Tied and Denied; Birthday Gift

We weren’t partners, but we might as well have been. Tom and I had been engaging in hot, kinky sex for longer than most people are in relationships. Sure, we had others that we screwed around with, but there was something that drew us back to each other.
For me at least, the fact that he was a hairy, built Italian stud didn’t hurt one bit. The wavy, thinning black hair, large nose and muscle-packed body were only the start. Despite the fact that his crotch looked like it was stuffed with a ruby red grapefruit, he was a total bottom and trust me, that side was incredibly hot as well. He was kinky, all right; but I was a total fetish man with a list of kinks as long as a phone book. He did his best to cater to my fetishes, as I did to his. We were perfect for each other.
We always pampered each other for our birthdays; his in November and mine in August. He had invited me to his huge old Victorian for a festive dinner for two and what a spread it was. Single malt Scotch with sweet onion dip for cocktails, a French Chablis with shrimp and crab bisque, Bordeaux blend with the Lamb and Cristal with the dark chocolate torte. It was a feast not atypical of our birthday fetes.
He seemed unusually giddy that evening. I assumed it was because he was anxious for the after party, but it was like he was keeping some exciting secret; so when we left the table and he took my hand, I expected him to lead me upstairs as usual. I was taken by surprise when he took me through the kitchen to the basement stairs. He stopped by the door, kissing me passionately. Opening it, he motioned to the stairs. “Go on,” he exclaimed, a shit-eating grin on his face. I looked at him with a confused expression on my face. “You’ll find it.” He leaned in close to my ear; “Happy Birthday, stud.” With that he turned and left.
Baffled, I descended the creaky stairs, stopping as I reached the concrete floor at the bottom. Tom’s home was massive and old, so the basement, typical of the period, was unfinished, used primarily for storage. Reflective of the size of the floor plan, it was a rabbit’s warren of rooms; dank and musty, but fortunately, despite the early August heat, cool. Pausing for a moment, I heard…something. I couldn’t quite make it out, but there was definitely a sound coming from somewhere in that maze of rooms and hallways.
Slowly I proceeded through the dimly lit space, the only light coming from the occasional bare bulb. It was late enough in the evening that the rapidly dimming light coming in through the tiny basement windows was little help navigating the halls. Following the sound, I proceeded down yet another long, dark passageway. Ahead was a storage room on the left. It had originally been part of a larger space, but was cordoned off with wood framing filled in with chicken wire. The door, also wood with the same chicken wire, was past the room at the end.
By this point, I could definitely tell that the sound was coming from inside this space. It was the sound of a man moaning and struggling. He sounded as if he was gagged in some way, but although there was only the wire mesh between me and where he was, it was dark inside and I could see nothing through it. I went to the creaky door, opening it with bated anticipation.
Entering the space I struggled to see anything as my eyes hadn’t adjusted to the almost total lack of light, the only illumination coming through the mesh from a single bare bulb in the hall outside. The first section of the room was lined with shelves filled with various items. Motion to my left quickly drew my attention to what lay in the far half of the room against the far wall. Just past a large post against the wall in the center of the space was what appeared to be a cot. Atop that, something was moving; squirming in the darkness. I moved toward it, my breath ragged.
As I approached, I still could see very little with the severe lack of light. I reached into my pocket, retrieving my phone, using it to illuminate the space. What I saw was…amazing. The hazel orbs encased in that beautiful, suffering face, immediately rotated, closing his pupils against the sudden intrusion of bright light. His pale, lightly freckled face was reddened from stress, his puffy eyes tearing against the strain of his predicament.
He was a work of art; a young man of no more than 22. His light brown hair was cut very short, parted on the right. His thin nose had a slight ski-slope. A massive black leather gag covered his mouth, the plug on the other side almost totally impeding his ability to communicate. He lay face down on the cot, his arms fastened behind his back by a pair of leather cuffs with a solid chain and padlocks securing them. His ankles were spread, chained to opposite sides of the small cot. He was dressed in a white t-shirt and jeans.
Moving the light down his restrained body, I noticed that a pair of dark, plain label jeans encased what had to be the most beautiful bubble butt I had ever seen. His ass and thighs were something Rembrandt would have painted, hugged by a denim encasement that was almost painted on. The seat seam parted his globes like hemispheres, sinking into his ass crack seductively. Staring at that thing of beauty, I heard him grimace, his body pulling violently against his restraints as he blubbered incoherently into the gag covering his mouth.
He farted violently, the taut denim fabric beginning to move as his asshole opened, a hard lump pushing the tight encasement outward; his screams of protest doing nothing to stop the growing bulge. The smell of his accident began to permeate the room. As it hit my nostrils, I began to think of the adage that some people think their shit don’t stink. In this particular instance, it was completely true. The bowel movement stretching his tight jeans outward didn’t reek in any way; it had a rich, heady stench of just turned earth and must, faintly smelling of rich shit. It was an intoxicating odor.
Leaning down, I moved in to his beautiful face. His breath was ragged, pale skin reddened from strain. His nostrils flared as he breathed heavily. I moved in to his right ear, whispering seductively. “Baby, did you just shit yourself?” I ran my left hand down his restrained, struggling arms as he screamed through the gag, “MMMM HMMMMM!” Continuing downward, I ran my hand onto his supple, firm buttocks, finding the ample bulge and cupping it with my palm. He reared back in defiance at my violation of his accident, my hand resting against his freshly defiled jeans.
“Do you want me to let you go?” I whispered into his ear. “MMM…..MMM HMMMMM”! I was greatly amused by this, my hand still resting on the substantial bulge in his rear end. “Oh, no, baby. That’s not going to happen. You’re way too hot like this.” I squeezed on the lump in his ass as I jammed my tongue into his ear, his head trying to jerk away from the wet intrusion.
His struggle intensified as he reared back, tugging against his bonds with renewed energy, my hand still resting on his bulging backside. I felt a blast of heat as he fired a massive fart through the load already embedded in his rear. The lump encased within began to grow again as he groaned loudly, pushing yet another log into his already stuffed underwear, my hand moving along with it. His body jerked violently against the restraints as he fouled himself again, my head spinning with the scene unfolding in front of me. It was the most intense thing I had ever experienced, this raging bull fighting with every ounce of strength against the loss of control, his total helplessness to stop it fueling my raging hard-on.
The noises coming from under the massive gag seemed to be begging me to undo his restraints. He was obviously very uncomfortable with a massive dump pressing against his luscious buns and was protesting loudly, although unintelligibly through the gag. Reaching under him with my right hand, I pressed firmly on his bladder, hoping he also had to piss at this point. Although he groaned in protest, nothing happened. Leaning in, I whispered into his ear, “That’s okay. It’s going to happen sooner or later. We’ll try again in a few hours.”
He screamed in protest against that statement as I turned and walked to the other side of the store room, sitting in an old office chair and dozing off. I must have been out for some time, suddenly jerking into consciousness. Tom was standing over me. In the background, the young man was fighting with renewed desperation, his bladder in obvious need of release. My Italian stud walked over, reaching under the restrained lad and pushing forcefully on his bladder, causing the bound boy to scream in pain as he released, urine flooding his jeans and pooling on the vinyl mattress of the cot, the excess spilling over the edge pooling on the dirty floor.
As our restrained prisoner pissed himself, Tom walked back to me, lifting me out of my chair and kissing me with renewed passion. “Did you have a happy birthday, stud?” “Oh yeah, baby,” I replied. Looking over at the thoroughly messed young man restrained in front of us, I asked, “Who is he? He’s magnificent.” “Just somebody I found on Grindr. He needed money for school so he agreed to do anything necessary for tuition.” I ground into my Italian hunk in gratitude. He looked into my eyes and, with a sense of pride in his accomplishment said, “Well he doesn’t have to be back for the next semester for almost two weeks, so he’s ours to do with whatever we want.”
As I groaned in ecstasy, our well-paid, restrained young bull moaned in the background, realizing there was much more in store for him…

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Responses

  1. This story is a combination of a dream I had just last night of a man tied on a cot in a basement, shitting himself and me feeling him up, and the experience of a young man at the coffee shop this morning with one of the hottest bubble butts I have ever seen. I figured, why not. Put them both together and see what happens. Cheers and enjoy.

  2. Oh goodness, welcome back! That is one hot scenario. Love it. In fact after the ending I would love to see a part 2 😉

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