The mirror reflected perfection. James adjusted his red silk braces, the fabric smooth and cool against his fingertips, and smirked at his reflection. The black tuxedo was impeccable, tailored to hug his frame with precision, but it was the redthat made it unforgettable. The lining of the jacket, the braces, even the redvsatin boxers peeking just above his waistband--bold, unapologetic, and his. He smoothed the lapels, letting his fingers linger on the red bright satin inside, then dressed in sheer socks with garters he stepped into his patent opera pumps. The shine was blinding. He looked like a man who owned the world. And tonight, he would.

The black-tie event was in full swing by the time James arrived. The room buzzed with low laughter and the clink of glasses, a sea of tuxedos and expensive cologne. His eyes scanned the crowd, taking in the polished shoes, the crisp white shirts, the flash of cufflinks. His cock stirred at the sight. So many men, he thought, and every one of them here for me. He sipped his champagne, the bubbles sharp on his tongue, and allowed himself a moment to bask in the attention. He could feel their eyes on him, their envy, their admiration. He was the guest of honor, after all.

The host took the stage, a tall man with a voice like velvet and a smile that could cut glass. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began, though James noted there were no ladies in sight, "tonight, we have the privilege of honoring a man who needs no introduction. A man who has made his mark in the world of business, and--" he paused, his gaze lingering on James, "--elsewhere."

The audience chuckled, a low rumble that sent a thrill up James's spine. He stood, smoothing his jacket as he made his way to the stage. The eyes followed him, hungry, and he reveled in it. But as he reached the steps, he caught the host's gaze again, and something in it made him falter. It wasn't admiration. It was anticipation.

"Ah, James," the host said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Looking sharp, as always. But--" his eyes dropped, just for a moment, to James's groin, "--someone's clearly excited to be here."
The room erupted in laughter, and James felt heat rise in his cheeks. He glanced down, mortified to see the unmistakable bulge in his tailored pants. He couldn't help it. The sight of all those men, all that power, all that potential--it had gone straight to his cock. He adjusted his jacket, trying to hide it, but the damage was done.

The host leaned in, his voice low and teasing. "Don't worry, James. I think the audience appreciates your enthusiasm."

James forced a smile, though his heart was pounding. He could feel the weight of their stares, their laughter, and something else--something darker. He scanned the crowd, his stomach twisting as he recognized faces. Faces of men he'd crossed, men he'd ruined. His hands clenched at his sides, but he kept his composure. He was James fucking Blackwood. He didn't back down.

The host turned back to the audience, his smile widening. "Now, I think we all know James has had quite the run. But--" he paused, letting the word hang in the air, "--who here thinks it's time he learned a little humility?"

The room erupted in cheers, a wave of noise that hit James like a punch to the gut. He swallowed hard, his cock throbbing despite--no, because of--the danger he felt. The host turned to him, his eyes glinting. "James, it seems the audience has spoken. So, who's first?"

James's breath caught. He could feel the heat in the room, the anticipation, the lust. His eyes scanned the crowd, and he saw hands raised, men stepping forward, their eyes locked on him. He didn't know what was coming, but he knew one thing--he was hard as hell, and he wasn't leaving this stage until he got exactly what he wanted.

"Anyone?" the host prompted, his voice dripping with amusement.
A man stepped forward, his tuxedo perfectly tailored, his eyes cold and calculating. James recognized him immediately. Michaels. The man he'd screwed over in the takeover last year. Michaels smiled, slow and dangerous, as he climbed the stairs to the stage. "I'll go first."
James's chest tightened, but he straightened his back, meeting Michaels' gaze head-on. "Michaels," he said, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him. "What's the plan?"

Michael stepped closer, his lips curling into a smirk. "Oh, James. You're about to learn that actions have consequences." He reached out, his fingers brushing the lapel of James's jacket, and leaned in, his breath hot against James's ear. "And tonight, we're going to teach you exactly what that means."
James's cock twitched in his pants, and he swallowed hard. This wasn't what he'd expected, but fuck, it was exciting.He met Michaels' gaze, his heart pounding, and nodded. "Alright, Michaels. Show me what you've got."

James stood on the turning platform, his ankles and wrists shackled to the poles, his posture still defiantly straight despite the humiliating situation. He glanced around the room, his nostrils flaring as he took in the sea of tuxedos and smirks. He was still the center of attention, he reminded himself. That's what mattered. The spotlight was on him, even if it wasn't in the way he'd imagined.
The tall, velvet-voiced host sauntered over, his smile sharp enough to cut glass. "Well, well, James," he purred, his voice laced with amusement. "Looks like the tables have turned, haven't they?" He gestured to the platform, letting the audience drink in the sight of James bound and exposed. "Enjoying yourself yet?"

James forced a smirk, his heart racing. "Depends. Are you?"
The host chuckled, a low, dangerous sound that sent a shiver down James's spine. "Oh, you're going to be a delight tonight." He turned to the audience, raising his voice. "Gentlemen, let's make sure our guest of honor never forgets this evening."

The crowd erupted into cheers, their laughter echoing through the room. James's cock twitched in his pants, a mix of arousal and unease coursing through him. He wasn't sure what was coming next, but he wasn't about to let them see him sweat.

A waiter pushed a cart onto the stage, and James's eyes widened as he took in its contents: food, cream pies, eggs, and bottles of maple syrup. His brow furrowed. What the hell is this? He glanced at Michael, who stood nearby, his expression unreadable.

"What's this?" James asked, his voice sharper than he intended. "A buffet?"
Michael stepped forward, his cold eyes locking with James's. "Oh, it's a feast, alright," he said, his voice dripping with menace. "But not for you."

Before James could respond, Michael reached out, his fingers deftly undoing the buttons of James's tuxedo jacket. He pushed it open, revealing the red satin lining and braces beneath. James's breath hitched as Michaels' hands lingered on his chest, his touch both possessive and mocking.
"You always did have expensive taste," Michael murmured, his lips curling into a smirk. He reached for the cart, grabbing an egg and sliding it into the inside pocket of James's jacket. James tensed, his eyes widening as Michaels added two more eggs to the pockets of his tuxedo pants.

"What the hell are you doing?" James demanded, his voice tight with a mix of irritation and arousal. His cock was already hard, straining against the fabric of his pants, but he wasn't about to let Michael see how much this was affecting him.

Michael leaned in, his breath hot against James's ear. "You'll see," he whispered, his voice low and dangerous. He reached down, his hand brushing against James's cock through the fabric of his pants. "Enjoying yourself yet?"

James's breath hitched, his cock twitching under Michaels' touch. His mind raced, torn between the humiliation of the situation and the undeniable thrill of it. He glared at Michael, his voice trembling slightly. "Is this your idea of revenge?"

Michaels' eyes locked with his, a dark smile playing on his lips. "Oh, James," he said, his voice soft and menacing. "This is just the beginning." He raised his hands, slamming them down on the front of James's jacket. The eggs cracked, the cold, sticky mess oozing down the inside of the fabric.

The audience erupted into cheers, their laughter ringing in James's ears. He gritted his teeth, his face flushing as Michaels' hands moved to his pants, slapping the eggs there too. The cold, slimy sensation made him shudder, his cock still hard despite the humiliation.

Michael stepped back, his smirk widening as he turned to the audience. "Gentlemen, I think it's time we let someone else have a turn." He gestured to a man in the crowd, his voice dripping with mockery.

"Aaron, come on up. I think you've got some unfinished business with our guest of honor."
Aaron stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with a mix of anger and anticipation. James's stomach tightened as he recognized him. Aaron. Another man he'd crossed in the past--another man who had every reason to want revenge.

Michael clapped Aaron on the shoulder, his voice low and conspiratorial. "Enjoy yourself," he said, his lips curling into a smirk. "And make sure he remembers this."

Aaron's eyes locked with James's, a cold smile spreading across his face. He stepped closer, his hands already reaching for the cart. "Oh, I will," he said, his voice low and dangerous.
James's heart pounded, his cock still throbbing despite the fear creeping into the edges of his mind. He didn't know what Aaron had planned, but he was certain it wouldn't be pleasant.