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Bruce shifted on his knees, the plush cushion beneath him doing little to soothe the persistent ache that was settling into his joints. He had been kneeling here for what felt like hours, hands bound tightly behind his back with smooth, black silk ropes.
He knew, of course, why his hands had been bound. He had a disgraceful habit, after all, of slipping his fingers between his own thighs during times like these, and selfishly seeking relief. And that was strictly forbidden. He was thankful to his master for this foresight. The last thing he wanted, after all, was to be bad.
The thought alone of being bad, of the punishment that would follow, made his cunt pulse, slickness dripping down his thighs.
He shuddered slightly, a thick line of drool escaping from his stretched lips and dripping onto the bare skin of his thigh. Shifting his weight minutely, he adjusted his sore limbs. Immediately, a large, warm hand descended from above. It settled heavily on the crown of his head, fingers threading through his sweat-dampened hair and petting slowly.
“I told you to stay still, sweetheart.” Clark’s voice was a warm, low murmur. “You can stay still for a while longer, can’t you? For me?”
Bruce swallowed convulsively around the thick cock in his throat, blinking through the blur of tears in his eyes as he gazed upward. Clark looked devastatingly handsome from this subservient angle; between the sharp line of his jaw, his warm eyes, and pretty glasses, Bruce was awestruck. He let out a wet, garbled groan of agreement, the sound muffled by the thick intrusion.
Clark chuckled. “Just a little while longer,” He assured, his voice filled with nothing but warmth. His hand pressed down gently on the back of Bruce’s head, pushing him down that last inch until his nose was buried firmly in the coarse, dark curls at the base.
Breathing in Clark’s thick, musky scent, his eyes fluttered shut. Drool seeped from the corners of his mouth, dripping onto the fine wool of Clark’s trousers below. He forced himself to relax his spasming throat, to accept the perfect weight of that massive cock and hold it as deep as possible. With Clark’s powerful thighs bracketing his head and his cock warmed in his mouth, he was more than happy to spend hours in this position. Pair those with the addictive taste of the Kryptonian’s seed, and he would willingly stay here forever, just for more.
However, in the end, his body betrayed him. Barely fifteen minutes later, a sharp, needy throb between his thighs made him shift again, his hips twitching involuntarily as he sought any sort of friction.
He tugged pathetically at the ropes binding his wrists, the silk biting beautifully into his skin. He ached to touch himself, to ride his own fingers while he tended to his master’s cock. It wouldn’t take much to make him cum, not after so long on edge. He could feel the evidence of his desperation coating his thighs, pooling on the plush cushion beneath him.
His hips shifted again, a helpless little roll.
Above him, Clark exhaled slowly. The steady typing sounds that served as a backdrop for this session ceased. “I told you to stay still, baby,” Clark sighed, his voice edged ever so slightly with sharpness. That large hand returned to Bruce’s hair, not stroking now, but tangling in the dark strands to hold him in place. “Are you getting bored, hm? Is my attention not enough for you?”
Bruce shook his head as best he could, his eyes wide and swimming with tears as he gazed up at his master.
“Oh?” Clark hummed, lips tugging upward. He shifted in his chair, the polished toe of his dress shoe sliding between Bruce’s spread thighs. The leather tip pressed against his swollen, throbbing clit. “Oh.”
Bruce gasped wetly around the cock in his mouth. His entire body trembled, a violent wave of need crashing through him. He couldn’t stop his hips from rocking forward, ever so slightly, despite his orders.
“You’re just a needy little slut, aren’t you?” Clark mused, his tone conversational. He began to rub the tip of his shoe in slow, maddening circles through Bruce’s dripping folds, soaking the leather in his fluids. “My needy little slut. Well, go on then, baby. Since you can’t help yourself, get off on my shoe. Show me how much you need it.”
Bruce’s cheeks lit up in shame at Clark’s filthy words, his embarrassment drowned instantly by his desire for pleasure. With a broken, garbled moan, he began to rock his hips in earnest, rubbing his slick cunt against the unforgiving leather and chasing the friction with pathetic grinding. He moaned once more against the cock in his throat, beginning to bob his head in a clumsy attempt to keep in time with his own hasty movements.
Clark leaned back in his chair, the picture of dominance. He rested his chin on one hand, watching as Bruce devolved into a mindless, needy little thing. Bruce’s eyes fluttered shut, a continuous stream of muffled sounds pouring from his throat. It didn’t take long at all for his hips to rock faster, humping against Clark’s foot with nothing but desperation.
With a final, garbled scream of his master’s name, Bruce came. It ripped through him, his body convulsing with pleasure. He sank down against Clark’s foot, trembling through the aftershocks as his chest heaved.
After a moment of letting him settle through the aftershocks, Clark used his grip to guide Bruce’s head back into a steady, shallow rhythm on his cock, which was now achingly hard and dripping profusely against Bruce’s tongue. When Bruce’s eyes blearily opened again, Clark smiled down at him possessively.
“Is that better, baby?” He cooed, dragging Bruce’s face along his length. “You look like such a pretty little slut right now, dripping on my shoe like that.” He purred, lips tugging upward. “You must be thirsty after cumming so hard for me, hm?”
Bruce swallowed around the thick cock, squirming slightly against the Oxford still pressed between his thighs at Clark’s dirty words.
“Go on, baby, take what’s yours.” Clark purred. “Drink every last drop for me.”
Clark didn’t wait for his response, not that he needed to. The hand in Bruce’s hair tightened as his hips began to roll up, driving his cock deeper into Bruce’s throat with a slow, inexorable force that made the vigilante’s eyes water.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” Clark grunted, forcing his cock into that perfect throat once again. He shuddered as it spasmed wildly around the intrusion. “Open up for me, take it all.”
He waited one moment for Bruce to choke on his cock, before pulling him nearly all the way off his inhuman length, only to force him down again. The rhythm was brutal, each downward stroke pushing Bruce’s nose into his crotch; fucking out a helpless little whine. It was music to Clark’s ears.
“You love this, don’t you?” Clark grunted, composure fraying. His other hand came down to grip Bruce’s jaw, cradling it in his hand as he fucked into that open, waiting mouth. “You love having your mouth used, hm? Love being my little cocksleeve.”
Bruce could only manage a choked, affirmative gurgle. He did. God, he did. His own pleasure meant absolutely nothing to him compared to this, compared to the knowledge that he was pleasing Clark so wholeheartedly. Clark’s filthy words had slick continuously dripping onto the shoe between his legs, his hips continuing their rocking slowly against it.
Clark’s pace increased, becoming punishing at Bruce’s agreement. The wet, obscene sounds of Bruce’s throat being fucked filled the quiet room, punctuated by Clark’s low groans and the creak of the leather chair. Bruce was utterly pliant, drool and tears streaking his face, dripping onto Clark’s thighs. He was a beautiful, ruined mess.
The sight only made Clark harder.
His hips stuttered as he drove them upward into Bruce’s waiting throat. “You’re going to swallow it all,” He breathed, voice thick as he tilted his head back slightly, baring the column of his throat. “You’re not going to waste a single drop, are you? My greedy little cumslut.”
Bruce was beyond speech, letting his actions speak for themselves instead. He doubled his efforts, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked as hard as he could, swallowing around the monstrous length as it brutalized his throat. He was desperate for a taste of Clark’s seed, to be filled with it.
Clark’s rhythm faltered at Bruce’s increased pressure. A deep, ragged groan tore from his chest as his fingers tightened in Bruce’s messy hair, tugging weakly. “Bruce, now! Take it. Take it.” He hissed, the words falling from his lips in a breathless demand. He shoved Bruce down one final time, hilting himself completely in the man’s throat and holding him down firmly.
And then, he came.
Thick, hot cum gushed down Bruce’s throat in powerful, rhythmic pulses, so fast that it was almost too much to keep up with. He swallowed convulsively, throat working to keep up with the torrent, to take every last drop of that addictive seed. The flavour was intoxicatingly Clark, and he simply couldn’t get enough. He drank down every drop like a man dying of thirst, his mind going white with pleasure. With a deep moan, he rocked his hips pathetically against the leather of Clark’s shoe, once again.
Clark rode out his orgasm with slow, grinding rolls of his hips, milking every last drop into Bruce’s eager mouth. When he finally stilled, he didn’t pull away quite yet. Instead, he kept Bruce impaled, his grip loosening to instead stroke gently at his hair. In response, Bruce continued to suckle and lick weakly, his tongue laving the still hard cock in his mouth.
After a long, breathless moment, Clark carefully, almost reluctantly, guided Bruce off him. The moment the thick, flared tip popped from between those swollen, glistening lips, Bruce let out a soft hiccup. The motion made a pearly strand of cum spill from his lips, trailing obscenely down his drool-coated chin.
Clark’s eyes tracked it with a predator’s focus. He swiped his thumb through the sticky fluid, pressing it back against Bruce’s lips. “My perfect, greedy little cumslut, aren’t you?” He breathed, cock twitching.
Bruce’s tongue darted out obediently, lapping the droplet from Clark’s thumb with a soft, kitten-like lick, his eyes hazy and unfocused as he stared up, utterly lost in subspace.
Clark shuddered at the sight. He brushed his thumb over Bruce’s lower lip once more before hooking it inside that plush, swollen mouth and pressing down until Bruce’s mouth fell open once again. With a satisfied smile, Clark fed his cock into that warm hole inch by inch, watching it disappear until Bruce was fully sheathed once again, a soft, contented sigh escaping his nose as he lay his head against Clark’s thigh.
“Now,” He said, clearing his throat and adjusting his posture, settling back into his chair. “I’ll only be a while longer.” He murmured. “Stay still, baby, I have work to do.”
Bruce trembled ever so slightly, eyes fluttering shut once again as he went completely limp. He was sated now, his belly warm with Clark’s thick seed and the addictive taste of it still coating his tongue.
Truthfully, there was nowhere else he would rather be than right here, on his knees, with his mouth full of Clark’s cock.
Nowhere.