The heavy front door clicked shut, and a familiar, confident stride echoed through the apartment. Rahul, on his knees polishing the hardwood floor with a soft cloth, didn’t need to look up. He knew that walk. His stomach fluttered, a useless, empty little dance beneath the constricting satin of his corset. The cold silver of the chastity cage was a constant, humbling presence, a weight that anchored him to his new reality.
Vikram’s polished shoes came into view, stopping just inches from Rahul’s hands. “Well, well. The little maid is hard at work.”
From the leather armchair, Ansh didn’t look up from his book. “He serves his purpose. The place has never been cleaner.”
A low, appreciative chuckle rumbled from Vikram. “I can see that. But perhaps he could serve a more… entertaining purpose. It’s been a long day.”
Ansh finally closed his book, a slow, deliberate motion. He looked at Rahul, his sharp eyes missing nothing. “You heard him. Stand up.”
Rahul obeyed instantly, his body moving on a string pulled by Ansh’s voice. He kept his gaze lowered, his hands clasped in front of him.
“Look at him, Ansh,” Vikram said, his dark eyes raking over Rahul’s form-hugging corset and the sheer stockings held up by delicate black garters. “All that lace and satin. It’s a shame for it to go to waste on scrubbing floors. I want a show. Have him dance. For both of us.”
Ansh considered it for a moment, a king weighing the request of a favored courtier. He gave a single, curt nod. “You have a task, Rahul. A sensual lap dance. For me, and for our guest. Show us how grateful you are for your place here.”
A fresh wave of heat washed over Rahul. This was different from before. Before, there had been a sliver of himself, a kernel of the man he used to be, screaming in a locked room in the back of his mind. That room was empty now. The door was gone. There was only the need to obey, the desperate yearning to please. He was just a sissy, a thing to be ordered, a fucktoy for his Masters.
“Yes, Master Ansh. Yes, Master Vikram,” he murmured, his voice a soft, willing sigh.
Music, something with a deep, pulsing bassline, began to play from hidden speakers at a gesture from Ansh. Rahul closed his eyes for a second, letting the rhythm seep into his bones. When he opened them, his expression had softened into a look of vacant, devoted submission.
He started with Ansh, swaying his hips in a slow, circular motion just out of reach. He ran his own hands over the slick satin of his corset, cupping his padded chest, tracing the narrow line of his waist. He turned, bending over slowly, offering the view of his lace-clad bottom to his Master, swaying it in time with the beat.
Ansh watched, his expression one of cool, possessive appraisal. He didn’t touch, simply observed his property performing as instructed.
Then, Rahul moved to Vikram. This was different. Vikram’s energy was hungry, anticipatory. Rahul lowered himself, straddling Vikram’s lap, but careful not to put his full weight down. He ground his caged, sensitive sex against the hard muscle of Vikram’s thigh through the fine wool of his trousers. A soft, involuntary whimper escaped Rahul’s lips. The pressure was agonizingly sweet, the rigid confines of the cage sending sharp jolts of denied pleasure through his core.
Vikram’s hands came up, not to guide him, but to grip his hips, his fingers digging into the flesh above the stockings. “That’s it, you beautiful thing. Move for me.”
Rahul obeyed, rolling his hips in a tighter, more desperate circle. He leaned forward, draping his arms over Vikram’s shoulders, and brought his lips close to Vikram’s ear. He could smell his cologne, feel the heat of his skin. He began to move down, his body sliding against Vikram’s front, his satin-clad stomach grazing the prominent bulge that was now straining against Vikram’s zipper.
He nuzzled the hard line through the fabric, his lips parting. He looked up, meeting Vikram’s dark, intense gaze, asking a silent question.
“Yes,” Vikram hissed, the word a sharp crack of desire.
Rahul’s delicate fingers, once so hesitant, now worked with practiced efficiency. He freed Vikram’s thick, hard cock, the sight of it making his mouth water. He didn’t wait for another command. He leaned in and took the head into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tip, tasting the clean, musky pre-cum that had already beaded there.
A low groan echoed above him. From his chair, Ansh spoke, his voice a low command. “Not yet. Back on my lap. Now.”
Rahul released Vikram with a soft, wet pop and immediately crawled over to Ansh, who had now unzipped his own jeans. Ansh’s cock stood proud and demanding. Rahul positioned himself backwards over Ansh’s lap, presenting himself to Vikram while taking Ansh into his mouth.
The world narrowed to sensation. The feel of Ansh’s length hitting the back of his throat, the salty taste of him, the way his Master’s hands came to rest on his head, not forcing, but guiding. And behind him, he felt Vikram’s hands on his hips, pulling him up, positioning him. He felt the blunt, hot pressure of Vikram’s cock against his entrance, still sensitive and stretched from previous use.
Vikram didn’t ask. He pushed.
Rahul gasped around Ansh’s cock as Vikram filled him in one slow, inexorable thrust. The feeling of being taken, of being utterly full and completely used, shattered the last fragments of his consciousness. He was a vessel. A toy.
He found a rhythm, a desperate, broken rocking. He pushed back onto Vikram’s thrusts, taking him deeper, while simultaneously fucking his own mouth on Ansh’s cock. The sounds were obscene: the wet slap of skin, Vikram’s guttural groans, the choked, gagging sounds Rahul made as Ansh pushed his head down further.
Ansh’s fingers tightened in his hair. “Look at you. Our perfect little sissy. Taking us both so well. You were born for this, weren’t you?”
“Yes, Master!” Rahul moaned, the words vibrating around Ansh’s shaft.
The pleasure was a coiled spring in his belly, pulled taut by the chastity cage, a torment that was also the greatest ecstasy he’d ever known. He was hurtling toward a precipice he couldn’t possibly fall from, his body straining for a release that was firmly, cruelly, wonderfully locked away.
Vikram’s pace became frantic, his grip bruising. “I’m going to fill this pretty little ass, you slut.”
Ansh’s hips bucked upwards. “And you will swallow every last drop I give you. Do you understand?”
Rahul could only manage a frantic nod, his body trembling violently between them, a live wire of submissive bliss, as he felt both men begin to…
