(Mb, reluc, cons, mast, bond.)
By rectificatory (@protonmail.com)
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The boy sat huddled on the bed, sat in the corner furthest from the door to the room. Pillows, duvet, blankets--they had all been removed, the only thing left on the grey metal frame was a plain white linen sheet covering the firm mattress. Knees pulled tightly to his chest, thins arm ending in spidery fingers--the nails roughly chewed--were wrapped around his shins, compressing his slight frame into the smallest space possible. Much like the bed below him, the boy had been divested of his coverings, but was left without even the simplest linen garment to cover his nakedness. If he had stood, he would have measured a little over five feet tall, topped with a mop of black, wavy hair, the only thing visible of his head now as he buried his face in his knees.
Little sound could be heard except for the fast, shallow breathing and the subtle creak of bed springs as he rocked back and forth. The boy though could hear the unnatural quickness of his heartbeat pounding in his chest and felt the unnatural tightness around the pumping muscle as if a foreign hand were gripping it firmly. His skin prickled, not from the cool air of the room, but from inside-out like ant crawling under his skin. The ringing in his ears, the red darkness in front of his eyes and the salty sweet smell of his own sweat filled his other senses as he waited, trying to prepare himself for what was about to occur.
The sudden noise of metal scraping on metal and wood rubbing against wood told the boy that the man had arrived, but he made no sound nor movement to indicate that he was aware of it. Tall, well-built and moving with a purposeful stride, the man approached the bed with heavy footfalls, his face a mask of neutrality. The bag that he had been carrying was unceremoniously dropped onto the bed as he came to a stop before the boy. Swaying left and right in addition to the forward and backward motion as the mattress reverberated under him, the boy still made no sign of being aware of the man's presence.
A sharp buzzing sound filled the air as the man unzipped the canvas bag and the faint aroma of leather began to pour out of the opening. Rummaging through the dark interior that man pulled out the object he had been searching for and in a calm, measured, almost detached voice commanded the boy to "Give me your leg." A ripple passed through his body as he reflexively drew his legs more tightly to his body, quaking and rocking on the spot. "Give me your leg." the man repeated more sternly this time, but without sounding displeased with the boy's lack of response, or even raising his voice. Slowly, tentatively, the boy extended his left leg towards the man, his arm coiling more tightly around the right and his face resting in the crook of his elbow, green eyes peeping over the top for a brief moment as he took stock of what the man was doing.
Without a word of praise or thanks at the boy's efforts, the man set about his task, moving the leather, fleece and metal strip to the boy's foot. The cuff fit perfectly around the slim ankle, pulled tight and buckled with ease, the leather soft and slightly cracked, the holes scuffed and larger than they had once been, the metal buckle glinting his the light dulled by a layer of fingerprints. With more force that would be expected, the shackled ankle fell to the bed, draw towards the surface by the extra weight, a dozen small metal plates attached to the leather making movement for the boy more difficult. There was a pause in which the man waited for the boy to volunteer his other ankle to be strapped up, but the boy remained still. "The other leg." the man commanded and the boy compiled.
With the second leg now a mirror of the first, the man retrieved a third cuff from the bag and requested the boy's arm, neatly attaching the restraint around the tiny wrist. The boy's knuckles were white, slim fingers balled into tight fists, crushing his thumb underneath them. The trembling arm sagged and the hand was captured by gravity as the man released his newly shackled wrist, dropping to the surface of the bed, slowed at the last moment as the boy regained some measure of control of his quaking limb. A fourth and final cuff left the depths of the bag, and met the boy's other wrist in the void between himself and the man with not instruction needed.
Legs stretched out in front of him and having to use his hands to steady himself, the boy sat and waited impassively for the man to continue. Reaching out to the boy's head, the man ran his finger around the inside of the thin collar surrounding his neck, drawing it away from the trembling body until the black pendant met his hand. Some two inches long, about half an inch wide and covered with a dozen circular protrusions, the man pressed the object against the boy's lips, and with some effort, parted them pushing it into the cavity and waiting for his teeth to clamp down on it before he released it.
Several coils of rope were removed from the bag next; deep purple, thick and strong, with which the man began to bind the boy's legs. Tightly the rope was tied, first around the feet then the boy's calves. Intricate patterns criss-crossing the tender, supple skin, making deep indents in the flesh as it was pulled ever tighter. The boy's thighs were similarly bound, the dark purple of the rope contrasting with the white-ish pink of the increasingly restrained limbs, both legs being pulled as close together as possible. Upon reaching the groin the man found a narrow and stubbing penis, utterly limp and barely two inches long in its flaccid state, which he ignored and continued his rope work, binding the boy's torso.
He watched the rhythmic rising and falling of the boy's chest, removing the slack in the ropes to hold the boy in a firm grip, his hand resting for a second over the steadily beating heart as he began the task of encircling first the left arm--when the boy was commanded to give it--then the right. Before long the arms were pulled behind his back, his hands clasping the forearms just below the elbow automatically before the man lashed them together. The man gave the entirety of his labour once final check, adjusting a knot here and there to make sure they were tight enough of had enough give in them so to not damage the boy, and he stepped back, pleased with his work.
Leaning down to the ground, the man picked up a dark grey, segmented blanket with some effort--as it was heavier than it looked--and placed it onto the bed. Quickly scooping up the pillow and forming them into a reclining seat for himself atop the mattress, he effortlessly scooped the boy up into his arm and deposited him gently into his lap where he could feel the slim chest expanding and contracting slowly and deeply. As he pulled the weighted blanket over the boy, covering his entire body, the man could feel the regular, strong beat of his heart through the boy's back, and looking down from above, past the dark, sweaty hair he could see a beautific smile on his lips, the well-gnawed block of silicone rubber having been dropped from them and hanging on it's thin strap. If the boy's eyes had not been open, the man would have presumed that he was sleeping, but they were open and gazing up at him, bright and focused.
* * *
"Feeling better Evan?" the man asked, his voice warm as his own arms surrounded the boy's over the blanket, hugging him tightly. "Yes Adam." came the reply in a contented sigh. "Pretty rough one, eh?" asked Adam surveying the room, discarded clothes, both from child and bed, littered the floor; a model aeroplane, half-constructed and several pieces half-painted, littered a small desk with a bright lamp shining down upon it; an assortment of little cubes with ball-bearings, dials, switches, buttons and tactile surfaces were scattered here and there. "Yeah." said Evan, rocking gently side-to-side in Adam's lap, enjoying the comforting sensation that the pressure of the ropes and the weight of the cuffs and blanket gave him. "Can we stay here for a little while?" he asked hopefully. "Of course we can." Adam told him as he looked down the boy's almost entirely relaxed body.
Thick fingers were stroking his hair displacing the beads of sweat that had gathered there making them run down his neck. Evan shivered as a cool droplet trickled down the side of his head, over his cheek and to his shoulder before being absorbed by the rope. The tips of Adam's finger followed its path, taking a small detour to tickle the rim of the boy's ear, eliciting a light, sweet giggle before moving on. Dipping underneath the blanket and following the ropes, lovingly touching the soft skin between them, Adam proceeded to move his hand along Evan's body getting lower and lower with each passing second. Coming to rest at the boy's bald pubis he began to rub it with a slow, gentle caress, making long lazy circles with the tips of his fingers and watching the boy's natural reaction.
"You know there's some research coming out of Canada to suggest that the release of dopamine and oxytocin can help alleviate..." Adam began to say in a casual tone, his finger drifting closer to the firm three-inch penis bobbing between the ropes. "I read that article too!" Evan said eagerly, twisting his neck to look up at the man's face. "Did you happen to read how that release was achieved?" Adam asked teasingly, his knuckles glancing across the exposed, purple glans of the boy's rod. "Yes..." Evan breathed, a soft sigh leaving his lips at the moment of contact. "Would you like me to help you with that?" the man asked the bound boy, deliberately stopping the movement of his hand, letting it rest of the boy's stomach. "Yes!" the boy hissed, an edge of annoyance in his voice.
The man deftly gathered the bottom of the blanket, folding it in two over the boy's chest, doubling the calming pressure he felt and exposing the pale legs and groin. As his shaft was grasped delicately by Adam, Evan gasped and sighed, flexing his hips as much as his restraints would allow, trying to maximize the contact between his flesh and the man's. "Maybe I should just stay still and let you do all the work." Adam said, continuing his teasing, but with a whimper of frustration from Evan--who could not get enough leverage in his current state to effectively pump against the man's encircling fingers--the man began his slow, sensual strokes of the boy's stalk, eliciting grunts and gasps, moans and groans of youthful pleasure from the boy. "Faster." begged Evan after several minutes of carefully measured pleasure and more futile pumping of the hips. "Shh," whispered Adam softly, his warm breath tickling the boy's earlobe, "This is a marathon, not a sprint, Adam. We'll get there just like usual, you don't have to worry." Following in inaudible murmur of frustration Evan tilted his head back, and looking up at Adam, informed him that, "But sprinting feels better, especially the finish."
* * *
Two days later Evan was admiring his gift from Adam, holding it up between himself and his mirror to see how it would look on him. "You can put it on you know." Adam told him sounding amused. Evan hefted the charcoal grey hoodie over his arm and unzipped the front of it. To the casual observer the jacket was like any other, a uniform colour, two large pockets on the front, a cord to tighten the hood around the head, and an embroidered logo. But what made it different became apparent as Evan put it on and refastened it around his body. The comforting pressure and weight surrounded him, making him feel like he was being constantly hugged by a pair of big strong arms. "I love it." he told Adam, hugging himself to increase the effect and turning to the man, a big smile on his face, "But I still think I still prefer the ropes and cuffs, and with you hugging me and stuff..." he added with a wink.
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