Sex in C Major
Chapter 48

There was no pleasure unless his master gave it.

And his master had no obligation to do so.

So Stefan tried to simply breathe. Clutched at the sofa below him, spread his legs wider to feel the head of his master's dick against his skin, and breathed. Exhale with every thrust; inhale with every reprieve. And he wanted that cock inside him, but begging would be selfish whining. He had no right to ask such things. He was for his master's use, and however that use was required.

Still, he couldn't help but sigh with shaky ecstasy when he felt the hot splash of cum on his back.

And the feeling of sordid submission, of being nothing but a sex toy, when his master's hand smoothed down his stained skin, and coated fingers were pushed into his mouth.

He sucked.

"Better."

The wire shifted. Something small and hard pressed against his cunt. Pushed half-inside. Stefan clutched at it greedily, and sighed when the wire was placed over it, and it sank inside. Easily. Smoothly. His training was working.

Then-

"Fuck!"

His nerves exploded. The vibrations slammed against his walls and rattled his mind out of his very head. The belt shuddered, rubbing where the vibrator failed. Stefan thrashed, only for his hips to be ground down into the sofa. He clawed at the seat, and screamed for release. His cock throbbed and jumped, painful, hurting.

"Please! Please, I can't do this, please!"

"You know the word."

"No! No, no, please, let me finish, let me come, please, Sir, please!"

Hands came around his head. Yannis' hands. His mouth was sealed by an unfamiliar palm.

Something clicked.

The cup was moved.

And then the cold leather of the sofa touched his cock, and Stefan came. Came so hard, his nails tore on leather and his fingers bled. Came so hard, his back arched and exploded in pain. Came so hard, he screamed until the roaring in his ears was louder than that in his lungs.

It was like no climax he'd ever had before.

And then-

Then-

Nothing. 18

Stefan woke up in bed.

It was the master bedroom. The door was open. He was alone. Someone was singing in the shower-probably, judging by the ear-bleedingly loud warble, Daz-and the clock on the bedside table said it was almost ten o'clock in the morning.

Stefan didn't even know what day it was.

He turned over experimentally, and felt a deep, pleasant ache. His muscles were sore and yet, the pleasant kind of sore. As though he'd worked out, or had...well, had marathon sex. Which in a way, he supposed he had.

He was wearing another belt, but he hadn't been plugged. The belt was leather, with a thin metal waistband, and locked at the back with a combination padlock. His thigh cuff had been locked back around his leg, tight and warm, and there was a leather collar around his neck, too. His throat bobbed against it as he swallowed, and when he sat up carefully, he found it was tied by a leather strap to the headboard.

Stefan slowly gathered the duvet around him, and played with the collar.

He felt...

Warm. Wanted. Oddly...safe.

Alone in their bed, but...tethered. Grounded. Gathered up into the cuffs and collar and belt. Pieced back together and padlocked in.

He was a sex doll. A slave. A body to be filled and fucked.

But their doll. Their slave. Their body.

Stefan hugged his knees, suddenly feeling a sense of home and peace that had been lacking for so long. He wanted to be here. He didn't want to be put back into his clothes and sent home. He didn't want to go back to his flat and his mattress and lonely, endless days waiting for a call.

He wanted to stay.

And so when Daz returned to the bedroom, wearing nothing but water and a towel around his waist, Stefan crawled as far down the bed as the leather strap would allow, and reached out to unknot the cotton. The towel fell away. The cock behind it, soft and damp, filled gently as Stefan sucked on it, and he ignored everything but the heavy weight on his tongue and the taste of skin and soap as he massaged the hot flesh as it swelled, hardened, released, and softened again.

When he sat back on his heels, wiping the last of the cum from his lips, Stefan felt his master's hand stroke through his hair, soft but firm.

"What was that for?"

"To thank you, Sir."

"For what?"

"For the way I feel this morning."

"And how is that?"

Stefan hesitated.

Then: "Wanted."

His master tweaked his ear, then cuffed him almost affectionately around the head before turning and opening the wardrobe. Stefan watched him dress, and remained still when Daz walked around to the head of the bed, and opened the bedside drawers.