of the kitchen drawers and Stefan almost stumbles from the sudden lack of support. "Where do you keep the knives?" Master wants to know. Beneath the hood, Stefan closes his eyes and takes a deep, shuddery breath. So many questions ... testing me, Stefan reminds himself. He hears Master opening drawers, cursing when he can't find what he's looking for. You're here for me, Stefan wants to say. Tear through the suit with your teeth if you have to, just get back to me.

"A-ha." A drawer closes and Stefan waits to be touched. When Master returns, though, he grabs Stefan's upper arm in a stern fist and pulls him along to another spot in the kitchen. Stefan follows, obedient -- what else can he do? He loves this attention, the details, the thought behind each movement. The latex binds him into his own inner world where Master looms as the only reality. His hands are all Stefan can feel; his voice, all Stefan hears. Without sight, his other senses have taken over and he can even sense Master breathing, as if they're both part of the same beast.

When Master stops, Stefan bumps into him. "Down," Master commands, the strong hand against Stefan's back forcing him to bend at the waist until he finds himself facedown on the kitchen table. Booted feet kick his legs apart, spreading them wide. Master rubs at his ass, seeking entry. "Let me at this apple bottom of yours," he says, stroking between Stefan's legs. Once or twice the tips of his fingers brush Stefan's balls and he gasps. Now, he thinks, the word a litany in his mind. Now, take me now, Jesus Master, now! If only he could beg out loud ...

Finding a spot he likes, Master pinches the latex and pulls it away from Stefan's skin. "Hold still," he cautions. Stefan hears the snip snip of scissors and catches his breath, his mind a whirl of white panic. What -- "Trust me."

The scissors pierce the latex easily. For the briefest moment Stefan feels a cold blade of steel on his heated flesh, then the latex tears enough for Master to throw the scissors aside and work at the material with his hands. The latex splits a bit more, gaping above Stefan's puckered hole. "There you are," Master says with a laugh. Stefan laughs too, but the sound dissolves into a sharp intake of breath when Master's hot tongue licks beneath the latex to taste him. His legs slide wider apart, he sinks into the table, his entire body numbs from desire and lust and his cock stands tall as Master rims him. "So tender," he sighs, the words kissed into Stefan's buttocks. His tongue delves under the latex to touch the base of Stefan's sac and saliva trickles down in its wake. Soft, maddening, Master's tongue swabs Stefan's ass, wetting him, readying him.

Then he stands, his touch gone, and Stefan sobs with need. "Puh --" he starts, please, but he catches himself in time and bites back the rest. Please. He hears a belt buckle hit the floor and a second later, the cool tip of a huge cock pokes his ass. His sphincter contracts, his muscles work to draw Master in, but he's no longer in charge here. Master holds off, probably enjoying the sight of a half-hidden ass flexing beneath his dick, who knows? Time stops, folds in on itself, turns back, and Stefan's crying now, hot tears burn the hood that blinds him, please. When one finger finally eases inside