Sex in C Major
Chapter 76

Stefan dropped his eyes to the tiles when the voices came into the kitchen.

"Very nice."

The stranger's voice was deep and hoarse. A smoker. Raspy.

"Broken in yet?"

"Still a wriggler. Likes to cry."

"I like 'em reluctant. Prettier when they give in."

His master coughed an agreement, and Stefan felt his face burning hot.

"Gag it and bag it."

Stefan gasped when a cotton bag was roughly shoved over his head. He was pushed to the tiles, and someone straddled his chest. His hands were tied with rough rope, and then brought to touch a hard dick through soft cotton.

"Jerk it."

Stefan tried to pull his hands away. They were pushed back.

"I said, jerk it."

"Pl-please "

"You can jack it, or I can fuck your face with it."

He curled his fingers around the cock, and began to massage its length through the cotton. There was a damp spot already. The length was intimidating, the girth alarming. The stranger was far bigger than his master. Was he-oh God, if he took Stefan anally then he'd tear. There was no way, no way-

Fingers curled around his own hand. He was made to squeeze that immense dick harder, and pump it faster. The stranger began to thrust into his hand and swear. Wanting it to be over, wanting to see and know what was going to happen to him, and get a look at the cock that felt so obscene in his hand, Stefan began to massage the very root and the soft weight of the stranger's balls.

The thrusting stuttered. The man on top of him groaned.

And then the weight was gone.

Stefan took the opportunity, twisting himself over and reaching up for the bag, only to be struck on the arm by something heavy. A burst of pain felled him with a cry, and then a hand clamped down around his eyes. By the grip, his master's.

But the grip on his jaw, forcing his teeth apart, was not.

He struggled. He fought to close his jaw. Sir had said the stranger liked them reluctant. And Stefan was. He couldn't take that cock in his mouth. He couldn't. He'd choke. He'd drown on it. He couldn't-

His fingers began to curl together-

And then released.

As the cotton was shoved into his mouth, wet and bitter with the stain of semen, gagging him with the starchy fabric and the stench of sex with a stranger, Stefan splayed his fingers wide.

The bag was pulled down.

He was dragged to his feet by the arms. A man on each side. He kicked and cried, but kept his fingers opened wide.

Cold air.

Outside.

Lifted.

Cold metal under his feet. A leather seat. Straps. Tying him down until he could barely move.

A van door slammed, and an engine rumbled under his feet.

And then they were moving, and all Stefan could think of was the immense bulk of that cock in his hands, and how much it was going to hurt. How much he was going to feel.

He kept his fingers straight.

It was an age before the van stopped.

When it did, it was another age before Stefan heard voices and the doors opened.

The straps came away. He was dragged up by the arms again. The floor under his feet was a garage, by the damp feel. Then concrete steps, and tiles. Then carpet. He was taken through the house blind and disoriented, and finally thrown down onto a wooden floor. He was twisted, his hands freed and then re-tied to the front with the same rough rope. Then he was dropped. The bag was wrenched off. And suddenly gagging on the stale, cum-stained cotton in his mouth, Stefan pushed himself up on shaking arms, and pulled it free.

"Ah-ah."

His hair was pulled, and he was dragged to his knees. He whimpered at the pain that lanced through his scalp, and tried to twist his face away from the cock head that brushed his lips. The stranger laughed and dropped him again.

"Let's get it hung on the wall, then, and see what kind of a Christmas present this is."

Stefan's eyes flew open. Hung? He was going to be hanged?

"No! No, no, no!"

He screamed and thrashed as he was lifted, desperate to see. If he meant-oh God, if he meant-

His hands were lifted. The rope caught on a hook, and Stefan's weight was released. He slammed against the wall, hanging by the wrists, and gulped for breath, scraping his feet against the wall.

Wrists.

Wrists.

Not-not-

A hand caught his jaw. A mouth crushed his own. A hot tongue pushed its way past his teeth, and he gagged. He kicked out, but the body was already pressed to his naked front. Pressing down. His arms strained, and he submitted with a pained cry. The kiss stole his air, then broke with a wet sound, and he cringed as that invading tongue licked a thick stripe from his jaw to his forehead.