Chapter 115: BDSM Play -4

Varek left Soren spread open on the bench for a full minute without touching him. He simply stood between Soren’s legs and looked at everything on display—the striped cock, the tight balls, the exposed hole, the way Soren’s stomach rose and fell with controlled breathing.

"You’re still hard. Still leaking. Still holding yourself open like a proper toy. That tells me the earlier work is settling in the right way."

He reached down and wrapped his fingers around Soren’s cock again, giving it three slow, tight strokes that made the shaft jump in his hand. Then he stopped and squeezed hard at the base until Soren’s hips tried to lift.

"No. Stay still. You don’t chase it. You take what I decide to give."

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

"Off the bench. On your knees in front of me. Hands behind your back. Mouth open."

Soren moved quickly. He slid off the bench, dropped to his knees, locked his hands behind his back, and opened his mouth. His cock stood rigid between his thighs, the head still shiny.

Varek stepped in close and rested the head of his cock on Soren’s tongue once more.

"Lick. Slow circles around the head only. You’re cleaning, not feeding yourself. If you try to take more, I put you back on the bench and start the crop work over again."

Soren’s tongue moved in careful, obedient circles. He kept his eyes down. Varek watched the focused motion and the way Soren’s own cock twitched with every pass of his tongue.

"That’s better. A service toy that knows its place. You’re not here to get full. You’re here to keep me ready and to stay desperate while you do it. Look at how hard you still are after everything I’ve already done to that cock. Pathetic. Perfect."

He pulled back and wiped the wet head across Soren’s cheek, then his mouth, then the other cheek, leaving fresh shiny trails over the older ones.

"You’re going to stay dirty for the rest of the scene. I want to see my mess on your face while I work on the rest of you. On your feet. Hands behind your head. Legs spread."

Soren stood. Varek walked behind him and ran both hands down Soren’s sides, over the welts on his ass, then around to grip his cock from behind in a firm, unmoving hold.

"This is mine. The hole is mine. The mouth is mine. The only reason any of it gets used is because I choose to use it. Tonight I’m still choosing to deny you the part you want most. You’re going to thank me for that denial."

Soren’s voice was steady.

"Thank you for denying me, Sir."

Varek gave the cock one hard squeeze and released it. He picked up the flogger again and dragged the tails lightly down Soren’s back, over his ass, and between his thighs.

"Chest to the bench. Ass out. Hands braced on the wood. You’re going to stay like that while I remind your hole who it belongs to—without giving it what it wants."

Soren bent forward, braced his hands on the bench, and pushed his ass back. Varek stepped in close and rested his cock between Soren’s cheeks once more, the same heavy, deliberate pressure as before. He ground forward slowly, letting the head catch against the rim, then held still.

"Feel that. That’s 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’re going to tell me what you are."

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

Soren spoke clearly.

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

Another slow grind.

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

Varek pulled back just enough to land two sharp strikes of the flogger across Soren’s ass, then immediately pressed his cock against the hole again.

"You’re going to stay exactly like this while I decide the next thing you feel. You don’t get to rush me. You don’t get to beg for more than I’ve already offered. You take the weight of my cock and the sting of the flogger and the sound of my voice, and you stay hard through all of it."

He reached around and wrapped his hand around Soren’s cock, stroking it three times in tight, controlled pulls before stopping again.

"Still standing. Still leaking on the floor. You’re so far gone that denial only makes you worse. That makes you exactly the kind of property I keep."

Varek released him and stepped back.

"Stay bent over. Ass out. Hands on the bench. I’m going to walk around you and inspect every mark I’ve left. Each time I touch you, you thank me. Clear?"

"Yes, Sir."

Varek moved slowly. He ran a hand over the fresh welts. Soren thanked him. He tapped the head of Soren’s cock with two fingers. Soren thanked him. He pressed a thumb against the rim of Soren’s hole without pushing inside. Soren thanked him again.

When he completed the circle, Varek stood behind him once more and rested his cock against the cleft.

Varek kept Soren bent over the bench for another long stretch of silence. He rested one hand on the small of Soren’s back, holding him in place, while the other slowly stroked his own cock. The wet head dragged along the cleft of Soren’s ass with every pass, never pushing inside.

"You’re still empty. Still open. Still hard. That is exactly where I want you."

He stepped back and delivered three heavy strokes of the flogger across Soren’s ass. The tails landed on already-tender skin. Soren’s body jerked, but his hands stayed braced on the wood and his cock remained rigid between his legs.

"Straighten up. Turn around. On your knees."

Soren pushed himself upright, turned, and dropped to his knees in one controlled motion. His face was still streaked with drying spit and precome. His cock stood up hard against his stomach, the marks from earlier clearly visible.

Varek stood over him and tapped the head of his cock against Soren’s lips.

"Open. Tongue out. You’re going to hold it again. No licking until I say."

Soren opened. Varek set the heavy head on his tongue and left it there. He looked down at the wrecked, obedient face below him.

"You’re a mess I made on purpose. A marked-up toy that stays hard even after its cock has been flogged and denied. That is not normal. That is useful. That is why I keep you."

He pulled back just enough to speak clearly.

"Spit on it. Get it wet."

Soren obeyed. A thick strand of saliva dropped onto the head. Varek smeared it around with two fingers, then returned the cock to Soren’s tongue.

"Now lick. Slow. Only the head. You’re cleaning me, not feeding yourself."

Soren’s tongue moved in careful circles. Varek watched every stroke and the way Soren’s own cock twitched in response.

"Good. Stay focused. You’re not allowed to think about your own dick right now. It doesn’t matter how hard it is or how much it leaks. It only exists because I allow it to."

He pulled free and wiped the wet head across Soren’s cheek, then his forehead, then the other cheek, leaving fresh shiny trails.

"On your feet. Hands behind your head. Legs wide."

Soren stood and locked his hands behind his head. Varek walked a slow circle around him, inspecting the welts, the smeared face, the still-rigid cock.

"You’re going to ask me to hurt it again. Not because you want the pain. Because I want to hear you request it."

Soren’s voice was rough but clear.

"Please hurt your property’s cock again, Sir."

Varek picked up the crop. He flicked it once across the shaft, then again across the head. Soren’s hips twitched, but he kept his hands locked in place.

"Thank me."

"Thank you for marking what’s yours."

Varek landed four more precise strikes—shaft, head, underside, balls. Each one made Soren’s cock bounce and leak. Precome dripped onto the concrete in slow, steady drops.

"Still hard. Still dripping. You’re so far gone that pain only makes you more desperate. That is exactly how I want you."

He set the crop aside and stepped in close. He wrapped one hand around Soren’s cock and gave it five tight, controlled strokes—enough to force a broken sound from Soren’s throat—then stopped and squeezed hard at the base.

"No. You don’t get to come. You don’t even get to get close. You stay on the edge because I put you there."

Varek released him and pointed at the bench.

"Lie on your back again. Legs up. Hands under your knees. Spread yourself open for me."

Soren moved at once. He lay back, pulled his knees to his chest, and held himself exposed. Varek stepped between his legs and rested his cock against the open hole, the same heavy, deliberate pressure as before. He ground forward once, letting the head catch, then held still.

"Feel that. That is as much as you get right now. You’re going to stay spread and ready while I decide how much longer you remain empty. You’re not going to beg for more. You’re going to thank me for keeping you denied."

Soren’s voice came out steady.

"Thank you for keeping me denied, Sir."

Varek rolled his hips in another slow grind, still without entering.

"You’re my free-use property. My personal hole. My marked-up cumrag. The only reason you’re still hard is because I have not given you permission to be anything else. Tell me what you are."

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

Varek pulled back and wiped the head of his cock across Soren’s balls and up the shaft, leaving a wet trail of his own precome mixed with Soren’s.

"Stay exactly like this. Open. Hard. Waiting. I’m going to walk around you one more time and look at everything I’ve done to you. Each time I touch you, you thank me. When I finish the circle, I will give the next order. Until then you do not move."

He began the slow inspection again—hand over the welts on Soren’s thighs, fingers tapping the head of his cock, thumb pressing lightly against the rim of his hole without pushing in. Each time, Soren thanked him in a clear, rough voice.

When Varek completed the circle he stood between Soren’s spread legs once more and looked down at the open, marked body beneath him.