When Bruce stood up, his erection was painfully obvious.
"This excite you, boy?" Gustavus snarled.
"Answer me, boy," Gustavus demanded. "Say it."
Gustavus took a step toward him. "What's got you so turned on, boy? This situation, right now, or the memory of those other men who came before?"
Bruce glanced at a spot just past his new Master's head and spoke softly. "Both."
"LOOK AT ME, BOY," the other man yelled.
Bruce's cock twitched beneath the sweatpants. Wayne stared straight into the other man's eyes and thought he would melt from the intensity he found there.
"All right, Wayne," his mentor said, softening his voice but maintaining its commanding tone. "Since you're so goddam hot right now, let's see you do something about it. Pull down those pants... That's it. Drop them to your ankles... Attaboy. Now. Take your dick in your hand--that's it--and start stroking it. NOW, boy. Let me see you get into it."
Bruce Wayne now found himself jerking off in front of a man he barely knew: a handsome man, one about whom he'd already fantasized many times. He was doing it willingly. This man wasn't a criminal, he was--beneath all the trappings of aggression and hostility--on the same side, and this entire scenario was unfolding at Wayne's request. On his dime, even.
The lengthy consent forms Gustavus had made Wayne sign during their preliminary meetings contained detailed sections on sexual activity. It was impossible, Bruce knew, to do the work he wanted--needed--to do without some sort of physical interaction between the two men. After much consideration, he'd checked off the boxes permitting touch, oral and anal stimulation, ejaculation, everything. I must be open to every possibility, he'd told himself.
Now that it was here, now that it was beginning, he hesitated for a moment, seized by doubt and self-awareness. Where is this going to take me? he asked himself. What will I find when I get there?
He remembered everything that had brought him to this place: the murder of his parents, the years he'd spent attempting with little success to avenge that crime, the tortures he'd suffered at the hands of maniacs, the damage he'd done to Dick Grayson by bringing him into the game... all of it.
As he did, he felt the warmth of his hand pumping his shaft, back and forth, back and forth, while Gustavus watched. It felt good. It felt great. Back and forth. Back and...