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Pressure Point
By Psycho
Darkside had him. Again. No matter what Fenix did, Darkside always got him here in the end. Pinned down and helpless. Darkside was standing over him, looming. He dug strong fingers into the pressure point of Fenix’s wrist and obediently, predictably, Fenix flipped over, onto his front. Darkside knelt down, one knee expertly pinning his right arm down with nearly unbearable pressure to the nerve plexus just above the elbow. His left was folded uncomfortably high up on his back, the pain at his wrist never easing. Darkside was lightly trailing his free hand along Fenix’s side as he spoke.
“When will you learn, Fenix? The art of Jonin is not about brute force. It is an art form of delicacy, of balance. Of using the body, tuning it perfectly to your needs. It is about finding the most efficient way to cause pain.” And with a single finger, he touched a pressure point along Fenix’s side.
The pain was immense, endless, a huge red ball of agony pressing all the breath from his body. He gasped. Darkside changed the pressure, moved his hand slightly. “Or pleasure.” And Fenix gasped again, for an entirely different reason. “Like that, did you?”
Fenix didn’t know what to say. This was his teacher. His mentor. His master. He shouldn’t want this. He did, though. Since the night on the ice.
The pain returned. Sharper than before, if possible. Fenix’s eyes watered.
“You will answer me when I ask you a question. Understand?”
“Yes,” he managed to gasp out.
“And you will show me the proper respect.”
“Yes, sir.” Fenix wanted to fight this. He couldn’t. Didn’t know how. He swore he would learn, though. No matter what it took.
The unbearable pressure eased and the touch changed again, sending waves of ecstasy through him. Darkside followed the nerve down his side to his groin. Fenix couldn’t stop the small jerking motions Darkside was forcing from him. Darkside tightened the grip on his other wrist and the pain and the pleasure exploded against each other within him, leaving him sweating and shaking. A moan escaped him.
“Now, answer the question. Do you like this?”
“I…I don’t know. Sir.”
“Well, we have all night to find out.” Darkside pulled the sweaty silk cloth from Fenix’s forehead and used it to bind his wrists together, tightly, behind his back before he stepped away. “Get up on your knees.”
Fenix did as he was told.
“You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?” Darkside wrapped a hand in his hair and forced Bruce to look up at him.
Fenix stared at his face. “What?” He hated himself at that moment.
“This. Me. Being helpless on your knees in front of me. The pain. It arouses you.”
“Not usually.” He felt his face flush hot when Darkside’s eyes traveled down to the unmistakable bulge in his pants.
“Well, then apparently tonight is my lucky night. How long have you been fantasizing about me?”
“I…” want to lie to you. Fenix was caught in Darkside’s steely gaze. “I… since I fell through the ice.”
“Good. Stand up.”
Fenix rose smoothly to his feet. Darkside was still looking at him, dangerous and hungry. Fenix tested the strength of the wet cloth trapping his wrists. He couldn’t reach the knots and knew it wouldn’t matter much if he did. Not with Darkside tying them. Few things were stronger than wet silk and he knew that this would have to be cut from him eventually if he was to be free.
“You can stop squirming now, Fenix. You know better than to think you can escape me.”
At these words, Fenix stilled and waited. He didn’t have to wait long. Darkside stepped in front of him, directly in front, and reached out to untie the drawstring of Fenix’s trousers. They fell in a soft puddle around his feet. Darkside pushed his boxers down as well and motioned Fenix to step out of them. Again, Fenix did as Darkside bid him and stood before him, naked and bound. Darkside’s hands roamed down his body, ghosting over his flushed skin, fingers stopping and probing seemingly at random. Every touch was electric, sending wave upon wave of feeling through him, sometimes pleasure, sometimes pain, often both at once, until he was overwhelmed and trembled at the barest touch. He spread his legs wider for balance and looked down at himself, surprised to find no marks, no burning brands seared into his flesh. His cock stood out from his body, flushed and harder than it had ever been, it seemed. He looked up at Darkside and thought he saw, finally, a trace of approval in his stern face.
“Stay still.” Darkside gave the order while sinking to his knees before him. He cupped Fenix’s balls in his hand and guided Fenix’s cock into his mouth. Surprise didn’t even begin to cover Fenix’s reaction. He thought he might explode right there but Darkside’s expert manipulations kept him together, balanced on a razor’s edge. The image of Darkside, fully clothed, doing this for his helpless, naked student burned itself into him, leaving him unable to look away, unable to move, unable to do anything but shiver violently and breathe in ragged almost-moans. Again and again, Darkside forced him to the edge and stopped him with touches and pressure at precise points that Fenix hadn’t understood existed before tonight.
Darkside stopped and pulled his mouth off Fenix, agonizingly slowly. Still on his knees, he reached inside his tunic for something, never taking his eyes from Fenix. Fenix couldn’t see what he was doing but the unmistakable scent of cloves filled the air. Clove oil. Sword oil. Darkside’s slick fingers were back, fondling his balls, teasing at the opening behind them.
“Tell me what you want, Fenix,” he commanded softly, never stopping his fingers from moving.
Fenix knew exactly what he wanted, knew that he shouldn’t say it. “I want to fuck you.”
Darkside smiled at him, made a sound that was almost a laugh. “I see I haven’t beat the arrogance out of you yet, you foolish, brave boy. You don’t get that. Not tonight. Probably not ever.”
With that, Darkside’s fingers, hard, strong and infinitely skilled, invaded him and he broke open with a wail. Darkside remained on his knees, one hand stroking Fenix’s unbearably hard erection and the fingers of the other still inside him, never hesitating in their insistent manipulation of the pressure point inside him. Fennix bit his lip hard enough to draw blood and concentrated on remaining upright through this assault on his senses. His eyes were tightly shut and stars blossomed beneath his closed lids. He felt as though he were falling in all directions at once.
“Open your eyes and look at me, Fenix.” The room seemed to spin about him when he did and the only thing preventing him from flying apart were Darkside’s hands on him. “I will, however, allow you your release tonight. Come for me, Fenix.”
And with a hoarse cry that all the lip biting in the world could not hold back, Fenix did, drowning in the rush of his own essence and sliding slowly down to the floor until he was kneeling with Darkside, leaning on him for support. Darkside brought a hand up to the back of his head, sliding his fingers through Fenix’s sweat-damp hair. He held Fenix there for a moment, increasing the pressure slightly and then suddenly he was on his feet and Fenix was still on his knees, pressing his face into Darkside’s groin, feeling how hard he was through the layers of cloth between Fenix’s cheek and his cock. He rubbed against it and turned his head to mouth it, pressing hard against the rough linen with his tongue.
A sharp tug in his hair took his attention back to Darkside’s face.
“Very nice, Fenix, but I have a different task for your mouth.” Darkside pulled his attention back down and Fenix saw Darkside’s hand, covered in his own come, right in front of him. He could smell the musky scent of himself over the cloves and the sweat of the training hall. He tried to pull back but the grip in his hair was iron hard. “Clean it.”
He shook his head. He couldn’t do this. The humiliation of his position raged through him, burning away the confusion of lust.
“Fenix.” The power and the warning that Darkside poured into the single syllable of his name made him shiver almost as much as the touches to his nerves had earlier. “Do it now.”
And Fenix leaned forward and gave a tentative lick through the bitter essence. He burned with shame. Darkside’s fingers tightened in his hair. He licked again. He pulled Darkside’s fingers into his mouth and suckled them like he had wanted to suck Darkside’s prick. Lust and desire added to his shame. Darkside pulled his clean hand away from Fenix and stepped back. With a quick flick of his knife, he cut the silk binding Fenix’s wrists and left without a word.
Fenix remained where he was, on his knees, unmoving, not even bringing his aching arms forward. What was he becoming? What was Darkside making him into?