Bound Muscle

Bound_MuscleI step out to greet one of my buddies, who is here for a bondage session in my new place. I haven’t seen him in six months and as usual, am completed awed by how buff and sexy this guy is: 6’4”, 230 pounds with spiky brown hair and brilliant blue eyes. He is wearing one of those awful Coca-Cola t-shirts everyone and their mother seems to own, but it’ a size too small and shows off his tight pecs, huge shoulders and washboard abs. His cargo shorts are hiding the immense thighs and bubble-butt I’ve seen a dozen times before since we met several years ago.

The scene is always the same: Strip him down, rope him to my bed, and edge him for a few hours until he is begging to be allowed to shoot. He claims to be straight and married and while I doubt he is either, I’ve never pushed him on the subject. One: I understand how important fantasy is for some people. Two: This hot, masculine stud is allowing himself to submit to me, so why the hell should I mind playing along?

That being said, I am in the mood to change things up a bit. I figure: New house, new rules.

He’s always a little shy at first, which I use to my advantage. I walk him into my bedroom and give him 60 seconds to strip down to his underwear, warning him he will receive a paddling for every second he is late. He tears his clothes off within fifteen seconds and stands in front of me, panting a little. He is wearing powder blue Ginch Gonch briefs which look ridiculous on him, but he is tanned and has clearly been kicking ass at the gym, so I keep my opinion to myself. He has shaved what little hair he has from his chest and legs. I prefer hairy guys – I like having chest hair to pull on – but he looks amazing just the same. I tell him to drop to his knees and avert his eyes to the floor. I begin rubbing his huge shoulders, knowing it helps relax him. I confirm that I have him for two hours and remind him of his safeword, which is my name: Enzo. He knows that he can yell and scream all he wants, but that I will assume he is having a great time until he uses my name. Besides, he is well-aware that not referring to me as “Sir” will get him a swat with my paddle, or worse.

I reach into my toy chest and pull out several coils of black rope, a leather blindfold, steel handcuffs, some simple clothes pins and my weapon of choice: A wicked steel paddle encased in black leather. I carefully set each item on the table at the foot of my bed, letting him see what I plan to use. As predicted, his cock begins to swell. Also as predicted, his little briefs don’t stand a chance of containing his 8” monster. I rub my fingers lightly across his stretched briefs, causing both of us to moan. For me, there is nothing hotter than a seemingly perfect, masculine guy submitting to me. It drives me crazy, and makes it hard to stay in character.

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