Roger really liked the little ottoman couch in the living room of the apartment he shared with Jack. He liked the comfortably padded top, and the fact that the padding was all around the sides as well. He really appreciated the sturdy wooden feet, as well. Just at the moment, he couldn't remember the color.
It was a comfortable thing to be tied to. The top supported his chest and belly just right, at just the right height. Bent over it as he was, his widely spread knees still had firm contact with the carpeted floor. The padded sides cushioned the impact as his thighs were driven against them again and again. His wrists and knees were tied firmly to the feet; no matter how hard he struggled or pulled, they were firmly planted and not going anywhere.
The blindfold prevented him from seeing the color just at the moment, but the fabric was soft and just textured enough. His stiff little cock was constantly rubbing across the top; there wasn't quite enough friction to hurt, just enough to deliciously stimulate him.
His roommate Jack was raping him again, violently ramming his big cock up Roger's sore asshole as Roger lay gagged and blindfolded across the ottoman. Roger shuddered as the stimulation of his cock and his prostate brought him to a watery orgasm and remembered that Jack was the one who bought the comfortable footrest.
Tied as he was, gagged to prevent him from crying out, there wasn't much for him to do but lay there and take the hard fucking. It wasn't the first time his big, athletic roommate had torn his clothes off, tied him, and forced himself on the smaller, red-headed man. Roger had lost count of the number of times he'd become the "unwilling" receptacle of Jack's lust; this was his sex life, now.
So, he laid tied across the ottoman, reflexively struggling and taking the big, thick cock in his ass. He appreciated the furniture for being a comfortable thing to be tied to and basked in the glow of his own orgasm. Jack could usually fuck him to orgasm during these attacks, sometimes, two. That had been his second, and the usual exhaustion was hitting him.
Jack pounded the smaller man's ass a few more times with deep, powerful strokes, then growled, sank his fingers into Roger's hips, and his cock throbbed pulse after pulse of hot, sticky cum up Roger's guts. His eyes screwed shut in ecstasy as his victim's pliant body milked every last drop out of the depths of him; he slowly thrust a few more times, emptying his nuts completely.
"Fuck," he said, sweat coursing down his muscular body. He bent forward, covering Roger's softer body with his own, and affectionately bit Roger's shoulder. Roger moaned as Jack pulled at the slip knots on Roger's wrists, then slid his hands back and released his knees as well.
Sliding his softening cock out of Roger's gaping fuck hole, Jack shakily stood to his feet and went to get a couple of wet, warm towels. He cleaned himself off thoroughly, then went back to where Roger was still prone across the ottoman and cleaned him as well. He winced looking at Roger's twitching anus, still trying to contract back to something like it's normal state.
There was always the tinge of regret. Every time he threw his self-control to the wind and forced himself on Roger, he felt like he'd gone too far. After he cleaned the smaller man, he lifted free the blindfold and pulled the knotted bandana gag out of his mouth.
"You, uh, ok?" he asked, putting the soiled towels aside.
"Gimme a minute," said Roger. He slowly lifted from the ottoman and crawled to the couch, where he laid on his side. "That one was... you went really hard."
Jack shrugged guiltily. "That's a really good position," he said. "Lots of leverage."
Roger nodded and pulled the comforter down off the back of the couch, covering himself. "I think I'll be ok," he said. "I need six naps."
"After you hydrate," said Jack. He went to get Roger a sports drink from the fridge. "I still think we need to talk about this, some time," he said, breaking the seal on the cap and handing the bottle to Roger.
Roger took the drink and chugged about half of it; he was sweating pretty hard too.
"Look," he said, putting the cap back on the bottle. "I know this is sketchy as hell, and I'm not a hundred percent sure how to process it myself. I used to have a lot of fantasies about you making me suck your dick, and I've kind of been thinking I'm a submissive type... but then you DID make me suck you, and this stuff has just gone on, and... and I don't hate it."
"Yeah, I can kind of tell," said Jack. "I'm gonna have to get the ottoman cleaned... not that I'm complaining. Just glad you're getting off too, I guess."
Roger took another long, thoughtful drink. "Truth of the matter, Jack? You're the only person I've ever had sex with... and I can't imagine anything else getting me off better."
He slowly sat up, wincing as his weight came down on his ass. It wasn't just the tenderness of his anus... Jack's powerful hips slamming into his butt left his cheeks bruised and sore for a while. "You always do this at the beginning of the weekend, so there's plenty of time to recover. You always untie me afterward, and you always try to take care of me when you're done."
He finished the bottle as Jack looked at him, worried and expectant.
"I don't ever want to tell you that this is ok," Roger said. "I never want to say 'yes.' I want to fight and tell you 'no' and then I want you to take what you want anyway. I think that's a big part of how good I get off."
Jack nodded. "Ok. Tell you the truth, I kind of wish you were more experienced... I feel like I'm taking advantage. But you're a big boy and make your own decisions. I've heard you say you want it... that's all I needed."
He sat down next to Roger and took the empty bottle from him. "It's really good for me, too," he said, a little sheepishly. "And I'm not usually like this. Not with any of the girls I've been with... or the boys. I don't know why it feels so much fucking better than usual, but it does."
"So there, we talked," said Roger. "I'll pay to get the ottoman cleaned; my company has a lot of upholstery done, I know a guy. I think I can manage a shower before I take that nap."
"Good call," said Jack. "And thanks."
Roger stood up gingerly and shrugged. "Don't want you feeling bad about it; that's not fair. If it gets to be a problem for me, well, we'll talk again. Ok?"
Jack nodded. "Deal."
And that was it; the big confrontation that Jack had been dreading was more of a relief than anything else. The week went on as weeks do... Jack doing his personal trainer gig at the local gym, and Roger managing collections for the property management company he worked for. The ottoman was taken to a nearby upholstery company, thoroughly cleaned and given some extra sealing treatments.
As the next weekend approached, Jack began to have a nagging worry. He'd heard Roger say he wanted it... was that going to make the urges less intense? To some degree, he was getting off on the feeling of power the "forced" fuck sessions were giving him. In his mind, it wasn't that Roger wouldn't stop him, it was that he couldn't. There was nothing Roger could do, physically, to stop Jack from taking his pleasure from him.
Finally settling that Roger was a willing participant, no matter how he acted, was a little sobering. Jack wasn't sure things would feel the same way... that he would get the rush of power he felt when he took Roger with superior strength and size.
Friday arrived, Roger came home from work, said "hi," and went to take his customary after-work shower. Jack looked over the collection of items he'd gathered for their sessions... handcuffs, rope, bandanas, even some proper ball-gags and leather restraints. Was he feeling it?
Physically, Roger wasn't his "type." There wasn't a sense of attraction to draw Jack emotionally closer. It had all been a sheer desire to rip his pleasure from Roger's resisting, helpless body. Even as he thought about it in those terms, though, Jack's cock began to stiffen. He could barely hear the shower running across the apartment, and could envision Roger's soft, naked body under the coursing water.
Jack shucked off his clothes, grabbed a handful of short lengths of rope, and went to Roger's room.
The athlete's thick cock was throbbing with need as he walked into the steamy bathroom. The doubts were gone... he needed to take the soft fuckmeat in his apartment, and he needed it badly.
Roger was started when Jack yanked open the shower door. "Jack? What the hell? I'll be out in a couple..."
Water and soap in his eyes, it took him a moment to notice that Jack was naked and hard. He saw the ropes in Jack's hand and backed against the tile wall of the shower. Usually, these sessions started after a shower, or early in the morning. This was new... unexpected.
"Jack... no," he said, holding his hands in front of himself defensively. "I don't understand..."
Wordlessly, Jack roughly grasped Roger's hand and looped a rope around it. As Roger yelped, Jack pressed in closer, forcing his hard body against Roger's soft one. Holding Roger's captive wrist by the rope, the larger man roughly pulled Roger's other hand away from his body and bound his wrists together.
"Jack, stop... this is wrong," said Roger, his heart racing. He could feel the real fear... Jack's cock was thick and hard, and every time Roger was forced to take it, there was pain. Part of him was genuinely afraid of being violated... and the other part of him loved it all the more.
"Shut the fuck up," said Jack. With one hand, he lifted Roger's bound wrists over his head. He planted his other hand on Roger's shoulder and forcefully shoved him down to his knees.
