Friday, December 21, 2012

Unwrapped, Part 3

I'm not going to be around a whole lot between the holidays. Too much family. Too many things to do. A novel I must finish editing... argh! Squeezing in a new story might be rough. This story is a year end gift to the wonderful readers and followers who have made my year so amazing.

"Unwrapped" includes m/m sexual acts and BDSM. I wouldn't want anyone to wander into anything they don't want to visit.

Want to read the first two parts of Unwrapped”? [Part 1] and [Part 2].


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My nipples became tiny instruments of torture in Sir’s hands. I could swear he created music just by playing with them, pulling my nibs until they were swollen and long, begging to be sucked. Only he didn’t suck them. Not Sir. I felt an almost too perfect pinch when he placed a nipple clamp onto first one jutting peak and then the other. He tightened the clamps just until I said, “Thank you, Sir,” for giving me the new decorations.

Sir’s hand moved to my face and his thumb traced my lips. “Lovely mouth. Gorgeous eyes. You maybe don’t know this, but in addition to blocking certain receptors on the retina and paralyzing the little muscles around the lens, the drug the good doctor gave you dilates the pupils. The Club’s gifts always look sexually aroused, even when they’re not. But you are sexually aroused, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Sir,” I told him, truthfully. What I was feeling escaped description. Aroused, owned, hung like a bizarre trophy… teetering on some edge and willing to do anything the man wanted.

“Have you been taught how to properly suck a cock?” He moved closer, still holding my face as I inhaled the sharp male musk that was his alone.

Yes, yes… yes! “I have, Sir. Usually I kneel, though.”

“Relax. You’re perfectly positioned to be used.”

He stood over me, all shadows and power and the smell of leather. Even though I couldn’t pull him into focus, Sir filled my sight. His cock’s head brushed my lips with pre-come and silken hot skin and I opened for him. He pushed his pelvis forward and I accommodated his thrust, circling his girth with my lips to shield his cock from my teeth. Every part of me was his to use. 

The top of his cock slid across my tongue, imprisoning it against my jaw and wedging my throat open. The angle was strange to me, new, and I panicked for a moment, but Sir was patient. He let me get used to it, giving me just his tip to suck. Once I had settled and was taking him deeper, he reached up, grabbing something—the ropes, I soon realized—and began to pull me toward him in rhythm with his thrusts. My hair swung against his driving, leather-sheathed thighs.

I had no doubt I was being fucked. Sir’s cock head mastered my tongue, opened a path for the thick shaft that followed. His balls, covered with soft trimmed hair, bounded against my eyes—which I had closed—and nose. I inhaled his scent: clean, virile, and male. His pace quickened and I stretched my throat toward him, opening so he could push deep. God, yes, I could do this! I had practiced, trained… Stewart had used me until I was certain I could deep-throat a donkey. I gave Sir my throat now, swallowing, creating the delicious suction he surely wanted.

He withdrew.

I gasped, not only for air because his balls and groin had been blocking my nose. He hadn’t come. Sir had stepped away… again… and started working with the ropes. I whimpered and licked my lips in hope of capturing traces of his taste.

I didn’t question or resist as Sir rearranged me. No longer tied to my ankles, my wrists reached toward the ceiling and were secured overhead. He also lowered my legs again so my body was once more nearly horizontal and my head slighty raised. Excited by the mouth-fucking, my nipples throbbed within their new clamps and my cock showed signs of revival. A trail of pre-come smeared my belly. Sir was teaching me so much about pleasure… about being helpless.

“You’re a natural for this, aren’t you?” Sir asked with approval. How warm his fingers were, eloquent even, tracing the muscles of my arms and thighs, the less pronounced ridges of my belly. His every touch left another part of me begging to be used. “Swallowing me nearly did the trick. I had to struggle to control myself. I might have indulged us both had I more time.” 

He stood between my legs now. They’d spread apart like before, but I would have spread for him anyway, I wanted him that much. He ran his hands over my thighs and I could do nothing but let pleasure roll through me. 

“You have lovely skin. Pampered. I bet you look spectacular when warmed red by a crop or a cat. Do you?”

My mind tried to fashion an answer. Sir’s presence was enough to push me toward a sensory overdose. I moved, I breathed, I only existed within his web of red ropes, bound somewhere between him and heaven.

“Master Stewart”—I gasped the words “—says I glow—”

“Oh, you do. Glow.” 

I heard sounds I should recognize, but I was too focused on what Sir was saying. My cock plumped even further at the thought of being flogged while hanging like this, spinning before him like some crimson and white human mobile. 

Sir continued to speak. “You should see yourself. Beautiful, really. The perfect toy. But you can’t stay like this forever. Your body wasn’t built for being hung like a decoration, not for hours on end. But it was built for this.”

Sir must have grabbed the ropes again, because he pulled me toward him. Something cool touched my ass and I groaned from the burn, and then with welcome, as he thrust a couple of fingers slicked with lube into me. I’d been stretched for so long I hadn’t completely closed.

“Nice,” he said, as casually as he might praise a glass of fine wine. “Hot, snug, and ready.”

“Oh God, Sir. Oh please.”

“I think you’re looking forward to being fucked.”

My body rocked on the ropes, propelled by his fingers working my ass. I was already in heaven. I had been feeling so empty there. Mewls and pleas mingled on my lips.

“You know what I find most delicious about you? It’s not just that you look like some eastern potentate’s pretty plaything, but you have something rare… the dignity of man who knows what he is.” Sir pushed his fingers deep and leaned his body against mine. His fingers found my prostate and I let loose a cry at the pleasure he sent through my body while his other hand found and tugged one of the nipple clamps. “I didn’t think it possible, given your background. But now I think you really were born for this. Some men are born to fuck, and others are destined to be fucked because they’re weak. But then there are men like you… men who need to be owned because pleasure’s hold on them is too strong. They’re seeking a way to channel all that need.”

His words went straight to my cock. It reared up like a signal flag. Sir chuckled again. He was right about me and he knew it. Being Stewart’s submissive had probably saved me from a string of user jerk boyfriends. That had been my history until he’d taken me in hand.

“Let’s open you up, boy, and see what you’re made of.” 

Sir pulled his fingers from my ass, but his cock took their place. Somehow he had donned a condom first—probably while he was talking or I was dreaming of him—and I felt the cool kiss of lube. His cock pushed at the rim of my hole and then penetrated my body. I barely felt pain at all, just a sweet, unpreventable invasion. Sir's slow, deliberate thrusts as he worked himself into me were the probes of man in full command, taking measure of my responses before deciding how he would proceed.

I was already lost. Sir’s sling of expertly knotted rope encircled my buttocks and held my ass captive to whatever he desired. My eyesight had cleared enough to pick out Sir’s shape against the lights of the tree. He was tall and bare-chested, appeared muscular without being broad. A white man. And he wore a mask. Even if my sight returned, I would never see his face. His arms worked in tandem with his hips, pulling my helpless body toward him with every thrust of his pelvis that reverberated through my captive body. I was being fucked like a slave.

There was nothing left of me now except the part that needed him.

I couldn’t move at all as Sir rode me, cock pounding deep and hard… using my hole for his pleasure. He controlled my body completely and I whimpered every time his cock pushed against my prostate. Pleasure didn’t just jolt through my body, it was a continuous fireworks display reaching a crescendo. Even my unflagging cock swung between us, slapping my body and then his. I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Sir… Sir, please. Too much, too much, please. Oh God, finish me…”

“But you’re liking this. I think you want more.”

“I do. I want it. God, I really need it—”

“Then tell me, toy… tell me what you need.”

“Your cock, Sir. I need your cock! Please… I’ll die if I don’t get more cock!” I was so frustrated I was weeping. So aroused I was in pain. Only Sir could release me from this state.

“God, Carson! How I have dreamed of hearing you say that!” Sir yanked me hard to him and he plunged like a bull, roaring and grunting something about how good I was and how he’d wanted me for so long. 

He pounded me hard until he’d spurted inside me. His cock felt good, so damn good. I loved being fucked, but Stewart had not let anyone fuck me for the whole last year and now I was sobbing with joy.

Sir's hand closed around my engorged, weeping cock and he fisted me, hard and sure, until I came, spilling semen onto the ropes, his hand, and my belly.

“Thank you, Sir. Thank you… thank you…”

I might have passed out then from pleasure or stress. I don’t remember much beyond a delicious sense of floating. My body was bound to the world by rope, but none of it felt particularly real. Except for my softening cock and Sir’s. Even though the air was cool, sweat trickled across my skin and pooled under the ropes.

The bondage had ceased to be comfortable. Gravity and exhaustion coupled with the bite of rope and the fact that nothing about suspension was natural for a human body. Sir pulled out of me and cleaned himself first, then lowered the hoist until I again was upon the ground. He made surprisingly short work of untying the ropes, leaving only those about my wrists. He then pulled me up onto his lap and held me, holding my head to his chest and kissing my hair. When he removed the nipple clamps, I winced.

“You bore that so well. You were wonderful,” he said. “My perfect Christmas gift.”

“Thank you, Sir.” My lips moved against his chest and I smiled. I could tell I had pleased him. That was what mattered most. I had pleased him. Sir had fucked me exactly as he had wanted to fuck me; he had indulged his fetish with crimson cords, dangled me from his ceiling, and made me into his toy for a night. And he had come so hard in my ass I think he might have ignited the skyrockets exploding through my body and head.

“I’m afraid that’s it for me for tonight.” He sounded regretful. His hand petting my hair held me silent. I was no longer bound but for the ropes dangling, untied to anything else, from my wrists. I wondered if he had left them as a kind of lingering claim. For that reason, I cherished them already.

I hoped he would remove his mask, but he didn’t. He had bought gifts before, I reasoned. He knew I would soon be able to make out the details of my surroundings. Already I saw that the room had windows with a dazzling view of the city. Beyond a large, fully decorated tree, the skyline flowed in bold blazes of white. Shapes announced themselves as couches, probably leather… tables… carpets that looked vaguely Oriental and were likely antique. And Sir.

He wore leather pants with an open crotch and a black half-mask that hid most of his face. Blue eyes looked down into mine. His mouth twitched. Perhaps he recognized that I could see him.

“Time to go,” he said. He brushed the hair back from my face and pressed a kiss to my forehead. I wanted more, to know who he was… to ask if we could pursue this further. But my agreement with the Club included no such provisions.

I had signed on to be a gift, a toy. Something to be played with only for one night. 

“You were perfect, too, for me,” I blurted. A toy wasn’t supposed to pass judgment, even if positive, on a master.  

Instead of getting angry, he smiled. “We may meet again.”

Sir eased me from his lap and rose. He left the lights of the tree and skyline-filled windows and disappeared into another part of the apartment. I sat desolate beside the festive tree and stared at the tangle of scarlet rope on the floor below the dangling hoist from which I had hung. This was Sir’s domain, but I had not been invited to stay.

Stewart appeared minutes later. I could not quite bring him into focus, but I knew him by his shape alone and the tread of his footsteps.

“You did well, Carson,” he said. He meant to encourage, but the words did nothing to fill the hollowness I felt. He helped me up, wrapped a coat around me once more, and put slippers on my feet. When he sought to untie the red ropes from my wrists, I stopped him.

“I would like to keep them, if Sir will allow it.” I felt blood warming my cheeks, then added. “They’re his.”

After a pause, Stewart nodded. “I think he left them for that reason. I’m glad it was good for you.”

I couldn’t tell him how good. It had been my choice to present myself as a gift. I had accepted the terms. I didn't want the night to be over, but for me it was. It had been everything I had hoped for... and more. A night of perfection, and now the rest of my life would never be the same.

Christmas dawn glittered at our backs as together we walked to the elevator and the limo that would take us back to the Club. 


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Thank you for reading my little holiday story. It has to end here, but I can see eventually writing more. Who knows? Carson and Sir may have opened up a Pandora's box! :D 

photo credit: <a href="">jessibot</a> via <a href="">photopin</a> <a href="">cc</a>

UNWRAPPED © 2012 by Tali Spencer. No reproduction without permission.


  1. I would love to read more about Carson and Sir. They sound destined to be together.

    1. I think you're right. I might just have to continue their story. Maybe I can turn it into a Christmas book for 2013. Thanks for reading, Cliffgirl. :D

  2. Loved it! And I definitely want more from your two protags... We'll just have to hound you! -Shira

    1. Hound away. Hounding helps. :) It inspires me if I know people enjoy a pairing or concept. You know me, I've already figured out who Sir is and how he and Carson will get together. ;)

  3. Loved it. I so wanted Sir and Carson to end up together. If you're counting, I vote to continue it someday.

    1. Hey, Mika! Happy Holidays! I want them to end up together, too. It made sense, though, that one night together is a bit rushed for a HEA. But as a longer story... oh, yeah. :)

  4. Loved it, and I definitely want to know what comes next for Sir and Carson.
    There was a small continuity flaw: it is noted that Sir put on a condom, but at the end of the scene his semen is dripping from Carson, suggesting he did not wear one.

    Happy Holidays and thank you for sharing your work!

    1. Good catch! I'll fix that. :) Thanks for reading and have a wonderful holiday!

  5. I'd also love a continuance of the story. This was wonderful. Have fun with your family and enjoy the holidays.

  6. Loved this story! I'm so glad we get more...even if I have to wait for it.

    1. Thanks, Lexi! So glad to hear you want more. Have a great holiday. :)