Sex in C Major

It hadn't been enough then, without a master and sex and a life.

And it certainly wasn't enough now.

"I can't wait that long," he begged. "Please, just-just something, anything, we the bus station, if we took the bus, then maybe "

"You'll wait until we get home," Daz said sharply. He was practically towing Stefan by the hand.

"But-"

In the mouth of an alley, Daz suddenly turned on him. Clamped a hand over his mouth. Slammed him into the brickwork.

A spark of fear and lust bloomed in Stefan's veins, and he froze.

"What makes you think you can demand things?" Daz hissed.

Then his eyes narrowed.

He glanced down the narrow passage.

Then: "Fine."

Stefan yelped as he was dragged into the alley. A hand gripped him by the throat, and he clawed at the arm. He was shoved to the floor, crashing to his hands and knees in the filth, and his jeans and underwear ripped down to his thighs in rough jerks.

"Wait!"

A hand smashed into the back of his neck, shoving his face against the floor. Arse naked and in the air, the thrill of exposed vulnerability was sharp and shocking. Clothes rustled. Skin pressed. And-

Stefan moaned as he was filled. As that hot, hard cock sank into him, cleaving him in one long, smooth burn. And then whimpered as it began to fuck him in short, brutal strokes. As Daz's hips smashed into him. As he was buckled, and his face dragged along the cold, stinking dirt.

As he was filled.

Used.

Oh God, finally, finally.

The hand squeezed. Stefan gulped on fetid air and quieted to a whimper. Closed his eyes. Breathed. Felt the incredible shift and slide inside of him and waited, praying, hoping, for something more. Anything. A reprieve. A reward. If he was good if he was good....

Empty. The cock pulled out. He was shoved flat into the floor. A weight settled over his thighs.

Spitting.

"Fuck!"

Spit-fucked. Oh God, he was going to be it would hurt, it would hurt—

Stefan howled as he was breached and then it was muffled on his master's palm. The emptiness was torn away. The drifting was cut off, and he was slammed into the world in humiliating pain. He sobbed as he was finally fucked, and as his own cock could finally-finally-fuck in turn. It slid against the wet ground. Caught on broken brickwork. Scraped on stone. It hurt, hurt even more than the rigid cock that was tearing him apart. And he could do nothing. Would do nothing. He needed it, needed all of it-more of it, even. And even as he hurt, even as the tiny part of him that could rationalise any of it said he would regret it all at home when his master would undoubtedly fuck him again, there was a bigger part of Stefan that simply sagged and begged for more.

He sobbed at the hot rush of cum inside, and cried when Daz pulled out. The alley spun. The dampness began to seep into the back of his jacket.

"Finish yourself off."

"P-please-"

"Fine."

His jeans were dragged up, and Stefan shook his head. "No! No, I'll-I'll do it, I'll-"

"Get the fuck on with it, then."

Stefan whimpered as he began to massage his cock. He could feel grit and dirt. His hands were smeared in filth. The air stunk. And he was lying in it, cum leaking from his arse, his dick hard and pulsing in his hand. Daz stood up. Planted a boot between his thighs. Threatening. Too close.

"Get. On. With. It."

Stefan rubbed hard. Began to thrust into his own hand. Felt the slippery slide of cum as he clenched. The hollow throb of his cunt-stretched open, but not properly used.

Wanting more.

Fuck, he still wanted more. He wanted-wanted-

He came on a plea, as he wanted there to be another fuck, and knew by the chuckle that his owner knew what he'd been thinking.

"Jerking it in the bins. You'll do anything for cock, won't you?"

"Y-yes, Sir..."

"Get dressed."

Stefan fumbled to pull his clothes into place. He stank. His underwear was wet. His arse ached.

"Walk. When we get home, I'll hose you off in the garage. And if you whinge again like that next time, I'll strip you naked and fuck you on those bricks until you've got road rash. Understand me?"

"Yes, Sir."

Stefan filed it away. Took it as a whole new lesson as he was towed by the wrist back into the street, limping in his master's wake. As he felt the wet burn inside, and the loose shift of it all working free. As he felt...better.

Next time-beg more. 47

Daz booked a holiday that afternoon.