Sex in C Major
Chapter 73

"What's going on?" he whispered as Daz pulled on his hair, forcing his head back against the bench.

"Did I say you could ask questions?"

"N-no, Sir..."

The leather strap was locked over his neck. The blindfold was a thick eye-mask, and Stefan whimpered as another strap was locked over that. The world was suddenly very close, and the air hot and suffocating.

And he could feel his master's hand resting on his thigh. A finger slowly stroking his cunt. No pressure. Simple touch. Stefan pushed his hips up, seeking more. His master sighed, and another strap came down over Stefan's stomach, forcing him flat to the bench.

"Please," he whispered.

A door opened and closed. A rush of cold air.

"It needs to be quiet."

Yannis. Was this another experiment? Stefan's heart picked up as his hands were tapped, the fingers tweaked lightly as mute reminders of his only way to safeword now, and then his jaw was prised open by bruising fingers and a ball gag forced between his teeth. It was huge, bigger than the usual one. Stefan's jaw ached as though giving head, and he began to breathe through his nose.

"It's ready."

His owner's voice was deep and calm. His finger had returned to touching Stefan's cunt, teasing at the lips almost absent-mindedly.

Then it was gone. Cloth rustled. Music, deep and slow, began to reverberate through the shed. It sank into Stefan's ears, rubbed over his skin. Strings. Deep strings-cello and double bass. Missing something. They were waiting for something. Stefan was waiting for something. Where was Yannis? Where was his master? What were they going to do?

A viola cut into the symphony, high and pretty. It shivered through its notes. Delicate. Faint. A whisper over the boom and swell of more powerful instruments, and yet the most audible of them all. The double bass faded into mere thunder; the cello was rain drumming on a roof far away. And the viola sang, lifting through its notes, higher and higher, sliding over the strings to the final, the only untouched, the highest-

The note rang out.

And lips wrapped around Stefan's dick, and sucked.

He screamed.

Fire in his veins. His pulse staggered. The mouth on his cock didn't lick or nuzzle-it sucked, in hard pumps. Dragged. Demanding. Drinking from him. The world was tipping blindly in the dark. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't feel. Couldn't hear. There was nothing but that relentless pressure. Wet heat. The tug of teeth and tongue. A second pulse. A rhythm. The inescapable, tormenting sucking-

Stefan howled around the gag when he came. But it wasn't enough. He needed to grind against the mouth that held him. He needed to clench around something inside. So he came, bit down on the rubber in his teeth, and felt metal bite his skin as he shuddered, but his skin burned and itched. Wanted more. Wanted

The mouth disappeared.

His dick throbbed, wet and cold.

The double bass and cello were rumbling again. The viola had gone quiet. He could hear nothing but the music and his own heart raging in his ears. His limbs were shaking. He felt empty and hollow and excepted to be used. Expected at any second to feel a cock pressing to his cunt and piercing him through.

But nothing happened. The double bass rolled like thunder and broke over his skin. The cello hummed again, soft and quiet now. They harmonised and broke apart again, only to come back together. The sweat cooled on Stefan's skin, and he whimpered around rubber as his dick pulsed and his heart thrummed urgently in his chest.

That couldn't be it. That couldn't be

The viola chirped. Stefan shivered as it began to repeat itself. The low notes were coaxed away from the strings; the middle were thrown, demanding and impetuous. It rose. Stefan's heart rose with it. Higher, towards the end, higher-

The note rang out again.

And hot wetness began to rub at Stefan's crotch and cock. Heavy. A hand, sheathed in a gel glove. Massaging. Almost thrusting. The pressure was intense and pounding. His dick was jerked and rubbed in a hard grip. The bench was rocking under him. His heart was exploding. His lungs ached. The braces tore at his skin. He was being fucked on the heel of a palm. Like a doll on display. Like an extra in a film. Meaningless. Worthless. Just a dick on a stranger's hand. Just-

The second climax was a crackling of nerves, like radio static in the veins. It stuttered and battered at him, his limbs twitching uselessly in the metal braces. And he cried. It ached. It was too little. He needed it to hurt. Needed his teased cunt to be used. Needed teeth and bruises. Needed to be fucked, really fucked, not this-this teasing, this masturbation, this vanilla use...

The viola had gone. The double bass was marching a campaign of heavy notes in jackboots. Stefan lay limp in the restraints and sobbed as they stamped on his skin. There was no sound. No touch. He could feel himself, wet and leaking with untapped arousal. He needed more than this. He needed out. He needed out.