There was a sink in the dungeon, next to a collection of leather masks and hoods. Henry was close enough to see Anton unhook one of the hoods from the wall. Then he saw him thoroughly washing his hands with soap up to his elbows, repeating the process a couple of times before drying them with a fresh towel folded to his left.
His neck began to ache, and Henry chose to look down at his caged dick. It was on full display; his legs were spread apart, and his ankles were shackled by padded leather straps. The chains rattled when he moved, securely attached to a fixture on the ceiling. His hard nipples demanded attention, and Anton, ever observant, smiled at him as he threw the hood he had selected on Henry’s ripped abs.
The leather was cool and flopped on his hard stomach with a dull sound.
“Put it on,” Anton instructed, not unkindly but firmly.
He was a man of few words. Gulping down a response, Henry took the hood and stretched it, staring at the holes where his eyes and mouth would be. Awkwardly, he put it over his head and pushed it down; it turned out to be comfortable enough, even though it was a snug fit. The smell of old sweat and cum still lingered on it, in addition to the scent of something sweeter. Henry couldn’t make out what it was, but it reminded him of wood and honey.
His dick stirred in its cage, his cockhead painfully pushing against it.
Anton cupped his nuts and tugged on them with his rough hands. “They’re so damn big, dude. Like, I know balls don’t actually get bigger, no matter how long they’re denied, but fuck, they do look it!”
“You like ‘em?” Henry asked, licking his lips.
“Yes,” Anton squeezed. “Who are you talking to right now, boy?”
He winced. “Sir, I’m sorry, sir!”
“Good boy! Don’t you ever forget. Kyle and the others might be more chill with the chain of command, but when you’re my toy, you better remember to address me with respect.”
“Yes, sir.” Henry looked to his side. The square table next to him was neatly arranged, with a large bottle of lube labeled “AnalGrease” in black letters. A fist proudly pumped up the air. “That’s a lot of lube, sir.”
The bench stuck to his back; the room was so warm that sweat was already breaking out of his pores. Anton checked the hood, adjusted it, and nodded.
“It is,” he replied, and moved to the table.
He slapped on a pair of black leather gloves and grabbed a large plastic syringe. It had no needle.
“This is a lube applicator.” Anton opened the lube bottle and filled the syringe to the brim.
Henry tensed up, his arms lying at his sides, twisting with apprehension. The hood felt protective in a way, turning him into a different person, a subservient slave separated from himself. The humiliation of what was coming would be less, hopefully. Before they’d entered the dungeon, Anton had mentioned fisting. A practice Henry had only heard about and barely paid any attention to when scouting for porn.
The syringe was inserted into his hole, and Anton pushed the lube deep inside him. Cold flooded him, coating his insides. To make sure he was well-lubricated, Anton did it again, and again, until lube began to leak out of Henry’s rim.
While doing it, Henry noticed his cock was rock hard. His prominent cockhead was fully exposed and lacked a frenulum. It was a tight cut, tighter than his.
Jerking off must’ve been a hassle.
“Time for the big stuff now,” Anton said to Henry, inches from his face. “You’ll behave?”
“Yes, sir.” He instinctively let his hole relax and glanced around. “Why isn’t Jeremy here?”
“He’s out with friends. Why?”
“Dunno… you two are always together.”
Anton laughed. “Yeah, we make a good pair.”
“Do you…” Henry clenched his teeth. “Never mind.”
“He’s a good friend, always stuck by my side. I couldn’t ask for anyone more loyal,” Anton continued as he poured lube all over his hands. “But it doesn’t mean we don’t have lives of our own outside of Oakfield.” Anton froze. “I’ll miss him when this is all over, that’s for sure.”
Tension gripped his shoulders.
“Use this when ordered to.” Anton tossed a tiny bottle of poppers to Henry, who caught it without flinching. “Nice reflexes, no wonder you’re such a good player, bro.”
Without any ceremony, Anton stuck two fingers into him. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt one bit. It stung. The wiggling fingers brushing against his prostate made Henry leak precum in seconds, but the sensation was good rather than uncomfortable. A third finger was added, and that was when Anton told Henry to take a long whiff of poppers.
His head spun, blood rushed through his veins, and warmth spread inside his body. He opened up, he let himself go. His heart raced, and his eyes rolled back in his skull when Anton stretched him out with a fourth finger.
It had gone fast, too fast. Had he really become a bottom slut in such a short time? So much so that he was ready to take a full fist without breaking much of a sweat?
That would be lying.
He was sweating and struggling. He kept his legs as still as he could, but Henry couldn’t help but pull at his restraints. His hands reached out for Anton, who slapped them away sternly.
“Behave, dude, I don’t want to punish you,” he warned calmly.
For a long time, Anton stayed buried without moving, giving his free cock a few strokes as he focused on Henry’s asshole. The palm of his hand was wide, the size of two thick dicks, and it made Henry wonder if he’d be able to handle double penetration.
“Ready for the thumb?” Anton asked.
“Please, sir,” Henry started, “It’s too much.”
“Take a whiff.”
Inhaling, he did his best to control his breathing. His entire body was stiff, his butt fighting against the hand prying him open. The latest hit helped him accept the situation, and when Anton’s thumb broke into him, Henry released a long, guttural moan.
“Good slut, bro!” Anton praised him, furiously wanking his own cock as he began to fuck him.
He had shaped his hand into a cone, and the slick rubber of his gloves let him thrust in and out with ease. As the fist inside him split him, Henry wondered what Kyle was doing.
He hadn’t been at the house when Anton called him, or when Anton gave him an enema to ensure he was clean for the day’s training session. He also wondered if Kyle would actually ask him out, or if his request had fallen on deaf ears. Henry closed his eyes. His locked manhood oozed more and more precum.
Then, he was breached.
His eyes popped open. Anton’s fist had gone in completely; he could feel his thick wrist being swallowed by his rim. Henry cried out, throwing his head back as he gripped the bench he was secured to. He tried to scurry away, but his bonds prevented him from doing so.
The stretch was too much, not painful, not truly. He wanted Anton out. A thing as big as a fist shouldn’t be inside him, and before he knew it, his lungs shrank and his vision blurred.
Anton shot up, leaning so close to Henry that he could feel his minty breath. He didn’t take his hand out and slowly pumped into Henry as he said:
“Calm down, dude.” Anton kissed his chest, placing the palm of his hand over his heart. “Look at me.”
Henry obeyed, eyes filling with tears.
His lungs burned, his chest heaved, and his skin was covered in a thick sheet of sweat. He reeked of desperation, his cock was begging to be touched, and his balls ached for release. The ringing in his ears muffled Anton’s praise.
“Do you want it to stop?” Anton asked.
“N-no, sir,” Henry grumbled.
“Are you totally sure, bro? No safeword?”
My safeword. Henry thought. Trooper.
They had agreed to it on his first night as Oakfield’s new cock sleeve. It occurred in seconds, between two sips of beer.
What if I used it?
“I can take it!” Henry screamed, strained, and flushed red. “I can take it!”
“That’s my boy.”
Anton extended his fingers once Henry had calmed down, tickling his sensitive walls until Henry felt as if he was going to piss himself. Instead, more precum leaked out of his cage. He groaned; he wanted to cum so badly. It had barely been a week, and he couldn’t handle being caged anymore. Getting fisted wasn’t the worst, but being a locked boy was.
In a beat, Anton removed his hand and punched it back in. He did it again, and again, until Henry’s hole was so loose he couldn’t control the lewd sounds it was making. It was wet and sloppy, and Henry blushed at the idea of Kyle seeing him like this. If he could, he’d curl up in a little ball and beg for the world to forget him. He had been deprived of his dick, robbed of his dignity, yet he couldn’t deny he enjoyed every second of it.
Then, he was empty again. This time, he didn’t feel Anton punching his hole into submission. He stared down and saw Anton kissing his thigh.
“You’ve been doing amazing,” he praised him. “Push your hole out.”
It gaped wide. Warm air hit him, soothing the burn lingering inside.
Anton rose up and lined his cock with Henry’s entrance before thrusting in.
“Like butter,” he breathed, slumping onto him. He rocked his hips, his fat cock an easy feat compared to his fist. “So fucking silky, dude.”
They didn’t kiss; all Anton did was plow Henry, using him as a fleshlight until he finally blew his load. Seed leaked out of his gaping asshole even though his current handler was still buried to the hilt. Anton playfully grabbed his locked dick and tugged at his sensitive sack.
“You’re so hot,” Anton said, pinching his nips. “How about we do this every Tuesday?”
“Sir… fisting? I don’t know, what if my hole can’t get back to normal?”
“Bro, don’t worry about that,” he leaned closer. “If you don’t use your safeword, I’ll keep fisting you until someone else draws the short straw. I can’t do it to Jeremy. He doesn’t like it.”
“Even when he is locked?”
“Even when he is locked,” Anton repeated. “He isn’t just a fuck toy for me. Not like you are.”
For the rest of the day, Henry limped his way through the house. His asshole was so sore he had a hard time sitting still, and every time Kyle looked his way, he blushed a pretty shade of crimson.
Everybody knew what had happened, and every smile thrown his way carried the words “Good whore”.
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