That was what was known as a mind fuck.
For me, of course. Not necessarily Brax. He would be at Zeke’s mercy once he was strapped down, which would be a mind fuck of its own. I, however, would be forced to watch whatever it was Zeke decided to do to him.
With a swift go-ahead motion, Zeke urged Brax up onto the bench. He got into position on all fours, his chest lying flat on the vinyl-padded center, his hands and knees supported on padded bars that ran the length of it. The lower half of his body was at the end of the padded center, his cock hanging down, his ass tilted slightly upward.
“Get comfortable,” Zeke said with a devious snarl. “You’re gonna be here a while.”
Brax shifted a couple of times, and the moment he stilled, Zeke went to work strapping him down. His wrists were cuffed so his hands wouldn’t move, two straps were pulled over his back—one over his shoulder blades, the other right above his ass—and tightly secured so he couldn’t lift up his chest. His calves were then banded to the bench beneath his knees and then his ankles, keeping his legs firmly in place. And finally, Zeke hooked something to Brax’s collar, which kept him from moving his head to the side. He was forced to look forward, unable to see what Zeke would be doing to him.
From my position on the wall, I had a perfect view of Brax’s ass, which was pointed upward as though in offering. I’d fucked that ass many, many times and I would never tire of seeing him in that position. His thick cock and heavy balls hung down, completely vulnerable to Zeke’s devious intentions.
“I went easy on you at the club last night, cowboy,” Zeke told him as he walked around, admiring his handiwork. “You’re not gonna be so lucky this go-round.”
I couldn’t see Brax’s face, but I could tell by the relaxed position of his body, he was okay with that.
Zeke disappeared into that closet once more, and when he returned, he was carrying a silicone paddle and a ball gag. He paused at the door, then reached over and turned up the music. It was loud, but not so loud we wouldn’t hear Zeke talking.
He laid the paddle across Brax’s back, then went to work fixing the gag into his mouth. It was a constant reminder of the gag I currently had stuffed in my mouth. I could moan and groan all I wanted, but it wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference. Aside from that, I was pretty much limited to drooling, and the more I tried to say something, the more I would. Not a pretty sight.
I was effectively trussed up with no means of escape. And the thought alone made my dick hard. Something I was completely aware of since I could feel the pinprick of those steel screws poking into my dick. It wasn’t unpleasant—yet—which, again, was a testament to how warped and twisted I was.
Zeke squatted in front of Brax and held up a bell similar to the one he had put in my hand. “There are no safe words. So unless you are bleeding or a bone is breaking, you better not use this.” Zeke’s smile was pure evil. “Considering your mouth is full, this is the only way I’ll know.”
After tucking the bell into Brax’s hand, he stood and moved behind him. He took the silicone paddle and turned to face me. The man didn’t say anything, but I could tell he wanted me to be fully aware of what he was about to do. He smirked, then turned his attention back to Brax.
I found myself holding my breath when Zeke set the paddle on the small of Brax’s back before kneading his ass firmly. He pinched and grabbed his flesh, plumping it. The circulation would be stimulated, which would make that damn paddle feel like the devil himself had taken to his ass.
Zeke picked up the paddle again and stepped to the side before rearing back and landing it firmly on Brax’s ass. Brax cried out—the sound muffled by the gag—his body jerking. Zeke swatted him several more times. The music pulsing in the room added to the intensity. It wasn’t loud, but it was effective. By no means did it block out the sound of that silicone slapping against Brax’s firm ass.
After several swats, Zeke reached between Brax’s legs and fisted his cock.
“I take it you enjoy having your ass beat,” he said, pumping Brax’s dick a few times before landing several more swats. He continued this for several minutes until Brax was effectively squirming, moaning unintelligible things through the gag in his mouth.
“I do like how red your ass gets, cowboy.” Zeke slapped him again and again. He wasn’t pulling any punches as he shifted and moved so not to focus on the same spot. By warning Brax that he wouldn’t go easy, it was as though Zeke had all the permission he needed. Then again, he did because Brax and I had given it to him unconditionally.
