
When he was in position, he heard his master step up behind him. Large hands grabbed a hold of the twin globes of his ass, kneading the plump mounds of flesh and sending sensual pleasure coursing through Clark’s veins. Then he gasped when his master’s thumbs applied pressure down the crease of his ass, rubbing hard downwards and when they finally pressed over his hole through the fabric, Clark moaned and jerked his ass back into the hard point of contact. He received a hard smack on his ass for his actions and cried out at the shock of sharp pain that blossomed from where the blow had connected.
“Insatiable, aren’t you? You’ve had your fun, so hold still. I’m going to undo your cuffs. When you’ve got your hands free, you’re going to open up your fly and show me the mess in your tight little briefs. Understood?”
There was a click and his cuffs snapped open. They were snatched away before they could fall onto the ground. Then his master’s hands were on his, massaging his wrists and forearms in a surprisingly gentle manner to help him get his circulation back. Clark wriggled his fingers, trying to shake off the pins and needles feeling. It took some time before he felt his circulation return to what he deemed close to normal, and it was only then that his master drew back. He heard the sound of his master settling back into his armchair and took that as his cue.
Clark pushed himself up with the use of his freed hands and turned back to face the armchair. He knelt up on his knees so that it was easier to undo his fly. Then with a deep breath, he slowly pushed the damp, clingy fabric of his slacks downwards so they clung to his mid-thighs and exposed the sky-blue briefs he was wearing under his trousers. He was about to start easing his briefs off when his master spoke.
“Stop. Pull up your shirt so I can see you better.”
Biting down on his lower lip hard in an attempt to stop a blush from rising, Clark did as he was told, holding up the ends of his shirt so that not a single bit of his sodden briefs was obscured by even the slightest shadow. He felt painfully exposed, even though his privates were still covered and he was still mostly clothed.
“Thrust your hips out. Yes, that’s it. Now, hold still.”
Clark fought the strong urge to fidget and cover himself when his master brought out his phone again. This time, he was able to clearly see how his master deliberately positioned the phone so that the camera lens was pointing at his crotch. Heat began to rise up to his face again, and he bit harder on his lip to stop himself from whining in embarrassment and to fight off the blush. A sore ache was also beginning to make itself known, originating from his knees, and he used that ache to ground himself further and will away the blush.
The sound effect of the camera shutter seemed to be incongruously loud this time and Clark shivered a little.
“Put one of your hands on the waistband of your briefs. Yes, like that. Hold that pose and look into the camera.”
This time, Clark lost the battle to his blush, feeling his cheeks flame once again. “Sir, please… no…”
“Why not? You look so pretty like this.”
“It’s… it’s embarrassing…” he whined.
But his master was unyielding in his demands. “No, it’s not. It’s just showing you for who you truly are: a horny slut of a boy. Now, look into the camera.”
His master’s tone was firm with just a hint of warning. It brooked no argument and Clark’s protests died swiftly. Hesitantly, he brought his gaze to the camera and held the pose his master demanded of him: hips thrust out to highlight how his damp, cum-stained briefs were clinging to his cock, and a hand at the waistband about to reveal exactly how much of a dirty slut he was for getting off by humping his master’s leg and fellating his master’s gun. He was unconsciously biting his lower lip once again, not realizing that it made him look all the more wanton, giving off a come-hither expression. All he noticed was the pleased smile on his master’s face when Clark gave his master what he desired without further protest.
“Good. See, that wasn’t hard at all, was it?”
It was. But Clark shook his head, not daring to contradict his master and incite his wrath. He had been doing so well, he didn’t want to displease his master. He liked it when his master smiled at him for a job well done.
“Put your hand inside your briefs. Tell me what it feels like.”
Clark kept his eyes on his master, mostly because he was embarrassed to see just how much he cum his cock had jetted out, and then slowly slid his left hand past the waistband, down into his sodden underwear. He was immediately met with warm, wet stickiness. When he reached further down to carefully touch his still tingling cock, it caused the cotton of his briefs to distend around his hand and he heard a splattering sound as some of the cum trapped in his soiled briefs spilled out and dripped down to the floor in thick globules. Heat rushed into his cheeks again at the sound, and he saw his master’s eyes flick downwards to the spot on the floor which was now stained with his cum and felt another rush of humiliation flush his face crimson.
“It’s… It’s all wet… and sticky… There’s cum everywhere,” he stuttered out despite his embarrassment in accordance with his master’s instructions. “I’m all wet and sticky…”
“You’re a mess in there, aren’t you?”
“Pull out your cock. Show me the mess you made.”
Clark had to use his both his hands to push down the waistband of his briefs. With his briefs now no longer snug against his crotch, more of his excessive cum began to spill out with the movement, some landing on his trousers and some hitting the floor. His face was so hot with mortification, but there was nothing he could do but obey. When his cock was hanging out above his briefs, he held up his shirt ends again with one hand and used the other to cup his balls, catching the sticky tendrils of cum trailing down them.
His cock was soft, but absolutely covered in his own cum, and so were his balls. In fact, his entire crotch and lower part of his ass was liberally coated in cum. Clark was a dirty, filthy mess, and he was presenting the messiest part of himself for his master’s perusal. He swallowed, looked back up at his master, and waited.
His master scrutinized his bare crotch, studying the white strands of cum still clinging onto the soft flesh of Clark’s genitals. The intensity and almost analytical nature of that stare made his cock twitch a little in a valiant attempt to get hard again, and Clark whimpered when his master’s observant, knowing eyes flicked up to his. He was certain that one day, his master would do just this: scrutinize Clark like he was a fascinating project under the microscope, and his filthy, lewd body would get hard for his master just by being watched.
“Insatiable boy. You actually like to be on display, don’t you?”
Clark whined wordlessly, unsure if he was agreeing or disagreeing with his master’s assessment. Luckily, his master did not expect an actual reply from him this time.
Instead, his master repositioned the phone again and Clark knew that it had to be focused tightly on his flaccid but cum-covered cock and his sopping wet briefs. The camera clicked a few times, each sound ringing loudly in Clark’s ears, and he thought that if he wasn’t already so utterly spent, lust would be surging through his traitorous body once more. As it was, there was a slow heat coiling low in his gut right now, but thankfully, nowhere near the inferno-levels of arousal that he had experienced earlier. It was just like his master had said, he truly was insatiable.
“Your hand is covered with cum too, isn’t it? Suck it all up.”
Immediately, Clark drew his hand away from his sticky cock and up to his mouth. He licked up the majority of the creamy fluid that was smeared across his palm and then went on to lick and suckle on each of his fingers. He heard the camera shutter go off again as he was sucking on his index and middle finger and had to remind himself to stay on task. When he was done cleaning his hand of all of his cum, he looked back at his master.
“Very good. But it’s not just your hand that got dirty, is it? Tuck yourself back in and then clean the floor with your tongue. I don’t want a single drop of your cum left on the floor when you’re done. It should be all in your mouth.”
It was very uncomfortable to put on his sodden underwear again. The drenched fabric clung to all the wrong places and there was a slick, embarrassing squelch each time he readjusted his briefs so they fit as comfortably as they could. A few more drops of cum splashed out onto the floor during the awkward process, making Clark acutely aware of what he was supposed to do next after he got dressed. He pulled up his damp trousers, covering himself up, trying to make himself look presentable when he had not too long ago been debauched on the floor of a criminal hideout and had willingly debased himself further on command. When he was done tidying himself up as best as he could, he looked back up at his master. His master raised an eyebrow and gestured with his hand as if saying go on, get to it.
Then Clark was bending over on his hands and knees and lowering his face to the floor where his cum had pooled. He cleaned his mess with broad, sweeping strokes of his tongue over rough concrete floor. He licked up every single drop of his own salt-bitter cum staining his master’s floor as he had been instructed. When Clark felt that he had indeed cleaned all of his cum up, he crawled forward to kneel submissively between the vee of his master’s legs. Then he opened his mouth to let his master see all the cum he had scoured off the floor.
“Very good. What do you do next with cum in your mouth?”
Hoping he was not misreading his master, he tilted his head back and swallowed the small mouthful he had with an audible gulp, letting his master see the column of his throat work as the cum passed through his throat into his belly. Then to be on the safe side, he added sincerely, “Thank you, sir.”
“Perfect. You did so well tonight, Mr Kent, as I knew you would. But all good things must come to an end.”
Clark’s eyes widened, spell abruptly broken. The use of his surname was a stark, cold reminder that he was trapped with a dangerous member of the Metropolis underworld. That he had just been used blatantly as a sex toy, and he should have at no point let down his guard, much less delighted in his debasement to such an inconceivable degree. His life could still be in danger, and now that the Knight had had his fun with Clark, there was no telling what could happen. His panicked gaze darted to the side table where the Knight’s gun was lying innocuously, with the slightest hint of a wet shimmer on the tip of the barrel.
“Don’t be afraid, Mr Kent. I’m a man of my word, so I’m not going to… dispose of you. Besides, I’ve not enjoyed myself this much in a long, long time. I just need to send you off now, but I’ll be in touch.”
“Be… in touch?” Clark wasn’t sure he wanted to know what that meant, even though he was relieved that he would be living past this night.
“You’ll know when I call for you. And it would do you well to come when I call.” The Knight ran a lazy gaze down Clark’s body until they reached his groin. “Pun fully intended.”
Then the Knight caught his shoulders in a lightning fast movement, and before Clark could react, he felt a hard pinch on his nerves. His vision went black, and Clark knew no more.
When Clark next came to, he found himself naked, clean and lying on a large, plush bed. His head was pillowed against a firm, equally naked chest, and there were gentle fingers carding through his hair. He sighed a little in contentment and snuggled further against the hard body lying beside him.
“Mmm… how long was I out?” he asked. His voice was still just a little bit hoarse and his throat and jaw both ached dully. It was a pleasant reminder of his earlier activities.
“Not long,” came Bruce’s reply as he reached over to the nightstand to bring Clark a glass of water. “Just long enough for me to clean us up and get you settled up here. You’ve always recovered pretty fast once I turn off the red sun lamps.”
Clark gratefully accepted the proffered glass and drank deeply, letting the cool liquid soothe his throat. When he had drained the glass, Bruce took it back from him to set it back down on the nightstand.
“Mmhmm… Enjoy yourself then?” he asked, laying back down to rest his head on Bruce’s shoulder, wriggling a little to get himself into a comfortable spot while not cutting off his lover’s circulation.
Bruce let out an inelegant snort as he looked down at Clark. “What do you think? Besides, shouldn’t I be asking you that question instead?”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Typical reticent Bat, not wanting to answer Clark’s questions directly. It didn’t matter that Clark did know the answer to it (he had, ahem, came face-to-face with Bruce’s answer to his question not too long ago). Sometimes, he just wanted Bruce to learn to talk more, be more upfront with his feelings.
“I definitely had fun. We should do this again,” he added.
“‘This’, as in this roleplay in particular?”
“Yeah. I like you in that white suit.”
“Oh? Do tell.”
There was a tiny, teasing grin on Bruce’s face that crinkled the corners of his normally stern eyes, and Clark loved it. He loved the expressions he could draw out from Bruce, and these ones in particular they were only just for him, this playful side of Bruce. Honestly, sometimes Clark felt that he enjoyed the aftermath of their more adventurous sexual encounters more than the actual sex itself. Especially if it gave him the chance to see Bruce relaxed and without the constant weight of the world hanging over him. Over the both of them, truth be told. But Bruce always seemed to expect more from himself than from anybody else, even if Clark was the one who came the closest to being a god that the Earth had seen in recent years. Especially with the dying and then coming back alive thing.
“As if you don’t know already.”
“Maybe I like to hear you say it.”
“Narcissist,” Clark chided but there was no real heat behind it. After all, Bruce was the furthest thing from being self-absorbed and vain.
“Well, you know I always like seeing you in your suits and tuxedoes. They just fit you so well. But that white suit… you just seem so much larger than life in it, so… regal. You just seem to have an aura of power radiating from you when you wear it, and it’s… really, really sexy.”
“You don’t think I radiate power as Batman?” Bruce asked in mock offense.
Clark laughed. “I thought you were going with fear with the Bat? But no, you do. It’s just… well, I have to work with you when you’re Batman, and I really do not need to develop a hard-on for that particular suit. It’d get very awkward in front of the League. My suit doesn’t exactly hide much.”
Bruce leered at him, letting his public persona slip back on just the slightest bit. “Oh, but that’s the point, Superman. I’m sure your adoring fans would love to get a glimpse of that particularly super part of you.”
Clark swatted lightly at Bruce’s chest at the awful pun. “What happened to I don’t like to share?” he asked, attempting to mimic how Bruce had sounded like in his Knight persona.
Then he yelped in an undignified manner when Bruce’s free hand, the one not petting his hair, closed around his cock, giving it a teasing stroke. Bruce smirked down at him, the evil bastard, as his fingers tweaked Clark’s balls before they quested back to rub along his perineum and all the way up to brush over his hole.
“You’re right. All of this is mine.”
“Are you,” Clark gasped out, squirming slightly in Bruce’s arms and trying his best not to be affected by the possessive growl in his lover’s voice. “Are you… trying to get me going again?”
They had long since established that Clark’s superhuman stamina applied to his libido as well (hell, Clark had known that about himself even before he started being in a relationship with Bruce). Even after he was weakened to close to normal human levels via red sunlight (which, thankfully, did not come with the debilitating side effects of Kryptonite), as soon as the light was removed, he would start to return to his baseline normal. It was a generally slower process without yellow sunlight, but not so slow that he wasn’t already starting to feel his libido perk up again at Bruce’s teasing actions despite having been utterly exhausted during their scene earlier.
“Maybe. Do you not want to?”
Well, that was a bit of a tough question. Clark was a healthy man in his prime, with the added benefit of having next to no refractory period most of the time thanks to his Kryptonian physiology. He could definitely be up for more than another round of sex. Plus, sex with Bruce was always wonderful no matter what they did. Still, he had been rather enjoying just cuddling up with the normally prickly older man. Perhaps another time.
“Not tonight. Though I would like to try more from this roleplay some other time,” he offered as an alternative.
Clark gasped once more when Bruce gave his ass one last playful squeeze before removing his hand.
“Alright,” Bruce acquiesced. “I do want to know how much you can come when you’re down to human normal.”
Clark flushed a little as he could hear the curiosity in Bruce’s tone. It was a combination of the detective and scientist in Bruce that wanted to learn Clark thoroughly, inside and out, with all sorts of variables accounted for. He could almost see it, Bruce as the Knight, methodically taking Clark apart, all the while calmly watching and cataloguing what made Clark tick and how much cum he produced as a result…
“Guess I know what to look forward to then,” was what he said instead, keeping his tone purposely light and playful, as if he hadn’t just been imagining what Bruce could do to him the next time they found the opportunity to do a more elaborate scene like tonight.
Bruce smirked. “Perhaps. Wouldn’t want to be too predictable, would I?”
This time, it was Clark who snorted. “As if you’re ever predictable.”
They fell into companionable silence then. With the slow return of his powers, it felt truly quiet in Bruce’s lake-house bedroom and Clark savored these precious moments. He let his hand idly trace the multitude of scars that criss-crossed Bruce’s torso, glad that Bruce trusted him enough to do this now. As they lay there, Clark’s mind was free to wander and wander it did, to something Bruce had said at the start of their scene that had stuck out to Clark even then. He wondered if it would be a good idea to bring it up.
“Did you mean it?” Clark finally asked after a long mental debate with himself.
“Did I mean what?”
“When you said that you wanted to be with me forever, did you mean it?”
“…I said “keep”, and that was just… part of the scene.”
“I know what you said, and I know what you meant instead, Bruce,” Clark replied, keeping his voice gentle. It would be all too easy to spook Bruce and send him running behind his emotional walls again, and Clark did not want that to happen. “I’d like that, you know, and I promise to stay with you forever.”
Bruce was silent for a very long time, even though his fingers were still carding through Clark’s hair in the same soothing, repetitive motion. Clark was beginning to think that he wouldn’t be getting a response to that statement, when Bruce finally spoke.
“…don’t make promises you can’t keep, Clark.”
He caught hold of Bruce’s hand gently, pulling it away from his head to plant a soft kiss on those fingers. He now knew of all of Bruce’s experiences with loss, with people being torn away from him when Bruce was helpless to prevent it. He hadn’t expected himself to be included in that group, even after they’d gotten together, but knew now that he was.
“Then I promise that I won’t abandon you. Not if I can help it.”
It was the best promise he could make, knowing the dangers involved when they were in their superhero identities and knowing that he had already left Bruce once. Even though he came back against all the odds, Bruce was not likely to trust in those odds again.
Bruce gave him a long, indecipherable look, and Clark held his gaze, hoping to convey his sincerity and his love through his eyes. It would be a slow work-in-progress, but Clark would not give up until Bruce believed that Clark spoke true. Then Bruce sighed and lay back on the pillows, and Clark took it as a sign that Bruce had heard him, truly heard him. They could work on Bruce believing him another day.
“You’re such a sap, Kent.”
“But I’m your sap, Mr Wayne.”
Bruce planted a chaste kiss on his forehead. Then he said with an affected, put-upon sigh, “Shut up and go to sleep, Clark.”
“Goodnight to you too, Bruce.”
Clark turned to tangle his legs comfortably with Bruce’s. In turn, Bruce pulled him closer into his strong arms until they were pressed close without anything separating the lines of their bodies.
They slept. Quietly and peacefully, through the rest of the night.