3

-NORTH-

THE WARMwetness of his mouth closing around my cock is so good that I almost come on the spot. The only thing holding me back is the sheer shock of what's happening. Because Malcolm Blackwood, the Malcolm Blackwood, is giving me a blow job. My dick is in his mouth and his lips are sliding down the length as he takes me in and—fuck!

I've fantasized about this so many times in the past few weeks that it's not even funny. but now it's really happening. And the reality is so much better than anything I could imagine.

The tip of his tongue flicks over my head and then runs down the bottom of my shaft as his lips slide down again, and I choke.

I stare down at him along the length of my body, unable to take my eyes off the top of his head as it moves up and down, his dark hair swaying. His hands grip my hips, pinning me in place as he gives me the best blow job I've ever had in my entire life. Fuck. I want it to last as long as possible but I'm on the edge already, breathing heavily as I struggle to keep the noises fighting to get out inside. But then he tilts his head and looks up at me, his fierce eyes hot under his lashes. My brain short circuits, and I can't stop a shuddering groan from escaping my loose lips.

He hums around my cock, sending a vibration through me that makes my hairs stand on end, and taps a finger on my hip before holding it up. Strike one. Shit. I try to press my lips together, unable to muffle myself with my hands tied under the bench.

His hand doesn't go back to my hip, instead he slides it over my belly and slips it up my top, under the pads and undershirt, until he finds my nipple. His finger flicks over it. My lips shake. Then he pinches and twists, and I can't help the keening noise that comes out of me. Again, the hum that turns my legs to jelly. Again, the tap to my hip and two fingers raised. Shit. He's only just started and I'm already up to an hour. This is pure torture, but I don't want it to stop.

I bite down on my lips as he draws all the way back to the tip and pauses before he slides all the way down again. Slow and steady. I swear he's getting slower, trying to tease another noise out of me. A whine builds up in my chest, trapped there as he keeps the agonizingly slow rhythm going, drawing up, letting me hang, before sliding down again. I try to push up into his mouth, desperate for more. But his grip on my hips tightens, holding me down on the bench.

Finally it's too much, it all just feels too good. My brain has turned to mush. I plead and moan, trying to thrust up against him into the deep, warm tightness of his mouth. I don't care about the time penalties anymore. It just feels too good. The punishment is future North's problem, not mine. All I care about is chasing that warmth and the bliss that shoots through me. He picks up the pace and my mouth hangs open.

"Ugh! Shit, that feels so good."

I don't even know how many taps I'm getting now, all I'm aware of is the feel of his mouth on me and the sweet tension pooling at the base of my spine, growing and growing until I can't hold it anymore.

The dam bursts. My legs shake as my body arches up off the bench and I spill into his mouth in great rolling waves. My head rolls to the side, eyes unseeing, and I groan long and loud. Every muscle in my body clenches and uncoils, then clenches again, until finally I melt into a puddle of bliss. Once I finish he pulls off and shows me four fingers. I'm sure I earned more than that, but my stomach still drops. Two hours. Shit. Now I'm future North and it's my problem. But I can't blame pre-orgasm North, it was totally worth it. I'm going to replay that blowjob in my mind forever.

I lie on the bench, my limbs liquid, waiting for my head to stop spinning. Wow.

He pushes himself up and leans over my body, then wraps his hand around my jaw and squeezes, hinging it open. I open my mouth, and he hovers his face over mine, lips pursed. For a moment I think he's going to kiss me. Then a line of cum dribbles from his lips and pools on my tongue, salty and bitter. He keeps going, passing all of my cum into my mouth until it's full, then pushes it closed.

"Keep it in your mouth," he says. "Taste yourself."

I let it sit on my tongue, the warm fluid tangy.

"Wait here."

He gets up, the door opens and closes with a flash of light, and then I'm alone in the gloom with my cock lying against my bare thigh, tied to the bench, my mouth full of my own cum. Where's he going? Is this my punishment? I shift and the bench creaks.

But he reappears again a moment later, carrying his bag over his shoulder. He drops it onto the bench between my knees and opens it. After the flash of light from outside I can't make out what he's doing until cold metal presses against my sensitive cock and balls, making me flinch. The cage. He locks it into place, then stands over me.

"How do you taste?" he asks, knowing I can't answer. I glare at him. Is he going to let me spit it out? Surely he's not going to make me keep it in my mouth for the whole two hours. I move the cum around with my tongue, humiliated and already aroused again. I should find it disgusting, because it is. It makes me feel so pathetic and powerless and hopelessly horny. How does he do this to me?

He takes a length of rope from the bag and ties it around my ankles, fastening them under the bench so my legs are pulled tight around it and my knees spread with the edges of the bench digging into the inside of my legs and thighs. The ropes slide against my skin, smooth and strong.

Once he's finished he steps back, taking in his work. I shift again.

"Now you can swallow."

Relieved, I close my eyes and gulp, and it slides down my throat in a lump, leaving behind a greasy residue on my tongue and a bitter aftertaste. It tastes nothing like his cum.

I'm getting edgy now, I want to ask what my punishment is, but if I speak will he add more time? If I know him, two hours is going to be bad enough, I don't want to add to it.

He rummages in the bag again and brings something up to my face. Soft fabric pushes between my lips and tightens as he ties it around the back of my head, tugging at some strands of hair.

I make a muffled noise through the gag as he pulls something else out, and then there's fabric over my eyes and I really can't see anything.

"Comfy? You're going to stay here for two hours, alone in the dark, so you can really think about what you did."

I make a noise. The punishment isn't as bad as I feared, there has to be another catch.

"I should be leaving you for longer, because you really made a lot of noise, but you played so well I'm cutting you some slack. You can thank me later."

His hand moves through my hair, almost gentle, then there's a long moment of silence. So long that I wonder if he's already gone. I move my head, trying to make out any noises.

Something touches my hand under the bench and I jump, but it's only Mal pressing something into my fingers that's small, hard, and squarish. Some kind of beeper? He positions my index finger on what feels like a button.

"Press this and I'll come back."

Is he actually going to leave me here like this? What if someone comes in and finds me? I pull against the ropes, but they hold fast and my cock tries to fill inside the cage at the prospect of it as my body flushes hot.

I hear him walk off, turning my head to track the sound. Is that it? Leaving me like this is humiliating, but just lying here for a few hours, even though I'll get uncomfortable, isn't that bad. I expected more from him. The noise stops, and I can picture him standing in the doorway looking back at me. Suddenly the plug in my ass jumps to life, sending a shock through me. I gasp and my eyes fly wide behind the blindfold. I almost forgot it was in somehow after everything that happened. The vibration starts low and grows slowly, sending a buzz through my core that's impossible to ignore, like an electric current directly on my exposed nerves. I squirm.

"See you later, Nolan."

The door closes.