Am I in Danger?

You glance out the window and see that it's getting late; the sun has gone down and the streetlights are on. Having only recently moved to this city, your friends back home and online recommended you look for social meets to help you meet locals. A great idea, on paper, but a bit harder for someone as shy as you. You mustered up the effort to get there but, two hours later, all you have to show for it are sore feet from standing around and a belly full of baked goods.

You sigh and head for the exit of the cafe. Everyone already seems to know everyone else, or at least they may as well, given how quickly everyone fell into groups but you. Of course, the situation isn't helped by your mostly-subconsious avoidance of the other attendees, who are probably all very nice people, it's just your social hangups, blah blah blah. Maybe it was a mistake to move here.

You're barely aware of your surroundings as you approach the door, eyes half-focused on the floor. Your progress, however, stops when an obstacle is thrust into your path: a leg clad in a chunky, black boot.

"Aw, leaving already?"

Your eyes follow the leg up to its body, gliding over tight cutoffs on thick, muscular thighs. You note the studded belt as you pan up a band tee with its sleeves cut off, exposing firm arms, one of which ends in a hand which is actively tilting your chin up towards its owner's face. The hyena grins at you, a glint of danger in their eyes.

"Did you just come for the snacks? Or is someone a bit shy?"

Your focus darts between their sharp eyes, their thoroughly pierced ears, and that toothy grin. While you struggle to remember how to talk, they effortlessly guide you by the chin to the wall, planting their other hand firmly beside your head, blocking your path to the door.

"You know, it's generally considered rude not to answer when someone talks to you," they tease; you can tell they don't mean it that seriously, but the power in their words snaps you out of your daze all the same. "Let's start with something easy. I'm Hollis. What's your name?"

You manage to stammer out your response, and they nod. "Good job!" A couple gentle pats on your cheek accompany their praise, their other hand still blocking your escape. "Well, let me know if I'm coming on a bit too strong, but if you're leaving anyway, how about you come back to my place?"

You feel the warmth creep across your face as the satisfaction oozes out of theirs, and find that you can't stop the timid smile that betrays your excitement as you avert your gaze. This is new territory, but new territory is part of why you moved here in the first place.

"I've had my eye on you all night, you know. I haven't seen you around before, and I love," they lean in and whisper in your ear, "new toys."

They finally move their hand from the wall, planting it firmly on their hip. Your eyes dart toward the door as the thought crosses your mind: Am I in danger? They definitely notice, but seem to give you a moment to process the situation. You're not sure it's long enough.

Content that you're not about to run away, they step a little closer and take ahold of your hand; their grip is firm. "So what do you say? My place? Have a little fun?"

You're not sure how to respond. Well, you are, the answer is yes; yes, yes, please, yes. But it's swirled up in a heap with your usual shyness, the intensity of the situation, that slight fear… You shuffle your feet and look down and away, your face just as warm and smile just as visible.

They tsk and cup your cheeks, tilting your head to face them directly. "Now, now, I need to hear a yes or a no. If you want to come back to my place and see where things go, say 'Yes, Hollis.' If you don't, you can just say no and leave. I won't chase you, I promise," which is a statement that rings a bit hollow when delivered with a wink.

Your voice catches in your throat. You try to get it out. You stammer. You bite your lip. You finally close your eyes and take a deep breath. "Y-Yes, Hollis," you finally manage.

A bigger, toothier, but somehow less dangerous grin splits their face. "There we go!" They wave to someone (you can't tell whom) before leading you out of the building by your hand.

As you walk alongside them, your hand still in theirs, they snicker. "Shy one, aren't you?"

You nod, letting out a sheepish chuckle. You feel like you have a bit more of your wits about you, finding their firm grip reassuring. At the very least, someone in this situation knows what they're doing. It doesn't have to be you. Out of habit, you apologize.

"It's okay," they say, giving your hand a squeeze. "The shy ones always make the best toys."

You feel your heart do a flip and subsequently struggle to keep up with conversation along the way. They ask the basics: where are you from, when did you move, how are you liking the city, are you still unpacking, wait is this the first conversation you've had with someone since you moved? They laugh hard at that and give your hand another squeeze. "Oh, I'm going to have fun with you!"

Second thoughts cross your mind, of course; you're accustomed to your usual stranger-avoidance instincts, but they're harder to fight than usual. A nagging voice in the back of your head tries to convince you that this isn't a false alarm; that going home with a stranger could be a very bad idea. Still, that firm grip leads you several blocks to an apartment building, into the elevator, and up to the door of Hollis's apartment.

"Last chance to run away, little toy," they say with that grin, those sharp, almost hungry eyes. You don't. They unlock the door and hold it open, gesturing for you to go in first. You do. They close and lock the door behind themself, and you once again can't help but think: Am I in danger?

"Want anything to drink? I don't imagine you're too hungry after all those snacks," they tease, "but I can throw some food together if you want."

You decline the food and, for now, the drink. They nod and pour one for themself, along with a glass of water. "It's always important to stay hydrated," they explain, before taking a sip of what you're pretty sure is rum, but it's hard to tell at a glance, and you're inexperienced to start with on that front.

You look around the room. A somewhat worn couch, a thoroughly beat-up recliner, a modest television, band posters and ticket stubs on the walls, bong on the coffee table, stereo in one corner, guitar on a stand in the other; you can't help giggling, it fits them to an extent that's almost cartoonish.

"Hey, that's what I like to hear, someone's feeling good! Though I'm not sure how to feel about you laughing at my apartment. That's a bit rude, you know?"

You immediately apologize and they burst out laughing. "Hah, were you really thinking something mean? I might just have to punish you for that!"

With another sip of their drink, they approach and wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you close. Your lips suddenly lock; you can tell from the taste that it is, in fact, rum that they're drinking. You don't know enough about rum to know if it's cheap or not.

"Hey," they begin, giving you a squeeze. "Come with me, I want to show you something cool. I think you'll dig it."

Before you get a chance to agree like you were going to, you're led by the hand on your lower back through their apartment. They point out various rooms: bath "for later," toilet "if you need it," bedroom "if you end up crashing," and, finally, they stop outside the closed door of another room, giving your butt a squeeze before they open the door and step through the threshold.

"I'll be honest, I didn't think I'd be bringing a cutie home tonight, so I have a bit of setup to do."

The interior is dark, the only light coming from the hallway; if there are windows, they're thoroughly blocked. Am I in danger? The room is bathed in an eerie red glow. "There we go, couldn't see shit," they say with a chuckle. You're able to get a good look at them for the first time since you met, that familiar warmth creeping across your face as you survey their physique. The singular, glowing light source accentuates all their contours: every curve of those thick, strong legs, topped by a remarkable ass; the definition of their arms on full display. You can tell they work hard to look this good.

Somehow oblivious to your ogling, they finish whatever you weren't watching them do and a low, soft, warm light fills the room, pulling you back to your senses. "So," they say, turning to face you, "check this out."

You timidly take their outstretched hand, that now-familiar firm grip gently tugging you into the room and closing the door behind you. "I know I'm intimidating, but you don't need to be that scared, sweet thing."

You start to look around when suddenly hands reach from behind, one gently squeezing your breast as the other slips under your shirt, their claws gliding gingerly across your stomach. Their voice is low but rough in your ear. "I promise, you're going to love this. How about you get these clothes off? Or do I need to do that myself?"

You feel their fearsome teeth glide across your neck as they kiss you, whispering, "I can't promise I'll be gentle with them, you know? Or maybe you want it a little rough."

A firm but shallow bite elicits an audible gasp as you finally notice how hard you are; as if on cue, their hand slips down your waistband, gently wrapping around you through your underwear.

They seem to sense your hesitation, whether you do or not, and their hands drift up to the lowest button on your shirt. "Here," they offer, undoing the button. "I'll help get you started."

You nod and raise your own hands to the next button up, following their lead. They give your butt a gentle smack and nonchalantly tug off their own shirt, revealing perky breasts and a surprisingly soft tummy. "Good toy, show me everything."

You look around the room as you finish removing your shirt. Having moved on to their shorts, you see that Hollis has put their shirt on a rack against the wall and follow suit. The walls seem to be cushioned, or at least covered in something soft. Continuing along the wall, you see drawers; a neon sign of the word "LIVE!" which, if not for its relatively small size, wouldn't look out of place outside a sex club; and a large mirror facing the centerpiece of the room: a large chair, slightly oddly shaped, made of metal with cushioning.

At a glance, it wouldn't look out of place in an office, but on further examination it appears a bit more clinical, if anything. It has knobs and levers which seem attached to all manner of adjustment mechanisms, with cushioned arms attached only at the back, leaving an opening under them. It takes a moment, but you notice there are small metal rings on the arms and legs, along with a pair on the back.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Those confident hands helpfully remind you that you were removing your underwear, even going so far as to help. "Totally custom. Very expensive, but completely worth it."

Now nude, Hollis leads you to the mirror. "I'll be up front: I like to tie up cute toys like you. That's what I have in mind for you, tonight. Would you like that?"

You look down, avoiding your own eyes, but their firm hand lifting your chin insists that you see how aroused you are. The blush across your face, your hard cock; you're practically quivering. Yes, you think. "Yes," you say.

"Yes what? Say what you want me to do."

You see yourself squirm. "Yes, I… I want you to tie me up."

"Good. And you want me to slip a gag in that sexy mouth, right?"

You see yourself bite your lip and nod.

"And then you want me to do whatever I want with you, as you sit there, completely helpless, totally at my whim." It's a statement, not a suggestion.

You close your eyes and look down, but their hand tilts your chin right back up, reminding you to look at how much you're enjoying this. "Well? Aw, having trouble? Say, 'yes, Hollis.'"

You shiver as they gently drag a claw down the center of your back. You barely manage to quiver out, "Yes, Hollis."

"Good toy! Let's get you dressed up, then."

You can't help it; you cover your face as they step away. It takes a moment for your brain to process what they just said. Dressed up?

You work up the courage to look and see them pulling all manner of straps out of one of the drawers. You can't really tell what any of it is. "I don't really have the patience for tying knots," they say with a snicker, "so you get a fun little outfit tonight."

To start off, they slip a sturdy collar around your neck; black, with a slight sheen and a few rings on it. They secure it carefully, cinching it shut at the back. It's tight, but doesn't hurt, and you can breathe. "There, that should fit well."

You nod and they rub your cheek before cinching matching cuffs on your wrists and ankles. Next is a harness, its straps thinner than the cuffs but plenty sturdy. Putting it on is a bit of a process, but they confidently get you into it; they've definitely done this many times. Additional straps are slipped around your upper arms and thighs; it takes a couple tries to find the right size, but they figure it out.

Finally, they step back and gesture for you to look in the mirror. You see the black straps crossing your chest, the bands around your arms and legs, the cuffs, the collar, the whole ensemble... And feel a rush through your body. It dawns on you that you've never even really considered doing something like this, and here you are doing it with someone you just met. They haven't even told you about themself! Am I in danger? You don't really care, anymore, though; you're seeing yourself in a new light and it's getting you very excited.

"You look incredible, cutie. I knew you were toy material!" An endearingly triumphant laugh, followed by a more devious snicker as they rummage through another drawer.

"Open your mouth," they say upon return. You don't even think about it before you open not-quite-wide-enough; they slip the ballgag in, pushing your mouth open just a tiny bit more than you'd expected, and move behind you to cinch it. Seemingly content with their work, they peek out from behind your head, locking eyes with you in the mirror. "How's that, good?"

You think so, so you nod. "Good! You won't need your words tonight, toy. Now, bend over for me, I'm going to put this in your butt."

Your heart skips and, after some brief hesitation on your part and encouragement from those sharp eyes of theirs, you bend down, only realizing after that they didn't show you what they're putting in you. You shiver as the not-unfamiliar feeling of cool, slick lubricant greets your hole before a firm toy slips in. It's not the thickest thing that's been in there, but you certainly feel it.

"Oh, this is going in no problem! Maybe I should size up a bit," they tease, slipping the gently tapered toy in further until your ass abruptly swallows it to its flared base. They give it a few firm presses and a slight jiggle, snickering. "Come on, time for the main event!"

They guide you upright, then toward the chair. You're not sure you've ever walked with a plug in, and it's a strange feeling, but the distance is short. They help you into the seat before kneeling down to adjust it until it fits you perfectly. Standing up, they give you a look over and nod, seemingly content with their adjustments. "Ready?"

Before you even start nodding, the ring on your cuff is linked to the ring on the arm of the chair. By the time you've finished nodding, the other is. Next thing you know, they've spread your legs apart and are attaching your ankles to the front legs of the chair. They look up at you, kneeling between your legs with that grin on their face. "Now it's really too late to run away, toy. You're mine."

Am I in danger? You tug against your bindings, which don't yield at all. You can move your torso, somewhat, but it's uncomfortable beyond a certain range, and your wrists and ankles are firmly in place. You grunt through the gag, attempting to pull free, to no avail. "Oh? Did you just realize how much control you just handed a stranger?"

You did. You don't know them. You just met them for the first time not even an hour ago. Goodness, you're even new in town with no local connections. You must have really wanted this!

"A very trusting toy. I knew you were going to be fun!" They snicker and secure your thighs to the arms of the chair from below, further limiting your movement. At this point, the most you can do is powerlessly wriggle.

"I could do anything I want to you, and you're completely powerless to stop me," they snicker, locking eyes with you. You can see the hunger in that sharp gaze, those deep, dark irises threatening to swallow you up. You try to say something, but obviously cannot, just making muffled sounds around the gag. This elicits more snickering from Hollis as they stand up and make their way behind you.

You struggle against your bindings, suddenly second guessing all of your life choices, when they wrap their arms around you. "Sit still a moment, toy."

Your struggles subside and you obey. What else can you even do? Besides, it's not like they've actually said they're going to do anything to you. They're probably just still teasing you, like they have been all night, you reassure yourself.

"Good toy," they whisper in your ear as they secure your harness to the rings on the back of the chair, taking the last of your control from you. "No sense getting scared this late into the game, you wanted this. You said so yourself! You want me to do whatever I want with you, as you sit here, completely helpless. You wanted this, so I promise, you're going to love it."

You don't know if you feel reassured or scared. Every part of your brain is screaming something different. You find yourself struggling against your binds, making absolutely no progress. Whines and pleads struggle to escape around the ball in your mouth, and certainly nothing intelligible. You're as hard as ever, and dripping.

The hyena circles around you, eyeing their work and idly touching themself. The most you can manage is turning your head to follow them, but that can only take you so far. You're not an owl, after all. After a few satisfied laps, you feel that once-reassuringly firm grip on your chin. "You're mine, now. Anything that happens after this is my choice, not yours," they declare, caressing your cheek from behind. "How does it feel?"

You meaninglessly whine. You struggle pointlessly against your bindings. You've never been more aroused in your life. As if they can tell, Hollis snickers in your ear before giving your neck a gentle nibble. "You say it feels good. You know, you need a lot of help with your words, toy. But that's okay," you hear as they release your cheek. "Like I said, you don't need them, tonight."

Their hands abruptly reach around your chest and grab ahold of your breasts, squeezing. You feel their hot breath on your neck as their hands knead you, thumbs occasionally pressing and rubbing against your pert nipples. Another gentle nibble precedes a low, husky growl, "These belong to me, now."

Between the short circuit in your brain and their grip on your body, you lose yourself in a haze of what you can only describe as pleasure. One hand loosens its grip and confidently slides down across your stomach; firmly, slowly, rubbing your tummy before continuing down to the base of your cock, giving it a gentle squeeze before traveling further to cup your balls. "These are mine, now, too."

You watch in the mirror as they touch you, feeling as they please. You can see the blush on your face and the pre oozing down onto their hand between your legs. This is you? You look like this? You see yourself shiver, embarrassed and aroused by your display.

They massage your sack, their other hand departing your breast to join the first below your tummy, wrapping around your drippy cock. Overwhelmed, you instinctively try to buck into their hand, but your restraints render your attempts futile. The low snickering in your ear suggests they find your frustration amusing. "Aw, can't do it yourself, toy? Guess that'll happen when you let a stranger tie you to a chair, huh?"

They release their hold on you and step away, leaving you to squirm, the anticipation building in you as you wonder what's coming next. You look at them in the mirror as they watch you, trying to get some hint, some clue, but you receive nothing. You try to ask something, but it doesn't really matter what it was because all the gag permits is meaningless babble. You whimper and whine, struggling against your restraints involuntarily. Finally, with a snicker, they make their way around you to block your reflection.

"Since you're being such a fun toy, I'll go ahead and help you," they proclaim, slowly making their way between your legs and kneeling down before you, those dark, sharp eyes locked on yours. "As fun as it is to watch you hopelessly squirm in your seat, I did promise you'd love it, and I intend to follow through on that."

You'd thank them if you could. You aren't sure what you even feel anymore, your mind a fog of blaring alarms, boiling heat, and sticky arousal, but you're so, so thankful that they're going to help you. But since your words have left you for the night, enthusiastic nodding and your desperate moans will suffice.

They take their time settling in, running their hands along your thighs, your calves, your stomach. "Oh, I almost forgot!"

With the click of a small remote, the plug in your ass starts vibrating. What was a dull-but-present fullness has suddenly jumped to an intense buzzing against your insides. It's strong, and deeper than you're used to from plugs. You can't help writhing in your binds, letting out an embarrassingly sloppy moan alongside a gush of pre, which elicits a devious snicker. "There we go, that's much better!"

They lean in, their breath hot and damp on the base of your cock. You feel their nose press against you before they inhale deeply, followed by their warm, wet, firm tongue sliding around and across your sack. It feels incredible. For a brief moment you almost feel like you're in control, but as you go to move your hands, you find that they predictably remain in place. Hollis is in charge of everything that happens, now, just like they said.

Their tongue and mouth explore you as they please: tender kisses planted on your taint, their mouth enveloping your balls as they roll them around inside, their nose nuzzling your shaft, all while that plug mercilessly vibrates inside. You feel so incredibly senstitive to every little touch, involuntarily jerking against the chair's unyielding hold on your body as moans and grunts and whines force their way passed the ball in your mouth as the drool drips down onto your chest.

The onslaught on your senses abruptly stops, save for the buzzing in your ass. You feel Hollis panting on your cock, warm and damp. Looking down at them, you see that those eyes, still sharp and hungry, are no longer focused on yours; their new target is rock hard and oozing mere inches away. They hide behind their lids as Hollis drags their tongue up your length, slowly, finishing with a kiss on your tip. The firm muscle curls around the head of your cock, their drool mixing with your pre as they slide you into their mouth, just an inch at first, avoiding those fearsome teeth.

Their eyes slowly open, once again locked on yours as the hyena slides you further into their maw, another inch, then out, then in, their head slipping into a slow but rhythmic bobbing, applying generous suction all the while. Those dark eyes pierce into yours and you find it hard to look away, the thick blanket of pleasure burying your senses, dulling your usual aversion. You're their toy. They don't even need to say it. You know it.

They bob lower, your cock slipping deeper for a fleeting moment, before resuming their more shallow movements. This sends a shiver through you and your body struggles against your binds on its own, your remaining wits a mere passenger to Hollis's desires. The moans slipping past your gag are sloppy and you can't help feeling embarrassed by them as drool drips down onto your chest.

Another deep bob, then back to the shallow rhythm. Soon enough, another. They tease you with a taste of more, your cock twitching against their tongue, taking your pleasure under their control, the endless buzzing of your insides amplifying everything all the while.

Just when you get used to their controlled, even pace, only taking you deeper by tiny fractions, they take you all the way to the base, wriggling their tongue against your shaft, twisting their head, overloading every nerve in your body with a relentless assault. They resume their rhythmic bobbing, but so much deeper. You can feel the back of their throat, your toes stretch out, you feel it coming, you moan, loud, loud, trying to buck your hips to no avail, fighting helplessly against your binds, you feel it rising up in you, your whole body tenses, and you cum, hard; harder than you ever have, you think.

As if prepared, they smoothly back off, quickly wrapping a hand around your shaft, their mouth on your tip collecting your cum as they stroke you through the most powerful sensation you've ever experienced in your life. Your cock twitches in their firm grip as you let loose staccato blasts of your very essence, still struggling in the unrelenting seat, wet moans gushing out of you.

After a momentary eternity, they pull off your cock, the last of your load dribbling out as they lean up and towards you, reaching behind you to unlatch your gag, deftly removing it from your panting mouth before locking lips with you, forcing that firm tongue inside along with your own seed. The vibrations of the plug in your ass pair with the twitching of your muscles to ensure you're assaulted from both ends. Your mouth is promptly coated in yourself as your tongue loses a wrestling match with Hollis's. Seemingly content that they've forced it all back into you, they break the kiss and cover your mouth. "Swallow."

Overwhelmed, your body still twitching, you struggle against them, trying to turn your head away. Their other hand holds your head in place, pressing you back to the cushion by your forehead. "Swallow, toy."

Remembering who you belong to, you do as you're told. They release their grip on you before slipping their fingers in your mouth, gently prying you open to make sure. A finger slips under your wet, sticky tongue, your mouth is pulled open, your head tilted all around, and finally they remove their digits and give your cheek a gentle pat. "Good job!"

They replace the gag before you get a chance to say anything, latching it behind your head, and settle back into their position between your legs. With that devious grin, they look up at you and, maintaining eye contact, take your softening cock in their mouth to the base, sucking on it and sliding their tongue along and around it. Meanwhile, they press and tug and jiggle the plug still buzzing away inside you. In the mirror, you see yourself shake in the chair, your body completely overwhelmed as they stimulate you relentlessly until you're hard again. You lose track of the rest of the night, lost in a haze of sensation.