Sex in C Major

He was made to watch as his master had sex with his boyfriend, slow and loving on the sofa, his master's thrusts so gentle and idle that they made Stefan hurt with the need to touch them both. That old fantasy, of his master then turning to him and beating him, hurting him, fucking him in dark and sordid ways to keep the vile acts away from this unsullied partner, rose up again, and Stefan could only whimper when his master's hips stuttered, and he came with a breathy sigh and a murmur in their other language.

He was made to eat his lunch from his master's hands, and suck Daz's fingers clean at the end of the meal-only to be sent to crawl across the carpet to Yannis at the piano and clean his hands as well. They talked over his head, Yannis looking coldly amused, and Stefan felt a burning shame at whatever it was they could be saying, but obeyed all the same.

As the evening drew in, the sky outside beginning to darken, Stefan was stripped of the belt and his cuffs. He was blindfolded and left kneeling naked on the rug. He thought they left the room, but there could be cameras. Or he could simply be wrong. So he clutched his hands behind his back, to quell the urge, and concentrated not on his aching cock, but the promise of the test. The last few orgasms he had been allowed had been so intense that he'd fainted. At the end of the test, he would be rewarded.

If he passed.

And he couldn't touch himself if he wanted to pass.

Eventually, one of them came back. He was pulled to his feet and walked up the stairs by hands he suspected-but was still not certain were Yannis'. He knew the soft squish of the carpet, and the sink of the mattress, to know that he was in the master bedroom. He was positioned on his knees, stomach and chest pressed down over a wooden chest or something like it, and his neck placed into what felt like a steel collar wrapped in thick, soft fabric. It snapped shut around him like stocks, and when he tugged experimentally, it didn't budge from whatever it was attached to. Rather, the bed shivered under him, and his bare arse was slapped hard.

He stilled.

The hand lingered, then disappeared. His knees were locked into a spreader, uncomfortably wide, leaving him relying on the chest not to fall. A leather strap was secured over his back, tying him down to the wood. He reached blindly with his hands, and found that he had been attached to the footboard, so he wound his fingers around the bars, and waited for the cuffs.

They didn't come.

Instead, slick fingers began to open him up-first his arse, and then his cunt. They were blunt and wide, stretching swallowly but pushing deeper, and he whimpered when three fingers were sheathed completely inside of him, and began to fuck in sharp, short thrusts.

Then fingers began to trace around his lips, and Stefan realised someone was in front of him as well.

"What do you want?"

The voice washed over his ear. Hot. Close. Dangerous. Stefan swallowed, and darted his tongue out to lap at the fingers pressing down on his lower lip.

"To please you," he whispered.

A thumb was hooked into his mouth, pushing down on his tongue. He closed his lips around the knuckle and sucked, whimpering as the hand fucking him from behind worked itself deeper, and began to stretch and twist inside. Lips were brushing his ear.

"Who?"

Stefan sucked hard on the thumb, and it was removed with a pop.

"Both of you," he breathed.

The hand inside was withdrawn. Stefan whimpered, then gasped as more slickness was rubbed around his arse, and the hand returned to stretch that, too. He struggled to relax, the spreader pulling his knees too far apart, the unstable chest and mattress making him twitch and tense with every movement. When the hand began to thrust, it hurt, and Stefan felt tears prickle at his eyelids.

"Does it hurt?"

The voice was silky-smooth in his ear. Threatening.

Stefan whimpered.

"Does it?"

"Y-yes, Sir."

It was his master's voice. His master's teeth that gripped the lobe of his ear. His master's fingers playing with his lips. Which meant...

Yannis' hand pulled free. Stefan took a shaky breath-and lost it again when the tip of a plug was pressed to his arse. He reeled as it was twisted in. Merciless. Unrelenting. It forced in, wider and wider the deeper it sank, and Stefan clawed at the chest underneath, scrabbling at the leather strap with his nails. He needed to lift his hips. He needed to push forward with it. He needed-

It settled.