A Trip Full of Discoveries Ch. 02

He stopped, still looking at me: the spell was broken, I gazed back into his eyes, which were grinning as well as his mouth. He threw me his towel, which I grabbed right away; he knew I was drooling for it, and winked at me, grabbing his toiletry and walking past me, outside the bathroom. I stood there, a little dumbfounded and embarrassed; but I couldn't reject the invitation.

I was sure the man had now left, as I heard the door to his room close. I raised the towel up to my nose, and dove my face in, breathing his musky, yet fresh smell; just the thought of my nose and my mouth going over the same cloth that had brushed his crotch and his dick was making me so horny. I stood there, sinking in the towel, grazing my own erection through my shorts, lusting over the smell of that man... How long was this attraction going to last? This impossible, yet irresistible greed for a man whose name I didn't even know.

***

We later went out for lunch: he invited me to eat at a fancy place, close to the hotel. We sat on opposite sides, beside a window and he ordered drinks for both of us; then he wanted me to just get whatever I wanted, he'd pay for it all, no worries. I couldn't wrap my head around him: he was still quite young, but seemed so well off for his age. And apparently, he didn't even have to work all day, since he had time to fuck the living hell out of me. We didn't talk much during lunch, but we kept exchanging glances and smirks; and he slipped, every once in a while, a hand below the table, to brush it over my leg and my knee. Every time he did that, my cock would jerk.

At one point, when we were a little tipsy and were done eating, he asked me, with a wink "Did you like it, earlier?"

I blushed and dropped my gaze down on the table. The way he was treating me now was charming, provocative: yet I felt so exposed, intoxicated by his total control over my body and my pleasure.

"Yeah" I muttered, looking up and meeting his gaze again; his green eyes were gleaming with perversion, I could feel his cheekbones about to twitch into a grin. A canine teeth appeared for a split second on his bottom lip, a tiny crease forming on the corner of his mouth.

I felt his hand withdraw from my leg, as we stared at each other. I could see in his slight body movements that he was doing something, but I couldn't understand what; seconds later, he put his elbow on the table, his hand towards my face, and pressed his wet thumb on my lips. I was shocked for a moment, looked around the restaurant, embarrassed, but then noticed his utter disregard for the other people. I let his thumb enter my mouth, immediately licked his skin to savor the taste: I smiled, recognizing the saltiness and musk. I sucked on the finger, joggling it around with my tongue. He pulled it out with a smirk, then motioning me to sit on the chair beside him, in front of the window; I got up and sat where he wanted, without questioning. I could see the whole restaurant from there, and part of me was calmed in noticing nobody seemed to care about us.

"Sit up straight," he ordered. He slipped his wet thumb below my t-shirt, grazing my skin with his cold touch, up and down my spine; then, he moved lower and lower, reaching my underwear, sliding inside, quickly reaching my quivering hole. I was nervous and self-conscious, despite my drunkenness. He firmly pushed his thumb in, making me jolt on my seat; the finger wasn't well-lubricated, the thumb-sucking had more of a symbolic meaning. As he made his harsh advance, I whispered out a moan, closed my eyes and let my own weight drop on his hand: god, how great it felt.

I sensed his breathed on my ear, sending a shiver throughout my body: "How's that feel?"

His finger pushed deeper, looking for that sweet, delicate spot of pleasure inside me, circling around and probing my guts. I gripped the edge of the table with a hand and bit my lip not to moan, involuntarily also clenching my hole around his thumb. He slipped out, propping his elbow on the table and offering me his finger once more. I complied; I savored his warm skin, getting hard knowing he'd been inside me, and that he had complete rule over me, even in public, in front of everyone. He was my master, and I obeyed his commands.

***

We got back to the hotel, and I followed him into his room without a second thought. I wanted the release of tension, of pleasure, of that force that was building up inside of me. That *he* was building up; manipulating and wielding against me, like a blade. When the door closed behind us, I was immediately pushed against the wall;

"Strip naked, boy" he whispered, his strong grip behind my shoulders, his crotch separated from my butt by our layers of fabric.

He walked away, towards his luggage, in search of something. I threw away my t-shirt, shoes, shorts, socks and undies, until I was left wearing only a little shame. He turned around, towards me; he smirked, then, coming closer and tying a blindfold around my head, he pushed me on the bed, face down, and went grabbing something else out of his bags. I felt cold metal on my wrists, and realized what he had in mind. He handcuffed my hands on opposite sides of the bed frame, then proceeded to do the same with my ankles; it wasn't too tight, only slightly uncomfortable. But the feeling of powerlessness, blindness and trust I had to give, were driving me insane with lust and yearn. I had my legs and arms spread apart, and had no ability to move or to stop him: I could hear him pace around the room, his calm and calculated breaths.

The sound of his leather belt rushing through the loops, the tinkle of the buckle, the weight of his knees on the mattress. Then, the sound that came out of my mouth, scorching as was the sudden pain I felt on my ass cheeks. Then his hands, caressing my skin. Then again, the belt, a loud slap; my voice, cracking; his wet tongue, licking the bruise. Then the leather spanking, my mouth quivering, his hands clasping. Another smack, a howling scream, his piercing teeth. He let the belt fall out of his hand, and began softly biting my sore ass, licking, sucking, kissing. The sexual tension was at its highest; never before I'd felt like this, being blind and tied was worse than his grip, because I knew I couldn't escape it. And he had his hands free to do whatever he pleased. Yet, that helplessness was fueling my arousal more than anything else ever had.

He reached with his hand under my crotch, pulled my cock out from below me and exposed it; he tugged on it, my muscles tightening in response; then I felt his breath on it, and his warm, wet tongue, licking my shaft, then its head, snatching moans of pleasure out of my throat. He stopped, spit on my hole, then spread the saliva up and down my crack. I was sobbing, for the sorrow from the belt, then the pleasure of his touch; and now, I didn't know what to expect anymore. I was reaching my breaking point.

He rammed two fingers inside my hole, making me jump away: only for a couple inches, immediately stopped at the ankles. He knew that, and kept pushing and pushing, against my groans of discomfort, with so little lubrication. He pulled his knuckles out, and I felt some other cold object graze my skin: one of his many toys. After all I went through with him, I thought I was ready to take his dildos: I still wasn't. He held one of my ass cheeks spread apart with a strong grasp of his palm, while he shoved in the object with the other hand.

The stinging pain made me jolt and shudder; I cried out, but he kept going, as my hole stretched out to accommodate the thrust. I arched my back, desperately trying to get away, but the relentless push was inescapable. My hands were tight on the pillows, the iron handcuffs cutting into my wrists; when I felt the tip of the dildo reach deep inside my guts, I moaned out, a deep liberating sigh. The man rammed inside one last time, filling me up for good, then jumped on the bed and climbed on top of my body. I could feel his naked skin against mine, his hard erection grazing me, his strong arms clasping my chest; my body was his for the taking, I had to give up, let him control me, dominate me.

He started brushing over my back, humping me, caressing his hands all over my torso, my sides; his lips sucking and kissing my neck, behind my ears, over my shoulders. I was whimpering in pleasure, horny and stimulated. He got up, walked behind me, brushed his finger over the toy in my ass, then below, on my balls and my exposed cock.

"Please..." I muttered, under my breath; I couldn't hold it anymore.

"...what's that?" he growled, jumping on my side, his breath in my ear, his claws on my bare body.

"Please, let me cum..." I pleaded, with a moan, squirming on the sheets.

I felt his head withdraw, and was left hanging, exposed. I heard the buckle clink, and I mumbled "...please," once again. The leather struck hard on my ass. I let out a cry, my back stiffening, my legs jerking uncontrollably. He hit me again, a little harder: a voice came out of me, it wasn't mine; it was my body, my brain reaching its peak arousal. The belt slapped once more, hitting the dildo that was sticking out as well; I howled, my muscles relaxing, giving in to the release: I orgasmed, cum flowing out, groans escaping my vocal chords.

"Oh, boy..." I heard him sough, letting the belt fall to the ground. He had a front seat for the show, my prostate pulsating right below my anus, my balls tight above my throbbing dick.

His body slid gently over mine, he held my skin tight with his, I was overwhelmed with the warmth. He kissed my back again and again, then he slipped off. He tugged and pulled on the dildo in my ass, releasing it out of my guts: the feeling was so incredible I kept whimpering. I felt completely spent, exhausted; yet, the man still needed his pleasure taken care of. He briefly grazed my gaping asshole, soft and pink, delicate and sensitive.

"Here I come, baby boy," he whispered with his husky, commanding voice.

He plunged his hard cock inside me, his crotch hitting my ass crack with a single shove, as my lungs emptied out in a long whine.

"Oh, so soft and warm..." he groaned, as he pumped out and back in, the head of his shaft breaching me with every thrust. I felt pleasurable shivers running through my body, finally accustomed to his length and girth, after all the times I was fucked. His hands were all over me: groping my ass cheeks, clutching onto my sides, pulling on my shoulders, to get his dick deeper and deeper. I spread my legs as far as I could, letting his groin pound me with more vigor, jolting every time his ballsack slapped on mine. My hole was fully relaxed and wide open, it opposed no more resistance to his manhood ramming through.

After short minutes, I heard the man grunt deeply, louder and louder, his claws seizing and grasping my flesh: he began pulling out completely before slamming balls-deep back inside. "Take my cum boy, take my cum!" he growled, with one final push, letting his cum fill my insides, breeding his subdued boy. I could feel his hot cock throbbing, as the liquid poured and his muscles released their grip. I felt dazed, my mind fogging up. I remember him getting up, freeing my wrists and ankles, as I was slumbering.

I woke up shortly after, as it was still afternoon; the man was still on top of me, his soft dick nestled in my hole. I moved slightly, making him jerk and wake up; he lifted his chest, propped up on his arms, and pulled out of my ass, letting the cold breeze graze my intimate spots. As he got up of the bed, he whispered: "...such a good boy," winking at me and kissing me on the neck. He went to grab his stuff to get ready for another shower. I caressed my wrists, feeling the bruises; I reached around with my hand, touching inside my wide and worn crack, then pushed out his warm cum. I got up, still a little embarrassed, but completely subdued to my man. He had gathered my clothes as well, and we went to have a shower together, to rinse off what was left of the wild sex. We entered the same stall, he didn't close the curtain, and neither did I: we smiled at each other, and began rubbing soap and cleaning each other off.

That intimacy made me feel a different kind of warmth, one that wasn't pure lust, and wasn't love either. There was a singular, exclusive relationship between us, that spread out both in public and in privacy; he gave me the space I needed when we were taking a break, and I gave him full control over my body when he needed pleasure. We didn't talk much, if at all: I didn't want to know who he was, what he did in his life: and he needn't know about me either. Words wouldn't add anything good to us; we needed only touches, grazes, pulls, slaps, shoves. The bond between us was purely carnal, physical, made of eroticism and power.