Sex in C Major
Chapter 74

But when he wrenched at the metal, it merely held on tighter. When he strained against the straps, there was no word. He pulled and twisted until he bruised, but there was no reply. No fingers shoved inside him to hold him down. No toys and belt to dissolve his resistance.

And the viola trilled again.

He cried. Sobbed with desperate frustration as the notes blurred and inched higher. As the final string waited for its moment in the sun-and got it, ringing out alone.

Vibrator. He screamed and wrenched, but it was clasped around his dick away. A ring, buzzing so loud he could feel it shuddering right up to his teeth. He strained against the leather. Friction. Touch. Something, God, something-anything but this torment. But it never came. The vibrator held his dick between its lips and shuddered until he came again with a broken cry.

Everything ached. His dick hurt, swollen and sore. Goosebumps littered his limbs. His crotch felt hot and abused, smeared with his desperation. He throbbed-arse, cunt, cock, everything-with an unbearable emptiness. He needed to be fucked. Needed a weight on him so intense he couldn't move. Needed filthy words in his ear. Teeth in his neck and nipples. To be held down by the arms and pounded until he screamed. Cried. Until he couldn't move, even when his owner pulled out and left him there like a used, unwanted toy...

The double bass was picking up. The viola was joining in.

He cried for it to stop, but kept his hands wide open. He knew it now. Knew the experiment. Knew this would go on and on and on, over and over and over, until-until-

The high note rang out, and Stefan howled as finally-finally-he was breached. A mouth was sucking on his cock again. Hard. Teeth gripping now. A warning edge of pain. And fingers were twisting inside of him. Fucking. Brutal, punching to the root then being ripped free. Dry and painful. He clenched. Tried to hold on. But his legs were too wide, and they slipped free, only to shove back through his own resistance. And all the while, that sucking, that power, that dizzying, unbearable

The fingers stilled as he came. And the pleasure-God, the pleasure. The pressure. His cunt hugged them greedily, pulled them ever deeper. He was set alight. His skin was wet. But he was empty again, when they pulled free, and the viola had gone. His dick was cold again. His cunt was leaking now. Pulled open and left to dry. He clenched to keep it in, but more slipped free. The sensation made him shudder. Too little, too thin, to be anything but himself. And he needed the other. Needed his owner to spill there. Or anyone. God, anyone. Just something, someone, please...

The viola sang.

The high note pealed.

And Stefan came.

Without a finger on him. Without a mouth touching him. Alone and imprisoned in his cage of steel and straps-he came.

Came shuddering and crying. Came so hard he felt the ejaculation. Came thrashing until he bled.

Came empty. He was still so empty.

The music stopped.

The air seemed to rush back into the room. Someone was packing something away. A hand rubbed over his crotch, smearing evidence of his torment into his skin. The straps came away. The metal teeth relaxed, and were plucked free from his bloody, bruised skin.

Then he was torn from the bench.

Hauled up by the neck.

Still gagged and blinded, he fumbled for purchase. His feet left the floor. For a split second, he couldn't breathe. A door crashed. Cold air. He was dropped, falling to his knees into grass and snow and mud. Shoved forwards. A great weight bore down on his back. Stefan scrabbled. Icy mud squished through his fingers. Grass blades prickled at his face. Hot breath washed over his neck.

He sobbed in relief when he felt the head of his master's cock, huge and hot, push against him. The entry was slick and smooth, and then he was being fucked. Fast, short strokes. Hard. Being ground into the mud by his owner's weight. Filth was streaking, cold and thick, against his chest and stomach. He sagged. Limp. Gasping around the gag. An arm was laid against the back of his neck. Paralysing. Pinning. He could do nothing but accept it. Relax. Allow himself to be used. Feel the icy kiss of snow against his cock. Cooling him. Soothing the burning from the experiment.

Cold.

It was cold. Stefan whimpered, and clenched around his master's cock as it buried itself to the root. Squeezed. Felt the groan deep in his master's chest, pressed against Stefan's back. A curse exploded over his ear in a rush of hot air. The slippery rush of cum burned, and then a hand was in his back and he was shoved deeper into the mud, sinking as his master pulled out and cum began to trickle down his thighs.