The young man glared at his teacher as he pointed to the top of the gleaming oak credenza that now sat, thanks to his own strength, in the center of the room about three feet from the tall mirror he had been posing in. "What?" was all that he could bring himself to say as he tried to process what was happening.
"Here, I want you to lay back here, over my credenza. You are a sight to behold young Mr. Grayson and I plan to continue my enjoyment of you here, while you're lying on my cabinet. Now, if you would please." The portly fellow directed him, still pointing to the folded cape.
Slowly the young hero moved to the credenza and sat at the end facing the mirror. He could see his torso glistening in the sparse afternoon sunlight that now cut a pattern lower through the drawn drapes. The oil that the professor had lavished on his gleamed as he sat. His legs were splayed slightly to each side of the finely built file cabinet.
"Here, slide up here, closer to the top, and if you would please, lay back. I have folded your cape as a pillow, I know the surface must feel hard." The hold man grabbed a handful of the left bicep and helped the young student slide back up the piece of furniture until his taught buttocks rested nearly in the middle of the surface top. Smiling slightly, while still enjoying the hard muscle flexing in his hand, he began to guide the athlete into a fully prone position.
Reclining back, the young hero began to feel completely dominated. The man was now positioning him exactly as he wanted, almost as a display object lain over furniture in his office. As he reclined, he tried to steady himself by placing one leg on either side of the cabinet. Due to the width of the surface his feet barely touched the floor and as he pointed his toes downward to steady himself, the beautiful musculature of his perfectly shaped legs began to rise through his tights. There was an uncomfortable tightness in his large gluts and lower back as the surface remained unyielding.
"You truly are flawless Mr. Grayson. I admire the definition in your legs. So many young bodybuilders ignore their legs to focus efforts on their upper torso." Running a single finger through the deeply ridged abdominals, over the left side of the taut green briefs and into the valleys of the quads now on display before him the older man allowed a wicked smile to cross his face as his young prey raised his head off the wooden surface to stare defiantly at him. "Please, place your hands over your head. I'd like to see your biceps bunch and flex for me once again."
The young hero complied with the order. He had seen the possessive look that was now appearing on his professor's face in those of some of the villains he had faced in his crime-fighting career. Wanting this experience to pass quickly and hoping that by following orders he could still rationalize with the old man, he slowly raised his hands up behind his head. The ridges of his biceps again popped and the baseball-sized perfection of them seemed to please the man who gaped down at him.
The older man moved to the end of the credenza, above the young studs head and gingerly lifted the bottle of massage oil up over the massive torso that lay before him. With a slight squeeze a jet of oil began to pour down onto the tanned, taut skin. He watched the oil pooling in the muscular valleys and running in rivulets down over the sides of the masculine young student. Taking further liberties, he allowed his hands to run slowly up and down over the beefcake before him, feeling every ridge and working the oil into every inch of the torso, up through the shaved armpits and over the bunched biceps. Breathing in the scent of the young man, knowing that he was fighting the urge to retaliate he smiled down upon him, "I so enjoy feeling this oil coat you my young Adonis. Are you comfortable?"
"Are we nearly done here professor?" The young man said in a respectful tone, attempting to end the worship session his professor had started without triggering too severe a reaction in the entranced older man. He moved his arms down to his sides and began to gently rise from the oil-slicked surface of the furniture.
Placing a hand firmly on the right pectoral the professor forcefully pushed against the rising stallion. He knew he didn't have the strength to overpower him but his afternoon duties were nowhere near finished. "Lay down, you're going nowhere!" Reaching for the utility belt in a motion more deft than he had displayed all afternoon with his free hand he grabbed the Bat-cuffs and hooked them through a brass ring located just to the end of the furniture, above the dark haired boys head.
The hero tilted his head back, noticing the metal on metal sound as the titanium cuffs locked securely into the now closed brass manacle. "What are you..."
His professor, whose hand continued a somewhat firm pressure on his chest in an attempt to keep him in place. cut him off. "Shh, relax." With a half lustful yet fully domineering sneer he looked the green eyed boy square in the eye and said, "Robin, please ask me to put your wrists in the handcuffs and secure you to my table top."
"Okay, I have had enough!" The boy again moved to raise himself off from the display table and leave the weird old man's office.
"Don't tempt me Mr. Grayson. You will do as I say or you will face the consequences. I swear that to you!" The old man held the younger's stare for a long moment. Unyielding in both his demand and his desire, he awaited a response.
Grayson, beaten not by strength or skill of combat but rather by cunning and his own innocence, he had no choice but to again lay back. His soulful green eyes looked through his mask and up at his once trusted professor and with a slight plead of mercy in his tone he gave his captor what he wanted. "Professor, put my wrists in the cuffs."
For his part, since seeing the young man stripped to the waist the older man had been aroused but now, forcing him to submit to being restrained was heightening his desire to complete his plan. There was no turning back now as he reached for the left wrist and yanked the hand again up over the full head of wavy black hair and slid it into the open titanium cuff. Ratcheting the cuff closed securely around the gloved wrist he allowed himself a moment to again feel the substantial musculature of the now restrained bicep as it bent before him. Leaning over the hero he smiled into the handsome face as he reached for the right wrist, pulling it up over the head and taking pleasure in locking it too tightly into the cuffs.
The professor lazily walked along the right side of the boy who followed him with his eyes and stood at the foot of the credenza. Staring over the contours of perfection that stood out in oiled relief before him he watched as his subject lifted his head to look at him.
"Are you happy now?" The young stud asked as he pulled on his trussed wrists, flexing his arms in his own cuffs.
Through the rattling metal the older man, with a smile on his face said, "You will make me happy Robin. Very happy indeed!"
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