The door was ajar and a thin stream of dim light illuminated from within. I smirked as I sauntered closer to the threshold, peering through the crack with voyeuristic intent. Daryl stood before a long mirror, stretching a pair of nylons up along his thin legs and over his groin. He was otherwise nude and even in the poor lighting I could make out the definition of his taut, lithe, frame. I could feel a stirring in my trousers as I watched him admire himself, vainly stroking his cock through the sheers. Daryl and I both possessed our fetishes and a week prior we agreed to explore them freely. We spoke in depth about his affinity for cross-dressing and I spent many nights perched upon his nylon-clad legs, fondling his prick through the sheers. It was intense to see how much it turned him on, how swollen he would become beneath my palm as I kneaded him through the thin fabric.
It had been a week since our conversation and I had not yet alluded to my own kinks. Although he was curious, he could tell that I remained guarded and was probably mustering the courage to confront me at some point. However, as I stood behind the door with several yards of cotton rope slung over my shoulder, I knew his curiosity would be quenched long before he expected. I settled my hand on the doorknob as his neck was craning back in ecstasy. Daryl was working himself into a frenzy and was oblivious to my presence. I could feel the tips of my ears burn scarlet as he began to elicit moans, coaxing himself swiftly to an orgasm. Before he could manage a climax, however, I threw an arm around his chest and roughly clasped my hand over his mouth.
A shriek erupted from his throat and he screamed into my palm. The vibrations of his lips against my hand excited me and I held him fast against my chest, breathing in the subtle sweetness of his raven locks. He was rigid in my grasp as I guided him backwards towards the bed, still not revealing my identity. Daryl had been so preoccupied by his erection that he must not have seen my reflection in the mirror. I was amused by how vulnerable he was, thrilled to feel his thundering heart beneath my arm. He was truly terrified and I was not ready to reveal myself yet. I was confident he would come to the conclusion soon enough but I wanted to drag out his fear for as long as possible...it is what turned me on the most.
I drove him fiercely into our mattress, pressing his head into the pillow threateningly. Daryl seemed to be paralyzed in fear, so stunned that he could not bring himself to peer over his shoulder. He remained stiff as a board as I began to snake a yard of the soft rope around his slender wrists. He was heaving rapidly into the pillow as I threaded more rope under his arms and around his elbows, bringing them as close together as possible before cinching the knot. I gasped as I watched the musculature in his back ripple; I could feel the crotch of my denims tighten as he began to struggle meekly. Daryl was a natural submissive and I could not tell whether he knew it was me yet because he played the role so well. Partially because it was an inherent trait of his, an intense inner desire to be dominated.
Placing one hand firmly on his back, I reached into my pocket and produced a bandana. I lightly grasped a fistful of his dark hair and lifted his head just enough to position the folded fabric around his eyes. This seemed to rattle him to the core. Suddenly he began to buck madly beneath me, driving his nylon covered ass deep into my groin. I exhaled and attempted to regain composure as I finished knotting the folded material behind his head. I rolled off of him after he was blinded and upon feeling the absence of my weight, he flipped onto his back and his quivering lips parted in fear.
“Bri?” he questioned, his tone wavering, “Wh-who..”.
Before he could inquire further, I produced two more handkerchiefs from my pocket and wadded them into his gaping mouth. His adam's apple lurched initially as I crammed them past his teeth, causing his cheeks to inflate. Immediately his tongue began to work to push them out but I roughly grabbed his face in warning and retrieved a belt that was slung over the headboard of our bed. I typically used my belt to spank him but now I looped it around his head, drawing it tight over his lips to ensure the makeshift gag remained in place. It looked sloppy but the sight of his cheeks bulging beneath the fine Armani leather only fueled my own erection. His head bobbed side to side in protest and I simpered cruelly before leaning over the bed. From beneath the box frame I drug out a shallow storage bin which contained more rope, copious rolls of tape, and various methods of torture. Daryl rolled idly around on the mattress as I chose some thin, rough, hemp to bind his ankles. I sat backwards on his thighs as I worked on his feet, grinding into his slowly deflating cock, hoping to rekindle his formerly raging hard on. I felt its hard tip promise against my ass as I worked, almost challenging my verdict not to let him cum this evening.
Remaining resolute to my convictions, I began to tie the twine around both of his big toes through the nylon to further instill his helplessness. Of course, these actions were only preliminary. In my mind I envisioned rendering him utterly immobile, dominating him to the deepest extent of my desires. Once his feet were effectively bound for the time being, I relieved his thighs of my weight once more and noticed his forced boner still remained in attention. Through the thin sheers I could still see the contours of his prick, every pulsating vain and the pronounced bulb that lead to his raw, tender, slit. I could not resist rubbing the nob of his steadily rising prick, feeling beneath the pad of my thumb the pre-cum that began to seep from its reddening tip. Beads of sweat began to form at his temples as his nerves and arousal simultaneously spiked.
“Whore,” I hissed amusedly beneath my breath, watching as a small stain appeared on the mesh where I had touched him.