Sex in C Major
Chapter 32

His owner.

Stefan had been masturbated in his owner's lap and had been brazen enough to ask for more. No wonder he was here. He gathered his knees under himself, and pushed up to improve the angle. To take his owner's cock deeper into his throat.

To open his throat.

To push.

It hurt, and it was uncomfortable. He fought every instinct to cough and close his throat again and did it. His nose pressed to the base, and he breathed deep through his nose for a long second before drawing back.

And stopping.

The music bellowed, and Stefan choked as a hand clapped over the back of his neck and held him there. Held him pinned on his master's dick. Held his throat open around it.

Panic.

He writhed in the rope. His hands twisted, but wouldn't come free. He cried, but made no sound. His breaths were short and sharp. Wet.

Then his mouth was flooded. He coughed and wrenched himself free. Cum streamed from his lips. His jaw was caught in a hand, and the head of that cock was pressed to his lips again, cum smearing over his mouth and cheeks. When he opened his mouth to protest, it was pushed back inside. He swallowed, coughing on it and rejecting the bitter taste and strange texture.

The world spun. The rugs burned his knees. And then he was face down on the floor, a hand on the back of his neck. He sobbed helplessly, his dick desperate to be touched, his master's cum splattered over his face and neck.

And a hot breath rasped in his ear, barely audible over the relentless march of the music.

"Stay."

The hand disappeared.

The music rampaged around him, through him, in him.

Shivering alone on the rug, bound and blind, every inch of him aching and empty, desperate to be fucked and filled-

Stefan stayed. 12

A week elapsed between that call and the following one.

A week in which Stefan obsessed over lying on that rug, naked and bound by the wrists, the itch of drying cum on his lips. A week in which he fantasised of being bound at the ankles, too, and gagged to prevent him from screaming. A week in which he woke, sweating and hard, from vivid dreams of unrecognisable hands turning him onto his front, and rug-burn being scored deep into his chest as he was fucked by unknown cocks, over and over again. Until the cum spilled with every new dick, and he could feel the blood. Until, when someone dragged him up by the hair to prise the gag free and fuck his mouth a second time, Stefan could do nothing but hang there in agony like a ragdoll, his legs unable to support himself.

A week in which he burned.

Blowjobs, Stefan was beginning to realise, were torture.

They were humiliating. Degrading. But they were a precursor. Once the cum had spilled from his mouth, thick and hot, his entire body burned and ached. And the only way to stop the ache was to be hurt. After sucking Daz off, Stefan wanted to be punished more. Wanted to be held down. Wanted a great pressure to pin him to the floor, the wall, wherever, and then be stretched wide around a cock and fucked until his skin was scraped raw, and he could feel nothing but the relentless hammering of Daz's dick.

It hadn't happened that night. And in the ensuing week, Stefan felt more desperate than ever. By the Saturday night, he had taken to downloading more porn on the neighbour's wifi, and was halfway through a video of a van rape when the phone finally and typically-rang.

"You sound breathless."

"Uh-"

"Are you wanking?"

"Yes, Sir," Stefan admitted. His fingers lingered hopefully. Perhaps Daz would-

"Stop."

Stefan blinked, and removed his hand. "Yes, Sir."

"I'm coming over. Ten minutes. I suggest you're naked when I arrive."

Stefan swallowed. "Yes"

The phone had already gone dead. Stefan tossed the phone onto the kitchen counter and hastily ran for the shower. He stripped and scrubbed hastily, for once ignoring the cold, and rubbed himself dry with the towel until his skin pinked, irritated and sore, rather than drip-drying like usual. By the time he'd managed to comb his hair back into place, he could hear the bang of the communal door, and footsteps on the landing.

The knock was heavy.

Demanding.

Aggressive.

Lust pooled in Stefan's belly, and he took a deep breath before going to the door, rattling the chain loudly so he wouldn't be in trouble for the delay in unlocking the security cage. He opened it just wide enough for Daz to slip in but then staggered as the door was pushed wide open, and Daz strode in like it didn't matter if anybody saw.