Pleasure, when granted, is laced with sweet pain.
One simple act could change your life.
Ian Groden and Taren Murdoch have a good life. Their marriage is solid, and their Dom/sub lifestyle makes for an amazing and extra spicy sex life. Meeting with another man, Kevin, on occasion adds another level of excitement to their marriage.
For Ian, the only thing better than one Dom is two!
Taren loves watching Ian being dominated by Kevin. Ian craves complete submission to Taren when they’re alone again.
Problems arise when Kevin decides he doesn’t want to remain the casual third man. He puts in motion a plan to drive a wedge through Taren and Ian’s relationship, forcing them to fight for each other and their marriage. Can they put their life back together and regain what could be lost?
Ian Groden and Taren Murdoch have a good life. Their marriage is solid, and their Dom/sub lifestyle makes for an amazing and extra spicy sex life. Meeting with another man, Kevin, on occasion adds another level of excitement to their marriage.
For Ian, the only thing better than one Dom is two!
Taren loves watching Ian being dominated by Kevin. Ian craves complete submission to Taren when they’re alone again.
Problems arise when Kevin decides he doesn’t want to remain the casual third man. He puts in motion a plan to drive a wedge through Taren and Ian’s relationship, forcing them to fight for each other and their marriage. Can they put their life back together and regain what could be lost?
Sometimes, one simple act could change your life.
For Ian Groden, one simple act was a recurring event.
The sound of the garage door closing barely registered while he sat in his car and reread the small greeting card in his hand. He started when the alarm on his watch went off. A few seconds later, the auto lock on the door leading from the garage to the house engaged with a click that echoed through the garage.
“Fuck,” Ian spat and crumpled the card in his fist.
Ian shoved out of the car, grabbed his briefcase, and slammed the door shut. “Just fucking perfect!”
He dropped his briefcase next to the two steps leading to the door, sat down, and banged his head against the door.
Ian tended to be a workaholic. His husband, and Dom, Taren Murdoch had rules about a healthy work/home balance. One hard and fast rule was that Ian had to be home by 5 p.m. sharp, any later, and the door locked. If Ian wasn’t inside the house by the time the lock engaged there would be repercussions. If there were an emergency, he could override the code and get in, of course.
Ian preferred not to use the override. In truth, repercussions, discipline--punishment—were things Ian normally looked forward to, and if the mood struck him, he would linger in his car until the lock engaged. Tonight, this was not the case. His home was his sanctuary, and he wanted to get inside.
He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt before fishing his phone from his suit jacket and called Taren.
“Murdoch.”
“The door is locked,” Ian blurted out.
Taren drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Hold on.” Ian heard Taren moving and then he said in a muffled voice, “I have to take this; it’s Ian.” Someone asked if Ian was all right, and Taren’s response was, “Yes, I think so.” A minute later Taren asked, “Are you okay? Was there an emergency at work?”
“N-no. Emergency, I mean.”
“Ian,” Taren spoke slowly, drawing Ian’s name out. “Boy. Are you okay?”
Being called ‘boy’ immediately dropped Ian into his sub role. “Yes. No. Maybe. Sir.”
“Well, that clears everything up.” Taren paused for a minute. “Go inside, get settled, I’ll be home in about an hour, hopefully a little less. Pick out what you’d like to use later this evening if you’re in the mood.”
As if Ian was never in the mood for Taren’s skillful attention.
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” Ian said softly. The lock clicked and Ian opened the door. They both had an app on their phone to lock or unlock the doors remotely. Taren must’ve used his to save Ian from having to override the lock code.
After depositing his briefcase under the table by the door, Ian went to their bedroom. He was relieved Taren hadn’t given him any instructions and left whatever intimate interactions they’d have that night up to him, which left Ian free to make requests.
He tossed the notecard onto his dresser and shed his clothing, then removed the thick, leather codpiece he wore and dropped it onto the bed, leaving the plastic cock cage he wore daily. Cranking the shower on, he stepped under the hot spray and washed the day away. Once the hair gel he wore to slick back his dark hair was gone, and his body was clean, Ian dried off, already feeling better. Tossing the towel into the laundry basket, Ian went back to the bedroom.
Their bedroom was large. When they bought the house, it’d been two rooms. Cutting out an archway created one large space with the bathroom door in the middle. One half of the room was a normal bedroom. Bed, dressers, closets, night tables. Simply looking at the other half made Ian’s heart rate speed up and his groin warm. Even with the cock cage on, his dick tried to swell, creating luscious pressure. He took a few deep breaths to steady and center himself.
The other half was their dungeon. They’d added to it over the years and were always on the lookout for new and fun equipment and toys. The Saint Andrews Cross was their first big purchase. One wall was lined with a peg board to store a variety of whips, cuffs, restraints, gags, hoods, and harnesses. On the adjacent wall was a cabinet. Ian opened the doors to reveal shelves and drawers.
He didn’t give his selection much thought but went on raw emotion. Before he could think rationally about the message carried in the card, Ian needed to hurt, and feel the pain which eventually brought pleasure and, ultimately, clarity of thought.
Ian pulled the e-stim kit from one of the drawers and tossed it on the bed. Next, he grabbed a hood and harness from their resting place on the wall and set those on the bed beside the e-stim.
He scooped up the crumpled notecard and wandered to the kitchen, spreading it out on the kitchen table. He smoothed it with both hands until it lay flat again and stood staring down at it. Barely aware of Taren coming into the house, Ian started when one of Taren’s big, warm hands came to rest on his shoulders.
“Sorry, I thought you heard me,” Taren said softly. He leaned over Ian’s shoulder and kissed his cheek. Reaching around Ian, Taren flicked at the notecard. “Is this what has you so worked up? I got one, too. I didn’t think you’d be upset.”
“It was delivered at work,” Ian mumbled.
He felt Taren shrug. “It’s addressed to both of us and is only an invitation to dinner. That’s not really what’s bothering you, is it?”
“I…” Ian blew out a frustrated breath. “He knows our address. He could’ve just sent one here or emailed,” Ian spat.
Taren pulled a picture postcard from his back pocket and tossed it on the table beside Ian’s notecard. “True. For a guy that works in online gaming tech he sure likes pen and paper.” He paused and pulled out a chair, sitting at the table. “He probably thinks this is more personal, or alluring and mysterious, or just plain fun.”
Ian met Taren’s gaze for a few seconds before focusing on the tabletop. It’d been almost a decade since Ian lost control of the car he was driving during a blizzard and ended up in a ditch. He worried his parents would be angry with him for totaling their car, even though he was the only person who’d driven it for years. Maybe it was he who was more upset because he’d taken the old Buick to college. The thing was built like a tank, and it saved Ian’s life.
In reality, Ian’s parents had been grateful. The worst thing he suffered was a few scrapes and a bruised knee. They’d been equally grateful to the county sheriff who’d pulled Ian from the car, got him food and water, and taken him to the hospital.
Taren Murdoch was kind, soft-spoken, and incredibly capable, with broad shoulders and a quick smile. He’d stayed with Ian until his parents arrived, despite Ian’s protests that it wasn’t necessary. Not wanting to let on how frightened he’d been waiting in the cold and dark for help to arrive, Ian tried to brush off the experience. Taren would have none of it and stayed with Ian for the hours it took his parents to make their way to the hospital.
Taren made Ian feel safe. He was darn nice on the eyes, too. They’d started dating not long after and had been married for nearly eight years. Ian loved Taren, heart and soul. Never once did Ian doubt Taren felt the same way.
“You know it’s your choice. You’re in control of this situation. I’m happy either way. Kevin is…a nice distraction from reality. But I love you. I married you. No one, and I mean no one, comes before that.” Taren swept up both cards and tore them up. “It’s great to help you experience something I was able to, but Christ, Ian, if this is going to cause you so much anxiety, I’ll tell him never to contact us again.”
“It’s not making me anxious,” Ian retorted.
Taren laughed and cocked his head to one side. “Boy, please!”
As when he was on the phone, Taren uttering the word, boy, immediately sent Ian into sub role.
Ian’s gaze dropped to the floor, and he studied his toes. “I’ve laid out some choices for you, Sir.”
“Do you want dinner first?”
Ian shook his head. “No, Sir.”
If Taren wanted to eat first, Ian was obligated by their Dom/sub agreement to accommodate his wishes. For Taren, Ian’s needs always came first. Ian had such admiration and respect for Taren in part because he was an amazing protector. Taren always seemed to know exactly what to do for Ian in any circumstance.
“Did you prep, or should I do that?”
“I prepped, Sir, but if you want to inspect for yourself,” Ian offered.
Taren smiled softly. “No need. I was simply checking, boy. Go wait for me at the cross.”
Ian nodded. He wouldn’t speak unless asked a question. Hurrying to their bedroom, Ian stood on the low platform holding the cross. He hung his wrists over the ‘arms’ of the cross and leaned his forehead against the longer vertical piece.
A few minutes later he heard Taren enter the bedroom. Ian turned his head far enough to watch as Taren shed his work clothes and pulled on a pair of lightweight, black linen pants.
Taren sat on the bed and sorted through the toys and equipment Ian had laid out. Ian had to shift his weight and turn his head the other way when Taren moved to their storage area. Taren added a wooden paddle, wrist and ankle restraints, and plastic nipple clamps. All those items joined Ian’s picks on the bed. Taren cleared his throat, and Ian turned back to the cross, leaning his forehead against it and standing straighter.
The first thing Taren did was fit the hood over Ian’s head, sinking him into darkness. The hood was made of thick rubber with openings for his mouth and nostrils. Ian’s sight was completely blacked out, and his hearing was dampened, everything but the loudest noises were muffled. He’d have little or no warning for Taren’s actions.
Taren pulled gently on the rubber, making sure it was positioned properly. He used two fingers under the hood to make sure Ian’s skin wasn’t pinched or his hair pulled. The purpose of the hood was sensory deprivation, not discomfort or pain.
Ian shuddered and gasped when the nipple clamps were snapped into place. Next, Taren crisscrossed the leather straps of Ian’s harness across his chest and back and buckled it securely. The wide, leather wrist and ankle cuffs were positioned and tightened into place.
The only way Ian knew Taren had moved away was the loss of heat from his body against Ian’s back. He felt Taren return, then jumped when Taren used his hands over Ian’s to have him curl his fingers around the cross and hold on. The vibration against Ian’s back when Taren chuckled added to his overall mood of expectation. Taren ran one hand over Ian’s back before reaching around to put pressure on his belly, getting him to take a step back and extend his arms. He gripped Ian’s hips and pulled back, positioning him, so Ian’s legs were slightly spread, and his ass jutted out.
Ian took a few deep breaths, bracing himself for what he knew was coming next.
Taren pressed a smooth object slick with cool lube against Ian’s anus and moved it in small circles. He knew it was the anal probe, and mere anticipation made Ian tremble. The object was removed, and without warning Taren’s paddle connected with Ian’s rear in short, quick slaps. Ian rocked up on his toes and gasped. With one hand on his shoulder, Taren pushed Ian down.
Then Taren’s hand and body heat were gone.
The suspense lasted less than a minute. Taren stepped close and used the probe to tease Ian again; then, with an excruciatingly slow, steady movement, Taren pushed the probe into Ian. He squeezed Ian’s ass cheeks together, an unspoken command to hold the probe inside. Taren fastened a thick, leather collar around Ian’s neck, then pulled the straps of the harness around Ian’s chest and waist, adjusting them so the harness stayed firmly in place. Everything Ian wore used plastic or heavy rubber clasps.
With every inhale Ian’s chest expanded, and the leather bit into his skin with just enough pressure to almost hurt.
Ian felt Taren’s hands on him, warm and strong and sure, turning Ian so his back was against the cross. Ian’s ankles and wrists were wrapped in the leather restraints and hooked to the cross, as was the strap around his waist. He sucked in a sharp breath and shuddered when Taren removed his cock cage.
After a week of being caged, Ian shivered uncontrollably, knowing what was in store for him.
Taren took hold of Ian’s cock and slid a flexible ring down his shaft, yanking it tight around the base of Ian’s cock making him suck in a harsh breath. Ian would’ve jumped but his restraints and bindings held him in place when a smooth, thin object skimmed along his cock, buzzing with electricity. Ian panted. He wanted to beg but was forbidden to speak unless spoken to.
The heat from Taren’s body faded away, along with the delicious humming along his cock. They had a large variety of e-stim toys, so Ian had no idea exactly how Taren would deliver the shocks provided by the e-stim power box.
A probe advanced through his slit filling his cock and heralding the sensations of Taren’s body close to Ian once again. A ring with small balls, Ian knew they were gold, was fitted firmly under his glans. He felt Taren’s warm, sure fingers attach the electrodes that led from the power box.
Ian might’ve heard the low hum that began coursing through the electrodes without the hood. He would’ve been able to see and hear Taren’s movements. Being deprived of his senses in such a way heightened his experience. It required complete trust in Taren to be bound and restrained to prevent movement, blinded, and able to hear only the loudest sounds.
Tingling assaulted his prostate, and at the same time, his cock began to buzz when the probe came to life. Ian pulled in a deep breath and moaned. His hips rolled forward, causing Ian to arch away from the cross, completely supported by his restraints. Ian’s breathing hitched while he made a conscious effort to tighten and release his ass muscles until they began slow, steady spasms independent of his brain’s commands.
Ian sank deeper into the sensations created by the ebb and flow of the electric current. His abs and groin shook, and his legs felt like wet, wobbly noodles. Taren increased the power until Ian’s breathing was a series of desperate moans. Then without warning the current decreased. The trembling and quivering of his body intensified with each cycle of increasing and decreasing current.
Moisture dripped from Ian’s cock. A thin trickle at first inching down his shaft, warm, sticky, and making him itch added to the combined sensations of his body and the electricity pinging his prostate and vibrating through his cock.
Warmth spread through his shaking loins, a gentle throbbing started in his ass and expanded to take over his groin. His whole body jerked and shook. Taren turned up the current, and the throbbing turned to a wave crashing over him, causing his muscles to spasm almost violently. He grunted in rapid succession before he could take deep breaths.
The trickle of liquid turned into a flood. His cock twitched almost painfully at first, but as more jizz was released, his cock relaxed and finally stilled. But Taren didn’t stop there. He continued to increase and decrease the flow of electricity until Ian’s moans turned to desperate gasps and sobs consuming his entire body in shudders.
Ian had no idea how much time he spent in that space before he felt Taren disconnect the electrodes. The probes, rings, and clamps were removed, making Ian’s body twitch even more. Using one hand to hold Ian to the cross, Taren unhooked the restraints before scooping Ian into his arms and carrying him to the bed, laying him gently on his back. The hood was removed carefully so there was no pulling on Ian’s hair. He wiped Ian’s groin and legs down with a warm, damp wash cloth creating a new shockwave through Ian’s body. Finally, Taren pulled a sheet over his shoulders, and Ian’s eye lids drifted shut.
When Ian opened his eyes again, the light in the room was much dimmer than when he’d first gone in to wait for Taren. He stretched and sat up, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. He sat there for a minute to get his bearings before he stood on shaky legs. His thighs ached from the stress on his muscles. It felt good. There was a pair of jogging shorts on the bed that Ian stepped into. The wrist and ankle restraints had been removed, but he still wore the harness and collar. His codpiece was on the bed.
For Ian Groden, one simple act was a recurring event.
The sound of the garage door closing barely registered while he sat in his car and reread the small greeting card in his hand. He started when the alarm on his watch went off. A few seconds later, the auto lock on the door leading from the garage to the house engaged with a click that echoed through the garage.
“Fuck,” Ian spat and crumpled the card in his fist.
Ian shoved out of the car, grabbed his briefcase, and slammed the door shut. “Just fucking perfect!”
He dropped his briefcase next to the two steps leading to the door, sat down, and banged his head against the door.
Ian tended to be a workaholic. His husband, and Dom, Taren Murdoch had rules about a healthy work/home balance. One hard and fast rule was that Ian had to be home by 5 p.m. sharp, any later, and the door locked. If Ian wasn’t inside the house by the time the lock engaged there would be repercussions. If there were an emergency, he could override the code and get in, of course.
Ian preferred not to use the override. In truth, repercussions, discipline--punishment—were things Ian normally looked forward to, and if the mood struck him, he would linger in his car until the lock engaged. Tonight, this was not the case. His home was his sanctuary, and he wanted to get inside.
He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt before fishing his phone from his suit jacket and called Taren.
“Murdoch.”
“The door is locked,” Ian blurted out.
Taren drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Hold on.” Ian heard Taren moving and then he said in a muffled voice, “I have to take this; it’s Ian.” Someone asked if Ian was all right, and Taren’s response was, “Yes, I think so.” A minute later Taren asked, “Are you okay? Was there an emergency at work?”
“N-no. Emergency, I mean.”
“Ian,” Taren spoke slowly, drawing Ian’s name out. “Boy. Are you okay?”
Being called ‘boy’ immediately dropped Ian into his sub role. “Yes. No. Maybe. Sir.”
“Well, that clears everything up.” Taren paused for a minute. “Go inside, get settled, I’ll be home in about an hour, hopefully a little less. Pick out what you’d like to use later this evening if you’re in the mood.”
As if Ian was never in the mood for Taren’s skillful attention.
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” Ian said softly. The lock clicked and Ian opened the door. They both had an app on their phone to lock or unlock the doors remotely. Taren must’ve used his to save Ian from having to override the lock code.
After depositing his briefcase under the table by the door, Ian went to their bedroom. He was relieved Taren hadn’t given him any instructions and left whatever intimate interactions they’d have that night up to him, which left Ian free to make requests.
He tossed the notecard onto his dresser and shed his clothing, then removed the thick, leather codpiece he wore and dropped it onto the bed, leaving the plastic cock cage he wore daily. Cranking the shower on, he stepped under the hot spray and washed the day away. Once the hair gel he wore to slick back his dark hair was gone, and his body was clean, Ian dried off, already feeling better. Tossing the towel into the laundry basket, Ian went back to the bedroom.
Their bedroom was large. When they bought the house, it’d been two rooms. Cutting out an archway created one large space with the bathroom door in the middle. One half of the room was a normal bedroom. Bed, dressers, closets, night tables. Simply looking at the other half made Ian’s heart rate speed up and his groin warm. Even with the cock cage on, his dick tried to swell, creating luscious pressure. He took a few deep breaths to steady and center himself.
The other half was their dungeon. They’d added to it over the years and were always on the lookout for new and fun equipment and toys. The Saint Andrews Cross was their first big purchase. One wall was lined with a peg board to store a variety of whips, cuffs, restraints, gags, hoods, and harnesses. On the adjacent wall was a cabinet. Ian opened the doors to reveal shelves and drawers.
He didn’t give his selection much thought but went on raw emotion. Before he could think rationally about the message carried in the card, Ian needed to hurt, and feel the pain which eventually brought pleasure and, ultimately, clarity of thought.
Ian pulled the e-stim kit from one of the drawers and tossed it on the bed. Next, he grabbed a hood and harness from their resting place on the wall and set those on the bed beside the e-stim.
He scooped up the crumpled notecard and wandered to the kitchen, spreading it out on the kitchen table. He smoothed it with both hands until it lay flat again and stood staring down at it. Barely aware of Taren coming into the house, Ian started when one of Taren’s big, warm hands came to rest on his shoulders.
“Sorry, I thought you heard me,” Taren said softly. He leaned over Ian’s shoulder and kissed his cheek. Reaching around Ian, Taren flicked at the notecard. “Is this what has you so worked up? I got one, too. I didn’t think you’d be upset.”
“It was delivered at work,” Ian mumbled.
He felt Taren shrug. “It’s addressed to both of us and is only an invitation to dinner. That’s not really what’s bothering you, is it?”
“I…” Ian blew out a frustrated breath. “He knows our address. He could’ve just sent one here or emailed,” Ian spat.
Taren pulled a picture postcard from his back pocket and tossed it on the table beside Ian’s notecard. “True. For a guy that works in online gaming tech he sure likes pen and paper.” He paused and pulled out a chair, sitting at the table. “He probably thinks this is more personal, or alluring and mysterious, or just plain fun.”
Ian met Taren’s gaze for a few seconds before focusing on the tabletop. It’d been almost a decade since Ian lost control of the car he was driving during a blizzard and ended up in a ditch. He worried his parents would be angry with him for totaling their car, even though he was the only person who’d driven it for years. Maybe it was he who was more upset because he’d taken the old Buick to college. The thing was built like a tank, and it saved Ian’s life.
In reality, Ian’s parents had been grateful. The worst thing he suffered was a few scrapes and a bruised knee. They’d been equally grateful to the county sheriff who’d pulled Ian from the car, got him food and water, and taken him to the hospital.
Taren Murdoch was kind, soft-spoken, and incredibly capable, with broad shoulders and a quick smile. He’d stayed with Ian until his parents arrived, despite Ian’s protests that it wasn’t necessary. Not wanting to let on how frightened he’d been waiting in the cold and dark for help to arrive, Ian tried to brush off the experience. Taren would have none of it and stayed with Ian for the hours it took his parents to make their way to the hospital.
Taren made Ian feel safe. He was darn nice on the eyes, too. They’d started dating not long after and had been married for nearly eight years. Ian loved Taren, heart and soul. Never once did Ian doubt Taren felt the same way.
“You know it’s your choice. You’re in control of this situation. I’m happy either way. Kevin is…a nice distraction from reality. But I love you. I married you. No one, and I mean no one, comes before that.” Taren swept up both cards and tore them up. “It’s great to help you experience something I was able to, but Christ, Ian, if this is going to cause you so much anxiety, I’ll tell him never to contact us again.”
“It’s not making me anxious,” Ian retorted.
Taren laughed and cocked his head to one side. “Boy, please!”
As when he was on the phone, Taren uttering the word, boy, immediately sent Ian into sub role.
Ian’s gaze dropped to the floor, and he studied his toes. “I’ve laid out some choices for you, Sir.”
“Do you want dinner first?”
Ian shook his head. “No, Sir.”
If Taren wanted to eat first, Ian was obligated by their Dom/sub agreement to accommodate his wishes. For Taren, Ian’s needs always came first. Ian had such admiration and respect for Taren in part because he was an amazing protector. Taren always seemed to know exactly what to do for Ian in any circumstance.
“Did you prep, or should I do that?”
“I prepped, Sir, but if you want to inspect for yourself,” Ian offered.
Taren smiled softly. “No need. I was simply checking, boy. Go wait for me at the cross.”
Ian nodded. He wouldn’t speak unless asked a question. Hurrying to their bedroom, Ian stood on the low platform holding the cross. He hung his wrists over the ‘arms’ of the cross and leaned his forehead against the longer vertical piece.
A few minutes later he heard Taren enter the bedroom. Ian turned his head far enough to watch as Taren shed his work clothes and pulled on a pair of lightweight, black linen pants.
Taren sat on the bed and sorted through the toys and equipment Ian had laid out. Ian had to shift his weight and turn his head the other way when Taren moved to their storage area. Taren added a wooden paddle, wrist and ankle restraints, and plastic nipple clamps. All those items joined Ian’s picks on the bed. Taren cleared his throat, and Ian turned back to the cross, leaning his forehead against it and standing straighter.
The first thing Taren did was fit the hood over Ian’s head, sinking him into darkness. The hood was made of thick rubber with openings for his mouth and nostrils. Ian’s sight was completely blacked out, and his hearing was dampened, everything but the loudest noises were muffled. He’d have little or no warning for Taren’s actions.
Taren pulled gently on the rubber, making sure it was positioned properly. He used two fingers under the hood to make sure Ian’s skin wasn’t pinched or his hair pulled. The purpose of the hood was sensory deprivation, not discomfort or pain.
Ian shuddered and gasped when the nipple clamps were snapped into place. Next, Taren crisscrossed the leather straps of Ian’s harness across his chest and back and buckled it securely. The wide, leather wrist and ankle cuffs were positioned and tightened into place.
The only way Ian knew Taren had moved away was the loss of heat from his body against Ian’s back. He felt Taren return, then jumped when Taren used his hands over Ian’s to have him curl his fingers around the cross and hold on. The vibration against Ian’s back when Taren chuckled added to his overall mood of expectation. Taren ran one hand over Ian’s back before reaching around to put pressure on his belly, getting him to take a step back and extend his arms. He gripped Ian’s hips and pulled back, positioning him, so Ian’s legs were slightly spread, and his ass jutted out.
Ian took a few deep breaths, bracing himself for what he knew was coming next.
Taren pressed a smooth object slick with cool lube against Ian’s anus and moved it in small circles. He knew it was the anal probe, and mere anticipation made Ian tremble. The object was removed, and without warning Taren’s paddle connected with Ian’s rear in short, quick slaps. Ian rocked up on his toes and gasped. With one hand on his shoulder, Taren pushed Ian down.
Then Taren’s hand and body heat were gone.
The suspense lasted less than a minute. Taren stepped close and used the probe to tease Ian again; then, with an excruciatingly slow, steady movement, Taren pushed the probe into Ian. He squeezed Ian’s ass cheeks together, an unspoken command to hold the probe inside. Taren fastened a thick, leather collar around Ian’s neck, then pulled the straps of the harness around Ian’s chest and waist, adjusting them so the harness stayed firmly in place. Everything Ian wore used plastic or heavy rubber clasps.
With every inhale Ian’s chest expanded, and the leather bit into his skin with just enough pressure to almost hurt.
Ian felt Taren’s hands on him, warm and strong and sure, turning Ian so his back was against the cross. Ian’s ankles and wrists were wrapped in the leather restraints and hooked to the cross, as was the strap around his waist. He sucked in a sharp breath and shuddered when Taren removed his cock cage.
After a week of being caged, Ian shivered uncontrollably, knowing what was in store for him.
Taren took hold of Ian’s cock and slid a flexible ring down his shaft, yanking it tight around the base of Ian’s cock making him suck in a harsh breath. Ian would’ve jumped but his restraints and bindings held him in place when a smooth, thin object skimmed along his cock, buzzing with electricity. Ian panted. He wanted to beg but was forbidden to speak unless spoken to.
The heat from Taren’s body faded away, along with the delicious humming along his cock. They had a large variety of e-stim toys, so Ian had no idea exactly how Taren would deliver the shocks provided by the e-stim power box.
A probe advanced through his slit filling his cock and heralding the sensations of Taren’s body close to Ian once again. A ring with small balls, Ian knew they were gold, was fitted firmly under his glans. He felt Taren’s warm, sure fingers attach the electrodes that led from the power box.
Ian might’ve heard the low hum that began coursing through the electrodes without the hood. He would’ve been able to see and hear Taren’s movements. Being deprived of his senses in such a way heightened his experience. It required complete trust in Taren to be bound and restrained to prevent movement, blinded, and able to hear only the loudest sounds.
Tingling assaulted his prostate, and at the same time, his cock began to buzz when the probe came to life. Ian pulled in a deep breath and moaned. His hips rolled forward, causing Ian to arch away from the cross, completely supported by his restraints. Ian’s breathing hitched while he made a conscious effort to tighten and release his ass muscles until they began slow, steady spasms independent of his brain’s commands.
Ian sank deeper into the sensations created by the ebb and flow of the electric current. His abs and groin shook, and his legs felt like wet, wobbly noodles. Taren increased the power until Ian’s breathing was a series of desperate moans. Then without warning the current decreased. The trembling and quivering of his body intensified with each cycle of increasing and decreasing current.
Moisture dripped from Ian’s cock. A thin trickle at first inching down his shaft, warm, sticky, and making him itch added to the combined sensations of his body and the electricity pinging his prostate and vibrating through his cock.
Warmth spread through his shaking loins, a gentle throbbing started in his ass and expanded to take over his groin. His whole body jerked and shook. Taren turned up the current, and the throbbing turned to a wave crashing over him, causing his muscles to spasm almost violently. He grunted in rapid succession before he could take deep breaths.
The trickle of liquid turned into a flood. His cock twitched almost painfully at first, but as more jizz was released, his cock relaxed and finally stilled. But Taren didn’t stop there. He continued to increase and decrease the flow of electricity until Ian’s moans turned to desperate gasps and sobs consuming his entire body in shudders.
Ian had no idea how much time he spent in that space before he felt Taren disconnect the electrodes. The probes, rings, and clamps were removed, making Ian’s body twitch even more. Using one hand to hold Ian to the cross, Taren unhooked the restraints before scooping Ian into his arms and carrying him to the bed, laying him gently on his back. The hood was removed carefully so there was no pulling on Ian’s hair. He wiped Ian’s groin and legs down with a warm, damp wash cloth creating a new shockwave through Ian’s body. Finally, Taren pulled a sheet over his shoulders, and Ian’s eye lids drifted shut.
When Ian opened his eyes again, the light in the room was much dimmer than when he’d first gone in to wait for Taren. He stretched and sat up, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. He sat there for a minute to get his bearings before he stood on shaky legs. His thighs ached from the stress on his muscles. It felt good. There was a pair of jogging shorts on the bed that Ian stepped into. The wrist and ankle restraints had been removed, but he still wore the harness and collar. His codpiece was on the bed.