POLED, TAPED
He didn’t wake up all at once. It came slow. First the cold night air on his skin. Then the smell of asphalt and gasoline. Cars somewhere. Tires humming past. A dog barking far away. Then the tightness. His wrists were pulled behind him. Rope biting the skin. His back pressed against something hard and round — a metal pole maybe. His chest was bare. His whole body sticky with sweat and whatever oil had been on him earlier.
He tried to open his eyes. Nothing. Tape. Or cloth. Something tight across them.
“Hey—” his voice cracked. Dry throat. “Where the hell am I?”
No answer. He shifted and the rope held him fast. Whoever tied him knew how. His shoulders flexed, muscles straining, but it didn’t give.
That’s when the memory flickered. The party. Loud music. Drinks. Too many drinks. People laughing. Someone daring him.
He was a TV actor. Mid-level famous. The kind of guy people recognized in gyms and bars. The funny thing was, nobody knew his weird side. His kinks. He liked risky stuff. Being watched. Being touched where people could see. The danger of it. The shame of it. The thought made heat crawl through his body even now.
Footsteps. Close. A chuckle. “Well look at you,” a man’s voice said, amused. “Big star tied up on a street pole.”
The actor jerked against the rope. “Untie me.”
Click. A phone camera. “Smile,” the man said casually. “I’m taking a picture.” Flash.
The actor cursed under his breath. His heart was pounding but there was something else mixed into it. Something darker. That old stupid thrill he hated admitting he liked.
“You’re sweating already,” the guy said. “Guess the rumors were true.”
“What rumors?”
“That you like this kind of thing.”
Hands brushed his waist. His stomach tightened. The man tugged lightly at the thin briefs he was wearing — barely anything, really. “Relax,” the voice murmured. The actor’s breathing got heavier. He couldn’t see anything, only feel — night air on his chest, the pole behind his back, the man close in front of him.
Then he felt it. A hot, wet breath against his stomach, followed by the slow, deliberate drag of a tongue over his abs. He gasped, his hips bucking involuntarily. The man’s hands hooked into the waistband of his briefs, pulling them down just enough to free his half-hard cock. It sprang up, heavy and eager in the cool air. A low chuckle was his only warning before a hot mouth engulfed him.
The actor’s head fell back against the pole with a thud. It was a sloppy, hungry blowjob, all teeth and tongue. The man took him deep, his throat constricting around the head, pulling back to swirl his tongue around the sensitive ridge before sucking him down again. The actor’s thighs trembled. He was helpless, tied and blind, completely at the mercy of this stranger’s mouth.
The man’s hands gripped his ass, pulling him deeper, urging him to fuck his face. The actor couldn’t stop himself. His hips snapped forward, a desperate, primal rhythm. The wet, sucking sounds were obscene, echoing in the quiet alley. He could feel the pressure building, a hot coil in his gut. “I’m gonna cum,” he gasped, a warning and a plea.
The man just moaned around his shaft, sucking harder, faster. With a strangled cry, the actor’s body went rigid. He came hard, pumping his release down the man’s throat. The man swallowed it all, his tongue lapping at the sensitive head, milking him for every last drop. He pulled back with a final, wet pop, leaving the actor panting and spent, his body sagging against the ropes.
Cars passed. Someone somewhere laughed. And out here, in the dark, the actor stood tied and helpless, heart racing, realizing the terrifying truth rising in his gut.
Part of him wasn’t scared. Part of him wanted it.
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