The Sweet Side Of The Ropes: Enthralling Tales Of Male-Male Romance (2 page)

John unsnapped the clips on the case, “If you would be so kind as to get down on your knees, Jack?” He popped open the lid.

This is definitely shaping up to be the most bizarre sales pitch in history,
Jack thought as he lowered himself to the floor on his knees. From his new perspective, he got a mouthwatering view of John's oversized cock and furry balls, and curve of his delectable ass. Bizarre or not, the scenery was definitely worth the trip to the floor.

John removed a simple length of leather from the case. In the center of the leather strip was a small, dark brown ball.

"Um, I've got ball gags already.” Jack nodded toward the display against the back wall. “Right over there, between the crops and the feather ticklers."

"Not like this one.” John smiled, fitting the leather around Jack's head. “Open wide, please."

"But..."

"Open!” There was a tone of command in John's voice that sent a delicious ripple through Jack's balls.

Against his better judgment, Jack's mouth popped open. Wide.

John wedged the ball between Jack's teeth. Instantly, Jack's mouth filled with the flavor of rich, dark chocolate. Unable to swallow because of the ball lodged between his teeth, Jack drooled.

How attractive.

"See? It's flavored. This is one is our Swiss Dark Chocolate model. It also comes in Milk Chocolate, Strawberry, Watermelon, Kiwi, and Cheesecake."

Jack heard the clink of metal, and felt John's warm hands at his ankles. Before he could blink, John had Jack's feet bound, and was pulling Jack's arms behind his back. He went down on his belly as cold metal snapped around his wrists.

'Mmmf ... mmm ... mfff?” Jack's eyes widened. His inner voice had a million questions, all of which seemed to be variations of “
What are you doing?"
But the ball between his teeth disallowed articulation beyond a muffled, rather wet, grunting noise.

"Tsk, tsk. No speaking unless spoken to, Jack.” John wiggled a finger in front of Jack's face. “Don't interrupt my sales pitch again or I'll be forced to punish you."

Jack took issue when John roughly yanked at his hips, pulling him up into a kneeling position with his forehead resting on the floor, but being trussed up like a turkey took most of the vinegar out of his protests.

"Mmff, mmm!” Jack tried to shake his head, but his position made even that form of communication nearly impossible. This was taking the term
captive audience
way too far.

Jack's eyes bugged out of his head and he yelped when the flat of John's hand slapped his ass. More than his flesh, it stung his pride. He hadn't been spanked since he was a kid.

Funny thing was, it felt sort of good, too. The stinging was accompanied by a tingling of sorts, thrumming in his balls. His cock bobbed its head in agreement.

The ball gag stifled his cry of surprise, but not the lower, throaty groan of pleasure that followed it.

"Now, as I was saying, our
Tasty Balls
are the perfect sex aids. One size fits all. They're expertly made of strong, hand-tooled leather and foam rubber. And the flavor is guaranteed to last through up to six months of casual use.” John's studied, salesman drone would ordinarily have lulled Jack to sleep had it not been for the fact that he had a hard-on of epic proportions virtually screaming for release, which precluded naps of any kind. “Of course, flavor restorer kits are available, which can extend the lifetime of your
Tasty Ball
indefinitely."

Honestly, Jack couldn't care less if the gags were made by Elves and flavored by the Easter Bunny. He wanted more of John's hand on his body. Frowning, he grunted behind the ball gag again, and shook his butt for good measure.

Smack!

Oh, sweet Christ on toast!
John's hand landed a little lower on Jack's cheeks than the last time, precariously near Jack's balls. The resulting sting zapped through Jack's balls directly to his cock. It lengthened and filled, aching sweetly. He wanted to stroke himself, but having his hands cuffed behind his back made that impossible. Houdini, Jack wasn't. He whined behind the ball gag, shooting John a mournful look over his shoulder.

"You really must learn to have a bit of patience, Jack. Now, I want you to take a moment to appreciate the fine, smooth texture of the ball. Not too soft, not too hard. It's flexible enough to sink your teeth into, but not so much so that you can take a bite out of it and possibly choke. Plus, it really does make for a pretty picture. Why, look at what you're doing to me, Jack."

Jack watched John wrap his hand around that thick piece of meat hanging between his legs, slowly fisting himself. Watching him was torture. Jack wanted that hand on
him
, wanted to put
his
hands on John. Stymied by both the ball gag and the cuffs and chain that bound him, Jack growled low in his throat.

"See what a difference our
Tasty Balls
make over the usual rubbery-tasting ball gags? Who would want something that tastes like old tires in their mouth, when they can have chocolate or strawberry, instead?” John stroked his hard-on. It was at full power now, grown ramrod straight before Jack's eyes.

Jack bared his teeth around the ball, his growl intensifying.

"Exactly! Now, suggested retail price on these lovelies is $24.99. Your cost is a mere $15.00 per piece, two dozen minimum.” John grinned. His hand worked his cock expertly in long, languid strokes.

Smiling. John was
smiling
, while Jack was sporting a hard-on that could split logs.
Get down here. Put those lips to better use than reciting a stupid sales pitch. Suck me, dammit!
Jack thought, while biting into the ball. More decadent chocolate flavoring filled his mouth, causing his drooling to intensify. A line of wetness snaked down across his chest, pooling under his chin. He undulated like a beached trout, hands and feet jangling the chains, frustrated that he couldn't get the words out around the gag.

John arched an eyebrow. “You're being a bad boy, Jack. Haven't you learned your lesson yet? If you keep interrupting me, we'll be here all day."

Jack yelped behind his gag when John delivered a series of several sharp blows to Jack's butt. “Your ass is turning the same color as our Cherry flavored
Tasty Balls
, Jack."

Jack moaned again, his cock twitching pitifully underneath him. The tip felt swollen and was probably already purple with, glistening drops of precum.
All day?
If John swatted his bottom just a few more times, Jack figured wouldn't last but a few more seconds.

He'd never felt as helpless as he did then—unable to talk, to ask for what he needed, unable to take care of the problem himself. Totally and completely dependent on the whim of a man he'd just met, a man who probably hadn't even given Jack his real name.
John Smith. Ri-ight.

Jack had also never been quite as turned on as he was at the moment. His cock felt like iron, his balls swollen and hard against his thighs. Chances were good that a year ago, when Jack had had a normal sex life, John would never have been able to get Jack to this point so quickly. But after more than three hundred and sixty five days of celibacy aside from close encounters with his own hand, Jack was more than ready to shoot off like a high-pressure fire hose.

John had walked around to face Jack, and pulled Jack up to his knees. Eyelevel with Jack was John's heavy cock, long, thick, and looking every bit as ready as Jack's own. The smooth rounded head was reddened and wet with the evidence of John's desire. He could smell the musky scent of it, the maleness of it. Jack swore silently, desperately wanting to taste John's flavor instead of the chocolate ball gag.

Jack closed his eyes and groaned as John's cock traced his cheek, leaving a streak of wetness along his jaw. His moan sounded suspiciously like a purr behind the ball of the gag as he rubbed his face against the heated skin of John's erection.

"That's a good boy."

For some unfathomable reason, John's little compliment made Jack blush and feel inordinately proud of himself, as if he'd mastered a difficult skill.

"You deserve a reward, I suppose. After all, you did allow me to make my sales pitch and demonstrate my product. Lie down, Jack, on your back."

Eagerly, albeit a little awkwardly, Jack fell to his side and rolled onto his back. It wasn't as easy a maneuver as he would have thought since his hands were still bound behind his back. His breath hitched in his chest when John lowered himself to the floor, spreading Jack's bent knees wide, feet held immobile by the cuffs at his ankles. “Shall I make you come, Jack? Have you been a good enough boy for that?"

Jack nodded vigorously, whimpering behind the gag. His hips lifted toward John, pumping his cock into the air.
Please. Touch me. Give me just a little lick. Hell, just
breathing
on the fucker will be enough. Do something,
anything
for pity's sake!

John crawled forward between Jack's spread knees, aligning their cocks. Velvety foreskin rubbed against Jack's erection in a long, blisteringly hot stroke. Precum slicked their organs as John slid against Jack's flesh. Once. Twice. Three times’ the charm.

Jack came hard, biting deeply into the ball as his hips thrust against the hard length of John's cock. A guttural cry tore from his throat, the ball gag doing little to suppress the volume as he screamed his release. Jack's head snapped from side to side, the tendons in his necks bulging like steel cables. His climax seemed to go on forever, every muscle in his body contracting with its power.

Only after he'd ridden the monster to its end, lying boneless and sated and still drooling chocolate spittle, did Jack realize that at some point during his record-breaking orgasm, John had joined him.

John was smiling as he removed the cuffs and ball gag from Jack, freeing him. He had good reason to smile, Jack thought. He'd just put in a helluva performance—a sales pitch for the ages.

Jack wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I'll take four dozen,” he managed to rasp, returning John's smile.

The room snapped to attention as the general, polished eagles winking in the overhead lighting, walked in. Armed guards stood sentry at the door, expressions hard and cold, weapons gleaming darkly at their sides.

Small blue eyes scanned the bank of video cams as he accepted a clipboard proffered by one of the men. A quick inspection of the data confirmed what he already knew—the experiment looked to be at least a partial success. Weesaw, Florida had been a perfect choice of location. Secluded, low population, water derived from a community well, it had fit the criteria to a tee. The real challenge had been in installing the surveillance equipment.

Darting back to the video screens, his eyes alit on camera 157. A small, neat white label under the monitor read,
Sensuous Shopper, Subject 709, Repellant.

"I take it that there's a problem with the repellant?” His voice was gruff, used to be immediately obeyed.

"Not really a problem, sir. The repellant lasted nearly one year to the day, but as you can see, it's apparently worn off.” The speaker was a bespectacled man in his forties, balding, dressed in a white lab coat. His nametag read
Miller, William. “
However, during that period it was completely effective. No one wanted anything to do with Subject 709 sexually. The subject seemed frustrated, but not enough so to do anything other than masturbate."

"Maybe we should try something other than injecting it into his laundry detergent. Maybe it needs to be taken internally, like Lot 889.” Lot 889, cheekily dubbed
Screw Brew
by the team overseeing the project, was the most potent aphrodisiac known to man. They'd found that it was most effective when dispensed through the town's water supply. Lot 890, on the other hand, administered to one Mr. Jack McGill, acted as both a repellent and an immunization against the effects of Lot 889.

"That's the next step in our protocol, General."

"It's imperative that we nail down the most effective way to administer the repellent. We want our enemies banging each other on the battlefield, not our troops."

"Yes sir. Understood."

"Is that Captain Smith?” He squinted at the small screen. “I almost didn't recognize him out of uniform."

"Yes, sir. He did a commendable job, completely believable in his role as a salesman."

"His father was a door-to-door salesman. I'll keep your recommendation in mind when his evaluation comes due.” His eyes swept briefly across the other screens, wincing at Cam 320, which showed an obese man with a large, hairy mole doing obscene things with an older woman and a life-sized male mannequin. He shuddered, handing the clipboard back to Miller. “Keep me updated."

"Yes, sir."

The general took his leave, followed by his entourage. In a much better mood than when he'd arrived, he almost smiled. He'd have good news to report at his meeting at the Pentagon that afternoon. The experiment in Weesaw was shaping up to be a success, and the Brass would have their new chemical weapon.

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"Are you
sure
you want to go through with this? It's not necessary, you know. We can just forget about the whole thing.” Jules’ fingers drummed a nervous beat on the table. He looked jumpy, skittish.

"I'm positive. We've discussed this before, Julian.” I used his full name just so he'd know I was being serious. “At some length, as I recall."

"I know, it's just that—"

"Just what?"

"It can be difficult, Devin. Frightening. With your claustrophobia, I'm afraid that—"

"If it gets to be too much for me, I'll tell you. I
want
this experience, Jules. If I'm going to write about a vision-challenged character, then I need to know how he feels, how he perceives the world, how his other senses come into play."

"You can just interview me. I'll tell you everything you need to know.” Jules light gray eyes rested at a point somewhere just above my right shoulder. Jules had the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen, although I'd never tell him that. He was sensitive about his eyes, and besides, we didn't do the sickly-sweet compliment thing. The most I'd ever said was, “I like your eyes.” They were intense, though, and striking. Pale gray, with a thin, darker band circling the iris, framed by thick black lashes, they were as startling as they were captivating.