*****

He woke, bound and gagged and lying on the floor. It was cold and dark. The sensation of having been left like this in one position, for too long, was making itself known by the increased pain in his joints as he tried to stretch himself out.

What had happened? He had only foggy memories of events prior to waking up here, alone and cold, in the dark.

"Hello?"

He cried out cautiously, hoping to somehow elicit a response from someone, anyone.

Silence was the witty reply.

He lay, a sense of resignation growing in the pit of his belly. All he knew was darkness and cold and pain. The fact that his arms were bound at the wrists, behind his back, his feet bound at the ankles. He still wore his boots, but nothing apart from that. The floor was dirty and hard and uneven, tiny stones pushing uncomfortably into his side.

He rolled over, trying to see if there was anything above him. Nothing.

Squeezing his eyes tight shut, he tried not to think about what it meant, being here alone. The stones pressed painfully into his back. He rolled over onto his other side.

There was a thin line of pale light a fair distance away. He stared at it, hoping by will power alone to bring it closer to him, to show him where he lay and to reveal who else was here in this place with him.

The light suddenly grew to a door shape and he heard footsteps coming towards him. He waited.

A pair of booted feet came into his direct line of sight.

"Ready to behave now mate?"

A voice that sounded familiar, but he didn't want to think about it. He just stared at the feet, suddenly feeling the unwelcome and unfamiliar sensation of fear in his gut. The other laughed.

"I'm guessing so."

He found himself being hauled roughly to his feet, felt the ropes around his ankles being removed so that he could walk. He cried out in pain as blood flowed into muscles that had been in one position for too long.

He was half carried, half dragged towards the pale light. Squinting against it, he was roughly shoved into a chair. His ankles were bound to the legs of the chair. He didn't dare look up, trying instead to remember, to plan.

His captor walked slowly around him, seemingly pleased at the situation.

"Good. It's about time we had the situations reversed. How does it feel to be helpless for a change? To know you have to answer to me, to be screaming for me, instead of the other way around? And believe me, you will be screaming for me by the end of the night."

He looked up, slowly, fixing his eyes on a familiar face. He swallowed, the action made difficult by the sudden dryness of throat and mouth. He lowered his eyes.

His captor moved closer to him, touching him with soft, trailing fingers. Fingers that left trails of fire under his skin. He began to sweat. The fingers traced a gentle path from his shoulders down his body to his groin. He gasped when they first touched his dick.

Never in his life had he felt such a huge rush of blood to his groin. His dick went from flaccid to rock hard instantly. He heard a low chuckle come from his captor. He refused to look up.

Fingers wrapped gently around his dick and stroked, once, twice, three times. Then a soft thumb ran down the underside of his dick, down the now obvious vein, to the base of the skin. Fingers trailed softly over his balls, down between his legs, to massage his perineum. He moaned.

The fingers moved under him, finding his arse, running across his opening in one swift move. He wailed.

Then the fingers were gone, and he almost found himself begging his captor to continue the glorious torture.

He suddenly felt himself being yanked backwards in his chair by the rope holding his wrists. A trickle of sweat ran down his cheek and dripped onto his chest. He closed his eyes, tightly.

A tongue rasped swiftly up his cheek and he jumped. He opened his eyes, locking his gaze with that of his captor. He felt the talented fingers trace their way around his shoulders, down his muscles, and shuddered. Lips locked onto his neck, and teeth sunk slowly, painfully into his flesh. He gasped, felt something warm and sticky trickle down his neck and onto his chest.

A tongue lapped at the wound made in his neck, drank of his blood, and watched with seeming fascination the slow flow of crimson down pale flesh. He felt weight against him and realised that his captor had straddled him.

He felt his dick being taken in a soft yet firm grasp and he was slowly brought to orgasm, biting his tongue against the urge to scream as he came. He was gasping as he found himself being kissed, softly, almost feather light. He felt fingers work their way underneath them both, and slide slowly inside him.

Again his dick was rock hard. He wasn't sure he could take much more. The feather light kisses and the fingerfucking continued. He began to shake, gasping, blinking, and trying desperately to not make any noise.

He could see a faint light ahead of him, beyond the light of the room as he tried desperately to focus on something other than what was being done to him. The lips moved from his own, and he felt somehow lost without them there. The fingers withdrew from inside him and he gasped again, almost, but not quite letting out a cry.

His captor knelt in front of him, once again working fingers up inside him even as his dick was taken into a hot, wet mouth.

The sucking of his dick, the tongue wrapping itself around his shaft, the occasional gentle scrape of teeth against his flesh, the fingers pushing their way in and out of his body, the other hand rubbing his balls, firmly, persistently. He couldn't stop shaking.

It took him longer to come this time, but he felt his come being swallowed, felt the fingers still working inside him. He couldn't hold it in any longer.

Shaking like a leaf, eyes shut against the dawn, he screamed his release.

Everything stopped. His captor froze. He felt the lips around his dick form a smile, and then the fingers were gently removed from inside him, the mouth pulled back from his dick. His captor stepped back.

"There now. Didn't take that long, did it? Or that much, really. I thought I'd have to get the whips out and knock you unconscious again."

He blinked, a sudden flash of memory, of being beaten, tied up to a rusting metal cross beam, blood streaming down his back, his legs, pooling at his feet. He glared belligerently at his captor.

"Oh yes. You loved it. You may not have said it, but your body betrayed you. I could have flown flags from your erection while we were going at it."

He remembered feeling more aroused than he had ever known was possible, as he'd been bound hand and foot and left unconscious on the ground. He had wanted it, all of it.

He scowled.

"Fuck you."

He whispered. His mouth and throat were so dry he couldn't manage anything else. The scream had taken all power of louder speech away from him. His captor chuckled.

"You generally do. Payback's a bitch."

His hands and feet were untied. His captor walked towards the door without looking back.

"Clothes are on the table. See you at the Watcher's tonight."

He glared at the departing back, and slowly began to massage blood back into his strained arms and legs.

It was a long time before he left the place, and even longer before he felt himself able to start his car and drive home. But it was worth it.

*end*