The door opened. I jerked against the ropes, my heart hammering. Ansh stood there, but he wasn’t alone. A bag was slung over his shoulder. And he was wearing something strange around his waist—a black leather harness, and strapped to it, a thick, veined silicone dildo, dark and menacing, nearly as large as his own lund.
“Miss me?” he asked, his voice casual as he dropped the bag and locked the door behind him.
My mouth went dry. “What… what is that?”
He walked to the bed, his hand stroking the fake cock. “This? This is for when I want to fuck your chut for hours without getting soft. This is for when I want to remind you that any part of me can own you.” He leaned over, his breath hot on my face. His kiss was hard, demanding, his tongue shoving past my lips before I could react. I moaned into his mouth, the taste of him, of outside air and mint, flooding my senses. He kissed me like he was starving, and I kissed him back just as desperately, my bound hands straining toward him.
He broke away, a string of saliva connecting our lips. “You’re going to take this fake lund until you’re screaming. And you’re not going to come. Not once.”
He untied my wrists. “On your hands and knees. Ass up. Now.”
I scrambled to obey, my body throbbing with renewed need. The position made me feel even more exposed. He knelt behind me, his hands spreading my cheeks apart. I felt the cool, blunt tip of the dildo nudge against my sore hole.
“It’s cold,” I gasped.
“You’ll warm it up,” he said, and pushed.
It was a brutal, stretching invasion. Thick, unyielding silicone, with none of the living heat of his own flesh. It sank into me, inch by relentless inch, until the harness pressed against my buttocks. I cried out, my fingers clawing at the sheets.
“Feel that?” he grunted, already pulling back and shoving in again. “That’s me, Rohit. That’s my will fucking you. My machine.”
He set a steady, punishing rhythm. The dildo hammered into my prostate with mechanical precision. Pleasure, sharp and electric, shot up my spine with every thrust. My cock swung heavily beneath me, dripping.
“Oh god… Ansh… it’s too good…”
“It’s not for you,” he snarled, spanking my ass sharply with his open palm. The sting mixed with the deep internal stimulation. “It’s for me. This is me using your chut as my fucking fleshlight. You’re just a hole.”
The degradation, paired with the relentless pleasure, made my head spin. I was panting, drooling onto the sheets. He fucked me harder, the sound of the harness slapping against my skin filling the room.
“I’m… I’m gonna come… please…”
“No.” He stopped abruptly, leaving the dildo buried to the hilt inside me. He leaned over my back, his lips at my ear. “You feel that need? That ache in your lund? You hold it. You choke on it. Your orgasm is mine to give, and I’m not giving it.” He started moving again, slow, deep grinds that made me whimper. “You’re my denied little randi. Your only job is to take this fake cock and stay empty.”
He fucked me like that for what felt like an eternity, varying his pace, keeping me perpetually on the razor’s edge. Just when I’d start to tip over, he’d stop, or slap my ass, or whisper something filthy that yanked me back. I was a sweating, trembling mess, my whole world narrowed to that stretching fullness and the desperate, unfulfilled fire in my balls.
Then, he pulled the dildo out with a wet, hollow sound. I collapsed onto my side, gasping.
“Stay there,” he ordered, walking to the door. He unlocked it and opened it slightly. “Come in.”
A man walked in. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a confident swagger. He looked at me, naked and debauched on the bed, and a slow smile spread across his face.
My blood ran cold, then hot with a spike of shame and something else—a twisted, horrified arousal.
“This is Vikram,” Ansh said, as if introducing a business associate. He stripped off the harness and tossed it aside. He was naked now, his own lund fully hard, jutting out. He walked to Vikram and kissed him. Right in front of me. A deep, sensual kiss, their tongues tangling, Ansh’s hands gripping Vikram’s shoulders.
I felt like I’d been punched in the gut.
Ansh broke the kiss. “He’s going to watch,” he said to Vikram, nodding toward me. Then he pushed Vikram onto the edge of the bed. “And you’re going to take my lund like a good gaandu.”
Vikram grinned, lowering his trousers just enough. Ansh spat into his hand, slicked his cock, and positioned himself. He pushed into Vikram with a single, smooth thrust. Vikram threw his head back, a moan tearing from his throat.
“Fuck, yes!”
I watched, frozen. I watched Ansh’s muscular back flex as he fucked into another man. I watched his hips piston, heard the wet slap of skin on skin. I heard Vikram’s filthy praise. “Oh yeah, breed my gaand, you madharchod! Give me that big lund!”
Ansh’s eyes found mine over Vikram’s shoulder. His gaze was intense, possessive, cruel. “See this, Rohit? This is what you are. A hole. A chut. I can use any hole I want. But yours…” He grunted, pounding harder. “Yours is the one I’m going to fill with my bachha.”
The jealousy was a physical pain, but the sight of him—so powerful, so dominant, so mine yet fucking someone else—drove my own need to a fever pitch. I was achingly hard, leaking a puddle onto the sheet.
Ansh’s rhythm became erratic. “Gonna come… gonna paint this stranger’s insides…”
He shoved in deep, his body going rigid. A low, guttural roar tore from his chest. I saw the intense concentration on his face, the pleasure of release. He held himself there, pulsing, groaning.
When he pulled out, his cock glistened. Vikram’s hole gaped, a thick, gluey stream of white cum immediately seeping out, dripping down his tangein onto the floor. It was a massive load, opaque and viscous, more than seemed possible.
Ansh turned to me, breathing hard. “Get over here.”
I crawled to the edge of the bed. He pointed at Vikram’s messy ass. “Clean him. Lick my maal out of this gaandu’s chut. Every last drop.”
The command was the ultimate degradation. I hesitated, my stomach churning.
“Now, Rohit. Or I walk out that door with him and leave you tied up for the next week.”
I leaned forward. The musky, salty scent of their sex filled my nostrils. I closed my eyes and extended my tongue. I lapped at the dripping mess, gathering the thick, cold strands of Ansh’s cum from Vikram’s skin and his stretched opening. The taste was bitter, foreign, mixed with another man’s sweat. I gagged, tears springing to my eyes, but I kept going, swallowing convulsively.
“Good boy,” Ansh murmured, his hand coming to rest on my head. “My perfect, filthy cumslut. Now…” He nudged me toward Vikram’s front. Vikram’s soft cock lay against his thigh, smeared with his own spend. “Clean his lund too. Make it shine.”
I took Vikram’s soft flesh into my mouth, sucking it clean, tasting the sour tang of his precum. Humiliation burned through every cell of my body, but my own cock throbbed in response, untouched and desperate.
Ansh pulled me away. “Enough.” He looked at Vikram. “Get out.”
Vikram stood, pulling up his trousers with a smirk, and left without a word.
Ansh turned to me. I was on my knees before him, my chin wet with their combined mess. He fisted his cock, which was already hardening again.
“Open,” he said, his voice dangerously soft.
I opened my mouth. He didn’t enter it. He just stared down at me, his expression unreadable.
“You watched me fuck him,” he stated.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“You liked it.”
I swallowed. “I… I hated it.”
“You’re lying.” He stroked himself slowly. “Your lund was dripping the whole time. You’re a jealous, possessive little behenchod, but you’re also a whore who gets off on his owner using other holes.” He stepped closer, the head of his cock bumping my lips. “Now suck me clean. Get the taste of his gaand off my lund.”
I took him into my mouth, sucking furiously, wanting to erase the other man, to reclaim him with my tongue and throat. He let me work for a minute, then pulled out.
“On the bed. On your back. Legs up.”
I obeyed, spreading myself for him, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. He climbed over me, his weight familiar, his smell—his smell—filling my senses again. He positioned himself, the tip of his lund pushing against my well-used, aching entrance.
He didn’t push in. He just held it there, his eyes locked on mine.
“The next load,” he said, his voice a low promise, “is going so deep inside you, it’s going to drown any ghost of him. It’s going to be so massive, it’ll flood your pet and seal you shut. You understand?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
“Beg for it.”
“Please, Ansh… fuck me raw… give me your maal… pump another massive, gluey load into my chut… breed me… please, you madharchod, just…”
The metallic scrape of the chair legs against the floor was the first thing I heard. My eyes flew open. Ansh was dragging a simple, straight-backed wooden chair from the corner of the room to the foot of the bed. He set it down with a solid thump.
He looked at me, still bound to the headboard, and his smile was a slow, wicked curve. “Your throne, randi.”
My heart started racing again. “What are you doing?”
“Teaching you patience.” He walked to the bed and began untying my wrists. The blood rushed back into my hands with a painful tingle. “Up. On your feet.”
I stumbled off the bed, my legs shaky. He guided me to the chair, his hands firm on my shoulders, pushing me down onto the cold, hard seat. Then he produced more rope from his bag—soft, thick hemp.
“Arms behind you,” he instructed.
I complied, crossing my wrists at the small of my back. He looped the rope around them, then around the chair’s back slats, pulling it tight until my shoulders were pulled back, my chest thrust forward. He moved to my ankles, tying each one securely to the front legs of the chair. I was completely immobilized, exposed, my posture open and vulnerable.
“Perfect,” he murmured, stepping back to admire his work. He traced a finger from my collarbone down my sternum, over my stomach. “Now you can’t squirm away. Now you just have to feel.”
He walked to his bag and crouched down. I heard the rustle of items, the click of a case. He turned, holding a small, bullet-shaped vibrator in one hand, and a bottle of lube in the other.
“You remember this, don’t you?” He held up the vibrator. “It’s the one that makes you see stars. The one that turns your lund into a fucking fountain.”
He came closer, kneeling between my splayed legs. He poured a generous amount of cool lube onto his fingers, then reached between my thighs. His slick fingers found my hole, still loose and tender from the dildo, from him. He circled it, making me gasp.
“So open,” he whispered, pushing one finger in easily. “So ready. But you’re not getting my cock. Not yet.” He added a second finger, scissoring me gently. The stretch was minimal, a familiar ache. “You’re going to take this little toy, and you’re going to hold it inside you while I play with the rest of you.”
He withdrew his fingers and pressed the smooth, silicone tip of the bullet against my entrance. It was small, but the promise of it hummed in the air. He pushed. It slid in without resistance, a subtle, alien presence. He adjusted it, his eyes locked on my face.
“Is it on your spot?” he asked, his voice low.
I nodded, breath catching. The tip was nestled right against my prostate, a quiet, potential threat.
He held a small remote. His thumb hovered over the button.
Click.
A low, deep buzz vibrated through my core. It wasn’t intense, but it was right there, a constant, maddening stimulation on the most sensitive part of me inside. My cock jumped, a thick pearl of pre-cum beading at the slit.
“Oh, fuck,” I choked out.
“That’s the lowest setting,” he said, his smile cruel. “We have a long way to go.” He set the remote on my thigh, within his reach but not mine. Then he picked up the lube again. This time, he poured a line of it right over the head of my cock, letting it drip down the shaft.
The coolness made me jolt. He wrapped his hand around me, his grip firm and slick. He began to stroke, a slow, torturous up and down. The combination was devastating—the internal vibration, a steady thrum of need, and the external friction of his hand, too slow to bring me off, too good to ignore.
“Look at you,” he said, his voice a dark caress. “Tied to a chair like a fucking present. My chut buzzing full of toy, my lund leaking in my hand. You’re a masterpiece of desperation, Rohit.”
He leaned in and kissed me. It started soft, just a brush of his lips against mine. Then his tongue traced the seam of my mouth, and I opened for him with a sob. The kiss deepened, turning hungry, consuming. I lost myself in it, in the taste of him, the feel of his stubble against my chin. It was tender and brutal at the same time, an anchor in the storm of sensation he was whipping up in my body.
He pulled back, his breath warm on my wet lips. “You kiss me like you’re trying to steal my soul,” he breathed. “Like it’s the only thing keeping you from shattering.”
“It is,” I pleaded, my hips trying to thrust into his fist, but the ropes held me fast.
“Good.” His thumb swiped over my slick head, spreading the pre-cum. Then his hand left my cock. The sudden absence was a shock. He picked up the remote.
Click.
The vibration inside me intensified. The deep buzz became a sharper thrum-thrum-thrum that made my thighs tremble violently. My cock throbbed, achingly hard.
“No… please… don’t stop touching me…”
“Begging already?” He chuckled, placing his hands on my knees, spreading my legs wider even though they were tied. “We’re just getting started.” He lowered his head. His mouth, hot and wet, closed over my right nipple. He sucked hard, his tongue lashing the nub, his teeth grazing it.
I cried out, arching against the ropes. The dual assault—the vicious vibration inside and the sharp, sweet pain on my chest—was overwhelming. He bit down, not enough to break skin, but enough to make me see white.
“Ansh!”
He moved to the other nipple, giving it the same ruthless attention. His hands slid up my inner thighs, his thumbs pressing into the sensitive skin there, just shy of my balls. He was touching me everywhere except where I needed it most.
He released my nipple with a pop and looked up at me, his eyes black with lust. “You want my hand back on your lund, behenchod?”
“Yes! God, yes, please!”
“Then tell me what you are.”
“I’m your randi! I’m your fucking cumslut cousin!”
“And what’s this chut for?” He pressed a finger against my perineum, right behind my balls, where the vibrator buzzed inside me.
“For your lund! For your maal!”
“And what am I going to put in it?”
“Your seed! Your massive, gluey fucking load! Please, Ansh, I need it, I need to feel you breed me raw!”
He grinned, a feral, triumphant thing. He picked up the remote again.
Click.
The vibration jumped to its highest setting. It was a wild, frantic buzz that felt like it was shaking my bones. It wasn’t just on my prostate now; it felt like it was electrifying my entire pelvis. My body went rigid, a scream trapped in my throat. My cock pulsed violently, dribbling a constant stream of pre-cum.
“That’s it,” he coaxed, watching my face contort. “That’s the edge. Hold it. You let go, and I’ll leave this thing in you for an hour while I go make coffee.”
I whimpered, tears spilling from the corners of my eyes. The need to come was a physical pain, a tsunami held back by the sheer force of his will. My stomach muscles clenched and fluttered.
He picked up the lube bottle again. This time, he poured a pool of it into his palm. He rubbed his hands together, warming it. Then he placed both hands on my inner thighs, just below my groin. He began to massage the tense muscles there, his thumbs digging in with a firm, knowing pressure.
It was an unexpected relief, a counterpoint to the agony. The deep tissue massage forced my legs to relax even as the rest of me was wound tighter than a spring. He worked his way up, his slick hands gliding over my hip bones, my lower abdomen.
“Your body is so fucking responsive,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Every nerve is screaming for me. I could make you come just by looking at you the right way.”
He leaned in and kissed me again. This kiss was different—softer, slower, almost reverent. His lips moved against mine with a devastating tenderness that broke something open inside me. I kissed him back, pouring all my helpless need, my surrender, into the connection of our mouths. The frantic buzzing between my legs, the ache in my cock, it all faded for a second, replaced by this deep, terrifying intimacy.
He pulled back, his forehead resting against mine. His breath mingled with mine. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered, his voice raw. “Completely wrecked. Completely mine.”
He reached for the remote.
Click.
The vibration stopped.
The sudden silence was almost louder than the buzz. The absence of the sensation left a hollow, throbbing void. I sagged in the chair, boneless, dripping with sweat and lube and my own misery.
He didn’t touch my cock. Instead, he traced a finger through the mess on my stomach, collecting the spilled pre-cum. He brought his finger to my lips.
“Suck.”
I took his finger into my mouth, cleaning it with my tongue, tasting my own salty bitterness.
“Good boy.” He withdrew his finger. He picked up the lube once more. This time, he coated his own cock, stroking himself slowly as he looked down at me. He was fully hard, thick and veined, the head dark and swollen. A drop of his own pre-cum welled up and dripped onto my thigh.
“See this?” he said, his voice thick. “This is for you. This next massive, fucking flood of my maal is for your chut alone. But you have to earn it.” He stepped closer, the tip of his lund hovering just inches from my lips. “You’re going to suck me until I’m slick and ready. And you’re going to do it with your chut aching and empty. And then… then I’m going to untie one of your legs, and I’m going to lift it over my shoulder, and I’m going to fuck you right here in this chair. I’m going to pump you so full, it’s going to feel like I’m injecting cement into your pet. It’s going to be so much, you’ll feel it in your throat.”
His words painted the scene in my head, vivid and obscene. My spent body jolted with a fresh wave of arousal. I opened my mouth, my tongue darting out.
“Please… let me taste… let me get you ready to breed me…”
He nudged my lips with the hot, broad head of his cock. “Open wide, madarchod. Show me how hungry you are for my cock...
