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Archive name: notting.txt (MM, nc, bd)
Authors name: D. Brown (dbrown@ggu.edu)
Story title : Sheriff of Nottingham, The

--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2003.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  All rights reserved. Thank you for your 
consideration.
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The Sheriff of Nottingham (MM, nc, bd)
by D. Brown (dbrown@ggu.edu)

***

The usual caveats apply. If you are underage for reading 
this sort of thing, please don't. If you like male with 
male sex, but don't find rope and gag sex exciting, this 
will likely bore or repel you, so please don't read it. 
If you do like either to be bound and gagged for 
lovemaking, or to bind and gag your partner, you may 
enjoy this.

When he showed up in the movies and on TV, we weren't 
supposed to like the Sheriff of Nottingham--he was the 
villain--but he was rather sexy as an authority figure. 
A friend and I got to talking about that one day, and 
... well, if you read this, you'll see.

***

"Leave us," the Sheriff of Nottingham said abruptly to 
his men.

With an exchange of glances, the two men at arms 
hesitated. The Sheriff looked at them in annoyance.

"I said..." he began ominously.

Hastily, his sergeant at arms spoke. "Yes, sir. I know, 
sir, and we will obey, but your safety is my concern, 
sir, and you have made me responsible for it." He looked 
his lord straight in the eye, his own blue eyes showing 
a mixture of emotions. 

The Sheriff stared back at him a moment, considering. He 
suspected not so much defiance as a jealousy he found 
both flattering and annoying. He decided to ignore the 
question this raised for the time being. He turned from 
his sergeant to their prisoner.

"Do you think I am in any danger from this man?" he 
asked, and the tone of his voice indicated not sarcasm 
or offense to his own manhood at the implication, merely 
scorn for the man he referred to. The two men at arms 
and the Sheriff all looked at the prisoner.

Robin Hood knelt in front of the Sheriff, his head 
thrown back, his gray eyes staring hard at the other 
man. Stare at the man was all that he could do. His 
wrists were tightly bound behind him with strips of 
leather, and more strips bound his arms closely to his 
sides. 

A great wad of cloth was stuffed into his mouth as a 
gag, and a heavy scarf of black silk was folded into a 
wide bandage and tightly bound through his jaws and 
around his head to hold the gag in place. He was a 
strong-looking fellow, a little over medium height and 
well conditioned by his life as an outlaw, but he 
looked, in his present state, quite helpless.

The Sheriff smiled at his prisoner. It was not a smile 
the prisoner found pleasant, although the Sheriff's 
teeth were even and white, and he was a handsome man. 
Those who had heard of his reputation before they met 
the man himself were always surprised to find him so, 
and then surprised at their surprise. 

Good looks and ruthlessness in rule are not, as they 
well knew, irreconcilable human characteristics. The 
Sheriff was known for being ruthless, if not evil. 
Whether other men judged him as evil or not seemed to 
depend less on his actual deeds than on whose side the 
man who judged pledged his own loyalties. 

If he was King John's man, the Sheriff seemed to be a 
man who carried out his duties with a rigid adherence to 
what he saw as the letter of the law. If he was for Kind 
Richard, he saw things in a less tolerant light. But the 
good looks of the man, by those who had met him, were 
not easily denied. 

He was in his late thirties, taller than the average and 
built well and big, with wide shoulders, a deep chest, 
and well-muscled arms and legs. He had dark hair that he 
wore long and clubbed behind his tall, well-sculpted 
head, and he wore his beard carefully trimmed and shaped 
into a narrow dark line along his strong jaw and ending 
in a crisp point. His mustaches were luxuriant and 
carefully combed into thick curves. 

His features were strongly and cleanly cut. Beneath 
heavy, well-defined eyebrows, his dark eyes were bright 
and intelligent, with a steady look that some read as 
scorn, for themselves and everything else, and that 
others guessed to be the expression of an intense desire 
to know the why and wherefore of everything their owner 
saw.

The Sheriff turned to his sergeant.

"Robin Hood kneels before me. His hands and arms are 
tightly bound, are they not?"

The sergeant nodded. "They are, sir, for I bound them 
myself."

"And his lying, disloyal mouth is securely gagged, is it 
not?"

Again the sergeant nodded. He had taken not a little 
pleasure in stuffing in that cruel gag and tying up the 
other man's mouth, cutting off the other man's angry 
curses. "Yes, sir, and I gagged him myself also."

The Sheriff had a look to give the man when he said 
that. "And enjoyed doing so, I am sure, Geoffrey." He 
smiled at the sergeant, who blushed, perhaps at this use 
of his name rather than his title, and looked away. 
There was a pause as the Sheriff watched his sergeant, 
the smile still curving his mouth.

"Yes," he continued after a moment, "bound and gagged as 
he is, I do not think he poses any danger to me for now, 
Sergeant. I relieve you--for this time--of your 
responsibility for my safety." He smiled at the man once 
more, and those who thought the Sheriff of Nottingham 
evil might have felt some doubts, seeing that smile. The 
Sheriff could be persuasively charming when he chose. 
"With my thanks for your concern," he added. The smile 
went and he looked suddenly stern. "Now, leave us."

This time, without any hesitation, rather, with some 
haste, the two men at arms bowed and withdrew, shutting 
the heavy door to the Sheriff's private chamber behind 
them The Sheriff turned to gaze down at Robin Hood where 
he knelt. All this while, the captive man had watched 
the interchange between the lord and his men, his gray 
eyes intense above the heavy swath of his tight gag. He 
had seen the look the two exchanged when the Sheriff had 
teased his sergeant for the pleasure he had taken in 
rendering Robin Hood the helpless prisoner he was. 

Now he gazed back at the man who had him at his mercy. 
He shifted in the bonds that held him. The leather 
strips that secured his hands were wrapped tightly, 
forming snug cuffs that encircled and held his wrists 
inescapably. The leather bands that lashed his arms to 
his sides were equally tight and equally firm. The huge 
soft wad of the gag filled his mouth from his throat to 
his lips, and the scarf that held the gag in place was 
tied with ruthless severity around his head. 

After a moment of looking down at his prisoner, the 
Sheriff crossed to the heavy oak table that stood beside 
the one window of the small, wooden-floored room, and 
sat down in the chair drawn up beside it.

"Well, Robin," he said in a pleasant tone. "So we meet 
once again, and in rather similar fashion, wouldn't you 
say?" He smiled. "Of course, the circumstances are a 
little changed from what they were the last time we met. 
That last time, I stunned you with the flat of my sword, 
do you remember? And tied you up, and gagged you, 
myself. This time, my loyal Geoffrey has done that 
service for me." His smile widened. "Do you know, Robin, 
I think the poor fellow enjoyed his task, but he has 
begun to regret it now? What do you think?"

Robin Hood looked across the room at him. He lifted his 
chin up a trifle in a gesture of defiance, but within he 
was remembering his first face-to-face meeting with the 
man opposite. The memory troubled him, since it was 
accompanied by a mixture of feelings he did not like to 
let himself think about. The Sheriff stood up and 
crossed to where his captive knelt. 

He reached out one long-fingered hand and grasped the 
brown-blond goatee his prisoner wore. Suddenly, he bent 
forward swiftly at the waist to bring his face inches 
from Robin Hood's face. The other man flinched 
involuntarily, but the Sheriff jerked at his beard and 
forced him to face him still.

"You do remember that episode, don't you, Robin? It has 
only been, what, two years since then?"

The Sheriff stared into his prisoner's eyes, a smile 
still curving his lips, but his own eyes had a fierce 
expression under their dark brows.

Robin Hood did remember, all too well. Being reminded 
angered him. He had tried to forget it, distressed at 
what it had revealed to him about himself, anxious not 
to know what that night had made him know. He had been 
taking a risk on that adventure, going alone to rob a 
venial merchant. He had not known the Sheriff was even 
in the area, for the man was said to be visiting 
relatives many miles off. 

When the tall man in black leather armor had appeared in 
the road with his little troupe of men at arms, Robin 
Hood had been taken entirely off guard. At first, when 
the Sheriff and his men followed him into the forest, he 
thought this chase would be like many another before. He 
had easily eluded, he thought, the pursuit, and was 
surprised a second time when the Sheriff, alone now, 
having separated from his men in his search, suddenly 
appeared on his trail once more. 

Robin Hood had fled into the gathering dusk, with the 
Sheriff hot behind him. The two mounted men had galloped 
deep into the forest, and both lost their bearings among 
the darkness and the shadowing trees. The stumbling of 
his horse pitched Robin Hood to the ground, and the 
other man was immediately upon him.

The fight had been evenly matched, both men skilled and 
intent. But again luck deserted Robin Hood. He tripped 
on a half-buried tree root, and a blow from the flat of 
the Sheriff's sword knocked him unconscious. When he 
came to his senses, it was full dark. He was lying in 
the clearing where he and the Sheriff had fought, the 
Sheriff himself sitting on the ground beside him. 

He found he was bound with leather thongs, his hands, 
arms, and legs tightly lashed, the thongs knotted too 
tightly for him to free himself. And he was gagged, a 
big, soft wad of cloth stuffed into his mouth and bound 
in place with a scarf. It was clear that his captor had 
no intention of allowing him to escape or to call for 
help, if his men should be somewhere in the woods. They 
had spent the night together in the forest, the Sheriff 
and he. 

In the morning, the Sheriff's men had found them before 
Robin Hood's men had done so, and they had carried him 
off, still tightly bound and gagged, to the Sheriff's 
castle. He had been rescued some days later, of course, 
as he hoped to be rescued again. But it was the memory 
of the night he and this man had spent in the forest 
together, not his narrow escape from death by hanging 
afterwards that troubled him ever after.

Still holding him by his beard, the Sheriff spoke 
softly. "Geoffrey is a handsome fellow, wouldn't you 
agree, Robin? Not so very tall, but well fashioned, and 
with a very well-favored face." He paused, smiling into 
the other man's eyes. "I've always liked men of his 
sort, that light-eyed, brownish fair type. Your type, 
Robin." He paused, still smiling. "Does he remind you of 
anyone, Robin? Geoffrey, I mean? But then, perhaps you 
don't see your own handsome face so very often, living 
rough in the woods the way you do. You don't really 
resemble each other, he's too much like a boy, and you 
have rather a more rugged look about you, Robin, but you 
two are a bit the same type."

Robin Hood glared back at the other man. His breath was 
loud in his nostrils and he tried to look as defiantly 
at his captor as he could. But he was shaken within 
himself. He strove not to let himself think about it, 
but he found this tall, dark man who seemed to taunt him 
and yet spoke almost affectionately very handsome. 

That he found the man handsome in and of itself did not 
trouble him. He had shared his bed in the forest with 
more than one of his men, and with men he had met on the 
road, and he had done so without shame for all the years 
of his exile. That he loved men did not distress him. 
That the man who now held him captive had raped him that 
night in the woods two years before, and that while he 
had lain bound and gagged and helpless in the other 
man's arms he had been more aroused than he had ever 
been in his life--that disturbed him, it disturbed him 
very much indeed. 

And even more, that this man knew how he had enjoyed 
that night, had raped him and yet had taken the time to 
use his captive's excitement to bring the bound and 
gagged fellow to the ultimate height of a man's 
pleasure--for all that he felt a shame he wished to 
forget. He swallowed; feeling how huge the gag was that 
stuffed his mouth. He could feel how stiff his cock was, 
straining at his tight leathern trousers. It had been 
rigid ever since that man, Geoffrey--and yes, damn him, 
he was handsome, and did he resemble him?--had begun to 
bind his hands and arms and gag his mouth.

The Sheriff released his captive's beard and slowly 
stood upright. He was still smiling.

"You do remember that night, don't you, Robin?" He 
chuckled. "You do, I'm sure, and so I'm equally sure you 
know why I had you brought here, bound and gagged like 
this, and why I wanted to be alone with you."

"Mmmmugulmph! Mmmmmummmph!" Robin Hood grunted into his 
gag and shook his head, but the Sheriff only smiled more 
broadly. He half turned and pointed to a low bed that 
stood out from one wall of the room.

"Over there, Robin."

The other man followed his gesture with his eyes and 
then looked back, shaking his head violently.

"Nugulummmgulph! Nummmmgummmph!" He grunted again into 
the cruel gag.

The Sheriff only chuckled again and then bent over his 
captive. Robin Hood struggled desperately as the other 
man dragged him toward the bed. Bound as he was, he was 
still strong, and he fought hard. He tried to kick at 
the Sheriff and he grunted and mumbled angrily through 
his gag. The other man never lost his amused expression, 
despite having to use all his own great strength to 
force his bound opponent across the room and up onto the 
low couch. 

Taking some more leather strips from a pouch at his 
belt, he used them to bind first one and then the other 
of Robin Hood's ankles to the side slats of the couch. 
When he was done, Robin Hood lay face upward, his arms 
and hands bound behind him, his feet secured to either 
corner. He jerked and tugged angrily at his bonds, and 
struggled to shout through the smothering gag, but it 
was to no avail. The leather strips were tight and 
unyielding, and the gag muffled his cries to pathetic 
grunts.

Taking his dagger from his belt, the Sheriff bent over 
the helpless man and used the sharp blade to cut the 
groin of Robin Hood's snug leggings. He put away the 
dagger and then drew his captive's stiff cock free. It 
stood upright, rigid with excitement, a tiny bead of 
precum glistening at the tip.

Robin Hood writhed and strained at his bonds and made a 
cry more like a whimper than a shout into his thick gag. 
A single tear squeezed from one eye as he struggled in 
shame and anger and desire. Without a word, the Sheriff 
began to stroke his prisoner's stiff dick, his long 
fingers encircling the other man's tender privates, 
applying gentle pressure with practiced skill. Robin 
Hood trembled uncontrollably in the leather strips that 
held him helpless and whimpered into the mouth-filling 
gag.

For several long moments, there was silence in the room, 
broken only by the smothered whimpering of the bound and 
gagged Robin Hood. The Sheriff stroked his captive's 
cock slowly, keen to heighten the fellow's unwilling 
pleasure, but determined to prolong his control over the 
man's desire. Lying on the couch, Robin Hood strained in 
his bonds, but he knew that he was no longer truly eager 
to be freed from them. He relished the feeling of forced 
surrender, of being made so helpless and against his 
will. 

The tight bands of leather on his wrists held his hands 
behind him irresistibly. The bands around his arms and 
chest held him even more immobile. The soft wad of the 
gag filled his mouth, stuffed it solidly from far back 
between his distended jaws, and the tight binding of the 
heavy silk scarf sealed up his mouth, holding the gag 
firmly in place and defeating any attempt he made to 
loosen it. He twisted in his bonds, straining with all 
his might against them, and he felt nothing but deep 
arousal in discovering again and again that he was 
helpless, that all his struggling gained him nothing. 

He moaned and whimpered into the thick and smothering 
gag, and again he felt nothing but a yet deeper arousal 
at how the soft cloth and the ruthlessly tight bandage 
silenced and muffled his every attempted noise. The 
fingers in his groin stroked and caressed his trembling 
cock, and he opened his eyes to stare up at his captor. 

The Sheriff found deep satisfaction in his ability to 
excite this handsome man who lay beside him, bound, 
gagged, utterly helpless. This was his sworn enemy, the 
outlaw he had vowed to bring to justice. The man hated 
him, had spent the past dozen years defying his orders, 
defying the law of the land, taunting him with his 
ability to escape his every scheme to take him captive. 
But there had been that one night two years before, when 
he had overpowered the other man in single combat, man 
to man, they two alone, and he had won.

He had surprised himself when, instead of ending the 
conflict then and there with a quick thrust of his 
sword, he had instead knocked the man unconscious. He 
had told himself that he was acting in deference to the 
law, but he knew all too well that the law would have 
sanctioned the fellow's immediate death, and even if it 
had not, he was the law in this part of King John's 
realm. 

He had bound the man while he was insensible, and then, 
thinking he might have followers nearby, had gagged him. 
He had taken a very physical pleasure in doing both 
these things. He had long known that to take another man 
in physical desire while the fellow was bound and gagged 
and at his mercy was the most exciting act of sensual 
love to him. 

He had often taken one or the other of his officers in 
that fashion, but they, whatever their real feelings in 
the matter, had always been his willing partners. 
Geoffrey, his sergeant at arms, was another matter, but 
he was determined not to think about the sergeant on 
this night.

But that night in the forest, and now this night in his 
castle, were both something different from any other 
physical taking of a man he had experienced. Robin Hood 
was his true enemy, and yet... and yet. The sheriff had 
no way of explaining these things to himself. The man 
was his enemy, and to have him captive satisfied some 
need to defend his honor, soiled by the fellow's 
defiance for so long, but it was far more than that. 

To find that the man was so deeply aroused by being 
sexually played with while he was truly his enemy's 
captive, that had astounded the Sheriff and yet it had 
aroused him more than anything he had ever known. It was 
in part the feeling of power, the knowledge that he 
could force this man who had so long defied him to 
submit to his will, and force him to want to submit, 
even as he tried to resist, that was part. But there was 
something more, something deeper. 

He knew that somewhere he and Robin Hood were alike, too 
alike, in this as in so many things else. He had long 
recognized that his enemy truly believed in the 
righteousness of his actions, as much as he believed in 
his own. He had come, reluctantly, to respect that 
truth, once he had recognized it, and with it, he had 
begun to respect the man.

The man. He looked down at the man beside him. Robin 
Hood was straining against his bindings with all his 
strength. Sweat beaded his forehead, and his face was 
clenched in a grimace of pain that the Sheriff knew was 
actually pleasure. He increased the intensity of his 
strokes on his captive's cock, and then he watched with 
increased arousal as the other man struggled desperately 
either to escape the pleasure of his captor's torturing 
fingers or to find some final release. His bindings and 
his gag prevented his escape, and the Sheriff was 
careful not to let the other man climax at his hands.

The Sheriff stilled his fingers and sat looking down at 
the outlaw with a smile. Then he took another length of 
leather from his belt, and he used this to bind up his 
prisoner's privates. He tied the thin strip first around 
the base of the man's cock and balls, and then he looped 
the soft leather around the base of his balls alone, 
pulling it snug and forcing the man's testicles into a 
tight globe, the tender skin of his sack stretched 
smooth. 

For a moment he simply sat there, gently caressing the 
man's balls, while Robin Hood twisted in his bindings 
and whimpered softly into his gag. Then, abruptly 
standing, the Sheriff bent over his captive's feet and 
quickly unbound the strips of leather that fastened his 
ankles to the couch rails. Robin Hood was still too 
aroused to fully realize what was happening, and before 
he could respond, the Sheriff had flipped him neatly 
onto his stomach and was already binding his ankles down 
once more, but this time with his captive face down on 
the couch. 

Robin Hood began to resist, but too late, and, bound as 
he was, his resistance was hampered and unavailing. In a 
moment, the Sheriff had him firmly secured. Reaching to 
the top of the couch, the Sheriff pulled the bolster 
from under Robin Hood's head and pushed it under the 
bound man's hips, being careful to ensure that the 
fellow's leather-tied privates were positioned over the 
thick roll of cushion, his cock pointing straight up his 
taut belly. 

The Sheriff now took out another long leather strap, and 
this he used to bind his prisoner's shoulders down to 
the bed. He passed the narrow band under one of Robin 
Hood's strong arms and up over his broad back, then 
under the opposite arm and through the armpit, like the 
first. Then he pulled the two ends of the strap tight 
and down over the top rail of the couch, where he tied 
them in a secure knot. 

Without pausing, he reached behind his captive and Robin 
Hood felt with surprise the leather bindings on his 
wrists being freed. The freedom was useless to him, 
however; with his shoulders secured, and his upper arms 
bound to his sides, and his feet tied to the bed, he 
could do nothing to help himself. And even this hampered 
freedom was short-lived. The Sheriff immediately used 
the leather strip to bind his right hand down to the 
frame at the side of the mattress, and then, taking 
another strip from his pouch, used that to bind down his 
left hand on the opposite side. Then he stood back to 
study his handiwork.

The outlaw lay face down on the couch, his body 
stretched taut between the bindings on his shoulders and 
those on his ankles, forced down tight to the mattress 
except at his hips. The bolster under his hips forced 
the man's ass up, exposing its rounded contours to the 
Sheriff's appreciative eyes. The bindings on the 
fellow's upper arms kept them pulled closely to his 
chest, and his hands were immobilized by the bindings 
that held them to either side of his hips. 

The Sheriff watched with aroused satisfaction as his 
captive strained at the leather straps and was unable to 
do more than twist slightly from side to side. He was 
utterly helpless and vulnerable. The Sheriff came around 
to hunker down at the top of the couch, and Robin Hood 
forced his head up to lie with his chin on the mattress, 
glaring back at his captor.

The Sheriff cupped his hand under the bound man's 
bearded chin and rubbed his long thumb gently over the 
tight swath of the heavy silk scarf tied through Robin 
Hood's mouth. He smiled into the man's angry gray eyes.

"Quite helpless, aren't you, Robin? Bound so that you 
cannot move, gagged so that you cannot speak or cry out. 
The handsome and famous outlaw, Robin Hood, is just a 
man, after all, isn't he? A very handsome man, but a man 
for all that. And at my mercy now."

"Mmmmugulummmph! Mmmmummmummph!" Robin Hood struggled 
with the huge gag, angry and ashamed to find that doing 
so stiffened his bound cock even more. To be made a 
prisoner of the Sheriff in this manner, to be bound down 
with his cock tied into violent erection, to have his 
mouth stuffed full of a huge gag, to be utterly at the 
other man's mercy in this way deeply angered him yet 
deeply aroused him, and he was uncertain if the anger 
were not merely a shamed response to his arousal.

His cock lay pressed tightly between his belly and the 
cushion, and he felt desperately impelled to rub his 
stiff member against the firm but yielding mound. But to 
do so would be to acknowledge openly, to himself and to 
his captor, that he was aroused by, even as he resisted, 
his bound and gagged helplessness, and he refused to do 
that.

The Sheriff stood up and took out his dagger. With a 
careful stroke, his slit the his captive's leathern 
trousers up the center of his ass and then cut the heavy 
leather belt that encircled the man's waist. Putting 
away the knife, he peeled the soft leather away, 
revealing the other man's firm and rounded backside. 

"Mmmmmmugulummmph!! Mummmmmmmummmph!!" Robin Hood 
grunted into his smothering gag.

With a private smile, the Sheriff took up a flask from 
beside the couch and spilled from it onto his long 
fingers some thick oil. Putting down the flask, he began 
to oil his captive's asshole, gently rubbing the slick 
lubricant around the tightly constricted entrance. With 
the tip of one finger, he probed at the man's hole, 
forcing the finger end inside and rubbing more oil 
around the opening.

"Mmmmmmugulummmmph!!"

After a moment, the Sheriff took up the flask once more 
and spread more oil on his hand and spilled some into 
the crack of his victim's ass. Then he began again to 
caress the bound man's asshole, and then to probe it 
once more, first with one fingertip, and then with two, 
thrusting his long fingers in slowly, first part way, 
then all the way, to their full length.

Robin Hood struggled, but he was bound and gagged and 
unable to defend himself--and half or more unwilling to 
defend himself as well. He found he was beginning to 
struggle to push his hips back against the other man's 
caressing hand. Then he caught himself, and stopped, 
jerking at the leather strips that held him nearly 
immobile and whimpering in shame into the huge mouth-
filling gag.

"It's all right, Robin," the Sheriff said softly. "It's 
all right, my handsome outlaw. You struggled the last 
time, too, you know, but I took you just the same. I 
have you bound down so securely, there cannot be any 
thought of your escape, and I have you gagged so tightly 
you cannot even plead for mercy. What will be, will be, 
Robin." 

As he spoke, he continued to probe and stroke the 
helpless man's asshole, thrusting in three long fingers 
and rubbing around and around the slowly loosening 
circle. After several long minutes in which the only 
sounds were his own increasingly rough breathing and the 
gag-smothered whimpers of his captive, the Sheriff 
reached down and slowly unlaced the leather thongs that 
fastened the groin of his leather pants. 

As he did so, out sprang his long cock, which had been 
straining in rigid arousal long since, from the moments 
when he had sat in his room, waiting for Robin Hood to 
be brought from the dungeon as he had ordered. With a 
deep sigh, he now oiled his own cock, and then, using 
his left hand, stroked himself gently while he once more 
probed his victim's ass. 

"I am going to take you now, Robin," He murmured. "I am 
going to take you the way I did that night in the 
forest, while you struggle in your bindings and grunt 
and whimper into your gag. I will even tell you, Robin, 
as I did that night, that having you this way, bound, 
gagged, helpless but straining to resist, to do that 
arouses me more than anything I have ever known in love-
making with another man. I might fear that by telling 
you I would lessen your will to struggle against what I 
am going to do, lest your struggles heighten my 
pleasure, as I promise you they will, but I know very 
well that you desire me to take you just as you are, 
bound, gagged, and helpless, as much as I desire to take 
you in this fashion."

Robin Hood stiffened in his bindings, and he felt hot 
tears leak from the corners of his eyes despite all his 
efforts to suppress them. But even as he felt the 
welling of shame fill his chest, he felt the other man's 
cock probing his asshole, and he struggled, whether to 
resist or to help he could not understand. 

The Sheriff had mounted the couch and was now lying 
close over his bound prisoner, his hips over the other 
man's hips, his fingers guiding his stiff cock against 
the other man's asshole. With a sudden thrust, he forced 
the swollen tip past the tight circle of muscle, and 
then he seized the other man's hips and held himself 
tight to them as his prisoner bucked and struggled to 
throw him off and out.

"Mmmmmugulllummmmph!! Mummmmmmugummmph!! 
Mugulummmmmmmmmph!!!"

The Sheriff held hard to the other man, riding his 
struggles, and at the same time slowly thrusting his 
long dick deep into the other fellow's ass. At last he 
sank down to wrap his arms over the other man's bound 
shoulders.

"Ah, Robin, my poor man, resist me if you can now. 
Escape me if you can now. You are truly my prisoner, 
now, you are my bound, my gagged, my helpless prisoner," 
the Sheriff whispered into the ear of the handsome man 
beneath him, and he began slowly to stroke his cock up 
and down again in the fellow's tight asshole.

Robin Hood strained against the leather bindings and 
moaned into the gag. His cock was rigid with excitement, 
pressed now between his belly and the cushion with the 
other man's heavy weight crushing down upon him and the 
man's cock thrusting in his asshole. 

Each slow pulse of the man's strokes rubbed Robin Hood's 
aching dick against the firm bolster, bringing him just 
a little closer to the edge, a feeling he struggled to 
control but found he could not. As his arousal grew, he 
ceased even to think of his shame and simply rose up on 
the pulse of his desire, straining against his bindings 
and relishing how the tight lashings of leather held him 
pressed to the couch, whimpering and moaning into his 
huge gag and savoring how it silenced him, the great wad 
filling his mouth, the thick scarf holding the wad 
firmly between his jaws.

"Mmmmmmmummm. Mugummmmmmmph."

Above him, the Sheriff gradually hastened the rhythm of 
his strokes, pushing his cock in and out of his 
captive's ass. He lay full length upon the other man, 
and being the taller of the two, he covered the man's 
upper body completely with his own. He gripped the 
fellow's shoulders hard in his strong hands, and laid 
his head close beside the others, and began once more to 
croon into the bound man's ear.

"Feel me in you, Robin, feel me there inside you. This 
is for all those times you ran away from me, hid from 
me, escaped me, but not that one night, and not tonight, 
no, not tonight. I have you now, Robin, you are mine 
tonight, my prisoner, my captive, my defiant outlaw made 
helpless. You were fighting me before, Robin, just the 
way you did two years ago, but you're not fighting me 
now, are you, Robin? Yes, struggle, that's it, I want 
you to struggle, yes, that's it, try to shout, try to 
curse me through that gag that fills your mouth, that's 
it, try, Robin, fight me, come on, fight me."

Aroused to anger and to desire by the taunting words 
murmured in a tone so confusingly tender in his ear, 
Robin Hood jerked and struggled with his bindings and 
grunted into his gag. His struggles served only to rub 
his straining cock harder against the bolster, and he 
felt the pressure of his cum rising inside him. Above 
him, inside him, the Sheriff thrust harder and harder, 
breath rasping in his throat. 

Suddenly the man rose up, pushing back on his arms as 
his hands gripped his captive's shoulders, and he flung 
back his head. His strong frame jerked rapidly and then 
shuddered, and then he pumped his cock into the other 
man's ass in an unseeing frenzy, wordless shouts 
burbling from his mouth. 

Beneath him, as he felt the other man's hot gism flood 
up inside him, Robin Hood felt his own hot cum burst 
from his straining cock, spurting not once but twice, 
three times, four times, five, and he shouted into the 
huge gag. His body jerked and trembled in his bindings, 
and then, as the blotting fever of his climax fell away, 
he felt himself crushed tight in the strong arms of the 
Sheriff.

"Robin, Robin, you bastard, O my lord god, O you fucker, 
you bastard, I own you, I've taken you, surrender now, 
surrender, you bastard, I've had you and you are mine 
now, I'll have you again, I'll not let the law have you, 
you bastard, you're mine."

Robin Hood half heard and half understood the man's 
stumbling words choked out harshly into his ear, and he 
found himself bucking against his bindings, striving 
somehow to force himself back into the other man's arms, 
afraid of his desire, but desperate to remain joined to 
the strong man above him.

He groaned and wept into the huge gag, his emotions at 
war within himself and burning his heart. The Sheriff 
brought up his hand and roughly caressed the other man's 
thatch of sandy hair. He murmured again into his 
captive's ear, his voice calmer now and yet the more 
intense for that very reason.

"I mean what I say, Robin, I'll not let the law hang 
you. I am the law, and you are mine."

The Sheriff clasped his bound captive deep in his arms, 
a long sigh escaping him as he drifted toward sleep. 
Beneath him, the outlaw lay still, listening to the 
other man's deepening breath and drifting away with him 
into the safe dark. Tomorrow, he told himself, he would 
try to understand tomorrow.

Outside, in the hallway, the sergeant at arms stood 
guard. He had held himself stiff and erect all the 
while, no motion, no sound betraying that he heard his 
lord and his lord's captive within the room he guarded, 
or, if he heard, that he felt anything at all. 

In the moonlight, the glint of a tear showed at one eye. 
He blinked, and the glint was gone. He remained 
standing, listening to the silence. The slanting 
moonlight moved slowly on the stone floor at his feet.

END

Complaints, compliments, brickbats or kudos: 
dbrown@ggu.edu

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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 25