Part 1:
Sean looked at himself in the large full-length mirror in their bath. Starting with the shiny red high heeled pumps on his feet his gaze slowly travelled up along slender but muscular legs in black fishnet stockings. The tops clung to his thighs tightly and were held up by a thin black garter belt cinched just below his waist. He gave a slight turn, instinctively rolling his hips a bit, Shakira-style.
Assessing the fit from the half-rear, he saw his beautiful boyish ass sinfully accentuated by the black straps running along the sides, above and below - if you counted the seam of the stockings – and cutting in just a tiny bit, enough to leave a thin red line when he slipped his fingers beneath the waistband and pulled it an inch away. There was not much left of the pale cream-coloured lace panties from this side of things. They were torn, not by Viggo’s hands, but by his cock.
Viggo had first shoved them aside with his cock; Sean had felt the stretch and give of the material, the elastic bands scraping his skin. When Viggo drew out fully once, the thin rosé-cream skin of silk had slipped back and covered Sean’s hole. Viggo’s cock searched and pumped blindly, shut out by the soft thin layer of silk, and finally Viggo had literally fucked through it, like tearing up a hymen.
The rest of the panties respectfully stayed out of the way and were tangled up with the black straps, so the nicely modelled form of Sean’s buttocks, the perfectly round swell and strongly carved hollow at the sides, was presented like a piece of art in a frame.
A small trickle of Viggo’s semen drew a little shimmering snail trail between his legs. It was still fresh, and so was the testosterone smell it oozed, which mixed with a faint aroma of leather and a few lingering female-smelling molecules of the perfume that must have been applied to the panties.
He shifted back to get full view from the front again. The panties still covered parts of his crotch there – they had never been able to hold more than the base of his cock. Still almost fully erect, because Sean hadn’t come during this game, his member jutted out from the tiny panties, and his sac hung out heavily at both sides.
Sean had ‘almost’ come, in fact. And this time it wasn’t because of Viggo not allowing him to come. He suppressed his orgasm by his own device, simply because he didn’t want to accept that this kind of kink turned him on, as a man. Nevertheless, he had really lost himself in the role play. Viggo had bent him over the armrest of the sofa and fucked him hard. The general idea of the scene had been that Sean was a sexy secretary who slept with her boss or something like that, just some cheap porn fantasy. The initial dirty talk – around the mighty boss blackmailing his secretary into bending over for him - would soon have been forgotten, Viggo obviously content with drinking in the sight of sweet-transvestite-Sean and deflowering his panties, when Sean, struck by sudden inspiration, suddenly started whingeing, “Please, pay attention… pull out in time… please don’t come inside me… oh god, I’m so afraid I’ll get pregnant…”
There was a little irritation in Viggo’s rhythm, something like a hiccough in his thrusts, but he fast got over the shock and got off on it: “Yes, I’ll give you a big belly… I’ll simply thrust inside you until you take it all… take this…and this…”
Sean chuckled lowly at the memory. Yes, he sometimes tended to overdo the identification during their role games, but that came along with being an actor, didn’t it? For a moment he thought of Shakespeare’s time and pretty boys in female roles. Wouldn’t he have been good at that as a young actor?
Sean continued his self-study in the mirror. His hard belly was naked, his navel innocently blinking out between all the decadent erotic garments and lingerie.
Above, the corset pressed his ribs, tightly knotted at the back by Viggo. It ended right beneath his chest, letting the tiny pink nubs peek out above. The ‘fishbones’ in the black corset made a nice zigzag ornamentation.
Finally, Sean pushed back his tousled hair and looked at his face. Viggo had applied a bit of lipstick - not very much, and there was a faint smear at the corner of Sean’s mouth. Viggo had insisted on mascara, too. It intensified the luminous green of Sean’s eyes. There were also one or two small washed-out patches of black beneath his eyes. The make-up was not exaggerated, and the slight disorder and smear was not enough to look ridiculous; instead, there was something like a slutty charm about it.
Sean stared, fascinated. He had never particularly gotten off on cross-dressing kink; he only participated in it for Viggo’s benefit, or so he told himself, as part of an unspoken trade-off between them. The standing directive was that neither of them would ever back down from anything either of them wanted to try. So far, that worked well for them both. In the spirit of this agreement, Sean would get his way with Viggo later, after he let Viggo dress and use him like a doll.
But in that moment, meeting the kohl-lined green eyes in the mirror, something ‘happened’. Sean knew the effect from working on different roles he played in movies. Sometimes it was so much easier to approach a character when he was dressed and styled for the role, rehearsing in front of a mirror until he, Sean, ‘grew into’ and ‘filled’ the costume – a part of himself inhabited the character, a part of himself ‘was’ the character.
He had heard it happened to transsexual women, who, having glued on a moustache and checking themselves in the mirror, for the first time felt they saw their ‘real’ self - paradoxically in masquerade.
Sean took in his look beneath tinted lashes, his smile and lip-licking with kiss-swollen, paint-smeared lips.
He was a whore.
There was a whore in him, somewhere, and of course he had known that, but now he stood face to face with Sean-the-Whore for the first time. And it was nice to meet ‘her’.
‘Boromir, Slut of Gondor’. He came across the expression in the internet some day, and spontaneously had liked it. Boromir, Slut of Gondor. It sounded well, almost poetic and held a certain pathos, too, like a grand title, comparable to ‘The Whore of Bayblon’. He liked it, because at that time, he had slept around wildly; mostly it had been he doing the fucking, though, which was what he preferred with any other partner but Viggo. In his definition of slut that was one of the trademarks: he or she didn’t care much about who and where and how, only about getting fucked really often, preferably now.
He was like that. He needed sex. Sex was his outlet, his source of energy, his fuel station for self-esteem, his relaxation and workout. Sex had been about all of this – and nothing more – before Viggo. It had been a problem, since sex was about Viggo and therefore about love, that Sean couldn’t utilise sex like he had done before, when they were apart. He knew Viggo could live celibate for longer times than Sean considered healthy or even survivable, but what was Sean supposed to do? Ironically, it was he who wouldn’t have been able to forgive himself if he betrayed Viggo. To Sean’s utter annoyance, Viggo wouldn’t even have minded that much.
So now, he was a whore for Viggo’s cock. There were moments – or maybe it was his usual state of mind already – when he’d have done anything for a fuck with Viggo, anything to feel that big velvety steel deep inside and thrusting up his ass, anything…anything. Now he craved and longed for sex with Viggo, for being with Viggo… he was Viggo’s whore.
The plan had been to remove the clothes and the make-up and take a shower, then get back at Viggo in some form of his choice, but in a sudden change of mind, Sean turned, swung open the door like a diva demanding entry, and stalked back.
*
Part 2:
When Sean returned from the bathroom twenty minutes after he had left, Viggo was surprised that Sean hadn’t changed out of his female get-up. Sean hadn’t even cleaned his face of make-up smears. And yet, something had changed - Sean’s attitude and bearing.
Viggo had never seen him move like that on any occasion when he had forced, talked, persuaded, coaxed Sean into women’s clothes. There had always been a defiance-induced clumsiness in the way Sean acted ‘like a woman.’ The lack of identification was visible in every gesture, not in an unattractive way – but what Viggo saw now had an even stronger appeal.
This time, Sean waltzed in on his high heels like a natural born slut, with not a grain lost of his inborn grace. He stopped opposite to Viggo and leaned his head back against the wall, angling one knee to rest his high heel covered foot against the wall, too. Beneath half-closed lashes, he leered at Viggo.
It was a mocking, provocative pose, a street whore looking for customers, and Viggo wasn’t sure what to make of it. Instinctively, he knew Sean was playing a new game, and he had to find out which role he was supposed to incorporate.
“So, you’ve been out on the prowl hunting for cocks again, slut?” he tried. The stirring of Sean’s cock was better than an encouraging nod.
“And if so… Daddy?” Sean asked, his voice literally dripping scorn and defiance. Viggo blinked. With an obscene gesture, Sean touched his cock, proudly, manly in a primitive way, but at the same time he rubbed his body against the wall with a femininely snaking movement.
“Look at you, Sean. You’re a man, and yet you take it like a woman. You need to get fucked so much you even disguise yourself as a woman in order to tempt real men who wouldn’t fuck a guy… You humiliate yourself like a drug addict; you spread your legs for any random stranger, for any cock to ram inside you…”
Sean didn’t answer, just gave a sneer and continued to tease Viggo with slow, lascivious squirming.
“Come here!” ordered Viggo sternly. “I’ll discipline you. You need to be punished; your body needs a good hard spanking to exorcise the greedy lust.”
“You’ll never be able to beat the fag out of me, Father!” spat Sean. But he approached Viggo, sensuously swaying his hips on high heels with the professional skill of a catwalk model.
“Lay down over my lap…” Viggo said sharply. Sean snorted, but obeyed in resignation. He shifted a bit forth and back until his ass was the highest point, shamelessly presented to Viggo in all its glory. The sight was so erotic, the little panties torn and hopelessly in knots with the black straps holding the stockings. Viggo appreciatively stroked Sean’s ass and thighs, and felt in the crease.
“You’ve been ridden like a dirty whore.” Disgust vibrated in his voice. “Tell me, how often did you take it tonight, slut?”
He placed the first blow, then systematically spanked the trembling ass, slowly increasing in speed and strength. “How many men have fucked you? Did you take it on your back or on your hands and knees?” Viggo accentuated each question with one or two hard slaps on the reddening ass cheeks. “Did they fuck your mouth, too? Did you swallow it?”
Sean actually liked getting spanked, though of course he’d never admit to it loud. He wasn’t much into pain, at least not except on special occasions, but he liked a bit of a sting and burn, especially after a round of warm-up-sex. Viggo spanked him with so much consideration and feeling, precisely measured, matching Sean’s preference as only Viggo could do it, because Viggo knew every fibre and nerve of his body.
The only caveat was, of course, there was the humiliation of getting spanked and, much worse, the humiliation of liking the humiliation … But Sean could deal with it, because this was Viggo, and Viggo loved him strong and loved him weak, he loved his light side and his dark side, his virtue and vice, loved him on top and on bottom, when he was in a cheerful mood and when he was sad, when he was tired or full of energy. And, Sean knew, he could be anything he was with Viggo.
The slaps fell rhythmically, systematically, the loud flapping sound of palm on cheek-flesh turning Viggo on, like Sean was an instrument and he was a drummer, drumming himself into ecstasy.
A few more blows and Viggo stopped, already panting with effort and excitement. He felt Sean’s hard cock pressed against his naked thigh and wondered whether he could make Sean come like this, just from getting spanked. He knew it was the burning, searing, sizzling sensation that aroused Sean… which gave him the idea to try out a new kind of burn and blaze…
“Stand up.” Incredulous and reluctant, Sean did as he was told.
“Go to the kitchen; get a knife… and one of those ginger roots.”
*
Sean felt a bit shy as he had obeyed and sat down at the table – still gracefully, fluidly, but no longer with his sluttish attitude, more like an intimidated schoolgirl, eyes cast down.
“Peel it.”
Sean followed Viggo’s order, outwardly without hesitation, but Viggo could see the doubt and insecurity Sean felt about this in the slight trembling of his hand as he removed the hard, dirty outer layer of the vegetable spice and uncovered the glistening whitish inside.
It was a strange sight loaded with almost mythical meanings and double-meanings, the centuries-old contradiction of the sinful whore and the servile housemaid, both embodied by a man.
Viggo watched Sean with voyeuristic pleasure, took him in from toe to head. He noticed how long and slender Sean’s legs were, a quality accentuated even more by the high heels, and how fragile his ankles seemed. Again, the contrast of the black garters holding Sean’s stockings against the fair skin excited him. Sean worked on his task, head bowed, frowning a bit with concentration or inconvenience.
When he was ready, he looked up sideways at Viggo, a bit of anxiety in his glance, but more than that, trust. Then he got up with a graceful half-turn on his high heels and handed the spice over to Viggo.
A warm rush of pride filled Viggo’s heart. They had never done ‘figging’ before; Sean had no experience with that kind of punishment, but from hearsay he certainly knew that it was a literal pain in the ass – an excruciating torment. It was incredible, even more-so knowing Sean’s temperament, that the man didn’t protest nor even ask a single question, but simply obeyed.
Viggo was so touched and moved that he completely fell out of character for a moment, put the ginger aside and pulled Sean in a close embrace. “Oh, Sean…”
He stepped back and cleared his throat. He couldn’t leave the other man in a state of uncertainty anymore, so he picked up the ginger again and explained. “I won’t shove that up your ass – that’s far beyond fun. I’ll apply just a little bit of the juice on this …” he showed Sean the plug he had fetched out of a drawer while Sean was in the kitchen and rubbed a bit of ginger-fluid on it. “If you use only a bit of the essence, the effect is a slowly intensifying burn … come here on my lap again.”
With fluttering lashes, Sean stepped near and slowly bent over, offering his ass for punishment again. “Since you need to get fucked so much, slut –” Viggo’s voice was all edginess, he got back into character instantaneously. “You will get fucked and disciplined in one go.”
He lined up the plug and gave a light tap on the end. Sean moaned as the first inch penetrated him. Viggo gave a harder slap on the bottom of the plug, driving it all the way in. Sean’s ass muscles contracted convulsively. Every time Viggo put a plug inside him, he had to fasten it there somehow. Sean was very tight, even after a fuck, and his ass didn’t like to accept anything alien inside – the natural reflexes of his body worked against it. That was just fine with Viggo this time – Sean’s body continued to spill out the plug, and Viggo’s hard slaps shoved it back in again and again.
The plug fucked Sean mechanically, hitting his prostrate the same moment as Viggo’s big hand hit his already well-spanked ass-flesh, then sliding out a bit more slowly, until the next blow sent it back in. His skin burned and stung from the beating. After a minute of delay his asshole was set on fire, too, and the heat crept up inside him. His whole abdomen was in flames; he couldn’t even make out the difference between outside and inside anymore, burning through and through with lust-fire and erotic nerve-eruptions.
Viggo felt Sean’s hard cock rubbing and throbbing against his thigh. Sean was squirming on his lap, ripples running all over his skin; Sean’s moans formed a hot whisper: “Pleeeeaaaasssse…”
“Come for me, slut,” said Viggo – and with the first word scalding hot semen splashed against his thigh, shot after shot. Sean bucked on his lap, but Viggo continued to spank him, and with every slap on his ass another stripe of cum welled out, until his spent body slumped on Viggo’s knees.
Viggo tenderly lifted him and managed to drag him up on the sofa. There Sean lay – panties totally in shreds and nothing but frayed rags now, the stockings unclipped on one side, lipstick and mascara even more of a mess than before, heavily smeared lids slowly blinking over luminous green eyes, plug sticking out of his ass – he grinned and looked simply glorious.
Summary: Seam loses himself in role-play
Rated: NC-17
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: KinkChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 3108 Read: 1153
Published: 15 Aug 2009 Updated: 15 Aug 2009