Chapter Text
He was insane. Absolutely insane. Had to be. There was no other explanation Wanda could conjure for why he would suggest something so utterly bonkers.
“What if someone from your work sees us there?” Wanda looked up from her shoe, laces askew and far from cooperating.
Vision laughed at her. A big, deep laugh that he only did when he was up to absolutely no good. “Were you not the minx who stuck into my work and begged me for my cock?” The duffle bag he carried was suspicious. “Wanda, if someone from work sees me there, then I will have seen them too. Stones are not cast in glass homes.”
There. That. She hated that. The way he made everything sound so simple, obvious.
Of course it would be no issue if a coworker saw him at a kink dungeon. Sure. Yeah. Fuck it. Of course.
She gave up on lacing her sneakers and tucked the hard ends into her sock. Wanda was nothing if not a problem solver.
If she stayed crouched a little longer, it was just to admire the view. Her giant boyfriend. Her giant, frowning boyfriend.
“Why are you frowning?” Wanda used his pants to steady her as she rose back up, the jean material unforgiving to them both. Vision readjusted himself once she was upright. The firehose. Her comfort toy.
“This is just for reconnaissance,” He sounded so stern and serous. It made her spine straighten and toes curl. “However, I would like you to have a safeword if you wish to leave. For any reason.”
Did his lips curl upward a tinge as she started to figit with her fingers nervously? The shoelaces were rubbing her heel in the way fabric does before giving you a blister. As a kid, she loved popping blisters. The anticipation, the ooze.
She should really learn how to tie laces.
“Macaroni.” Wanda blurted, because that is what they had for dinner, and that is what she is already thinking about eating when she gets back. “Final answer.”
Another low chuckle. She wanted to suck the smug out of him, really humble the man. Somehow.
Large hands urged her forward and out the front door. She should be mad at him for manhandlijng her. She isn’t. The car is waiting and a jolt of excitement zaps her. Thank god for the windows that brought them together.
Buckled in, Vision dumped the duffle bag onto her lap to hold while he drove in perfect silence. The sun began to go down, and by the time they pulled up to the the run down building, it was set.
“Ready?” Vision glanced her way.
Big gulp. She was a big girl and did big sex. How hard could a sex dungeon be? For a woman who gained her boyfriend via sex crimes? She probably ooutranked everyone in there already. Maybe by several orders of magnitude. (Note to self: Google what orders of magnitude are) Wanda nodded to answer.
His fingers were bony against her chin as he pinched it and made her look at him. “Use your words.”
“Yes,” She squeaked and he was out of the car in a flash.
He had scolded himself for not thinking of it sooner. An old account on an old website that was still updated like it was new. Surprised he even remembered the password, but there it was in his brain, ripe for the picking and typed in like it was nothing.
It was not nothing. It was… a beginning. An acceptance. He clicked the events tab and read the first listing.
Bukkakke Gang Bang
Wanda covered in his cum, face tilted back, semen dripping from her chin as she kneeled under him. Lovely. A wonderful way to spend an afternoon.
Adding other gentlemen’s sperm to the mix? Not so much. He scrolled further down, making mental notes to circle back to Primal Night: First Thursday of Each Month and other niche themed events. New Jersey’s best feature was the state’s proximity to Manhattan.
Freaks loved Manhattan. He was eager to join them. Bukkakke Contest: Cum let the crowd judge your juice. His mouse hovered over the link. Wanda waiting patiently, sitting on her heels with her mouth open as he jacked off at her. The crowd watching in anticipatory silence. Pinching her nipples as he stroked home. The crowd masterbating. They want her, but she is his. God, he is so hard, he can’t-- He paints her white like a ghost. She accepts the trophy as he licks her clean. Yes. Yes!
No.
Start simple.
Couples Only Play Party
Bingo.
He clicked the link and smiled wickedly as the description ticked off every box he wanted. “Wanda!” He hollered to his girlfriend. She was downstairs, probably making tea for them. She made a lovely cuppa, though he only would admit it when truely pressed. Best not to give her ideas. She had enough ideas on her own.
She clomped up the stairs, legs heavy from nothing, and stared him down from the threshold. Arms on her hips, hair in a wild bun, and his t-shirt being worn as a dress was a sight to behold. He loved her so much, in all her disfunctional glory. “What?” His angelic girlfriend asked with great exasperation.
“I need my wallet.” He leaned back, placed his laptop to the side. Her eyes rolled just like they always did during this game. The ‘reach into my pocket game’ where everyone was a winner.
“And?” She replied, eyes running up and down his semi. Her tongue wet her lower lip and he wanted to suck the moisture right off it.
He had Paypal set up on his computer. He did not need his credit card at all. All Vision could think about was the sensation of her knuckles brushing his cock through the fabric as she reached in for his shitty old wallet that was always nearly falling apart. “If you would be so kind as to place it in my hand, I will be purchasing you a present.”
That did it. She was over in a flash, resting her left hand on his crotch to tease while her right dug around far too lavishly to actually be struggling. Holding in his moan was a feat as she pulled the rectangle out, but kept her left hand on his cock. He took out the first card he touched. (it was a gift card to Sephora, a joke from his coworker that caught him reapplying concealer to his neck. Wanda had paid dearly that night as he nipped and sucked every inch of her until no amount of makeup could hide his claim.) Hopefully Wanda didn’t notice how he didn’t even glance at the card, just let Paypal do its thing, and suddenly they were on the guest list.
In three days, she would be on his lap, naked and writhing as other’s gawked.
Perfect.
They didn’t plan to do anything the first night.
Vision had told her to pick a seat in the scattered observation areas and headed to the locker room. Exchange his ID for a key, head to the left, nod in impress as a nun pulls her cloak up and over her head to reveal heavy leather lingerie beneath, find his locker and stash his bag.
Some things were just like riding a bike. It had been years. Since college, really, since he had been to one of these. His brain pressed a thought forward. Something about coming home to Ithica. Hm. The locker clicked closed and the key slipped into his pocket. Wanda was waiting, and that alone was already exciting. Seeing her sitting alone, looking small and helpless and overwhelmed? The room may as well have been empty as he strode over to her. Wanda, his. She weighed nothing, felt like a stuffed bear in his lap after he had picked her up and placed her on it. If only she were a hairy man. Then she could really be his stuffed bear. (Places like these made his brain melt. Where was the Vision that had led the C-Suite presentation yesterday? Gone, shredded with the confidential papers and waiting to be disposed of in his office. There was no obligation, no stress, no deadline here. Just Wanda, him, others. Good.)
She wriggled back into him, getting comfortable in his grasp (Tight. Tighter. The nun walked past, looking the pair up and down. She was older, maybe in her late sixties, and had an ass covered in bruises. Beautiful.) He kissed her shoulder, placed his chin where he had just place his lips, and tried to find a place to set his sights.
Vision didn’t need to ask Wanda where she was looking. He had clocked it as soon as he had looked out into the room.
A girl suspended two feet off the ground. Her right leg frog tied, ankle pressed to ass, and left leg left to hang straight down with a device on the thigh. Her partner was tying the hanging ankle, attaching her to another fixed point so she wouldn’t spin.
She wore a fishnet body suit with nothing to the imagination. Crotchless, her labia bloomed open for display, brownish pink folds waving to invite anything in. Her nipples were dark, stressed between the clamps affixed and further agitated by the jiggle of her breasts every time her partner moved her in the slightest. Her arms were fastened just below, forcing her into a self hug that only accentuated her exposed bits more.
Her bent leg had an additional rope woven through that went all over her form until it looped back around, up into the hook that held her. Utterly beautiful, the pattern made and weight distribution as a result of it.
Her partner kissed her passionately, whispered something to her, and she spoke back to him. Wanda was leaning forward as much as the slack of Vision’s arms would allow, as if she somehow would be able to hear them twenty feet away if she really tried.
The partner was beautiful as well, nearly nude save for a jockstrap with a proud buldge. His chest was scarred in two perfect lines with no nipples to speak of, but bone structure like a god. Lick him. Vision’s cave brain kicked in. No. He replied, still admiring the slope of the man’s jaw and sway of hip beneath a slightly chubby belly as he approached his partner. Despite his short stature, he looked dangerous, powerful.
“He’s going to flip a coin,” Wanda whispered as casually and focused as she would while watching a sitcom. “Watch.”
Sure enough, he did. Interesting. The game element was something Vision had never done. The guy held up the coin to his partner. She smiled. He reached between her legs and gently stroked her folds with one hand, palmed himself with the other. Wanda’s breathing picked up, and Vision gave her a little squeeze.
A minute passed of the first exchange, both partners holding eye contact like they were trying to read each other’s minds. The guy removed his hand from her, smiled wickedly. She shook her head, objecting, but with a grin even larger than his plastered across her face.
Wanda jumped in surprise as she watched the shock collar activate and make the dangling leg jolt and twitch. “Holy shit,” She looked back at Vision.
His darling had such a loud bark. Sooner or later he was going to have to show her what it meant to bite. “Eyes forward, my love,” He took her chin between his fingers and gently manuvered her to refocus on the scene. The girl was gasping for air, laughing between breaths as her partner kissed up and down her leg, rubbing and massaging the skin. She said something. He stopped, raised himself on his tiptoes to hold his ear as close to her mouth as possible, nodded in understanding. Wanda tilted her head, confused by the scene of the man loosening the collar and moving it an inch higher on the leg. He slapped the device twice, then said something to the wearer. She replied, and he kissed her deeply again before flipping the coin.
Her leg shook and kicked from the shock. He walked behind her and pulled her hair until she was forced to look at the ceiling. Another shock. She screamed. He walked back to her front, rubbed her leg and kissed her stomach. The nipple clamps rested on his head as his kissed her arms, each one still tucked neatly against her.
“This is so fucking hot,” Wanda nearly moaned, eyes devouring the scene.
The man had buried himself in his partner’s cunt, his arms clinging to her legs, and her head slumped forward to watch. The jock strap framed his tight ass, so very slappable, so very fuckable.
Vision laughed at her. “Would you like me to take the edge off?” How long had it taken? 5 minutes? Ten?
He glanced at his watch. Thirty minutes had gone by. Something wicked flicked his heart. He had his hand down Wanda’s pants in the same instant she said “Yes, please.”
Warm, slick, home. Caveman Vision didn’t care about carpal tunnel or ergonomics. He hooked his hand more steeply into her underwear as she wriggled atop him, eyes now set on a different scene. Her breaths came out as sporadic little puffs, each one in time with his gently grazings across her clit. Getting her off was almost as natural as getting himself off, his fingertips brushing her hood, the back down to gather more slick. Her neck looked bitable. He nipped it.
“Fuck,” She cursed, bucking into his hand. He removed it and nipped ehr again when she whined.
“What channel are we watching now?” He asked, hands on her hips and moving her ever so slightly to give friction to his own desires. Despite wearing just slacks and a button down with rolled up sleeves, Vision felt like he was wearing a snow suit. The heat was unbearable, and most of the people seemed to be either naked or nearly there.
“The… That,” Wanda pointed. He followed the line of her finger to a spanking bench where a man was straddled over the structure and wiggling his ass at the man standing behind him with a leather belt folded in half. His cock stood proud, swaying along with the balls as the man grabbed his partner’s asscheeks and gave them a good rub. The man getting hit had no ties keeping him put, but looked back at his punisher with fear.
His punisher gave a look of pity back, tickled the leather belt’s edge down the man’s back. The buckle was slowly moved across his thighs, the metal likely cool and calming.
The leather came down hard with a crack. The spanked man nearly fell off the furniture, only to scramble back on and in position. His partner walked up to stand right behind him, cock to ass, and bent forward into a sustained hug as the hit man cried. He continued laying on his partner, but stopped the hug to free his hands to put down the partner’s sides. The bottom pushed back into his top, erection flopping down large and proud from where it was hidden between the bench and body.
Vision pushed upward in a nearly passive thrust. “Would you like that? For me to punish you after all this time?” He could see her laid across his knee, spanking her like a child. Maybe back in her creep room, where she began the perversion of her childhood’s innocence. There was something darkly funny about the thought. She could wear the same outfit she donned for stripping, the babysitter outfit. Yes, she was a graduate student earning extra cash babysitting. Except, the child was at a sleepover that Friday. He left a message. She came over anyway, and for what? A tip from last time? He had a tip for her indeed. She could collect after being punished for being a greedy little thing. “Would you have let me?”
The topping man stroked his partner's cock like he was milking an animal, all firm grim and light pats to their back with the other. Shushing him, keeping him calm.
“Maybe,” Wanda leaned back into his chest, looked up at him with those green doe eyes. Would he like to see tears in them? Fear? Maybe. He wouldn't feel power from it. Pride, perhaps. Anyone can hunt a wild animal with a gun or knife. True sportsmanship is getting the animal to eagerly walk into your kitchen. His mouth watered. The topping man put a device over his bottom’s balls that looked like a flower pressing vice. Vision shifted uncomfortably. Wanda grabbed his hand, still tacky from fingering her, and molded it over her breast. A small squeeze to be generous. She sighed. Incredible. Could he come just from this, the erotic sound of her sighs and the brazzen displays before him? It was live, interactive porn. The future was now. And yet, there was something keenly more beautiful to it. There was no camera being performed into or pointedly not being acted into. There was no editing or glamor. The lights weren’t even very dimmed. He had been in bodegas with shittier lighting. Often!
Wanda’s nipple was raised enough to locate and pinch through her bra, so he did. Something churned in his stomach. Knowledge that there was everything around him that could fill notebooks of erotic literature, but his mind was centering in on the woman atop him. Her arms had raised goosebumps, and her breath quickened. She huffed the air from gently parted lips, eyes dark with arousal. It wasn't difficult for her to center his hardening cock in the valley of her asscheeks clothed by her jean. The seam lines felt excellent. Oh, yes. Entirely splendid. She hummed in a way that made it clear she knew what channel she wanted to watch next.
Vision let his arm fall away and wanda rearranged herself in a wide saddle to face him.
“Howdy,” He slipped his hands under her shirt to settle on her lower back.
She palmed at his sizable bulge. “What did you pack in the bag?”
What? “What?”
“What’s in the bag?” She repeated the question, massaging him lightly.
His cock twitched from the attention. “My penis?”
She tapped his member harshly. “No, caveman. The bag you stashed away. In the other room.”
“Ah.” She really did make him dumb. It was entirely her fault. “A blanket. And coconut oil.”
“Works wonders,” They said in unison.
Wanda attacked his throat, sucking a dark bruise where his pulse throbbed. Nimble fingers unzipped his pants, flicked the button away. “Ah-“ he gasped when her hand wrapped around him. Wanda bit his jaw.
She was insane. Absolutely unhinged. He palmed her ass and tilted his head to give her more room to nibble. Two women with perfect tits and diapered asses ran past while holding hands. How was this reality? Where the fuck were they?
Didn’t matter. Wanda on knees. Wanda pulling him out of his pants. Warm. Safe. Throat. Good. Eyes locked. No one else. Just her. Just them. Yes. Her tongue traveling up his shaft, both hands firm around the base to hold him steady. Spit. He commanded (begged?) in his mind. She pressed the edge of her front teeth ever to gently at the middle of his cock, then dragged it upward as one long, erotic scratch. That was new. It felt dangerous, forbidden. Where did she learn that? Here? In the few moments he left her? “Where did you learn that?” He gasped as she sucked his head like a pacifier.
She silently pulled off him. “Porn.” Vacuum resume. Mouth as hat for little Vision. Cute. More eye contact. Hot.
Vision started unbuttoning his shirt, eyes never leaving hers. She was kneeling on concrete. Must hurt. Cold. Hard. Gagging. She choked herself up off of him, gasped for air. Cute.
He pet her, finger threading in and through her hair as she caught her breath. The poor thing should know better. Probably does. Wanda would learn a lesson and repeat a mistake on purpose anyway. She was that kind of woman. Thank god she was that kind of woman. Vision put a second hand in her hair and pulled her back down onto his cock. “My good girl,” he cooed at her, let his head drop back and shirt fall open as he enjoyed. Her one hand left his cock. It reappeared pinching his nipple. She was determined. Nails scratched back down his chest. “More. Harder.” He panted.
Wanda stopped sucking him, letting go of his member. It flopped down and to the side. Felt odd. Awkward. Two manicures ripped across his skin, clavicle to hip. Blue eyes met green. Blue eyes then fell to admire the red lines which marked him.
“Right,” Vision said, tucking himself back in and pulling Wanda to her feet. He didn’t let go of her entirely. Rather, placed a firm hand on the back of her neck, fingers resting on her shoulders. “Walk.”
Her legs moved like pistons. Slight pressure to the left or right steered her. And then they were in front of his locker.
“Pants.” He told her, and she offered no objection to reaching in and producing the key.
Something about training a pet. No. Something about a trained pet. His. The key fit perfectly to the surprise of no one and the locker door swung open.