Placing Out by P. J. Brown

sensation of his fingers delicately tugging me, slipping one finger up into my ass. I sighed when he pulled out. Opening my eyes, I found him watching me. His face was flushed. My heart galloped. Both of us eager for the night to come, but refusing to rush.
    He liked to watch me masturbate. Under his watchful eyes, I scooped up a few drops of pre-cum and massaged my nipples, feeling them tighten and swell under my touch. It was easy to let my mind wander down paths of pure pleasure, knowing he watched and grew more aroused. But as much as I wanted to shut my eyes and let go, I kept them open. George insisted. He wanted us both to see.
    I slid both hands down my rib cage, over my flat stomach, my muscles bunching and trembling in anticipation. My dick was so hard it almost touched my belly. I avoided it as I moved past to my upper thighs. With one hand, I cupped my own balls, tugging them roughly.
    George reached over and attached the thin metal chain to the cock ring. The chain split into a Y and I released my balls and attached the clamps to my nipples. Pain pierced me like a shot of electricity straight down to my prick. The pain quickly became pleasure and I bit back a groan. Another rule. I had to keep silent. At least until he let me know otherwise.
    Lastly, he wrapped my wrists in silk ties and I climbed onto the bed he had just vacated. I lay on my back, staring at the sculptured ceiling while he secured me to the headboard. Now I was spread-eagle, legs bent and open. George slid between them. His dick probed my asshole and I arched my hips for him. He rose above me, watching my face as he worked his thick prick inside me.
    Only when he was tight inside me did he start moving. I humped my hips up, urging him on, my breath coming in short gasps each time he rocked into me. His movements grew more frantic.
    I was losing control, but I wasn't allowed to just yet. Biting my lip hard enough to draw blood, I concentrated on staring into his eyes. Only when he closed his, battering me and moaning did I let go. I thrust up to get him in deeper and, with a final moan, he buried himself into my gut. I howled and climaxed all over my belly.
    He collapsed on top of me, almost immediately rolling off. He untied me and removed the cock ring from my flaccid dick. Finally, he pulled my damp body against his. I stroked his back.
    "Go clean up," he said. "I'll get us a bottle. Mumm's?"
    "Perfect." I took my time sauntering toward the luxurious bathroom, where I showered again and put on yet another robe. This one leopard patterned. He donned a matching robe and we moved to the living area of the suite at the same time as the bellhop delivered our champagne in a bucket of ice. We already had the champagne glasses.
    He filled two and we sat together on the gold trimmed settee, my legs curled up while I lay against him. We drank and laughed about the latest Hollywood gossip and the mess going on in Washington. I didn't think about the fact that this was only for a few short days.
    I took brief refuge in imagining, for a little while, that we were a forever couple. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the dream as the hours slipped away.

    * * * *
    Los Angeles, March 1, 1933
     
    There were no union heads to bust. Roach, knowing the boys were getting restless in their inactivity, scheduled another pansy club raid. This time it would be the Black Kat. Roach laid it out an hour before entry.
    "Get as many of them as you can. We got two wagons coming to pick them up, plus a couple of photographers and reporters from the Times gonna tag along. So look pretty, boys, we're gonna be famous."
    Six of them stormed the guarded entrance. Roach took down the doorman, unlike Peaches, a bruiser in a short sleeve shirt showing off mounds of muscles. They didn't do him any good against Roach's nightstick and sap. Head bloody, puking blood, he went down under the surreal flashing lights of two cameras and a half-dozen men swarming inside the club like an attack of