So this was supposed to be the last of chapter 3, but nope, there will be one more after this.
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It turned out Max had quite the playroom underneath the shop. The shop itself now had a 'Closed' sign in front of the window, and it was just the two of them down here. The basement was filled with strange furniture that reminded Bucky of drawings of torture devices he had seen in a book as a child once.
He could see his own hand, smaller then and eager turn the pages...
No, stop.
He allowed himself one brief moment of joy for remembering something from his childhood, then tucked the memory away for later, so no more of it could be tainted by what he was about to do here.
It struck Bucky the man he was with might be a sociopath, and kill him down here. No one would ever know. So what, said a voice in his head, you get to cum or you get to die, either way you get some peace.
Bucky pulled his hood off, giving Max a good look at his face. He could tell from his expression that he was pleased.
"God, you're beautiful," Max breathed as he put his hand under Bucky's chin. Bucky responded by moving his mouth to Max' hand, taking his thumb in his mouth. He sucked it like it was a cock, bobbing his head, and felt himself react to it instantly. He made eye contact with Max while he was sucking, and saw pure unadulterated lust in the other man's eyes.
If he had ever hoped to avert this, it was too late now. He'd stay in this makeshift dungeon and let this stranger do anything to him...anything at all. And that was the intention, after all, wasn't it? To lose himself to someone's rough touches, so he could stop having to do it himself.
He sunk to his knees, still clothed, his thighs spread apart. He folded his hands behind his head, like he'd do if someone had a gun on him: a sign of surrender. He lowered his gaze, waiting for whatever was coming.
His face was now at Max' crotch level, and he could smell the arousal. He loathed it. The scent of male arousal disgusted him, but yet he felt a conditioned need he could not fight, and he knew that cock would be in his mouth soon enough, regardless of how he really felt about it.
"What do I call you, anyway?"
"My name is James. Some call me Soldier. But you can call me whatever you want, Sir."
He could see Max' bulge grow. He liked Sir, then. That would be convenient. Sir worked quite well for Bucky. He was used to it after all.
Bucky could feel calloused fingers entwine with his hair and pull at it roughly. He gasped, but didn't move from his position.
"I think I'll call you Fuckdoll, James. You look like a Fuckdoll to me."
Bucky simply looked up to him and nodded, still feeling the pull on his hair.
"So what's your safeword, Fuckdoll?"
Bucky just gave him a confused look.
"God, you are new. It's a word you use when you want me to stop what I'm doing."
"What's wrong with just 'stop'?"
"Nothing," Max said and his grip loosened slightly, "it's just that some people don't actually mean 'stop' when they say it. But they still need a way to make it stop sometimes. So they say the word. Do you understand that, James? It's important that you do."
Bucky nodded. He did understand it. And it sounded like the best idea ever.
"Pierce," he managed. "My word is Pierce."
Max' grip on his hair tightened again.
"Good boy. You'll learning fast. I'll go easy on you."
"Please don't, Sir."
Max released his grip on his hair, and then Bucky was backhanded unexpectedly. It wasn't really that hard, but the surprise made him cry out.
"Did you just talk back to me, Fuckdoll?"
"Yes," Bucky spat.
"Max' hand landed on the other side of his face. This time it actually stung. Bucky's eyes teared up, more from humiliation than pain, but he looked at Max defiantly.
"Now whatever made you think that was a good idea?" Max asked as he forced Bucky's face up to look at him.
"I don't want you to go easy on me, Sir. " Bucky replied, despite watering eyes. "I can take it hard. I need it hard."
Bucky couldn't believe the words coming out of his own mouth, but yet there they were, spoken in desperation, driven by pure physical need. He didn't care anymore. He'd let this man abuse him in any damn way he pleased it if would lead to an orgasm.
Max released his grip fully.
"Strip," he ordered, and Bucky did so. It was a clumsy process, trying to do it kneeling down, but he managed.
Once naked, he covered his left shoulder with his right hand - a strange, almost chaste gesture. Max was unsurprisingly taken back by the sight of a metal arm, but to his credit he didn't look put off by it. There was a softening in his demeanor even through his arousal, and Bucky thought he should probably act fast as he could, before it devolved into pity. Because really, pity was not something he could work with here.
"Hence the Soldier," he explained - and lied, but only by omission. "I'm ex-military. Let's not talk about it." Then, realizing he was being forceful while he was supposed to be submissive, he added: "Please, Sir. It ruins the mood".
Bucky felt calloused fingers stroke his hair and then his cheek. The gentleness of it surprised him.
"It's okay, kid. I don't need to know. I can make you get out of your head if you need to."
Bucky leaned into the soft touch. A part of him - a part that ran deeper than the arousal and the anger - wanted to be touched like that forever. He longed for someone's arms around him, cherishing him, telling his it's going to be okay. Only it was not okay. It was never going to be okay again . And who was going to love him if this was he only way...the only way he could...
He swallowed a sob.
"Thank you, Sir."
Max' hand tightened around Bucky's hair again. He closed his eyes. He could hear the sound of pants being unbuttoned and a zipper opening. The sound itself was enough to bring shivers down his spine. It had been ingrained in his memory over decades, and no amount of wiping his brain could remove it. It meant there was no escape for him. The inevitable would soon happen. He'd be fucked in any way the other man deemed fitting.
Bucky could smell the muskiness when Max' cock sprung free from its pants. He opened his eyes again. Max's erection was barely an inch removed from his lips. The man was thick and large. This was going to be unpleasant.
Good.
"Do you want my cock, Fuckdoll?" the man standing over him asked.
"No, Sir," he replied truthfully, "but that's sort of the point."
That was the last thing he could say before a cock was shoved in his mouth, and down his throat.
Tainted Touch 3e/?
---
It turned out Max had quite the playroom underneath the shop. The shop itself now had a 'Closed' sign in front of the window, and it was just the two of them down here. The basement was filled with strange furniture that reminded Bucky of drawings of torture devices he had seen in a book as a child once.
He could see his own hand, smaller then and eager turn the pages...
No, stop.
He allowed himself one brief moment of joy for remembering something from his childhood, then tucked the memory away for later, so no more of it could be tainted by what he was about to do here.
It struck Bucky the man he was with might be a sociopath, and kill him down here. No one would ever know. So what, said a voice in his head, you get to cum or you get to die, either way you get some peace.
Bucky pulled his hood off, giving Max a good look at his face. He could tell from his expression that he was pleased.
"God, you're beautiful," Max breathed as he put his hand under Bucky's chin. Bucky responded by moving his mouth to Max' hand, taking his thumb in his mouth. He sucked it like it was a cock, bobbing his head, and felt himself react to it instantly. He made eye contact with Max while he was sucking, and saw pure unadulterated lust in the other man's eyes.
If he had ever hoped to avert this, it was too late now. He'd stay in this makeshift dungeon and let this stranger do anything to him...anything at all. And that was the intention, after all, wasn't it? To lose himself to someone's rough touches, so he could stop having to do it himself.
He sunk to his knees, still clothed, his thighs spread apart. He folded his hands behind his head, like he'd do if someone had a gun on him: a sign of surrender. He lowered his gaze, waiting for whatever was coming.
His face was now at Max' crotch level, and he could smell the arousal. He loathed it. The scent of male arousal disgusted him, but yet he felt a conditioned need he could not fight, and he knew that cock would be in his mouth soon enough, regardless of how he really felt about it.
"What do I call you, anyway?"
"My name is James. Some call me Soldier. But you can call me whatever you want, Sir."
He could see Max' bulge grow. He liked Sir, then. That would be convenient. Sir worked quite well for Bucky. He was used to it after all.
Bucky could feel calloused fingers entwine with his hair and pull at it roughly. He gasped, but didn't move from his position.
"I think I'll call you Fuckdoll, James. You look like a Fuckdoll to me."
Bucky simply looked up to him and nodded, still feeling the pull on his hair.
"So what's your safeword, Fuckdoll?"
Bucky just gave him a confused look.
"God, you are new. It's a word you use when you want me to stop what I'm doing."
"What's wrong with just 'stop'?"
"Nothing," Max said and his grip loosened slightly, "it's just that some people don't actually mean 'stop' when they say it. But they still need a way to make it stop sometimes. So they say the word. Do you understand that, James? It's important that you do."
Bucky nodded. He did understand it. And it sounded like the best idea ever.
"Pierce," he managed. "My word is Pierce."
Max' grip on his hair tightened again.
"Good boy. You'll learning fast. I'll go easy on you."
"Please don't, Sir."
Max released his grip on his hair, and then Bucky was backhanded unexpectedly. It wasn't really that hard, but the surprise made him cry out.
"Did you just talk back to me, Fuckdoll?"
"Yes," Bucky spat.
"Max' hand landed on the other side of his face. This time it actually stung. Bucky's eyes teared up, more from humiliation than pain, but he looked at Max defiantly.
"Now whatever made you think that was a good idea?" Max asked as he forced Bucky's face up to look at him.
"I don't want you to go easy on me, Sir. " Bucky replied, despite watering eyes. "I can take it hard. I need it hard."
Bucky couldn't believe the words coming out of his own mouth, but yet there they were, spoken in desperation, driven by pure physical need. He didn't care anymore. He'd let this man abuse him in any damn way he pleased it if would lead to an orgasm.
Max released his grip fully.
"Strip," he ordered, and Bucky did so. It was a clumsy process, trying to do it kneeling down, but he managed.
Once naked, he covered his left shoulder with his right hand - a strange, almost chaste gesture. Max was unsurprisingly taken back by the sight of a metal arm, but to his credit he didn't look put off by it. There was a softening in his demeanor even through his arousal, and Bucky thought he should probably act fast as he could, before it devolved into pity. Because really, pity was not something he could work with here.
"Hence the Soldier," he explained - and lied, but only by omission. "I'm ex-military. Let's not talk about it." Then, realizing he was being forceful while he was supposed to be submissive, he added: "Please, Sir. It ruins the mood".
Bucky felt calloused fingers stroke his hair and then his cheek. The gentleness of it surprised him.
"It's okay, kid. I don't need to know. I can make you get out of your head if you need to."
Bucky leaned into the soft touch. A part of him - a part that ran deeper than the arousal and the anger - wanted to be touched like that forever. He longed for someone's arms around him, cherishing him, telling his it's going to be okay. Only it was not okay. It was never going to be okay again . And who was going to love him if this was he only way...the only way he could...
He swallowed a sob.
"Thank you, Sir."
Max' hand tightened around Bucky's hair again. He closed his eyes. He could hear the sound of pants being unbuttoned and a zipper opening. The sound itself was enough to bring shivers down his spine. It had been ingrained in his memory over decades, and no amount of wiping his brain could remove it. It meant there was no escape for him. The inevitable would soon happen. He'd be fucked in any way the other man deemed fitting.
Bucky could smell the muskiness when Max' cock sprung free from its pants. He opened his eyes again. Max's erection was barely an inch removed from his lips. The man was thick and large. This was going to be unpleasant.
Good.
"Do you want my cock, Fuckdoll?" the man standing over him asked.
"No, Sir," he replied truthfully, "but that's sort of the point."
That was the last thing he could say before a cock was shoved in his mouth, and down his throat.