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Beautiful Boy - Dark Fantasy  

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Katharine Twete
(@katharine123)
Estimable Member
Joined: 5 months ago
Posts: 15
17/10/2020 6:02 pm  

All participants are over the age of 18. Please note, I do not condone irresponsible barebacking.

*****

I couldn't quite believe I wanted to do this. It was something that had been growing in the back of my mind for a while, but I'd never have dreamed of bringing it up with him. I was happy with him, deliriously so. And I didn't want him to ever think he wasn't enough.

But he knows me. Better than anyone ever had. And after three years together, he'd learned me inside and out. He could read my expressions. I couldn't lie to him; he'd know the second I tried.

So he knows when I'm thinking about something, wondering, even curious. He knows when I want something but don't want to tell him.

And he knows how to get it out of me.

He's devious, my Master. He won't just ask me and give me the opportunity to lie or try to tell him it's nothing. He won't let me dodge it. He breaks me down until I have no mental capacity to deceive him. Not that I like deceiving him. But I'm always worried about hurting him or doing something wrong, so I second guess myself too much. This way, he doesn't let me do that.

This time, he bound me to the cross in our playroom. Sometimes it's the bench. Sometimes, it's the table. Occasionally, it's just the bed in our bedroom.

I hung there and the anticipation stretched my nerves taut. He knows how that works with me too. He'll get me up onto the cross and leave me there, while he putters around the rest of the room. By the time we start, my cock is so hard, balls so tight, I can't stand it.

That is, of course, if he takes the cage off. Sometimes, he likes to leave it on. And the arousal and anticipation make my cock fill the cage and frustrate me even more.

He did that this time, too. I was going to have permanent lines in my dick from the cage bars, but I knew he'd just like that. My balls ached with the stretch as the cage pulled on them. I was already ridiculously aroused and he hadn't even touched me yet.

He finally took the cage off and my cock hardened instantly, precum leaking from the slit and dripping onto the floor. He ran a finger through it, smearing it over the head, then leaving me again.

I had to have been on there for hours. In reality, I knew it wasn't, it couldn't be. But it certainly felt like it. He teased me, edged me, over and over and over again. He flogged my belly and thighs. Took the crop and strap to my cock and balls until they were on fire and I was desperate to come.

And only when I could do nothing but obey him, only when my mind was focused on nothing but him, was I able to tell him.

I wanted to be humiliated. Fucked over and over by anyone and everyone he gave me to. Used and ignored. Made into his whore and reduced to nothing but my holes.

The admission itself was humiliating. He'd taken to calling me his slut at times during our scenes. He liked to refer to my ass on occasion as my boy pussy or my boy cunt. He'd gotten me to the point where I come more often from him fucking me than my dick.

He played with my dick a lot, sure. But it was to tease me, edge me, and deny me. My orgasms belonged to him and, thus, so did my cock. And he'd decided not long after we got together, that it was to be locked up and not let out except at his pleasure.

I haven't touched it since. And I love it. He cleans it. He decides if I'm to feel pleasure from it.

In fact, my last penile orgasm was nearly six months ago. I haven't orgasmed at all in three weeks. My balls were so full and swollen, I sometimes had trouble walking. He hasn't even been willing to drain me.

Once I'd admitted what I'd fantasized about, he'd turned me around, given me the pain needed to make me fly and get out of my head completely. Then he'd fucked me within an inch of my life, while refusing to let me orgasm. Again.

It wasn't until later, he explained why.

He'd been seriously turned on by my admission. He was possessive of me, there was no doubt about it and I loved that about him. I loved that he didn't want to share me as a rule.

I also loved that he was willing to try things with me. If I wanted something, he'd give it a go. He might not like some of it, but he'd try it.

I'd never expected him to want to try this. It went completely against his possessiveness. Or so I thought.

I should have known he'd still make it work the way he wanted it.

But he wasn't going to make it easy on me, either. And I wouldn't have expected him to. He would take his time, figure out how best to approach it.

And for holding back on him, my punishment for not telling him, was I was to be denied the entire time. Until after he worked this out and set it up, I'd be teased, edged, fucked, but not allowed release or relief in any way. No orgasms. No milking my prostate. Nothing.

I knew the next few weeks were going to be torture.

* * *

I was right. It took him four to arrange things the way he wanted it. By the time I was approaching the evening we were to do this, my balls were so full, I wanted to scream. I was pretty sure they really were swollen-whether that was physiologically possible or not, I didn't care.

He'd edged me over and over again nightly, fucked me often, and had tasks for me during the day at work that kept me perpetually horny. Usually I thought about him some during the day, had tasks to do now and again at work, yes. But not nearly like this. He did everything he could think of to make sure I was miserably aroused all the time. My mind was always on sex. My cage was perpetually tight, my cock almost always trying to harden. It'd completely forgotten how to behave while locked up, had lost what it'd gotten used to when I first started wearing a cage. Now, it filled over and over, pushing its limits until I was aroused and in pain almost constantly.

The scene he'd planned was to take place on Saturday night. I was spending all of Friday evening and Saturday leading up to it in as deep a submission as I could get. I was naked, wearing a new cage-this one heavier and tighter than the regular one I use. It had a urethral plug with a ball that screwed in, keeping me from doing anything without permission. It even had a tiny lock that threaded through small holes, so I couldn't unscrew it myself if I wanted to. I had to ask to go to the bathroom. If he let me-and sometimes he made me wait-he went with me and I had to pee in front of him. It was humiliating... and pushed me even deeper.

He used one of the heavy metal egg-shaped plugs we had, linked to and locked with the cage. Not to stretch me; he said wanted me as tight as he could get me for this experience. I was going to feel this for days. Instead, it was meant to rest on my prostate and tease me. It succeeded.

I spent the day on my knees by him, focused only on him. He touched me almost constantly, petting my hair or teasing me. I spent a good deal of time with his cock in my mouth, though he refused to fuck me that day. He even fed me my meals while I was on my knees.

At six, he took me into the bathroom, removed everything but my collar-which never came off-and put me in the shower. I was shaved from the neck down, scrubbed thoroughly, and cleaned out twice. Once dry, he made me pee-again in front of him-then took me back into the bedroom and lay me on the bed.

He put the cage back first. Only it wasn't the same as before. This one was also stainless steel, but on the inside, it had dull spikes. It also included a urethral tube, capped at the end, and a spot for the PA piercing to stick through the end. Even if I'd been given permission, I would not be able to come. I'd get no orgasm from tonight. It was as I'd wanted: I would be used but take no pleasure.

My cock wanted to harden immediately at the thought. As soon as it tried, the spikes dug in, sending pain straight through me. I gasped and struggled to calm down.

Once the ring and cage were in place, he picked up another steel piece. It was one of our favorites: a thick, wide cuff for my balls. It had two small loops on either side Master could hang weights on and two spots to allow it to be locked in place. My stretched balls would tighten as I got fucked and they'd hurt like hell by the time we were done.

He added a series of padlocks to the entire thing. One along the top of the cage, holding the cage to the ring, two more, locking the ball cuff on, one through the PA and another through the tip, holding the cap in.

The entirety of my cock and balls was covered in steel, enough so that I wouldn't feel a thing on them. For some reason, that excited me even more, that I would not be feeling pleasure from this; I was solely to be used.

When I was on my feet, the cage pulled hard on my genitals. The locks clicked against the metal, giving an audible addition to the feel of my contained nuts. As he led me out of the bedroom and down the stairs, walking was exceedingly difficult. I could only imagine, even tied down, how much it was going to swing, shake... stimulate me. Yet again, without giving me pleasure.

He led me back into the big, open room that was our combination living/dining room. I had no idea who did it or how, but our spanking bench had been brought down from the playroom and set in the middle of the space. Master led me to it, where I settled into my presentation position, legs braced apart, hands behind my back, eyes lowered.

I stood in front of it, ever aware of my Master moving around behind me.

He stepped up against my back. "I love you. While you will be gagged, you will still have the ball. If you wish to stop at any time, drop it and I will."

I nodded.

"We do this as much for you as me. In the end, you are what matters to me. I am showing you off, my most prized possession, the thing that matters most to me. Though there will be many, those who will be here tonight are closest to us, to me, and I allow them here only because I am willing to allow them to touch the most important thing in my life."

Again, I nodded and leaned back into him. I looked up over my shoulder and met his dark eyes. It took a moment, the emotion overwhelming me but finally, I gathered the ability to speak. "I love you too. I want to do this, Master. Thank you. Thank you so much."

He caught my lips in a long, thorough kiss, then turned me around and pushed on my shoulder. I dropped to my knees as he pulled his already-hard cock out of his jeans. "Suck me, boy."

I scrambled to obey, nearly throwing myself onto his dick. I'd gotten good at taking him, all of him, over the years. I'd learned every spot, every lick that made him moan and thrust and I used them now. In no time, he was grunting and he pulled out, slapping my face with his cock.

My own jumped in its steel prison.

He shoved it back in, all they way into my throat with no preamble. I gagged a little, but he ignored it, pulling out and thrusting back in immediately, giving me no time to recover. He didn't play, fucking my mouth and throat with abandon, taking his pleasure and chasing his orgasm. Just before he came, he pulled out, stroking his cock fast, his other hand fisting in my hair. "Open boy," he growled and I did so, holding it under his hand.

"Do not swallow," he said and came with a grunt, coating my tongue and lips with his cum. When he finished, he smeared it over my lips, pushing the last bit into my mouth. "Hold it on your tongue for now. I want nothing but my taste in your mouth."

I nodded, unable to reply verbally. He slapped my face lightly and went over to the coffee table. I kept my gaze on the floor where he'd been but I could see he picked up a few things and brought them back, setting them on the bench behind me. He took the first thing and held it in front of me: a cock gag. I opened my mouth without being told and he pushed it between my teeth. I smeared his cum over it, settling it against my tongue. Not thick enough to cause my jaw to strain, but enough to tease me. I'd feel a cock, taste my Master, but get nothing more from it.

"No sound tonight, boy. No groans, nothing. You don't get to protest. You're a hole to be used, and holes don't make noise."

I nodded silently in reply, my dick swelling into the spikes again.

Next, he picked up a long strip of black cloth. The blindfold had pads over the eyes so I would see nothing behind it. I looked up at him, taking in his expression-full Dom, his curly black hair and beard making him look just a little evil-and with my eyes fixed to his face, he put the cloth in place. The last image behind my eyes was of him.

Blinded and gagged, he helped me stand and guided me to the bench, helping get my legs in place. He'd added more padding to the supports and I wondered at it, but guessed it was partially because I'd be on there so long. Once secured, he settled my chest against the main part, my piercings digging in just a little as he ran a strap over my back, securing me there too.

Then he folded my arms behind me and bound those in place with rope. I couldn't move very much at all. My ass stuck out, hole exposed and my steel-encased cock and balls hung below them, heavy and uncomfortable.

Master's touch disappeared briefly, then I felt something almost ticklish on my ass. First on the left cheek, then on the right. I couldn't quite follow what was going on, but he made sure I knew. "Now everyone will know you're nothing but a slave, cock slut, and cum dump," he murmured in my ear and I realized he'd written those things on my ass.

My cock jumped again. The whole thing was turning me on so much. I'd never have thought humiliation my thing, but the lower I felt, the harder I got.

He pushed the ball into one hand and I gripped it tightly. I doubted I'd want this to stop. I'd asked for this, wanted to be humiliated, used, and I didn't want to be the one to back out. But I'd learned the hard way over the years that it was a good thing to use my safeword when necessary, that refusing only caused problems, so I took the ball and nodded my promise when he reminded me to use it if I needed to.

Next, he stood above my head, lifting it carefully and setting something under my face. When he laid my head back down, I inhaled and was filled with my Master's scent. I was laying on his T-shirt, probably the one he'd worn to work out in that morning. The smell of sweat and Master was all I could breathe.

A moment later, I felt a slicked-up finger at my hole. "I'm not going to stretch you, slut. You love being wrecked too much, your sloppy ass gaping and used." He leaned over and murmured into my ear. "But I won't have you torn, either. Shake the ball if it's too much, okay?" I nodded and he moved away, spreading more lube around my hole, pushing it inside, and working it around.

I thought I was ready, but apparently not. I heard the click of a cap again, then Master's hand on my balls. I didn't understand at first what was happening, until he was done and pulled his hand away. Then my balls heated up and I realized he'd put something on them-probably Icy Hot-to make me even more aware of them. The pain was intense, my cock swelling until the spikes felt like huge claws digging into my soft flesh and all of it pulling down, making my entire groin burn. Still, he wasn't done. The final insult was the weights. He hung one on each side of the cuff until my balls felt like they were going to pull off of my body.

It took everything I had to keep my silence and keep still. Hot tears spilled down my face, soaking the blindfold. I bit hard at the gag and gripped the ball tight in my hand. Because in all of this, I needed. Six weeks since I'd had an orgasm. Six week since my balls had felt any sort of relief. I was so aroused, so desperately horny, and always in the forefront of my mind, I knew it would go nowhere.

Finally, he left me alone.

All of this: the binding, the blindfold, the gag, the smell, the cage, and the intense pain between my legs had me already sinking into a half-aware state, before anyone touched me. I felt my Master, moving around me, but very little registered yet. The room was more or less silent for the moment, except for Master's movements. I heard him open the refrigerator, the sounds of dishes being set on the counter, a few other minor things. He turned on the stereo low and the first few seconds of Enigma's Principles of Lust played. Our dungeon playlist.

I was lost in the music, sinking further into my mindspace when the doorbell rang. I tensed, realizing this was it. I was bound, exposed, marked up, displayed as little more than a piece of furniture.

My cock, having softened during the quiet time, tried to harden again. Pain slid through it, making it worse, making it want to harden even more. It filled the cage, spikes digging in hard and, with nowhere to go, pulled again on my bound balls, intensifying the pain. I groaned softly, thankful it was muffled behind the gag.

I couldn't hear who was at the door. I heard it close, heard footsteps, then felt something at my ear. Cotton. Master pushed it into my ears and while it didn't block everything, it muffled enough sound that I couldn't make anything out. One more way to separate me from people.

I thought I heard the doorbell again, but I couldn't be sure. As I lay there, exposed, lubed, slutty, and ignored, I realized it didn't matter. It wasn't for me to hear or worry. I was nothing that night, nothing but a receptacle for cock and cum. Nothing but an object to be used. I wasn't even a boy that night, just a thing. I sank deeper.

The first cock surprised me. I hadn't been expecting it. I'd been floating a little, aware but not of muffled sounds and people talking and moving around me. I had no idea how much time had passed.

The dick wasn't Master's, it wasn't big enough to be. But it pushed through my sphincter with no prep except the existing lube, no stretching, and the burn was awesome. That too was the point. Objects didn't need to be prepared. Holes were supposed to be tight.

Now I realized why Master hadn't been in my ass in almost a week. I heard a grunt behind me and what I thought was, "fuck that's tight." Not too tight, I'd guessed because he started thrusting into me. Even though he was smaller than my Master, it took a little while for me to get used to him. The burn stayed with me then he hit my prostate.

And it started to feel good.

I bit hard on the cock gag to focus and hold in sounds. Furniture didn't make noise. Cum dumps didn't react. Objects were silent.

It was then I realized he, whoever was fucking me, hadn't put his hands on me. The only thing that touched me was his cock. I felt pressure and fabric against my ass when he bottomed out-he was apparently fully dressed except for his cock-and something hit my stretched balls, making them swing and stimulate me. But nothing else. No hands, no other touch. I was an object, not worthy of that.

I sank a little further into my head.

The cock inside me twitched and I knew I was taking my first load of the night. I wondered how many I would take before it was over, but I didn't have much time to think. I felt the lightest of something on my ass, then he was gone. Immediately following the first cock withdrawing, my ass was filled with another. Slightly thicker than the last, he fucked me much harder than the other man did. He also hit my prostate more and my cock tried to harden again, more, pulling harder on my balls, my whole packing swinging hard.

He grunted more than the first one, but it didn't take him as long to come. He left, that light touch to my ass came again, and still another dick replaced the last. By this time, their way was eased quite a bit by the spunk already filling my hole. Thicker even than the last, he pushed roughly into me, not giving me a chance to get used to him. He fucked me hard, pounding into my prostate and it took everything I had to keep quiet.


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