Page 39 of B is for Beg

“If we take it slow and communicate…” Cal begins.

I scratch my beard. “I have had sex with a sub who was bound and wearing a ball gag.”

Blake’s expression brightens, his lips curling into an excited smile.

“We used a bell to communicate,” I explain. “So he could still use the equivalent of a safe word if he needed to.” I stare into Blake’s eyes. “You will safe word, won’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy, I promise.”

I look to Cal, who nods.

“All right,” I say. “But first you’ll need to get undressed.”

Blake pauses for a moment. “Aren’t you both going to get naked too?”

“You were told to undress,” Cal says in a stern tone.

Neither of us moves to undress.

“Sorry, Sir.” Blake starts to strip, his fingers fumbling with his shirt buttons as if he’s not used to wearing one. Before long, he’s standing in front of us in nothing but a burgundy lace jockstrap. He runs his thumb under the thick band of lace over his hip. “This too?”

“You can leave that on,” Cal says.

I nod in agreement. A jockstrap won’t stop us from fucking him, and I love the way lace looks on him.

“You look like a princess when you wear satin or lace,” Cal says.

“I like to feel pretty,” Blake replies. He dips his chin and flutters his lashes coquettishly.

Cal runs his hands over the lacy sides of the jockstrap. “You look very pretty, princess.” He moves his hand to the front of the jockstrap, which is cotton rather than lace, and cups Blake’s cock through the fabric. “So fucking pretty.”

Blake gasps and leans against Cal’s chest. “I like it when you touch me, Sir.”

“You like this?” he rubs his hand back and forth, squeezing slightly.

“Oh, yes, Sir.”

Blood rushes to my groin as I watch them. I’ve seen people touching, playing, and fucking plenty of times, but this is different. Watching Cal fondle our boy is much more of a turn-on.Our boy. I like the sound of that.

Still watching them, I undress and stand, stroking my cock. I wait until Blake’s dick is hard and barely contained by the jockstrap. A dark spot appears on the fabric, blooming like a flower opening in spring. Blake is panting, and there’s a big, hungry grin on Cal’s lips. He makes eye contact with me, and I mouth “soon.” He drops his hand from Blake’s crotch.

“Why’d you stop, Sir?” Blake asks.

“Because it’s time for your Daddy to tie you up, princess.”

A visible shudder runs through Blake’s body. He bites his lip and stares at the rope in my hands. I’m busy gazing at Cal. I hadn’t expected to hear ‘Daddy’ slip past his lips.

“Gabe?” Cal says. “You are going to tie our boy up, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

He steps away so I can get to work. I’ll need his help soon, but for now, he can stand and watch.

I start by making a chest harness, with Blake’s arms pulled behind his back, like I did on Thursday. I work slowly and methodically, each knot I tie nullifying any underlying tension in my body. My worries about how Cal and I will navigate this turn in our friendship drift away. There’s nothing but me, the rope, and the knots.

Next, I create a harness around Blake’s hips and the tops of his thighs, careful of the rope placement. His eyes are half-closed as I work.

“How are you feeling?” I ask.