As we walked out of the club, the atmosphere hit me like a cliché: A breath of fresh air. The fog of the club lifted in both a literal and mental way. I looked around quickly, panic slowly rising in my chest. Maybe there would be a familiar landmark? Something to tell me where I was.
There was nothing. No landmark I recognized, no mountains in the distance, no street sign that was familiar, no storefront.
I physically slumped.
The guy must've noticed. We'd stopped walking, and he released my hand to the cold air; we were both illuminated only by the yellow sodium lights of the lot that had three cars remaining, and there was the faint neon from the club behind me, playing across his face in subtle, shifting colors. He was staring at me. I looked at him. There was something … odd … about his eyes, but he blinked long enough that when they opened, I'd lost sight of whatever it was.
"Well?" he asked.
"I don't know."
"Don't know … what?"
I twisted, looking around, and threw my massive arms up in defeat. "Any of this! What's going on?"
The man looked up to me. He reached a hand and touched my neck – no, touched the collar around my neck. I felt the metal press cold and hard against my skin. His other hand reached down, and I felt and heard a clink and a faint jingle of bells. The top quarter of my cock was sticking up from the waistband of the jockstrap. Fuck.
"Are you cold?"
"What?" What kind of a question was that when my life had disappeared?
"Are. You. Cold."
He asked in a way that wasn't really a question, like he knew the answer already. Who was this guy? I looked around, and there were snow flurries landing on my bare arms and legs, the jockstrap and tank top covering almost nothing, the boots providing some basic protection. I stared, watching the flurries land on my thin arm hairs and stay, not melting.
He pressed a hand to my arm. It felt warm – hot, even – but not uncomfortably so, like placing one's hands in front of a hearth. When he released, the snow under his fingers was gone, sprinkles of cool moisture settling upon my skin.
"No."
He snorted. "Didn't think so. It's like, 20 out here. Come on, I'm freezing, let's get in my car. I don't have many answers, but I might have a few for you. You'll only get them if you get in my car. Come on, I'm tired of this."
He twisted and walked away from the building, through the lot, towards what looked like an extremely expensive sports car. I thought quickly, again weighing my options.
I jogged to catch up to him.
By the time I'd gotten to his car, the heat was on as I slipped into the passenger seat. "Porsche Taycan, Turbo," he remarked as I closed the door. It didn't mean much to me, and he said it with a sense of pride that had an undercurrent of boredom, like he knew what it was and enjoyed that, but at the same time it didn't matter.
He threw me a towel. "Wipe the snow off, I don't want you getting the seat wet."
We tore out of the parking lot after I wiped. "Keep the towel, you may need it," he told me.
As we drove, I tried to memorize the path in case I needed to get back. Not like the club was meaningful as a starting place, but it was something. At a light, he looked over to me, looking me up and down again.
He said one word: "Cum."
My dick seized up, flexing under the jockstrap band as cum shot around my piercing. He grinned and when the light turned green, we went from 0 to 60 in four seconds as cum painted my face, neck, chest, and the tank top he'd given me and I struggled for breath, the scent of my cum and musk mixing with the heat of the car and the noise of the engine as we made our way out of town.
I used the towel to clean up, still panting, him grinning like a lunatic.
"Fuck, that was hot," he remarked, nostrils flaring. "And your scent … that's somethin' else." He reached to turn up the air.
I wasn't sure how to reply, so I just said, "Thanks?"
He laughed. "I like you. I'm feeling generous. Ask one question, and I'll answer it if I can."
One question? Seriously? I looked at him, his eyes straight ahead. He was young, but he looked like someone used to getting their way. "How – why – did you pick me up?"
His lips tightened and I saw his jaw move slightly, his hands flinching on the wheel as we went around a turn. The noise of the engine settled back before he replied.
"Clever. Several questions in one." His voice shifted to monotone. "I am compelled to answer …" I started to get tingly
He looked at me and stuck his tongue out. "Psych!!"
His eyes were back on the road. "Okay, so … like I said, I know a little about the fae, and I can see a little. My eyes were licked by a pixie when I was a baby." He looked at me, deadpan.
"Seriously?"
He burst out laughing again. "Fuck dude, you're too easy. No, that's gross. I mean, no kink shame here, but that is so not my thing. Anyway, did you notice how no one really noticed when your body did weird stuff in the club?"
I thought back. "Some sorta did?"
"Right, but they passed it off like it was completely normal, nothing to see here. That's how things work. Except for some of us. When you've been altered by a fae, especially for a punishment, they usually like to do things to your body. Which can be … 'fun.'" He revved the engine and turned to me, a glint in his eye. "Like I said, I'm bored. I have all this stuff, but it's not interesting. That's why I went to the club, I thought it would be interesting, and lucky enough, I found you.
"People do stupid shit all the time and so getting punished is more common than you might think. Still, after I let one get away before, when I saw you, I didn't want to lose another chance. So … " he lowered his voice. "'I made you an offer you couldn't refuse.' Or, I really hoped you wouldn't."
He seemed lost in thought after that, almost vulnerable. We drove in comparative silence, but when he pulled off the road on a secluded drive, he told me, "My name's Allen, by the way. Cum."
Thick ropes shot again from my dick as I spasmed, heart racing, breathing ragged, as the car pulled into a garage. He looked at me, still grinning, as I was still catching my breath, the smell of my cum permeating the car. He lowered the windows an inch.
"Make sure you use that towel to wipe all that up. I don't want it in my car. Or house. Cleaner doesn’t come 'til next week.
Breathless, I smeared the cum up with the already soaked towel, more spreading it on my skin than really removing it, but I did my best. Allen just watched.
When I'd finished, he got out and walked to the door, opened it, and went inside. I wasn't sure what to do, but maybe this was a test. Do I follow? Did he … did he leave the keys? Yes! There they were, still in the center console. I could easily just …
I looked around. On the other hand … I looked at the towel. A towel he'd first given me to wipe the snow off, because the snow didn't melt on my skin. I looked from it to the car keys and back.
I opened the door, and got out. I went into the house, and he was waiting just inside the door. His expression for a microsecond was worry, until he saw me and his eyes lit up. Then his expression flattened almost immediately, and he simply said, "Good."
He turned and walked away, and I followed. My eyes were wide as I took in the house. It wasn't necessarily large, but it was money. Sharp angles, black metal, glass, original art on the walls. He didn't give anything a second glance, we just kept walking and made it to a bedroom with a large bed in the middle.
He pointed to another door. "I don't want you to smear my sheets with cum, at least not yet. Not from all those other guys. Shower's in there."
I watched as he stripped – decent body, slightly muscled, lean, decent cock … my hole twitched. Then, he crawled into bed.
I went to the bathroom, stripped, and got in the shower. My cock stayed rock hard the entire time as I washed every massive muscle, the soap lathering on my short hairs and sliding through my slick crevasse. I could almost imagine that this was actually normal, letting my mind drift with the spray coming from the three shower heads. Every moment that I did, I'd shift, and the piercing through my dick sounded the faint jingle. Still, it felt good, the muscles, my large cock, aching and tingling with my heavy balls pulling deliciously and begging to be emptied … but not by me.
I dried myself off and I wrapped the towel around my waist. It was habit. He'd seen everything, and he was naked. But it was … I felt exposed. Which I was. But the towel at least gave me the sensation of some control.
"Lose the towel."
Before I even consciously processed his voice, my hands dropped and the towel fell onto the plush carpet that was currently hugging my toes. I should've known it couldn't be that easy.
He looked at me, calculating. As if he was mentally logging everything I did, every command I obeyed. I don't know why I obeyed. I just … I wanted to. But I didn't. But something inside me did. Fuck.
I hung the towel and then stood there. He lifted the covers on one side of the bed and he turned over. It wasn't a command. It wasn't an order. I felt like this might be another test. I took a deep breath, and I got into bed with him, falling asleep quickly against the soft, smooth sheets. In my dreams was a nightmarish face, rows of sharp teeth, a long forked tongue, laughing at me.
I woke up to eyes staring, on top of me. Something warm and tight around my …
"Cum."
Fuck! My hips thrust up, the sensation of being inside Allen's tight hole magnifying everything, my entire body shuddering under his own body as his hole swallowed my load. My neck muscles pressed against the collar as I grunted and groaned before finally settling back down.
Allen was still on top of me, his hips moving, shifting slightly. "Cum." My entire body spasmed again, my heavy balls hitting up against his supple ass as my cock unloaded another massive hit of baby batter into his tight cavity. I was breathing heavily, panting. He looked me in the eyes, and in his irises I thought I saw a weird shift of iridescent rainbow— "Cum."
Just as intense as before, I shot what felt like a massive load as he rode it out on top of me, my hips bucking and then he said that word again: "Cum."
I lost track after that. My brain was overwhelmed by whatever my body was doing, responding to. He said it not with an air of permission, but as an inevitability: He said the word, and my body would respond because that's what my body did now, without conscious thought, it obeyed.
"Please …" I asked, shooting again. His face glistened with sweat and excitement, and he bounced on my cock and only replied, "Cum."
The sheets were soaking with my sweat when he finally released me, slipping off my cock, and I felt a torrent of my semen pour out of his used hole onto me, and then the bed. I was beyond caring, beyond coherent thought. He walked on his knees up to my face and straddled my neck. He fed his cock into my mouth. It was a good size. Reflexively, I opened my mouth to accept him, and I felt my jaw open just a bit too far, and his cock slipped down my throat easily. My throat welcomed his sausage, willingly, wantingly even.
I gulped at his cock, massaging it, milking it. He moaned and rocked his hips. "Fuck … yeah ... swallow it all … so good … ." He whimpered and groaned as I continued working his shaft. I felt a drop of warm cum drip from his hole and run down my neck.
It was like … I don't know, it was like I wasn't even thinking about it. It was an automatic response: Dick in, milk dick. Pure, simple logic my throat knew even if my brain didn't. And, it felt good. I don't know why it did. Even if I wanted to stop for the sheer indignity of it, I didn't want to stop because it just felt so good. Like, every gulp, every contraction of my throat muscles around his shaft felt as good as pumping my own dick.
It didn't take him long to shoot and it was like my throat had a vacuum attachment, sucking down his cum, milking every drop of his rhythmically pulsing cock as it shot warm fluid into my stomach.
When he finished, he rolled off, lying next to me, panting slightly.
"That was good," he stated, matter-of-factly once his breath had slowed. I was just lying there. I saw from the corner of my eye him look at me. He rolled his eyes and then sat up, barely making a divot in the large bed, my own mass pulling him closer.
"You're no fun like this. Fine. I'll respond to two questions, but bear in mind I might not know the answers."
Great. I looked around the room, sunlight slitting through the windows and warming the area as this smug maybe-20-something guy sat next to me. Staring at me.
Then it dawned on me: Every single step was a test of power and control. And I'd followed. I'd been a willing participant in my own submission.
I had to get out of this, this was crazy! I started to tell my muscles to move, to get the fuck out of this room … but … he did say he'd respond to two questions.
"What's happening to me?"
"Your body and mind were almost certainly altered by the fae. Usually that's because you did something to piss them off. They have rules about just acting out and affecting humans for fun. Lots and lots and lots of rules …" he got a distant look on his face, and then he looked back at me.
"Next?"
Fuck. This guy was like a jin, and my question wasn't specific enough. He already told me that last night.
"What specifically did this 'fae' do and how do I get out of it?"
"That's two, you forfeit!" He looked giddy.
I couldn't stop myself, I had a flash of anger and I rolled over. Muscles bulging, I grabbed him to restrain him to … take him hostage? Something. He had answers and I needed them!
He grabbed my arms and pushed them away, like they were made of spaghetti. Fuck! He was still grinning.
"Whoever worked on you is an artist. Fuck, man! Look!" He pointed to his hard dick. "You got me hard again with those big muscles being so useless. I've always wanted to dominate – control – a muscle hunk like you and … fuck! Look at you!"
I was struggling, humiliated, but giving in would make it worse. I tried desperately, his hands on my wrists, and he pinned me like it was nothing. I couldn't give in I just …
He straddled me as I struggled, still holding my arms down. My cock dripped, and in a moment he'd leaned over in all his long and leanness and latched onto my left nipple. And sucked. Hard.
It started. My nipples grew, the pleasure migrating from elsewhere up to them. Thick, big nubs, pulsing, throbbing … I felt a sharp sensation and while my left nip was still in his mouth; I saw a glint of metal through the other.
My head was clouding. I felt him shift and reach over as his mouth released my nipple. He reached back, and my balls felt heavy. Cold. Constricted. His mouth latched onto my right nipple as his hand played with my left. It felt amazing.
Like they were wired. My nipples wanted to cum. Cum from my titties. I laughed inside. Moaned outside. Milk me! Only pleasure. Shifting weight on my stomach. Warm mouth on tit. Flicked nipple. Bells. So good. So sensitive.
A word: "Cum!"
Back arched. Balls tight. Heavy. Cock surge. Wet spray. All over … more! "More!!" I begged.
Sensation from my chest decreased. His weight shifted next to me. I blinked. I whimpered. I looked down. The metal was gone, my nipples shrinking back. Still strong, firm, and visible. Hard, and big. Covered in cum. But my mind was coming back as the sensation lessened. The weight still on my balls. I felt them churning. It was uncomfortable. I shifted a little, giving them more space.
"Interesting."
That was all he said. My mind echoed him, "Interesting." Just, that word said so much. I wanted to curl into a ball. Then I realized: He might know just as much – or little – as I did. And maybe I had something I could use.
I put my hands behind my head. My armpits were exposed, showing his preference: Thick, but not bushy. I groaned: My body was still not my own, no matter how much I tried or pretended. But still … I sniffed. The musk was there. Earthy, heady, spices …
I looked over to him, and his pupils grew ever-so-slightly wider. I cleared my throat, remembering another bit. In the sexiest, deepest voice I could muster, I asked, "How about some more questions?"
He looked at me and gulped, his breathing quicker, and I saw his Adam's apple move as he swallowed again. He nodded. I tried not to smirk.
"What specifically did the fae do to me?"
He looked at me, nostrils flaring. I saw him sway just a teeny bit, towards my pit.
"Cum on command, nipples that grow, make you stupid. No limits to cum. Big balls, testing that now. Always hard dick, it didn't go down at all last night. Big muscles, but … weak. And smell of sex, make you hornier, sweat, smell, loop … smell …"
He looked at my armpit and licked his lips. He leaned forward, slowly, struggling. "Musk …" we both said it at the same time. He inhaled deeply, eyes closed. I reached over to pull his head down, bury it, make him mine and make him tell me everything—
He pulled his head back, jerking away, falling back, and he scrambled to the far side of the bed. He literally smacked himself, leaving a red mark on his otherwise porcelain, unblemished face.
"Wh—what are you doing?" he asked, the former swagger gone. For the first time, I thought I saw a flash of fear on his face.
"Nothing," I replied, innocently.
"Fuck that shit." He opened a drawer and pulled out the smallest cock cage I'd ever seen. Oh fuck.
I tried to get away, but he told me not to: "Stay!"
I stayed. I couldn't get away. I wanted to, but deeper down I didn't want to. And that deeper down part controlled my body.
He brought the cage over slowly, deliberately, and made a show of bringing it down to my cock. He fastened the ring around the base of my cock and growing balls, and I hated that it felt tight and good.
Then, he brought the cage down. And down. I felt my dick deflate, humiliatingly small, probably not even an inch anymore. He pressed the cage on, and I felt the tingle as my PA formed through it, locking the cage into place. I hated that it felt good. His hand pulled away, and I felt my dick expand to fill the cage, pressing against it, pushing, trying to get out. Impotently trying.
"Look at it. Look at your useless dick. Raise that bull neck of yours and look at what I just did." He was breathing heavily, nostrils still flared, and I could tell he was trying not to look at my armpits.
My body reacted, and part of me thought it would simply be easier if I did what he asked. Willingly. It was easier, thinking I had conscious say in it.
My formerly huge dick was pressed down to the size of a thimble. Maybe half an inch. The glinting metal of my PA through the tip contrasting against the bright pink of the cage. It had to be pink. Below, my balls, swollen. They were at least 20% bigger than before, the size of duck eggs. I thought I could see them shift, and they ached with pleasure.
"Don't ever even think about doing that again," he said. His chest was heaving slightly. Like he was scared, his air of control faltering. But, he was in control, now more than before. I fell back in the bed.
"No, roll over."
Like a dog, I obeyed. He walked around and smacked my balls. I grunted, hard, tensing up. He didn't say anything. I heard a drawer open, then close.
"Look."
He was holding a buttplug. A buttplug with a puppy tail.
"Open."
I opened my mouth, and he pushed it in. I knew where this was going: This was probably the only lube I'd get, so I slobbered as much as I could.
He pulled it out and walked around. I felt him spread my cheeks, and then the sharp, sudden pain of it entering that quickly gave way to pleasure as the large plug settled in. I moaned. I couldn't help it. My hole had been remade to give everyone pleasure, including me.
"You can stay here like that, or come with me and get fucked." He paused. "And it looks like my hunch was right. Your balls are filling. I'm gonna guess something happens if they don't get release, and I'm only going to let you drain them if you follow me. Your choice, of course."
Fuck! That wasn't a real choice! I lay there as long as I felt I could. A growing part of me remembered that I wanted this. I was liking being used. Allen wasn't taking from me, he was giving to me.
I got up, the bed creaking under my mass, my balls shifting under their weight and the weight of the stretcher. I felt the plug shift in me, too, and it felt amazing. I didn't want it to. I couldn't help it. But every shift amplified the feeling coming from my hole, and now that my tiny dick was trapped, my hole was the only thing that felt pleasure. I walked out of the room, hoping I could find him.
Like last night, he was waiting just beyond the door, hidden behind the frame. The glimmer of uncertainty was still there until he saw me, and he grinned. He turned and walked through a few hallways and into another room. I followed. He flipped a switch on the wall, and a few dim lights shone. The walls were dark, the floor padded. Two shelves held various toys, and there was a fuck bench in the middle of the room.
I wasn't stupid. I knew where I was supposed to go. Every shift of my legs, the plug rubbed up and pressed against and massaged things inside of me I never really knew I had. And … maybe I didn't have before.
I lay across the bench and settled, legs spread so my balls could splay out between my corded legs. Head down, looking at the floor.
"That's unexpected." Allen sounded genuinely surprised. I'd not heard that tone from him before.
"What is?"
I felt him pull and I gasped. I would've cum if I could've, if my cock wasn't locked up in this ridiculous pink cage, and if my dick were mine to cum from as I pleased. He'd just yanked the plug out of my hole, and the sensation was unlike anything I'd experienced as stars formed in my vision, and my eyes squinted closed, tightly.
He walked around, and I saw his feet, trailing up to legs covered in short, dark hairs. I licked my lips.
"Look."
I craned my neck up, then pushed myself up against the bench. "I don't understand."
"I put a puppy plug in you. This is a demon tail. It changed. That's new. Maybe a signature." His eyes sparkled a little in the light. He looked at the plug and demon tail coming from it, and he grinned again. He liked to grin, it seemed. Any time I did something he liked – or, my body did something he liked.
I must have had a quizzical expression, because he looked at me and volunteered information: "I told you, I'm fucking bored. You … you are more interesting than all these other distractions I have." He gestured broadly. He looked at me, then back to the plug. "This is interesting. I'll have to ask my dad."
"Your dad?"
He walked over to a shelf and put the plug in an empty spot. He didn't reply as he walked back, the light catching his eyes. He didn't speak as he spat and I felt a wetness at my hole, then a finger. I hissed as it entered, and he withdrew it. I felt the heat from his hand as he beat his cock just a few strokes, then he plunged it in.
It was big. My hole knew it. It struggled to contain it, yet like all the other dicks from last night, my hungry hole managed to find a way. After a few strokes, my hole felt like it was made for Allen's dick, and he must have sensed it, too, because after giving me a few seconds to adjust, he started to pound me. Hard.
I had to brace myself with my hands on the floor, my head down. Then back from the momentum. Back and forth. His dick rubbed over my prostate and through my hole, sending waves of pleasure through me. I felt my head grow warmer, and a tingling sensation, and suddenly my hair was dripping with sweat over my eyes. He reached down and pulled my head back with a fistful of my newly long hair.
I was shocked; I gasped. I expected to cry out in pain, but it didn't hurt at all. It just … felt. Another added to the potpourri of sensations running through my body, from my locked cock and growing balls to my hole that felt like it was tingling with sensation and up through me across my skin and inside my muscles and … just … I moaned. Genuine pleasure, unlike what I felt last night. It was just slightly … different. Everything about this felt good. Every sensation. Every stroke, every thrust, every pull felt good through my body. If this was punishment, maybe it wasn't so bad?
I heard grunting above me as he kept thrusting, and I felt a drop of sweat land on my back. He was working up a sweat pounding me. He let out another grunt as he shoved in, muttering, "So tight. So good. Best hole … made for me."
He was getting pleasure from my hole. My hole – my body that was made to be used. My musk filled the room, and he pounded harder, I felt his dick grow a bit larger in my hole, and I felt every single bit of it. So.fucking.good.
I moaned with him, with his grunts. I pushed back onto his thick, long cock, desperate for it to reach hidden, new places inside me. His hands released my hair and grabbed my waist and I felt owned, like I was his. Another drop of sweat fell on my back, tingling my skin, sliding down. Every sensation, magnified.
My own body was shining with sweat, and I could smell whatever the fae had done. This room was smaller than the bedroom, and the heady smell of sex permeated. It was driving both of us more and more, rutting back and forth as I tried to meet every thrust of his hips.
I felt his strokes grow harder, more staccato. Buried to the hilt and back out so just the tip of his head was at my ring, then slammed back inside me as I pushed back to meet every.single.thrust that drove wave after wave of sensation through my body. My cock tried to grow, I felt it straining, but I ignored it. Maybe that was the point.
But it felt so good. If this is what it felt like to do what my body wanted, why should I try to stop that? Did I even know what I would be fighting for, or against?
I was on autopilot as I kept going back to meet his thrusts, and then his fingers dug more into my sides and he pushed harder, one final push and I felt a bit of heat spread inside me as he collapsed onto my back. Sweat mingling, breathing ragged and fast.
I felt happy. I had done what my body was made to do: Bring a man pleasure. Why fight that?
We laid that way for I don't know how long. I could have gotten up. Shoved his head into my pit and make him tell me everything and do everything. Used the cuffs in here to lock him up, find some clothes – anything – and get away in his car, find the club, local cops, ask for help.
I didn't. I don't know why I didn't.
He stirred, and I felt him lift off my back. His softened cock withdrew from my ass, which sealed shut behind him.
"You can get up."
I pushed off the floor and stood. My hole still tingled from the pounding. It was a good tingle. I wanted to feel it again. From him.
"Wow," he remarked.
His gaze was down towards my crotch. I looked down. My eyes widened.
Between my legs were pendulous testes, a sack easily twice the size it should've been. From duck eggs to oranges. And when I saw it, I realized I had an overwhelming urge to cum. But, I couldn't. They hung there, visibly shifting, quivering, forcing my legs apart. I don't know how they didn't rip off, they were so heavy. I guess this was the curse. Or, blessing.
He reached a hand down slowly and pressed. I moaned. He pushed again into the other side of my balls, and I moaned more loudly. "How does that feel?" he asked.
"It feels so good, but they feel heavy and full. If I—" I stopped. I wasn't sure if I should – could – ask.
He looked at me. It wasn't the grin like before. It was compassion. He reached up and pulled on the tiny cage covering my straining cock. I felt a tingle and release as the PA vanished and the cage came off. My cock followed it, growing up and out to its now-normal huge size.
He flicked the frenum piercing again, and once more, the faint sound of bells filled the room. He cocked his head, listening. I saw the sparkle, just a hint of rainbow, appear in his eyes. "Definitely a signature. My dad'll know." He wasn't talking to me, but that didn't matter.
He knelt and then did something completely unexpected: He licked the tip of my leaking dick, and then he sucked it into his mouth and down throat. All the way. And swallowed, repeatedly, massaging my dick head with his muscles. I threw my head back and moaned. I put my hands gently on his head and pushed him back and forth on my dick, my hips back on auto-pilot. He let me.
He somehow managed to stick his tongue out just a bit around my cock and lick my balls. Just one lick. I shuddered, desperate to cum, to empty my sagging nuts.
I held his head there and moaned, and then I let go. I didn't want to hurt him. He released my cock, a string of drool connecting his lips to its head. I wiped it gently away while he caught his breath, his shapely ass resting on his feet as he leaned back from his kneeling position.
"I guess I have to say it." He looked up at me. I didn't really know what he meant. My dick was throbbing in sync with my heart, the head nodding to him, just a few inches from his face.
He closed his eyes. "Cum."
With a roar, I shot what felt like gallons of cum, surge after surge coming out, my balls pumping furiously, painting his face with the white, creamy smell of sex mixed with a hint of cloves and cinnamon.
I kept shooting. I don't know how long. He stayed there, eyes closed, breathing in the aroma of my fluids and our mutual sex. I was incoherent, shuddering, spraying.
Out of breath.
Allen just knelt there. I don't know how my own knees didn't give out.
When I was done and had caught my breath, I sank down, my knees finally did give out. I looked at him, and he smelled like my sex.
I wiped my cum from his face. His hand reached out, and he felt my balls. I felt him fiddling, and then a release of pressure: He'd undone the stretcher. I leaned over and licked the cum off his cheek. Then I dared: I shifted slightly and kissed him.
He hesitated just a moment, then I felt him kiss back. His lips parted just a bit, and I pressed my tongue in, carrying my cream with the long muscle as I pressed into his mouth to find his tongue. I caressed it with mine, painting his tongue with my cum. I then withdrew, kissed again, and pulled back a bit.
His eyes were closed, and his lips shiny with cum and saliva, his mouth ever-so-slightly open. I could still see some of my cum smeared on his face and torso. And in his hair. He didn't seem to care.
He opened his eyes, blinking. He looked up into mine, and for just a moment his face didn't shift. No grin, no calculations, no swagger. He was just a guy, on his knees, on a padded floor, looking up at me with a half-remembered kiss playing across his lips.
"That was … intense."
I nodded.
He stood up, just a bit shakily but trying to hide it. I followed.
He looked at me. "I'm not forcing you to stay, not if you don't want to. What happened to you is probably permanent. But I think we could have a lot of fun. I have friends who'd like to meet you."
He looked directly into my eyes, and there was the slight shimmer again, just at the limits of what I could see, deep inside his eyes. "It's your choice. I could give you some cash and a ride into town if you want."
I looked around the room, and I looked at him. This guy who'd probably need me to go into the liquor store for him. Who had a Porsche and what very well could be an original Picasso and a playroom and … none of it was enough. A guy who'd gone to a club on a freezing night, hoping to find something interesting. And, he had.
I looked more closely at him. Not at his cock. At the red mark still on his cheek. At his lips, the slight quiver beneath the bravado that he thought he was hiding. I looked in his eyes – that faint shimmer that meant he could see things other people couldn't.
He'd left his car keys where I could've taken them. He'd waited behind every door to see if I'd follow. Every test of control had also been a question, one he was too afraid to ask me directly.
And me – I could feel my balls already starting to fill again, the collar warm against my neck, and the phantom tingle of my wrecked hole. My body wasn't mine anymore, and maybe it never would be again. But that kiss had been mine; I'd chosen it. And he kissed back like he was starving for it.
Maybe we each had something the other needed. Or, maybe I was rationalizing again: My body was finding reasons for my mind to agree. I couldn't tell the difference anymore. I'm not sure it mattered.
In the end, there was only one word to say.
"Yes."
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