Page 33 of Filthy Little Secret

11

MARK

Ienter my pitch-black bedroom, close the door behind me, and take a few steps in before I feel Tim rush up behind me and wrap his arm around my throat.

He puts his other hand on my waist and moves it up under my shirt, sliding it across my abs.

“Don’t make a sound or I’ll fuck you even harder than I’m already planning to,” he says, his nose pressed against my ear so the fabric of the ski mask he’s wearing scratches against my skin. I asked him to wear the ski mask for this scenario.

I stay perfectly still to let him know I’ll do whatever he wants.

He slides his hand back down to my jeans, pops the button, and unzips my fly before reaching down beneath my briefs and grabbing my cock.

“Getting a little tingle thinking about it, aren’t you? Turn on the light, fucker.”

He guides me to the switch. I flip it so the lamp on the nightstand beside my bed turns on.

It’s been two months since we started fucking regularly, and things have escalated quickly into new realms of fucked up.

I’d seen this too many times in porn. Enjoyed it enough that I wanted a chance to experience it for myself. And who better to be open with about my desires than a guy who’s so unashamed of his own?

“Now take off your clothes, and don’t turn around,” Tim says, “or I’ll make you fucking regret it.”

His words are so serious I almost believe we’ve moved beyond role play into something far more dangerous, but we’ve played like this enough I know my safewordcherrycan get me out at any point. I can’t imagine Tim taking me in a way that would go too far. He hasn’t done anything like that. Everything he’s given me, I’ve wanted—eagerly, desperately, entirely.

He releases my neck, and I undress before him.

I can see in the window that he’s already naked. Just wearing the ski mask.

My cock is stiff from knowing he was hiding in my room when I stepped inside. We’d agreed to meet at this time, and I’d told him how I wanted it. What I wished for.

And I’m pleased to know he wasn’t too much of a coward to give me this satisfaction.

“Now lay down on your back on the fucking bed,” he says.

I obey.

“Up to the headboard, you stupid shit.”

I scoot up and lie back, awaiting my punishment. My reward.

He crawls onto the bed, over me so that I’m facing his mask.

He looks down at me, seemingly someone different. The same eyes, but with a sort of freedom. Like he knows he can shake off his identity and be someone dangerous—at least for tonight.

He strokes his hand up and down my body. Then he settles on my cock, groping, stroking. He tightens his grip around it.

“Don’t make me rip it off,” he says.

God, does he watch the same porn I do? He must, because he’s doing a fucking good job with this.

“I’ll do whatever you want,” I say. “Just please don’t hurt me.”

“Oh, I’m going to hurt you all right.” He grips even tighter, creating just enough pressure to make me even more aroused.

He slides his hand under the pillow and retrieves a pair of handcuffs, ones I assume he hid when he got here before me. I gave him Greg’s spare key several weeks ago so he could come by whenever he had a chance. Made the holidays a little easier for us since I had to spend more time at Mom and Dad’s and wasn’t always home.

He locks one cuff around my wrist, weaves it around the bedpost between two slats of the headboard, and then cuffs the other end to my opposite wrist.

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