He keeps trying to escape his bonds for some reason. Squirming around on the floor and trying to untie the rope around his wrists. I can see his muscles tightening and moving behind the rope. His skin is red from the friction.
And small sobs leaves his mouth every time he tries to get free.
However he has no chance of escaping. His hands and ankles are tied behind his back. In something they call a “hogtie”. It’s an evil method. Perfect for punishment.
I turn around for a second to answer a text.
“You can punish me all you want; I won’t submit to you” he says.
I turn around and find him still tied up. Looking at me with so much fight left in him.
“you’re not in a position to talk right now, I can do whatever to you, if you’re not nice I’ll beat you” I answer.
He looks down and rests his head on the floor. Quiet. He stays quiet until I lay my phone down. Then he tries to fight once again but gives up quickly. Looking completely defeated.
I can still see the outline of his muscles under the ropes. It’s so hot. He has the perfect male body. Almost like a Calvin Klein model.
He has a tight butt too. And pecs, his chest is rock hard. I’ve felt it before.
“Let me out” he says.
I chuckle.
“you’re not acting tough anymore.”
He shakes his head.
“No. I’m not, please let me out.”
I look at his butt. A smile appearing on my face, looking at him all helpless is almost making me laugh, considering how confident and ballsy he was for a while ago. I narrow my eyes. Taking a longer look on his body, how perfect it is. He isn’t aware of my staring, but he would probably take it as a compliment.
I sit down on my knees beside him. He turns his head to look at me. looking at my hands mostly.
I touch his bicep, then I move to his back. Then his butt. I slap it. And he doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t protest. I squeeze it, slap it again. Then I touch his bicep again.
I turn him around, touching on his abs. feeling how rock hard they are. Squeezing his chest and punching it. Just to see how he’ll withstand it.
He opens his mouth to complain but, closes it before saying a word. I punch him in the stomach again to see if how he takes it. He coughs when I do so. Not prepared for it at all. He tries to turn around, but I keep him still.
“Tighten your abs right now …”
I punch him again. And he coughs.
“I can’t tighten them when I’m tied up like this” he whines.
I slap his butt, and he gives me a sour face.
“Figure it out” I say.
Then I punch him again, and this time I feel a little resistance. His stomach is a little harder than when I last punched.
I test it again and punch him. And I feel a small amount of resistance again, but it’s not rock hard. I’m starting to think that he’s right. Because every time I punch him doesn’t manage to tighten all the way, and he coughs.
After a while he gets exhausted and can’t tighten. It becomes soft. And every time I punch him, he coughs and squirms instead of trying to defend himself. I decide to show him some mercy. And let go.
He rests his head to the side and allows me to do whatever I want. I don’t punch anymore. I explore his body.
The gym is clearly doing him justice.
When I start to untie him, his eyes widen. I don’t untie all the way though, leaving his wrists and ankles tied.
“don’t get your hopes up” I say.
I poke his crotch and he wince. I turn him on his back and sits on top of him.
“I know you can tighten it now” I say.
Before I punch him the hardest I can in his stomach. He looks unprepared, bending forward in agony. And coughing again. I touch his abs with my palm, they’re red from all the punches.
“Sorry, I guess you weren’t prepared, but you are now.”
I punch him the hardest I can again and it’s rock solid. I try punching again and it’s still hard. I do it three more times, but he doesn’t get tired. I try to see how long I can punch until he’s tired, but he doesn’t really seem to relax.
Between the punches he shakes his head.
“Please stop, I can’t keep this up”
I nod.
Dragging my hand across his abs, slowly. I notice the tears in his eyes.
“Give me a kiss”
He reaches for me.
We kiss.
Then I pull away.
“What do I have to say or do for you to let me go?” he asks.
“Say please, miss. And clean my kitchen and cook for me after work for the next two months. If you make a bad meal, we’ll repeat this.”
He nods.
“Okay. Please let me go, miss” he asks.
And I smile. Knowing he’s lost. And he looks away.
Then I untie him, and he leaves. I don’t hear from him until the other day, when he’s making me dinner. And when I pull up his shirt, I realize that his stomach is bruised and red from the punches. When I touch it, he winces. Before going back to making dinner.
I really made some real damage.
The hole night I spend thinking about it.
Hoping for his sake that I don’t have to do it again.
