Page 39 of The Laughing Game

He held out his hand for Gideon.

“Let’s take this over to the bondage bench, shall we?”

“Yes, Vihaal,” Gideon said.

“Angel. Bring your chair. I’ll tell you where to place it so that you have a full view of the proceedings.”

“Yes, Vihaal,” I said.

My mouth and throat were dry. I stuffed myself back into my jeans now that I was in a position to do so. My cock was still hard but at least I was vertical. I picked up the chair, wincing as the denim chafed me.

I followed them to the piece of furniture on the other side of the platform bed, in the seriously kinky end of the room. My gaze fixed on the St. Andrew’s cross on the wall, wondering if Vihaal had ever put Gideon on it. I had a funny feeling they’d tried out just about everything in this space, but never with a third person involved.

It felt like a precious gift to be here.

“Put it right there,” he said, pointing to a spot behind the bench. “I want you to see everything from my angle,” Vihaal said.

I put the chair down and sat, waiting with bated breath for what might happen next. I slipped a finger under the collar of my turtleneck for some relief. Clammy sweat stuck to my skin.

“Why don’t you take off your shirt, Angel,” Vihaal suggested. “They keep the heat on high in here, as normally at least one person is naked.”

I nodded, lifting the suffocating item over my head and dropping it under the chair. I didn’t feel self-conscious at all and now I was much more comfortable, if you didn’t count the raging erection in my tight jeans.

Vihaal untied the strings of Gideon’s bolero jacket and removed it, tossing it to the floor.

“We’ll leave the corset. I like the way it restrains you. And I’m putting this back.”

Vihaal tied the silver mask back onto Gideon’s pretty face, so he was prevented from seeing again.

Gideon followed Vihaal’s instructions to sit on the padded bench and lie back, so that Vihaal could attach his ankles and wrists to points below. He’d kept Gideon in the boots, so it looked even more depraved to have him bound and spread, with the corset and the filigree blind on, and only his nether regions bare to be played with. He’d removed the stiff collar so that Gideon had more range of movement in the neck.

His gaze fixed on his vulnerable supplicant, Vihaal took hold of the small pegs on the foot supports and whipped them apart in one movement, spreading Gideon’s thighs wide and making both of us gasp.

“Holy shit,” I said.

Vihaal glanced at me, and grinned.

Gideon’s chest rose and fell as he lay there, fastened to the bench in such a vulnerable way. The black flange of the plug was clearly visible and his cock in its pretty cage, still wept.

I imagined what it might be like to be at Vihaal’s whim in this way, and all I could think wasyes, yes, yes.I wanted to be in Gideon’s place, even as Vihaal played with his trapped cock and flicked the end of the plug to tease him.

Vihaal stepped forward and to the side, so that I had a clear view as he took the flange of the butt plug between his thumb and finger and eased it out.

“Oh, fuck yes. So beautiful the way your body opens for me,” Vihaal murmured, as Gideon’s breaths stuttered. He moaned as the object slid free.

Vihaal wiped the plug and placed it on a towel on the floor under the bondage bench. He moved back to his position behind Gideon. I watched, transfixed, as Vihaal lifted a bottle of lube and dripped a copious amount between Gideon’s spread cheeks.

Gideon moaned, and shifted his knees back and forth, as much as he could with his ankles strapped down. His head rocked from side to side, and his lips parted as he panted with eagerness.

“You look like a full fucking meal, lying there,” Vihaal growled.

He moved between Gideon’s spread knees and cupped his hands under his legs, leaning forward between them. He bent to Gideon’s pale inner thigh, nuzzling in beside the cage and licking and kissing him all around it, tonguing his balls.

Gideon inhaled and arched his back, groaning and giving himself up to it. His cock was still pushing at its confines, trying to get hard, but unable to, dripping with pre-ejaculate as Vihaal teased and tasted him.

It took so much willpower not to touch myself. For one small second I pressed my palm to the front of my jeans and made a sound of relief.

But Vihaal had seen. Or he’d heard me.

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