Basil wasn’t altogether surprised when the phone rang – it tended to at least once most weeks. “Oh, hi Dan.” He listened for a while. “Certainly,” he said at length. “What time?” He listened again.“Usual arrangements?” He nodded, “Ok, see you on Tuesday.” and replaced the handset on its cradle.
After a few minutes’ social chat and a drink downstairs with Dan, Basil raised his eyebrows inquiringly. “So – tell me about this one.”
Dan crossed a booted leg over one knee, making his horsehide leather jeans creak, and lit a cigar. The blue smoke wafted around his head. “He’s a top.”
Basil’s eyebrows rose even further.
Dan nodded. “Started emailing a few weeks ago. Said he loved the way I looked – ‘cocky, authoritative and arrogant’, he said - and that he’d love to get me strapped down and make me cum helplessly, as he put it. He gets off on taking other tops down, it seems.”
The eyebrows now looked like they were in danger of sliding off the top of Basil’s head completely – To him, Dan was about as Top as it was possible to get. He was over six feet, all muscle, and looked like he’d been born in leather. Boys queued up to lick Dan’s boots, they did not strap him down. “So what did you say?”
“I said that the only way he’d be doing that to me was if he didn’t cum in my playroom first.”
Basil narrowed his eyes and smiled cunningly. “Those were your words?”
“My exact words.”
“And he accepted.”
“He did.”
Basil nodded. An unusual assignment, but interesting nevertheless. “Very well. Now, quick, or slow?”
Dan thought about this – both had their points of interest. “As quick as you can.”
Basil smiled, and nodded again. “Well, shall we get started?”
Dan stood, and led the way upstairs.
He liked Dan’s place. A proper dungeon, he thought. Not like some of those stainless-steel-and-plastic places he sometimes found himself in. Real oak beams, and restraints that looked like they’d been used in the Inquisition.
Tied to a whipping post to one side of the room was a figure in full black leather. Ropes around his chest, thighs and legs held him immovably to the wooden post, and his wrists were cuffed behind it. A leather bandanna was tied around his head, covering his eyes and hanging down to his mouth. His balls and his hard cock stuck out of the fly of his leather jeans.
“Remove the blindfold, please.”
Dan took the bandanna off, and the guy stared. “What the fuck?”
Basil sat down on the small chair Dan had placed in front of the guy.
The guy on the post was still staring, wide-eyed. “Get him out of –Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!”
Basil had taken the guy’s cock into his mouth and had started to suck.
Twenty-five seconds later he was swallowing the spunk – and there was much of it.
“Nice doing business with you again, Dan,” smiled Basil, folding the notes and putting them in his pocket.
He breathed in the fresh air and considered getting a taxi.
No - it was a nice night for a walk. He’d have a swift one in the pub before going home, he decided.
The woman elbowed her husband in the side, and pointed. “I think Dracula’s arrived,” she whispered.
Her husband Dave turned his head to look.
Sitting on his own was a guy who must have been in his eighties – at least. The few remaining strands of his thin, dirty-brown hair were combed over an otherwise completely bald head; his eyes were narrow and dull; his protruding nose was beak-like, with hairs sprouting out of it; his colourless lips were thin; and his skin was blotched. He was as skinny as a rake, with arms like matchsticks, and his shirt and jacket both hung off his seedy frame as if they were trying to disown him.
“Poor bastard.” He went back to his beer.
Basil Grimethorpe had noticed the couple looking at him, but he was used to it. A corner of his mouth twitched and he permitted himself a single, quiet chuckle before he, too, returned his attention to his beer. He liked the feel of folded banknotes bulging in his pocket.
On the table where he’d put them, his false teeth grinned at everyone malevolently.