Powerless

Powerless

Stella Notecor

© Copyright 2011 by Stella Notecor

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may
not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written
permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book
review.

This is a
work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents
are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious
manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is
purely coincidental.

Cover Image:
Jimmy Thomas (romancenovelcovers.com)

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By
Stella Notecor

David marched out of the conference room and allowed the
door to slam shut.  To think he was being sent to retrieve coffee, as if he
were a lowly secretary.  Mark was meeting with the CEO of a small company they
hoped to acquire, and when the CEO complained he was thirsty, he sent David to
find something to drink.  Considering David set up the meeting, being kicked
out was humiliating.

David straightened and turned towards the mess hall. He
would retrieve the coffee, but he would not be made to feel powerless.

He’d show Mark how it felt to lose control of a situation.

~*~

Mark sighed and slid his key into the door lock. He opened
the door and stepped inside his apartment, flicking on the lights. Oddly, the
room remained dark.

He wiggled the switch up and down. Nothing. The bulb must
have burned out. He headed towards the dim glow of his computer on the other
side of the room. The door closed behind him, pitching the room into darkness.

Halfway to the computer, someone grabbed Mark around the
waist and covered his mouth with one hand. The person pulled him against his
body, and Mark could tell his captor was taller and stronger than him. He
froze. The man held him closer. He was naked—his half-hard cock pressed against
Mark’s ass.

His assailant pressed a squishy object into his hand. “That
is your safe object,” he whispered, his stubble tickling Mark’s ear. He leaned
back into his captor, recognizing the man’s voice as David’s.

“Drop the ball, and I stop immediately.” His safe object was
a boob-shaped stress ball his brother gave him as a joke after he came out to
his family. According to his brother, every man needed a pair of boobs to relax
with. Personally, he preferred squeezing a different pair of balls when he was
stressed.

“If you understand, nod your head twice.” Mark complied. David’s
hands fell away, leaving him standing alone in the middle of the room.

A moment later, cloth brushed against his cheek. The glow of
the computer disappeared as it covered his eyes. Before Mark could ask why David
had decided to play, a part of the mask was pulled under his chin and tightened
so he could not open his mouth.

“Are you able to breathe?”

Mark nodded. The mask didn’t cover his nose.

“Good.” Hands fell to Mark’s shoulders. “Undress yourself.” David’s
voice moved away. “I’m turning on the lights.”

The chain of the lamp by his bedroom door jangled. Mark
couldn’t tell if the lights came on or not; the mask kept him in the dark. He
strained to hear David’s movements as he struggled to take off his clothes with
only one free hand.

Mark stripped off his jacket and shirt, dropping them to the
floor. A thumping sound came from the corner near his desk.

He kicked off his shoes and socks. The cushions of the couch
made a strange “whumpf” as David took a seat.

Mark unbuttoned his slacks and pushed them down to the
ground along with his underwear. He bent slowly, allowing David a prime view of
his ass from the couch. He straightened up, taking a moment to caress his
growing hardness before placing his hands at his side.

He expected to be reprimanded for touching himself without
permission, perhaps even spanked. Instead, he heard nothing—no reprimand, no
movement.

Just silence.

Mark stood in place for a long time, waiting to see what
would happen next. Time stood as still as he did. Finally, growing impatient, Mark
made to turn towards the couch.

David’s voice came from near the bedroom door—at least ten
feet to the left of the couch. “Do not move.”

Mark froze. He clenched his safe object. David had been
sitting on the couch. Mark heard him take a seat, but he never heard him get
up.

What was David doing? Why was he making Mark stand still?
Thoughts flickered through his mind. The earlier sounds had come from more than
one part of the room. Had David invited someone else into the game?

No. They never told anyone about their games, let alone
invited them to join in.

Mark was Chief Executive Officer of an international
technology company. David was his Chief Technology Officer. The only people
they associated with daily were other employees. They couldn’t bring any of
them into the game, not without dealing with sexual harassment charges. The
only employee even near their level was the Chief Financial Officer, and he was
the type to be interested in the things David and Mark did.

At least… Mark didn’t think he would be interested…

Mark’s hand spasmed, squeezing the boob-ball tighter. David
was in charge during the games. He made the decisions, and if he had decided to
bring someone into the game tonight, there would be a good reason for it. Mark
closed his eyes beneath the blindfold and forced his muscles to relax. He
trusted David.

He focused his hearing. He thought could hear David
breathing, but it might have just been the rush of blood through his head.
Actually, his head felt a little fuzzy. Mark breathed in deeply, but his head
remained strangely empty. He felt like he was going to pass out. He continued
breathing deeply, and he bent his knees and relaxed his grip on his safe object
slightly. Dizziness, quickly followed by a flush rising in his cheeks told him
that the increased circulation had sent blood rushing to his head. At least he
wasn’t dizzy anymore.

Sweat trickled down his back and legs, tickling as it moved.
The room seemed warmer than usual. Beads of sweat slid down his forehead and
were caught by the edge of the mask’s blindfold before they could sting his
eyes. After the sweat dried, it made Mark itch. He barely kept himself from scratching
at the salt trails.

Mark’s legs started to ache. He shifted his weight, trying
to give each leg a break. His feet felt numb on the hardwood floor. The squishy
boob in his hand grew heavy, pulling on his arm. His whole body felt thick and stiff.

After what felt like hours, David whispered in Mark’s ear,
“Good boy.”

Mark tensed, a shudder crawling up his spine.

David placed a hand in the middle of his back and gave him a
little push. “Head for the bed.”

Moving forward obediently, Mark trusted David to steer him
away from any obstacles. He brushed up against the doorframe to their bedroom,
and it helped him orient himself. He sped up, more confident in his location.
David’s hand fell away as he outpaced him.

Then he rammed into a chair, crushing his penis painfully.
“Nhhhh!” he whined through his nose as he clutched at his crotch.

“Naughty boy.” David’s hand landed on his shoulder. “You
know better than to take control.”

He nodded and caressed his throbbing dick. It didn’t hurt
half as much as his wounded pride, but it was easier to soothe the physical
pain.

David turned him. “Slowly this time.”

Mark shuffled forward.

“Faster.” David swatted his hands. “And no touching.”

He released his dick but kept a firm grip on his boob-ball.
Knowing that the furniture had been moved left him feeling lost. What else had
been moved? The table? Their bed? He paid close attention to David’s hand on
his shoulder, stopping when he squeezed lightly.

“That’s a good boy.” David’s hand drifted up to his hair.
“That’s a very good boy.” He rubbed Mark’s head.

He leaned into the soft touch, tilting his head closer to
David’s hand. The tension melted out of his shoulders.

He didn’t need to worry about where he was. David would take
care of him.

David’s hand disappeared, snapping Mark out of his relaxed
state. “Bend over.”

He bent forward at the waist and stood waiting. Rustling
noises came from in front of him—it sounded like the restraints were being
readied. The noises stopped, and he strained to hear something else.

David’s hand brushed against his backside. It was the only
warning he got before he was promptly smacked on his right buttock. He fell
forward and landed on the edge of the bed.

“One—for trying to take control.” David gave him another
hard swat on the left side. “Two—for fondling yourself.” A third impact landed
in the middle of his ass. “Three—for fondling yourself a second time.”

So David had noticed his misbehavior earlier. His ass
burning, Mark wanted to regret it, but he couldn’t, not when it meant having
David’s attention focused solely on him.

He rested his weight on his elbows, pulling his face out of
the bedspread. Would he be smacked again?

The bed creaked and shifted. “Get up here.”

Mark nodded and scrambled up onto the bed. He knelt, hands
resting at his sides, and waited.

In the silence that ensued, every noise seemed twice as loud
as it should. David’s breath was harsh and heavy. The slightest movement by
either of them made the bed squeak madly. The quiet of the room convinced him
they were alone, as he heard nothing but their breathing and the bed. He
relaxed a little, letting his muscles unwind.

Mark’s legs ached after a few minutes in the same position. He
tried to shift subtly, but the bedsprings gave his movement away.

“Be still,” David snapped.

He froze in place. While gaining David’s attention was
always good, displeasing him was a very bad idea. He had been forced to sleep
on the couch often enough to know what the impatient tone in his voice meant.
David never punished him without reason, but Mark hated having to be punished
at all.

Forcing himself to remain still, Mark focused on what he
could hear. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. David’s breathing was a soft
echo compared to the loud hiss of his own. Each breath he took made his heart
race a little faster. His cock was still sore, but it was valiantly rising to
the occasion again.

Whoosh! Mark twisted towards the noise and rush of air that
accompanied the air conditioner kicking on. The sudden movement left him off
balance, and he toppled onto his side.

David laughed. Mark cringed and curled into a ball. God, he
was such a wimp. He squeezed his boob-ball. He should have expected the air to
kick on—he’d noticed the heat of the apartment before.

David’s laughter trailed off, but Mark contemplated releasing
the boob. He didn’t enjoy being humiliated.

A soft caress trailed down his exposed spine. “Sorry,” David
murmured. “I didn’t mean to laugh.” The bed creaked. A line of kisses traced
the path his hand had taken. “It startled me too.”

Uncurling himself, Mark waited as the kisses moved from his
back to his arm. David mouthed apologies as he moved up his body until finally
he pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

Humiliation was not part of their games. It never had been,
and it never would be. Years of being taunted by school bullies had destroyed
any chance of that. But David hadn’t minded when Mark nixed that aspect of
power-play.

Mark let David roll him over onto his stomach. He could
touch the headboard with his fingertips, and as he shifted, his hand bumped
into one of their restraints. He grabbed it, eager to get on with the game and
move past his embarrassment.

“Are you sure?”