Stalin shivered, the coolness of the room raising goose bumps on his naked skin. The silence amplified every sound, and in the distance he could hear voices. He shuddered. Perhaps now he'd be rescued from his predicament.

Then, footsteps, and he closed his eyes, hoping against hope that this time...

The door opened, and Trotsky walked in. Stalin recognized the sound of his boots against the stone floor.

"Such a pretty picture you make," Trotsky murmured, and the sly note in his voice made Stalin shudder. It meant he was ready to play, and that Stalin was to be his plaything no matter what they liked to call it…

He shifted, and Trotsky chuckled softly. "I love seeing you like this, arse in the air, naked and ready for me," he said.

Stalin heard the swish of clothes as they hit the floor, and he tensed.

Fuck the rules. He was not guilty about what had happened. But who cares? It was Lenin`s choice. No apologize accepted for any kind of failure. And what really seemed bothering to everybody was that Trotsky seemed always ready to do anything Lenin wanted from him. Anything, and Stalin hated him for this.

"You've been a bad boy, haven't you?" Trotsky continued, walking over to this trunk of tricks. He stood in front of it, deliberately obscuring Stalin's view. "So, how should I punish you?"

Stalin personally thought he'd been punished enough, trussed up the way he was, his cock and balls restrained so that he couldn't come, spread open and visible to the room, but of course, he didn't attempt to speak, knowing that this would not make Trotsky any kinder to him. He would take revenge later.

"Now, where was I?"

A swish of air, and a solid wooden panel hit his tender arse cheek, startling a whimper from him.

"I should make you to count them out," Trotsky said, "but I'll let you get by without that this time."

A few more smacks had Stalin squirming, but he knew better than to try to rub against the sheets. His cock leaked copiously as smack after smack sounded in the room, and Stalin's flesh heated up.

"So beautiful," Trotsky finally said after about twenty blows, panting as if he'd been running a long race.

Stalin heard the clatter of the paddle as it hit the floor, tensing as a gentle hand caressed his flaming arse. He moaned in his throat as the butt plug that had been in him, preparing him, twitched. It was Trotsky's reminder of his power over him...

"At least I know you're ready for me."

'Fuck you…'

Stalin had a millisecond of warning as the plug was removed and replaced by Trotsky's much larger cock. He moaned again, and Trotsky laughed softly as he slowly and deliberately impaled him. Without a pause, Trotsky began deep, steady strokes, setting up a fast rhythm as he fucked him.

"So, did you miss me while I was gone? Doing your job in Zazarin" he asked, and Stalin didn't answer, couldn't answer, the gag making words impossible.

"I imagine you did," he whispered, his breath hot on Stalin's cheek. "I imagine you lay here in the dark and thought about me, filling you, over and over, fucking you so hard..."

Stalin would have been keening about now, if he could have made a sound, but as it was, all he could manage was a choked moan. He tightened his arse muscles and Trotsky bit his shoulder as he came in a series of pulses that Stalin swore he could feel inside. A few more strokes and Trotsky collapsed on top of him, fumbling for a minute to untie Stalin's by now chafed hands which had been bound behind him.

Stalin's heart was still racing and he was trembling with the need to come. How embarrassing, how much He hated him for this...

Trotsky sensing his hardness, slid down, and Stalin closed his eyes at the first touch of that divinely talented tongue on his loosened hole, still dripping with come. That was a part of punishment. He was to be humiliated.

Soon he was crying as Trotsky's furled tongue licked inside him, the slurping noises driving him utterly insane.

"Want to come, Iosef?" Trotsky asked as he pulled away, but Stalin was too far gone to answer, even if he could have.

Restrains were pulled and Stalin almost screamed as his cock and mouth were suddenly freed. He came immediately, shaking uncontrollably as his cock released spurt after spurt of his essence onto the bedclothes. Swept away in his ecstasy, he sighs as tries to catch his breath. He had to confess that it was enjoyable after all. Stalin was ready to this anyhow, anytime with Lenin, as he was much softer. But this was bloody Trotsky.

"You back with me yet?" Trotsky asked eventually.

Stalin sighed. "Mmmm."

"Was that what you wanted?" Trotsky asked , laughter in his voice.

Stalin frowned and turned away wanting so badly to punch him in face, but He paused as he remembered to ask his question from before. "Who was that at the door, anyway?"

Trotsky grinned. "Lenin. I told him you were... tied up."