Trapped in the Outback Pt. 02

He opened the door to one of the other rooms and disappeared. I craned my head as far back as it would go, but even at that angle, couldn't see anything.

"Deacon!" I shouted. "Mate, what are you doing?"

There was the noise of drawers opening and things being moved around, during which my smartwatch vibrated, no doubt to tell me my heart rate was now in the healthy exercise zone. Then I heard footsteps as he came back. He walked around the table so that I could see him, and gazed down at me. A pair of handcuffs dangled from his left hand.

"Do you want to see?" he asked.

"See what?"

"See her. My ex."

He swung his hand against his leg, and the chain-rattle of the handcuffs sent another spike of fear through me. There was no more fear boner.

"Let me up," I said. "Now, Deacon. Now!" I wrenched at the ropes. "Now!"

"Sure," he said matter-of-factly. "Why not?"

He crouched at the right side of the table and untied my right wrist. As soon as he freed my arm, I rolled away from him and crouched on the other side of the table, doing my best to work my left wrist free.

He straightened up and watched me with an amused smile.

While I was fumbling with the knot, he strode over to the corner of the room where he kept his sports equipment and picked up the baseball bat.

I fought his knot with fingers cramped from reduced blood supply, while he swung the bat, then dropped it back in the corner. He picked up the golf club, running a finger over the curved metal head.

He positioned the photo of his ex on the far arm of the couch, and I fell onto my arse in shock as he swung the golf club, sending the heavy photo frame crashing into the opposite wall.

I came back to a crouch, still tethered to the table, as he strolled back to me. As I finally got the knot undone, he stood the golf club against the floor and leaned on it to watch me.

He dangled the handcuffs at me. "You going to let me put these on you, or are we going to add a number four to the game for the guy who comes after you?"

I shook my head as I did up the button on my jeans with trembling hands.

"You know I'm not letting you walk out that door."

I ignored him, jerking at the zip too hard, jamming it. I tugged at it again and finally got it to mesh, and pulled it up. I pushed my hands into my pockets, and then looked around for my boots.

"Ah yes, your boots. You're not going to get far without them," said Deacon.

They were nowhere to be seen. I started for the doors at the rear of the cottage to look for them and he stepped in front of me.

"Uh, no. You want your boots back, you let me cuff you."

I spun around and headed for the front door.

"Jaxon, come on, don't be an idiot. This is Australia, mate. Apart from the fact it's bloody cold out there, this is Australia. Spiders. Snakes. Scorpions. Tasmanians. And mate, you don't have your phone either, and with no car, you're going to need that to get home."

I looked for my jacket on the back of the door. Gone. My phone wasn't in my pants.

I spun back to him. "What is this, 'Baby it's cold, and there are snakes outside?'"

He laughed and held out the handcuffs. "It's, 'Babe, I get to fuck roughly once every three months, so I'm going to fuck ya however I want to fuck ya, and you're lucky you're wearing pants right now.'"

I walked back to him and put my face in close to his. "You don't honestly think I'm going to let you do this, do you?"

"Well, yeah?" He gave me an amused look. "Course you are. We both know it. But I don't mind if you want to play hard to get, if that's what does it for you."

"Where are my b—"

He hooked a foot behind my calf, tripping me so that I fell backwards onto the couch, and brought the handle of the golf club against my chest, pinning me as he dropped into my lap.

I gripped the golf club with both hands to hold him off and found my fear was almost a match for his muscle.

"Jaxon, come on, mate," he squeezed out, grunting with exertion. "I don't want to hurt you."

I put some muscle into it, and managed to shove him back. He fell on his back on the floor and I straddled him, doing my best to put the golf club against his throat. For a second I had him pinned, and then his muscular biceps swelled as he jerked the club out of my hands. The sudden, uneven transfer of force caused the handle to slam against the side of my head.

I fell sideways and ended up on my stomach, my head thick with pain. I put a hand to my temple, sure I was about to pass out, as he crawled over to me.

"You okay, mate?"

"No."

"Shit mate, I didn't mean to hurt you."

He pushed the golf club to one side, and pinning me with his weight, snapped the handcuffs around my right wrist.

"This is for your own good."

He got off me and stood in front of me as I got to my hands and knees, but as I reached for the golf club, he shook his head.

"Oh, come on!"

He kicked me flat, then dropped down onto my back and wrenched my outstretched right arm behind my back. I tried to push him off me with my free hand, and he yanked my left arm up and ratcheted the handcuffs closed.

He ruffled my hair then got off me, dropping back down onto the couch.

I staggered to my feet, my head still spinning, and tried to focus on him.

"That fucking hurt."

He poured himself another drink. "You'll be fine. Just don't fight back." He held up the bottle. "You want one?"

I dropped onto the couch opposite him.

He shook the bottle at me again.

"No, thanks." Sarcastica bold.

"Suit yourself. You alright?"

I leaned back and closed my eyes. I was dazed more than anything. And as the pain dropped away, with the handcuffs digging into my wrists, I realised that irritating fear boner was back.

He put his feet up on the coffee table and flexed his trainers against the edge of it as he sipped his drink.

"So. Do you want to see or not?"

I opened my eyes. "See—?"

"Inside the table."

Oh, that. The chill of fear came back. Did I want to see inside it? Not really, no.

"Oh, come on Jax, you really think my ex is stuck inside the coffee table?"

When he said it like that, it sounded ridiculous. But I wasn't the one hitting other people in the head with golf clubs.

"Okay, okay, look, I'll show you I'm just playing with you."

He got up and went into the kitchen, crouching to retrieve something from a cupboard. I shrank into the couch as he came back with a cordless drill.

He laughed and waved it at me. "Easier to take the screws out. Chill out, babe, this isn't Hostel."

He pulled the magnetic bit out of the end of the drill, swapping it from flat blade to posy, and then started to take a dozen two-inch screws out of the table top.

He dropped the screws in a pile on the carpet then set the drill behind him on the couch.

"You ready?"

I shrank further into the couch as he pulled off the heavy wooden top and leaned it against the back of the couch.

"Come on. Take a look."

I caught a smell of something. A damp cement, closed-crypt smell. But I had to know. I got off the couch and with my hands trapped behind my back, moved closer to the table.

The bottom six inches of the wooden box was lined with what looked like a couple of layers of bricks. At several kilos each, that meant hundreds of kilos of weight. That explained why it didn't move. There was no corpse.

I flinched as Deacon put an arm around my shoulders.

"See. It was just a game." He glanced at me. "You okay?"

"How about you get these handcuffs off me?"

He squeezed my shoulders. "How about you suck my dick?"

"Were you a bully at school?"

"Some might have thought so. Didn't get any complaints to my face." He grabbed my arm and dragged me over to the couch where I'd fallen asleep earlier. He dropped onto the couch and spread his legs wide, leaving me standing in front of him.

"By my count, I owe you one, and you owe me one. Since I'm hosting, home rules are, I choose who goes first."

He put his hands against the backs of my legs and gazed up at me.

"And you, sweetheart, are going first."

I shook my head at him.

"Come on babe, don't tell me you don't want to." He coaxed me with the heat in his eyes, his hands massaging the backs of my thighs, squeezing my arse.

I closed my eyes, knowing I was only holding out to prove to him that he'd been wrong. That I didn't want... whatever this was. But we both knew that was bullshit.

"Jax-on," he crooned. "We both know you can't resist an opportunity to have a cock in your mouth."

He was right. It didn't take much to seduce me. I was already starting to salivate. I couldn't explain why, but having my hands trapped behind me was making me horny as fuck. And despite everything, I wanted him to force me onto him again.

He put his palms flat against the backs of my knees and pressed hard, and my legs buckled. I fell to my knees in front of him.

"Look at you, with your big puppy-dog eyes, begging me to hurt you. Tell me this doesn't turn you on." He gripped a fistful of my hair. "Tell me you don't want this."

I said nothing and he let me go.

The heat from the fire beat against us as he pulled his t-shirt off and ran a hand down his chest. His skin was covered with a light sheen of sweat that made every muscle on his cut torso glisten, and I couldn't keep from devouring him with my eyes. I'd never been so thirsty for anyone.

Curls of brown hair ran across his pecs, trailing down the centre of his body to the top of his jeans. While he didn't have a defined gym six-pack, he was all hard muscle. He clearly did his crunches. I did too, but I was never going to look like that. I'd have been insecure, if I hadn't been so fucking turned on.

My gaze dropped to the bulge in his jeans, and he squeezed himself with a lazy smile. "You want this?"

Saliva was starting to pool in my mouth as I imagined sucking on what was crammed inside his pants about a foot away from my face.

"Yeah?" he asked again. Cocky fucking prick. "I need to hear it."

He caressed himself through his jeans while I stared.

"Jaxoooon." A soft, sing-song voice. "You want it, babe?"

Another squeeze.

"Yes," I said hoarsely.

He pulled open his jeans and released himself from his briefs. His big, veined cock sprang out, hard and already glistening. He flexed, and my eyes followed his bobbing erection. He laughed as he started slowly stroking himself.

"I'll never understand you lot," he said. "Little bi boys who want it in their mouths, want to give me pleasure, but you won't let me fuck your arse and give you the same back."

"Bottoming hurts," I said. My eyes stayed glued to his cock.

"Don't be a wus," he said. "It doesn't just hurt, does it? I've never fucked a man who complained about it afterwards."

He kept stroking himself, and I kept watching him do it.

"Oh, come on then." He put a hand on the back of my head and pressed his cock against my lips.

His hand rested against my hair as I licked at his oozing precum, tonguing it away and watching it ooze again. Teasing him the way he'd teased me while he was filming me.

"Get on with it," he growled.

He gave a sigh of approval as I licked up and down his shaft as best I could without my hands to help hold him still.

"Don't neglect the balls, mate."

He slid his hips forward to the edge of the couch, and pulled his cock up against his gut so that I could suck his balls into my mouth. The size they were, I took them into my mouth one at a time, rolling them against my tongue. With the sweat of our struggle, I had a nose full of his musk, and a slight hint of that cologne that made me want to moan like a horny whore for someone I wished I could have in my mouth again.

"Never do a half-hearted job, do you?" he said. "You want to make a bet? If you lose, you eat my arse. If I lose, I eat yours."

"What kind of bet?" Rimming wasn't generally my thing. I was happy to receive. Less keen on giving.

"After this, I have a go at making you cum without touching your cock. If I can't do it, I'll eat you out until you beg me to fuck you. Nothing else, unless you want it."

I laughed. Maybe if he hadn't sucked me off twice already. "Sure. You can try." His tongue on my arsehole. That, I could live with.

"Well, get to work, then."

I let him guide my head back onto him.

For some reason, having my hands trapped behind my back made me lose some of the reluctance I'd had to deep-throat him earlier. I found myself doing my best to open up and take him deeper, even though that had never been something I'd been comfortable doing.

"Ooh, Jaxon, babe, keep doing that."

He started to moan as he fucked my mouth.

"Oh, Jax, just imagine my wet tongue against your hole, sliding around, teasing inside." His eyes met mine. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Oh fuck yes.

I sucked harder, picturing him tonguing my hole, aware of my cock trapped in underwear damp with sweat and precum, twitching as I opened my throat up for his thick prick. I had no idea how he made me this horny, but if this was where he wanted me, I'd arrived.

He reached down and pulled open my jeans, and tugged down the front of my briefs so my cock sprang free.

"Yeah. Yeah," he said softly. "See, I knew this'd work for you."

He didn't touch me, just grabbed a handful of hair and started pushing me down on him, jamming his dick so deep it felt as if he was drilling for oil in my throat.

"Oh fuck," he said, and the look of pain on his face told me he was about to cum. He grabbed two fistfuls of my hair and started thrusting his hips. The harder he gripped me, the less resistance I gave him, until I was just a hole for him to fuck into.

He let out a groaning sigh of pleasure as he came, spurting hot cum across my tongue, coating the inside of my mouth.

I swallowed reflexively, and he slammed himself deep into my throat for the last couple of blasts, holding himself there until every last drop had slid down my abused throat into my stomach.

"Thaaat's it," he said, as I choked on his dick. His eyes locked to mine. "See, you're already halfway to being a submissive little bitch."

I thought that was generous of him.

He finally pulled out, leaving me coughing, thick strands of throat juice hanging from the end of his cock.

"Fuck that was hot," he said. He dropped his hand to my shoulder. "You ready for me to fuck your arse yet?"

I frowned, Yeah, no, mate, and he laughed.

He collected the saliva from my lips and wiped it against my chest, then pulled me up on my knees so he could kiss me.

When he'd finished swallowing my tongue, he tugged me to my feet, putting my leaking cock at his face height.

"You're look a bit horny there, babe," he said.

He put a finger to the stretch of fluid leaking out, and wound it around his finger, breaking it away.

"I'd love to lick all that off," he said softly. He looked up at me. "But I've got a bet to win."

He got to his feet. "Open."

He pushed his finger into my mouth, and I held his gaze as I sucked it clean, knowing things were about to get a whole lot dirtier than I'd planned.

"How can you not know what you are?" he asked. "I haven't even made you dinner. Haven't wined and dined you. We've barely had a conversation that didn't involve fucking. You said you didn't want a hook-up, but you'd have blown me outside before I'd said a word if I'd asked you to. I could see it in your face."

I went hot with embarrassment and he shook his head.

"You're worth more than that, you know that don't you? I'll show you. When I'm done playing with you."

He did up his jeans and glanced down at my still-drooling cock. "But we can't leave you like that now, can we? You'd better come with me."

He grabbed my arm and guided me around the couch to the open bedroom door, then gave me a shove.

"In you go, there's a good boy."

Humiliated and horny, I did as he said.