For your pleasure


Warning: BDSM -and it's tough!

Thanks to Eliza for her wonderful, clever beta and her encouragements.

Dedicated to Alex (Mouse): thank you for helping me out with my LJ!


He was asleep in the tentative light of dawn, lost in dreams, breathing slowly, his wrists tied loose behind his back, his pale skin painted with bruises and welts –his ass, his back, his thighs, his shoulders; and his lips were swollen, fleeting testimony of the past hours. Leaning above him, the man brushed his fingertips against the stubbly jaw, across the thick blond hair, eliciting a small moan of protest from the sleeping form. Glancing at the clock, the man smiled. Five more minutes, just five more minutes of peace and innocence, five minutes to watch him sleep and enjoy the sight of the worn naked body next to him, curled up on the bed in the warm room.
Then, too fast, it was seven.


Rough fingers on his cock jolted him out of a deep dreamless sleep, and he arched his body thoughtlessly to give in to the caress, moaning when the fingers pulled away, wanting more.

"It's seven. Deal's over."

He tried to move but he was tied up. Deal's over? Words sank in slowly as hands came to his wrists to untie him, the hard mattress shifting under the man's weight.

"Are you OK?"
He nodded, felt a glass shoved into his hand and drank. Cold water, easing his throat.

"You said yesterday… We could extend the deal."

The glass was taken away, he was pushed back on the bed and the fingers were back, everywhere, hurting, just touching but hurting all the same, reminding him of every mark, every bruise, every bite, reminding him how painful, how good it had been, sizzling memories dancing all along his body. He could smell the man, the intoxicating smell of sweat and sex and something that was the man's scent and his own, on him.

"Do you want that?" Steady dark voice, controlled and sensuous. His own was shaking, hell, he was shaking.

The hands again seizing him, assessing him, checking the damage, trying to evaluate how much more the abused body could take, hesitating, tempted. He'd been good, he knew he'd been just what the man craved, he shut his eyes under the soft touch of the mouth roaming all over his face.

"OK, new deal. 24 hours. No safe word. No limit," the man said in a husky voice. "Take it or leave it."

No safe word, no limit. He breathed deeply, felt his cock twitch, snorted, ashamed, aroused. /I'm crazy./

"What happens after that?"
"After that nothing happens, you go home. Think about it, I'll make coffee."

Which meant a whole day and a night left to recover before Gen and the kids' return. The bruises, the marks would still be visible but at that moment, he didn't give a damn, and after all she didn't see him naked anymore, did she? He closed his eyes, heard footsteps, noises inside the kitchen and a delicious smell spread through the room. Then the man was back with a cup of coffee.

"I'll take the deal."

The man nodded, unmoved, watched him drink and took the cup away.

"Tell me your real name, then."
"Tobias." Hell, he didn't even like his own name, but what did he like about himself?
"Toby will do," the man said.
"And what's yours?"

He was slapped in the face, twice, hard enough to bring tears.
"Stupid move, Toby." The man's voice was dreamy, anticipating the pleasure, soft like it had been in the bar, the threat hidden below the velvet tone.

"But first we need some more sleep."

Toby stretched like a cat, yawning, and strong hands seized his thighs, spreading them wide apart, fingers bruising the skin there, nails scratching, fingers resting along his cock, then tracing the crease of his ass, circling his hole, teasing him, making him push back against them, the other hand on his back keeping him still.

"Now sleep." The hands deserted his body, he could've yelled in frustration but kept quiet.

He didn't fall asleep at once, pictures of the kids, of his wife, playing under his eyelids, tears burning. What had she said? He was boring, sex with him was boring, he wasn't the man she needed, he wasn't what she'd hoped and she'd met someone else at the club, she wanted to leave, wanted the money, wanted the kids… Leaving him speechless and torn with pain and since then he'd been cruising in leather bars, relentlessly, dangerously, afraid that she'd find out and take the kids away, but needing the pain, oh God needing it so much.

He yelled when a hard blow landed on his ass, fingers yanking at his hair, pulling his head back, as a mouth growled against his jaw.

"Stop it… I can hear you thinking. I said 'sleep'. Believe me, you'll need it."

It had been a cold winter evening, shortly after Christmas and like every time Gen and the kids were gone he'd gone out cruising in a new bar downtown, half-interested. The men had been too young, mostly around 20, dressed to be looked at, displaying themselves, nothing serious, nothing for him. He'd watched a naked, chained, bound, gagged kneeling man being whipped half-heartedly by another man on a platform in the middle of the room, guys around yelling obscenities. It had been a bad show, too much metal, too much leather, too much noise, nothing real. He'd been about to leave and go home, pick up a book and spend a healthy evening for once, but stepping back, he'd bumped into a hard body and two hands had gripped his arms like vices, steadying him as he was about to fall, stilling him as he was about to walk out, forcing him to watch as he was about to give up.

"I've been watching you," a deep voice had said along his cheek, "you deserve better than this shit," and he'd shivered not because of the words, but because of the entrancing voice caressing him like silk and leather, so hot, so what he needed, he'd gasped as the lips trailed along the side of his throat, teeth grazing his skin.

"Were you waiting for me?"

He'd wanted to turn, see the man but the hands were unyielding, holding him still. After a while, fingers snaked to his crotch, grasping. "I think you were."

"Maybe." Wry tone, eliciting a soft laugh, a low rumbling.
"Deal. You're mine from now on until tomorrow 7 am. You know the rules, don't you? No talking unless I tell you, no fighting me, no struggling," the man had said in a monotonous voice, "no blood. You choose the safe word. If you use it, I'll stop and bring you back here."
"I want to see you."

Fingers bruising his flesh, teeth biting sharply, strong frame against his.
"Just fucking say yes or no."
"Yes," he'd said, giving in to the touch and the voice and the body close to him.
"OK, let's go. My place."

Then he'd been allowed to turn and his eyes had locked with a pair of blue, dark eyes, peering into his, eyes burning with desire; he'd seen the hawk-like nose, the hard mouth with a wicked promising smile and what he'd guessed of the slender body underneath the dark sleeveless shirt and the worn jeans had been all muscle and strength. Around them guys were looking on in envy, and he thought he'd been lucky. He didn't know why he'd been chosen, some guys there looked real good but it didn't matter, he'd grown used to it, he'd been a prey for half a dozen men through the last few weeks and he'd come to think that he held something special he couldn't see, something attractive. The hell if he knew what it was.

Now it was morning and strong arms were locked around him, a hand still in his hair, chest rising slowly and Toby fell asleep again.

Hunger woke him up. He felt weak and disoriented, his naked body bathed in the cold winter sun, but through the window he saw heavy grey clouds looming on the horizon like a hostile army; a promise of snow. He was cold and he ached, he wanted to turn in those arms, and winced with pain. His whole body hurt and in a second the other man was awake, dressed in jeans and a black shirt, watching him.
"I told you it would be a hell of a day."
"I'm hungry."
A hand fell on his ass, hard.

"Twice. Once more and I'll use a strap."
/Oh Christ./

He'd used one, the night before.

The man had driven him downtown, parked his car in front of a run-down building, some of the windows bricked up. Toby had followed him without a word, his heart beating wildly. When they had arrived at the little apartment, the man had shoved Toby inside and leaned against the door to take a good look at his prey.

"Strip," he'd said.

Toby had obeyed warily, worried at the husky and threatening tone but the man's hand had pulled him against his chest, words an endless litany of praise –he was hot, he was sexy, he was beautiful, he would feel so good - until he finally relaxed, a hand on the man's arm, stroking the disturbing tattoo of a suffering Christ. Then the fingers had begun to explore him, outside and inside, raising goosebumps, sending shivers down his spine, making him moan softly.

"Ssshhhhhh. I don't wanna hear you. Kneel down."

He had, the other man looming over him, the floor cold under his knees.

And he had spanked him, using his hand first, then his belt, and after that a strap, blows falling on his ass and his back hurting so much that he'd just closed his eyes under the pain, letting it claim him, overwhelm him, drowning in its dark depths as the man held him tight to keep him anchored while he sunk in another reality where nothing else existed but the sensation of flying. The strap had been good, just what his hunger for pain needed.

But using a strap right now? He would pass out.

"OK, shower then breakfast. Come on move your ass, Toby."

The man washed himself then washed Toby thoroughly lathering his body, his back, his shoulders, his cock until he was hard again, then pushing him against the tiles and fucking him with three soapy fingers, going down to his knees to suck him, warning him.
"Don't you fucking come, OK?"
And Toby didn't, fighting his need with all his strength, gasping when the mouth deserted him, too soon, wanting to beg and biting his tongue instead because he didn't doubt the punishment for disobedience would be real.

Then cold water dampened down his erection, and the man used a large soft towel to dry him, raining kisses on his face, his shoulders, his neck, his hair until he felt drunk with them, purring in the strong arms, waiting ….

"I'm gonna tie you up."
Toby froze. "No, please, I don't want that…"
A frown but the voice didn't change…"OK, you had it coming."

It sounded like a caress but the eyes were shining, deep, dark and blurred like a stormy ocean under a blue blue sky. He took the thick leather strap out of the drawer, bent Toby over the table where they had been eating minutes before and struck –hard noise of leather on flesh, Toby shouted, heard the expressionless voice count six blows… Hands released him, steadied him.

"Now I'm gonna tie you up and you are going to stay absolutely still," the man said with a challenging look.

All right, so the man was relentless and stubborn, probably dangerous and different from the others he'd been with, rich guys proud of their cosy apartment, their collection of whips and harnesses, and expensive stuff which added nothing to his pleasure. This one was far better, and wasn't that ironic and unsettling to find so much pleasure wrapped with fear, so much bliss in the depths of pain?

/You're one sick motherfucker Tobias Beecher. /

He was tied up from shoulders to feet with anything the man found in the apartment: torn up sheets, ropes from useless blinds. His captor worked fast and well, focused and silent as he'd been all along and Toby struggled blindly, thrown on the bed like some lifeless package, struggled for freedom until his body couldn't take it anymore, until he had no strength left and he lay there panting, his hair damp with sweat, his eyes wild with fear under the dark hard gaze.

"OK. Feel better now?" Flexible fingers brushed along his skin between the ropes, teased him, and after that pulled away, coming to rest under Toby's wet hair on the nape of his neck, stroking the skin softly until he got Toby still.

"Open your eyes and look," the voice said, "do you know what this is?"
The skilful fingers were playing with a soft blue hair band, stretching it between thumb and forefinger in front of Toby's eyes, the same kind of hair band Gen used to tie Holly's beautiful hair, and suddenly shame was sickening him, forcing him to turn his eyes away, blushing.
"Yeah," the man said, "I can see you do."
Fingers closed around his cock, stroking, pleasure rushing through his veins like blood, his brain on fire, his body burning from the back of his knees to the bottom of his skull, his back arching to meet the caress in spite of the bounds, despite the shame, seeking pleasure like a dying man seeking air to breathe.

"Easy, Toby, easy."
A quick motion and the hair band was wrapped round the base of his cock, trapping his erection, making him thrash in despair…
"So you won't come."
Toby moaned helplessly, his eyes pleading, his mouth open in a mute cry.
"You OK?"
He nodded, breathless.

"Close your eyes."

He did and heard a soft noise, something silky slid upon his eyes, blinding him. He had no strength left to fight and was rewarded by hands stroking his flesh again almost tenderly, almost like a lover, arousing him until he wanted to scream, nails scratching his skin deliberately. Then gagging him, with his hands first, then with some piece of cloth tied tightly behind his neck. More stroking, more arousing, two fingers sliding inside him, wet with lube, fucking him slowly, twisting, hard knuckles against his prostate. Then three fingers and he moaned, lightning exploding under his eyelids as his cock fought for freedom. Four fingers and he tensed in spite of the pleasure.

"Shhhh. It's OK, you're fine, you won't have to take more. Relax. Enjoy."

It seemed to last for hours, he was kept on the brink of an impossible orgasm under those fingers, around them, absolutely still as the voice whispered sweet nothings in his ear as if he was a cat or something that needed to be comforted and soothed and soon he was floating in ecstasy, abandoned, relaxed to the point where nothing mattered anymore...

Then the strap fell again, hard, once, twice, three times, leaving him breathless and crying before the hands worked softly on his back to ease the pain again.

/but still hard/

The gag went first. His jaw was painful. Hands removed the blindfold, "Keep your eyes closed," the voice said. He was untied with the same care, his body aching and limp. The ties had bitten into the flesh, red stripes on pale skin. The man hugged him, cradling him. /Jesus/ Toby moaned, stroked again like a pet, until he was pulled to his feet and he swayed, disoriented, lost, clutching the man's shoulders, unable to stand.
"Oh fuck!" he cried.

A hand landed on his ass and he lost it suddenly, yelling in a choked voice that it was unfair, he was barely speaking just reacting and fuck that was enough, he wanted out…

In a second he was on the floor, pinned to the old worn carpet, crushed under his tormentor's body, held tight, teeth digging in his shoulders, a knee parting his thighs, until finally he begged for mercy.

"Do you want me to recap the rules, Toby?"

He shook his head and the hands helped him up, kept him up until he could stand on his own, kept him against his hard muscles, his tight body, his unyielding cock. When he stopped shivering, he was released.

"First you eat. Then nap time."

No limit, no safe word. But the food was good, at least he wouldn't starve to death. When he was finished, the man crouched in front of him and checked his wrists, before tying them together behind his back, using his tie, cool and soft against the raw skin. Toby didn't know how much time had passed, his watch was somewhere in this empty apartment like everything else, his clothes, his shoes, his wallet. The middle of the afternoon, maybe. The sun was gone, the sky was blanketed with depressing clouds; he felt dizzy and he fell asleep faster than he thought possible, woken up twice by hands stroking him, fingers fucking him, moaning under the caress, begging for more before sleep took him again.

After that he woke up in complete darkness, surrounded by the man's heat.
"Hey Toby, welcome back."
Hands stroking him made him hard, fingers taunting him made him moan, a stubbly jaw scraping his shoulders made him shiver and he squeezed up against the hard body, grinding his ass against the rough jean, eliciting a soft laugh from the man.

"Come on, get up."

He was pulled up, kissed softly again, lips tracing the contours of his mouth, tongue invading him, hands roaming over his body.

"Up for a walk?"
Toby nodded.
"You can talk."
"Good, now get dressed."
Sweatpants, zipped jacket, hooded and warm, boots. His hands were tied behind his back again, he saw the man grab a blanket.
/Now what? /

"Come on, let's go."

Half pulled up, half pushed up the stairs, climbing a ladder, he saw a door in front of them, flung open by the man's boot and they were stumbling out in the freezing cold, wet darkness, snow softly falling, the place covered with a cold flawless blanket, sky above starless. He leaned back against the man to feel his comforting hardness, his shoulders nested in warm hands and for a moment they stood still, watched the city lights trembling in front of them, flakes of snow dancing around them, sounds muttered by the snow, sight blinded by the darkness, dark night streaked with snow, flakes freezing against his lips before a hot mouth took the cold away.

"Yeah, that's nice," Toby muttered thoughtlessly.
/Fuck. Fuck. /

The jacket was unzipped, pulled back, his skin shivering before he was shoved against the hard concrete chimney, rubbed against the rough surface, hurt, skin cut, nipples on fire.

"You said 'no blood'," Toby protested.

"That was before," the man said, wrapping the blanket around them, yanking at their pants, freeing his erection and Toby's ass, pulling him down with him, spooned around him, the hardness of his cock rubbing against his ass. "Then I said 'no limits', remember, Toby? Wanna talk about the rules again?"

Toby stiffened and shook his head.

A slick cock pushed up inside him roughly but the pain gave way to pleasure too fast, much too fast, soon Toby was begging for freedom, for release, sobbing as the man thrust inside him, lazily, then hard, then lazily against, and Toby was losing his bearings, his mind yelling, his body wanting to drown deeper, deeper still, wanting the fingers on his abused nipples, wanting more pain, terrified at how far he wanted to go, how deep he wanted to drown, terrified of getting lost, terrified that there would be no way back. As fingers locked around his cock, stroking him roughly, then letting go, the thrusts got rougher, deeper, faster, the hard cock rubbing against his prostate deliberately, fingers taking the hair band off his dick...

"Now. Come now."

And of course, he came, crazy with pleasure, yelling under the snow, cold and hot, owned and freed as the man sagged against him, laughing in his hair.

"Geez, Toby, you're great."

They remained silent, breathless, last tremors running through them both, each one trying to get more of the other until the blanket got wet, their hair covered with snow. Again he was pulled up, pushed down the stairs, undressed and shoved under the blankets then fed with hot pizza, coffee, still tied, and kissed, Christ, he'd never been kissed that much, until his mouth was swollen and painful, his body woozy with pleasure.

He nodded then spoke. "Yes. Thank you."

The man smiled, an enigmatic ambiguous smile, smile of an angel, smile of a demon, unreadable and fascinating, and kissed him, kissed his mouth like there was nothing else on Earth that could give him more pleasure, like he could spend the whole day, the whole night, kissing him…

Then slapped Toby twice, just for fun, backhanded him again for good measure… Definitely a demon.

Toby had dozed off for a while –hours, minutes, he didn't give a fuck anymore, but an excruciating pain woke him up in the middle of a very nice dream, so unbearable that he could've passed out at once, and he threw his head back to catch some air, not daring to talk.

"Breathe, Toby, breathe…."

He tried, hard, trying not to yell, not to beg, deep dark eyes catching his, mesmerizing him, mouth on his lips, breathing in him and suddenly from the heart of the pain, Toby felt something surging –pleasure, and something hot and tight surrounded around his cock and clenched, and he wasn't able anymore to understand what was happening, where the pain came from, what caused such pleasure, he gave in, gave up, trying to arch his body, helpless, pinned to the bed by a heavy body until suddenly pain and bliss merged in a single explosion and the eyes holding his gaze closed, he felt the man convulse, collapse and both of them were caught in the same bright burning fire, smothering their screams in each other's mouth. Washed away, the pain decreased and when Toby was able to open his eyes again, the man's look was bright and clear like summer sky after a storm.

"Oh Christ, you're good," he said, but got no reaction, no smile, no break in the tension between them, just a frown and fingers hit his cheek very softly, a punishing caress, to remind him of the rules and that did it, he passed out.

Next thing he remembered he was in the man's car, dressed in his clothes, in the middle of the night.

"I'm driving you home," the voice said, "I don't want to harm you."

Why? He wanted more, he did, and he moaned against the gag, fought the blindness, his hands trapped, heard a soft amused laugh.

He was fucked again down in the hall in his own dark house, snow falling harder outside, fucked as he was, kneeling on the cold tiles, blindfolded, gagged, his trousers around his ankles, steadied by the man's grip in the silence of the empty rooms.

Next morning found him in his bed, knocked out, his body painful and worn out, his mind numb, and he had to run his hands over the bruises, the marks, the cuts, the welts and his softened cock to make sure the memories were real. He got up, gave a look outside, saw nothing but snow still falling on the invisible garden, and shivered. /What am I doing to myself? /


Toby found the package on his desk on Monday, a big brown heavy envelope, Gen's neat writing on it. His heart sunk as soon as he saw it and even before opening it he knew, he just knew and his stomach knotted, his throat ached, he tore the envelope open with shaky fingers, trying to breathe. /"Breathe, Toby, breathe!" /

The note was fastened to one of the pictures.

"Tobias, I don't doubt now that you'll agree to this divorce, and accept my conditions, whatever they are, both about the money and about the kids. I'm sure you don't want anybody to see this, you don't want anybody to know about how deep into sordidness you are willing to go. You'll guess I don't expect you to come back home, I booked a room for you in the hotel near your office and sent most of your things there."

He looked at the pictures, God, he did, one by one, he couldn't take his eyes of them, both repulsed and attracted, his body betraying his disgusted mind. And of course he would let her go, he would let her take the kids wherever she wanted, he would accept to see them only when she'd let him –if she'd let him. He was in her hands. He'd been played. And the only question his mind could ask was who had taken the fucking pictures, and how.


"Thank you Mr Keller, you played your part perfectly. Your friend was right: you're good at that."

Chris took the check without a word, smiling, unreadable, his fingers brushing against a small cold manicured hand.

"I hope that the experience was in some way pleasurable for you, too." Gen said, her tone both interested and embarrassed.

He rested his gaze on her face. Nice, and tidy.
/Bitch. /
His eyes grew darker, his lips stretched in a devious smile, he looked at her long enough to make her blush.
/Do you really want to know? /

"Thank you, Mrs Beecher."
He glanced out, saw a little boy playing outside and felt sick all of a sudden.
"That your son? Looks a lot like his father."

He saw her start, stunned and shocked, and turned away, walking out of the house and down the street briskly, breathing in the cold winter air, comforted by the simple reality of it. At the corner of the road, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and made a call.

"Hey Bonnie, remember that club? We got it," he said looking at the check he still held in a trembling hand. "I got the money."
"No, baby, nothing illegal."
Nothing illegal, just a bad bad taste in his mouth, just something nasty he'd done but hell he wasn't born in the right part of town so he took the money where he could find it, as simple as that. He just wished it hadn't been that particular man.


On Thursday, Toby stopped weeping and got himself a gun.


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