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Boots heavy on the creaky hardwood floor. Dusty and laden with cracks, Sam’s footprints the only disturbance they’ve witnessed in the last few years. No one comes around this house anymore. Not even the hormone fueled teenagers who used to fumble in the house’s dark corners. Not since the last couple were rushed to the hospital by a passing truck driver. Tear stained faces and too embarrassed to explain why their throats and wrists were covered with bruises, blood seeping through the backs of their jeans.
Hot summer air in his lungs, Sam pulls on the collar of his shirt. He takes slow, careful steps down the stairwell leading down to the basement. Pulls on the cord hanging from the ceiling to flood the room in warm incandescent light. Sam stalks across the basement, eyes glancing over the stained brick walls. Watermarks where a washer and dryer used to be, some thirty years ago.
He lets out a sigh of relief, calm washing over him, when his eyes land on a pair of metal cuffs mounted on the wall. Both cuffs unlocked and in pristine condition, positioned far enough from each other to allow whomever’s arms to be spread out. Sam traces the cold metal of the chain leading down to a cuff with one finger, shivering in anticipation. He feels it then, a sudden rush of cold, the air he breathes out leaving in a fog.
He turns around, eyes darting around the room, hand clutching around an imaginary gun in reflex.
“Hey,” he says with a nervous smile. “Remember me?”
He waits with bated breath.
The lightbulb hanging from the center of the room flickers in response.
Sam gulps.
“So. How do you want me?”
Sam is slammed against the wall in response. Arms lifted and spread eagle, cuffs clamping tightly around his wrists, none of his own doing. A specter forms in front of Sam, latex fit tightly around its form from head to toe, the only openings for its mouth and cock.
It lunges at Sam, crowding him with its cold, rubber laden body, tongue laving hungrily on Sam’s cheek. Sam moans in response, hips rising to grind against the gimp’s. Its hand cups at the forming bulge in Sam’s jeans and squeezes.
“Behave,” it whispers sternly.
Sam whimpers through biting his lip and nods.
It gets to work on unbuttoning Sam’s flannel. Licks and nips along his naval, making its way down to his nipples to suckle. Sam lets out a proper moan and tosses his head back, reveling in the warm, wet attention.
“Have you been good since the last time you came?” it says, hot breath on Sam’s red, swollen nipple. He whimpers and hides his face behind a raised arm in response. A bite, and Sam yelps.
“Answer me, boy.”
Sam peeks out from behind his hair.
“I,” a shake of his head,”No. No I haven’t.”
It looks up, takes note of the sadness in his eyes.
“Alright, then.”
The gimp pulls back and Sam whines at the loss of attention. It pulls a fist and strikes against Sam’s abdomen. Sam quickly keels over, wind knocked out of him, spittle landing on its latex. It grabs Sam by the jaw and raises his face towards it. Sam steels himself for another blow.
“Guess we have some catching up to do.”
It pushes Sam back towards the wall. Sam lands back with an ‘oof’ and widens his eyes at the sight of a nine tail whip manifesting in the gimp’s hand.
The first lash against his bare chest, Sam grits his teeth.
The second lash, a grunt escapes.
“Let me hear some noise, boy.”
The third lash comes down the hardest. Only then, Sam yelps.
The whip dissipates when the gimp makes its way back to Sam’s chest. Lapping at the fresh wounds scattered across, it notices he’s not as filled out as the last time he saw him. Hasn’t been caring for himself. Wouldn’t have come back down here if he was.
Sam hisses at the attention on the marks across his abdomen, trailing down to his hips. He feels himself filling out the front of his jeans when its tongue follows the red droplets leading down to his waistband.
The gimp nibbles on Sam’s hip bone while getting to work on unbuttoning Sam’s jeans. They’re tugged off in a haste, leaving Sam in his boots and disheveled flannel. Cock bouncing with Sam’s ragged breaths.
“Please…”
With a smirk, the gimp sets itself down on its knees.
“Well, since you asked so nicely.”
Sam’s half-hard cock is engulfed in the gimp’s warm mouth. Sam watches himself being taken into the opening in the latex mouth. Plush lips wrapped around his cock, moving up and down, surrounded by hints of scruff. The only identifying part of the mask, no green eyes to stare into. Tongue working underneath the shaft, the head of his cock hitting the back of its throat. No reflex, just pure stimulation.
He feels himself get close, about to warn the gimp. It decides there was no need and pulls back and squeezes Sam’s sac.
“Fuck. Let me- please,” he pleads.
“Not ‘till I fucking say so.”
It grabs hold of the back of one of Sam’s knees and hikes it up to his abdomen. Sam quivers at the sudden cold of the latex mask between his cheeks accompanied with a prying tongue.
“Get you--nice and,” it huffs in-between licks, “wet. Enjoy it while you can. This is all you’re gonna get.”
Sam whimpers in response, cock leaking against himself.
When it pulls away and stands in front of him, Sam inhales a sharp breath at the sight of the gimp’s hard cock. Only for a moment, until both his legs are hauled up to his chest and he feels the blunt head of it pushing into him.
Sam screams into the crook of his arm, cock growing even harder.
“Look at me, boy.”
Sam looks up at the featureless mask. He sinks down even further on its cock and moans as he does so.
“I knew it was you as soon as you came in,” a thrust, “no one walks in here like you do. All the weight on your shoulders,” finally bottoming out.
Setting up a proper rhythm, “The loneliest boy.”
“Coming to me,” fucking in and out, “when you can’t get what you need-”
Leaning into Sam’s face, hot breath on his cheek, “From him.”
Sam lets the tears fall, then.
“Please. Just,” trying not to whimper through his tears, “just fuck me.”
The lightest kiss on his cheek, catching a tear.
“Don’t worry, boy. You know I’ll take care of you.”
It hikes his legs up even further, fucking into him with earnest. Sam tosses his hair back and closes his eyes. Lets his tears fall down the sides of his face, loses himself in the rhythm. The back and forth swing, the clattering of the chains he hangs from.
Every once in a while it hits that one, perfect spot. His cock leaking against his chest. Moans escaping his mouth, slack jawed. He wraps his legs over the gimp’s shoulder to better position himself to have it hit right where he wants it. The gimp seems to sense this and slows down his thrusts. Sam whines and looks wide eyed, pleading silently.
“You know how this works,” it growls, “you don’t come until I tell you to, and only on my cock.”
“But-” a bitten back whine when he feels its cock leave him entirely.
“We can stop at any time. If you don’t listen, you can leave.”
Sam’s cock twitches in response.
“That’s what I thought.”
It rams its cock back in. But this time, taking special care to hit upwards, making Sam’s cock add to the mess on his chest.
The back and forth, the burn, and the sweet pressure building. Sam moans wantonly at the ceiling. Wishing he could reach an arm down and tug on himself, to finally release. But he knows this is just what he needs. To let go, to forget himself for a moment. To forget-
“I see you.”
Jostled out of his thoughts.
“Come back to me, Sam. Focus on this.”
It pulls back and rams back in, rolling his hips, allowing Sam to savor the pressure against his sweet spot.
“Tell me you’re a good boy, Sam.”
Struggling to catch his breath and find the words, “I-”
“Tell me you did all you could,” slowing down his thrusts to allow Sam to breathe.
“Tell me you’ll be okay. That you’ll see him again.”
More tears falling, Sam nods his head.
He chokes out the words.
“I am. I did. I will.”
He allows himself to weep openly, now.
The gimp picks up its pace and leans in. Locks its lips with Sam’s, swallowing his sobs.
Sam follows the rhythm. Losing himself in the feeling of its mouth on his, muffling his cries, latex smearing his tears into his face. He feels the pressure building in him again, wrapping his legs tighter around its shoulders.
“Sam,” it whispers against his lips. “Come for me.”
He quickly locks his lips around the gimp’s to muffle his scream. Cock pulsing and spraying himself and the latex on top of him in come.
The gimp rides him through it. Following soon after, flooding Sam’s ass with its own come, grunting against his lips. Slowing down his thrusts until Sam’s spent cock lets out its last pulse of come.
Labored breaths in between them, the gimp pulls out and Sam grimaces at the wetness pulsing out of him. Sam’s legs are pulled off its shoulders and gently placed on the floor. Latex gloved hands are tucked under Sam’s arms as the cuff holding him unlink, arms falling down to his sides. The gimp steadies him as Sam regains the reins over himself.
Sam lets himself slide down the wall, buries his face in his hands. A palm on his shoulder, the gimp crouched with him.
“You will be okay, Sam. I know you will.”
Sam raises his head from his hands and shakes the hair off his face. Bleary eyed, he looks at the gimp and sees a hint of a smile.
“I don’t know about that. But thanks. For this.”
The gimp rises and leans against the wall to give Sam space to get dressed.
Sam moves toward the staircase leading out of the basement until-
“Hey,” Sam turns around.
“Before you go, do you think you could…” It gestures toward the chains on the wall.
Sam breathes in heavily and looks at the gimp.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” it casts its masked face toward the floor, almost embarrassed.
“I figure, this’ll be the last time you’ll swing around my way,” it shrugs.
“It’s been a long time coming.”
Sam gives him a firm nod.
“Alright, then.”
When Sam returns with the salt and starter fluid, the gimp stops him one more time.
“You take care, Sam.”
He can’t see its eyes, but he imagines they’re kind in the moment.
“Thanks, and good luck.”
It tosses its head back in laughter.
“God knows I’ll need it.”
Sam bites his cheek and strikes a match.