The soft chime of the group notification was like a Pavlovian bell, making my cock twitch against my thigh. Rohan, already kneeling on the floor by his bed, let out a shaky breath. On the screen of my laptop, the video call connected, splitting into two frames. On the left, Dhruv, looking beautifully nervous in his dorm room. On the right, Rohan, trying to look defiant but failing miserably. And in the center, me.
“Good evening, my pets,” I said, my voice a low rumble.
A chorus of “Good evening, Master” echoed back, one voice hesitant, the other more confident.
I leaned forward, filling their screens. “You both look so eager to please. It’s adorable. But don’t get comfortable. This tenderness won't fucking last.”
I watched them both shiver. Dhruv’s eyes widened. Rohan’s jaw tightened. Perfect.
“I’ve been thinking about you two all day. Thinking about how to truly test you. To see what you’re really made of. You’ll be performing a new set of tasks tonight. Alone. Go to your own rooms. Now.”
They scrambled to obey, Rohan getting to his feet and grabbing his laptop. Within a minute, I had two separate video feeds. I minimized Rohan’s for a moment, focusing on Dhruv first.
“Dhruv. My curious boy. You’ve been so good, but goodness is boring.” I tapped at my keyboard, sending his list. “These ten tasks are for you. I want pictures for each one. Don’t disappoint me.”
His phone buzzed. He looked at it, and his face paled. “Master… the window… my roommate could come back…”
“I don’t recall asking for your concerns, Dhruv,” I growled. “Your only concern is my satisfaction. Now begin.”
I switched to Rohan’s feed. He was waiting, shirtless, a proud smirk on his face. “Hello, Master.”
“Rohan. You think you have no limits. You posture and pretend you’re unbreakable. We’ll see about that.” I sent his list. “Your tasks are different. Specifically designed for a boastful little shit like you.”
He scanned the list, his smirk faltering on the last item. His eyes shot up to the camera. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I’m deadly serious. Task ten. You will go downstairs, right now, and find your friend—the one you play cricket with, the one who thinks you’re a normal guy. And you will tell him your secret. You will tell him you are Master Ansh’s submissive slut, that you beg for my orders, and that you love the taste of your friend’s dirty shoes. I want a video of his reaction.”
Rohan’s bravado shattered. “He’ll… he’ll think I’m insane. He’ll tell everyone.”
I let the silence stretch, enjoying his panic. “Then I suggest you be very persuasive. Make him believe. Or would you like to admit to me, right now, that you do have limits? That you’re not the perfect submissive you pretend to be?”
The challenge hung in the air. I saw the war in his eyes—pride versus fear. Finally, his shoulders slumped in surrender. “No, Master. I have no limits. I’ll do it.”
“Good boy. Now go.”
I maximized Dhruv’s feed again. He was already on task four, his body glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. “Tell me what you’re doing, Dhruv.”
His voice was a breathy moan. “I’m… I’m spanking myself, Master. With my hairbrush. Counting each one out loud.”
“Louder. Let me hear the sting.”
THWACK. “Thirteen!” he cried out, his ass cheek blooming a beautiful red. THWACK. “Fourteen!” His cock was rock hard, leaking onto his stomach with every strike. The mixture of pain and pleasure on his face was a fucking masterpiece.
For the next hour, I watched them unravel. Dhruv sent me a picture of his naked body pressed against the cold glass of his window, his breath fogging the pane. He sent a video of him whimpering as he fucked himself with a hairbrush handle, begging for my permission to cum, which I denied. He was a beautiful, broken mess, and he was all mine.
Then, Rohan’s video came in. The footage was shaky, shot from his phone, pointed at his friend’s stunned face. I could hear Rohan’s voice, low and earnest, explaining his submission to me. The friend’s expression cycled through confusion, disbelief, and finally, a dawning, perverse curiosity. He didn’t laugh. He asked questions. And by the end, he was nodding. Rohan had done it. He’d truly broken a limit.
Pride swelled in my chest. “Both of you. Come to Rohan’s room. Now.”
When their feeds merged again, they were together. The air was thick with tension and humiliation. Dhruv couldn’t meet Rohan’s eyes. Rohan looked shell-shocked, yet triumphant.
“Now for your final task together,” I purred. “I want you to face each other. On your knees.”
They obeyed, knees hitting the floor in unison, their cocks standing hard and eager between their legs.
“Look at each other. See the hunger. The desperation. I own that. I want you to jerk each other off. Slow. I want to hear every filthy thought.”
Rohan’s hand wrapped around Dhruv’s cock first, giving it a slow, firm stroke that made Dhruv cry out.
“Tell him what you are, Dhruv,” I commanded.
“I-I’m a filthy cocksucker, Master,” Dhruv moaned, his own hand working Rohan’s length.
“Louder.”
“I’m your filthy fucking cocksucker!” he shouted, his hips bucking into Rohan’s grip.
“And you, Rohan?” I asked, my own hand stroking my dick as I watched them.
“I’m your desperate little slut, Master,” Rohan groaned, his eyes locked on Dhruv’s. “I love your control. I love being your object.”
“You were both born for this,” I said, my voice dropping to a possessive growl. “To serve. To beg. To be used for my pleasure. Now beg for it. Beg for Master’s filthy creampie.”
The words unleashed something in them. Their rhythm became frantic, their pleas a symphony of submission.
“Please, Master, please let me cum,” Dhruv sobbed, his body trembling. “I need to feel it, I need your permission to make a mess, I need it so fucking bad!”
“Let me cover him, Master,” Rohan begged, his breath hitching. “Let me mark him with your permission. I want to see my fucking cum all over his desperate, pretty stomach.”
The sounds were obscene: the slick friction of their hands, their ragged breathing, their choked pleas. I could feel my own orgasm building, a tight coil in my gut.
“Now,” I snarled. “Cum for your Master.”
The effect was instantaneous. Rohan’s back arched violently as streaks of white shot from his cock, painting Dhruv’s abdomen and chest. The sight tipped Dhruv over the edge, his own release erupting seconds later, adding to the mess with helpless, shuddering spurts. They collapsed against each other, breathing in ragged gasps, covered in the proof of their submission.
“Don’t you dare move,” I ordered, my voice husky with my own unsated need. “Stay right there, covered in each other. I’m not finished with you yet. Dhruv, open your mouth.”
