Bey Deckard has returned to the stable! The whinnies and preening can be heard all around! And such a gracious guest, he brought goodies for all the bad boys and girls. Alright, alright...the good ones can get in on the gifties too!
The Watcher
by
Bey Deckard
I woke up with a start, and it took me a few confused seconds to remember why I couldn’t see or move. Naked except for my socks and jock, I was blindfolded and tied to a chair in my living room.
I licked my lips and swallowed a few times trying to wet my throat. My mind felt sluggish, and the acrid, medicinal taste in my mouth gave me a good idea why that was.
I turned my head, casting about blindly, trying to pick up sound or scent—anything that would tell me whether I was alone in the room… but I knew I wasn’t.
It was that prickling feeling, a throwback to when man wasn’t an apex predator, the one that makes you turn your head in a crowd or pulls you from a deep sleep. I was being watched.
My heartbeat was so loud in my ears that I nearly missed the light footfall to my right.
“I know you’re there.”
The laugh was deeper than I’d imagined it would be, and when he spoke, his voice more cultured.
“And how does that make you feel?” He was standing directly in front of me. “Are you afraid of me?”
I shook my head once.
“You’re not afraid of what I’m here to do to you?” He sounded amused. He knew I was lying.
I shifted, testing the ropes. I could barely move. He was thorough.
When he spoke next, he sounded much closer, as if he had taken a seat or crouched down in front of me. I thought I could feel the heat of his body on my inner thighs, his breath brushing my skin.
“We’ve been chatting online for months, Eric. You’ve told me so much about you… Did you think I wouldn’t be able to track you down?”
When I’d first stumbled upon SociopathWorld.com, I’d only intended to do a little research for an article I was writing, but a series of comments led to further discussions over instant messenger with a man who called himself simply “The Watcher”. He was a self-avowed psychopath and sadist and I quickly became fascinated by our lengthy conversations.
Until he said he wanted to rape me.
His hand touched my knee and I flinched, but I couldn’t move away. He chuckled.
“You’re as handsome as your pictures.” He stroked my thigh. I heard the sound of a zipper. “Ah and you smell so good. Like fear. Did I tell you I could smell fear? It makes my cock stiff.” He let out a long sigh. “I’m touching myself right now. I’m stroking my cock, thinking about how hard I’m going to fuck you with it. How much I’m going to enjoy hurting you.”
I let out a small, frustrated growl and shook my head. His hand inched further up my thigh and he ran his fingers along my covered cock. I clenched my teeth, disgusted and terrified.
“Get the fuck off me you fucking pervert.”
His hand retreated and he laughed, obviously enjoying himself. I thought I could hear him jacking off.
Struggling against the ropes again, I was startled when the futon shifted beneath me. Then I realized what was happening—he was dragging it away from the wall to recline it… to get me into a better position.
“You’re probably good and tight, a nice straight boy like you.”
Panic was starting to steal my breath; I was almost gasping.
“I’ll give you money… anything. Just don’t…”
He just laughed. Then I felt something metal touch my inner thigh and I let out a whimper. The loud schlick and sudden cold air on my balls told me that he’d just cut through my jock. Probably with the kitchen shears. I tried to squirm away from his touch as he pushed the material out of the way, choking when his hand circled my cock.
I turned my head to the side as he began to fondle me. Stroking my cock. Tugging on my balls. Soon he worked a finger inside me and my asshole clenched hard around his knuckle. I was making this horrible moaning noise but I couldn’t stop.
“Oh yes. I’m going to make this hole mine.” It was nearly a purr. The finger pulled out and I heard his footsteps retreat. For a moment I was alone in the room. I lifted my head, wondering what he was doing, but the sound of a plastic lid being flicked open made my pulse race even faster. In seconds he was on top of me, his fingers snarled in my hair and his lubed up cock battering at me, forcing itself into my guts with one brutal push. I let out a yell, my whole body going stiff with pain and horror as he began to fuck me with hard thrusts.
“No no no no…” Tears filled my eyes, spilled down my cheeks. I couldn’t even shake my head. He had me pinned down. His sweat dripped on my face. The stink of him all over me.
All the while he spoke while he slammed his cock into me.
“Such a nice tight hole. I can feel you trying to fight me, Eric. Trying to push me out, but it’s not going to work. You’re just making it more pleasant for me. Oh so fucking tight.” He groaned and then laughed. “Problem is, I’m going to wear your hole out, aren’t I? Perfect little bound straight boy with your ass all blown out from taking my fat cock. But that’s ok, right? When you’re too loose to take my cock, I’m going to see how you like taking a fist.”
“Fuuuck…” I couldn’t hold back. My cock jerked and spat between us and I grunted with the force of my climax—with a gasp he fucked me hard for a few quick thrusts before straining against me, balls deep, a low moan in his throat.
He landed on top of me and we both lay there panting for a moment, but when I groaned in pain, Patrick lifted himself up on his elbows.
“Did I really hurt you?” he asked, tugging down my blindfold. His eyes were wide with worry.
I shook my head and winced. “Not really… but fuck you’re hurting me now. My arms.”
“Oh shit. Sorry!” Patrick rolled off of me and set to work untying the knots. It took a few minutes before I was free, and when the last rope came away, he began to massage my wrists. I could feel the tears drying on my face and the cum cooling on my chest.
I was completely blissed out.
“That was great,” I murmured and Patrick grinned at me, a flush in his cheeks from the praise. “Seriously great.” I squeezed his hand and closed my eyes, drifting on my buzz.
“I thought of something,” he said after a few minutes. “Next time I’m going to tape your mouth shut. I think it’s more realistic… Otherwise why wouldn’t you just yell out?”
Nodding sleepily I smiled. “Sure. I think that’s fine. I’ll just make sure to shave that day. Or we could just pretend like we do with the knockout drug… I’m up for either.”
Patrick settled next to me and I pulled his head onto my shoulder, holding him close. He played with the mess in my chest hair.
“Did you like the bit about the fist?” he asked, sounding almost shy.
“Did I? Shit, what do you think sent me over?” I kissed the top of his head. “I love your dirty mouth.”
I loved more than his mouth, of course. We were a one in a million fit, the pairing of a lifetime, soul mates, and every time we indulged in our particular twisted kink, I think I fell in love with him all over again. I grinned wide, stroking his hair.
“Ok… if I had one complaint—and it’s a tiny, insignificant complaint—but do you really think that ‘The Watcher’ would say fat cock? Sounds too low brow to me. What about just saying big cock?”
Patrick laughed.
“Whatever makes you happy, Eric. You know I'll do it for you.”
Warning: Non-con elements
I woke up with a start, and it took me a few confused seconds to remember why I couldn’t see or move. Naked except for my socks and jock, I was blindfolded and tied to a chair in my living room.
I licked my lips and swallowed a few times trying to wet my throat. My mind felt sluggish, and the acrid, medicinal taste in my mouth gave me a good idea why that was.
I turned my head, casting about blindly, trying to pick up sound or scent—anything that would tell me whether I was alone in the room… but I knew I wasn’t.
It was that prickling feeling, a throwback to when man wasn’t an apex predator, the one that makes you turn your head in a crowd or pulls you from a deep sleep. I was being watched.
My heartbeat was so loud in my ears that I nearly missed the light footfall to my right.
“I know you’re there.”
The laugh was deeper than I’d imagined it would be, and when he spoke, his voice more cultured.
“And how does that make you feel?” He was standing directly in front of me. “Are you afraid of me?”
I shook my head once.
“You’re not afraid of what I’m here to do to you?” He sounded amused. He knew I was lying.
I shifted, testing the ropes. I could barely move. He was thorough.
When he spoke next, he sounded much closer, as if he had taken a seat or crouched down in front of me. I thought I could feel the heat of his body on my inner thighs, his breath brushing my skin.
“We’ve been chatting online for months, Eric. You’ve told me so much about you… Did you think I wouldn’t be able to track you down?”
When I’d first stumbled upon SociopathWorld.com, I’d only intended to do a little research for an article I was writing, but a series of comments led to further discussions over instant messenger with a man who called himself simply “The Watcher”. He was a self-avowed psychopath and sadist and I quickly became fascinated by our lengthy conversations.
Until he said he wanted to rape me.
His hand touched my knee and I flinched, but I couldn’t move away. He chuckled.
“You’re as handsome as your pictures.” He stroked my thigh. I heard the sound of a zipper. “Ah and you smell so good. Like fear. Did I tell you I could smell fear? It makes my cock stiff.” He let out a long sigh. “I’m touching myself right now. I’m stroking my cock, thinking about how hard I’m going to fuck you with it. How much I’m going to enjoy hurting you.”
I let out a small, frustrated growl and shook my head. His hand inched further up my thigh and he ran his fingers along my covered cock. I clenched my teeth, disgusted and terrified.
“Get the fuck off me you fucking pervert.”
His hand retreated and he laughed, obviously enjoying himself. I thought I could hear him jacking off.
Struggling against the ropes again, I was startled when the futon shifted beneath me. Then I realized what was happening—he was dragging it away from the wall to recline it… to get me into a better position.
“You’re probably good and tight, a nice straight boy like you.”
Panic was starting to steal my breath; I was almost gasping.
“I’ll give you money… anything. Just don’t…”
He just laughed. Then I felt something metal touch my inner thigh and I let out a whimper. The loud schlick and sudden cold air on my balls told me that he’d just cut through my jock. Probably with the kitchen shears. I tried to squirm away from his touch as he pushed the material out of the way, choking when his hand circled my cock.
I turned my head to the side as he began to fondle me. Stroking my cock. Tugging on my balls. Soon he worked a finger inside me and my asshole clenched hard around his knuckle. I was making this horrible moaning noise but I couldn’t stop.
“Oh yes. I’m going to make this hole mine.” It was nearly a purr. The finger pulled out and I heard his footsteps retreat. For a moment I was alone in the room. I lifted my head, wondering what he was doing, but the sound of a plastic lid being flicked open made my pulse race even faster. In seconds he was on top of me, his fingers snarled in my hair and his lubed up cock battering at me, forcing itself into my guts with one brutal push. I let out a yell, my whole body going stiff with pain and horror as he began to fuck me with hard thrusts.
“No no no no…” Tears filled my eyes, spilled down my cheeks. I couldn’t even shake my head. He had me pinned down. His sweat dripped on my face. The stink of him all over me.
All the while he spoke while he slammed his cock into me.
“Such a nice tight hole. I can feel you trying to fight me, Eric. Trying to push me out, but it’s not going to work. You’re just making it more pleasant for me. Oh so fucking tight.” He groaned and then laughed. “Problem is, I’m going to wear your hole out, aren’t I? Perfect little bound straight boy with your ass all blown out from taking my fat cock. But that’s ok, right? When you’re too loose to take my cock, I’m going to see how you like taking a fist.”
“Fuuuck…” I couldn’t hold back. My cock jerked and spat between us and I grunted with the force of my climax—with a gasp he fucked me hard for a few quick thrusts before straining against me, balls deep, a low moan in his throat.
He landed on top of me and we both lay there panting for a moment, but when I groaned in pain, Patrick lifted himself up on his elbows.
“Did I really hurt you?” he asked, tugging down my blindfold. His eyes were wide with worry.
I shook my head and winced. “Not really… but fuck you’re hurting me now. My arms.”
“Oh shit. Sorry!” Patrick rolled off of me and set to work untying the knots. It took a few minutes before I was free, and when the last rope came away, he began to massage my wrists. I could feel the tears drying on my face and the cum cooling on my chest.
I was completely blissed out.
“That was great,” I murmured and Patrick grinned at me, a flush in his cheeks from the praise. “Seriously great.” I squeezed his hand and closed my eyes, drifting on my buzz.
“I thought of something,” he said after a few minutes. “Next time I’m going to tape your mouth shut. I think it’s more realistic… Otherwise why wouldn’t you just yell out?”
Nodding sleepily I smiled. “Sure. I think that’s fine. I’ll just make sure to shave that day. Or we could just pretend like we do with the knockout drug… I’m up for either.”
Patrick settled next to me and I pulled his head onto my shoulder, holding him close. He played with the mess in my chest hair.
“Did you like the bit about the fist?” he asked, sounding almost shy.
“Did I? Shit, what do you think sent me over?” I kissed the top of his head. “I love your dirty mouth.”
I loved more than his mouth, of course. We were a one in a million fit, the pairing of a lifetime, soul mates, and every time we indulged in our particular twisted kink, I think I fell in love with him all over again. I grinned wide, stroking his hair.
“Ok… if I had one complaint—and it’s a tiny, insignificant complaint—but do you really think that ‘The Watcher’ would say fat cock? Sounds too low brow to me. What about just saying big cock?”
Patrick laughed.
“Whatever makes you happy, Eric. You know I'll do it for you.”
+++
Don't forget to let Bey know what you thought of The Watcher in the comments. BMB Reviews would like to thank him for celebrating with us!!
Author Bio:
Artist, Writer, Dog Lover.
Born and raised in a small coastal town in northern Québec, Bey spent his early summers on his uncle’s boat and running wild on the beaches of the surrounding islands, lighting fires and building huts out of driftwood and fishermen’s nets. As an adult, he eventually made his way to university and earned a degree in Art History with a strong focus on Anthropology. Primarily a portrait painter and graphic artist, Bey sat down one day and decided to write about the two things that he felt most passionate about: sex and the sea.
Bey currently lives in the wilds of Montréal with his best buddy, a spotty pit bull named Murphy.
Author links:
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To enter to win an ebook from Bey Deckard's backlist, please leave a comment on this blog post and let us know your name and a means of contacting you (e.g., email, Twitter handle, link to Goodreads account, etc.)
The giveaway is open until 10:00PM (Pacific time) on 11/18/15. Shortly thereafter, we will contact a winner whom we will select using a highly scientific "names in a hat" method (or, you know, an internet randomizer). Please respond to the winning notification within 48 hours or we will choose another winner.
Artist, Writer, Dog Lover.
Born and raised in a small coastal town in northern Québec, Bey spent his early summers on his uncle’s boat and running wild on the beaches of the surrounding islands, lighting fires and building huts out of driftwood and fishermen’s nets. As an adult, he eventually made his way to university and earned a degree in Art History with a strong focus on Anthropology. Primarily a portrait painter and graphic artist, Bey sat down one day and decided to write about the two things that he felt most passionate about: sex and the sea.
Bey currently lives in the wilds of Montréal with his best buddy, a spotty pit bull named Murphy.
Author links:
Website
Goodreads
Google Plus
Tumblr
YouTube
The giveaway is open until 10:00PM (Pacific time) on 11/18/15. Shortly thereafter, we will contact a winner whom we will select using a highly scientific "names in a hat" method (or, you know, an internet randomizer). Please respond to the winning notification within 48 hours or we will choose another winner.
I love Bey, he takes me to places I never dare to go. In just few paragraphs he did it again.... And then I remind myself he is a romantic fool, just like me. We are sick bastards. Love it.
ReplyDeleteDam. Joining Lorix in the shower, errrr...perhaps I should reword that?
ReplyDeleteNope. It's perfect as is. >:D
DeleteThat was... I'm speechless. Wow. I loved the non-con and had no idea where it was going and then where it went, turned me all gooey. Goodness, but this was so good. Well done.
ReplyDeleteWow.... that was freaking awesome!!!
ReplyDeleteReally enjoyed it.
Thanks for the giveaway.
tamikamclaurin(at) hotmail(dot) com
What a twist! I so did not see that glorious ending at all. I'm glad Eric got exactly what he was looking for. Really awesome short fic. Would love a chance at one of Bey's books, thanks. legacylandlisa@gmail.com
ReplyDeletedark and twisted! yummy!
ReplyDeleteleetee2007(at)hotmail(dot)com
Wow! That was so hot! I really like kinky couples...
ReplyDeletesusanaperez7140(at)gmail(dot)com
A great fan fic from Bey. That was twisted, but hot...thank you for sharing it with us.
ReplyDeletejczlapin@gmail.com
Fantastic, Bey. Thanks for sharing!
ReplyDeleteThis contest is over! We thank you guys for stopping by!! *whispers* we can tell. ;P
ReplyDeleteCongrats to the winner - Lee Todd!!!
We have plenty of open giveaways and more panned for the rest of anniversary month! stick around!