His weight lifted off me. The ropes were gone from my ankles, my wrists freed. I lay there, sticky and spent, feeling his seed start a slow, warm trickle out of me.
“On your knees,” Ansh said, his voice already thick with renewed command. He stood by the bed, his lund half-hard and glistening with the remnants of his last release. “Clean it. Now.”
I didn’t hesitate. I pushed myself up, my body aching in a hundred delicious ways, and shuffled forward on the mattress. I took him in my mouth, my tongue flattening against the underside of his shaft. The taste was intense, salty and musky, a mix of his cum and my own slick. I licked him clean, base to tip, savoring the filthy cocktail of our fluids.
“That’s it,” he growled, his hand fisting in my hair. “Suck my lund clean, you behenchod. Taste what we made.”
I took him deeper, hollowing my cheeks, my mouth working over his sensitive head. He hardened fully against my tongue, thick and demanding. He let me suck him for a minute, his hips giving shallow thrusts, before he pulled himself from my lips with a wet pop.
“Enough. Get the toy.”
My stomach flipped. I reached over to the nightstand where the cold, smooth glass dildo lay. The weight of it was familiar, ominous.
“On your back. Legs up,” he ordered.
I obeyed, lying back, pulling my knees to my chest, exposing myself completely. He took the toy from me, slicking it with a squirt of lube from the bottle on the floor. The cold, rounded tip pressed against my overused entrance.
“You’re going to fuck yourself to the edge again,” he said, his eyes locked on mine. “And you’re going to hold it. You’re going to look me in the eye and beg to come while you’re stuffed full of glass. And I’m going to say no.”
He pushed it in. The stretch was immediate, the cold a shocking contrast to the heat of my body. He didn’t give it to me; he made me take it, forcing my hand to wrap around the base and work it in and out. The pressure on my prostate was merciless.
“Fuck,” I moaned, my hips rising to meet the thrusts. The pleasure built fast, a tight coil in my gut. “Ansh…”
“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice low. He knelt on the bed, watching, his own lund in his fist, stroking slowly. “Tell me what you feel.”
“I feel… your toy… it’s so deep… it’s hitting right there… ahh!” A particularly deep thrust made my vision blur.
“You feel my potential bachha swimming inside you from the last load?” he asked, his tone conversational, cruel. “You feel it mixing with your own maal? Your chut is a fucking soup of us, Rohit.”
The degradation, the graphic truth of it, sent a fresh jolt of arousal through me. I fucked myself faster, the glass sliding in and out with slick, obscene sounds. The edge was rushing toward me, a white-hot cliff.
“I’m close… so close… please…”
“Please what?” He leaned forward, his face inches from mine.
“Please, let me come! I need to shoot my maal, I need it so bad, please, Ansh!”
His hand shot out and squeezed the base of my cock, hard. The orgasm slammed into a wall, receding into a throbbing, agonizing ache. I cried out, tears springing to my eyes.
“No,” he said simply. “Not yet.”
He pulled the toy from me, leaving me empty and trembling. He grabbed another length of rope from the bag. “Hands up. Wrists together.”
I held them up, and he tied them tightly to the wrought-iron headboard. The bite of the rope was secure, final. I was bound again, stretched out, completely vulnerable.
He moved off the bed. I heard him rummage in the bag again. When he returned, he held a short, multi-tailed flogger. The leather straps looked soft, but I knew better.
“On your side. Ass out,” he said, his voice dropping into a darker register.
I rolled onto my side, curling my legs up, presenting my already sore, reddened ass to him. The air felt cool on the heated skin.
The first strike was a surprise. Not a slap, but a swish-thud as the leather tails landed across both cheeks. The sensation was a diffuse sting that bloomed into a deep, radiating heat.
“Ah!”
“Count them,” he ordered.
Swish-thud.
“Two!” I gasped. The sting was sharper this time, lighting up my nerves.
Swish-thud.
“Three!” The pain was merging with the arousal, each strike stoking the fire in my gut. My cock, which had softened, began to fill again.
He laid on a volley—four, five, six, seven—the strikes falling in rapid succession, painting my skin with a hot, delicious pain. I was moaning, pushing my ass back into each blow.
“You love this,” he grunted, pausing to run his hand over the heated flesh. “Your gaand is on fire, and your lund is dripping on my sheets. You’re a fucking pain slut, cousin.”
“Yes!” I sobbed. “More, please, Ansh, give me more!”
Swish-thud. Swish-thud.
“Eight! Nine! Fuck, yes!”
“Beg for my cock,” he demanded, landing another vicious strike. “Beg for it while I mark this ass as mine.”
“Please! Please fuck me! I need your lund in my chut, I need you to fill me up again, please breed your randi cousin right now!”
He dropped the flogger. I heard the tear of another condom wrapper, the slick sound of him rolling it on. His weight dipped the bed behind me. His hand, hot and rough, gripped my hip. The blunt, fat head of his cock pressed against my entrance.
“You’re going to take me deeper than that toy ever could,” he whispered, his lips against my ear. “You’re going to take every inch, and you’re going to come the second I tell you to. And then you’re going to take my seed. Another massive load, Rohit. Another fucking bachha to add to the soup. You ready?”
I was beyond words. I just nodded, frantic, pushing back against him.
He didn’t tease. He shoved forward, burying himself in one long, brutal stroke that stole my breath and filled the world.
“Ansh!” I screamed, my bound hands pulling at the headboard.
“Now,” he growled, his hips already pulling back. “Come for me. Now.”
His command, the overwhelming fullness, the lingering sting on my ass—it all detonated at once. My orgasm ripped through me with no warning, my cock jerking, spilling onto the sheets beneath me in helpless, pulsing stripes. My chut clamped down on his invading length, milking him, pulling him deeper.
He fucked me through it, his thrusts becoming savage, pounding. “Yes! Squeeze my lund, you madharchod! Milk it dry! Take my bachha!”
I felt him swell, throb, and then the hot, wet flood began. Even through the condom, the sensation was immense—a heavy, pulsing gush of liquid heat filling me up, claiming the space he’d carved out. He groaned, grinding his hips deep, pushing it all in as he emptied himself.
He stayed there, buried, his body heavy on mine, his breath hot on my neck. We were both slick with sweat, trembling.
Slowly, he pulled out. He untied my wrists, his hands gentle now. He rolled me onto my back, his eyes scanning my face. He leaned down and kissed me, a deep, slow, claiming kiss that tasted of sweat and salt.
“That’s two loads tonight,” he murmured against my lips, his hand drifting down to press against my lower stomach. “You feel it? Swimming in your pet? I’m not done. I’m going to keep going. All night. Until this chut of yours is so full of my maal it has no choice.
The door clicked shut. The silence was louder than before. My own heartbeat pounded in my ears. The ropes held me fast, my ass still stinging from the flogger, my hole still fluttering around the ghost of his last thrust. The warm trickle of his seed was a constant, maddening reminder.
Minutes stretched. An hour, maybe. Every sound from the hallway made my cock twitch. Every shadow made my breath catch. The need was a living thing, coiled in my gut, tightening with every second.
Then, the key in the lock.
He stepped inside, backlit by the hall light. In one hand, a small black bag. In the other, something that gleamed under the faint light—a smooth, bulbous shape of dark silicone, with a narrow base and a tail-like remote.
He dropped the bag and walked to the bed, his eyes roaming over my bound form. He didn’t speak. He just leaned down and kissed me.
It wasn’t the brutal claiming from before. His lips were soft, almost questioning, brushing against mine. A gentle press. Then again, a little firmer. My lips parted on a sigh, and he took the invitation, his tongue sliding in to meet mine in a slow, deep swirl. The tenderness was a shock. I melted into it, a soft moan vibrating in my throat. He kissed me like he had all the time in the world, like he was savoring the very taste of my surrender. His hand came up to cradle my jaw, his thumb stroking my cheek.
The kiss deepened, turning hungry. The tenderness burned into urgency. His tongue fucked my mouth, his breath came faster, and I kissed him back with everything I had, my bound hands straining toward him.
He broke away, both of us gasping. His forehead rested against mine.
“Missed me?” he breathed, his voice rough.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Fuck, yes.”
He held up the silicone toy. It was a plug, but thicker, with a pronounced curve. “This is going inside you. And it’s going to stay there. It vibrates. I have the remote.” He kissed me again, a quick, hard press. “I’m going to turn it on when I feel like it. I’m going to keep you right on the fucking edge, Rohit. All night. Your chut is going to be buzzing and full and begging for my lund even while I sleep.”
The thought made me dizzy. “Please.”
“Please what?” He traced the plug’s tip around my wet, stretched entrance.
“Please… put it in. I want it. I want to feel it.”
He coated the toy with a thick stream of lube, the cold gel making me shiver. The bulbous head pressed against me. It was bigger than it looked. He pushed slowly, relentlessly, stretching me open around its widest part. I groaned, my back arching, taking it in. It seated deep, the base resting snugly against my hole, the curved tip undoubtedly pressing right against my prostate.
“Feel that?” he murmured, his lips at my ear. “That’s my placeholder. That’s my promise. Your insides belong to me, even when I’m not fucking them.”
He picked up the small remote, pressed a button.
A low, deep hum started inside me. It wasn’t frantic. It was a steady, throbbing pulse, right on that sensitive spot. Pleasure, immediate and insistent, radiated outwards. My cock jumped, leaking onto my stomach.
“Oh god…”
“That’s just the first setting,” he said, his voice dark with amusement. He kissed my neck, licking a stripe up to my earlobe. “Imagine that buzzing while you try to sleep. Imagine it buzzing while you make breakfast. You’re my little vibrating randi now.”
The degradation, mixed with the relentless pleasure, made my head swim. “Yours,” I gasped.
“Damn right.” He untied my wrists, the ropes falling away. He pulled me up, so I was kneeling on the bed facing him. He took my face in both hands. “Now, kiss me like you mean it. Kiss me like the bred behenchod you are.”
I crashed my lips to his. This kiss was all fire and desperation. I sucked on his tongue, bit his lower lip, poured every ounce of my frustration and need into it. He growled into my mouth, his hands sliding down to grip my ass, pulling me closer, grinding the base of the plug against me. The vibration sent fresh shocks through my system.
“I’m gonna come just from this,” I panted against his mouth. “From the plug and your tongue… fuck, Ansh…”
“You will not,” he ordered, pulling back. He picked up the remote again and turned the vibration off. The sudden absence was a physical ache. I whimpered. “You come when I’m fucking a fresh load into you. Not a second before.” He tapped the remote against my lips. “I control this. I control you. Your chut, your lund, your fucking orgasms. Mine.”
He pushed me down onto my back again. He straddled my hips, his heavy lund brushing against my stomach. He reached down and wrapped his hand around my cock, stroking me slowly, maddeningly.
“You feel how empty your pet is?” he asked, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Even with that plug? It’s waiting. It’s a hungry, little womb, Rohit. It’s begging for my bachha. One of these times… one of these massive loads… it’s gonna stick. You know that, right? My seed’s gonna find purchase, and your lean body’s gonna swell with my child. Our fucking cousin-kid. You think about that? When you’re buzzing and leaking and desperate?”
The graphic picture he painted, the forbidden, biological danger of it, made my blood roar. “Yes… I think about it… I want it…”
“You’re sick,” he said, but his eyes were blazing with pride. “You’re a perfect, filthy, breeding chudail.” He leaned down, his mouth hovering over mine. “Beg me for another load. Beg me to try and put a bachha in you right now.”
“Please, Ansh,” I moaned, my hips bucking into his fist. “Fuck me raw again. Pump another massive load into my chut. Try and get me pregnant, please, I want to feel your maal swimming so deep it changes me, I want your bachha taking root in my pet, breed me, please, you madharchod, just breed your randi cousin!”
His control snapped. He shoved my legs up, his hand fumbling with the plug, pulling it from me with a wet, sucking sound. He positioned himself, the fat, weeping head of his lund pushing against my sore, open hole.
“This one’s going deep,” he grunted. “You’re gonna taste it in your throat.”
He slammed in.
The fullness was a revelation, a brutal, beautiful invasion. He set a punishing rhythm immediately, each thrust jolting my body up the bed. He was right—it felt deeper, like he was reaching a place untouched, a sacred, secret space meant for creation.
“This is where my son lives!” he roared, pistoning into me. “Right here! In this fucking chut!”
I was so close, the coil wound impossibly tight. “Ansh! I’m gonna… I’m gonna…”
“Come! Now! Let go! Milk my lund for my bachha!”
His command unleashed me. My orgasm tore through me, violent and raw, my cock spurting hot stripes of maal between our sweating bodies. My channel clamped down on him, spasming, pulling him deeper, milking him.
He shouted, a raw, animal sound. I felt him swell, pulse, and then the hot flood erupted.
It was massive. A thick, gluey torrent of cum, gushing deep into my core in heavy, pulsing waves. It felt endless, a hot lake filling me, spilling into every crevice. He ground his hips, pushing it deeper, groaning as he emptied what felt like a week’s worth of seed into my waiting hole.
“Fuck… yes… take it all… let it swim…”
He collapsed on top of me, his weight pinning me, his softening cock still lodged inside, plugging me full. His lips found mine in a slow, exhausted, possessive kiss. I could taste his victory.
He broke the kiss, panting. His hand drifted down, pressing firmly on my lower stomach.
“Feel that?” he whispered, his eyes gleaming in the dark. “That warmth? That’s a lake of my maal in there. A fucking breeding pool.” He reached for the silicone plug, now slick with lube and his fresh cum. He guided it back to my overfilled entrance. “And now, we’re not letting a single drop out.”
He pushed the plug back in, sealing his seed inside me. The stretch was intense, my hole protesting around the intrusion after being so thoroughly fucked. It seated deep, locking his load in place.
He picked up the remote, his thumb hovering over the button. He looked at me, a wicked smile playing on his lips.
“Comfortable?” he asked, his voice a low purr.
