Fandom: Queer As Folk US
Pairing: Brian/OMC
Webpage: http://denofsin.slashcity.net
Feedback: nicxf@softhome.net
Spoilers: Up to and including Season 1, Episode 9
Warning: This story is about s&m and fisting - 'nuff said.
Disclaimer: Temple Street Productions, Showtime and some other people own Brian. I'm just playing with him. Believe me honey, he's having a good time. He'll be back at Babylon soon. Sir is mine.
Comments: Beta by Amy B, who is such a pleasure to have as a friend. And Aries, who demanded this story at 8:04 am on a Tuesday - she's very focused. Also Jennifer who loves a man in leather. Thank you to the Frugal Domme's site for reference. In case you're not familiar with it, the double slashes // means thought.

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"Hollow"
by Nicole S. (04/01)
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maybe I'm phoney, baby just like you
maybe I'm lonely and you're something to do
something to do
maybe I'm broken and I can't be fixed
misunderstood, misguided, misfit
I'm it

-- Hollowman - Econoline Crush
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Sir's cock brushed against Brian's lips and he kissed it, the ring that pierced the head hard against his lips. Then it was gone.

Brian's heart pounded, and he fought hard not to lunge forward after it, wanting, craving that cock in his mouth. He could almost taste it, could nearly feel the ring tickle the back of his throat as he sucked before pulling back, bringing the ring to clink the back of his teeth.

"Relax. If you're good, you'll get it later."

"Yes, Sir," he whispered, his voice trembling.

He was naked and on his knees, his arms bound behind his back by a uniglove, a heavy leather sheath that bound both arms which zipped up the back and shoulder straps to keep it from slipping. His legs were held apart by a leg spreader bar attached to leather straps at his ankles. A blindfold covered his eyes and a leather collar was around his neck.

Brian had been waiting in this position for a while. He wasn't sure what was in store for him this time; Sir liked to mix it up, liked to keep it fresh. But whatever Sir doled out, Brian would certainly deserve it.

Familiar with being on his knees when he was here, he got comfortable. Sir knew he was wired and needed time to calm down. He breathed through his nose, smelling disinfectant, rubber and leather so strong it nearly made him dizzy. If he strained his ears, he was sure he could hear the cries of the men who'd been here before him. How many men had knelt here on this very spot waiting for punishment and attention? How many had shaken from anticipation as he did now, mouth dry, cock twitching, receptive to every sound Sir made as he prepared their fate.

He licked his lips, tasting the barest hint of Sir's cock. This wasn't like him to want to suck cock so bad. Usually he was the one standing while someone was on his knees before him. What the hell was Brian Kinney, one of the most desirable tops on Liberty Avenue doing here, bound and ready to serve?

He'd woken up this morning hung over, Michael's warm embrace around him, morning wood pressed against his ass. He snuggled back against Michael and tried to go back to sleep, but images of what had happened the night before started filtering through his mind. How his Dad had never wanted him because Brian had been a 'mistake'. An 'oops'. The fact his Dad only called him when he wanted money, like he was paying for making him become a father all those years ago. He tried to will them away, but they wouldn't go, so he got up and left Michael sleeping. He wanted to be by himself and brood for awhile, but when he got home, Justin was there sprawled out on his bed. As soon as Justin heard Brian in the kitchen, he immediately got up and started being his most annoying, cheerful, teenage self. Then the day progressively got worse from there, culminating with Lindsay tight lipped with a hurt look on her face and Melanie screaming and crying at him, making him feeling like shit.

He hated feeling like shit, like everything in the entire world was his fault. He felt this way more often than anyone knew. Contrary to what he let on, Brian did have feelings like everyone else. But no one knew, because he didn't show them. That would admit failure. His Dad always told him that emotions were for women, if a man showed his feelings that made him weak. And even though Brian was a fag, he wasn't a sissy.

After he'd left Lindsay and Melanie's, he had that itchy feeling he got more than a few times a year. There was only one thing that would scratch it, only one thing no one else could give him. A phone call and a couple of hours later he was kneeling on a cold concrete floor with leather straps around his cock and balls.

No one knew about this secret except him and Sir. No one would understand. Not even Michael.

Sometimes he just needed to feel special. He needed to be taken care of and loved. Even for a little while.

His mind wandered and thoughts of last night began to fill his consciousness. So he dug them out of there and put them somewhere else, leaving it hollow, just the way he liked it. But after a few minutes, they came back, niggling at him, making him think of things he clearly did not want to deal with right now.

Suddenly pain radiated through his chest as clothespins were attached to his nipples.

"I think you need a little distraction."

"Thank you, Sir," Brian gasped. Pain spread through his body, hairs standing on end, sweat pricking up all over his body. He breathed through his mouth as his tits went numb and his cock hardened.

Sir always knew what Brian needed. He needed *this* kind of attention, the kind that made him forget his thoughts and not manifest them into something larger that left a hard knot in the middle of his gut.

// So shut up already.//

Brian remained in his position, concentrating on the numbness in his tits and the hardness of his cock. Aroused beyond comparison, if his cock wasn't bound tightly at the base, he would have surely orgasmed spontaneously.

Many minutes later, Sir removed the clothespins. Brian gasped loudly as the blood rushed back to his numb tits. Then he was brought to his feet; Sir balancing him, slowly leading him over to the rack Brian knew was just a few feet away. The uniglove binding his arms was then unzipped and Brian's arms were freed. Sir massaged them slightly before Brian raised them over his head so his wrists could be fastened. The leg spreader was then fixed to the rack.

"Comfortable?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I've got something that we've never used before. It's called a clapper paddle. It's a leather covered reinforced steel plate with another bit of leather that makes a great noise when it hits its target. Some say it sounds worse than it feels." Sir caressed Brian's ass with the hard leather paddle as he spoke. "But I'm more inclined to believe it hurts worse than it sounds." Sir moved in closer to Brian's ear. "But that's why you're here, right?"

Brian choked back a moan. "Yes, Sir."

"Let's get you ready."

Brian heard Sir put the paddle down then pick up a few things from the metal table nearby. Hard bristles of a scrub brush started stroking his ass, circling over each cheek. They were soft at first, almost ticklish, then grew stronger and stronger. Sir started flicking the bristles across his ass, digging in harder. Brian moaned in pleasure and pain, then gasped loudly as soft fur caressed the sensitized skin. Tingles ran up and down his spine, it was too soft, too good.

The sensations were overwhelming; the hard bristles making his skin pink and receptive, the soft fur a harsh contrast. Soon, Brian was quivering and nearly gyrating to rub his cock against something, anything. He didn't know which feeling he liked more, yet they went together just the same.

Then it was all gone and Brian was left with nothing touching him, which nearly made him whimper. He was left for long minutes, knowing Sir was still in the room and was sizing him up for what was to be doled out next. The scrub brush and fur mitt were just a preamble to a long evening.

Brian jumped as the cool leather paddle nuzzled his ass. Sir left it there for a few moments, circling around, adding another sensation to the mix.

"Okay," was all Sir needed to say and Brian knew what came next.

The first blow came harder than expected, sending Brian into sensory overload. The leather paddle made a loud cracking sound as it smacked against his tender flesh, leaving nothing but pain. This is what bound him and Sir together. Nothing distracted them, no music played, no one else was here. The only thing that remained was Sir's paddle and Brian's throbbing ass.

Blow after blow struck, sending delicious bolts of fire down to Brian's cock. His balls felt heavy as he jerked forward from the strikes. He gritted his teeth; if his cock could only gain release, he'd shoot his load in a second. Then Sir stopped and Brian was left to catch his breath for a moment, skin tingling all over from the paddle and excitement before the strikes came again.

Brian took the pain into himself and let it sit there, driving all the shit that had happened in the past few days out of him, keeping it as if he was saving it for something. He was grateful for this, grateful for Sir and his paddle. Without this, he couldn't deal with real life.

Slap after hard slap made Brian one raw nerve. He was one with his bonds, the heavy leather straps creaking as he lurched forward when the paddle connected with his skin. The metal of the leg spreader clinked against the D-rings set into the wooden rack. He could smell the leather mingled with Sir's scent, which would forever remind him of the pain.

"You're resisting."

Brian grimaced against the hard blow that came with Sir's command. He couldn't help it. He had to fight this, the way he fought everything else in life. If you gave in, you were weak; you were a pussy.

"Let it out."

// No.//

He knew Sir didn't want him to resist, he liked to hear him moan. And the more Brian fought, the harder he got hit. But he had to be strong.

His hands gripped the leather straps that bound him to the rack; resisting and fighting till the end. His face was a grimace of concentration, red with effort. If he could just hold on a little longer, he would prove he wasn't weak.

The paddle cracked his ass particularly hard and Brian couldn't do it any longer. A loud cry tore from his mouth and echoed off the walls. He heard Sir give a triumphant snort of breath behind him.

Sweat dripped down to soak the blindfold, and ran down his body, tickling the back of his knees to drip on the floor. He tilted his face up and let out more cries as he was hit again and again. His chest heaved with exertion, adrenaline shot through his veins, and he thought he might pass out from pleasure.

Then it was over. He breathed heavily and moaned with a touch of remorse. He wanted more. But Sir knew Brian consumed pain as he did drugs, alcohol and men and if Sir let him, Brian wouldn't stop.

He kept his head high, proud slave for a day that he was. Sir may have gotten those few cries out of him, but he had more inside that couldn't be touched. Brian knew he gave up a little more each time he came here. And Sir would like nothing more for Brian to give him his all each time he came here. But he couldn't do that. Not for any man.

Brian was left to catch his breath then he was released from the rack to kneel on the floor again with the leg spreader and blindfold still in place. His hands were left unbound, but he knew to keep them behind his back. He was left there a long time to concentrate on the feeling of his ass, all fire and probably bright pink. Compared to last time, Sir had gone easy on him. The last time Brian had been here, his back had bled for days from the whip, but he didn't complain, in fact, he'd begged for more. And even though he had to even refrain from tricking for a week and settle for blowjobs in the back room of Babylon, it was a small price to pay for the stress it relieved.

This time, he knew Sir had other plans. And that excited Brian beyond belief.

Sir touched the Brian's ass, causing a shiver of pain to run through him. Even though Brian hadn't been wounded anywhere else, Sir's fingers felt like fire on his back and shoulder as he moved toward his front.

"Kiss it."

Brian moved his head forward slightly, expecting Sir's cock to greet his lips. Instead, he found a fist. He fought hard not to cry out in excitement. His excruciatingly hard cock twitched. Brian had never done this before, and he didn't know if he could handle it.

"Do you trust me?"

He knew Sir would sense his uncertainty. But he wouldn't back down. "Yes, Sir." He licked his lips. "Completely."

The leg spreader was removed, but the blindfold and collar remained. He was led across the room, where he was gently placed into a sling. When he was situated comfortably, his hands and ankles were bound in position and he was winched into the air.

"Relax."

Brian took a deep breath and settled back in the sling, concentrating on the leather straps sweetly caressing his wounded ass. His legs were held high and spread wide, giving Sir all the access he needed to Brian's hole. He could feel his fully erect cock rest against his belly, smearing precome onto his skin. He heard the snap of latex, then fingers thickly covered in something soft and slick pressed against his ass. Two fingers probed forward and gently started opening him up.

Brian never bottomed. He *wasn't* a bottom. The few times he had been fucked in the past decade were one time things, times that were special with special people. Or Sir. But he didn't get fucked every time he came here, either. So the fingers in his ass moving around and digging deep weren't exactly a surprise, just different.

Another finger entered and pushed more thick slick inside. He closed his eyes against the blindfold and felt the grease being rubbed all around. He could feel the care Sir was taking, ensuring to stretch him gently. Another finger entered and more grease was applied, then another finger. Brian felt himself widen further and further. Sir rubbed Brian's chest as he pushed forward, his thumb now joining the fingers. Brian slowly felt himself open up even wider; it was the most unusual, yet relaxing feeling.

Then all of the sudden, Sir's hand was inside him up to the wrist, his fingers curled inward. He could feel this man's entire hand inside his body. It wasn't uncomfortable. It was just there. Then it slid out a little then back in. Brian felt like he was floating as Sir kept making the same movements over and over, back and forth and twisting his wrist around. It was if he'd left his body, like he wasn't there at all.

Liquid started seeping out from the edges of the blindfold and down his face. Brian didn't know what it was till he realized he was crying. He seemed to feel every emotion he had inside him at once.

// No!//

He couldn't let them come, he had to keep them at bay, they were safer in the back of his mind with all those other things he didn't want to deal with. But like a river overflowing its banks, all those feelings flowed into his consciousness to fill the empty space he'd created.

His Dad. His Dad was the worst. He was just spunk to him, just a blunder that couldn't be taken care of twenty-nine years ago. Then again, Brian always somehow always knew that fact in the back of his mind. The way his Dad used to look at him, like he was an unwelcome guest. It all fit now.

Then there was Lindsay, Melanie, and Gus. What the fuck was he thinking? Justin was wrong; Gus would probably be better off without him. What could he offer a kid? How to score three tricks a night at Babylon or Woody's? How the hell was he going to be a good father when his own was a total fuckup? He couldn't even come out to his Dad. How was he going to be strong for Gus if he couldn't do that one thing?

Could he give that much love and devotion to someone other than himself? No one had gotten that from him, not even Mikey. Justin pushed to get some sort of emotion or commitment out of him, but Brian pushed back just as hard. Brian Kinney didn't do love.

How many men had there been? How many people had he rejected just because he feared of being rejected first? How long could he play the game? Would he be at Babylon at age fifty with the other pathetic old lonely losers who only picked up boys that were looking for sugar daddies?

His life was definitely screwed up.

// Fuck!//

He couldn't believe he just gave in to the things in his mind. He had fought hard to keep them under control, but ended up sobbing, shaking the sling with his heaving breaths, the support chains rattling. After a few moments he realized he wasn't embarrassed or ashamed that he was in a dungeon in downtown Pittsburgh bawling his eyes out with someone's fist up into his guts. He didn't feel like a loser, or a wimp. This actually felt okay. Like he'd been redeemed or something.

Sir continued to rub his chest and move his fist as Brian cried, waiting patiently until he calmed down, his hand still moving in and out. Then he started to slowly pull out, starting with the heel of his hand; his thumb folded under, then the fingers. Suddenly, Brian didn't feel him in there anymore.

Brian kept his eyes closed behind the wet blindfold. He felt drained and sleepy and somehow spent, although he couldn't tell if he'd come or not. He knew he wasn't hard anymore.

Brian felt Sir clean him up and unbind him. His limbs felt heavy and he didn't want to move. Then he was winched down from his position and helped out of the sling. Sir's arms came around him and he was led to the small bed in the corner of the room.

Sir kissed Brian, "You did real good. You can stay here for a little while if you like."

"Thank you, Sir." He felt as if he was one big hole

Brian's blindfold and collar were removed, but he kept his eyes closed and eventually drifted off. He was awoken some time later by Sir's slave boy and helped into his clothes. After he was dressed, he got out his wallet. He counted out a few hundred-dollar bills and left them on the small table beside the sling. He looked at the money for a moment before adding another hundred to the pile. The expense never bothered him; it cost just as much as a good shrink but didn't take as long.

He shrugged on his leather jacket and went out to the hallway and out the front door. He stood there for a second on Sir's front porch, feeling cleansed and renewed. None of that shit mattered anymore. Then he lit a cigarette and walked toward his jeep.

The end.

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