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Meg

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I get my kicks below the waistline, sunshine.


Jared's neck
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Blindfold fic repost: Plat du Jour
Title: Plat du Jour
Pairing: Jared/unidentified MCs and FCs
Word Count: 4,000
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Kinks: Dubious consent; also prostitution, bondage, humiliation, orgasm denial, double penetration
Notes: Originally written for this prompt in the summer 2011 round of blindfold_spn: Jared is brought in as a party favor for guests. He is tied up on his hands and knees, thighs spread apart with a spreader and mouth kept open with an o-ring. Guests can do anything with him so it's entirely up to you, dear writer! I do quite like the idea of guests taking turns to shoot their load in his ass and then have him drink it all from a cup.

They don't talk to him while they're tying him down, barely even look at him. They just maneuver his limbs into whatever position they want them and lock them in place, like he's not a person, just another decoration to be set out. Tables and chairs and lighting and him, the centerpiece.

He hadn't wanted this job. But the money was good, and the agency told him it usually fell to the newest member, unless one of the older ones wanted the cash. Even hookers didn't want to be party favors. So Jared was it, or he was out.

They took his clothes as soon as he got here. Jared thinks they're in a locker in the room off the kitchen, but he's not sure, and he doesn't know what he'll do when he gets out of here if he can't find them. Maybe he'll be so relieved to be free he won't care.

They've got him kneeling on a low, padded table, ankles strapped down with a spreader bar holding his thighs open. His upper half isn't even restrained but already he feels so vulnerable, his soft cock and balls hanging down between his spread legs. His hands are planted on the table, too, and he's got his head bent down to look down at them, nibbling his lower lip. There's a conversation going on about how they're going to arrange him, and he can tell they don't have any interest in his input.

They decide on a yoke, and Jared's wrists and neck are all locked into one long, rigid bar that holds his hands a foot or so away from his head and prevents him from moving them in any direction. They don't stop there, though: They run chains from the ceiling to the yoke and shorten them until his head and hands are suspended at the same height as his ass.

"Good," says the woman in charge, nodding as she looks him over. "Now get a gag and a blindfold on him." She meets his eyes for a brief second then glances away. "Don't want him looking at everybody."

Jared opens his mouth for the ring gag, closes his eyes as they buckle on the blindfold. It's a good thing, he thinks. He doesn't want to look at them either, doesn't want to know how many people are going to be seeing him like this, drooling and on display. On offer.

He thought they'd be done with him after that, at least for now, but he was wrong. There's a sharp pinch on his left nipple and he jerks, making the chains above him rattle and the metal collar scrape his throat. A pinch to his right nipple comes next, and Jared whimpers as he recognizes the weight pulling on them: nipple clamps, connected by a chain. He can feel his cock firming up as the clamps tug on his sensitive nipples, obvious as anything from the way he's positioned. The people working on him don't say anything though; they're talking about the temperature, of all things, and their voices get quieter as they walk off to check the thermostat, leaving him bound and alone.

It doesn't take long to discover how uncomfortable the set-up they've chosen is. He can't sit back on his heels without the collar digging painfully into his jaw, and he has to twist his head to the side if he wants to let the yoke take its weight; otherwise, the pressure on his windpipe cuts off his air. And his arms have only just begun to ache. He has no idea how he'll be able to take this all night.

He doesn't know how long he's there, tied in the middle of the room while people work around him, but eventually soft music starts playing and louder, unfamiliar voices begin to fill the room. It's almost a relief, as much as he hates feeling helpless and vulnerable like this. The party has to start before it can end, after all.

They zero in on him at once, strange hand after strange hand stroking over his back and ass, pulling on the chain between the clamps and laughing when it makes it cock twitch.

"He likes that," a woman says. Jared guesses she's the one holding the chain, though he can't be sure.

"Of course he does," a man with a deep voice replies. "He's a whore, isn't he?"

"So was that last girl," she says, "and she didn't like it." The pull on Jared's nipples gets stronger and stronger until he's groaning and bowing his back to try and ease the strain. "Come on," the woman says, and all of a sudden the pressure's gone. "I want a drink."

They leave, but someone else takes their place only a second later. The room's still getting noisier as more and more guests arrive, and Jared can't guess how many there are--dozens, maybe hundreds--but it feels like every one of them is crowded around him, tugging on the chain and his hair, raking their nails down his back, stroking his cock to full hardness. No one's fucking him yet, but it's early still, and he knows what he's here for. The agency made that very clear.

There's a clinking of glass and the room goes silent as someone starts making a toast, and Jared takes in a deep breath, thinking he'll get a reprieve for at least a few minutes. He's wrong though: he feels a cold, firm pressure at his hole, and a surprised sound escapes him before he realizes it's a thin, lubed plug being pushed in to get him slick and loose. Jared's stomach curls as the plug slides in. The festivities are about to start.

The room echoes with "Cheers!" and Jared's hands tighten into fists. He knew this was coming. He can do it. He doesn't have a choice. He's tied at the perfect height, mouth and ass wet and open, and they're not letting him down until they're done. All he can do is ride it out.

One finger strokes down the crease of his ass and nudges the plug while three more slide through the ring gag. The ones in his mouth are dripping with whiskey, and he swallows it down gratefully even though it stings his throat. Anything to cloud his mind.

"Hungry for it isn't he?" a man says. "Let's give him what he wants." And then the fingers are gone and the first cock of the night is sliding into his mouth, salty precome mixing with the burn of alcohol on his tongue.

No one's fucking his ass yet, just playing with the plug, pushing it in and out and twisting it around. He whines each time it presses against his prostate but the sound is quickly silenced by the cock in his mouth shoving its way down his throat, cutting off his air for seconds at a time. Jared's used to giving head, knows how to time his breaths around thrusts, but it's different when he's tied and blindfolded, unable to inch away or see what's coming. At least this guy isn't sticking his dick as deep as it can go and leaving it there. With the ring between his teeth, Jared wouldn't even be able to bite down as a last resort.

They stop fucking him with the plug, push it in and leave it there, but his ass doesn't get a break. Someone starts spanking him instead, hand slapping his ass, his thigh, even his balls. He tries to shake them off, twists his body and works his legs, but the spreader between his thighs won't let them budge and he can't fight the chains the yoke is hanging from. All he succeeds in doing is pissing off the guy fucking his face, who snags a handful of his hair and pulls him forward, forcing his cock down Jared's throat.

"What's the matter?" someone says from off to the side. "Slut can't take a spanking?" The guy in Jared's mouth pulls back long enough to let Jared get a breath but then he's sliding back in just as deep as before. Jared's just wondering how much of this it's going to take to make the guy come when something smacks harshly across the tops of his thighs, drawing a scream that can't escape his chest. The man in his mouth comes when Jared's still trying to recover from the painful hit and he can't swallow it all, ends up dripping strings of come and saliva when the guy's dick slips out of his mouth. He's barely caught his breath when whatever it is --a crop? a switch?--hits him again, this time on the meat of his ass, and though he doesn't scream he can't help crying out.

"Is he hard?" another man asks--God, how many of them are there?--and Jared can’t make out the response but he feels a cock ring being tightened around the base of his dick, feels a soft hand stroking his shaft until he's hard enough for the ring to hurt.

"He is now," a woman says, and Jared shudders when she rakes her nails over the skin of his cock. "He's big, too. Should turn him over so I can have a ride."

Jared wants to say yes, please--he wants them to put him on his back, give his arms and back and nipples a rest. But they spent too much time arranging him just right for the answer to be anything but no.

"Maybe next time," the man says, and Jared wants to hang his head but he can't without putting pressure on his throat. He clenches his hands again, and even though it shouldn't be a surprise when someone else pulls his head up by the hair and shoves their cock into his mouth, it is. This guy's not rough at least, goes slow and shallow like it's his first time, and Jared has plenty of room to whimper and scream around his cock when the swats to his ass start up again.

They don't stop until Jared's ass is burning and tears are pouring from his eyes, not that anyone can see them. The same guy is still in his mouth, going too slow to get off but finally starting to get brave and push deep, thank God. This night's never going to end if they all take this long. Nails scratch over the welts on his ass and Jared bucks forward, only to have his mouth filled with cock. There's nowhere to go.

Someone twists the plug , pulls it most of the way out. "Think he's ready?" The plug goes back in then slides out again, no resistance at all. "Yeah, he's ready."

"Wait," the woman who wanted to flip him over says, and the guy fucking his mouth stops even though Jared doesn't think she's talking to him. But then he feels something shocking-cold being set down on his back, so maybe she was. "Don't spill that," she warns, and Jared flushes because it's the first time anyone's spoken directly to him in hours, and he's tied up with a cock in his mouth. He holds still though, tries not to let what must be a full cocktail glass tip over. He doesn't want to know what she'd do if he let it fall. Cold droplets of water slide down his back and he wants to shiver, but he forces himself to hold it in. Don't spill it.

He's not sure what she's doing until he feels a hand on his balls and then feels something squeeze down tightly on them. His shriek is muffled but obvious and he can hear them all laughing at him, and the pressure doesn't let up. Whatever's clamped onto his balls is going to stay there. It's a fight to remain still and keep the glass in place--he really doesn't want to give her an excuse to do anything else--but he does it, holds his back level until the first wave of pain passes. "There." She flicks the clamp on his balls, sets them swinging painfully. "Now he's ready." The weight of the glass disappears from his back, and Jared can imagine her taking a nice long drink. "Good boy," she says. It's the last thing anyone says to him for a long time.

Now that she's done, the guy at his mouth starts thrusting again, hard enough that Jared can hope he'll come soon. Someone else's cock is pressing at his ass, stretching his hole wider as he pushes in, and then Jared's full like he hasn't been in ages, stuffed at both ends and stuck in the middle. They thrust in uneven rhythms, the man up front going fast and shallow while the man behind's staying slow and deep, and Jared's just grateful he doesn't have to do anything to make this good for either of them. His balls are throbbing, his nipples are sore and sensitive, the chain on the clamps swinging as he's shoved back and forth, and his ass is still on fire from the spanking. At least if they're fucking him they're not putting new welts on him.

The guy in his mouth finally comes, but it hardly matters. Someone takes his place before Jared can finish swallowing and he ends up with come smeared all over his lips and chin as the new guy takes him fast and rough. The guy behind him finishes, his hands gripping Jared's hips tight enough to bruise while he shoots deep inside him. The come hasn't even started dripping from his hole before there's someone new giving his ass a few good slaps and then driving in while Jared's still moaning from the fresh bursts of pain.

And that's how it goes, one after another. Some of them come on his back or his face (what's visible of it between the blindfold and the gag straps), some of them spank him, and some of them play with his nipples, balls and cock until he's ready to whimper and beg them to stop. He hasn't come but they make him stay hard, teasing him with long, sweet strokes until his hips start to twitch and then stopping, tugging on the chain while they laugh. At some point they add a weight to the chain so it pulls even harder at his nipples, twisting them back and forth while his body rocks. More than anything Jared wants the clamps gone, hates the way his dick pulses with arousal each time they pull just right, but all he gets when he tries to shake them off is a round of laughter. "He's feisty," someone says. "I like him." Jared's groan is cut off by the next cock entering his mouth.

He only makes one real mistake. He hadn't thought he could make mistakes, tied like this with no room to move, let alone misbehave. But some guy forces Jared to deep throat him and doesn't pull out and doesn't pull out and doesn't pull out and maybe it hasn't been that long but Jared panics, yanks back as far as the chains suspending the yoke will allow and twists his head to the side, making the guy shout as his dick is bent and bruised. He gets a slap for that, and then a backhand across the opposite cheek, and then there's a painful hold on his hair while the guy fucks him hard and deep and comes straight down his throat. "Fucking whore," the guy mutters as he pulls out, and Jared has to cough for a minute before he can breathe.

Jared loses count of how many people fuck him. It's one after another after another, like it's never going to end, until somehow it does. He can hear the crowd thinning out, guests saying their goodbyes, and his heart races with excitement. He's almost done.

"Having fun?" someone says, and Jared's heart sinks again. He knows that voice. It's the woman from earlier, the one who put the clamp on his balls and left it there. She touches his cock, still hard and aching, and Jared whines. "Yeah you are," she laughs. "Want to come?"

Jared freezes. It has to be a trick question. None of them care what he wants, especially not her. That must be the wrong response though, because she pinches the head of his dick between her fingers and asks again, more harshly, "I said, do you want to come?"

Tears sting Jared's eyes as he nods. He doesn't really care if he comes, he just doesn't want to be hard anymore. "Good boy," she says, cooing and loosening her grip so she can stroke him gently. "I might have to play with you again one day. Wouldn't you like that? I can be very generous."

Somehow, Jared hadn't considered the possibility that one of the guests might hire him on their own, might call up the agency and request some personal time. He nods again, though he's hoping she doesn't follow through on her offer. He doesn't think he wants to know what she has in mind for him.

He moans with relief when she unsnaps the cock ring. Finally, pieces are coming off instead of being put on. She laughs again and starts stroking him faster, timing her hand to the thrusts of the guy fucking him. It only takes a minute for him to reach the edge, eyes squeezed shut behind the blindfold as he pushes into her hand. "Very good," she says. "Come on, honey, come for me."

Jared does, relaxes his body to let the orgasm flow through him, and for a moment he feels nothing but bliss. But then the clamp around his balls loosens and he's engulfed in pain as the feeling rushes back to them, his orgasm almost completely drowned out. He screams and jerks against the yoke and the guy in his ass comes with a grunt and the woman is still jerking him off, and Jared just wants out.

"Aw, I know," the woman says sympathetically when the pain and pleasure have passed and Jared's left panting and wondering how much more he'll have to take. "Here, honey, drink up." He feels a glass being pressed to his lips and he tilts his head back as much as he can, thinking she's going to fill his mouth with water or liquor, but from the first drop on his tongue he can tell that's not what she's doing. The liquid she's feeding him is a mix of vodka and his own come, still warm from his body. He tries to turn his head away but she takes hold of his hair and pulls until his neck is bent painfully back. "Drink it," she demands, and Jared doesn't move as she pours the mix through the gag, and he manages to swallow most of it down with only a little leaking out over his lips. "Good boy," she says again, and he thinks he can hear her setting the empty glass on the table underneath him. "See you next time." There's a tap to the side of his face, not hard enough to be a slap, and then he hears the clicking of her heels as she walks away, a few others walking with her.

And then it hits him. There's no more talking, no more laughing, no one lining up to fuck him. The party's over; he's alone. All he has to do now is wait for someone to let him down.

It takes longer than he'd like, but eventually the people responsible for cleaning up the room get around to him. They detach the yoke from the ceiling first and Jared crumples to the table, unable to hold himself up. They have to pull him up to get at the nipple clamps, and the cry Jared lets out when they pluck them off and the blood comes rushing back is almost more embarrassing than anything he did during the party because these guys aren't playing with him, they're just part of the crew, responsible for set-up and tear-down and probably a dozen other things in between. At least the blindfold is still on so he doesn't have to see their faces.

The yoke goes next, and then the gag and blindfold and God, the pain in his shoulders and jaw is awful. Every movement makes him wince. He has no idea how he's going to get home like this. The guys are untying Jared's ankles and freeing his thighs from the spreader bar while he's trying to close his mouth, setting him loose when all he wants is to curl up right here and sleep until he feels able to walk without falling. He knows he can't do that though, so he forces himself to sit upright, gasping when his sore, bruised ass hits the padded top. Now he understands why the agency guaranteed him three days off. He couldn't work tomorrow if he wanted to.

He's just about ready to try standing up and looking for his clothes when the woman he met when he first arrived walks over to him, carrying a clipboard and a paper bag. "These are yours?" she says, holding the bag out to him.

"Yeah," he says, looking through it. His clothes are in there, along with his wallet and keys. Nothing appears to be missing. "Yeah, they're mine."

She nods, and pulls something from under the clip on the board. "So is this," she says, and hands him a thick envelope.

Jared's eyebrows furrow as he opens the envelope and sees a pile of bills. "No--" he starts to say--the agency collected in advance, already gave him his cut--but then he realizes they're in different denominations. They're tips. "Oh." Jesus, no wonder some of the other guys still called dibs on this job. "Uh, thanks."

She nods again, marking something off on her clipboard. "You can catch a cab out front," she says, and walks off, leaving him on his own.

He pulls his clothes out of the bag and dresses, his sore muscles and sticky skin making the process take much longer than normal. His fingers won't cooperate when he tries to tie his shoelaces so he ends up making two sloppy knots to deal with later, after getting something to eat and drink and about sixteen hours of sleep.

He makes his way out, trying to not make eye contact with anyone, and sure enough a taxi pulls up in front of him not long after he gets to the street. He pays from the cash in his envelope and takes a minute to count through it. God, he's not going to have to worry about making rent for months. He tucks the envelope into his pocket and leans his head against the window, and tells himself not to ask when the next event is going to be.
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