Morning runs were therapeutic to Henry. Each mile gave him clarity, and the more his lungs burned, the clearer his thoughts were.
Now that he had the cage, they had become even more of an escape. The bouncing of his balls, the feeling of his cock locked in its plastic prison, now kept him from shedding what burdened him completely.
He arrived on the porch of Oakfield House, sweat dripping down his back and a plumpness that stirred below the band of his running shorts. The few girls he’d crossed paths with had smiled at him; some had even seductively thrown their ponytails back and batted their lashes at him. He wouldn’t have cared before, and in his current state, he cared even less.
Closing the front door behind him, he stared down at his watch and saw it ticking past 8 a.m. Then, his eyes met Kyle’s. Dark brown expanses Henry couldn’t help but be hypnotized by.
The other man had a hand down his dark green jogger pants, clearly rubbing his length as he walked closer. His lack of shirt allowed Henry to see how perfect he was. All hard muscles, huge pecs, and well-defined abdominals. Henry’s knees went weak, and the urge to kneel and serve hot-wired his mind. Ever persistent, his own manhood tried to get hard, let itself be known.
Unsuccessfully.
Henry grunted, “You’re up late.”
“You’re up early,” Kyle replied with a smirk. “Show off those pits.”
Obedience had been drilled into Henry’s mind a long time ago. He followed his coach’s demands and always ensured everybody was happy with him. He put his elbows up, locking his fists behind his head, and a chill hit his pits. His sleeveless sweatshirt was beautifully slutty, Kyle had told him a few days before at breakfast.
It had become Henry’s favorite. Wearing it was a way to show Kyle he’d heard him, that Henry would do everything he could to satisfy him.
Kyle pressed both his thumbs into Henry’s pits and drew little circles into them. Henry almost buckled away, laughs escaping his throat. His tormentor was so close he could smell his body wash, the scent of deodorant, and clean bedsheets. When Henry’s eyes flicked down, he noticed how hard Kyle already was. His fat cockhead was printed into the fabric of his pants, and his shaft lay flush on his right thigh.
“Please, sir, can I suck your cock?” Henry blurted out, blushing when the last word rolled off his tongue.
“Babe,” Kyle chuckled. “Right here in the hall?”
Henry nodded and dropped to his knees, hooking his trembling fingers to Kyle’s waistband, waiting for permission to pull them down. A simple pat on the head was his cue. The next moment, Kyle’s meat nearly slapped him in the face as it sprang free. A couple of drops of precum fell to the floor.
“Lick it up,” Kyle commanded.
Henry did, wincing at the thought of all the shoes and bare feet that had walked right there. He tasted the floor more than Kyle’s precious juice. However, the proud look on his superior’s face was enough to fill Henry with a warmth he had learned only belonged to Kyle. His obsession was strong, maybe too sudden, but there was no going back anymore.
The thick veins running along the dick in front of him made him throb, but it only resulted in pain. Henry bit his lower lip, set his hands flat on his thighs, and opened his mouth. Begging for release wasn’t an option; all the boys had gone through it, and he wasn’t going to be an exception. Mercy didn’t resonate well in the corridors of Oakfield.
Kyle felt Henry’s parted lips with his thumb, and Henry smelled his own stench on them. Afterward, he stuck two fingers into his mouth until Henry was a drooling mess. Stepping up, they were replaced by cock. Since becoming a locked boy, Henry had turned into a proficient cocksucker. Every cock he had serviced had been different in size, in shape, in smell, but Kyle was, of course, the best. The guy attached to it was a dream to work with.
So, Henry sucked and licked and always kept eye contact.
As a good boy should.
“Well, fuck!” someone said.
Henry buckled back, falling flat on his ass. Charles was standing on the stairs, thick arms crossed over his chest.
“Charles,” Kyle said, almost sounding annoyed.
“You’re really using our boy well, dude,” Charles descended the last three steps. “Can I join?”
“No, he’s mine today,” Kyle turned back to look at Henry, whose eyes widened in surprise. “Plus, I’m taking him out on a date tonight.”
Charles put his hand up and slipped into the kitchen, laughing softly.
“You… You’re really taking me out?”
“Yeah,” Kyle caressed Henry’s cheek. “But first, I need to mark you for the day. I need you to remember who you belong to. Follow.”
Kyle led Henry to the living room and motioned him toward the coffee table.
“Get in position, asshole facing me.”
Being on all fours was a rather comfortable position, even when his knees dug into the hardwood. The expensive incense heightened Henry’s senses; he had found it too strong at first, but now it smelled like home. A few beer cans were set on the side tables on either side of the couch, and the closed curtains let through a thin line of sunshine. If someone were to peer into the windows, they might see them.
Henry’s heart jumped, but he swallowed his fears to focus on the task at hand. His entire body was tense, but his hole was relaxed.
Yesterday’s fisting session had opened him up, and though his ass had shrunk back to its regular size, it was still extremely sensitive and raw. The feeling of a slick finger pressing into him and a wad of spit hitting his entrance made Henry moan. A true slut in the making. A fate he had accepted and that he knew he would keep embracing for the rest of his life.
The finger that broke into Henry did so easily, and the second that followed went in painlessly. He clenched around them, understanding Anton’s fisting had tenderized him but also made Henry better at accepting a good pounding. When the third finger entered him, Henry groaned, gripping the sides of the coffee table. His knuckles turned white, and his nipples perked up in his strong chest.
“Good boy,” Kyle praised, replacing his fingers with the tip of his cockhead.
Tha…”
Kyle rammed into Henry, cutting him off before he could finish speaking. His hole tightened instinctively, but the dragging of cock lit his inner walls on fire. Henry forced himself to relax and focused on the way Kyle nearly pulled out every time before slamming back in. He buried himself to the hilt every time, his big nuts slapping against Henry’s willing hole.
His prostate was being milked. Precum oozed out of the chastity cage as his poor cock was forbidden to get hard. Henry couldn’t escape; his hips were locked in place by strong hands, and his mind was too far gone to fight. He was gaped, again and again, eyes trained on the wall.
The next second, Kyle had flipped Henry on his back.
“You got practice today?” Kyle asked, panting and sweating.
“N-No, sir!”
“Good,” Kyle slammed into Henry and kissed him. “You’ll want to keep it quiet and relaxing today.”
The kissing was perfect in every way, rough and minty and musky. Their sticky skin joined them together, and the pounding of flesh brought Henry close to the edge.
“I’m getting close, sir!”
“Fuck, really?” Henry panted.
“Yes, please, can I cum?”
Kyle thrust in, hard and uncontrolled.
“Fuck yeah,” Kyle drilled Henry like a jackhammer. “Cum for me, baby, cum for me!”
The thrust that sent Henry overboard was both pleasurable and painful. His gut lurched, stars prickled his vision, and his ears rang.
Sweet cum leaked out of his slit and down his denied balls. Each spurt released some tension but also added some frustration. Henry wanted a hand wrapped around his dick. But all he had was Kyle’s cock thrusting into him and beating his prostate.
He breathed hard, holding onto the table like a lifeline until he found a better one.
Kyle’s neck.
He wrapped his arms around it and brought Kyle’s soft lips to his.
“Shit, babe,” Kyle mumbled. “I’m gonna fill you up!”
The pounding intensified. The strong scent of his own cum was heavenly; it had been so long. Henry loved cumming. He loved getting fucked. He loved sex, and he loved being a whore.
He smirked and smiled even wider when Kyle let out a long moan as he bred him. Warm cum shot inside him, and Henry kissed Kyle roughly. He counted seven powerful jets, and then his handsome breeder collapsed on him.
“Kyle, my fucking god,” Henry whispered breathlessly. “I want you to fuck me like that every day.”
“Only if you promise to cum only for me,” Kyle said.
“What if I can’t control myself?”
“You tell me and decide on a punishment.”
“Okay,” Henry agreed, too happy to argue.
“Good boy,” Kyle kissed his forehead. “Wait here, don’t let my cum leak out.”
Kyle came back quickly, a six-inch butt plug with a tapered end in his hand. Henry spread his legs wide, knowing full well what it was intended for. The plug slid in, ensuring Kyle’s precious seed was kept inside him.
“You’ll wear it all morning and while we’re out, unless you really need to go to the bathroom.” Kyle helped Henry up. “I have a nice place in mind for our first date. I’ll help you get ready.”
“Thanks, sir,” Henry replied.
A first date meant Kyle was considering a second one, and it was enough for Henry to hope for something more. Not only fucking, but a relationship. He’d give up football if it meant belonging to Kyle till death did them part. There was only one cock he truly needed. One man he desired.
One man he didn’t resent even when caged.
Kyle’s seed moved inside him, and as they got into the shower together, Henry leaned in for another kiss.
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