I love this pic. Fellows poured some great emotion into the faces of the characters. I wish it had been mine ;) So I hijacked it by writing a story for it (with permission).
It was zeitnot.
His lips quivered as he held the King between his teeth. Sweat dribbled down his face and into his eyes, causing them to water and run as well. Arms straining against rope bindings was the most he could manage to clear his vision.
Liam could see his time ticking away on the game clock. He’d wasted almost three minutes frantically attempting to chain his derailed train of thought together and himself out of this mess. He’d squandered his time early in the game, struggling to move pieces with his mouth and now there was no time left.
Professor Kasparov had a glint in his eyes. A hungry look that said he’d already won. That he intended to stick more than just the White King up Liam’s ass.
Zeitnot.
Earlier, when a Rook he’d advanced with his tongue faltered and then fell to the floor, Kasparov made no move to pick up the piece. Instead he waited, scowling, while Liam awkwardly lowered himself to the ground and retrieved it with his mouth like a dog.
Blushing, he attempted to place it back on the table only to receive a sharp blow from the man’s crop on his already raw butt. Another red welt against a dozen.
“Fuck.” Was all Liam could muster as the piece tumbled away and the boy recoiled in pain.
“Pieces are played while sitting. Pick it up. Sit down and return it to play. Time is ticking.” Came the curt response.
Zeitnot.
Kasparov took his Queen, taunted him with her fallen corpse and a wry grin. All that remained were two very impotent Pawns and an equally useless Whtie King. He could work with this. He could recover. He just had to concentrate. Something he had been unable to do all night.
The confounded vibrator buzzed away on his erect cock. It throbbed needily in discordant time with the ticking of the timer. He was so close to climax, but only close. The vibrator was not enough to finish him. All he could do was whimper through gritted teeth and try to ignore the biological urge.
He licked his lips and stared at the board of black and white through blonde, sweaty hair. All his body was a knot of tension, abs clenching in anticipation. Liam was no chess featherweight. Kasparov would not have taken such an interest in him if that was not the case. Or so Liam told himself a day earlier. It was far too late to be thinking about that now.
Zeitnot.
His brow furrowed with concentration. He stared at the chess board and tried to read a move or two ahead. What Kasparov would do if Liam played here or there. His nipples ached, distracting his planning. He sighed with resignation. No matter what choice he made he was going to get fucked.
Checkmate.



