Sex in C Major
Chapter 34

He was shaking. He could hear his own fingers scrabbling on the bars, from very far away. His ankles were twisting in the tape. His neck was straining.

Cold pressed to his arse.

Another. Just as wide. Just as relentless. Just as deep. Stefan sobbed as he felt the two toys pressing against each other inside, through his own flesh. The jerk of his lungs, the rattle of his sobs, only rubbed them harder against him, and his knees buckled. He hung crying in his owner's trap. His whole being was the pain and pressure around the toys inside of him. The strain of muscle. The sting of tearing skin. Everything was spinning. His vision was dancing with black spots.

Everything everything-narrowed to the unyielding pressure.

Something clicked.

A padlock.

"There we go," his master murmured.

Tape tore. The hairs on Stefan's skin were ripped away. His hand was taken in warm fingers. Dragged down his own belly. They touched metal, biting into his waist and hips. "Nice and secure."

Stefan cried blindly. A belt. A chastity belt. He tried to clench and force the toys out, but his muscles spasmed and fluttered, useless and weak around their bulk.

"Does it hurt?"

"N-no, Sir."

It would. Oh, but it would. He could barely move. He clung to his owner's arms around his stomach, too weak to support himself.

"Do you like it?"

Stefan's hand was pushed down against his belly. The toys shifted inside, and he shuddered, tears running down his face.

"Oh God-"

"Do you like this?"

Their joined hands were moved in probing circles. A hard massage. Working at the bulk inside without touching him, like moving an object in a pocket from the outside of his jeans. The toys moved his flesh like putty, rubbing against every hidden inch inside, their hard surfaces unyielding and inescapable.

Stefan whimpered, shuddering as though in a seizure, as he was lowered to the floor. He sprawled on his back where his master lay him. And when his master drew Stefan's own hands down to the belt, and began to massage them over his own thighs and belly, the movement almost made Stefan pass out with the overwhelming rush of lust and pleasure.

The grip hardened. The circles squeezed and meandered. Stefan shuddered and cried, writhed and scrabbled, as hands clutched handfuls of his flesh, slapped at his thighs and belly, rocked his hips and twisted him from side to side-anything to move the toys that fucked him, anything to increase the torture of that rubber-clad metal ripping him open, held inside by the cruel metal clasp of the belt.

It all felt so filthy.

He was being fucked open by toys. He had been locked into a metal belt and was being rubbed and massaged over monstrous metal cocks. It was like reverse masturbation rather than rub his own cock, he had his entire body rubbed around the dildos fucking him from the inside.

And Stefan dissolved around them. He could feel his arousal, hot and wet, around the belt. When his master licked it from the crease of his thigh, the rasp of tongue made Stefan cry again. When his knees were taken in rough hands and held around his master's hips, and the cock he'd wanted from the beginning began to rock over his belt and belly, Stefan began to beg.

And when his master's response was to fold him tighter, until Stefan's cries were swallowed by his master's hungry mouth, and the toys were fucking him in thrusts, hard and unyielding against his own body, Stefan felt the world slipping through his fingers.

This-

This was him. Just him. Tears on his face. Pleas for more, less, something, anything, everything. A voice he barely recognised. Cruel metal on his hips. A cock captured in cold. Another, heavy and slick, sliding against his belly. An arse torn open around a bulk that made his legs shaky and numb. A cunt, plugged by a mass that fucked him with his own lust. He was a body, a sheath, a toy for his master's amusement.

To be probed.

To be opened up and fucked as his master wished. To hold his master's possessions. To lick his master's cum from his own skin. To beg his master for more, for it all to be real-because, oh, he wanted it to be real. He wanted the dicks inside to be hot and leaking. Wanted bodies crushing him as they fucked into him. Wanted hot skin and cruel hands. Wanted to be possessed.

His breath caught.

"Yours," he whispered.

His master stilled.

"What?"

"This belongs to you. This body. It's yours. Its holes are for your cock, not others. Not toys."

A smirk crossed his master's face. The world shook. Hair was pulled. The head of a cock pressed to his lips, and pushed inside.