“Barnes and Romanova, this is Natasha,” says the voice on the other end of the phone, and Steve pauses, awkward.
“Uh- um, hi, my name is Steve I was looking to - well I’m calling to look in to -” He feels a little stupid, because he doesn’t usually stumble over his words like this, even in... uncharted territory.
“Don’t hurt yourself, hon, I get it,” the woman replies, and it sounds like she’s smiling. “If you’re interested in a session, we’ll start out with some simple paper work, for which I’ll need your name and email.”
“Oh, okay,” he says looking down at his desk where his laptop is open to the website of the business he’s calling. “It’s email@example.com? And my name is Steve. Rogers,” He adds, twisting his mouth, and looking up at the wall in front of him.
There’s a brief pause. “Okay, Steve, I’m going to email you a pdf file, I assume you’d like to schedule your session soon, so return the completed paper work to the email you received it from, and depending on what you indicate on your forms, either James or I will get back to you from there.”
“Okay, thank you. That’s um... that’s it?” He’s surprised really, he thought he was going to have to do a lot of stuff for this phone call, but in retrospect, the emailing thing makes sense.
“For now. Like I said, once you return the email we’ll get back to you with everything else. There are still a few steps after this. It’s very thorough,” she says, blunt and a little stern, but not unpleasant. Steve nods, like she’s there.
“Yeah, no I understand, makes sense. Thank you, though, for your help,” he replies.
“Sure thing, Steve. Look forward to hearing from you.” It’s perfunctory, but it’s nice.
“Thanks. G’bye,” he mutters, bringing the phone away from his ear for a moment, then hits end.
The card Tony gave him, with the name, website, and phone number to Barnes & Romanova is sitting up against the screen of his laptop. It’s simple, black print on a white card, with those three lines alone, nothing else. He hadn’t even been sure what it was, until Tony raised his eyebrows and said, “I think it may uh. Interest you.”
Steve hadn’t really been in the market for this sort of thing, because it was new to him, for one and he wasn’t exactly into paying for sex, though Tony rather pointedly explained that it wasn’t sex. “This is a business just like any other, and they perform a service. Your getting off is not a sure thing, so... whatever, they’re great, just give ‘em a call. Trust me.”
So he was taking a chance with this, however nervous he may have been at the outside. Just ten minutes ago he had sat down to look around the website given, and read what they had to say. It was simple, like their card, black on white, and there was a grainy, slightly blurry black and white picture of someone, which Steve couldn’t tell was a man or a woman, from behind with their arms elaborately roped behind their back. That alone was intriguing, maybe a little sexy when Steve thought about it, and he shifted in his chair a little as he clicked on the “About” page.
It was short and sweet, describing that it was a business run by a man and a woman, who simply provided service for those people interested in paying for a BDSM “experience” by “session”. It went unsaid that, y’know, one or more parties involved might be getting off, but it wasn’t exclusively about that. About sex at all, which Steve understood. And while he had never actively been involved in a scene, or with a partner who was interested in it, he certainly was. The site specified that they could meet anyone’s needs, beginner and experienced alike, so he felt it was good for him.
And now, about a half an hour later, he’s sitting at his desk again, watching his email icon and drumming his fingers against his laptop. A little red and white “1” popped up . He clicked his email and then the new one he had from a one firstname.lastname@example.org, titled “B&R Submission Forms”.
There were two attachments, one titled “Policies and Practices” and the other “Interest Inventory”. The first was for him to keep, they’d have a copy for him to sign when he came in, but it simply stated that this was being performed with informed consent of all parties, they weren’t doing anything against the law, that they needed a full VD screening from a customer and would supply one of their own if needed, and that they are not liable for any lasting injuries sustained on their premises, etcetera. The Practices section was more about how they kept their establishment clean and what not, toy policies and things of that nature. Like Natasha had said, it was all very thorough, and to Steve’s slight surprise, intensely professional. Then again, running something like that probably needed to be. So he opened the second document.
It’s a questionnaire mostly, with a few disclaimers at the beginning, the first being this:
“The sessions you sign up for, and questions you answer here are not exclusively about arousal, or you deriving sexual pleasure from our services. Some people consider BDSM a different sort of release.”
And the second, reads as follows:
“That being said, we know that the BDSM lifestyle is different for each and every customer, so please feel free to specify anything you would like included in your experience in the space provided after the inquiry. We will try to accommodate everyone.”
Steve raises his eyebrows and scrolls down to the first question
Are you a beginner? ____. Experienced? ____.
He marks an “X” in the space for beginner. Next question.
How long would you prefer your session to be? 30 minutes ____, 1 hour ____, 2 hours ____. (If you would like a longer time, please specify in the space below, and note you will be charged accordingly.)
That, he isn’t sure about, so he checks the 1 hour box. It seems like a long time. Next.
Would you prefer your dominant to be a female ____, male ____, both ____, surprise me! ____?
He isn’t intrepid about his taste in men, but he pauses for a moment, because Steve wasn’t exactly out yet. Despite this, he marks an “X” over the male space.
The next question is less a question than an inventory, asking the client, customer, whatever, what they were interested in during their time at Barnes & Romanova. It starts off simple, blindfolding, handcuffs, spanking, nipple play. Then escalates slightly to gagging, whipping and flogging (with a riding crop or otherwise, please specify), vibrators, dildos, anal plugs (and anal beads after that), then further to light rope bondage, advanced rope bondage, bondage elsewhere (???), cock and ball torture, humiliation, anal play, pet play, medical play, erotic electrostimulation (We regret any disatisfaction, but we cannot provide this service for those clients with heart problems.), object insertion, device bondage, and Steve starts to get a little overwhelmed.
He checks the light rope bondage, spanking, anal play spaces, and the last “surprise me!” space. The rest could be explored later, perhaps.
After that it’s a few questions about his personality, any allergies or heath problems he has, and what his preferred safeword was. He flounders a little with that one, and types in “America”. It’s stupid, in hindsight, but whatever. The very last question takes a bit of considering.
Overall, what are you looking for out of your B&R experience?
Followed by a few blank lines for the answer. Steve stares at the screen and thought for a while before he sets his hands on the keyboard again.
To broaden my sexual horizons and let off a little steam.
Once he finishes everything, he looks it all over nervously, hits send, and shuts his laptop.
He hears back the next evening, around six after he’s just got home from work when he’s standing at his kitchen counter with a glass of wine as he pulls his tie loose. His cell starts ringing and it’s a number he doesn’t recognize, but he’s in the habit of picking it up anyway because he works for the government and it usually has to do with work. So he answers with, “This is Rogers”, in a stern voice.
“Steve Rogers, I hope that is?” A man says, and Steve frowns.
“Yeaaaah...” He replies warily.
“Sorry, ‘scuse my manners, this is James. From Barnes & Romanova?”
“Oh, yeah, no right. Hi, sorry,” Again stumbling, but he’ll get over it.
“No, not at all, I know you talked to my colleague last time, so this is my number,” James explains. “Anyway I’m looking at your forms here, and I just wanted to go over a few things with you before we schedule your session. You alright to do that right now?”
“Yeah, sure,” Steve says. He slides his glass over the island and goes to sit on one of the stools there.
“Great. So by beginner you mean beginner, or first timer?” James sounds amiable, fairly casual, and it puts Steve totally at ease. Even though this guy is a total stranger.
“First timer, sorry, I should have put that in there somewhere,” Steve says, smiling a little.
“Nah, no problem, more phone time, it’s okay,” James says with a laugh, “So I’ll go over a few things here with you, because I can’t meet with you save for when you come in. Then we’ll get you scheduled for a day, at very least. And I’ll call to confirm once we’ve received your tests, which you can fax or mail or whatever.”
“Okay, sounds good,” Steve replies with a nod, and reaches for his glass of wine, taking a healthy sip.
“Alright, great. So we advise everyone to wear something comfortable, jeans and a t-shirt, and to bring an extra set of clothing if you like. Uuum, make sure you have breakfast and stuff, not dehydrated, y’know. Oh, how did you want to pay?”
“How’d you prefer I pay?”
“Cash or credit is easiest, we’ve had a few bad checks, but you sound like a decent guy, so it’s up to you,” James laughs and Steve finds himself smiling too, almost bashfully.
“I could just be trying to sound decent,” he says in return, rubbing his thumb along the rim of his glass.
“If you weren’t a decent guy you probably wouldn’t say that.” James laughs again. “Anyway, so you indicated...” He mumbles off the things from the interest inventory Steve had checked off, almost like he’s saying them to himself. “Anal play as in toys? Vibrators, or just a little something?”
Steve opens his mouth, tongue working a little. “Uuuum,” he starts, shrugging like James can see. “I um, am not entirely sure? Like I said I’m a - well for that I’m sort of experienced but I’m open to whatever, honestly.” He takes another swig of his wine.
“Okay. And again since it’s your first time I won’t go whole hog on you, so. We’ll see how things feel when you’re here. Anything you’re against, that I can cross off the list? For the surprise me bit.” James sounds like he’s asking Steve what to put on the grocery list, if he needed detergent or not.
“Uuh... go ahead and cross off uh...pet...play, medical too I..yeah. Also the electro thing. None of the... dick torture either. Please.”
James chuckles. “It all sounds daunting for everybody at first. Soon you might want all that back on the list.” Steve doubts that, but he laughs as well and runs a hand through his hair.
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“You work Monday through Friday or something like that?” James asks next, totally changing the subject, which is actually fine with Steve.
“Alright, then I’d suggest a Saturday, if you like? Or maybe a Friday night, which ever is easier for you. I have a Friday night open in two months, and a Saturday at noon in about four weeks.”
Steve squints at his calendar on the fridge. “Saturday the fifteenth?”
“That’s the one.”
“That’s good for me,” Steve replies, and he’s a little nervous again. He doesn’t find anything wrong with what he wants to do, how he’s going about it - in fact he thinks he’s made a great choice in who he picked to go to this with - but he’s simply... nervous. He doesn’t know how he’ll do with the pain stuff, or sensory deprivation, but he’s excited to try. It’s a mixture of excitement and nervousness. He’s giddy.
“Perfect. You want our fax - oh, and we can either do this at our location, or your home, it’s entirely up to you. What you’d be comfortable with.”
Steve looks over his shoulder at his one bedroom apartment, and twists his mouth. “Yeah, I don’t know where we could do that here...” He muses, frowning. “Your location, I guess.”
“Great. I’ll just email you our fax and address, and you can get us your results however you like.”
He’s thinking fax already. “Alright, sounds great. Thank you for getting back to me so quick.”
“Yeah, no problem. ‘s my job,” James laughs again, such a pleasant sound. “Okay, so I’ll see you in a month then, Steve. Looking forward to meeting you.”
“Yeah you too. See you then,” Steve says, smiling.
It’d totally be a lie to say he didn’t jerk off at least twice thinking about what might happen once he got to meet this James guy and what would go on. He conjured up things he’d seen and got off to previously, even watched a little bondage porn, and god he could not wait. During the week, he took a long lunch to go get his tests done, which would come back a week later, and he faxed them to the number he’d been given after that. That weekend, James called again, and they talked for a little while about nothing in particular, which was a pleasant surprise for Steve, and of course, served to excite him even more.
The two weeks pass quickly, much to Steve’s relief, and Saturday morning he wakes up anxious. Excited, too, but he’s nervous he’ll do something wrong. Or that maybe he won’t like it, but he forces himself to calm down over a cup of tea at breakfast (which he keeps light). He showers and scrubs his skin pink, just to make sure he feels... prepared, or something like that. After that he shaves, brushes his teeth, then goes to pick out clothes. T-shirt and jeans seem simply enough, so he pulls on one pair and stuffs another in a backpack, which makes him feel like he’s going on vacation. But he may not even need it, so who knows.
By then it’s almost 11, so he leaves, gets on his bike and drives into the city. The building, when he finds it fifteen minutes later, looks like a very average apartment building. The doorman lets him in, directs him to the elevator, then takes out the card that started this all, and presses the button for the sixth floor. He had written down the address earlier, just so he could remember, and when he reaches the floor, starts looking for number 61. Which doesn’t prove to be hard at all, seeing as there are only four doors lining the whole of the hallway. 61 is at the end on the left, and Steve comes to stand in front of it. He inhales deeply, exhales, then raises his fist to knock.
Moments later, the door swings open, and Steve is sure he looks... dumbstruck. Because the guy who opens the door is... really something.
“Um - hi - I - “
“Steve?” The guy asks--and he must be James, has to be, even though he hasn’t introduced himself yet.
“Yeah,” Steve sighs, smiling as some of the tension starts to leak out of him. “You must be James.” He holds out a hand, and as James nods, taking his hand. His grip is firm and his shake strong, and he smiles, bright and welcoming. Steve likes him already, and some of the nervousness that had been working him up bled away. Not all of it, but some.
“Great to meet you. Come on in,” James says when they let go, and he steps aside, holding the door for Steve. He can see, even before he walks in, that the apartment is empty. There’s nothing between him and the floor-to-ceiling windows on the other side of the place, save for a rather thick slab of wood, rigged with three metal... pipes, so that all in all, they form a square. He can’t quite see it, but there’s a chair and end table up against the windows, but he’s distracted from that when James closes the door behind him.
“Alright, so, this is it huh?” James starts with another easy smile as he makes his way to Steve’s side. The blond doesn’t know what to say to that. So he just nods, smiles, and looks around a little more. “You can um.. set your stuff down there, next to the table and we can get started now, if you like?” James adds gently, motioning toward a small table along the wall. There’s a length of rope on the table, what might be a cane, scissors, a black roll of something, might be tape, but that’s all. Steve tries to... not let that get to him.
He sets his bag there, and at James’ suggestion, he toes out of his shoes--which is when he notices the other man is already barefoot as well. Picking up a few sheets of paper from his little supply table, James hands them over to Steve.
“This months test results, in case you’re too concerned,” he says, and Steve takes them, giving them a once over so he’s satisfied. When he goes to hand the paper back, he gets handed a clipboard and a pen. “Just one last bit of paper work, to make sure you’re, y’know, completely alright with everything.”
“It’s fine,” Steve says, glancing up at James momentarily, before he sets to skimming the paper, and signing the line at the bottom. Again, he hands it back, James sets it down on the table, and turns back to Steve.
“Alright, so. Since this is your first time, like I said when we first talked, we won’t get too serious unless you feel totally comfortable. And that’s what this is about, just so we’re clear--what you’re comfortable with and what you’re not comfortable with. This can get pretty intense, so, just...don’t be afraid to use your safeword, okay?” James says. It’s very obvious that he... cares for Steve’s well being. Or his customers’, anyhow. Either way, it makes him seem very professional, very sincere. It’s great, and Steve can’t help but smile at him. Doesn’t hurt that he’s as handsome as he is.
“Yeah.” Steve hopes he doesn’t sound dumb, the way he’s been answering. James just cocks a half grin and steps in close.
“Can you give me a little more than one or two word answers? We’re about to be real close, which...” His hands fall to the buttons of Steve’s shirt. “Is this alright? Just getting acquainted. Touch and all,” he says, and Steve immediately nods. James smiles and looks down as he slips the first button free of its hole.
“Yeah, I understand, it’s fine I um,” he babbles a little, takes a deep breath, “am a little worked up I guess?” James shrugs.
“It’s normal. Just take some deep breaths, I’ve got water here if you want some before we start.” His eyebrows raise a little and the way he looks into Steve’s eyes seems sympathetic. The buttons on Steve’s shirt are undone, probably have been for a few moments, but Steve hadn’t realized.
“No, I’m alright,” he says as James pushes at the sides of his shirt.
“You can take that off. And, I guess I should have mentioned this earlier, but when you step through that door you call me sir. That clear?” His eyebrows raise again, but there’s something hard in his expression. It’s a significant change that goes straight to Steve’s cock.
“Yes sir,” he says with a nod as he shrugs his shirt off of his shoulders and drops it by his bag. James takes up one length of rope, slings it over his shoulder, and tosses another at the wood block base of the structure in the middle of the room.
“That sounded too easy. You a military boy Steve?” He asks as he waves Steve toward the block. The blond goes, stepping up on the wood, which is thick and dry under his feet. He faces James.
“Yes, army, sir.” The change in the mood of their conversation was sudden, but somehow Steve falls into it easily. Yes sir, no sir, more sir.
“That right? Arms up soldier,” James replies and just the timber of his voice makes Steve shudder. He’s at least half way hard by the time James starts to bind his arms at the wrists to the metal rigging behind him. The rope is soft, and Steve focuses on the feeling as it wraps round and round the skin, gently enough that it doesn’t hurt but secures him soundly to the pipe.
James works quickly and efficiently, looping the rope around Steve’s arm at the elbow, then shoulder, and after that he winds the rope across Steve’s chest. He works across to Steve’s other arm and the whole process gives the blond time to calm himself, to adjust. It feels good.
“Pinching anywhere?” James asks, stepping around so he’s standing in front of Steve. He looks up at the other man with one hand on his stomach.
“No sir,” Steve answers quietly and watches James smile.
“Doing good Steve. I’m going to blindfold you now, that alright with you?” He runs a hand down Steve’s abdomen as he speaks, thumbing the hem of the blond's jeans.
“Yes sir,” Steve breathes, looking down at James, and making sure to meet his eyes.
“Good. Good boy.”
Moving to his table again, James retrieves what Steve had thought to be tape, but as the other man unrolls a bit of it he realizes it’s coban. His stomach clenches a little when James steps up behind him to wrap a section of the self-adhesive strip around Steve’s eyes. The fit is gentle, but it does black out his vision, or at least keep his eyes closed for the most part. Steve inhales deeply, and exhales slowly, calming himself again as he listens to the barely-there sound of James’s feet on the concrete floor.
When his fingers brush against Steve’s stomach, his muscles clench reflexively, and relax as he feels James tug open the button and zip on his jeans. He pulls them down, hands pressing in against Steve’s muscled thighs as he goes. Once the clothing is pooled around the blond’s ankles, James pats his leg.
“Step out,” he says, stern, and Steve obeys. He feels his cock throb as it fills with blood, because being on display like that, but unable to see... well apparently it does it for him.
All at once, James’s hands come down hard on Steve’s chest, and it almost shocks a breath out of him. He tells himself to breath through it as James drags his fingers down the blond’s chest and stomach.
“Flex your stomach,” James orders. Steve does, breath held, and James gives it a series of light slaps. Hard enough to sting, but not to knock the breath out of him. The sensation is different and Steve gasps a bit, because when James is done with that, he drags his fingers down Steve’s chest again.
His hands move down to Steve’s thighs, fingers and the heels of his palms pressing into skin and muscle, almost like a massage. Steve finds his head lolling back a bit, his mouth falling open a bit at the contact. Again James’s hands disappear, only to return to the tops of Steve’s legs, where fingers dig in, and scrape down the meat of his thighs. Steve can’t help the whimper that escapes him.
“You like that?” James asks, letting his hands drop once more.
“Yes sir,” Steve sighs, sagging a bit against the bonds keeping his arms in place. He can hear James walking away yet again, no doubt to his table. It’s a quick trip this time, and when he returns, he touches the inside of Steve’s ankle.
“Spread.” And Steve does, widening his stance a bit at first, then more when James bids him to do so. The softness of the rope winds around his ankles, and James tightens it to what Steve assumes is the pole on the end. He does the same for Steve’s other foot, and it immobilizes him completely. He even has to test the bonds. They’re strong, even for him.
James chuckles when he sees Steve move against the ropes. He can see that Steve’s hard through his briefs, but he’s not going to go there just yet. Once more he moves in, tells the blond to flex, and switches between slapping his thighs and stomach gently until his skin is flushed red.
“That color looks good on you, Stevie,” he chuckles as he stands back and admires his handy work. Steve is breathing hard now, lips parted on every panted breath.
“Th - thank you sir,” he says, and James bites his lip. He picks up the pair of scissors and fits them in his fingers, stepping forward to take the bottom hem of Steve’s briefs in his free hand. Slowly, he slices through the fabric up to the elastic band, then moves to the other side. Steve’s hips twitch forward, as if he could get any friction against his cock that way, and maybe he could have, if his briefs weren’t so loose from the severed fabric. James smiles and shifts his weight slightly, drawing the tip of the scissors over Steve’s thigh lightly.
“You want me to touch you?” he asks, casual as ever, and Steve whimpers.
He can’t help the movement of his hips because he needs something, anything. His skin is burning and his cock is so hard it hurts, and now he can’t even rub against his underwear.
“Yes please,” he swallows, “sir.”
But James doesn’t touch him, save for that light touch of the scissor tip. Steve takes that reprieve to catch his breath, slow it back to something next to normal, and straighten his posture a little. Collect himself before James starts in on him again.
“Mmm... I guess I said I would go easy on you...” James muses as he sets the scissors down and reaches up to trace a finger along the bulge of Steve’s dick. It’s a good size, from what he can tell, which is generally something he avoids thinking with clients. But Steve is also fantastically attractive. More than most of his clients, if James is honest, but that happens sometimes and he can’t dwell on it.
Humming to himself, he brushes his fingers along Steve’s cock with a bit more pressure, forcing the fabric of his underwear to press against the head where he’s wet with precome. After a few moments, it soaks into the grey fabric, just a small, dark spot. Steve moans softly, his brow furrowed as his hips push forward again urgently.
“Ah, ah,” James swats Steve’s thigh, admonishing him lightly. “I’ll touch you if you’re good. Be a good boy for me, Steve.”
Steve simply nods, biting his lips, wetting them and when James looks up they’re cherry red and slick. He’d like to put his dick between them, thrust and make Steve choke, but he’s A) not allowed to do that, company policy, and B) this is about Steve, not him.
“You like sucking cock, Steve?” James says conversationally as he reaches up and pinches one of Steve’s pert, rosy nipples hard between his thumb and knuckle of his forefinger. The blond just gasps in reply, brow furrowing and his whole, powerful body arching toward James’s touch. “Did you hear me?” He says, raising his voice as he raises his other hand to Steve’s other nipple, paying it the same attention.
“Yes - yes sir I did. I do, I - once I - “
“You’ve got the lips for it,” James replies, glancing up at Steve’s mouth again.
He smoothes his hands over Steve’s chest, rolls his thumbs over the blond’s nipples, before pinching them again hard. This time Steve hisses until James lets him go.
“Um - thank you sir,” he stammers, and James bites his bottom lip, looking up at the other man like he can see it.
“Of course.” James runs his hands over Steve’s pecs again, feeling the hard muscle, and man he wished they didn’t have the “no fucking clients” rule. He grabs two handfuls of Steve’s pecs, squeezes hard and the blond winces, whimpering a little as he arches again. He moans, probably in despair when James lets him go, and steps away.
For a few moments he doesn’t do anything, just lets Steve writhe a little, hips in a constant roll for friction that he’s not getting. And after almost a full minute or two, James steps forward again to take up the scissors. He runs them up Steve’s thighs, one at a time, in the path that they had shorn the fabric of his briefs. Just a light enough touch to let him know they’re there, that he’s that close to having them off for good and his cock free to touch. James looks up to watch him press his lips together, before he snips part of the elastic on one side, so it’s just barely hanging by a thread.
“Please sir,” Steve whines, though it’s not entirely a whine.
“Please what?” James asks, as he draws the scissor tip across Steve’s lower belly, just above the hem of his briefs.
“Please touch me, or - anything, please. Sir.” He pauses before adding the sir, as if he forgot, and James nods, glancing where the blond’s stiff cock is straining against his underwear, the spot of precome more obvious now, darker.
“Well, that’s not specifically in the contract, though, so,” he shrugs even though Steve can’t see, “guess that’s my decision.” He moves to the other side of Steve’s briefs, and snips the other band of elastic till it too is barely staying together.
Pocketing the scissors, James reaches up to run a finger under the hem of the elastic, just enough where it brushes against the tip of Steve’s cock. The blond groans, low in his throat, and James hums.
“You’re real wet for me Steve,” he muses, moving to run a finger along the sheared edge of fabric, right along the crease of the other man’s thigh. Steve’s only reply is a nod. “Well I guess you’ve earned it,” James sighs as he grabs the scissors for the last time to make the last cuts, and free Steve’s cock.
He’s big, which isn’t a surprise, and the head is almost flushed purple, shiny slick with precome. James circles a finger around it, through the mess that Steve’s made, and raises it.
“Open your mouth,” he says, watching as the blond’s lips part. He slips his finger in and almost immediately Steve’s plush lips close around it and he sucks, which makes James wonder what his mouth would feel like elsewhere. “Taste good?” He asks, pulling his finger out enough to run it along Steve’s lower lip. The blond’s tongue chases it and even with all his experience, and no matter how many times he’s done this, James can’t help but think it’s unbelievably hot.
“Yes sir,” Steve answers, and, satisfied with that, James reaches down to wrap a hand around Steve’s cock. His whole body jerks into the contact, as light as the grip is, and he moans, rolling his head on his shoulders. James starts stroking him slow and steady, grip still light and loose so it’s just on the side of not enough. It draws a desperate, high sound out of Steve, and his whole body pitches forward into James’s touch.
“Easy,” James says, stepping in closer to smooth a hand over Steve’s stomach soothingly. “Take a couple deep breaths for me.” He runs his thumb along the trail of blond hair just above Steve’s groin and looks up at the other man as he inhales, exhales, inhales, and exhales again. Steve’s hands open and close where they’re tied against the metal bar, and he straightens a bit, righting himself.
“Alright?” James asks. He keeps his voice firm, but he wants to know how Steve’s doing.
“Yes sir,” Steve replies with almost as much assurance as James himself has. It’s remarkable.
“Good boy.” James starts stroking the blond’s cock again, a slick slide with all the precome, and tightens his grip a bit more. Steve moans quietly, but keeps himself in check, whole body still as he lets James do what he will. “You want to come?”
“Yes please, sir,” Steve pants it this time, but it’s good, makes James smile. He moves the circle of his fingers over the head of the other man’s cock and thumbs the underside, eyes flicking back and forth from it and Steve’s face. His mouth is open in a lovely O, but he makes no sound.
“Tell me when,” James says in a low voice and he starts jacking Steve in earnest, quick, hard strokes that would get most anyone off. Steve sobs a moan, tosses his head back and balls his hands into fists as James works him up. Getting the pleasure really spiraling up, up, up, until he can feel a tell-tale tightening in his balls.
“I’m going to come,” he manages to moan, and his whole body trembles, testing the strength of the bonds that hold him mostly immobile.
James gives his dick a few more quick strokes, minding the noises Steve makes. And because he’s been through this a thousand and one times, he knows exactly when to stop. He drops his hand and watches Steve’s whole body sag and he lets out another sob, this more desperate than the last. A few more whimpers and heaving breaths fall from his lips as James stands back and lets him get a hold of the situation.
“Changed my mind,” James says as explanation, though he obviously doesn’t need one. Steve’s head hangs a bit as he tries to sort of... comprehend that it’s not going to be that easy, but then again, he probably should have known. That doesn’t make it any easier, however.
He has no reply for James. So instead he focuses on his breathing, his heightened senses because that he can’t see. His the sound of his breathing and his heart are loud in his ears. He can hear the slight creak the wooden plank beneath him gives as the metal pipes move almost imperceptibly. It’s a place he’s never been and this sort of sensory deprivation on top of a sensory overload when James touched him was new to him. Part of him wants the blindfold off, but the other part enjoys the way it makes all the other sensations feel as intense as they are. Again, it’s like nothing he’s ever felt, mentally or physically.
Once more he listens to the sounds of James’s feet on the floor as he moves to, what Steve assumes is the table again, and picks something up. The scrape of it on the tabletop is even loud in the room, and Steve can’t help but hold his breath as James’s footfalls move behind him. Something touches the backs of his thighs. It’s small and and hard, the tip of something. Steve tries to think of the things he saw on the table by the door, but his train of thought is knocked off course when James runs the tip of this new object down the center of Steve’s back, all the way to the crease of his ass.
“Got a guess at what that is, Steve?” James asks, and just as Steve begins to think again, there’s a soft slap, and his ass cheek stings like he’s been pinched.
“Ah - um - no sir.” In the back of his mind he knows, of course. But none of the circuitry from his mouth to his brain seems to be functioning normally.
There’s another soft crack and the sting is on his other ass cheek this time. “It’s a rattan cane,” James says. There’s another crack, this time all along the backs of Steve’s things, just under his rear. It hurts, stings bad. “Since you’ve never done this it might be a little much, but I won’t go too hard. I’ll take you down from there just as soon as I’m done with this, alright?”
“Yes - yes sir. I can take it, sir.”
James smiles, genuinely, and hefts the light weight of the cane in his hand, before bringing it down on Steve’s ass again. The red welt lines bloom beautifully over the blond’s skin. “That’s the spirit.”
Steve cries out the first several times James hits him, because the sting isn’t something that’s easy to get used to and whenever the cane hits an already raw, red spot the hurt is deeper somehow. After a while, his cries turn to soft, close-lipped moans, and the occasional whimper. He can feel himself trembling a little and his thoughts are all blacked out, save for the burning sting of the welts rising on his skin. And the fact that, while it’s flagging, he’s still mostly hard. He’s not sure what that’s supposed to mean, but that’s probably something to analyze later when his head isn’t swimming from the pleasure-pain of all of this.
Neither of them have kept count on how many times James brings the cane down on Steve’s ass, so when he stops Steve isn’t sure if the other man is going to start up again, or is done completely. As he has been doing, he listens close for James’s footsteps, but he stays in place, setting the cane down on the wooden block. Steve feels hands on his ankles, James’s fingers working out the knot that kept his feet in place.
“Did good Steve,” James says, low and almost soothing as his fingers massage over the blond’s ankles. Nodding, Steve takes a few deep breaths, finding that that grounds him during this whole experience more than anything else. James’s voice helps as well, since Steve can’t see him.
“Thank you... sir...” Steve murmurs sluggishly.
James works quickly to untie him, but Steve doesn’t move much until he’s beckoned. James helps him down from the block and pushes away the blindfold, running his fingers through Steve’s sweat-damp hair. “You did really good,” he murmurs, smoothing his hands hands down the blond’s neck, calming him, giving him something else to focus on.
For a few beats, Steve blinks and his eyes, glossy, reel around the room till they settle on James’s face. It takes a few seconds for him to really focus, but when he does, it makes him feel solid. Like he’s been flying and now he’s on solid ground. He sighs at the feeling of James’s hands stroking along his sticky skin, brushing through his hair.
“Still got some time left. Let’s go sit down,” James says, sliding his hand down to grip Steve’s wrist, and almost dumbly, he follows obediently. Part of him feels incredibly vulnerable, being lead around nude by what he considered to be a stranger, but it also adds to the experience. He’s glad he can see now.
Letting go of Steve’s wrist, James sits himself at the chair near the windows, and it’s the only one. He pats his thigh. “Over my lap,” he says, and when Steve hesitates, “Problem?” He raises an eyebrow.
Steve, still a little dazed, is prompted into moving. “No sir. “ He shakes his head and steps towards James. It takes him a little maneuvering, but he bends himself over the other man’s lap, mostly, resting his elbows on the chair’s armrest and hopes it’s alright. James moves him a little, spreads his legs, and that too makes him feel vulnerable, though only slightly.
“You might be feeling this tomorrow,” he says, smoothing a palm over Steve’s ass. That affirms to him what James is going to do and he feels his cock twitch against the other man’s leg. “But use your word if it’s too much after the cane.”
“Yes sir,” Steve says, and he probably shouldn’t, but he holds his breath as he waits for the first fall of a palm against his ass cheek.
“Breath,” James scolds and, with a half smile, Steve hangs his head and inhales deeply.
The first slap is hard. Harder than the force he had been using with the cane, but the sting is somewhat duller. Steve groans, rocking forward a bit because his dick is pressed into James’s thigh and while he’s still not as hard as he was earlier, he knows this contact might do it. James rests an arm across Steve’s lower back and uses that position to bring his other hand down on the blond’s other cheek.
He continues like that for a little while, dealing alternating blows on each of Steve’s ass cheeks, just about as hard as he can. It colors Steve’s skin a deep, angry crimson as blood rushes to the surface in the shape of James’s hand. James tries to keep his job clinical, in a certain sense, don’t get attached etcetera, but there’s something that he just loves about the shape of his fingers imprinted on someone else’s skin.
When he can feel that Steve is a bit harder against his leg, James pauses for a moment, glancing over his shoulder to look at the man’s face. Steve is trying to look over his shoulder, the thick musculature of his shoulders bunching as he holds himself up against the arm of the chair. He seems to be doing alright, though his breathing is coming in harder, so James lays into him again, the sounds of skin meeting skin echoing through the room.
There are times when James pauses, smoothing his hands over Steve's ass, feeling the heated skin under his palms and soothing the burning sting just for a moment before he starts up again. Steve is far past the point of being able to even remotely control the sounds that he makes so that each time bare, hard palm meets the flesh of his ass, Steve whimpers, moans, gives desperate little sobs, or simply gasps and sighs.
After a while, he starts to ache, and knows that what James said about him feeling it the next day was certain now. The hurt is deep and good, and somewhere along the way Steve feels the wet hot sting of tears in his eyes, though he doesn't know if they're from the pain, or how badly he wants to come.
The last time James pauses to caress and even squeeze at Steve's cheeks, the blond drops his head down to rest on the arm of the chair as he draws in deep, ragged breaths.
"Our times almost up," James tells him, and the hot brand that is one of his hands leaves Steve's skin. There's a bit of rustling around, and the popping of a cap--or so Steve guessed. With the one hand he's kept rested on Steve's rear, James pulls him apart gently, exposing him completely. Drawing in a quick, shocked breath, Steve turns to look over his shoulder, as if he could catch a glimpse at what James was preparing to do. Even if he could see it wouldn’t prepare him for the feeling of a lube-slick finger pressing against the furl of his hole.
Again Steve catches himself holding his breath as James simply rubs at his entrance, before even trying to press inside. Dropping his head again, Steve rocks his hips back, his cock dragging wetly along the fabric of James’s slacks and hopes that lets James know that he’s ready for it. James does give a soft laugh and he gives Steve’s ass another quick smack.
“Patience is a virtue,” he says before he slowly starts to push his finger inside. Steve chuckles, but it bleeds into a moan when James pushes deeper. It’s been a while since Steve has done something like this, and he can’t say he’s relaxed quite enough, but James works him open enough so he can work in a second finger. All the while he runs his hand over Steve’s lower back, trying to get the blond to relax as much as possible.
Time seems to draw out in slow circles then, and though it can’t be all that long, it feels like an eternity before James works his other hand under him to wrap his hand around Steve’s cock. It hardly takes much before Steve is close, his whole body trembling with the effort to not completely collapse into James’s lap.
“‘m close,” he whimpers, not really too concerned about the “sir” anymore.
But of course, both of James’s hands still their movement. “What was that?” He asks with a smile in his voice.
“I’m close, sir, please, don’t - don’t stop.” Steve’s voice wavers, and it wouldn’t take much to get him begging, at this point. James’s fingers curl inside of him again, making Steve give a quiet sob and push his hips back.
“Ask me,” James says, his fingers circling tight around the base of the blond’s cock.
“Let me come, sir, please, please let me come I can’t - I - “ Steve’s voice breaks, and he knots a hand in his hair, trying to ground himself on something. But all he can feel is the heartbeat pulse of blood in his dick. “Please, sir, I need to, please - “
“Alright, alright, easy,” James murmurs and his hand starts up quick, hard strokes, much like he had used earlier. Steve keens, back arching into James’s hands, and he feels his orgasm crest, his vision goes a little black at the edges as he comes.
He feels a little numb, afterwards, like he’s floating or... maybe light headed, but either way his limbs feel like jelly. So when James manhandles him out of the chair, Steve goes all too willingly, letting James pull him into his lap. Hazily, Steve realizes there are hands on his face, and he looks up at James who is smiling back at him.
“You did well Steve, you did really well,” he praises, moving one arm to hold Steve tight against him while he keeps the other moving through Steve’s hair.
“Thank you sir,” he sighs, and James laughs.
“Call me Bucky.”