The coarse fabric of the couch pressed against his palms as Rahul assumed the position, his heart hammering against his ribs. The black lace of his chemise was rucked up around his waist, and the matching panties were a damp, strained promise against his swollen cock. He could still taste Ansh on his lips, the musk of him a heady perfume that made his head spin. He heard the rustle of clothing behind him and braced himself, his body humming with a desperate, submissive need.
A warm, heavy hand landed on the small of his back, pressing him down, arching his spine. He could feel the heat of Ansh’s body just behind him, a dominant presence that made the air crackle.
“So eager,” Ansh murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through Rahul’s very bones. His fingers traced the lace edge of the panties, skating along the sensitive skin of Rahul’s inner thigh. “Presenting yourself to me like a good little sissy. You want this, don’t you?”
Rahul could only whimper, a broken, desperate sound. “Yes, Master Ansh. Please.”
*“Please what?” The question was a blade, sharp and precise.
“Please… take me. Use me.”
Ansh’s hand stilled. The absence of his touch was a physical pain. Rahul heard him take a step back. He dared to glance over his shoulder, his eyes wide with confusion and fear.
Ansh stood there, fully clothed, a cruel, predatory smile playing on his lips. He was looking down at Rahul’s prone, offered form with a calculating gleam in his sharp eyes. “I have decided,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument, “that you must earn your pleasure.”
The words were a bucket of ice water. Rahul’s arousal didn’t vanish, but it was suddenly tangled with a sharp, thrilling spike of anxiety. “Master?”
“This was a good first step. A bold declaration.” Ansh gestured vaguely at the lingerie. “But dressing up is the easy part. Any boy can put on lace. Submission… true submission… is in the follow-through. It is in the obedience when you are denied what you crave most.”
He walked around the couch, coming to stand in front of Rahul. He looked down, his gaze piercing. *“Do you understand?”
Rahul’s mouth was dry. He nodded, a quick, jerky motion. “I understand, Master.”
“Good.” Ansh’s smile widened. “Your first task is a small one. Prove your commitment. Remove the lingerie.”
Rahul blinked, the command so counter to his every desire that it took a moment to process. Take it off? After he’d waited with such nervous anticipation to be seen in it? The lace felt like a second skin, his new, truer skin. To shed it felt like a rejection.
“Now, Rahul,” Ansh commanded, his voice hardening. “Every second you hesitate is a second you prove me right.”
The sting of that was worse than any physical blow. Moving as if in a dream, Rahul pushed himself up onto his knees. His fingers, trembling slightly, went to the delicate straps of the chemise. He slipped them off his shoulders, the lace whispering against his skin as he pulled the garment over his head. He let it drop to the floor, a puddle of black against the rug. He felt exposed, vulnerable in a way he hadn’t before. The air felt cool on his bare chest.
Then, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of the panties, he pushed them down his hips, over his thighs, his hard cock springing free. He knelt there, completely naked, his gaze fixed on the floor, his body humming with a confusing mix of shame and aching need.
Ansh observed him, his expression unreadable. He reached down and picked up the discarded chemise, bringing the soft lace to his nose. He inhaled deeply, a dark, possessive look flashing in his eyes.
“You’ve done well,” he said, his voice dropping back into that intimate, approving growl that made Rahul’s stomach clench. “You obeyed, even when it was the last thing your body wanted. That… that is the foundation.”
He dropped the chemise and closed the distance between them. His hand, large and warm, cupped Rahul’s cheek, forcing his gaze upward. *“And obedience deserves a reward.”
Before Rahul could process the shift, Ansh’s other hand snaked behind his head and pulled him forward. His mouth crashed down on Rahul’s, the kiss a bruising, dominant claim. It was nothing like before. This was not about teasing exploration; this was about ownership. Ansh’s tongue plunged into his mouth, and Rahul surrendered to it completely, a moan trapped in his throat. The taste of himself on Ansh’s lips was the most erotic thing he’d ever experienced.
Ansh broke the kiss as suddenly as he started, leaving Rahul gasping. *“Back on your hands and knees. Now.”
Rahul scrambled to comply, his earlier hesitation utterly forgotten, replaced by a frantic need to please. He felt the couch dip behind him as Ansh knelt. Then, a slick, cool sensation as Ansh’s fingers, now coated with lube, pressed against his entrance.
Rahul jolted, a sharp gasp tearing from his lips. “Shhh,” Ansh soothed, his other hand a firm, steadying weight on Rahul’s hip. “Relax. This is your reward. Accept it.”
The pressure was insistent, undeniable. Rahul forced himself to breathe, to push back against the intrusion. One finger slid inside him, a slow, burning stretch that was pure, undiluted sensation. It was overwhelming, alien, and yet it felt… right. It was a filling, a claiming. He buried his face in the couch cushion, a muffled cry escaping him as Ansh began to move his finger, a slow in-and-out that scissored and stretched him open.
“So tight,” Ansh groaned, the sound raw with his own desire. “You’re taking me so well. Preparing yourself for your Master.”
A second finger joined the first, and Rahul’s back arched, a strangled cry ripped from his throat. The stretch was intense, a fiery ache that blossomed into a deep, throbbing pleasure as Ansh’s fingers crooked, searching. They brushed a spot inside him that made his vision whiten.
“There!” Rahul cried out, his voice breaking. “Oh god, there!”
*“I know,” Ansh purred, relentlessly stroking that incredible, hidden place. Pleasure, sharp and electric, radiated outwards from that single point, coiling in his gut, making his cock leak onto the couch cushion. He was losing all control, his body rocking back onto Ansh’s hand, chasing the sensation.
Just as he felt himself teetering on the very edge, the fingers were gone. The emptiness was a physical agony. He whined, a pathetic, pleading sound.
He heard the rip of a foil packet, the rustle of clothing. Then, the blunt, insistent head of Ansh’s cock pressed against him, so much larger and more solid than his fingers.
“This is what you earned,” Ansh growled, his voice thick with lust. “This is what you wanted. Tell me you want it.”
“I want it! Please, Master, I need it!” “Then take it.”_
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