## the roommate and the dream (3)

Post by donatello » Wed Jul 29, 2009 12:00 am

At this point, Michael went inside and left me there in my underwear, hands pulled tight above my head, feet tied together, ball-gag securely in place. The sun was shining on me and I was starting to get hot, so I didnâ€™t struggle; I just stood there, helplessly waiting for Michael.
There were other buildings near ours that were approximately the same height, and several of them had roof top access like ours. I couldnâ€™t see anyone out, but many top-floor windows had views of the top of our building, and I realized in humiliation that there were scores of people who could be watching me. My erection, which had subsided somewhat since Michael went inside, flared up again at the thought, so I let it go and tried to focus on something else. I was desperate to keep the bulge in my briefs to a minimum. It was hard to focus on something else, though; there was nothing else to focus on.
Michael didnâ€™t keep me waiting long. He stepped back out onto the porch and closed the sliding door behind him. Then he turned to look at me and smiled broadly.
â€œSeeing you tied like that, exactly how I left you, puts a smile on my face.â€
A couple smart-alec retorts came to my mind, but I held off. Michael wasnâ€™t going to get anymore moans out of me. Not voluntarily, anyway. In any case, something else entirely took my mind off his comment; Michael had changed clothes â€“ or, to be more precise, had stripped off an item or two. He was now wearing only a black speedo, so tiny and worn so low on his slender hips that, if I had been wearing it, my pubic hair would have been showing. Michael, clearly, had taken care of that issue.
He was a sight to behold, and in a glance my eyes took it all in: his slender core, pecs and sixpack; his deltoids and biceps laying exposed on his shoulders and arms, unhidden by any fat or flesh. Then his torso segued seamlessly into his waist and legs, his speedo slung so low across his hips that it seemed more a part of his lower body than his upper. Every inch of him was smooth-skinned and tan from head to foot. I stared at him for several seconds, and he watched me the whole time. I started getting hard again.
All of this â€“ everything that had happened since Michael got home â€“ utterly surprised me. I was definitely an introvert, but I had thought I was completely heterosexual. Not that I dislike gays; several of my friends are gay, including a couple Iâ€™ve know since High School. But I never in my wildest dreams would have put myself in that category. Yet there I was, getting a hard on over Michaelâ€™s body. Or maybe it was simply the fact that this sexy boy had done something for me that I had dreamed about for years, and all that excited, confused energy had to go somewhere.
I examined his crotch. Speedos donâ€™t conceal much, especially the kind that Michael was wearing. There was a bulge, to be sure. But I doubt it compared to mine.
I was so captivated by his spectacular body that I didnâ€™t notice what he was carrying in his hand. As he walked towards me, however, hips swaying gracefully from side to side, I saw what it was: a bottle of sunscreen. It hit me in an instant what was about to happen; and my erection flared up again to its former height. He was about to lather sunscreen all over my body.
He walked up to within inches of me and looked down into my eyes.
â€œThe sunâ€™s pretty hot today. I wouldnâ€™t want your sensitive skin to burn.â€
There was unmistakable mockery in his voice, and I couldnâ€™t help blushing at the stark contrast between his tanned, polished body and my white skin that clearly hadnâ€™t seen the sun in a while. Without breaking eye contact, he raised his left hand and gently squeezed the tip of my right nipple between his index finger and thumb. His sudden touch surprised me and I didnâ€™t initially react. Then he began to roll the tip of my nipple back and forth between his fingers; this sensation, however, I could not ignore. I flinched away from his grasp (as much as my bonds would allow).
â€œOh, you like it that much, huh? Did I touch you just right?â€
As excited as I was, I could sense things going a new direction. It didnâ€™t feel as innocent as when it began. Perhaps Michael sensed my fear, because he stepped back a few inches and uncapped his bottle of sunscreen. He squeezed a large amount onto his right palm, then laid it on my left pec. The cold, liquid gel on my skin sent shivers up my spine, which â€“ of course â€“ induced a rather devious smile and a chuckle from Michael. He then began to rub the cream onto my chest, working up to my shoulders and neck, thoroughly covering every inch of me. Then he worked down my stomach, drawn taught by my wrist ropes.
When he got to my bellybutton (one of my most self-conscious body parts) he filled it with a big glob, then inserted his little finger and stirred around sharply with his finger-nail. My belly button is very sensitive and, quite involuntarily, I started squirming. But no matter how hard I tried, the ropes holding my body stretched tight wouldnâ€™t allow me to escape his probing finger. Desperate, I began to grunt and moan. His eyes made contact with mine, and, for the first time (though certainly not the last) I looked at him pleadingly. He milked it for all it was worth, continuing my torment for another few seconds, then withdrew his finger.
â€œBoy, are we sensitive down there, or what?â€
I exhaled in deep relief, breathing hard to catch my breath.
Michael stepped to my side, placed one hand on my belly and with the other applied cream to my back. Then he worked on my legs, staring just below my briefs. His fingers brushed my crotch several times. I honestly couldnâ€™t get harder.
When he finished, he stood back and examined me.
â€œYou look so much sexier that way. You look like someone just oiled you up.â€ Apparently he found this funny, because he laughed. â€œNow I can leave you here with a clear conscience. At least you wonâ€™t burn.â€
Strangely enough, he sounded suddenly sincere. The sarcasm, for an instant, was gone, and I could tell he was really worried about leaving me naked in the sun. It was small consolation, as I was still bound and still gagged. But I was relieved to see his compassionate side again. I had thought for a moment that he had changed into someone I didnâ€™t know. And in truth he had; but the Michael I knew was evidently there, just below the surface.
Michael promptly sat down and began to apply sunscreen to his own body. Soon he was as lubed as I, and he lay down on the bench where the duffel bag had been, stretched his arms out above his head and let out a deep sigh. He raised his head to peer down his prostrate body at me, grinned, and lay his head back again.
It was an odd situation: I stood there in my underwear, he lay there in his speedo; both of us were covered in sunscreen, tanning in the sun. True, one of us was bound and gagged, but other than that we were doing roughly the same thing wearing the same amount.
After about an hour I had become very hot, very sweaty, and very thirsty. And Michael appeared to be asleep. When I couldnâ€™t take it any longer, I began mmphing and moaning through my gag to get Michaelâ€™s attention. I think he heard me from the start because I swear I saw his eyes open a fraction for a split second and look at me, but he didnâ€™t move for a full five minutes. He was probably milking my helplessness for all it was worth, enjoying my gagged noises for as long as his conscience would let him. Eventually, though, he got up.
He swaggered slowly over to me; he was, of course, smiling.
â€œWhatâ€™s up, sexy? Starved for attention?â€
I made some incoherent noises somewhere between a moan and a groan.
â€œSorry, what was that? Youâ€™re going to have to enunciate better.â€
I knew if I played stubborn and stayed silent, he would just go back to tanning himself, so I swallowed my pride (if I had any left, at this point) and moaned again, trying to sound as pleading and helpless as I could. Michael was clearly enjoying this immensely.
â€œOh, I got it. You want me to play with your nipples? All you had to do was ask.â€
I grunted and squirmed in protest, but he found my nipples and pinched them firmly, so that all my struggling did was cause me pain. I gave up and let out a low moan of defeat. He leaned in to my ear and whispered to me.
â€œIf you promise not to squirm, Iâ€™ll do you a favor.â€
He was still pinching my tits, and resisting had gotten me nowhere, so I nodded obsequiously. He released my nipples, wet his index fingers on both hands with his tongue, then placed each very gently on the very tip of each nipple. At first he just held them there, barely making contact with my skin; then he began to make the slightest circular motions, making sure to contact only the tip of each nipple the whole time.
The sensation was electric. It was as if he had connected a circuit running from the tips of my nipples through my chest to my brain. The initial feeling was so intense I held my breath, then realized I was holding it and released the pent up air in what sounded like a sigh. This was too much for Michael, who laughed â€“ a laugh that said, â€œI canâ€™t believe youâ€™re falling to pieces over this.â€ The other consequence of this is that my erection, which had subsided in the intervening hour, flared up again. He was standing very close to me, and before he was done touching me I felt my junk come up against his crotch.
â€œWow. You really did enjoy that, didnâ€™t you? That is what you wanted, right? I mean, when I looked at you I couldnâ€™t help noticing your big, soft nipples sweltering in the afternoon sun. They were begging for attention.â€
What he said is true; I do have huge nipples, and Iâ€™m very self conscious about them, actually. So playing with them like that was about as humiliating as anything that he had done thus far.
I moaned again, desperate for relief from the sun, and especially from my gag; my jaw was starting to ache badly and my mouth was dry.
â€œYou want me to do it again?â€
And so he stimulated my supple nipples with his fingertips again, while I just stood there helplessly and took it. I didnâ€™t dare moan while he was at it, for fear of convincing him that I actually enjoyed it. Donâ€™t get me wrong, it was pleasure alright. But the humiliation of it dampened my enjoyment. When he finally finished, he gave me that dirty smile of his. And I began moaning desperately. For the second time, I looked him straight in the eyes and pleaded. I had never before felt what I felt then: utter helplessness. I was relying entirely on his mercy. Apparently, my submission and self-humiliation were acceptable, because his expression changed, and I could see the old Michael again coming through.
He slipped in behind me and undid my gag. What a relief!
â€œI need water,â€ was all I said. He went in the house and returned moments later with a glass of water, which he put to my lips and helped me drink.
â€œHow long are you going to leave me out here?â€
â€œYou want to be put inside?â€
I nodded. He said nothing, but immediately bent over and began to untie my ankles, as well as the rope that held my arms above my head. I felt wonderful to hold them in front of me again. Using the latter rope, he led me inside. We went straight to the bathroom.
â€œTake a shower. And donâ€™t close the bathroom door; and donâ€™t draw the shower curtain either. I donâ€™t care if the floor gets wet. I want to be able to see you at all times.â€
So I did as he said, and with my hands tied in front of me I did my best to wash myself. I still had my underwear on, of course, which I did not remove. I had no idea what to expect when I got out of the shower.
End Part Three

### Re: the roommate and the dream (3)

Post by gagged-cowboy » Wed Jul 29, 2009 12:31 am

Absolutely great. Thanks for another part.

### Re: the roommate and the dream (3)

Post by Fesselfan » Wed Jul 29, 2009 3:54 am

It would be even greater if you kept the parts in one thread
Cheers
FF
There are 10 kind of people in the world.
Those who understand binary numeral system, and those who don't.

### Re: the roommate and the dream (3)

Post by pinochio892000 » Mon Aug 03, 2009 8:38 am

Awesome
Interesting from the begin to the end
Can't wait for part 4
Cheer

### Re: the roommate and the dream (3)

Post by The Piano Man » Wed Aug 12, 2009 11:18 pm

Got to be one of the best series i've read on this site in the LONGEST time
Incredibly talented writing
Eagerly waiting part 4!!
Life is like playing the piano.
First you have to learn the rules.
Then you have to forget the rules and play from ur heart

### Re: the roommate and the dream (3)

Post by The Piano Man » Sun Dec 06, 2009 4:35 am

Still waiting for the next part!!
Had a random thought about this story the other day
Still definetly one of my favourite fictions out there!
Life is like playing the piano.
First you have to learn the rules.
Then you have to forget the rules and play from ur heart

### Re: the roommate and the dream (3)

Post by tiedup101 » Tue Mar 02, 2010 4:03 pm

Continuation coming?
Hey! I'm John! I love bondage! Send me a PM or send me a message at John_9734@yahoo.com! Open to anybody, but more into m/m bondage!

### Re: the roommate and the dream (3)

Post by donatello » Mon Oct 04, 2010 1:25 pm

Sorry about the very long delay; at first I wasn't sure how to finish the story, and then I got busy and it was driven from my mind. But every story deserves an ending, so here it is.
I kept looking over my shoulder out the open door as I showered, fearing to see Michael watching me (as I was still tied up, he let me shower on condition I left the door unlocked and open). But each time I looked, the part of the living room that I could see was empty. It's not easy to lather up when your hands are tied together, but I did my best. When I turned off the water, I realized that there were no towels in the bathroom - Michael had removed them. I waited a moment, letting most of the water run off my body, then stepped walked into the living room.
There was Michael, lying on his back on the sofa. He had put on a pair of jeans that, while not really tight, fit his form well and hung low on his hips. He was smirking in his now all-too-familiar way while he looked at me. I have to admit, I was a fairly pathetic sight: wet, tied and wearing only a pair of skimpy underwear was soaked and so clung to my body like spandex. That he hadn't let me dry myself off was just the latest in a long list of personal dignities and freedoms I had been denied - proving to me, over and over again, that I was his slave.
"Had a nice shower?" he asked. I raised my eyebrows a little, but knew better than to play the tough guy and nodded. "Good," he responded. "So, what now?" He was throwing it out there as an open question, as if to say, "Have you had fun? Have you had enough? Do you want me to end it, or keep going?" He said it with an arrogant tone, but I could tell that he was seriously considering my position, and how I was feeling.
As for me, I couldn't tell what answer to give to his unspoken questions. It had been fun, and I did want him to untie me. I was embarrassed standing so exposed before him, yet I felt almost strangely comfortable. Being his nearly-naked slave both horrified and excited me. I wasn't at all sure of my feelings. But I did know one thing: I didn't dare let him know how I felt - that part of me wanted him to continue, to keep going with this and see where it would lead. So I raised my bound hands and gestured that I wanted to be released.
"You want me to untie you?" he asked. I nodded. He gave me a devious grin and paused, infinitely comfortable and at ease on the couch, for several moments. I waited, making no sign, hoping not to betray my fear that he wouldn't release me. Then he got slowly to his feet and said, "sure." And he unbound my wrists. When the last knot came undone, he said (standing right next to me), " thanks, that was fun," with his usual grin that was good-natured and devious at the same time. Then he turned and walked past me towards the bathroom, smacking my ass with his right hand as he did. I reacted by stiffening up, but it took me a while to relax. For a long moment after the door closed, the lock clicked, and the sound of water came from the bathroom, I stood there unmoving, totally unable to move because the thought processes that were supposed to be sending orders to my body were in utter confusion. I was finally woken from my reverie by the silence when the flow of water in the bathroom stopped. This galvanized me to action, for I dared not let him know that he had frozen me in place for ten full minutes. I quickly retreated down the hallway to my room, and closed the door.
THE END