Public Displays of Affection by Mychael Black

Public Displays of Affection by Mychael Black

Public Displays of Affection

by Mychael Black

Razor’s Edge Press

eBook ISBN: 06533-02101

Eight men, four public venues, tons of hot action.

Whether it’s a dark movie theater or a snow-covered park, these men have a thing for sex in public places. In “Opposites Attract” a long-haired rocker finds himself the object of a jock’s affection in the middle of a movie theater. “Starting Over” for one man leads to hot chocolate and the best blowjob of his life in a snowy park. A Dom puts his beloved sub through sweet pain in “Birthday for a Slave.” And finally, two sword-fighting instructors give in to their mutual attraction during a RenFaire in “Faire Game.”

The four stories in this collection were previously published under the name Kay Derwydd. They have been re-edited for release in this collection.

Note: This title has no chapter breaks. Please enjoy the first scene.

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Scene One

I tugged against the ropes, testing the strength of the knots. When I realized there was no give in them, I groaned quietly. The room was dark, but I knew the layout well. Or at least I usually did. The blindfold made me terribly disoriented. I wanted to lick my lips — they were dry as sandpaper — but all I could do was swallow. The bit was a punishment for whimpering. I had tried not to do it, but it had been so hard.
I shifted as much as the soft ropes would allow, gasping when the nylon grew taut and tugged at the base of my cock. As the rope slid along the crease of my ass, it grazed over my hole — my achingly empty hole — and I sucked in a breath as I bit down hard on the leather bit. Then the blindfold was removed. I blinked several times in an effort to reorient myself.
In front of me, a cigarette was lit, illuminating a stern face. The man with the cigarette smiled.
“You’re doing well.”
I shuddered; I couldn’t help it. His voice slid over my senses like a ribbon of silk as dark as his ebony hair. Every drag from the cigarette surrounded his face with a soft red glow. High cheekbones, full lips, deep blue eyes. He was perfection; da Vinci’s Virtruvian Man. And despite the appearance of the situation, I knew he was mine.
“Thank you, Master,” I answered obediently around the bit. He smiled again and my cock twitched in response.
He reached over and put out his cigarette, then switched the lamp on. The area between us flooded with golden yellow light. I watched breathlessly as he uncurled from his chair. In reality, he was only 5’9”, shorter than me, but in moments like this, he towered over me like a god.
Two hours. I had been in this position for two hours as he did nothing but watch me. I only knew it had been two hours because we started at nine and it was already eleven, or fifteen minutes after, to be exact. He circled me slowly, his fingertip tracing the lines of the ropes, his handiwork. The collar around my neck protected my skin there, but the rest of my body was bare, tender flesh exposed to the ropes. To him. He stopped behind me, and I shivered as his fingers slid down my spine, following the two lines of rope as they disappeared beneath me, between my buttocks.
He slipped his fingers beneath the ropes and I braced myself for the pull. It didn’t come. Instead, I felt him slide his fingers up and down the ropes, bowing them out just enough for my breath to catch as they tugged at my cock. My hands, bound together at my chest, tightened into fists, but I knew not to pull. Two ropes connected them to my neck, and to my cock, a never-ending circuit of soft nylon to torture me while he watched. Every move sent shocks through my body.
He walked around to stand before me and slipped a finger under my chin, lifting my head to meet his consuming gaze. He crouched before me — he never knelt — and reached around to unbuckle the strap for the bit. He pulled it out slowly, but I knew not to lick my lips. It was his body, and he would ease the pain however he saw fit. I could only wait… and hope. Those lips came close to mine but didn’t touch me. His tongue snaked out to lick my parched lips, and I could do nothing but take it, without returning the kiss.
God, I wanted to touch him. To taste him.
Then his lips touched mine, giving me the permission I so desperately sought. I swiped my tongue across his lips, stifling the moan when I tasted the sharp sweetness of clove. His tongue slipped out to meet mine, and all the while, our eyes remained open, our gazes locked. When he pulled away, I wanted to scream, beg, cry, anything — just to taste again, to slide my tongue between those sweet lips.
Please, Kynan… Let me out. Let me touch.
He stood, his crotch level with my mouth. Beneath that layer of slick vinyl, a beautiful prize awaited me… if I pleased him first. Slender fingers traced the outline of a hard cock, and my hungry gaze followed their every move. A soft chuckle from above taunted me, then he stepped away. When I felt a hand on my arm, I knew it was time to stand. As I did, the ropes pulled and I cried out, caught on a razor sharp edge between pleasure and pain. Kynan just smiled and turned me around. When I saw what awaited me, my knees grew weak.
As we walked, he untied the ropes, and by the time we reached the table, I was free. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief, then nervousness set in as Kynan patted the leather-padded tabletop. I turned and jumped up onto the end and he pushed me gently to my back as he placed my feet into the stirrups. He moved around the table, securing me with thick Velcro straps — one on my chest, one on my stomach, two on each arm, and two on each leg. Then he walked back to stand at the end.
“Open your legs for me.”
Not, spread your legs, but open your legs. He stroked my legs, starting at my knees and worked downward, parting my thighs slowly as he went. The stirrups parted and locked into place, leaving me open and exposed to whatever he wished. I watched as he squeezed a generous amount of gel on two fingers, and then he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the head of my cock.
His fingers traced circles over my balls as his gaze slid up to hold mine. ”Melys.” Sweet. He slid his fingers down to circle over my hole slowly. ”Prydferth.” Beautiful. Then those fingers slid inside, taking my breath away. ”Fy.” Mine.
I tried to rock my hips and he chuckled softly, keeping his fingers in just to the first knuckle, just enough to torment me. His black hair spilled over my stomach and tickled my hips as his tongue blazed a trail up the hard length of my cock. I bit my lower lip hard enough to draw blood in a desperate attempt to keep from begging. The words were on the tip of my tongue, threatening to fall and inevitably get me into trouble all over again.
Prydferth,” he purred at the base of my cock. He pushed his fingers deeper and, had my body not been strapped down, my hips would have left the table. He worked his fingers in and out, twisting them inside me, every stroke brushing my gland but not giving me release.
I whimpered and started shaking, unable to stop it. My fingers curled into fists, then uncurled as each touch sent a bolt of sensation shooting up my spine like quicksilver. I needed to come, but I knew better than to beg for it. I gritted my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut, fighting back the orgasm that was rapidly building. Then Kynan pulled his fingers out. I sobbed in frustration.

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Changeling Press