Only One Draw Ch. 02

After they'd walked around the room, looking at and discussing the artwork, dwelling on the sensuality and sexual aspects of the pieces and pausing to kiss and fondle, including Toby running a hand into the folds of Case's robe and fondling the man's balls and stroking his long cock, Case guided Toby back to the center of the room.

Case sat on the ottoman and, taking his cue, Toby knelt in front of him, brushed the sides of robe open, took the man's cock in his mouth, and as Case ran his fingers through the young man's hair, gave him expert head.

At length, Case pushed Toby back on his heels and stood. "This ottoman is quite special" he said. "It's from the palace of the Chinese emperors. Very inventive and sensual people, the Chinese of the Manchu Dynasty."

As Toby watched, Case lifted off the top of the ottoman and set that aside. The platform under it was lower to the ground. "Happily set to my height," Case said, with a low laugh. "I'm pleased to know that some Chinese emperor and I were the same height."

It took Toby a moment to figure out what he was looking at in the configuration of what had been under the ottoman lid, but, when he did, he let out a little gasp and shivered. There were indentations in the wood at the bottom corners of the compartment where one's knees fit, and there were velvet straps, with gold buckles to hold the legs in place there. At the other end of the ottoman, on the edge, at the center, there was an indentation for the chin to fit in. And there was another velvet strap and gold buckle there to hold the neck in place. Other velvet straps were set at the bottom from the lower corners of the ottoman. The wrists could be restrained here. Two footholds pulled out at the side of the ottoman. The figure on top could either just stand behind the bound figure, or he could put his feet into the footholds and be in the position of riding the bound figure high like a jockey would a horse.

"I'm sure this was made for the emperor to ride his favorite concubines, but it works just as well with young men, I would think. Of course, the Chinese emperor would be very refined. No doubt some of his favorite concubines were young men. Shall we try it out?"

Try it out they did. Toby was bound on it at his knees and wrists. Before his head was lowered and put into the restraint, though, Case came around in front of him and showed him the antique Oriental toy he'd had in his pocket--a carved ivory cock cage. It was a dildo, but Toby could see that it was of a special variety--that there was a grove on the top of it and red string loops. It wasn't designed to extend the cock. Case had more than enough length. It was designed to thicken the cock. Whereas Toby had assumed the taxing the cock would give him would be in length, he now knew that it would be in girth too. He'd be stretched to the max. He gave a little moan, and Case smiled as he then gently pushed Toby's head down to restrain his neck on the edge of the ottoman platform.

Toby saw the blue robe floating to the ground on one side of the ottoman and a slit condom packet on the other side right before he began to moan and writhe as he could, as Case's tongue slid into the young man's crack and he began to eat Toby's ass out and prepare it for mounting.

Toby's eyes widened and he emitted a yelp of surprise and slight pain as he felt the sting of the strap on his bare buttocks that he had had no idea would be employed. It wasn't employed long or stringently, though--just enough for Toby to fully realize that he was totally vulnerable in this position for Case to do anything he liked with him. He was completely in the man's control. Toby could only imagine what an all-powerful Chinese emperor could and would do with a slave in this position.

Case mounted and rode Toby in the jockey position for a good twenty minutes before coming. The black panties Toby was wearing had a slit down the back, so those didn't need to be ripped off of him. As he rode, Case's hands went everywhere on the young man's body, and Toby gave him appropriate responses of pain-pleasure at the taking. Toby would have in any event, but this positioning was so unusual that Toby was fully aroused by it. Case didn't remove the bra and panties, enjoying the feel of running his hands under them to fondle the underlying flesh.

It was as he freed Toby from the ottoman that he asked him to disrobe entirely other than the high heels. The bra and panties would go in the man's souvenir drawer along with those of the T-girl who called herself Liam and who hadn't been nearly as malleable as this one was. Of course Case had gotten a little carried away with the strap when he'd put Liam on this device.

As Toby was removing the panties and bra, Case, naked, walked to the far end of the room and slid the double pocket doors open. Revealed on the other side of that was one of the rooms of the gallery owner's in-town apartment. It, like elsewhere in the gallery, was decorated with an East Asian motif. Prominent in the room was an antique, four-poster bed, with very sturdy, carved-wood pillars.

Toby barely had time to see that the pillars had velvet loops strategically hanging from them above and below, until he was being put into the restraints and spread-eagled at the foot of the bed, facing it. Case didn't need to use the antique Saint Andrew's cross in the nude male art room. He had this bed.

After Toby had been stretched out and restrained, a naked Corwin Case picked a leather strap up from a nearby chair and went to work. This time he applied the strap for a longer time and with more gusto, with Toby writhing as he could within the restraints and crying out in pain-pleasure with each snap of the strap. Case knew his limitations with this contract, though. He was limited to arousing himself for another fuck, not to dispense permanent damage.

When he was fully erect again within his ivory case, he moved Toby's ankles from the base of the bed pillar to half way up the pillar, covered the young man close from behind, penetrated, reached around and rubbed the gecko tattoo, and then enjoyed the bucking ride of his life to be repeated later in the night with the luscious rent-boy riding him in a cowboy. A secret that had been revealed to him was that the gecko tattoo on Toby marked an erogenous point. When Toby was rubbed here, he went wild with lust. The T-girl Liam hadn't given him sport even close to this enjoyable. Toby Drake was a luscious professional whore.

* * * *

Sam Shaffer, the art agent, took the empty glass of the T-girl, Natalie, he'd bought for the evening to hang on his arm at the Artechouse exhibit opening of the artwork of some of his client artists and went off to replenish the drinks. The two had been standing in front of one of the male nude drawings by Griffin Gould, which had reminded Shaffer that he'd paid for Natalie and thus he'd have to keep her out of Gould's way at this exhibition. He'd already seen the two eyeing each other. Natalie hadn't come cheap. He's asked for a fully converted T-girl, as he wanted to try that out, but he was still undecided on whether to pay for a ride after the exhibit. Her ripe-melon breasts were certainly enticing. He'd love to get his hands and lips on those. He had wanted to see how it went between the two of them here. So far, it hadn't been great, though. Gould's interest and Natalie's response to that had gotten in the way. And before them, where they stood, was the reason for that.

The Gould drawing they'd been looking at was of Natalie. She was kneeling on the bed and leaning back, an arm supporting her from behind. She was wearing a frilly nightgown in the drawing, and her other hand was pulling the hem of that up to show the folds of her slit and the tiny vestigial penis at the top. The index finger of that hand was extending down, the tip touching a labia fold. She was giving a coquettish smile with a dreamy quality that conveyed either that she was on drugs at the time, or had just been fucked or was about to be fucked.

Shaffer had made the mistake of asking which it was, to be answered, "Yes, all of it."

"Gould fucked you?"

"Yes, of course. He's a pro at it," she answered, not seeing a problem. She was a call girl. Men fucked her. She shrugged. At that point, close to exploding, Shaffer grabbed her empty glass and headed for the bar.

Taking advantage of Shaffer leaving her side, and other than a short private discussion Natalie had managed with Toby Drake, the man had been hovering all over her throughout the evening, she took out her cellphone and tried to call Destiny to find out where she was and why her fellow trans escort, who said she would be here for Griffin Gould, hadn't arrived. There still was no answer.

It wasn't just concern for Destiny that had Natalie trying to reach her. Destiny had said she'd be here this evening to escort Gould. Natalie wouldn't have agreed to come if she hadn't thought the artist would be preoccupied with someone else. It was like a moth to the flame for Natalie where Gould was concerned. The man was a hunk and was overpowering, but when she'd modeled for him, he'd been cruel, and she hadn't been able to work for a couple of days afterward. It wasn't that he hadn't satisfied her. It was that he had gone too far in doing so. Tonight, without Destiny being here, she'd sensed that the artist had been following her with his eyes. He said he wanted to do another sitting with her, which would mean another testing fuck. It was a good thing that much of his time this evening was taken up with trying to help sell his work to rich patrons who were attending the exhibition opening.

As she clicked off the cellphone, she heard his voice at her shoulder and felt his hand on her hip, and her eyes darted in the direction that Sam Shaffer had left her, but there was no help to be had from that direction yet.

"I'm glad you came tonight," Griffin Gould said, as he saddled up to her side. He'd brought her a glass of champagne and she couldn't avoid taking it and being pleasant with him.

"Thank you, she said."

"Admiring the drawing of you?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Quite a memorable drawing session."

"Yes, it was," she answered. She shuddered. She was sure that the two of them had had different experience levels of pleasure from that session. She couldn't deny that she'd received pleasure--but at what cost? He gave a low laugh and touched her arm. She shuddered again. He couldn't have avoided feeling that and knowing that he had an effect on her.

Like a moth to the flame.

"I've wanted to set up another session--to draw you again. Your escort agency isn't forthcoming on arranging a date with me."

"They aren't? I'm sorry about that," Natalie said. She knew exactly why that was. She hadn't agreed to another hookup with him yet. She hadn't made up her mind whether she wanted to be dominated and owned like she had been by him the first time. Now that he was here... that she was near the handsome, sexy, charismatic man again... it was like a moth to the flame. Now she ached to have him inside her, doing what he'd done to her before.

"I'll call them and try to unblock the delay," she said. And she would too. No matter how much he scared her and hurt her in sex, he also fully satisfied her in sex. Like a moth to the flame, she would pose for him again--and lay down for him again. And have him inside her, her bucking against him, crying out as he punished that spot at the top of her cunt again, however he wished to have her.

"Come," he said, taking her still half-full champagne glass from her and setting hers and his on a nearby table, "there's something I want to show you."

Like a moth to the flame, Natalie let Gould take her hand and lead her through those milling around, drinking and grazing, and occasionally discussing the artwork in the exhibition. He led her to the back of the building and into a darkened store room, where he locked the door behind them. Perching her on a packing crate, he moved in between her legs and leaned in to capture her mouth with his. One arm wound around her waist to hold her in place. His other hand worked the zipper on the side of her long, satiny skirt, brushed the front of the skirt open, and exposed her to his searching hand. She wasn't wearing panties.

Natalie moaned and rocked against the man's hand as he worked his fingers on her tiny penis and through the folds and into her vagina. He stopped that long enough to produce a surgical glove from somewhere and pull it onto his hand. Natalie managed a groan and a "Oh, no, not that again," this having been the roughest part of her experience with the man before, but he was too strong for her. He had her under his control. He went back to working her mouth with his and stifling all but her muffled objections, groans, and moans, as he slowly worked his hand into the snatch the doctors had made quite elastic and flexible to accommodate the profession of their patient. He buried himself in to her up to his wrist and engaged in one of his favorite fetishes of fisting her as her legs went to rubber and she panted hard and moaned in low tones.

At length, he pulled his fist out, turned her, belly down on the packing crate, penetrating her from behind with an erection he'd somehow freed and gotten a condom on, and fucked her from behind. His hands went to her newly minted pert breasts, pushing the bodice down and working the tits with his hands as he fucked her in the cunt from behind.

When he was finished, he kissed her on the neck, murmured, "Terrific; looking forward to our next drawing session," and left her there, bent over the packing crate, panting and moaning, bruised and abused--but sexually satisfied in ways few men could do for her.

When she came out into the exhibition rooms, she looked for Sam Shaffer, but didn't find him. Eventually, someone said they'd seen him leave--and not looking the least bit happy. Natalie decided to leave too, the evening bust now, the biggest part of her fee lost to her moth-to-the-flame reaction to the dangerous attraction to Griffin Gould. Well, she hadn't been sure that Shaffer would engage her for the rest of the night anyway. He was a changeable and volatile man. She couldn't read his moods well.

Outside, a Capitol Cab Company taxi driven by a tough-looking, big black guy, pulled over, and Natalie got in.

* * * *

"Why are you pulling into here?" Natalie asked, when, rather than continuing across the Mall, the cab pulled into the deserted parking area of the Sylvan Theater on the fringe of the circular lawn centered by the Washington Monument phallic obelisk. "This isn't the way to the Dupont Circle area."

"Just hang tight, sweetie," Dex answered from the cab's driver's seat. "We've got to negotiate the fee first. You a pussy boy T-girl, ain't you? You look like a pussy boy T-girl to me."

Natalie reached for the doorhandle to bail out of the cab. The door was locked and she couldn't get it open. Dex pulled the taxi to a stop, and got out. He was able to get the backseat door open from the outside.

And, yes, he found out quickly that Natalie was a pussy boy T-girl.

He was on top of her, the two stretched out over the backseat, one of the doors open, and he quickly had his hand up under her skirt and exploring her snatch. Then, pinning her to the seat with his much-heavier body, he was inside her, big and thick, almost immediately. She was built to take him, though. Astride her, inside her, he slapped her around a bit, as she struggled against him, even though he already was inside her. But when it was too late to fend off his cock and it was evident he was going to punch her in the mouth, she stopped fighting and said, "OK, big boy, show me how good you are at screwing. I've had the best. Show me."

He was showing her, and he was very good at it--a regular black bull--big, thick, strong in his ability to hold himself over her, and vigorous in the long, deep strokes he was taking. Natalie's weakness in defense was partially caused because he was fucking her so good. She liked to be fucked and she was used to being taken roughly. She had to struggle with herself to want to stop this--at least until he'd pulled an orgasm out of her.

He was wearing a rubber, careful, he thought, in not leaving evidence. A switchblade had fallen out of his pocket as he was slapping and mounting her. Natalie had seen it and kept it located with her eyes. She just hoped that Dex wasn't aware it was on the floor of the cab.

Thrust, thrust, thrust. He was giving it to her good. Natalie became lost to the fuck. The black bruiser was big. She was built to take big, as she had managed Gould's fist--as Destiny had told her she had managed Gould's fist--but she also appreciated an extra thick, long cock--and she liked them black. Gould had been punishing and big inside her in the gallery supply room, especially with his fist, but whereas he had satisfied himself, he hadn't gotten her off too. This black taxi driver was getting her off, and for several minutes she went with him, joining him in the rhythm of the thrusts and the withdrawals, taking his fucking and fucking him back, lowering his assumptions he was taking this by force. He was thick and vigorous enough that, in his slides and in the depth he was reaching, he could work both her vestigial penis at the top of her snatch and the reconstructed glans at the base of her new vagina. When a fully redone trans was worked in both of those places, she could climax with the best of them.

The taxi driver worked both of her nubs without even realizing or caring that he was, and he brought her to the brink before he got there. Shuddering and melting, she exploded again and again.

Dex laughed. "Know what to do with you pussy boys, don't I?"

He had done it for Natalie, but not necessarily because he knew how to do it. Gould knew how to do it, but he hadn't done it for Natalie this evening. It was left to a big, black bull's assault in the back of a cab in a deserted parkland parking lot to get her off. She had taken it at first as assault, then like he was a paying client, and then as an act of her own release, praying that he would appreciate her going with it and wouldn't hurt her--not believing for a moment that he was planning on letting her walk away afterward. In the end, she accepted it as arousing enough to get her off, which, in her business, she wasn't always able to do. But, ultimately, she realized that timing was everything and her best chances here were to get him to his most vulnerable point--when he was concentrating on getting himself off--and then to act, to survive.

And, sure enough, as he was reaching climax, he put his gloved hands around her neck and started to choke her. This was where her defense training came into play. With what strength she had left, she reached up and grabbed his neck with her hands. At the same time, she began to buck with him, pulling him into an ejaculation. In the seconds in which he was jerking and coming and then jerking again and coming again, he loosened his hold on her throat, taking one hand away and searching in his pocket, no doubt trying to bring out his switchblade knife, but not finding it where he expected it to be. Natalie, in turn, found the artery under his chin with her thumb that controlled the flow of blood to his head, applied pressure, and Dex collapsed on top of her into unconsciousness.

Within a few seconds, Natalie was out of the cab, had taken her heels off, and was running toward the lights ringing the tidal basin while adjusting her clothes as best she could.