Vignette: Paisley.

Hypnosis & Mindfuck | Chastity | Formal Fuck | Bukkake

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An older, cocky “alpha” menswear influencer plows a mysterious younger dandy in his hotel room. But little does our “alpha” male know that this peacock has a talent for using paisley-patterned clothing in unusual ways. This story takes place during an event called Pitti Uomo, an elite menswear trade show in Florence—a show whose images of well-heeled gents have been practically porn for suit and tie fetishists for years.

Content warning: To some folks, hypnosis can come across as dubious consent. As the folks at the Kinky Boys Podcast have noted, real life hypnosis is self-hypnosis. It’s part of a power dynamic that consenting adults enter into consensually, with extensive conversations about limits and safety. This story, on the other hand, is more in the realm of hypnosis as fantasy: a cruel trick of power exchange and comeuppance. Read at your own risk.

“Paisley.” Louis wrapped his fingers around it. “Such an old-fashioned pattern. But in your case I’ll make an exception.”

“Thank you, sir.” Frank let his gloved fingers rest right against Louis’ knees. A titillation. “You’re the only one at this convention who can’t seem to leave his tie alone. When I saw you tie shopping earlier today, and you were practically wanking off the silk.”

Wanking off the silk. Fuck. Louis’ cock leapt in his trousers. This guy knew his stuff. Most guys wouldn’t get it, the subtle not-so-subtlety of stroking a tie in public like this.

“I had a feeling you and I shared common extracurricular interests.” Frank smirked. He seemed to notice Louis’ reaction, so he pressed his advantage: “You can’t keep your hand off it, can you? That fine tie of yours? Or mine? I bet you’ve been hard to stroke off every handsome guy at this convention. Just waiting for someone to pick up on the signal you’ve been sending out.”

“It is a habit,” replied Louis, pinching his tie knot. And a signal, he thought to himself. Yes, a signal. And finally—finally—someone gets it. Someone gets it. “I enjoy the feel of the silk.”

“I can tell. You seem to enjoy taking control of another guy.”

“Oh yes. I love a good tumble in the sheets with a well-suited gent.” Perhaps buzzed, perhaps inflamed with lust—oh god would this Frank fellow just let Louis wrench down his trousers and fucking wreck his hole already—Louis let his shoe touch Frank’s. He nodded down to Frank’s crotch. “You have quite a beautiful tie, the brown and purple paisley. I cannot take my eyes off it.”

“Thank you,” replied Frank, resting his gloved hand on his knee, and letting his knuckles rest against Louis’ thigh. Almost stroking the fine fabric of Louis’ suit, just that bare minimum of physical contact. Once more spreading his thighs, Frank let his cock protrude from its suited confines, twitching and ready, tensing the fabric of his suit in an indecent display of horniness. “But I have a feeling you have your eyes on something else.”

“Indeed.” Drawing a deep breath, and letting his tie arch erect from his collar, Louis rested a hand on his lap, thumbing his own crotch in response. “Like I said, I cannot take my eyes off it.”

“Is that so?” Frank winked, coy as ever, moving his hand up to his thigh, where his gloved fingers curled inches away from that throbbing bulge in his tan suit trousers. “I can give you a closer look, if you like. I’d love to see you lose control of that well-collected exterior of yours.”

Louis rose in his seat, squaring his shoulders in an imposing figure. “I will not be the one losing control, young man.”

“Of course. Silly me.” Tapping his gloved finger on his glass, Frank downed his drink. “Why don’t we take our little exchange upstairs?”

*

During the ride on the art deco elevator, Frank stroked his tie the entire time. Oh yes. Tonight, he’d fuck Frank. And tomorrow, Claudia. Raging with lust, Louis plucked his tie to an even more erect arch of silk, spreading open his jacket to advertise his bulge. Frank winked again, eyes still masked by his sunglasses.

The gleaming doors opened. Frank led Louis down the hall. With fewer people here, Frank could be bolder, passing his hand down to his suited crotch, where the folds of his fine tan wool trousers rode over his cockline, shadows tracing every contour of his head.

Louis licked his lips. Hungry, like a predator. Oh yes, Louis was going to enjoy this. He stood inches behind Frank, and, while Frank opened the door to his room, Louis knew that in a moment he’d have his hands resting on this man’s ass.

The door clicked. Frank opened it, stepped aside, admitted Louis, and then—

—YES. Ravenous. Let loose the beast.

Louis threw himself at Frank. Pinning Frank’s wrists against the wall, he locked his bearded lips with Frank’s smooth-shaven. First, just the lips. Then the tongue, thrusting, growing wetter each time. Grunting into Frank’s mouth. When Louis peeked his eyes open, he noticed that he had upset Frank’s sunglasses on his nose. Releasing one of Frank’s wrists, Louis snatched the tinted lenses away, tossing them onto a table nearby before continuing his tongue-fucking.

Arching his hips forward, Frank ground his crotch into Louis. Louis could feel Frank’s hard-on. Breaking off the kiss, Louis whispered, “I want to rip those trousers right off you, boy.”

“Yes Sir,” groaned Frank. “Anything you want, Sir.”

Louis lavished more kisses down the side of Frank’s neck, his well-coiffed whiskers bristling against Frank’s collar. “Beg for it.”

“Oh fuck, Sir. Please. Please fuck me.” Frank tossed his head in ecstasy, his high-arched tie wobbling against Louis’ curving silk. “I need it. I need to feel you inside of me.”

“You want it? You want this grade-a alpha meat inside you, boy?” Grabbing Frank’s tie like a leash—yes, fucking spoil that too-perfect outfit—too perfect for a sub—needs to know his place—Louis dragged Frank across the hotel suite, wrenching the perfect tie knot askew from the crisp confines of Frank’s collar. Ensconcing himself in a chair, Louis laid one beautifully-shod foot on the coffee table. Tossing Frank’s tie blade aside—the silk adornment now screwed at a disgraceful angle—Louis pointed down to his shoe. “Polish it, boy.”

Frank got to work, laving every curve of Louis’ custom shoe—the soles, too. Impressive, thought Louis. This boy knows what he’s doing. And this boy’s getting turned on, too. Louis noticed Frank wrestling with his crotch, the wet spot leaking through the tan wool where his cock head drooled, begging for release as Frank worshipped Louis’ shoes.

Plucking his tie further out of his waistcoat, Louis crossed his ankles on the table, letting Frank partake of his other shoe. Plying the zipper of his trousers, he pulled down his underwear, letting his kingly cock spring forth with a groan of relief. “Fuck. Been waiting to let him out all fucking evening.”

Grey eyes seizing greedily on Louis’ unsheathed cock, Frank lunged for it.

But Louis shoved his well-shod foot on Frank’s chest, holding him back. “No, boy. You’re not done with my shoes yet. Get to work.”

It went on like that for a few minutes, Frank on his knees, pulling out his own meat and stroking, polishing Louis’ shoes over and over again. And Louis, stroking in kind, watched his suited fuckboy lick his soles clean.

Mmmm, yes, thought Louis. This is going to be a long, enjoyable night indeed.

*

Frank’s trousers. Louis hurled them across the room. That was the only article of clothing Louis permitted to be removed from Frank’s firm, hairy body. Otherwise, Louis plowed his fuckboy fully suited. His fuckboy would get the second half of his suit back after he’d proven himself.

Yes, thought Louis, grunting as his hips zigzagged back and forth. Fuck yeah. He had to contain his own grunts of exertion as he rammed himself between Frank’s cheeks. The bedframe rattled. Sweat welled up in Louis’ pits, but still he kept his tie snug, proudly arched, every stitch of his tailored finery in place. Only his cock and balls were bare, capped with a condom and unctuously lubed to serve its virile role. That was all he would let Frank see.

Locking eyes with Louis above him, Frank tossed his head in ecstasy as he lay on the bed, his once-well-combed hair falling out of its part. Louis occasionally indulged Frank with a nice, long lick of Frank’s sheer socked calves—meaty, hairy calves stretching that fine hosiery to translucency—Frank’s fine shoes tossing in the air above Louis’ shoulders—Louis continuing to plow, and thrust, rock-hard meat sliding back and forth—one of Frank’s loafers dangling halfway down his sheer socked foot, hanging on for dear life—Louis’ silver coiffure falling discomposed from the perspiration and exertion—Louis sweated and grunted, cock slick as his balls jiggled against—while Louis arched his hips, stroking, moaning—

“Sir—sir,” pleaded Frank beneath Louis’ rocking body, “I can’t hold on—”

“I CUM FIRST, BOY,” roared Louis above him. But Louis could feel it already, the pangs of orgasm as his cock bubbled its precum in its lubed rubber, stimulated by the snug interior of Frank’s eager hole. “You—won’t—cum—until I tell you—”

Louis’ bearded jaw dropped as he emitted a moan. His thrusts slowed in tempo, but gained in intensity—fuck yeah, Louis could feel it now—the white-hot seed spewing out of him—filling that lubed rubber to the brim—each shove, each heave like a jackhammer—pounding, toppling the lamp on the bedside table—letting one of Frank’s fine loafers tumble right off his sheer-socked foot, clattering to the floor—

Inhaling an ecstatic breath, Frank’s chest swelled in his fine shirt, tie arching high and proud as he pulsed his hips in excitement, white-hot seed leaking out moments after Frank pumped out one jet, then two, each mighty pulse filling his fuckboy’s hole, spilling out of the spent condom—a dribble of Louis’ cum leaking out of Frank’s hole, spattering Louis’ fine pinstripe trousers, as the filthily lubed rubber slinked out, splatting on his shoe.

*

Straightening his attire in the mirror, Louis didn’t bother zipping himself back up. Beneath his once-crisp dress shirt, Louis’ sweat cooled on his frame. His cologne had faded. He smelled like sex. The smell of it pervaded his suit, overwhelming the fine aroma of wool and silk, saturating his tailored attire with rank, masculine musk. Yet he’d have to muster up the energy to go to another negroni social this evening. Somehow, he’d have to act civilized and proper, despite the pale splatter on his shoe.

Frank, meanwhile, had managed to pull his trousers back on. But his shirt and brilliant paisley tie were smeared with cumstains. Sauntering across the room, Frank presented Louis with a glass of amaro.

“You’re very aggressive.” Frank clinked glasses with Louis. “I like that. My ass is going to be hurting for days after a pounding like that.”

“Thanks.” Sipping his digestif, Louis pinched his tie knot, noticing that Frank was also doing the same, the paisley silk marred with a jet of cum. “I normally prefer women, but with men—with men wearing suits and ties—I feel very aggressive and alpha. Like I just want to seize control of the world. Control of another man, dominance.”

“I can see that.” Thumbing the arch of cum-stained silk, Frank let his tie curve out of his lapel, an erect phallus of silk protruding forth. Like Louis, he began straightening up his attire as best he could. But Frank’s studied gaze behind his sunglasses suggested that some new stratagem was hatching in Frank’s head. “I get the sense that you were working off some stress.”

“Stress? Me?” Louis adjusted his pocket square, spreading out the ruffles like the petals of an erect flower. “Not at all. I feel calm, cool, collected.”

“Oh? No worries, then, about your date tomorrow with that lovely lady?”

“None. I know what I’m doing.”

“Huh. Have you considered, perhaps, focusing a bit on your breathing?” Frank tilted his head, inquisitive. “Just humor me for a moment.”

“What, are you some kind of a health guru?”

“Give it a try,” Frank instructed. Why was his voice suddenly so unctuous and deep? Louis quite liked the sound of it, that rich baritone from this elegant younger man. “Here—relax your shoulders a bit. You have such a mighty and commanding posture already, but—just—there you go, let your shoulders settle back just a little bit, just like that.”

“Hm.” Louis shrugged, quite liking the way his fine suit jacket rested on his shoulders. “That doesn’t feel half bad.’

Frank placed a gloved hand on Louis’ chest. “Just . . . draw in a nice deep breath for me, if you would. Enough to push my hand forward. Yes, that’s it.”

Louis felt the oxygen swirl into the back of his throat, sinking down into his lungs. His pulse calmed.

“There you go.” It was a purr now, Frank’s voice, dipping into Louis’ ear drums. “Breathe in, and out. In, and out. Yes, a nice calm rhythm. Like the sea, you see. Nice and even. Why don’t you shift your weight a bit, from the balls of your feet to the heels. Just enough to feel your balance. You are mighty and grounded, like a tree, yes? You are immovable. You will conquer the world, yes?”

“Yes,” repeated Louis. He quite liked the sound of that, conquering the world, as he let his weight shift back and forth in the fine leather of his loafers and sheer socks.

Unprompted, Frank continued his instructions. “Let your eyelids just settle shut. Not actively, no. Just let the weight of gravity do the work, nice and slow. That’s it, yes.” Louis felt Frank clasping his shoulders, giving them a strong squeeze, gathering tension, before a softening release. “Yes, that’s it. That’s it, yes. In and out. Just breathe. Focus on your posture and form, all four corners of your feet settling into the ground. Firm and grounded, yes. Arms relaxing at your sides, nice and heavy. Just let gravity do the work. Shoulders soft, chest open.”

“This is like that one time I took a yoga class,” observed Louis with a self-conscious chuckle.

“Shhh.” Frank placed a gloved finger against Louis’ lips. “No words right now, not yet. Give it ten more breaths. Ten inhales, ten exhales. In and out, out and in.”

A pause. Louis could hear the calm grey noises of the city street outside, the dim bustle of the crowd in the hotel lobby downstairs. The ticking of a clock, mingled with the ticking of his watch, and Frank’s. Each tick slightly off rhythm from the rest, yet somehow all forming a quiet staccato cadence that settled into his eardrums. Settling, settling, calm.

“Open your eyes,” Frank whispered.

And Louis did. “Ahhh.”

“Didn’t that feel nice?”

“I . . . don’t think I ever thought of doing something like that before.” Louis nodded. “Very good.”

“It’s all about breathing, mindfulness. Being aware of the things you are aware of” As Frank adjusted his fine pocket silk, before Frank cleared his throat and plied another question, this one apparently out of the blue: “For instance, have you been aware of how much you have been staring at my tie all evening? I bet, if I were to tell you to take your eyes off my tie, you wouldn’t be able to.”

Louis let an inhale and an exhale exit and release, staring at Frank in the mirror. What was this Frank guy getting at? Didn’t Louis have another social event to attend this evening? Yet somehow these concerns seemed at a distance, dimmed and indistinct, like mirages on the ocean’s horizon. Glaring at Frank’s tie, Louis tried to manufacture a tone of annoyance. “Of course I could take my eyes off your tie. You can’t tell me what to do.”

Frank pinched and nudged his tie knot, the vibrant purple paisley contrasting the rich cocoa backdrop of the silk design. “Then stop looking at my tie.”

With a scoff, Louis looked away, smoothing the lapels of his pinstripe suit. He noticed the closet across from the bed of Frank’s hotel room, where his remaining suits hung in a soldierly array. And he noticed, too, the magnificent ties—foulards, ancient madders, grenadines—all strung on the hangers—paisleys, so many rich paisleys, swimming and swirling—and then his eyes locked back on the cocoa and plum paisley silk, cumstained and arching from Frank’s suit lapels, reflected in the mirror. Fascinating. Inescapable. And immediately his cock twitched, reawakening after its blast in Frank’s ass.

“You’re still looking at my tie.” Frank chuckled, thumbing the silk arch. “All of them, in fact.”

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Hungry for more? Purchase and download the full story here: Vignette: Paisley (suit + tie, chastity, hypnosis and headspaces, humiliation, formalwear bukkake).