More AC!JC
2100 words this time.
JC’s life, as of the last few months, has been carved out into blocks of time. A concert here, an interview here, a sliver of a drink with a director there, hobnobbing here, photoshoot there, studio session here.
“It’s a fucking mess,” JC sighs over the phone. “I’ve got time off soon though. Coming back to LA. Gonna sit around and do absolutely fucking nothing for a month and it’s going to be the best time of my life and you’re gonna be right there with me, you hear?”
Justin smiles. Yeah. He can hear the haggardness of JC’s tone in his voice.
When JC comes home, he’s gotten another tattoo, one that follows in the same pattern as the marker scrawled across his hips, across his crotch. Justin imagines JC laying down at that chair, eyes closed as the word is carved permanently into his skin, holding the arm rests with his face turned away, grimacing in pain. Justin runs his tongue across the healed skin before taking JC’s cock in his mouth, JC’s hands powerfully in his hair, dominating him, controlling him, finding the pleasure he so often forgets out on the road.
Justin discovers easily that JC likes rope, because he ties Justin up in the most complex of knots and fucks him raw, the harsh texture of the rope wrapping down Justin’s cock and forbidding him to come. It’s like JC’s been a secret scholar of this as well, because every time that Justin moves his hands from their uncomfortable position, he cries out loud because the ripe around his cock pulls tighter, collapsing in on itself so that the pain spikes through him.
And his orgasm, glorious in itself, is a due process, where JC undoes his own knots and watches Justin flail and struggle to keep it inside as he unpeels Justin from the rope.
And this addiction grows, day after day until JC finds a book about knots at a second hand bookstore and gives it to Justin as a less than subtle hint. Justin reads through it, and recreates the knots that night all over JC’s body. Which, strangely, he loves, even as his whole torso is covered in rope.
That night, Justin ties JC’s legs to his shoulders, and creates a tight hard tie around JC’s cock and balls, with the knot between them so that he’s really uncomfortable, and Justin dives in and JC’s screaming with the force of his restraint, trying to move, trying to feel, eyes closed and body open but removed from the real world more than ever before. Justin smiles, and shoves himself even deeper into JC, shaking his hips from left to right and back again. JC’s laughing a few seconds later, struggling against himself and his bonds. JC’s tight body wriggles beautifully below Justin, and for a minute, he can understand JC’s new fetish, his love of being on top, his love of being dominant.
When JC finally does come, Justin removing the knots on his cock and his balls slowly as possible so that there’s no rough sting, JC jumps, his gimped body convulsing over and over again in seamless insanity while ropes of steamy white cum is taken away.
He doesn’t mind, either.
The next morning, JC ties Justin down to a straightback chair, arms down the high back, covered from elbow to wrist in rope and the same on his calves, down the legs of the chair. He smiles coyly at Justin as he walks away, and there’s nothing that Justin can do when JC leaves. Instead, Justin wriggles in the chair, trying to find an easy means to escape, but JC’s taped his fingers into hooves and tied them down to the chair, too, so that Justin can’t even flail.
When JC comes back, he doesn’t bother to blindfold Justin, but he does gag him. After, he goes straight for what he came for in the first place- Justin’s torso and Justin’s cock. His mouth fits easily around Justin’s cock, and his nails attack what is left of Justin’s body, arms and thighs and acres of milky white torso.
Justin whispers meekly, his eyes closing with pleasure that seems to run off his body in waves.
“Knew you’d want this,” JC whispers to him, and licks pathways from each of his nipples to Justin’s cock again, where he uses his tongue to spiral down on top of Justin’s cock. Justin sighs and bucks up into his mouth because he can’t use his hands to keep JC where he wants him to be.
JC shakes his head and backs off, backs all the way across the room and Justin tries to rip himself away from the chair.
“Don’t do that,” JC smiles again, and the selfish master is back, because he’s undressing and coming next to Justin. He walks around Justin’s chair evilly. “Wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable, now would we? No. Not at all. Especially when you look so good like that. My own little human chair, hmm? Can I sit? Wanna get off on it.”
Justin turns his head and looks away as much as he can with his body tied down.
“Oh, don’t be like that, baby. You’d want to, too, if you could see yourself,” JC smiles, parting his legs and sitting down on top of Justin, taking his time, his body stretching to accept Justin’s cock. He closes his eyes and gets comfortable, putting his hands on Justin’s shoulders.
“Mmm, yeah,” He says in a hot whisper. Justin sighs under the cloth of his gag. JC rides him hard, not only easing up and down but slamming up and down so that Justin can feel the sting on the back of his thighs as they attack the chair. JC’s moaning, using his hips to row, pleasing himself with Justin’s cock because he knows he’s taken away Justin’s ability to do so himself. Justin’s eyes close in pleasure because he has no clue of what else to do.
And when JC comes, it’s loud and long and lasts forever because he’s still riding Justin hard and not giving a fuck about it. He leans his head into Justin’s and uses his hips hard so that he can bear down on Justin until Justin’s screaming through the gag, shaking and trying desperately to escape the situation. He comes against his will, thighs quaking, body straining and arching to find all of JC’s body in his own.
When Justin tells Eva of what happens, she nods and says that JC told her before. She suggests that Justin find a way to get JC back for the little stunt in not-so-softcore bondage. Justin doesn’t know. But when she gives him something from the back of her car, a long, long chain attached to a collar, he looks at it and just can’t resist.
The next day, JC wakes with his hands bound behind his back, his legs bound to his thighs on cold, cold concrete, his head tilted backward and hands around his throat. He can’t see anything, silk tied around his eyes.
“Good, you’re awake,” his captor says simply. JC tries to strain against the hands, and as he struggles, he sobs out for breath. The hands leave his neck, they go into his hair.
“Shhh.”
“Who are you?” JC asks with a broken voice and lips that are a far cry from his perfect one that he wears on stage.
“You never seem to remember me when you’re just waking up.”
“Why?” JC asks.
“You can’t feel anything, either. Can you?”
While JC’s shaking his head, he goes stiff with pain. And finally, he feels it, he feels his solid and straining erection.
“Yeah. Yeah, I thought you could feel it.”
And JC moans, pulling himself away from his captor’s hands, struggling against his restraints, trying to escape from whatever he’s been tied to.
“You look so hot like that.”
JC turns away, but his captor feels everywhere. Standing up hurts and sitting down hurts just as badly and eventually his captor’s hands are down in his crotch, wrapping seductively around his cock, stroking up and down. JC’s body shivers as it curls up, struggling.
“I want you to keep this, you hear me? I want you to keep this nice and hard for me. Can you be a good boy and do that? Even if it hurts? Even if it burns? Can you do that for me?”
JC, afraid to do anything to piss off the man who has him tied up and hard, nods. He takes a big breath.
“good boy,” the hand comes back down in the middle of his hair. It pets him softly, and JC wills himself to sit still, “Because I don’t like soft dicks. I do evil, evil things to soft dicks. I cut them off, I pierce them, I just do generally nasty things to them. And I do not want to do nasty things to you, JC. You’re going to have to understand that. If you do, then we’ll have a very, very good relationship. Aren’t we?”
JC nods again, and the hands push him backward until he’s against the wall, getting explored. His mouth parts softly as two fingers invade him slickly, sliding in deep with no hassle. The other hand strokes him softly.
Something’s wrong, though, because then a third hand comes in, rubbing him all over, plucking at his nipples and then reaching down and traveling over his tattoo, and further down, invading him as well. And things become completely different.
There’s more than one person in here with him.
There could be a whole audience of people in here with him. On the other side of the silken blindfold he’s wearing. He wriggles in his bonds and sighs and arches up further into the touch.
It doesn’t stop. It never seems to stop. There’s no sense of time in this room. Then they both leave. And he’s hard and straining and has been fucked time and time again and still only has pain to show for it.
They come back with water, x later. He opens his mouth and drinks like the helpless little boy he is. They pet him, feed him, untie him and let him stretch out for a while, undoing the Charlie horses and the soreness, but soon, he’s being tied up again, and this time, they bundle him tightly on his stomach. He tries to fight, but they manage to trump him.
“Want to see what you can do with that mouth of yours,” They say, and one pair of hands guides him to a cock, hot and hard, and JC shivers as they open his mouth, and fuck it hard. He tries to give good head, but it’s the last thing he’s thinking about while trying to catch his breath. He struggles, but in the middle of struggling, they untie him and tie him again, this time so that his thighs are spread open wide, and that is cock is pointing straight up, tied delicately through his nipple rings so that when it’s pulled gently by one while the other sucks on the head of his cock, the jolt of electricity goes all the way through him, penetrating even the deepest parts of him, the parts he’s never, ever found himself.
And the torture never stops , the untying and re-tying never stops, so that they can fuck him and, grope him, order him around. They blame it him for it. They say his body is too flexible to not test, and soon, they’re in the thick of it with him, all three of them forming a messy sex party with rope and hands and cocks, and the torture still does not stop, because they pull him backwards so that his wrists can be tied to his ankles and he has trouble breathing while one fucks him and one takes his dick and rides it hard. He’s shaking with denied orgasm, praying for quick relief that still doesn’t happen.
They allow him to come. It hurts, it burns, it leaves ashes in its wake, black noise and white spots behind his eyes, and as they untie him from the position, and tell him that they’re done with him, the relief comes out again, harder than it had before. He smiles.
And as they kiss him all over, pamper him, massage the soreness from his skin and lick at the rope born sores, he remembers why he agreed to this.
It’s kinda simple. And then, it’s kinda hard to explain.
One
Two.
Three.
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
JC’s life, as of the last few months, has been carved out into blocks of time. A concert here, an interview here, a sliver of a drink with a director there, hobnobbing here, photoshoot there, studio session here.
“It’s a fucking mess,” JC sighs over the phone. “I’ve got time off soon though. Coming back to LA. Gonna sit around and do absolutely fucking nothing for a month and it’s going to be the best time of my life and you’re gonna be right there with me, you hear?”
Justin smiles. Yeah. He can hear the haggardness of JC’s tone in his voice.
When JC comes home, he’s gotten another tattoo, one that follows in the same pattern as the marker scrawled across his hips, across his crotch. Justin imagines JC laying down at that chair, eyes closed as the word is carved permanently into his skin, holding the arm rests with his face turned away, grimacing in pain. Justin runs his tongue across the healed skin before taking JC’s cock in his mouth, JC’s hands powerfully in his hair, dominating him, controlling him, finding the pleasure he so often forgets out on the road.
Justin discovers easily that JC likes rope, because he ties Justin up in the most complex of knots and fucks him raw, the harsh texture of the rope wrapping down Justin’s cock and forbidding him to come. It’s like JC’s been a secret scholar of this as well, because every time that Justin moves his hands from their uncomfortable position, he cries out loud because the ripe around his cock pulls tighter, collapsing in on itself so that the pain spikes through him.
And his orgasm, glorious in itself, is a due process, where JC undoes his own knots and watches Justin flail and struggle to keep it inside as he unpeels Justin from the rope.
And this addiction grows, day after day until JC finds a book about knots at a second hand bookstore and gives it to Justin as a less than subtle hint. Justin reads through it, and recreates the knots that night all over JC’s body. Which, strangely, he loves, even as his whole torso is covered in rope.
That night, Justin ties JC’s legs to his shoulders, and creates a tight hard tie around JC’s cock and balls, with the knot between them so that he’s really uncomfortable, and Justin dives in and JC’s screaming with the force of his restraint, trying to move, trying to feel, eyes closed and body open but removed from the real world more than ever before. Justin smiles, and shoves himself even deeper into JC, shaking his hips from left to right and back again. JC’s laughing a few seconds later, struggling against himself and his bonds. JC’s tight body wriggles beautifully below Justin, and for a minute, he can understand JC’s new fetish, his love of being on top, his love of being dominant.
When JC finally does come, Justin removing the knots on his cock and his balls slowly as possible so that there’s no rough sting, JC jumps, his gimped body convulsing over and over again in seamless insanity while ropes of steamy white cum is taken away.
He doesn’t mind, either.
The next morning, JC ties Justin down to a straightback chair, arms down the high back, covered from elbow to wrist in rope and the same on his calves, down the legs of the chair. He smiles coyly at Justin as he walks away, and there’s nothing that Justin can do when JC leaves. Instead, Justin wriggles in the chair, trying to find an easy means to escape, but JC’s taped his fingers into hooves and tied them down to the chair, too, so that Justin can’t even flail.
When JC comes back, he doesn’t bother to blindfold Justin, but he does gag him. After, he goes straight for what he came for in the first place- Justin’s torso and Justin’s cock. His mouth fits easily around Justin’s cock, and his nails attack what is left of Justin’s body, arms and thighs and acres of milky white torso.
Justin whispers meekly, his eyes closing with pleasure that seems to run off his body in waves.
“Knew you’d want this,” JC whispers to him, and licks pathways from each of his nipples to Justin’s cock again, where he uses his tongue to spiral down on top of Justin’s cock. Justin sighs and bucks up into his mouth because he can’t use his hands to keep JC where he wants him to be.
JC shakes his head and backs off, backs all the way across the room and Justin tries to rip himself away from the chair.
“Don’t do that,” JC smiles again, and the selfish master is back, because he’s undressing and coming next to Justin. He walks around Justin’s chair evilly. “Wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable, now would we? No. Not at all. Especially when you look so good like that. My own little human chair, hmm? Can I sit? Wanna get off on it.”
Justin turns his head and looks away as much as he can with his body tied down.
“Oh, don’t be like that, baby. You’d want to, too, if you could see yourself,” JC smiles, parting his legs and sitting down on top of Justin, taking his time, his body stretching to accept Justin’s cock. He closes his eyes and gets comfortable, putting his hands on Justin’s shoulders.
“Mmm, yeah,” He says in a hot whisper. Justin sighs under the cloth of his gag. JC rides him hard, not only easing up and down but slamming up and down so that Justin can feel the sting on the back of his thighs as they attack the chair. JC’s moaning, using his hips to row, pleasing himself with Justin’s cock because he knows he’s taken away Justin’s ability to do so himself. Justin’s eyes close in pleasure because he has no clue of what else to do.
And when JC comes, it’s loud and long and lasts forever because he’s still riding Justin hard and not giving a fuck about it. He leans his head into Justin’s and uses his hips hard so that he can bear down on Justin until Justin’s screaming through the gag, shaking and trying desperately to escape the situation. He comes against his will, thighs quaking, body straining and arching to find all of JC’s body in his own.
When Justin tells Eva of what happens, she nods and says that JC told her before. She suggests that Justin find a way to get JC back for the little stunt in not-so-softcore bondage. Justin doesn’t know. But when she gives him something from the back of her car, a long, long chain attached to a collar, he looks at it and just can’t resist.
The next day, JC wakes with his hands bound behind his back, his legs bound to his thighs on cold, cold concrete, his head tilted backward and hands around his throat. He can’t see anything, silk tied around his eyes.
“Good, you’re awake,” his captor says simply. JC tries to strain against the hands, and as he struggles, he sobs out for breath. The hands leave his neck, they go into his hair.
“Shhh.”
“Who are you?” JC asks with a broken voice and lips that are a far cry from his perfect one that he wears on stage.
“You never seem to remember me when you’re just waking up.”
“Why?” JC asks.
“You can’t feel anything, either. Can you?”
While JC’s shaking his head, he goes stiff with pain. And finally, he feels it, he feels his solid and straining erection.
“Yeah. Yeah, I thought you could feel it.”
And JC moans, pulling himself away from his captor’s hands, struggling against his restraints, trying to escape from whatever he’s been tied to.
“You look so hot like that.”
JC turns away, but his captor feels everywhere. Standing up hurts and sitting down hurts just as badly and eventually his captor’s hands are down in his crotch, wrapping seductively around his cock, stroking up and down. JC’s body shivers as it curls up, struggling.
“I want you to keep this, you hear me? I want you to keep this nice and hard for me. Can you be a good boy and do that? Even if it hurts? Even if it burns? Can you do that for me?”
JC, afraid to do anything to piss off the man who has him tied up and hard, nods. He takes a big breath.
“good boy,” the hand comes back down in the middle of his hair. It pets him softly, and JC wills himself to sit still, “Because I don’t like soft dicks. I do evil, evil things to soft dicks. I cut them off, I pierce them, I just do generally nasty things to them. And I do not want to do nasty things to you, JC. You’re going to have to understand that. If you do, then we’ll have a very, very good relationship. Aren’t we?”
JC nods again, and the hands push him backward until he’s against the wall, getting explored. His mouth parts softly as two fingers invade him slickly, sliding in deep with no hassle. The other hand strokes him softly.
Something’s wrong, though, because then a third hand comes in, rubbing him all over, plucking at his nipples and then reaching down and traveling over his tattoo, and further down, invading him as well. And things become completely different.
There’s more than one person in here with him.
There could be a whole audience of people in here with him. On the other side of the silken blindfold he’s wearing. He wriggles in his bonds and sighs and arches up further into the touch.
It doesn’t stop. It never seems to stop. There’s no sense of time in this room. Then they both leave. And he’s hard and straining and has been fucked time and time again and still only has pain to show for it.
They come back with water, x later. He opens his mouth and drinks like the helpless little boy he is. They pet him, feed him, untie him and let him stretch out for a while, undoing the Charlie horses and the soreness, but soon, he’s being tied up again, and this time, they bundle him tightly on his stomach. He tries to fight, but they manage to trump him.
“Want to see what you can do with that mouth of yours,” They say, and one pair of hands guides him to a cock, hot and hard, and JC shivers as they open his mouth, and fuck it hard. He tries to give good head, but it’s the last thing he’s thinking about while trying to catch his breath. He struggles, but in the middle of struggling, they untie him and tie him again, this time so that his thighs are spread open wide, and that is cock is pointing straight up, tied delicately through his nipple rings so that when it’s pulled gently by one while the other sucks on the head of his cock, the jolt of electricity goes all the way through him, penetrating even the deepest parts of him, the parts he’s never, ever found himself.
And the torture never stops , the untying and re-tying never stops, so that they can fuck him and, grope him, order him around. They blame it him for it. They say his body is too flexible to not test, and soon, they’re in the thick of it with him, all three of them forming a messy sex party with rope and hands and cocks, and the torture still does not stop, because they pull him backwards so that his wrists can be tied to his ankles and he has trouble breathing while one fucks him and one takes his dick and rides it hard. He’s shaking with denied orgasm, praying for quick relief that still doesn’t happen.
They allow him to come. It hurts, it burns, it leaves ashes in its wake, black noise and white spots behind his eyes, and as they untie him from the position, and tell him that they’re done with him, the relief comes out again, harder than it had before. He smiles.
And as they kiss him all over, pamper him, massage the soreness from his skin and lick at the rope born sores, he remembers why he agreed to this.
It’s kinda simple. And then, it’s kinda hard to explain.
One
Two.
Three.
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen