Randy for Submission, Pursuing the One, Chapter 17: Tied and Teased

Chapter 17: Tied and Teased

© Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica

All acts portrayed in this chapter are consensual

Randy dragged the frame into the middle of the living room, boots planted wide, shoulders burning with the effort. The thing had weight. Even on the rug, even with him leaning his whole body into it, it scraped along the floor with a deep metal groan. That heaviness was part of the reason he bought it. He didn’t want a flimsy piece of gear that folded up like a camping chair. He wanted something that could hold a grown man no matter how much he strained. Something permanent.

He stepped back, wiped his palms on his sweats, and looked at it. Freestanding, powder-coated steel, leather cuffs dangling loose. At first glance it looked almost clinical, like a piece of rehab equipment left behind in a hospital ward. But Randy knew what it was for. Built a bit like a bench, the boy would be slung over the contraption face down, ankles locked apart in their own adjustable restraints. Wrists were pulled forward into similar, accommodating contraptions until the shoulders stretched, as desired. A curved brace rested on a vertical bar extending upwards from the front part of the bench that would fix his head back so the mouth stayed accessible. From behind the hips stuck out at the perfect angle, ass framed like a target. No escape. No twisting away. A body caught and offered up because he said so.

He crouched, tightened each screw, tugged the buckles, tested the tension in the straps. Solid. He had tried it on a very close friend when it arrived, awkwardly fumbling with the cuffs, chin forced back against the brace so far his jaw ached. Since then he’d put it to use a handful of times, never wasted it on anything casual. It wasn’t new anymore, not the kind of thing he paused to admire each day. But every time he clipped a cuff, every time he leaned into the weight of it, he remembered what it had cost him to get here.

He thought back to the summer that had paid for it, a year behind him now. Weeks of double shifts at the hospital, hustling trays, charting vitals, cleaning up other people’s mess. Every paycheck shaved down by rent and textbooks until he finally scraped enough together for this frame. It had arrived in a crate heavy enough to need two neighbors to haul upstairs. He had bolted it together himself, sweating through his shirt in the heat, imagining the first boy he’d strap into it. A purchase that big on a med student’s budget should have made him sick, but it never had. The memory of that summer didn’t sour him. It made him harder.

He adjusted the ankle arms a little wider, imagined Ezra’s legs trembling as the cuffs clicked shut. Lifted the wrist bars higher so his chest would strain forward. He wanted Ezra stretched out, vulnerable, cock trapped in that cage Liam had turned down.

Randy walked around the frame once more, picturing it filled. Ezra’s pale skin pulled tight, jaw forced open, hole lined up with the padded column. His cock stirred at the thought, pressing against the front of his sweats. He palmed himself absentmindedly, then forced his hand away. Not yet.

He grabbed the leather whip from the wall and flicked it across his thigh. The crack echoed in the empty room, a promise hanging in the air. Light enough to tease, heavy enough to leave Ezra’s ass flushed and raw. He draped it over the arm of the frame.

The room was quiet except for his own breath. The frame sat square in the center, waiting. The cage lay on the side table, small steel glinting in the lamplight, ready to lock Ezra down.

This was what it had all been for. Every hour bent over hospital work, every time he’d told himself no when friends wanted him to blow off steam, every dollar tucked away. Not wasted. Not when he looked at this steel beast in front of him. Not when he thought about Ezra leaking into the cage, whimpering with his body locked in place, begging for what Randy might not even give.

Randy ran his fingers over the leather cuffs one more time. Smooth on top, rough edges underneath. He pictured Ezra’s wrists shifting against them, trying to test the give. There would be none.

He stepped back, surveyed the room. No more stalling. No more waiting.

Ezra would be here soon. And tonight Randy would put the frame to its best use yet.

Ezra showed up right on time, cheeks already flushed like he’d been running through the night air. Randy opened the door and didn’t bother with greetings. Just jerked his chin.

“Clothes off.”

Ezra’s eyes flicked once toward the living room, then back to Randy. He obeyed, peeling out of his hoodie and jeans in a hurry, folding nothing, just letting the pile hit the floor. He stood there naked, arms loose at his sides, already semi-hard, waiting for direction.

Randy waited a moment, eyes charting a course across Ezra’s well-knit body, then he followed suit and discarded his own clothes.

Randy went to the side table, picked up the small, glossy pink cage Liam had refused. Ezra’s eyes widened when he saw the color, and his throat bobbed when Randy held it out.

“You’re wearing this tonight.”

Ezra nodded. He stepped forward, cock stiffening at the idea of being denied, and let Randy fit the ring behind his balls. Cold metal slid into place, snug, trapping his shaft awkwardly against the bright pink bars. Randy clicked the lock shut and gave the cage a quick tap with his knuckle.

“You want this?”

“Yes, sir.” Ezra’s voice was already tight.

Randy gripped him by the jaw and marched him toward the frame. Ezra’s face was unreadable when he saw it set up under the lamp. He’d been in restraints before, but not this. He stepped into position without being told, spreading his feet to the base plates. Randy bent to snap the ankle cuffs around him, leather biting skin. Then the wrists, pulled forward and high, Ezra’s shoulders stretching. Last came the neck brace, forcing his head back, lips parted, jaw helplessly slack.

Randy stood back and admired his work. Ezra was strung up beautifully, chest rising quick, cock already wet in the pink cage.

He picked up the whip and let it drag lazily across Ezra’s chest. “You like this, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Randy flicked the whip once across Ezra’s ribs. The boy jerked, then groaned, his cock leaking more inside the cage.

“You’re lucky I’m still giving you this much attention,” Randy said, circling behind him. He dragged the whip over Ezra’s ass, then cracked it lightly against one cheek. Ezra yelped, strained at the cuffs, then sagged into them with a whimper.

“Because there’s a new boy. Promising. He might be worth more of my time.”

Ezra’s head strained against the brace. “Please, sir—”

Randy cut him off by pressing his cock along Ezra’s lips. Not in. Just a slow drag across the parted mouth. “You hear me? If things work out with him, this could be the last time you feel my cock inside you.”

Ezra whined, muffled against Randy’s shaft, and tried to chase it with his tongue. Randy pulled back, smirked, and then walked behind him again.

He ran the head of his cock down the line of Ezra’s ass crack, stopping to push just against the hole, never pushing in. Ezra shivered, every muscle taut.

“Beg for it,” Randy said quietly.

Ezra’s voice cracked. “Please, sir. Please fuck me. Don’t give him what’s mine.”

Randy laid the whip across his ass again, harder this time. A red line thickened. Ezra gasped.

“You think anything’s yours? You’re a hole. You’re my hole until I say otherwise.”

Another crack, this one across both cheeks. Ezra whimpered, thighs shaking, the cage seeping.

Randy leaned down, voice low in his ear. “You’ll take what I give you tonight, and you’ll thank me for it. Because if this new boy delivers, you might never get this cock again.”

Ezra’s reply was a broken sound, half-sob, half-moan. His body strained for contact even as the restraints held him.

Randy straightened, whip dangling from his fingers, cock thick and ready. He’d let Ezra squirm a little longer before he gave him what he craved.

Randy kept the whip moving until Ezra’s voice was hoarse from counting, his ass striped red, his thighs trembling from the strain of holding still. By the fifteenth stroke the boy’s whole body jerked with each crack, but the frame swallowed the fight. His arms were pinned, his legs spread wide, his jaw forced up by the brace. He was nothing but holes waiting to be filled.

Randy tossed the whip onto the couch and spat twice on his hand. He sspread it over his fingers, then pressed them against Ezra’s rim. The boy twitched instantly, clenching tight, then relaxing into it with a whimper as Randy pushed in. One finger, then two, stretching him rough. Ezra groaned, shoulders flexing in the cuffs, cock trickling through the pink bars of his cage.

“You’re ready,” Randy muttered, pulling his hand back slick. He lined up and pushed in slow at first, grinding through resistance until the head slid past the tight ring. Ezra cried out, the sound raw, jaw locked open by the brace. Randy shoved deeper, filling him inch by inch until he was buried.

“God, you’re always so fucking tight,” Randy growled, resting there for a moment. Then he drew back and slammed forward, hard enough to make the frame jolt. Ezra bellowed — in pain, in pleasure? —  the sound torn out of him, and Randy smiled.

He set a heavy pace, driving deep again and again, hips slapping against raw flesh. Sweat ran down his back, dripping onto Ezra’s spine as he leaned into the fuck. He alternated his rhythm: slow, grinding thrusts that made Ezra whimper, then fast brutal strokes that rattled the cuffs. Each change dragged fresh sounds out of him, broken moans, pleas that dissolved into wordless gasps.

The pink cage tapped faintly against the steel column with every slam, a tiny metallic chime that told Randy exactly how horny Ezra was. He leaned closer, voice rough in his ear.

“Think about this, Ezra. Might be the last time you ever get my cock. I’ve got a new boy lined up. Promising. Better than you.”

Ezra’s whole body jerked. “No—please, sir—don’t stop using me—I need your co—”

Randy’s hand whipped across his cheek, sharp and loud. Ezra’s head snapped sideways against the brace. His eyes watered instantly, tears spilling down, spit hanging from his chin.

“Shut the fuck up,” Randy snarled. “You don’t beg. You don’t own shit. You’re just a hole. You told me that. Remember?”

Ezra whimpered, nodding as best he could, shoulders straining against the cuffs. His cock jerked uselessly in its cage, dripping onto the floor.

Randy gripped his hips tighter and hammered harder. The boy sobbed, his ass gripping down around him, slick with lube and sweat and the mess building inside. Randy forced himself to slow, grinding deep to hold off his orgasm, savoring the feel of Ezra breaking open around him. He pulled almost all the way out, then shoved back to the base in one brutal thrust that made Ezra scream again.

“You love this cock, don’t you?” Randy hissed.

“Yes, Sir,” Ezra groaned, his thighs quivering.

Randy sped up again, pounding him until his own control finally broke. He slammed in deep and held, cock twitching as he filled Ezra’s ass. The release tore through him, hot and overwhelming, and he groaned through clenched teeth, burying himself deeper still. Ezra shook with every pulse, his voice cracking around choked moans.

When Randy finally pulled free, cum leaked out and dribbled down Ezra’s thighs. He stepped around, grabbed the boy’s head by the brace, and shoved his cock between the open lips.

“Clean it.”

Ezra gagged instantly but obeyed, tongue lapping frantically at the mess. Randy pressed in deeper, groaning as the boy swallowed around him.

“Every drop,” Randy ordered. He held Ezra’s skull steady, feeding him inch after inch until his throat bulged with the intrusion. Spit ran down his chin, strings hanging to his chest.

Randy pulled out and slapped him again, less harsh this time, more for emphasis. “Good hole. That’s all you are. Nothing else.”

He shoved back in, using his mouth now. His hips worked steadily, cock sliding in and out with wet sounds. Ezra gagged, choked, then caught the rhythm and took it, throat working.

“You hear me?” Randy’s voice was thick with heat. “I could give this to someone else tomorrow. Someone who deserves it. And you’d be left with nothing but memories of choking on me.”

Ezra groaned around him, eyes rolling up, body twitching in the frame. Pre-cum leaked constantly from his trapped cock, the pink bars glistening.

Randy spat down on his face, rubbed it in with the head of his cock, then thrust back into his mouth, harder, holding him down until his eyes watered again.

“You like that shit,” Randy growled. “The nastier the better. That’s why I keep you around.”

Ezra whimpered in agreement, throat convulsing around him. His chest heaved with every desperate breath, his body trembling from exhaustion and arousal, but his mouth stayed open, ready, obedient.

Randy gripped his skull tighter, sweat dripping down his forearms, and drove in harder, groaning at the feel of Ezra’s throat breaking down under him. He wasn’t going to let up. Not yet.

Ezra gagged again, spit and tears running freely now, his face a mess of humiliation. But his body told the truth: his cock jerked uselessly against the cage, leaking steadily, every drop proof of how much he craved the use.

Randy leaned down, voice low, almost a growl. “Remember this. If you ever see me with him. You’ll know exactly what you lost.”

He stayed buried deep, cock twitching against the back of Ezra’s throat, holding him there, savoring the way the boy squirmed helplessly around him.

And he wasn’t pulling out.

Randy finally pulled out, spit and pre-cum stringing between Ezra’s lips and his cock. The boy’s face was streaked and raw, chest heaving, the pink cage dribbling steady. Randy slapped his cheek lightly, more a mark of ownership than punishment.

“On your tongue,” he ordered.

Ezra stretched it out, trembling, showing obedience even with tears still wet on his cheeks. Randy spat on it, then smeared it across his mouth with the head of his cock. He rubbed until the boy’s chin shone, then stepped back.

“Good,” Randy said. “Now show me what that mouth can really do.”

He undid the neck brace just enough to tip Ezra’s head forward and turned around. “Lick.”

Ezra craned toward him instantly, tongue working along the curve of Randy’s balls, then lower. His whimpers filled the quiet room as he pushed further, rimming deep, licking hungrily. Randy braced his hands on Ezra’s shoulders and let him work.

“That’s it,” Randy muttered. “One last taste. Burn it in your memory.”

Ezra moaned into him, tongue frantic, knowing exactly what Randy meant.

Randy pulled back suddenly, walked around to Ezra’s ass, spat on it once, and lined himself up again. Ezra stiffened, the pink cage tapping faintly against the column, but his ass opened as Randy shoved in. This time there was no slow build. Randy hammered hard, hips slapping, balls smacking wet against Ezra’s sore ass. Each thrust forced a strangled sound out of him.

“You’re still my best hole,” Randy grunted, “but you’re not my future. Understand?”

“Yes, sir—yes,” Ezra sobbed, body jerking against the cuffs.

Randy fucked him mercilessly, sweat flying, his thighs burning. The frame rattled faintly with the force but held. Ezra’s whole body shook, locked in place, his caged cock jutting out obscenely from his body. Randy slammed harder, groaning as he felt the orgasm rise quick again.

He stayed deep and came inside for the second time, groaning through clenched teeth as heat spilled into the boy’s already sore body. Ezra cried out, the sound broken, wrecked.

Randy pulled free, cum running down Ezra’s thighs in messy streaks. He undid the cuffs one by one, catching Ezra when his knees buckled. He didn’t kiss him, didn’t soothe him. Just pulled him to the floor and unlocked the chastity cage.

“You’re done. Get dressed. Out.”

Ezra looked up at him, eyes wet, face streaked, chest heaving. “Please, sir—”

Randy cut him off. “No shower. Take my mess with you.”

Ezra whimpered, scrambled for his clothes. He dressed clumsily and slipped out without meeting Randy’s eyes. The door closed, leaving the apartment thick with sweat, leather, and sex.

Randy didn’t linger. He grabbed his phone from the table, thumb flying. He found Aaron’s contact quickly.

You free Friday? Woody’s. 10.

The reply came almost instantly.

Yeah. I’ll be there.

Randy smirked, set the phone down, and leaned back on the couch, still half-hard, the image of Aaron waiting already playing in his mind.

Friday night came fast. Randy walked up Church Street, neon spilling from Woody’s sign across the sidewalk. The air was sharp with weekend energy, but all he noticed was Aaron waiting on the steps, hands in his pockets, leaning easy against the rail.

Randy slid an arm around his waist the moment he reached him. Aaron didn’t resist. He moved into it, fitting under Randy’s arm like he’d been there before. The heat of him through his thin tee made Randy squeeze tighter.

“Ready?” Randy asked.

Aaron glanced up, mouth tugging into a small grin. “Yeah.”

They moved inside together. Like everyone else, they drifted past the first bar without stopping, just part of the flow, and stepped into the crowd. Music and chatter hit them at once, the press of bodies close. Randy kept his arm firm around Aaron, steering him through.

After a moment, when the noise felt like it might swallow them, Randy bent down toward his ear. “What’s your drink?”

“Gin and tonic,” Aaron answered, steady even with the chaos around them.

Randy felt something twist in his chest. Gin and tonic. Same as him. He didn’t say it out loud, just held it close, the thought hitting sharp — oh fuck. He’s perfect.

He steered them toward the side bar, easing out of the crush. A little quieter here, enough space to breathe. He flagged the bartender and ordered two gin and tonics, sliding one into Aaron’s hand when they arrived. Their fingers brushed, and Aaron didn’t pull back.

Randy raised his glass and took a long sip. Only then did Aaron lift his own, mirroring him. It wasn’t hesitation. It was deference. Randy caught it instantly.

Cute doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Perfect hair, bright eyes, a sweet smile, and most importantly… he showed up and he seemed happy to be there.

Randy leaned back against the bar, the gin bright in his chest, and wondered what the night would bring.