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Pressing the staple gun down firmly, Cain squeezed it another one, two, three times along the line of the strip. Dean jerked and cussed underneath him. There. Two neat curving rows of staple covered duct tape from the top of his left ass cheek to the bottom. Rubbing glove covered fingertips down the line of silver staples, Cain fanned his hand across the swell of Dean’s ass and squeezed. There was a whimper, and Dean pushed back against it. Arms folded under his head, Dean was bent over the black leather padded play table, feet apart, ass up.
It needed another two strips on the other cheek. For symmetry sake.
When Cain looked to his right, Colette was already tearing a neat strip of duct tape off the role. Patting it over Dean’s ass, she smiled brightly. Just about the exact length of the other.
Cain nodded his approval, “One more?”
Colette ripped another strip off and tamped it onto Dean’s skin. “Of course.”
Freckled skin from the small of Dean’s back to the tops of his thighs was stained slightly orange from betadine. Dean shifted from one foot to another restlessly. Arched his back under Cain’s hand as he stroked over the lines of already stapled tape.
Placing his hand at the small of Dean’s back, Cain pressed down. “Steady.”
In swift succession, Cain laid another line of staples top to bottom on one of the blank strips with an even sure handedness, clack-clack loud in the space. They had an audience already and they hadn’t even gotten to the best part of tonight. A few people were gathered outside the tape-lines on the floor that denoted the zone for the table. Cain knew almost everyone here, regular attendees of the ‘no holds barred, fluid play welcome’ once a month nights at The Edge.
The sounds of the staple gun merged with the heavy thud of a flogger somewhere else in the room, the sharp snaps of a cane and the cries of a few subs, grunting and heavy panting coming from one dark corner, the murmur of chattering. At least they didn’t play music here; Cain wasn’t fond of the mood music most public dungeons played.
Colette circled around the side of the table, blue painted nails tangling in Dean’s hair as she watched him. Cain dragged a thumb over the line of new staples, bump-bump all the way down Dean’s taut ass. One more row to go. Placing the staple gun at the top, he took it slower this time. Clack-clack, and a good firm smack to the other cheek that had Dean jumping on the balls of his feet, clack-clack-clack, hand resting splayed squeezing and kneading, clack-clack.
All four rows of silver duct tape filled with straight industrial staples, Cain set his staple gun aside. Colette moved to pick it up and bag it, sealing it to be cleaned later and tucking it in their play bag. She came to stand next to Cain, almost as tall as he was in those sinful thigh high leather boots with the deadly stiletto heels. He loved those boots, laced from the toe to the top.
Dean was fidgeting, hips jerking back in little abortive movements. Bowed thighs spread even wider than the stance of his feet, it was as clear as day to see his hard cock hanging between his legs. Oh, Cain was very fond of this boy already. Laying a few more swats over the stapled expanse of Dean’s ass to hear him scream, Cain patted his hip soothingly when he finished.
Moving around the table to stand next to Dean’s head, Cain pulled off a glove and cupped his hand under Dean’s jaw. His face was flushed bright red, glistening with sweat, lips bit plush. Blinking up at Cain, eyes glistening, Dean nuzzled into his hand.
“Are you good to proceed?” Cain asked.
“Oh fuck, you better.”
“Greedy boy.”
Dean smirked and waggled his ass, “C’mon, I don’t break easy.”
Patting his cheek, Cain moved back behind Dean. Pulling his other glove off, he passed them to Colette who tucked them with the rest of the trash. Cleaning off his hands, again, Cain pulled on a fresh pair of gloves. Colette held up an open jar of ‘elbow grease’ for him. A few watchers dispersed, a few more took their place. Cain was hot enough to sweat in just jeans and a tee in the room, but they kept it warm for the crowd of naked to near naked subs. Colette moved gracefully in her heels and stiff boned corset as she moved supplies around and assisted him. His wife always knew what he needed, worked swiftly and with a light hand. Leaning over to kiss the smooth skin of her neck when she was near enough, Cain hummed against her as he rubbed the thick grease like lube over both his hands, warming it.
Turning into the contact, Colette tipped up to bite his lip, giving him a wink as she walked around the table and sat at the head, petting through Dean’s hair. Dean shifted up enough to lay his head on her thigh, one arm draped over her, as Cain slid his fingers between Dean’s legs. Teasing down along the crease of his perineum to cup his balls and squeeze, back up, circling the tight furl of his hole, Cain kicked his legs a little further apart and slipped two fingers inside.
He’d wanted to do this with the boy since he first laid eyes on him at a cell popping demo.
It’s not like one should start with fisting though. A spanking is a polite place to start, a paddling or a flogging too. After a few play sessions and negotiations, Cain had learned that although Dean wasn’t experienced in some of Cain’s stranger fetishes, such as stapling, Dean did enjoy fisting. He also had a high pain tolerance. Above all, Dean was eager to learn and eager to please.
They’d exchanged information and met up on a regular basis for parties now. Cain was fond of him. He wanted to take Dean home, but he hadn’t discussed that with Colette yet. Although she seemed to like him, they played well together.
Three fingers deep, and Cain was day dreaming about hand feeding the boy on his back porch while Colette read next to them.
Four fingers to the knuckle, tucked into a duck bill, breadth of his hand stretching at the pink rim as Dean rocked back against it and Cain mentally shook off his distraction. Placing one hand on a duct-tape stapled cheek, he pressed firmly and twisted his fingers inside Dean. Drawing the thumb up tight to his palm, Cain pushed, twisted, pulled back and pushed again. Dean was tense and trembling under him, but Cain could feel the moment Dean drew a shuddering breath and his muscle eased, width of knuckles and the meat of his palm sinking in to the wrist.
Slapping his ass, Cain pushed into Dean by an inch and moved his hand in small thrusts, feeling the tight clutch of Dean’s insides, before curling his fingers to the palm in a fist. Colette was leaning forward over Dean’s back to watch, long curled dark hair falling over slender shoulders as she soothed a hand down Dean’s back. Cain caught her eye and nodded once.
Bending over, Colette murmured something in Dean’s ear before she eased off the table. He rested his head in the crook of folded arms again, restless as he fucked himself on Cain’s fist with minute jerks of his hips. Colette came back down behind him, placing a small hand on Cain’s waist and watched. He murmured in her ear as he squeezed his fist inside Dean, “I want you to get a hold on one of those strips and yank it off when I tell you.”
Working his hand in deep, several inches past the wrist, Dean stretched so wide around him and panting audibly with stuttering huffs as he flexed the muscle of his ass, Cain balled his hand and pressed down as he gave a curt nod to Colette. Pinching the top of a strip between her long nails, Colette ripped the entire length of it off as Cain gripped Dean’s hip and pumped his fist.
“Holyfuckingshitsonofabitch…..” Dean trailed off a litany of curses as he jerked under Cain, feet slipping, hands flying out to clutch at the edge of the table.
Cain eased the pace, relaxed his fist and gave a few slow drags. Colette set aside the stapled strip of tape, beads of blood welling along the curve of Dean’s ass where it was pulled off. They dripped down his smooth skin, Dean’s back heaving with his breath. Cain nodded at Colette again and she grasped another strip. Holding Dean down with one hand and pressing deep, Cain gave her a nod and she yanked the next one off with a loud rip of peeling tape accompanied by Dean’s cursing.
They were drawing quite a crowd.
Colette moved around Cain to get to the other side of Dean’s ass. Sweat was trickling down the line of his spine and soaking his hair line. Dean flexed his grip on the table, steadied his stance. Cain curled his fingers tight and pushed towards Dean stomach when he nodded at Colette again. Dean screamed and gasped, Cain could feel contractions rippling around his hand, Dean shoving back and smacking at the table with one hand. When he calmed, chest sagging down, Cain slid his hand from Dean’s hip around to his front, cupping his wet cock.
“Did you just climax?”
All he got was a rough, “Holy shit.”
Colette, folding the strip of staple tape and tucking it with the trash, crouched and peered between Dean’s hips and the table. She grinned at Cain, rising and moving back to her spot. “We still have one strip left.”
Cain braced a hand at the small of Dean’s back. Untucked his fingers and pulled his hand to the width, stretching Dean’s rim, thrusting shallowly as he nodded at Colette again and Dean clenched so hard he drew Cain back in as he thrashed with the last strip yanked off.
Blood was soaking into the hair of his thighs, dripping down from all the small prick points of staples that covered his ass. Cain rubbed one hand down the swell, squeezing, slipping in the blood as he pulled his other hand out once Dean had relaxed again. Stripping his gloves, Colette took them from him and handed over cleaning supplies.
Dean was shaky, thighs trembling. Cain patted him on the hip and told him, “Up on the table.”
Crawling up, Dean looked over his shoulder and his eyes went wide when he twisted around to see more of his ass. Cain cleaned him, pressing paper towels to his skin when it still bled sluggishly, leaning pressure on it to staunch the blood flow. “It looks worse than it really is,” Cain assured him.
Biting his lip, Dean grunted when Cain put harder pressure on the myriad small wounds. Colette flitted around, tucking away supplies, taking trash to the bins. She pet through Dean’s hair and murmured something in his ear before sidling over to Cain. “I saw Meg come in, I’m going to see if she has that flogger she was making for us.”
Cain nodded and leaned forward to kiss her, hands still firmly pressed to Dean’s ass. “Go on.”
Colette kissed his cheek and shifted one of Cain’s hands, giving Dean a hard slap over the red speckled paper towel. He squawked and glared over his shoulder at her, but Colette was already turning into the crowd, hips swaying.
After treating Dean, Cain nudged him off the table and started wiping it down with the sanitary spray the dungeon provided for their equipment. He hadn’t finished wiping the semen off when Dean was curling an arm around his waist, nuzzling into his neck. The boy was very physically affectionate after a scene. His hand strayed lower to where Cain was semi hard in his jeans.
“Need help with that?”
Cain arched an eyebrow at him. Dean was still flushed red, pupils dilated, squeezing Cain through his jeans. He was insatiable. “On your knees, boy.”
The crowd around their scene had dispersed with the clean up but there were still a few watching, chatting among themselves. Dean was eager to drop to his knees, flinched when he rested back against his heels only to remember the state of his well abused ass. Shifting, face making all sorts of amusing contortions, Dean rested his hands against Cain’s thighs as Cain unbuckled his belt. Unzipping, Cain pushed his fingers through Dean’s hair, “Take what you like.”
Letting Dean control it this time, after being so good for Cain, so willing, Cain pet through his sweat damp hair and dragged his fingers down the shell of Dean’s ears to cup his jaw. Dean licked his lips before sliding his hands up and pulling Cain out, mouth pink and wet, tongue darting out to taste. Kissing down the length, rubbing a stubbled cheek back up, Dean smirked at Cain and did his best to tease Cain to impatience.
Even after having four lines of staples laid in his ass and coming on Cain’s fist, apparently, the boy was still capable of being a little shit.
He was an excellent match for Cain’s temperament, and he was going to drive Colette mad. Cain let him do as his please, stroked across his cheeks and scratched through his hair. Eyes fluttering shut, Dean finally wrapped his lips around the head and sucked. Sighing, Cain slumped and cradled Dean’s face, held in the warm silk of his mouth while a calloused hand stroked the length. Dean bobbed and flicked his tongue, quick sucks down that had Cain’s breath hitching, slow drags back up as Dean hollowed his cheeks.
The boy had a talent for it. The only control Cain took, after a while of this indulgently tender blow job, was to pull Dean back by the hair when he was on the cusp of release. Hand gripped in short hair, Cain held Dean still and Dean left his mouth hanging open, waiting, bright eyes watching, spit trickling down his chin. Cain stroked himself roughly a few pulls and released across the freckle spattered curve of Dean’s cheek, into his wide mouth, striping him white as Dean licked his lips and craned forward to lap the last drops from Cain’s cock.
Tucking himself back in, Cain released Dean.They finished cleaning the space together and moved so others could use it. Dean followed Cain like a puppy at his heels, one hand always on Cain whether it rested on his hip or held onto his arm. Cain made him get food from the snack table, cheeses and chocolates and water, before taking him back to the quieter social areas. They found Colette chatting with Meg about making canes from fiberglass lawn stakes. Cain took the couch opposite them, and Dean stretched out on his belly with his head resting in Cain’s lap. Hand feeding Dean, Cain mostly listened to their conversation.
When Castiel wandered by wearing a collar with a leash on it, Colette caught his attention. Cain said a polite hello, Meg waved Castiel off, and Colette left with him to play. Cain had scened with Castiel a few times, but other than keeping a relationship with Meg he mostly flitted from partner to partner. Colette tended to be fickle as well.
Meg kept Cain’s company a while, while Dean curled up closer to him and nodded off. A patch of drool was seeping through Cain’s jeans. Eventually, Meg left to smoke outside, and another couple took the empty chairs but kept to themselves. Cain was content to sit with Dean half in his lap, stroking through his soft hair and down the expanse of his strong back.
It was late when Dean snorted and startled, sitting up disoriented and wincing when he leaned back on his ass.
“Shit, what time is it?”
Cain pulled his phone out, “Almost one.”
“Damn, I got to get home, I got work tomorrow.”
Cain trailed after him when Dean found his way to the coat area where he’d left his bag and clothes. Helping him gingerly into his pants, Cain was pleased to see that the staple wounds didn’t bleed with the movement.
“Thank you for coming tonight,” he told Dean quietly.
Colette poked her head into the coat room and came over when she saw them.
Dean beamed at Cain, “Yeah, man that stapling shit is weird as hell, but uh, it was pretty good. And the other, um, you’re good with your hands.”
Dean was blushing. It was entirely too endearing.
Cain watched his wife lean forward and demurely kiss Dean on the cheek. When Dean turned towards him, smiling sweetly and fidgeting, Cain reached forward to cup his jaw and pull him in, kissing him firmly on the lips. Dean looked down and shifted, fidgeted more.
“So uh, hey is it all right if I message you between parties?”
Cain nodded, “Of course.”
“Awesome,” Smiling, Dean hefted his play bag a little higher and took a step towards the door. The doorman opened it, rolling his eyes when Dean dawdled. Dean gave a cocky salute. “I’ll be seeing you around then.”
Cain waved, “Drive safe.”
When Dean turned and left, the doorman shut the door. Cain and Colette drifted to the side as she wrapped an arm around his waist. “You’re quite taken with him aren’t you.”
Resting a hand on her shoulder, Cain looked down at her, “What do you mean?”
“You’re very soft for the boy.”
“He’s proven himself a very adept submissive.”
Colette wore her sly smile when she pressed against him, “Maybe we should go home and look at some collars?”
Shuffling out of the way of more people leaving, Cain didn’t answer.
Colette, of course, called out his avoidance, “Oh you have already, haven’t you?”
“I might have,” Cain admitted.
“I wonder if he enjoys domestic service, it’s been a while since we’ve had a kept boy.”
“Don’t you think that’s moving a bit fast?”
Her laughter was breathy and amused when she answered, “It’s always good to have goals.”