the player - something dark, moody . . . not the
usual trippy techno stuff I usually used . . . The music filled the space
as I opened my toy cupboard and selected a pair of heavy, padded leather
wrist restraints.
I turned and, still in the darkness, regarded Teague. No more than 5'7",
completely hairless except for a dusting of hair above his dick, not an
ounce of fat apparent anywhere, lightly muscled and pale white skin; so
pale it was almost blue.
"Come away from the wall and turn around," I commanded. He obeyed, placing
his hands behind his back and standing `at ease', staring straight ahead.
I came up behind him and fastened the cuffs around his wrists, brought his
hands `round the front of his body and connected the cuffs together. Coming
`round in frontof him, I stared into his eyes.
"Dirty-fuck . . ." I murmured.
The hint of a smirk creased the corners of his mouth: I drew back my arm
and gave a back-hander across his too-cute face. Before he had time to
recover from the blow, I reached up and pulled down the end of a thick
corded nylon rope - red and black like his horny fuckin' boots - connected
to a pulley hanging from the open beams. I clipped the cuffs to the loop in
the end of the rope, pulled the other end of the rope and pulled his bound
hands well above his head, stretching him upright onto the balls of his
feet.
"Dirty-fuck," I repeated.
I hawked up phlegm and gobbed it into his face. The viscous slime trickled
down his cheek. He remained stoic,