[There's that look again. Very quick, a blink-and-you-miss-it kind of look, but Barry caught it this time too. It makes him look younger. Sweeter. Disarmingly adorable.
It doesn't disarm him for long, of course. The keypad and the thumbprint scanner at the door, Corrigan's quiet, imposing demeanor as he unbuckles his belt, it brings him back to earth and the gravity of his situation. He feels like he's about to be punished for his carelessness in the elevator.
Better get right into character.]
Yes, Sir. [Barry doesn't dare take a moment to look around the room he's stepped into before he pulls off his glasses, making everything around him a blur. He sheds the jean jacket, quickly unbuttoning his shirt with trembling fingers, trying to push the shame of the state of his body aside as he bares himself for this stranger. Barry looks his age, maybe worse, and he knows it.
Guess this is what his life has come to. In his fifties, overweight, divorced, slowly balding, pulling his bluejeans down his chubby thighs in front of the stunning man he's paying to have sex with.
[Corrigan had been with...a lot of people. A lot. He stopped focusing entirely on some vague approximation of aesthetic perfection a very long time ago. Symmetrical features and toned abs are all very good, but most humans don't look like that. Everyone has some flaw, some feature they're embarrassed about showing. The one consistently perfect thing is the surrender required to bare one's self completely.
So Corrigan steps forward, trails the fingers of one hand up Barry's side, thumb stroking gently over the shape of his waist, tracing the softer, looser skin of stretch marks and the plush feel of muscle gone soft.]
Whatever it is you're thinking, don't. [It's a command, but gentler. He sees that shame, that embarrassment, as old and practiced as a scar.] In this room, your only thoughts are pleasing me and obeying.
[Corrigan's hand comes to rest cupping Barry's chin, lifting it to meet the other man's eyes.] I would not have brought you here if I didn't desire you.
[Corrigan's fingers to his skin come at a shockingly opportune time, pulling him out of his reverie just as he starts spiraling. It's grounding, in a way. A soft spot between comforting and concerning in how fast it pulls Barry back down to earth. His ex-wife had that same uncanny ability to spot exactly when his thoughts and insecurities started running away with him. It was one of the things that made her such a good partner.
What made her such a good Dom.
This bodes well for the stranger caressing his side, cupping his chin.]
... Y-Yes, Sir. Of course. I, uh... [He shivers at Corrigan's touch. With his glasses off, he can't quite make out the look on his face, but he can hear the calm sincerity in his voice. The thought of a man like this actually wanting him makes him feel lightheaded.] It won't happen again, Sir.
[Starting with completing his task - getting undressed. A quick shimmy and some shuffling of his feet, and Barry stands completely naked before him, his glasses back on his nose and his cock already hard. There's a conscious effort to not look as nervous as he feels.] Is th-this more t'your likin', Sir?
[Corrigan steps back to allow Barry to finish undressing, then nods, simply.] Much.
[Then his body language is shifting again, shoulders squaring, drawing himself up to his full height.] Less to my liking was your performance in the elevator. I thought I had made myself perfectly clear as to my expectations, but clearly I was mistaken.
Such disobedience is call for punishment of some sort. You are permitted to chose what type. [It seems lenient, but it's a unique type of humiliation, making Barry articulate aloud what he wants Corrigan to do to him. Spank him, flog him, use ice or candles to otherwise punish -- the suite is uniquely equipped to do any or all of these.]
[As Corrigan straightens up, hardening his frame, becoming hard and stern before him, Barry apologetically shrinks in on himself. His gaze lowers, his soft body trembles, shame weighing him down where he stands.
This guy is good. Still dressed, tall and hard and gorgeous, walking that thin line between strict and patient, adoring yet punishing. Making him put words to his own punishment. Barry finds slipping into character incredibly easy with this man.]
Of course. Y-You're right, Sir. Thank you.
[He takes a quick glance around the room with his head still bowed. Plenty of anchors for shackles and cuffs... Paddles, floggers, whips, canes... There looks to be a padded bench in the corner made exclusively for spanking... It's the candles on the dresser that catches his attention, however.]
I... I would like to choose th-the candles, Sir. I-If I may make a suggestion... [He holds out his hands.] T'make up for bein' so greedy in the elevator, would it please Sir to use my mouth while I'm holdin' a lit candle? I've, uh, been told I make a real good candleholder...
...it would. [Corrigan says this gracefully, almost like it's a concession of some sort. He crosses to the candles, looking them over, settling on one with a broad, solid base. Thick and unscented, with wax that melts in viscous, stinging globs.]
[Barry breathes a sigh of relief, watching Corrigan cross the room and pick out a candle he likes. It's... going to hurt. The thought of the pain to come makes Barry's spine tingle.
Something in him has been craving this.]
Then I'll impress ya, Sir. [By the time Corrigan returns, Barry is on his knees, hands held out to receive the candle. His fingers are trembling.] Y'can count on it.
[Corrigan lights the candle, holds it above Barry's outstretched hands, tilts it a little until the drops of melted wax fall, one, two, three. He watches to see if Barry flinches.]
Because if not, I can think of other places to rest this.
[The flame catches hold of the wick, crackling softly as wax melts and evaporates, and Barry holds his breath, watching the candle with wide-eyed anticipation. It starts melting, slowly running over, and then it drips right into his palms, hitting his skin like needles.
Barry gasps, moans, pupils narrowing into pinpricks before blowing up so wide they almost swallow his irises. His fingers twitch from the pain, his whole body shivers - but he doesn't flinch. Doesn't pull away, doesn't snap his jaw, doesn't close his eyes even as they well with moisture.
He's a good candle-holder. He's a good boy. Right?]
U-Understood, Sir. [Swallowing, Barry keeps his hands outstretched, waiting patiently for the candle.] Please, Sir, please use my mouth... I-- I wanna please ya, Sir.
There you go. [Corrigan murmurs it softly, almost a coo, setting the candle into Barry's outstretched palms, pressing down so the base adheres to the hardening wax coating his skin.] Are you sure you can do both? Manage to please me and keep hold of this?
[His own hands free, Corrigan strokes his fingers through Barry's hair, fluffs it up, settles his palm possessively on top of the other man's head, then presses his head back.] If you were to drop it or -- god forbid -- burn me, that would be very unfortunate.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2018-10-06 04:42 pm (UTC)It doesn't disarm him for long, of course. The keypad and the thumbprint scanner at the door, Corrigan's quiet, imposing demeanor as he unbuckles his belt, it brings him back to earth and the gravity of his situation. He feels like he's about to be punished for his carelessness in the elevator.
Better get right into character.]
Yes, Sir. [Barry doesn't dare take a moment to look around the room he's stepped into before he pulls off his glasses, making everything around him a blur. He sheds the jean jacket, quickly unbuttoning his shirt with trembling fingers, trying to push the shame of the state of his body aside as he bares himself for this stranger. Barry looks his age, maybe worse, and he knows it.
Guess this is what his life has come to. In his fifties, overweight, divorced, slowly balding, pulling his bluejeans down his chubby thighs in front of the stunning man he's paying to have sex with.
No room for doubts or shame now.]
no subject
Date: 2018-10-09 09:11 pm (UTC)So Corrigan steps forward, trails the fingers of one hand up Barry's side, thumb stroking gently over the shape of his waist, tracing the softer, looser skin of stretch marks and the plush feel of muscle gone soft.]
Whatever it is you're thinking, don't. [It's a command, but gentler. He sees that shame, that embarrassment, as old and practiced as a scar.] In this room, your only thoughts are pleasing me and obeying.
[Corrigan's hand comes to rest cupping Barry's chin, lifting it to meet the other man's eyes.] I would not have brought you here if I didn't desire you.
no subject
Date: 2018-10-09 10:03 pm (UTC)What made her such a good Dom.
This bodes well for the stranger caressing his side, cupping his chin.]
... Y-Yes, Sir. Of course. I, uh... [He shivers at Corrigan's touch. With his glasses off, he can't quite make out the look on his face, but he can hear the calm sincerity in his voice. The thought of a man like this actually wanting him makes him feel lightheaded.] It won't happen again, Sir.
[Starting with completing his task - getting undressed. A quick shimmy and some shuffling of his feet, and Barry stands completely naked before him, his glasses back on his nose and his cock already hard. There's a conscious effort to not look as nervous as he feels.] Is th-this more t'your likin', Sir?
no subject
Date: 2018-10-15 03:27 am (UTC)[Then his body language is shifting again, shoulders squaring, drawing himself up to his full height.] Less to my liking was your performance in the elevator. I thought I had made myself perfectly clear as to my expectations, but clearly I was mistaken.
Such disobedience is call for punishment of some sort. You are permitted to chose what type. [It seems lenient, but it's a unique type of humiliation, making Barry articulate aloud what he wants Corrigan to do to him. Spank him, flog him, use ice or candles to otherwise punish -- the suite is uniquely equipped to do any or all of these.]
no subject
Date: 2018-10-15 11:37 pm (UTC)This guy is good. Still dressed, tall and hard and gorgeous, walking that thin line between strict and patient, adoring yet punishing. Making him put words to his own punishment. Barry finds slipping into character incredibly easy with this man.]
Of course. Y-You're right, Sir. Thank you.
[He takes a quick glance around the room with his head still bowed. Plenty of anchors for shackles and cuffs... Paddles, floggers, whips, canes... There looks to be a padded bench in the corner made exclusively for spanking... It's the candles on the dresser that catches his attention, however.]
I... I would like to choose th-the candles, Sir. I-If I may make a suggestion... [He holds out his hands.] T'make up for bein' so greedy in the elevator, would it please Sir to use my mouth while I'm holdin' a lit candle? I've, uh, been told I make a real good candleholder...
no subject
Date: 2018-10-22 02:58 am (UTC)I expect to be impressed.
no subject
Date: 2018-10-22 03:09 am (UTC)Something in him has been craving this.]
Then I'll impress ya, Sir. [By the time Corrigan returns, Barry is on his knees, hands held out to receive the candle. His fingers are trembling.] Y'can count on it.
no subject
Date: 2018-10-28 05:49 am (UTC)[Corrigan lights the candle, holds it above Barry's outstretched hands, tilts it a little until the drops of melted wax fall, one, two, three. He watches to see if Barry flinches.]
Because if not, I can think of other places to rest this.
no subject
Date: 2018-10-28 03:13 pm (UTC)Barry gasps, moans, pupils narrowing into pinpricks before blowing up so wide they almost swallow his irises. His fingers twitch from the pain, his whole body shivers - but he doesn't flinch. Doesn't pull away, doesn't snap his jaw, doesn't close his eyes even as they well with moisture.
He's a good candle-holder. He's a good boy. Right?]
U-Understood, Sir. [Swallowing, Barry keeps his hands outstretched, waiting patiently for the candle.] Please, Sir, please use my mouth... I-- I wanna please ya, Sir.
no subject
Date: 2018-11-06 03:45 am (UTC)[His own hands free, Corrigan strokes his fingers through Barry's hair, fluffs it up, settles his palm possessively on top of the other man's head, then presses his head back.] If you were to drop it or -- god forbid -- burn me, that would be very unfortunate.