The taste of Master’s claim is a sacrament on my tongue, bitter and perfect. I lap at Aryan’s ruined entrance, my fingers working deep inside him, stretching him for the audience he doesn’t even know yet. His broken sobs are a melody urging me on.
”Please, Dhruv… more…” he whimpers, pushing back onto my hand.
”You’re going to be so good for them,” I murmur against his wet skin, adding a third finger. He gasps, his whole body clenching around the invasion. ”You’re going to take every cock they offer you, you filthy little showpiece.”
The bathroom door swings open, cutting through the humid air. ”Enough prep work.”
Master Ansh’s voice is a whip-crack of command. I freeze, my fingers still buried in Aryan’s ass, and look up. He fills the doorway, his powerful frame radiating a new, more intense energy. He’s shed his clothes, his cock hard and heavy against his thigh, already gleaming with anticipation.
”On your feet, Aryan,” he commands. ”Hands and knees. Face Dhruv.”
Aryan scrambles to obey, his movements shaky, his eyes wide with a fresh wave of fear and want. He positions himself, his red, stretched hole on display for me, his face level with my own. Master Ansh kneels behind him, his thick cock nudging against Aryan’s entrance.
”And you,” Master says, his dark eyes pinning me in place. ”Open your mouth, Dhruv. You prepared his ass; now you will service his cock while I take what’s mine.”
The command is a lightning bolt of pure heat through my core. I don’t hesitate. I lean forward and take Aryan’s hard, leaking length into my mouth, sucking him deep. He cries out, the sound muffled by the small space.
At the same moment, Master Ansh thrusts forward, sheathing his entire cock in Aryan’s tight channel in one brutal, smooth motion. Aryan’s scream is genuine this time, a raw, torn sound of pain and shocking pleasure. His hips jerk, shoving his dick deeper down my throat. I gag around him, my eyes watering, but I don’t pull back. I suck him harder, using my tongue, my lips, my throat.
We are a degrading, perfect sandwich. Master’s powerful thrusts into Aryan’s ass slam the boy’s body forward, fucking his cock into my mouth with every drive. I am the conduit, taking Aryan’s pleasure and pain, channeling it through my own submission.
”Fuck, look at this,” Master grunts, his rhythm relentless. ”My two little sluts, connected. Dhruv, you were born to suck cock. Look at you, taking his entire length like a desperate fucking whore.”
Aryan is babbling, incoherent pleas and sobs falling from his lips. ”Master… too much… it’s… oh god…”
”It’s exactly what you deserve,” Master snarls, his hand coming down in a sharp smack on Aryan’s reddened ass. The crack echoes in the tiled room. ”You exist to be used. To be a warm, tight hole for my cock and a flesh toy for Dhruv’s mouth. Isn’t that right?”
”Yes! Master! Yes!” Aryan and I cry out in unison, our voices a mangled, desperate harmony around his cock.
Master’s pace becomes punishing, animalistic. I can feel every one of his thrusts through Aryan’s body. The force of it is overwhelming. Aryan is sobbing uncontrollably now, his pre-cum flooding my mouth, his body trembling on the edge. Master’s fingers dig into Aryan’s hips, holding him in place for a devastating series of deep, grinding thrusts.
”I can feel him,” Master groans, his voice strained with his own nearing climax. ”I can feel his little prostate begging for it. You gonna cum, you filthy boy? You gonna spill your worthless load down your friend’s throat while I own your ass?”
Aryan’s answer is a high, keening wail. His body seizes up, his back arching violently. The first hot, salty jet of his release hits the back of my throat. I swallow greedily, milking his cock with my throat muscles, drinking every drop as he convulses in ecstasy.
His orgasm triggers Master’s. With a final, guttural roar that seems to shake the very walls, Master Ansh slams home and pours himself into Aryan. I watch, mesmerized, as Aryan’s eyes roll back in his head, his body going completely limp from the force of the double assault. Master pumps his seed deep, his own body shuddering with the intensity of his release.
For a long moment, there is only the sound of heavy breathing and the drip of fluids on tile. Master pulls out slowly, and a fresh torrent of his cum leaks from Aryan’s thoroughly used hole. Aryan collapses forward into my arms, a boneless, sobbing mess.
Master Ansh stands, his power seeming to suck all the air from the room. He looks down at us, a king surveying his spoils.
”Get him cleaned up, Dhruv. Properly this time,” he says, his voice cool and composed once more. ”Then get dressed. Your night isn’t over.”
He tosses a towel at me. I catch it, my hands trembling. I gently, reverently, begin to wipe the sweat and tears from Aryan’s face.
”You…” Master points a finger at me, his gaze intense. ”You’re going to the club early. I want you to scout the scene. I want you to walk through those doors alone. I want you to feel the eyes on you. I want you to understand the atmosphere of hunger that awaits you both. Report back to me everything you see. Everything you feel.”
The command is a new kind of thrill, laced with a thread of terrifying anticipation. Going alone. Being seen.
”Yes, Master,” I whisper, my voice full of awe.
I finish cleaning Aryan as best I can, helping him into his clothes. He leans on me, weak and dazed. Master dresses with an efficient, predatory grace. He doesn’t look at us again before he leaves, the Professor, Rohan, and Vikram following in his silent wake.
The silence they leave behind is deafening. I help Aryan to a chair in the office, making sure he’s steady.
”I’ll be back,” I tell him, my hand on his cheek. ”Master has a job for me.”
He just nods, his eyes still glazed over.
I slip out of the building, the cool night air a shock on my heated skin. The club isn’t far, a discreet, unmarked door in a chic part of the city. My heart is a drum solo against my ribs as I approach. I push the heavy door open.
The atmosphere inside is a physical force. Low, throbbing music. The scent of expensive cologne, sweat, and dark desire. The lighting is dim, pools of shadow and intimate spotlight. And the eyes. So many eyes. They glide over me, assessing, hungry, knowing.
I walk slowly through the main room, my skin prickling under the collective gaze. I see booths with figures entangled, a central stage that’s currently empty, a bar where impeccably dressed men watch everything with casual intensity.
I feel a presence beside me before I hear the voice. Low, smooth, and laced with an authority that rivals Master Ansh’s.
”You’re new. And you’re alone.”
I turn. The man is older, his silver hair stark against his tan skin. His eyes are a piercing blue, missing nothing. He’s dressed in a tailored suit that does little to hide his powerful build. He exudes a dominance that is calm, patient, and utterly unnerving.
”Scouting for your Master?” he asks, a knowing smile playing on his lips.
I nod, my throat suddenly dry.
”I have a proposal for you,” he says, his voice dropping even lower, a intimate rumble that sinks into my bones. ”A little challenge. Right here, right now. Let’s see what you’re truly made of, before your Master even arrives.” His hand reaches out, his fingers brushing against the cage still locked around my dick through my jeans. ”What do you say?”
