Chapter 116: BDSM Play -5

Varek stood between Soren’s spread legs and looked down at him for a long time without speaking.

Soren’s cock remained hard against his stomach, the head shiny and dark, the earlier marks from the flogger and crop still clear along the shaft and underside.

His hole was exposed and untouched, the rim slightly swollen from the repeated pressure of Varek’s cock throughout the night.

"You’re still open. Still waiting. Still hard after everything I’ve already done to you. That is not an accident. That is training."

He reached down and wrapped his hand around Soren’s cock. The skin was hot and slick with precome.

He stroked it six times in tight, measured pulls - slow on the upstroke, firmer on the down - enough to force Soren’s breathing to hitch and his stomach to tighten.

Then he stopped and squeezed hard at the base, thumb pressing into the thick vein until the urge to thrust passed and Soren’s hips settled again.

"No. You stay right there on the edge. You do not get to move forward unless I take you there."

Varek released him and stepped back. He pointed at the floor.

"Off the bench. Kneel. Hands behind your back. Chest up. Eyes down."

Soren slid off the bench. His legs were unsteady for a moment from the prolonged stretch, but he dropped into position without hesitation.

His cock stood rigid between his thighs, the head flushed almost purple, a thin string of precome already connecting it to the concrete.

Varek walked behind him, gathered the leash that still hung from the collar, and gave it a short upward tug so Soren’s head lifted slightly and the leather bit into the front of his throat.

"You’re going to service me with your mouth again. Limited. Controlled. You will not take more than I give you. Clear?"

"Yes, Sir."

Varek moved in front of him and rested the head of his cock on Soren’s lower lip. The skin was already wet.

"Tongue out. Lick the head only. Slow circles. You’re cleaning, not feeding."

Soren’s tongue moved in careful, obedient strokes. He traced the ridge, then the slit, then the smooth skin just beneath, never taking more than the head. Varek watched the focused motion and the way Soren’s own cock twitched with every pass, a fresh bead of precome welling at the tip and sliding down the marked shaft.

"That’s it. A proper service toy. You’re not here to get full. You’re here to stay useful and desperate at the same time. Look at how hard you still are while you work. Pathetic. Useful."

He pulled back and wiped the wet head across Soren’s mouth, then both cheeks, refreshing the mess of spit and precome already drying there. The new trails shone under the light.

"Spit on it."

Soren obeyed. A thick strand of saliva dropped onto the head and ran down the shaft. Varek smeared it over the head with his thumb, coating himself thoroughly, then set it back on Soren’s tongue.

"Again. Lick it clean. Keep your hands locked. If that cock of yours softens even a little, I put the flogger back on it until it stands."

Soren continued the slow circles. His breathing stayed controlled, chest rising and falling in even counts, but his cock remained fully hard and leaking, the earlier welts standing out darker against the flushed skin.

Varek eventually pulled away and pointed at the bench again.

"Chest down. Ass up. Hands braced on the wood. You’re going to present while I remind your hole who it belongs to—without giving it what it wants."

Soren moved into position at once. He bent forward, braced his hands on the edge of the bench, and pushed his ass back and up. The welts across both cheeks and the backs of his thighs were vivid. Varek stepped behind him and rested his cock between Soren’s cheeks, the same heavy, deliberate pressure he had used all night. He ground forward slowly, letting the wet head catch against the rim, then held still so Soren could feel the exact shape and heat of it without receiving more.

"Feel that. That is the only contact you get right now. You’re going to stay open and ready while I talk. Every time I move against you, you tell me what you are."

Varek rolled his hips once, dragging the full length of his shaft along the cleft.

Soren spoke clearly, voice low against the wood.

"I’m your property. Your free-use hole. Your marked-up toy."

Another slow grind, the head catching again at the rim.

"I’m your cumrag. Your service toy. The thing you dirty and deny."

Varek pulled back just far enough to land three sharp strokes of the flogger across Soren’s ass. The tails cracked against already-tender skin and left fresh overlapping marks. Then he immediately pressed his cock against the hole again, heavier this time.

"You’re going to stay exactly like this while I decide the next thing you feel. You do not get to rush me. You take the weight of my cock, the sting of the flogger, and the sound of my voice, and you stay hard through all of it."

He reached around and gave Soren’s cock four tight strokes, fist slick with precome, then stopped and squeezed hard at the base until Soren’s thighs trembled with the effort of staying still.

"Still standing. Still leaking. Denial only makes you worse. That is exactly how I want my property."

Varek released him and stepped back.

"Stay bent over. Ass out. Hands on the bench. I’m going to inspect every mark again. Each time I touch you, you thank me."

He moved slowly around Soren’s body. A hand dragged over the welts on his right cheek; Soren thanked him. Two fingers tapped the head of his cock hard enough to make it bounce; Soren thanked him. A thumb pressed lightly against the rim of his hole, circling once without pushing inside; Soren thanked him again, voice rougher now.

When the circle was complete, Varek stood behind him once more and rested his cock against the cleft. He let the silence stretch until Soren’s breathing was the loudest sound in the room. Soren remained bent over the bench, ass out, cock hard and leaking onto the floor in slow drops, every mark from the night standing out clearly under the light.

Varek stepped in close behind him and finally spoke.

"You’ve stayed empty long enough. You’ve taken the flogger, the crop, the denial, the spit, and the weight of my cock without getting what you wanted. That was the point. Now I’m done waiting."

He gripped Soren’s hip with one hand, fingers digging into the marked flesh, and lined himself up with the other. There was no more teasing drag. He pushed forward in one steady, controlled thrust until he was fully inside. Soren’s body tightened around him in a hot, involuntary clench; a rough, broken sound left his throat, but he kept his hands braced on the wood exactly as ordered and did not pull away.

Varek did not give him time to adjust. He set a deep, deliberate pace, each stroke bottoming out so his hips met the welts on Soren’s ass, the sound of skin on skin filling the room in a steady, wet rhythm.

"That’s it. Take it. This is what you were kept open for. A free-use hole that stays hard while it’s used. My property. My marked-up toy. Say it while I fuck you."

Soren’s voice came out strained but clear between thrusts, each word punched out of him by the force of Varek’s hips.

"I’m your free-use hole. Your marked-up toy. Your property."

Varek reached around and wrapped his hand around Soren’s cock. He stroked it in time with his thrusts—tight, purposeful pulls that matched the rhythm of his hips exactly, fist sliding over the marked shaft and the slick head.

"You’ve been leaking for me all night. You’ve stayed hard through the flogging and the denial. Now you get to come when I decide, and not a second before. Keep your hands where they are. Do not thrust back. You take what I give."

He fucked him harder. The bench creaked under the force. Every stroke drove the degradation deeper, the wet sound of it loud in the concrete room.

"You’re nothing but a warm hole I decided to use tonight. A desperate bitchboy who got harder every time I hurt him. Look at you—still gripping my cock like you were made for it. You were."

Varek’s hand on Soren’s cock tightened. He stroked faster, matching the punishing pace of his hips until Soren’s breathing turned ragged and his thighs started to shake. Precome and earlier mess slicked Varek’s fist completely.

"Come. Now. Make a mess for me while I use what’s mine."

Soren came with a broken sound, body locking up as he spilled over Varek’s fist and onto the floor in thick, pulsing ropes. His hole clenched hard around Varek’s cock in rhythmic spasms. Varek did not stop. He kept thrusting through the orgasm, using the tight, fluttering heat, hips snapping forward until he was close himself.

He pulled out only long enough to shove Soren down onto his knees with a firm hand on the back of his neck.

"Mouth open. Tongue out. You’re going to take it and thank me for it."

Soren opened immediately. Varek pushed into his mouth and fucked his throat in short, deep strokes, holding Soren’s head in place with both hands so he had no choice but to take every inch. Soren’s eyes watered; spit ran down his chin. Varek came hard, pulsing down his throat, holding him there until he was finished. When he finally pulled back, a thin string of spit and come connected the head of his cock to Soren’s lower lip.

Varek looked down at him—face wrecked and shiny, chest heaving, cock still twitching from the forced orgasm, body covered in marks, spit, and mess.

"Clean me. Properly."

Soren leaned in and licked him clean without being told twice. He worked slowly and thoroughly, tongue flat against the shaft, then around the head, then down to the base, until every trace was gone and Varek was satisfied.

Only then did Varek step back and release the leash. His voice dropped, still firm but no longer cold.

"Scene’s over. You did well. Come here."

He pulled Soren up and into a controlled hold, one hand on the back of his neck, the other steadying him at the waist. The ownership language was gone. What remained was the aftercare they had negotiated from the beginning.

"Breathe. I’ve got you. Water first, then we check every mark. You stayed with me the whole way. That’s enough for tonight."