Mistaken by Daddy Ch. 02

David's safeword was 'pineapple'. It's a stupid joke of a cliché, he knew, but his creativity hadn't been running on all cylinders when he'd been prompted for one when giving over his information to the House of Ex. His carelessness, he reflected, probably had to do with how little he expected to ever use it. Being pushed to his limit was what he came here for, and he always wanted to see exactly how deep the rabbithole went.

Now, he was trying to say it. That gag, a firm rubbery texture that protruded into his mouth and kept his jaw prised open, was doing its job. The letter 'p' was particularly difficult, disintegrated into a helpless 'w' sound. The word entire came out so distorted that he gave up quickly, hating the way it sounded to his slightly muffled hearing. This was ridiculous.

Even if he were being mistaken for someone else, some guy called 'Ryan', didn't that guy also need a safeword? Or was there some other ritual to communicate his withdrawal of consent that David had no access to?

Awkwardly left sitting on the bed, David felt at the fastenings of his hood. The unmoving padlock that connected zipper to buckle, closing both, refused to yield. He tried to wriggle his fingertips up under the neck of the hood, but it was on too tight to get more than the very tip of one finger beneath the inelastic hem.

He heard the sound of a cabinet door opening and closing, and flinched his hands back down, painfully aware of his own nudity. He'd never been too shy about that -- in the past, he'd been paraded around the public spaces of House of Ex, usually in shorts or a harness or something, sometimes later stripped naked for an exhibition, and while that exposure had been hot as hell, this was a different thing altogether -- blinded, gagged, and naked in a room with just one other man who had all the power.

David instinctively tried to fold his hands over his dick, but he was still painfully hard from the slow build up alone, the treatment that had come after. His ass still tingled and ached from his spanking, the bedsheets cool-feeling underneath him.

"Feeling modest tonight?" asked his tormenter, who had called himself Daddy. His voice somewhere to the left, and away.

He had a low, rich voice, a twist of mockery in his tone as if he considered David a little bit pathetic even if he found him desirable. David wondered if this man was someone who would recognise that he wasn't Ryan if his hood was off, if he was a regular attendant, or if, like David, Ryan enjoyed a variety. If the first thing, was his body not different enough? Muscle tone, height, cock size, hair distribution? It was maddening to think about.

He heard footsteps approach, and he just didn't know what to do. His hands covered his crotch more firmly as he tried to shuffle backwards, which felt ridiculous but it was all his instincts had on offer. The footsteps stopped, and he heard a low chuckle, much closer now.

"For a fucktoy," Daddy said, "you sure are skittish. Maybe you need a few more reminders about what you are."

That easy, mocking tone then changed as Daddy said, firmly, "Now come here."

David shook his head frantically, scooting backwards. Maybe if he showed enough protest, a real intent to escape his predicament, the attendant would grok that something was wrong. There was no repeated command, no question, and David felt his foot find the edge of the bed on the other side. He blindly moved to stand up, feeling the edge of the bed with his hands, and then -- the disorientation set in.

He had a sense of which side of the room the door would be, the map of the bed and which end of it he'd ended up on, but the prospect of the void all around him was daunting all the same, and his own nudity was a stark contrast to the warm claustrophobia of the hood locked to his head, making everything just feel a little more dangerous.

Dangerous and ridiculous. As he stepped aside in an effort to start for the door, he was immediately struck with a mental image of himself, his bare body and slapped ass and shiny black hood, his own muffled breathing and his erection jutting out from his groin.

What would he do, when he got to the door? Run around the club, looking for help, when he couldn't see or explain himself? Well, maybe it wouldn't get that far. Maybe this man would stop this charade at the clear message that something was wrong.

After the split second it took to have these thoughts, hasty calculations, David spurred himself to move, at least. Self-consciously, he cupped his hands awkwardly over his erection as if to protect it, and started shuffling in the direction he guessed the door to be in. As soon as he was out of reach of the bed, standing in that void with nothing to guide him, dizziness made his steps start to wobble.

Suddenly, there were arms around him. Big, muscled arms, bare from the wrists to the shoulders, wrapped around his waist, pinning his own arms in against his body. A warm chest was hard and broad against his back, and he felt leather and buckles press against his ass. He gave a muffled shout as that grip tightened, and another as his feet left the carpeted floor as the man lifted him up off of it, holding him tight.

Stronger, taller, confident, Daddy kept him held in the circle of his embrace, and David felt the world turn as he was carried back across the room like he was a wayward child or an unruly dog off his leash. Or a discarded toy, retrieved and taken back to play with.

"Now that was just the opposite of what I asked you to do," said Daddy, his voice right by David's ear, breath warm against the thin material that covered it. "I was thinking I'd treat you nice, today. Play with more of you than just sticking my dick in your ass."

He leaned back just enough to press his groin up against David's ass. David suppressed his own moans by tightening his mouth around the gag, but couldn't help but feel a distinct shape pushing through leather -- the stiff length of Daddy's cock, trapped as it was, slid against his tender skin. And it felt huge.

The thought of being fucked by this man made David squirm in the tight loop of his arms, bare feet waving in the air, shouting around the gag in his mouth. It couldn't happen, it just simply couldn't. He signed up for hot women to slap him around before letting him fuck their pussies, not to be bent over and railed by some beast of a man who made him feel practically powerless to stop him from doing whatever he wanted. As he struggled, he felt his cock bounce heavily, painfully, with the movement, unceasing.

"But I'm not gonna reward bad behaviour," Daddy said, ignoring David's thrashing as he resumed walking. "And that's just fine. I've got ways of helping you be good."

***

Struggling wasn't working. Physically, sure -- Daddy was clearly strong, and a professional, controlling the bucking of David's body like it was his job, and it was. But as far as it was meant to signal that something had gone wrong, that didn't seem to be working either.

David found himself pressed back down onto the bed, belly-down, a knee pinning the small of his back as his wrists were wrangled into cuffs, attached to a bar that kept his wrists about a foot apart. He thrashed underneath Daddy's weight, trying to ignore the way his cock rubbed against the soft mattress beneath him.

If he could get rid of his own erection, if he could stop letting all of this turn him on so bad, then maybe that would cut through the confusion. Because it seemed like any other attempt to protest was simply taken in stride, wrestled back down or ignored. If David could convince Daddy, for real, that he was enjoying none of what was happening to him --

Well, Daddy was a professional. Surely he'd feel the need to check in.

The mattress squeaked as that weight lifted off of David. As he moved to try to get up off his belly, he heard the sound of rattling chain, and then felt a tug -- an unstoppable tug that drew his arms up over his head. It pulled him up onto his knees, leaving him stretched and kneeling on the mattress, and then the tugging stopped, locked in and keeping him there.

The problem here was that while David had no desire to fuck a man, the fact he couldn't even see him meant his body was absorbing all other sensory information, all the things it enjoyed. The bondage, the nakedness, and hell, even his sense of humiliation was creating a complicated tangle inside his brain, associated with so much that said yes.

His ankle was grabbed and cuffed like his wrists, one and then the other. An abortive attempt to stand was easily overwhelmed as his ankles were secured with a wide bar of metal that seemed to attach elsewhere as well, a clicking of chain when he shifted his feet. He groaned, trying to think of anything, just anything that wasn't sexy.

Suddenly, rough fingers closed around his nipple -- not so hard enough to hurt, but it startled, and held firm when he jumped.

"There you are," Daddy said. He was in front of him, but probably standing. David felt his other nipple get pinched, both of them rolled roughly between gloved fingers. Fuck, he really liked getting his nipples played with. "My pretty little fucktoy. Why'd you have to misbehave?"

Both grips tightened harshly, and then released, David groaning at that fresh throb of pain.

"I already punished your ass," said Daddy. "So I think I'll give it a break, considering what I wanna do it to it later."

Something cool and flat and smooth touched his nipple, stimulating it with small rubbing circles. David squirmed, but Daddy only moved the object with him, bringing his nipple to peak with these gentle ministrations. The touch became firmer, sensitising and relentless, pushing that line of too much of a good thing. The chains rattled as David struggling against them, and Daddy gave a low rumbling chuckle, the sound of which went straight to his cock.

The contact to his nipple relented, vanished. And then --

Smack. It was light, but startling, the leather tongue of the crop impacting against his hard nipple. David jumped with a muffled sound of protest, one that cut off into a gasp as the second, much harder smack struck that same spot with deadly precision. He moaned, the chain and bar above his head jangling as he struggled with the instinctive desire to cover his chest.

"Already so pink for me," Daddy murmured, pressing the crop back into place and rubbing those circles again as if to soothe it. "You stop whining, now. Bad fucktoys get punished on the titties when they don't do as Daddy tells 'em."

The third smack was harsh, stinging, David's body jerking in its bonds with less control than before. The fourth, and then back to those circles, and at least there was a pattern to follow. Two strikes, a pseudo-soothing rub, and then another two, steadily climbing a ladder of pain. As the next came down, David's cry was more animal, high pitched, and Daddy shushed him gently with those soothing rubs.

And all the while, the blood in David's body would not stop draining into his cock, pulsing and thickening and hot.

The crop lifted, sparing him from the strikes, the torturous soothing. Before he could properly relax, he felt it touch gently to his other nipple, evoking a low, pleading moan from him. "I said stop whining," Daddy said, more kind than severe. "I know it's just like a little bitch boy like yourself to holler like his cock isn't leaking all over the place, but I bet you can learn a lesson too."

Without starting at a lower intensity, the crop slapped down hard against David's nipple. David cursed -- as much as he could around the gag -- and bucked, then shuddered into stillness as the second one landed whip-fast. Breathing out deeply as the crop rubbed its circles, he couldn't help but try to do as Daddy said -- to be good. For a moment, the plan to thrash and draw attention fell to the wayside with the impulse to obey as his body was being directed.

As the strikes fell in pairs, as the crop soothed him in between, he kept his squirming minimal, his noises wrangled down to responsive little moans and gasps instead of the whining. His hands flexed into fists above his head, and soon, he felt the crop fall way after however many strikes had stopped.

"Attaboy," Daddy said. "Looks like all parts of you are on the same page."

David startled when the crop -- now warm from use -- gently touched the tip of his cock. He twisted in place, a moment of dread piercing through his hazy arousal, and Daddy chuckled again, relentlessly chasing that movement and gently rubbing the swollen head of David's cock, then sliding it along the underside.

"Shh," Daddy said as he slowly, gently, rubbing the leather tongue up under David's cock, a hint of slickness betraying he'd gathered some pre-cum off the end, using it as a trace of lube. "You like that?"

David shuddered out a sigh, the muscles in his thighs and abdomen flexing at the gentle attentions to his cock. The fear that it might get struck didn't diminish, but it mingled with his arousal, heightening it, and he couldn't help but gently jerk his hips -- forwards, not backwards. Once, twice, and Daddy laughed.

"You wanna fuck Daddy's crop? Go on, then," he said, pressing it up against David's cock. "Fuck it."

David froze.

He was meant to be trying to get out of this, and that was one thing -- but he realised, all at once, that going along with something was a point of no return. A real indication that he was willing, that he wanted this, that there was no need to check in with him. His cock ached with the need for something, anything, even the meagre friction of the crop rubbing his cock -- and if he was being very honest with himself, he craved something else about obeying this order.

The image of himself, trussed in placed, his chest reddened from the crop strikes and his cock swollen and leaking at the tip, rutting against a square inch of leather because he was too horny not to. That image, and the flurry of humiliation at the idea of this man watching him do it, tightened through him like a pulled string.

Daddy nudged his cock with the crop, encouraging him. David shook his head desperately.

A sigh, and then the crop moved away. "I was gonna skip this part of your punishment," Daddy said, his voice travelling further, and then coming back, "because you took it so well. But looks like you haven't learned your lesson yet."

A gloved hand ran across David's chest, a soothing touch, before it wrapped its fingers around a sensitive nipple. David keened in protest as it was pinched, pulled, and then something closed around it -- and he'd done this before enough times to recognise the unrelenting closing of a clamp. Daddy ignored David's sudden flurry of strangled protests as he applied the second clamp, condescendingly patting his stomach as he left David with those twin points of aching pain.

And this was the paradox, David thought, inside the hysterical silence of his mind. The more he protested in an attempt to free himself, the more Daddy pushed back, driving his body to the brink of no return.

And what he wouldn't give for something, anything, to fuck.

***

The mattress dipped, information that Daddy had climbed into the mattress somewhere behind David. He shuddered as he felt gloved hands touch his sides, stroking down over his stretched torso. Daddy gave an approving sound, hands skimming broadly past David's hips and around to his thighs.

"You've got a hot little body, Ryan," he said, and David groaned at the resurfacing of that name. "And whether you want me to or not, I'm gonna enjoy every part of it, for as long as I like. But that's exactly what you want, isn't it?"

No, David wanted to say. But the gag ate the sound, and his cock twitched stupidly.

"Yeah you do. Let's get you ready."

Daddy's hands left him, and there were some more minor sounds, stuff being handled, but the hood muffled all details. What was vivid, instead, was the feeling of two cool fingers, sheathed in leather, touching his ass crack.

David jumped. There wasn't a lot of room to move at all, his arms pulled at full extension and his body was still stretched long on his knees. His legs were forced apart by the bar between his ankles, and even trying to struggle or buck with his legs met resistance, as if the bar had been secured with a chain too to keep him kneeling. As much as he'd accepted his bondage from the way he could do nothing for the nipple clamps making his pecs ache, nor he could touch his stiff cock, the fact he could not prevent what was about to happen settled in anew.

And Daddy was not wasting time. His gloved fingers were slick with lube, easily pushing between David's cheeks, finding his asshole. David's panicky protests were ignored as he started rubbing that tight little entrance, as if negotiating with it directly for permission and ignoring the man to whom it belonged.

Then, slowly, the first knuckle of a digit sank in, and David gave a groan of despair, at this inevitable thing that was occurring to him. Was he about to be fucked now? Was this man, whom he didn't even know except by the title of Daddy, going to fuck his ass while he hung from chains, while David struggled and whined and pleaded? Was that thing he would live with forever, not just the humiliation of the act itself, but the inevitable realisation that when it was over that it was never meant to happen to him, about to occur?

The finger slid in deeper, and out again, patiently loosening him. A leather Daddy with a deep voice had a finger in his ass and there was nothing David could do to stop him. He let out more pleading sounds, groaning as it sunk in deeper, and then gasping as the second digit joined it. He gave a useless struggling wiggle on the chains, but Daddy only shushed him, and drove his fingers in deeper, scissoring and stretching.

Fucking him with his hand, slowly but deeper and deeper all the same. David hung his head at the inevitable wave of fresh arousal as those probing fingers found that spot inside of him. Anal play was not in itself new, if very infrequent -- once a woman had fucked him with a slender dildo while jerking him off, and another had fingered him once during a blowjob, but that was the extent of it.

The felt different, this slow meditative ritual of preparation.

It seemed like Daddy was picking up on some kind of implicit signal from Daniel -- maybe the micromovements of his body betrayed his pleasure, or the tone of his noises were conveying it. His other hand slid up David's spine, circled around his throat, took a grasp of his hooded chin with his thumb pressing on the base of the gag. This subtle pressure seemed to push it deeper into his mouth in what had to be the barest of fractions, but felt exaggerated when sliding against his teeth and tongue.

"You like that?" Daddy growled, his fingers beginning to move faster, a more dedicated fucking as he held David's face. It was odd but intoxicatingly intimate, the way Daddy could even prob at David's sealed mouth while fingering his ass, and David melted in his bonds, unable to stop himself from pushing his hips backwards for more. "Yeah you do. You can't wait to be fucked by Daddy, can't you."

Frustrated tears sprung at the corners of David's eyes, but it was just more moisture in amongst the sweat and saliva, unseen in the dark.

"But you're gonna have to wait a little longer."

Before David could properly register what that meant, Daddy smoothly slid his fingers out of him, other hand lifting away, and a moment later, something hard and cool and blunt pressed up against his asshole. Not fingers, not a cock, but a toy that slid with little resistance up into his ass. He gave a muffled groan of surprise as it flared just that little bit wider than Daddy's knuckles had been, so close to painful --