The world shattered into a kaleidoscope of sensation. Vikram’s guttural groan vibrated through Rahul’s entire body as his climax surged, a hot, pulsing rush that filled him to the core. At the exact same moment, Ansh’s hips bucked upwards, his fingers tightening like iron bands in Rahul’s hair, holding him in place as his own release flooded the back of Rahul’s throat.
Rahul’s body convulsed between them, a perfect, overstimulated instrument of their pleasure. He swallowed obediently, desperately, around Ansh’s throbbing length, taking every salty, bitter drop as he was commanded. Behind him, he felt the warm, wet spill of Vikram’s possession seeping deep inside him, a claiming that branded him just as thoroughly. The dual sensations—one internal, one external—overlapped and merged into a single, overwhelming tide of submission.
He was utterly full. Utterly used.
For a long moment, the only sounds were their ragged breathing and the wet, obscene drip of their combined releases. The air was thick with the musky scent of sex and sweat. Ansh’s grip in his hair finally loosened, his softening cock slipping from Rahul’s bruised lips with a soft, wet sound. Vikram’s weight shifted behind him, his own spent length sliding out, leaving Rahul feeling achingly empty and dripping.
Rahul remained on his hands and knees, his head hanging low, his entire body trembling with the aftershocks. The cool air of the room hit his wet, used skin, raising goosebumps. He could feel their cum, one load cooling on his tongue, the other leaking from his well-stretched hole, tracing a warm, sticky path down his inner thigh. The sensation was filthy. Degrading. Perfect.
A strong hand, Ansh’s, patted his cheek possessively. “Good sissy. You took your Masters so well.”
Vikram’s chuckle was a dark, satisfied rumble. He ran a hand over the curve of Rahul’s ass, his fingers deliberately smearing the evidence of his possession. “Look at this mess we’ve made of you. Absolutely ruined. It’s a beautiful sight.”
Rahul shuddered, a fresh wave of dizzying bliss washing over him at their words. This was his purpose. To be their beautiful, ruined thing.
Ansh stood, towering over him. “Clean him up, Vikram. Then bring him to the bedroom. I’m not finished with my sissy yet.”
The command sent a new, thrilling jolt of anticipation through Rahul’s spent body. More. There was more.
He felt Vikram’s hands on him again, not rough now, but purposeful. A warm, damp cloth—where had he gotten it?—was smoothed over his back, his thighs, between his cheeks, wiping away the sweat and the proof of his use. The touch was almost clinical, yet it felt like another layer of possession, another act of ownership. He was being tended to, cared for, like a valuable object that needed maintaining.
When he was clean, Vikram’s hands gripped his hips and guided him up. His legs were weak, wobbling in the high heels. He couldn’t stand on his own. Vikram seemed to understand, holding him steady with an arm around his corseted waist, half-carrying him as he followed Ansh out of the living room and down the hall.
The bedroom was dimly lit, dominated by a large, low bed. Ansh was already there, leaning against the headboard, completely naked and magnificently aroused again. His eyes, dark with renewed hunger, tracked their every move.
“Bring her here,” Ansh said, his voice a low thrum of command.
Vikram guided Rahul to the edge of the bed. Ansh reached out, his fingers tracing the line of the corset. “Such a pretty package. But I want to feel all of you now. Take it off.”
Rahul’s fumbling fingers went to the back, but Vikram was there, his deft hands untying the complex knot Ansh had made days ago. The laces loosened with a whisper, and the brutal, beautiful pressure around Rahul’s torso eased all at once. He gasped as the corset was peeled away, the air cool on his newly freed skin. Vikram made quick work of the garters and stockings, until Rahul stood naked before them both, wearing nothing but the gleaming silver chastity cage.
He felt more exposed than ever.
Ansh’s gaze was a physical weight, roving over every inch of him. “On the bed. On your back.”
Rahul climbed onto the soft sheets, lying back as instructed. The cool cotton was a shock against his heated skin. He looked up at the two powerful men standing over him, his Masters, and a fresh, desperate ache began to build behind the cold silver of his cage.
Vikram leaned down, his lips finding Rahul’s in a deep, claiming kiss. It was different from Ansh’s—smoother, more exploring, but no less dominant. His tongue plundered Rahul’s mouth, tasting the remnants of Ansh, marking him with his own flavor. As he kissed him, his hand wandered down, his fingers tracing the cold metal of the cage, then dipping lower to circle Rahul’s desperately sensitive, leaking entrance.
Rahul moaned into Vikram’s mouth, his hips lifting off the bed of their own accord, seeking the pressure.
Vikram broke the kiss, a smirk playing on his lips. “So eager for it again, already? You really are insatiable.” He looked over at Ansh. “Your turn. I want to watch.”
Ansh moved onto the bed, kneeling between Rahul’s spread legs. He pushed them up and apart, bending Rahul nearly in half, exposing him completely. He looked down at where Vikram’s fingers were still playing, at the mess they had both made of him, and his eyes darkened with pure, predatory lust.
He spat, once, into his palm, slicking his already hardening cock. The crude, primal act made Rahul’s breath catch. There would be no more preparation. He was already open, already used, already theirs.
“Hold him,” Ansh commanded Vikram.
Vikram moved, his strong hands pinning Rahul’s wrists to the bed above his head, his body leaning over him, watching intently. Ansh positioned himself, the blunt head of his cock pressing against Rahul’s well-stretched entrance.
Ansh’s eyes locked with Rahul’s. “This is your reward. For being so perfect. For taking us both. Now you take me again. All of me.”
And he thrust forward, burying himself in one smooth, powerful motion.
Rahul cried out, the sound swallowed by Vikram’s mouth as he descended for another kiss. The feeling was unbelievable. The immediate, deep fullness, the familiar shape of Ansh stretching him, the weight of Vikram holding him down, kissing him senseless. He was trapped between them, a willing prisoner of their desire.
Ansh set a brutal, punishing pace from the start, his thrusts deep and precise, each one angling to brush that incredible spot inside him that made his vision blur. The cage felt like a live wire, sending jolts of denied pleasure through his system with every drive of Ansh’s hips.
Vikram released his mouth, instead lowering his head to Rahul’s chest, his lips and teeth finding a nipple, sucking and biting until Rahul was writhing, mewling, utterly lost.
“Look at her,” Vikram growled against his skin, his voice thick with arousal. “Look how she falls apart for your cock. She was born for this.”
Ansh’s rhythm began to falter, his own control slipping. His thrusts became harder, faster, more frantic. His grunts were raw, animalistic. He was chasing his peak, using Rahul’s body to get there, and the sheer animal power of it pushed Rahul higher and higher.
He was a hairsbreadth from a mind-shattering, caged climax, teetering on an edge he couldn't fall from, when Ansh froze, buried to the hilt. A roar was torn from his throat as he came, his release hot and deep inside Rahul, a second claiming in as many minutes.
The pulsating heat, the feeling of being filled again, was the final push. Rahul’s back arched violently off the bed as a silent, breathless scream ripped through him. An impossible, dry orgasm seized him, waves of intense pleasure radiating from his caged sex with nowhere to go, crashing through his entire being without a single drop of release. It was agony. It was ecstasy. It was everything.
He collapsed back onto the sheets, completely spent, his body humming, his mind blissfully blank.
Ansh slowly pulled out, collapsing beside him. Vikram finally released his wrists, trailing a hand down his arm.
The room was silent except for their heavy breathing. Ansh turned his head on the pillow, his eyes, heavy-lidded and sated, meeting Rahul’s.
“You have surpassed every expectation,” he murmured, his voice rough. “My perfect sissy. Our perfect sissy.”
