Turnabout

A standalone story, but it follows Part 1, Loving Bonds. Thanks for your attention.

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"Today, lover," I whispered into his ear. "Today, it's my turn." I nibbled his earlobe with sharp, white teeth. He shifted in his sleep.

Reaching over his side, I grasped his morning wood and started rubbing a fingertip under its head. He came slowly awake.

It was just after 10. I had been up for some time, preparing.

He rolled over onto his back and smiled. My heart fluttered; I felt the smile all the way down to my toes.

Damn, but he was good-looking!

I gave him a few rapid pumps, with what I hoped was my most brilliant smile.

"Go pee," I told him. "I expect you back here in two minutes."

"Shower?"

"Later," I said. "Today is my revenge for yesterday and I own your sweet ass. Get moving."

While he was gone, I tidied up the bed a little and brought a tray in from the kitchen, placing it beside the bed on the side table. Returning, he glanced at it. I shook my finger at him and wordlessly pointed at the bed.

As soon as he lay down, I swung my leg over him, trapping his arms. I reached for the tray and moved it to beside us on the bed.

"Breakfast," I announced. "A good day begins with a good breakfast." I pulled a grape from the bunch with my teeth, then leaned towards him so that he could take it from my lips. He extended taking it into a lingering, soft kiss, then chewed slowly and swallowed.

So much love in our life! I felt so blessed.

And excited. Don't overlook excited.

I held up a fresh croissant (OK, a day old, but not bad for a small town in French Polynesia), broke off a piece, buttered it in front of him and put it to his lips. He again chewed appreciatively and swallowed.

A piece of fresh papaya followed, then a sip of black coffee, extra dark the way he liked it.

Piece by piece, sip by sip, I fed him his breakfast at the same time as I ate my own, pausing on occasion to lick a crumb or drop of juice from his chest. Both of us were starkers, nudity being our norm at the villa.

I let him sip the last of the coffee, then rose off him. "Stand up," I said.

He rose and stood, hands at his side.

No time like the present,

I thought and, without further ado, put leather cuffs on his ankles and wrists and clipped his hands behind him. Coming back around from behind him, I saw he was smiling.

The smile fell a little when I produced something new, a small leather collar fastened to a fine leash of braided leather. Bending, I snapped the collar around his scrotum. He started to speak, but I hushed him with a finger to his lips.

Taking the leash, I led him down to the bay and walked him ankle-deep through the perfectly clear water around the promontory. He followed silently on his tether. We both scanned the ocean from time to time. Whales sometimes come by on the ocean side and whales are good luck.

While the villagers rarely fished this area, the possibility of a boat passing by was still very real. Just the thought of it had me smiling. I wouldn't have dodged, and leashed the way he was, he would've had no say in the matter. The sun was warm on our skins and the breezes tender on places most people never get to feel a breeze.

Eventually, I led him back to the two palm trees where he had so brilliantly, patiently, lovingly tormented me the day before. I unclipped his hands and passed the paracord already tied to the tree trunks through the cleats on the back of his cuffs. I secured him in a classic 'X' position, arms stretched out high. I nudged his feet apart, far enough that his leg muscles were just straining, and snugged up the two bottom lines to keep them spread. I took the end of the leash and held it in front of his mouth. He grasped it in his teeth and I stroked his cheek with my hand.

The sun was well up, but he was still in the shade, facing the sun-splashed surf 40 paces away.

I reached down, removed the leash and gently stretched his scrotum downwards, his now semiflacid cock resting on the back of my wrist. We both smiled. It was to be a fun day. He'd bought the platinum ticket, complete with back-stage pass, and I was to be band, conductor and tour guide all in one.

Stepping back, I admired his spread-eagled form. While not a gym-rat, he kept himself in nice shape and I admired his crisp-cut muscles, especially his abs and buttocks. With curly brown hair and a full beard, he looked like a captured demigod from some ancient Greek myth.

I went back to the villa and up the three steps to inside. I returned with a large bowl, a pitcher of hot water and some toiletries, including some ivory-coloured strips which I laid out in a patch of warm morning sun. He eyed the last curiously and I smiled to myself. Men think they know everything.

After removing the leash and lathering up the washcloth, I proceeded to slowly wash and rinse his entire body, head to foot. Done properly, bathing your partner can be as erotic as sex. and his manhood stiffened to salute the passing clouds.

I spread shaving cream across his cheeks and throat with my fingers, making sensuous swirls with my fingertips, then slowly shaved my man around his beard, wiping off the leftover lather with the washcloth when I had finished. I tossed the soapy water into a nearby bush and refilled the bowl from the pitcher. Returning, I slowly ran my fingers over his smooth cheeks, kissed him lightly and stood back.

He was not a hairy man; even his chest was almost smooth - not that that detracted in any way from his masculinity. Furry is for bears, in my opinion. In any case, his lack of body hair was about to make my task much easier.

I sat down on a nearby bench, facing him, legs crossed. He watched my eyes roam over his body.

I got up, strolled over, and ran a fingertip along the underside of his old man.

"Not bad," I remarked. "Not bad at all."

He smiled.

"But," I pouted, "not quite perfect."

His eyebrows rose in question.

I walked slowly around him. Yesterday, he'd blindfolded me to heighten the sensations. Today, no blindfold. Like most men, he was a visual creature and I knew that being able to see would boost his excitement.

Walking around him, I trailed my fingertips over his muscles. From behind, I reached between his outspread thighs and fondled his heavy sex. I weighed his pendulous ball-sack, bouncing lightly it in my hand. I could sense his cock twitch in response and wondered for the thousandth time how men do that. I walked around to his front and, guiding my breasts with my hands, slowly rubbed my nipples against his; I felt him breathe deeply with excitement. His cock brushed between my legs.

"There is one thing we could try," I said. I picked up the can of shaving cream again.

"Wait!" he said. "I like the beard."

"So do I," I replied, then shaking the can.

His eyes grew wide with realization. "Not a chance!" he said.

"What are the rules?" I asked. "No blood, no scarring, no burns, right? Nothing in that about some creative aesthetic improvements."

"No way!" he croaked.

"Chickening out?" I asked. "Dropping a safe-word?"

He sagged where he stood. So did his cock. I smiled to myself, knowing that

that

wouldn't last.

Putting the shaving cream down for a moment, I selected a battery-powered beard trimmer and carefully proceeded to trim his pubic hair as close to the skin as I could. The trimmer buzzed in my hand and I held the handle against the head of his member for a moment. His eyes closed tight.

Finished with the trimmer, I slowly smeared lather above and around his manhood. His cock stiffened and I smiled.

"Hold still," I suggested, "or this could end badly."

Shaving the once-hairy triangle on his abdomen was easy enough, but to be honest, I was a bit nervous about his dangly bits. There was little chance of him losing anything serious, but even a nick would break the mood.

I had second thoughts and paused. Maybe this

was

the time for a blindfold. I went into the villa, found it and returned to put it on him. Checking, I thought I could see him trying to peek out of the bottom and adjusted it.

I knelt back down in front of him. He shifted his footing and his manhood swayed in front of my face. I snapped the underside of his cock-head with my middle finger. "I never fuck sopranos," I hissed. "Hold still!"

Oddly, with his wedding tackle in my one hand and a razor in the other, I was pretty confident he'd cooperate.

Where to start on such a fragile and oddly-shaped piece of anatomy? His hard manhood made the base of his hardness look easiest and I started there, gently stroking with the razor. After the first stroke, I pulled it away and looked at it. There was enough hair in the lather to assure me I was on-track, so I bent back to the task - as it were - at hand.

From there, I pulled the Boys up against his rigid cock and repeated the process on the back. Then the sides, then the front.

I squeezed gently so that one ball bulged in its fleshy bag. A few long hairs were visible, so I lathered up the area, again taking care to rub the in lather with my fingertips, then cleared away the foliage.

Blindfolded, each touch of steel near my man's pride must have been both frightening and lust-building.

Excellent!

I dipped the washcloth into the hot water and let it cool for a moment before wiping his groin clear of leftover lather. Balls and cock were clear and as smooth as they would ever be.

It has never ceased to amaze me how men can live with their genitals always flapping round unprotected like that. It just seems so, how to put it... exposed. Well,

vive la difference.

Pussy is nice, but I prefer something more at night.

His armpits and small patch of chest hair took but two minutes after that.

"Pretty good," I announced, removing the blindfold. He stared down at his new bareness, not having seen himself like that since he was a little boy.

I reached down and gave him three or four quick pumps with my right hand, then ran my thumb over the swollen head.

"And almost done," I finished. His eyes looked to mine, then at his protruding nakedness, then back up to mine again, his question obvious but unstated.

I went over to the now warm and soft waxing strips lying in the sun, picked one up and walked around behind him. Folding one it lengthwise, I pushed it up between his buttocks, pressing it in against the skin on his thighs and perineum. Realizing at last what it was, his head flipped around over his shoulder.

"Hey!" he shouted.

"Don't be such a baby," I said. "You're learning what women go through every week."

I knelt in front of him and started a slow blowjob, running my hands over his body as I did so. One of them strayed between his legs and grasped the far end of the wax strip. Without warning, I took my mouth off of him and pulled the strip off. He yelped, his body shaking in his bonds. His cock, still hard, flapped in front of my eyes. Leaning forward, I gave it a quick kiss on its head.

"Bloody hell!" he said. "That hurt!"

"You'll live, dear," I replied. "And just think how streamlined you look now."

He was silent, staring down at his now-rampant bareness.

I finished the wax job, getting no more enthusiasm than before.

Finished, I stood up. He watched me fill my right palm with goo.

"You've been a good boy," I said, "and deserve to be rewarded. Let's see if we can make it all feel better."

He eyed the goo. "What's that?"

"Extra Strength Icy Hot," I smiled. His face fell as I reached forward and cupped his scrotum in my hand. The cool goo flowed out on all sides. He started yelping as I rubbed it over his inner thighs, the base of his penis and back towards his anus.

"No! noNoNO!" His body was twisting and thrashing. "Get it off! Wipe it off! You'll kill me!"

I stood in front of him, slathering the goo up his shaft towards the purple head, grinning as his frantic protests died out. The anticipated blast of pain had not appeared.

"I lied," I grinned. "Just lube." I continued to stroke. The look on his face was precious.

He was about to say something when I held up the ball gag in front of his face. I put my finger on his lips and said, "All's fair in love and war, dear. One word - just one word..." I watched him consider his options. His mouth snapped shut, his lips thin. A moment later, he grinned too.

"OK," he admitted. "Good one."

"Yep," I replied. "Pretty good look on your face, too. I'll show it to you later."

"Show it to me?"

Not answering, I merely pointed to a tripod-mounted camera, little red light glowing, which I'd set up when I had blindfolded him. "You didn't!" he groaned.

"Oh, yes," I smiled. "I think you'll enjoy watching it as much as I'm enjoying this." I paused. "Actually, I hope you're enjoying it now, too?"

"Well, it's not quite what I'd expected."

"How boring life would be if it was always that way," I said.

He smiled. "True. I'm feeling the breeze in a whole new way."

I took the washcloth, dipped it into the cooling water, lathered up with the soap and cleaned off the lube. The sun was moving and his legs and erect manhood were now moving into bright sunlight. Picking up the tube of sunblock, I followed his example from the day before and carefully coated his exposed skin with it. I took my time in the expected places; he smiled happily as I slowly coated his rigid cock.

I left him, went into the villa and emerged carefully carrying a small cooler. Opening it so he couldn't see its contents, I pulled out a glass of ice, complete with lime wedge, and a bottle of Perrier.

"Wouldn't do to let you get dehydrated," I said. He took a large gulp of the soda and nodded his thanks. I put them back into the cooler and pushed it aside.

Reaching into the first bag, I pulled out two objects, the eagle feather he had used on me so well the day before and a butt plug. Unlike the almost dainty plug he had used on me, this one was solid, squat, black and menacing. Not enormous by any means, but substantial. He sucked in his breath at the sight.

I held one in each hand, balancing them as if trying to decide. His eyes watched each rise and fall.

My head tilted to one shoulder. "Got a choice?" I asked, looking him in the eyes.

He said nothing, knowing that whatever he replied, there was a good chance of my choosing the other just for caprice.

"OK, then," I announced. "Since you won't decide, both."

I held the butt plug up before his eyes and let him watch me smear lube on it. A pinecone shape head narrowed sharply then flared out again to keep it from sliding inside. It was cast with a ring at the end for ease of removal. The ring also allowed it to be easily rotated once in place and the narrower neck featured prominent ribs to stimulate sensitive anal nerve endings as it was turned. It had come in the post a fortnight before, but this was the first time he had known of it. He stared at it silently, like a bird frozen by the sight of an approaching serpent.

I reached between his legs and spread lube on his after passage. He wiggled a bit, tried to close them, but the bonds held his feet well apart.

Kneeling behind him, I heard him hiss as I slowly pushed and wiggled the plug into him. The back of the pinecone being quite steep and it popped in the last half inch without pressure.

I let him rest a moment and then turned the ring so that the plug twisted inside him. He rose to his toes, subsided. His eyes were closed as he tried to adjust to his distended anus. Perfect.

Payback's a bitch,

I thought.

I took the feather and pondered my next step. Well, the basics would do. I put the edge at the base of his cock and slowly brushed it forward, off the tip. His eyes popped open.

"Hello, lover!" I said, holding it up. "Remember this?"

I spent the next 15 minutes slowly stroking and ticking his cock and balls with the feather. Soft, gentle strokes followed one after the other. The veins on his manhood were now prominent with the blood pumping into his organ. The soft tube on the bottom of his rigid shaft bulged out. From time to time, I switched to his nipples, announcing each new target with a partial turn of the black dildo buried in his butt. Each time I turned it, he rose on his tiptoes. The ribs were obviously doing the job.

The continual gentle stroking had left him very close to cumming. His eyes were screwed shut, his breath ragged and rapid. Time to slow things down.

I paused for a minute and gave him another gulp of Perrier and then, without warning, wedged the ball gag into his mouth and buckled its straps around his head. He hadn't expected this and his eyes popped open, staring at mine in surprise.

I put away the feather, then lubed up his cock. I selected a rubber cock ring from the bag, held it up before his eyes and then worked it down over his phallus to the shaven base, his greased flesh sliding underneath it, then emerging behind as it was forced over his rigid flesh. His swollen member bulged even more from the blood trapped inside. A drop of pre-cum glistened in the sunlight.

I lightly rubbed the pre-cum over the head of his organ with a fingertip. He moaned quietly, almost over the brink. His thighs began to quiver. He held his breath. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the arrival of the release of orgasm.

I held his Boys with one hand and with the other reached into the cooler beside his foot. Swiftly and without warning, I wrapped a bag of frozen peas around the swollen balls and cock just inches from my face.

He jerked, screamed briefly into the gag and tried frantically to pull himself away from the frigid cock-coffin, but, grinning up at him, I kept it tight around his organs.

Without the cock ring, that beautiful organ would have withered. As it was, while the ring kept him erect, orgasm was instantly out of the question.

He roared behind the gag, lunged at the lines holding him in place. I waited for the timed grunts of his safe-word but they didn't come. I dropped the peas.

I took his head with my hand and aimed it at the watching camera. "Smile for the birdie," I whispered. His eyes glared at me. His every noise, every gesture, was being recorded in high definition.

I smiled for the camera.

We'll be watching this one for years to come,

I thought to myself - such fun!

I reached down and eased off the cock ring. His cock was still rigid, but quite cold. I went inside and returned with a warm, wet washcloth. I wrapped it around his chilled manhood.

He mumbled in appreciation, his eyes closed. I had something to wake him up.

I ran it down his nose to get his attention and then held it up in front of his eyes. He blinked, shaking his head to focus. I waited for his safe-word grunt, but he hung in and I was free to continue.

The little cat was one I had made myself out of leather boot laces. The lashes were only about six or seven inches long and still rather stiff. A further length of boot lace was wrapped tightly around them, forming a slim but stiff handle. I had tried it on my inner thigh; small as it was, it could sting quite a bit if swung with force. As I intended it for one special target, I would however have to wield it much more gently if I didn't want to ruin the moment.

His manhood twitched as I ran it up along the bottom of his shaft, bounced as its tip fell off the ends of the lashes. Using just my wrist muscles, I slapped backhanded it at the head. His dick bounced up and down and he moaned through the gag. I liked the artistic effect, but suspected he might not be so appreciative.

Too bad - this was all about me right now.

I laid another dozen on his penis from all directions, staying clear of his fragile, hanging sack, then pulled his face to within inches of mine. Grey eyes stared at me. I kissed his cheek.