Backstage Ass

Alan took the slack of the rope and used it to bind Duncan’s arms to the top of the scaffolding, securing him by the elbows and wrists. Duncan couldn’t believe this was happening to him - he kept his eyes shut tight, feeling exposed, feeling trapped, feeling the rough hands of the men holding him firmly, keeping him still. He could feel Alan’s breath across his chest as his arms were secured, and felt the man’s stubble brush his hip as he dropped to string the rope along to his ankles.

The rigger stopped in the middle of binding Duncan’s ankles to the base of the scaffolding, his face at crotch-height. “Holy shit, check this out.”

“Check what out?” Connor glanced down. “Oh shit, he’s fucking got wood.”

“You like this, don't you, Mr Varsity Jock?” Trey whispered into Duncan’s ear. “You like being all tied up, helpless on display like this?”

“Fuck off!” Duncan struggled in vain against the ropes securing him to the scaffolding, face burning with embarrassment, unable to hide or explain his arousal…