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(k)nightly explorations

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Clark startled awake, jolting upright and panting harshly from the last dredges of adrenaline and what he could last remember of his situation. He had been abducted by the Knight, the newest crime lord to have decided to make a home in Metropolis’s underworld. He had been kidnapped and… and… Clark swallowed, pushing the memories of his captivity aside for now.

He glanced warily around the room he was in. He was… he was actually back at his rented apartment in Metropolis? He blinked a few times, unsure if this was some sort of trick. But no, he was indeed sitting on the worn but comfortable couch in his small single-room apartment. How had he gotten back? The last thing Clark remembered was kneeling in front of his kidnapper, who did something to knock Clark out, and then he was here in his flat.

It felt highly unlikely, but Clark would much rather entertain the thought that his ordeal with the Knight was something his frazzled brain had cooked up after a hectic day at work. That it was all just a crazy nightmare rather than something that had actually happened. He ran a hand over his face, grimacing as he felt something crusty flaking off his skin. Bringing his hand down, he saw clumps of white material… and knew, with a sinking certainty, he hadn’t dreamt up being face-fucked and then ejaculated on at the hands of the Knight.

Heat flooded his cheeks, and now that he was more aware, he could feel how uncomfortably his underwear was sticking to his crotch. Enough time had passed that all the come covering his nether regions had to be dry now. It would be hell to get himself cleaned up.

But even more worryingly, now that he had established that he had indeed been a captive of the Knight, was that the Knight apparently knew where he lived and had the means to get past the front door. A crime lord knew where he lived and… shit, was this why the other man wasn’t concerned that Clark had seen how he looked like? Because he knew all there was to know about Clark (and he tried very hard to ignore the other implications of that for now), and could easily dispose of Clark whenever he pleased? Was there, even now, someone keeping watch on Clark’s apartment, ready to get rid of him on the Knight’s command?

Taking a deep breath, Clark tried to calm himself. There was no sign to indicate that he was in immediate danger. The Knight had clearly looked him up, just as Clark had been trying to look into the newest crime lord in Metropolis, and Clark imagined it wasn’t that difficult to turn up his place of residence. Furthermore, despite all reason, he actually believed the Knight to be telling the truth that he wasn’t going to have Clark murdered. Although he still wasn’t sure if it was a good thing that the Knight seemed to want to get in contact with him again. Possibly for more sexual debauchment.

There was no point to dwelling on it now. He did a quick check of his door, ignoring the disturbing feeling that ran through him when he realized that there were no signs of forced entry, and then locked and bolted it for good measure. He was going to have to get his locks changed as soon as possible. One thing settled, he now needed a long shower to clean himself up thoroughly, and then he was going to stick this entire set of clothing into the trash. Even if they could be salvaged, Clark didn’t think he could wear them again and not think about what had happened with the mob boss.

When he was done showering and disposing of his ruined clothing, he entered his bedroom, prepared to go to sleep and try to put everything that had happened tonight to the back of his mind. He stopped short when he noticed a slim, white smartphone lying innocuously on top of his bedcovers. He didn’t recognize it, and nobody had been over to his place recently to have misplaced their phone in his bedroom of all places. With a mounting foreboding, he picked up the phone and activated it.

The image on the lock screen was colored monochromatically, bearing a stylized font of the letter ‘B’ which formed the focal point for the medieval coat of arms design that framed it. Heart in his throat now, Clark thumbed aside the lock screen and nearly dropped the phone as his face flamed crimson instantly.

There, on screen, was a high-resolution image of Clark himself. He was kneeling between white-clad trouser legs, his face faintly glistening with a clear, sticky fluid, color flushed high in his cheeks, and his mouth caught open in mid-whine. He looked desperately aroused in the picture, eyes looking in the general direction of the camera but they were glazed over, unaware that his wanton behavior was being recorded. The Clark captured in the photo looked ready to do anything, no matter how disgraceful, to get what he wanted.

(Clark recalled, quite clearly, that he had indeed debased himself even more to get what he wanted.)

Slowly, still staring disbelievingly at what he was seeing, he swiped his finger to the side to reveal the next photo.

It was worse.

The photo in question featured Clark with his reddened lips stretched obscenely wide around the base of the Knight’s large cock. His hair was mussed from the hand that had been gripping it tight, and his expression, oh god. He looked completely blissed out, as if on some sort of drug high, to have a cock buried to the hilt inside of his throat. He looked like he would kneel there forever with no complaints, as long as he had a huge cock to suck on.

(Clark knew, that at the very moment preserved by this photo, he had been more than content to just kneel at his master’s feet and be used as a warm, wet hole.)

Shit, he knew that the Knight had taken photos of him in various states of debauchment, yet he never expected that he would see them for himself. But it made sense. His captor had let him leave but had kept him on an invisible leash in exchange. The phone was the way the Knight was going to “keep in touch”, as well as a source of blackmail. Clark had no doubt that it would be futile to delete the photos inside this phone, because they wouldn’t be the only copy – the other man still had the originals in his own phone. Plus, he had the feeling the Knight wanted him to have these lewd photos as a reminder and as proof of what had happened between them, and he would probably be very displeased if Clark had them deleted.

He didn’t want to know what would happen if he provoked the other man. For all his cordial demeanor, the Knight was still the ruthless leader of Metropolis’s newest criminal organization, and Clark suspected his punishments could get very creative and very painful.

Swiftly, he minimized the photo gallery app and turned the screen off. Then he looked around his room for a suitable hiding place, before finally deciding to hide the phone in his desk drawer, underneath piles of notepads and other miscellaneous paraphernalia. He knew there had to be way more photos sitting inside the electronic album, each and every one of them depicting him in various states of shameful lewdness, but even morbid curiosity had its limits. Plus, he was already feeling a low stir of arousal deep in his groin and he had debased himself more than enough for one night, if not for a lifetime.

With unsteady feet, he covered the short distance to his bed and buried himself under the covers, as if they could hide him from the things that had already happened. He closed his eyes, determined to fall asleep. But sleep eluded him, his mind chasing itself in circles as he thought about what had happened to him and then tried to stop thinking about it because it was making his libido perk up again. It was through sheer force of will that he didn’t become aroused, and in the end, after a lot of tossing and turning, he eventually fell into a restless, unrewarding sleep.


The next few weeks passed with a sense of disquiet hanging over Clark that just wouldn’t go away no matter how much time had passed since that fateful night. He could momentarily forget about it when he was working, but when he returned home, it would come back in full force once again. The mere presence of the white phone added to his anxiety despite it having stayed silent throughout the time he had had it.

No messages. No calls. Nothing.

It was almost as if the Knight had forgotten about him, which should’ve been a relief. But the presence of the phone, even hidden away in his drawer where it had stayed for most of the time since Clark first put it there, made it impossible for Clark to forget the crime lord. It was as if the phone was calling to him whenever he was near his desk, and he would eventually give in to take it out of his drawer and look at it. To check if there was any contact from the Knight.

But perhaps worse than a potential call from the Knight, was the inerasable knowledge that the phone’s hard drive contained photos that captured his brazen lewdness, the way he had been so readily transformed into an insatiable slut at the hands of an amoral mob boss. Clark could no longer easily escape the few facts about himself that had been brought to light over the course of that particular night. Not with the phone sitting there with photographic evidence to the contrary of the way he’d always perceived himself just waiting to be unveiled.

Clark was not one for casual sex, most of the time. He did have the occasional one-night stand, but he normally preferred that some actual feelings be involved when he spent the night with someone. Otherwise, he was usually happy to get stress relief with some quality alone time. But for the weeks since then, he hadn’t been quite able to destress from masturbating.

He would be stroking himself, getting into the mood for a nice and relaxed session, and then memories of that night would intrude. He would remember the way the Knight had taken charge and then taken him apart. While that got him hot and hard so fast he was almost dizzy with the speed of the change, he would also feel an equal amount of shame. He would then force himself to push those memories aside, and then bring himself off perfunctorily and as fast as possible, for fear that he would lose himself in those graphic, erotic memories again. The resulting orgasms were… unspectacular, to say the least, and always left him wanting for something more. Something he hadn’t been able to reach since that encounter with the Knight, and he had eventually given up on finding relief that way.

It was late on a Friday night, after a long and frustrating day at work where nothing seemed to go right for him since the moment he’d set foot out of his flat, when Clark finally gave in to the silent but insistent siren call of temptation from the phone. After he had gotten home and had a quick, simple dinner, Clark marched into his room and dug the phone out of his drawer. He needed a distraction from the hell of the day he had suffered through, and after having failed to release his frustrations and stress through masturbation in recent weeks, he desperately needed to obtain some relief tonight. It was enough to make him turn to the one thing he’d sworn not to use, no matter how easily it would’ve accomplished the job.

With the phone out on his desk, he swiftly stripped away his work clothes and underwear, throwing them in the direction of his laundry basket, leaving himself completely bare. Then he picked up the phone again and settled himself down on his bed, leaning against the pillows he had piled up against his headboard. Taking a deep breath, Clark switched on the screen, letting himself stare at the coat of arms symbol for a few moments before flicking the phone open to the home screen and then pulling up the photo gallery.

As he had not exited the album before closing the app previously, the gallery opened up straight to the last photo he had looked at. The photo of him kneeling submissively at the Knight’s feet, mouth and throat stuffed full of the man’s thick cock and looking blissfully sated and utterly content in that position. As he looked at the picture, Clark could almost feel the weight and heft of the Knight inside of him again, feel the stretch of his jaw and his lips (cocksucker lips) around the girth of that darkly delicious member. He could recall the pleasure that had permeated every part of him just from holding his master’s cock in his throat and being praised for being a good boy, a good cockslut.

Tearing his eyes momentarily away from the screen, Clark looked down at himself. Sure enough, despite not having touched himself, his cock had become erect. Shame burned his cheeks red, but just like that night, it only fed the flames of his burgeoning arousal. Hesitantly, Clark moved to swipe his thumb over the screen to bring up the next picture.

The next image made a renewed wave of humiliation, intertwined with arousal, course through his veins to pool in his groin and stiffen his erect cock further. In the photo, his face was absolutely covered in copious amounts of come. White drops nestled in his black hair, translucent strands clung to his eyebrows, threatening to fall into his eyes. His cheeks and forehead had been messily sprayed with come, which showed signs of dripping downwards as his head was tilted at an angle that best displayed the mess on his face. The milky fluid contrasted the most starkly, most lewdly on his flushed cheeks, highlighting how red they were from arousal and humiliation, as well as on his swollen, parted lips. The redness of his lips also drew further attention to the contents in his open mouth: a pool of his master’s come was collected there, further confirmation of his status as a cockslut. His clothes were all rumpled from the rough face-fucking he’d been subjected to prior to this photo being taken, and Clark could just make out the hard bulge of his clothed groin right at the bottom of the photo. He looked like he had been used hard and good for the Knight’s pleasure. The evidence of his debauchment and enjoyment was absolute. There was no way to argue that he had been a reluctant party to the proceedings with the way he was obviously posed for the photo, and how despite the naked embarrassment in his eyes, he was completely aware of what was happening and was excited by it.

Clark clearly remembered the moment this photo had been taken; it had been his first lucid moment since the Knight had started taking photos to commemorate the night.

He remembered that the blend of humiliation and arousal hit him like a sucker-punch when he noticed what was happening, remembered how the other man had been amused by how out of it Clark had been during his previous photographic exploits… remembered how despite the burning shame at his wantonness, he still did as he had been instructed and let his master take shot after shot of lewd, indecent photos.

He also remembered the feeling of letting the Knight’s come sit in his mouth, holding it there dutifully until he had been told otherwise. Remembered how the flavor of his master’s rich essence had settled into his taste buds, how it became an exquisite, unique taste that he couldn’t get enough of. Remembered how grateful he had felt when he was granted permission to swallow the precious mouthful he had, to be able to drink his master’s come as if it were nectar from the gods. Remembered how the smooth slide of the thick, creamy fluid felt like ambrosia running down his throat, how he had secretly wanted more of it and had been so glad that he had been allowed to clean the last traces of come from his master’s cock afterwards.

Clark was completely flushed now, his blush spreading from mid-chest to the tips of his ears. It was a potent blend of arousal and humiliation that revved his libido to new heights, making his heart pound and pre-come stream in rivulets down his erection without having even properly touched himself since he’d gotten comfortable on his bed. Well, he thought wryly, on the bright side, he shouldn’t have any issues with achieving a satisfying orgasm and thus destress that way tonight.

The subsequent photo in the pornographic compilation was one that Clark, once again, had no recollection of it having been taken. He wasn’t sure if having knowledge of when the various photos had been taken added to his humiliation or not, but this one… Oh god.

It was of him leaning heavily on the Knight’s white, trouser-clad leg, his mouth opened in the shape of a wide, round ‘O’, a scream of intense orgasmic pleasure having been captured by the camera at that precise moment. Clark could almost hear how he’d sounded back then, the litany of moans that streamed out of his mouth as he orgasmed. He looked utterly wrecked and completely depraved in the photo: come-stained face, wide and glassy eyes, and a gun contained obscenely in his sloppy, drooling mouth. A gun which he had been fellating to achieve his own orgasm when friction on his cock wasn’t enough to do the trick. It had, shamefully, been a combination of fellating the gun like a desperate whore and the Knight’s idle musings about whether Clark would agree to being fucked anally with a gun if that was the only way he would be allowed to orgasm that had finally hurtled Clark over the edge and free-falling into the fiercest, most mind-blowing climax that he’d ever experienced.

So, this picture had clearly been taken when Clark was out of his mind with pleasure from his intense orgasm and was in no way able to even articulate his name, much less take note of a camera phone capturing his shameful behavior for all and sundry to see. Perhaps he had been mid-orgasm then, for he now recalled that the Knight had professed to wanting to know the expression he would make when he climaxed. Well, they both certainly knew how he looked in the throes of orgasm now. Clark’s cock pulsed right then, as if his body remembered the intensity of that past orgasm and also serving to remind him that he had, thus far, completely neglected his straining erection.

For all that Clark had wanted to find release tonight in a bid to distract himself from the disaster of the day, it was true that he hadn’t even begun to give himself even the slightest form of physical gratification. His cock had become painfully erect just by looking at these dirty pictures of himself, his nipples had hardened to points from both arousal and the cooler room air but no, not yet. He wanted his orgasm to wash away all the worries and frustrations that he had, and he had learnt that to be able to achieve that, he had to hold off pleasuring himself for as long as possible.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Clark soldiered on.

Next up was a picture of him partially unclothed this time. He was kneeling upright, trousers pulled down to mid-thigh, shirt ends held up to ensure that nothing important was being obscured and hips jutting out obscenely to better show off his sopping wet, sky-blue briefs.

Clark felt his face heat up again at the memory of those briefs. They had been absolutely sodden with his come, and he could still recall the obscene way his excess come swirled and moved to coat his groin and ass whenever he shifted while still wearing them. He could also remember what it had been like when he’d finally removed them in his own bathroom. They had been tacky with dried come and smelled so strongly of sex that Clark had bundled the briefs into an airtight bag and then into a black trash bag before he could throw it out. He did not want to think of anyone smelling the strong odor of sex and discovering his shameful secret, even though rationally, it was unlikely that anyone would even be able to connect the briefs to him.

He quickly moved on to the next picture, and realized it was possibly even worse.

It was the picture which he had remembered protesting about. It had ultimately been a futile endeavor, but the resulting picture. Oh god, he had not expected the way it would turn out.

The Knight had captured him biting on his lower lip, something he knew he did when embarrassed or when he was feeling uncomfortable. However, with the provocative way he had been made to pose (hips thrust out, a hand teasingly placed on the waistband of his sloppy briefs as if getting ready to pull them down at any moment), when all the elements were put together, it made Clark look coquettish, as if he were trying to seduce the photographer into having their way with him. A cheeky, greedy little cockslut who tempted men to satisfy his own insatiable hunger for cock. The photo would probably not look out of place on a more tasteful porn magazine, and Clark could not believe that it was himself he was looking at.

Hurriedly, he swiped his thumb to bring up the final photo in the collection.

The last image was a close up. Framed front and centre was Clark’s cock and balls, held gently in one of his hands as if presenting them for inspection. Pearly white strands of come coated his soft cock in thick, messy trails, the result of coming more than he ever had before inside his pants. Even so, Clark could see a faint redness to the skin of his cock, a result of slight irritation to his skin from having been deliberately overstimulated by the Knight prior to the picture being taken. He shivered now at the memory of the unforgiving ministrations of his master on his oversensitive cock, remembering the pain laced with pleasure that each press of his master’s shoe had brought upon him. Slightly out of focus behind his exposed genitals were his light blue, come-soaked briefs, and they provided an almost artistic, erotic juxtaposition against the white creamy semen decorating his cock and balls. He had made such a great mess in his underwear, so much that his come had overflowed onto the floor and Clark had had to lick up his dirty mess.

By the end of tonight, Clark was probably also going to have to clean up another huge mess if the way his cock was positively glistening with pre-come was any indication. He shivered as a fleeting thought crept through his mind, of cleaning up tonight’s mess with his mouth even without anyone commanding him to, and then hurriedly pushed it to the back of his mind. No, no. He wasn’t going to do that. He wasn’t.

With one last look at his come-coated genitals, Clark set the phone aside. His cock was so hard and wet, the head reddened and engorged with blood, that Clark felt that the slightest careless touch would be liable to cause come to spurt out of him in never-ending jets. Yes, right now, he should have no issues in finally achieving a gratifying orgasm.

Closing his eyes, he leaned more into his pillows and then finally let his right hand stray down to his genitals. He cupped his balls with his hand, hissing slightly at the contact. They were full and slightly tender, more than ready to empty the load stored in them. He spent a few moments gently toying with them, rolling them around in his hand before letting go to take a firm hold of his weeping cock.

Pleasure shot through him like a lightning bolt, searing his nerve endings and pulling a loud groan from his throat. Fuck, it felt so good. He was quickly able to find a good, smooth rhythm, the generous amount of pre-come he was producing easily lubricating the way, producing slick, wet noises each time he rolled his hips to push his cock into his firm grip. He probably wouldn’t even need the lube tucked away in his bedside drawer.

This time, when his mind wandered to the memories of his encounter with the Knight, he let it happen. He moaned aloud as he remembered the way the Knight had lavished him with filthy praise, and Clark could imagine that the Knight was here with him right now, pleased by his lewd behavior. He would surely whisper even more dirty commands into Clark’s ears, and Clark knew he would obey all of them unquestioningly because at the end of it, he would be rewarded with a spectacular orgasm.

Subconsciously, his other hand slid down the side of his hips, past his balls to reach his perineum. Half remembering what it had felt like when the Knight’s shoe had rubbed against him there, Clark used two fingers from his left hand to press firmly onto the sensitive skin there.

Stars exploded on the back of his eyelids as pleasure curled his toes and jack-knifed his hips upwards to push his cock frantically into his fist. After a split second’s hesitation, he proceeded to spread his legs wide and pull his knees up to his chest so that he could reach down more easily. Once he was carefully balanced, he immediately returned his fingers to rub at that particular spot on his perineum, using the pre-come from his freshly leaking cock to ease any potential chafing, intent on chasing after that intense feeling as he used both hands to pleasure himself. It was something he had never done before, and Clark could only dazedly wonder why he hadn’t thought to be more creative in the past when he masturbated.

“Look at you. Knees spread wide to expose your dripping cock and slutty hole. You like giving a show, don’t you?”

It was as if he could actually hear the Knight whispering into his ears in his low, sexy voice, and the imagined words echoing in his mind made him whimper and whine.

He was putting on a show even though there was nobody around to see him. But just the feeling of being so exposed was doing things to him that brought his lust to greater heights, pushing him that much closer to his climax, and so he couldn’t stop. The fact that he was acting so horny and desperate when there wasn’t anyone around only added to his humiliation which fed into his twisted arousal.

“Don’t neglect your little hole now, hmm? Go on, touch it. Play with it.”

As if on command, Clark gathered more pre-come on his fingers and slid them down until he touched the rim of his asshole. He rubbed his wet fingers gently around the tight sphincter, wetting the skin around it, trying to get himself to relax. It also felt exceedingly good to be doing that, to play with his ass. When he thought he was sufficiently relaxed, he gathered up more pre-come and then placed his index finger lightly over his twitching hole.

Oh god, he had never done this before, had never thought that he would even want to do this. To get off while fingering his own asshole. His stomach fluttered at the thought and his face flamed brighter in embarrassment. But his sudden attack of the nerves and shame did nothing to quench the raging fires of his lust. His cock throbbed, spilling out another wet stream of pre-come that squelched obscenely in the confines of the fist he still held loosely around his shaft.

“Go on, boy. Your virgin asshole wants to be breached. You can feel it clenching around air, can’t you? Give it something to clench on.”

It was embarrassingly true. He had never experienced sexual pleasure anally before, but it seemed as if his body wanted it all the same. His tight hole was clenching spasmodically around air, feeling strangely empty despite it being its normal state. He let his index finger press firmer down onto the twitching rim and almost choked on air at the gut punch of pleasure that rocketed through his nerves from that little, tentative touch. Fuck. His asshole was sensitive, very sensitive. He was almost afraid to find out what pushing a finger in would do to his senses, but the temptation to reach another plane of pleasure, to blank his mind of his worries was too great to resist. Biting on his lower lip, Clark prepared himself to finally breach his untouched asshole with his finger.

A ringing noise suddenly pierced through the quiet and Clark jolted, eyes snapping open in shock. It sounded like a phone’s ringtone, but it wasn’t one he was familiar with. Then his gaze fell onto the white phone on his bed, the phone that had come from the Knight.

It was ringing. The screen was flashing to show that he had an incoming call from a contact simply named “B”.

Clark swallowed and tried to get his rapid breathing under control. He did not want to sound like he had been in the middle of masturbating when he answered the phone. He didn’t want to imagine what the Knight would make of it. When he finally felt that he had himself more or less under control, he reached out a shaky hand for the phone and thumbed the ‘Receive Call’ icon.


The Knight’s deep, confident voice came out from the speaker, sending an involuntary shiver down Clark’s spine. “Good evening, Mr Kent. I’m sorry for not contacting you earlier. Work has, regrettably, been rather busy of late.”

“T-that’s… quite alright…”

“…you sound a bit breathless, Mr Kent. Am I… interrupting you?”

Clark cursed mentally but tried to keep his voice steady this time. “No, no… you must be… imagining things.”

“Really? So you aren’t breathless because you were lying in bed with a hand wrapped around your cock, trying to get off?”

Clark’s breath hitched audibly and from the momentary pause on the other side of the phone, knew he had failed the little test the Knight had put forth.

“Or perhaps you were just getting started? Looking at those lewd photos of yourself and imagining being covered in come again… only this time, you’ll paint your face with your own come instead, hmm?”

He gasped at the Knight’s filthy words, wondering a little hysterically how the Knight knew exactly what he’d been doing, even as he felt an echoing throb from his still hard cock. Goddamn it, the call hadn’t dampened his libido, not even a tiny bit. Now, it appeared that just hearing the Knight’s voice and listening to his filthy descriptions was making his traitorous body even more excited and ready to burst. Nobody had ever had such an effect on him before, and it discomfited him to know that he was reacting this way to a crime lord.


“Don’t lie to me, Mr Kent,” the Knight cautioned, his voice carrying a hint of steel now. “Were you masturbating when I called?”


“And did you get all hot and bothered looking at those lovely photos of your slutty self on the phone I gave you?”


“Do you remember that I promised to milk your naughty cock dry one day? Would you like me to make good on that tonight?”

Clark swallowed, closing his eyes at the imagery that the Knight’s words provoked, feeling a haze settle in his mind. His voice was hoarse but meek when he found the wherewithal to answer.

“…yes, sir. Please…

His master chuckled lowly. “Good boy. Do as I say, and you’ll be taken care of. I promise.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Wonderful. Now go to your cupboard and open it. I’ve left a gift for you.”

Slowly, Clark got off his bed and headed to his cupboard. His erect cock swayed heavily between his legs with each step, and he was acutely conscious of the way it hung full and unfulfilled, begging to be touched and granted relief. But his master had promised to taken care of him, and thus far, his master had delivered on his promises and then some. A distant, faraway part of Clark’s mind was alarmed at the idea that the Knight, or one of his lackeys, had broken into his home again after he’d changed his locks, but it was irrelevant now. His master would take care of him, was taking care of him, and that was what was important. Pulling open his cupboard, he found a simple white gift box lying on top of his folded trousers.

“Do you see it?”

“I do, sir.”

“Take it out of your cupboard. I want you kneeling on your bed before you open it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Carefully, Clark removed the box and carried it back to his bed and placed it gently down. Then he clambered onto the bed himself, kneeling up on his knees first and then settling back to sit on his haunches.

“I’m on the bed, sir.”

“Good. Spread your knees if you aren’t already doing that. I want your cock nicely on display.”

“Y-yes, sir,” Clark replied with a blush as he pushed his knees further apart so his genitals were framed by the vee made by his thighs.

“Good boy. Put the phone on speaker. You’ll need both hands soon enough.”

Clark drew the phone away from his ear and pressed the speaker option. Then he set the phone down in front of him before saying, “It’s on speaker now, sir.”

“Open up your present, boy. Tell me what you see.”

Slowly, heart pounding with a mix of excitement and wariness, Clark reached out with both hands for the box. He undid the silver ribbon with a deft tug, and then lifted the cover of the box aside. Unbidden, a gasp rose in his throat.

Inside the box, resting on a pristine, white sash, was a black, leather collar. The buckle was facing Clark, and it was in the shape of the coat of arms symbol that made up the lock screen on the phone. He had been suspecting it, but now, this was definite proof that the symbol was a mark of the Knight. The collar was his master’s way of branding him as the Knight’s property.

“T-there’s a collar… with your symbol on it,” he said.

“Yes. I had it made pretty much the morning after the night we met,” his master said, sounding very pleased. “You would look beautiful with it around your neck. Everyone will know that you belong to me then. Do you like it, boy?”

“I… I do, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Do you want to put it on, boy?”

“Yes, sir. Please sir, may I?”

“Mmm, so polite. You may. On one condition.”

Oh god, what did his master want him to do? While Clark had never worn a collar before, he was already imagining how the supple leather would feel around his throat, how the metal of the buckle would be cold against his vulnerable skin until his body heat warmed it. He would be thoroughly owned by his master with that collar, and… and he wanted it. Badly.

“Please sir, anything.”

“So eager. Tell me exactly what you were doing before I called. Then you can wear my collar.”

Clark flushed. He knew it was perfectly normal to masturbate, but to him, it was a private matter, not something usually shared. Plus, having to describe exactly what he had been doing to get himself all worked up as well as what he had been planning on doing to achieve his climax to his master of all people… It was doubly embarrassing. But he would do it.

“I was getting myself off in bed, sir. I needed a distraction from a bad day at work. So, after dinner, I stripped down and… and started to look at the dirty pictures of myself.”

“Did you get aroused seeing how indecently you were behaving that night we met?”

“Yes. I… I got completely hard without touching myself… and by the time I got to the last photo… my cock was so wet.”

“And you still hadn’t touched yourself.”

“No, I hadn’t touched myself… at all,” Clark said quietly, as if it were a shameful confession.

“Dirty boy. What did you do next?”

“Then I played with my balls for a bit… ohh, they were so full, sir, like… like they were going to pop any minute. When I finally stroked my cock, and it felt so good, sir.”

“You had better not be touching yourself without permission now, boy.”

Clark shook his head rapidly, even though he knew his master wouldn’t be able to see it. “Oh no, no sir. I’m not touching myself.”

“Good,” his master responded approvingly, and Clark shivered at the pleasure that washed over him. “Tell me more.”

“Then I thought of you, sir, as I touched myself. I thought of you praising me, calling me dirty names and then I remembered how your shoe touched that spot behind my balls and how it felt so good… I wanted to feel it again… So, I used my other hand and played with myself there.”

“And how did it feel?”

God, he was getting all worked up again just from telling his master what dirty things he had gotten up to earlier tonight. Just remembering the intense pleasure that ignited in his body when he’d rubbed that spot on his perineum was making him shudder and pant with renewed want.

“It…  it felt amazing, sir. I wet myself with even more pre-come just from a touch there, it just felt so good! I… I wanted more. So, I spread my legs and held my knees up so I could rub that part of me better.”

“So, you were getting yourself off with a hand on your cock, and your fingers stimulating your prostate from the outside? Horny slut. Is this how you’ve always jerked off?”

“No, no sir. I didn’t know it could feel this good.”

“Then it’s good that you learn fast. Something tells me that’s not all that you did, am I right?”

“You’re right, sir… I… I imagined you were in my room, watching me expose my cock and my asshole like… like a needy slut, and… and you told me not to neglect my slutty hole. You… you told me to play with it…”

“Ohh? And did you play with your slutty hole, boy?”

Nnghn… yes, sir, I did. I wet my fingers with my pre-come and touched my rim… massaged it to get it soft… relaxed…”

“You didn’t jump straight in to finger-fuck that greedy hole?”

“No, sir…”

“And why not?”

“B-because… because I was nervous, sir…”

“Nervous? Why would you be nervous?” his master sounded surprised. There was a pause and then his master said, sounding almost as if he had an epiphany, “Do you have a virgin hole, boy? Is that it?”

Clark flushed as he admitted the truth that his master had hit on in one guess. “I… yes, sir. I’ve… I’ve never had my asshole p-penetrated or… or stimulated before.”

“Not even a finger?”

His hole twitched a little at his master’s question, as if remembering how close he had gotten to finally penetrating himself for the first time and was feeling that lost chance keenly. “N-no… I was about to breach myself when you called… so, no…”

“I interrupted you just before you were going to finger yourself. For the first time in your life,” his master repeated, suddenly sounding very smug and pleased about it. “That’s… unexpected, but good. Very good. You’re not allowed to touch yourself there. I want that tight, virgin hole for myself. Do you understand?”

Clark gulped a little, throat suddenly feeling very, very dry. His master was going to be the first person to breach his asshole. He was going to lose his ass virginity to his master, and he knew without a doubt that his hole would be absolutely wrecked by the end of the night. Just like how his throat had been when he’d been taught how to deepthroat his master’s cock like a proper cocksucker that very first night.

“Yes, sir,” he replied, voice coming out breathless with want. “I understand.”

“Very good. You can put on your present now.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He carefully removed the collar from the box, spending a little time just examining the fine craftsmanship and the intricate details of the buckle. Then he brought it up to his neck, tilted his head up for better access and slowly let the leather slide across his skin as he encircled his neck with the collar. He fumbled slightly while trying to get the buckle in place, but eventually managed to tighten it so it fit snugly around his throat without being uncomfortable, the buckle resting below his Adam’s apple, in the hollow of his throat.

The moment the collar was in place around his neck, a sense of fulfilment swept across his entire body. His muscles went lax, as if all the tension had bled out of them. His senses seemed to go dull, and his awareness drew inwards, the world around him going blissfully silent. Nothing else seemed important anymore. Nothing and nobody but his master. Clark let out a contented sigh, feeling calm and at peace, and even his arousal didn’t seem to be all that immediate and urgent anymore.

“I guess you’ve put on your collar, haven’t you?”

“I have, sir. It’s wonderful. I love it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, my boy. Now I want you to put on some clothes. Whatever you like, as long as you forgo underwear.”

“Yes, sir.”

He got out of bed and headed to his cupboard again, wondering what sort of clothes his master would like to see him in. He guessed that when his master saw him again, he would want Clark naked again as soon as possible. Nothing fancy then… perhaps something comfortable but would also show off his assets? With that in mind, Clark pulled out his tightest, white tank top, which he used to wear when he exercised until it shrank in the wash. As he pulled it on, the fabric clung to his body, doing little to hide the musculature of his chest and his hardened nipples made visible peaks in the thin material. Though he’d stopped wearing this particular top precisely because it was obscenely tight, he knew his master would appreciate it and was glad that he hadn’t decided to throw it away. For his legs, he decided on a comfortable pair of sweatpants. Perhaps not the most flattering thing, but the material was worn and soft, didn’t hurt his still-hard cock when he pulled it on, and it was still fitting enough that there was a visible tent in his crotch. His master would still be able to see how hard Clark was for him.

“I’m dressed, sir. No underwear as you ordered.”

“Very good. There’s one more present in the box for you. Kneel on the bed like before but face the doorway, then take it out and put it on as well.”

Clark couldn’t quite tell what the other present was. He could only see the white sash, which the collar had been resting on, left in the box. Nevertheless, he took that out, as it was the only other item he could see. That was when he realized that what he had assume to be a simple sash used to pad the box was actually a blindfold. Anticipation rose in him as he looked at the simple, harmless-looking piece of fabric. Then he knelt back down on his bed as he had before and brought the padded part of the blindfold up to rest over his eyes. He was enveloped in darkness immediately. Then carefully, he tied the rest of the sash into a secure knot behind his head. Once tied, he shook his head from side to side and then tilted his head up and down, testing the knot. The blindfold stayed firmly over his eyes in spite of his movements, and a shiver ran through Clark’s body. His throat felt unnaturally parched, his mouth desert-dry, as hot lust flooded his entire being. He had to clear his throat once before he could speak.

“I… I’m blindfolded, sir.”

“Perfect. Cross your hands behind your back. You’ll stay in this position until I come for you. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” he replied, hands immediately going behind his back and crossing them at the wrists.

“Good boy. I’ll see you soon.”

Then the call ended and Clark was left blindfolded, kneeling on his bed, obediently waiting for his master to arrive.

Time became inconsequential. All he could think about was being in his master’s powerful, dominating presence again. For that, he would wait as long as his master desired.

He didn’t know how long he knelt there in the dark with his hands behind his back and his head bowed when he heard the sound of a lock disengaging. He heard his front door open and close, heard the tread of footsteps come towards his room. Then there was a presence in front of him, and he could feel warm body heat radiating from the newcomer to his room.


It was his master, and Clark felt joy sing through his body at the sound of that familiar voice now so close to him, and not merely heard over the phone. He felt his master’s fingers card through the hair at the crown of his bowed head, felt his master’s hand cup his cheek and Clark leaned trustingly into the touch.

“Good, sweet boy. So obedient for me.”

“Sir…” he breathed in acknowledgement, nuzzling the other man’s palm.

“So sweet for me. Tilt your head up. Let me see how my collar looks on you.”

With a last nuzzle against his master’s hand, Clark straightened his head and then tilted it up to bare his throat and better show off the collar fitted around his neck. Both his master’s hands came up to his neck then, stroking down the column of smooth skin until they alighted on the leather band. His master fiddled with the collar, checking the fit and making minute adjustments.

“I was right, you look gorgeous with a collar around your neck.”

“Mmm… thank you for the collar, sir.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Then his master’s hands slid down his neck to his chest, casually exploring the shape of his body through his thin tank top. Clark let out a surprised gasp when his master’s hands brushed over his covered nipples and twin sensations of pleasure jolted through his nerves. He had not known that he could be so sensitive there, but perhaps it was just the lack of sight heightening his other senses but perhaps not. Clark couldn’t be sure. His master’s hands paused then, where they were still resting lightly over his pectorals. Then with deliberate slowness, two thumbs strummed over his erect nipples again, applying more pressure than before, and Clark moaned as white-hot pleasure raced along his nerves and straight to his hard cock, making it start to leak again after he had calmed down a little during the wait for his master’s arrival.

“Sensitive aren’t you, boy? I’ll have to explore more of that later. Come with me. We’re going to change locations.”

“Yes, sir.”

Clark was carefully helped to his feet by his master, and he followed all his instructions readily. He trusted his master not to let him fall, and even when he was led out of his apartment barefoot, he wasn’t worried. His master guided him up the short flight of stairs to the roof of his apartment block, and the cool night air made him shiver a little, made his nipples tingle and grow even stiffer, but with his master’s hands on him, it would be all right. He was guided into some sort of vehicle, seated and then belted in.

“Good boy,” his master praised, caressing Clark’s cheek for a moment before he pulled away. “We’ll be at my playroom soon.”

Clark heard the sounds of his master buckling himself in, heard switches being flipped and then the low whine of an engine starting. It was much softer than he expected of an aircraft. Then he felt a slight lurch of his stomach, and they were airborne, hurtling off to wherever his master’s playroom was.


Sometime later, Clark was being led out of the aircraft and through what seemed like a veritable maze of corridors. He followed quietly, the ride having ratcheted up his anticipation and lust from merely being in his master’s presence as well as from the low vibrations generated by the aircraft providing unexpected stimulation to his ass and cock, sensitizing his ass the most of all and making him crave to be touched there. Now, each step he took sent the soft cotton of his sweatpants shifting over his hard cock, sending tingles of pleasure up his spine, slowly but steadily ramping up his arousal all the same.

Then finally, he heard the click of a door being opened and after stepping in, heard the door close and the sound of a lock engaging. He was certain that his master had finally brought him to the playroom.

Clark blinked to help his eyes to readjust to the light when his master removed the blindfold. When he could see again, he took in his surroundings. He was once again in some sort of underground room bare of windows, lit up starkly by several white lamps. The floor beneath his bare feet was cold concrete, just like the walls of the place. There was a large white bed dominating the middle of the room with a simple but sturdy-looking black metal headboard. Clark had a brief image of himself chained to it, struggling but failing to get free, and swallowed heavily. Next to the bed was a cream-colored chest of drawers and a side table. On the side table sat, rather incongruously, a large, empty, pastel blue bowl and Clark briefly wondered if it were merely an odd ornamentation before moving on from it. Letting his eyes roam around more, he spotted various hooks set into the walls at differing heights, a standing mirror shared the same corner as a strange-looking machine that Clark couldn’t make out a purpose for, and a recessed area that served as a shower with a bench holding bottles of body foam and shampoo. There were also several more hooks set into the walls of the shower and even on the floor, as well as a coiled hose with a tapered nozzle. Lastly, there was a single armchair facing the bed from the opposite end, which looked sort of familiar to Clark.

All in all, it was a surprisingly spartan, utilitarian room. The bed and the armchair were the most lavish objects, but the atmosphere and décor of the room did fit what he had observed of his master’s tastes nonetheless.

His master loomed behind him, and Clark could feel the hard lines of his master’s body as his master leaned against him, front to back. He could sense that his master was a few inches taller than him and that realization made Clark shiver. Clark was by no means a small man, and it made lust coil tighter in his gut to know that his master was bigger than him, could physically overpower him. It made sense now how his master had been able to manhandle him so easily on that first night.

“Enjoying the view?” his master asked, voice dark and right beside his ear. It sent another bout of tremors down his spine, and pressed up against his master as he was, Clark was sure it was felt by the other man.


“I had this room specially made for you.”

Clark blushed. “Thank you, sir.”

“Good boy. Now, strip for me. I want to see all of you.”

Immediately, Clark took one step forward so he would have space to disrobe. He swiftly pulled off his tank top, not thinking about giving his master a show because he badly wanted to be naked in front of his master. Then he was pulling down his sweatpants, bending over to reveal his ass, shivering slightly as the soft material brushed over the sensitive skin of his privates, and then straightening up to step out of the pant legs. He carelessly dropped both articles of clothing to the floor.

As soon as he was naked and upright again, his master was crowding up against his back. Strong arms enveloped him from behind, one hand moving to circle his neck just underneath his collar, the other cupping his balls. Clark gasped and trembled at the sudden shock of pleasure. He could feel his master’s suit fabric press and rub against his bare skin from his shoulders, down the line of his back and along the back of his thighs. Clark was keenly reminded of the power disparity between them, but it only served to fuel his want of the man dominating him so.

“Sir!” he gasped out, weak-kneed all of a sudden as his master began to gently fondle his balls.

His master licked a wet stripe up his neck above his collar, and then placed nibbling kisses on Clark’s earlobe. Clark shuddered and let out a soft, happy moan, his eyes closing at the pleasant touches. The hand around his neck skimmed down and over his right pectoral, then wicked fingers were teasing his right nipple, alternating between pinching the nub of sensitive flesh sharply and rolling it between fingers.

Ohh! Ahh! Sir! Ohhh…!” Clark cried out, eyes jerking open as the electric pleasure originating from having his nipple played with threatened to overwhelm him. He was leaning almost entirely on his master now, legs having gone weak from the dizzying sensations his master was drawing from his body.

“So sensitive,” his master whispered into his ear, before letting go of the abused nub.

Clark whimpered. His right nipple felt as if it was on fire and it throbbed with every harsh breath he took. He was certain that the slightest pressure on it would be torture… tortuously good. Then he was crying out again when his master targeted his left nipple, paying it the same attention as he had to the right one.

“You chose that tank top to tease me, didn’t you? I could see your nipples tenting the cloth the moment I walked through your bedroom door. Do you wear that out, boy? Do you let other men see your slutty nipples and play with them?”

“No!” Clark protested. “Nnnghn… only… only for you, sir! Just you… ohh…!

When his master was done tormenting his nipples, Clark was panting loudly and was only standing upright because of his master’s arm, which had migrated from playing with his balls to supporting him around his waist. Both his nipples were reddened, and they throbbed in time with each beat of his rapidly pounding heart. His chest felt hot, and the cool air against his warmed nipples only served to sensitize them even further. His cockhead was also now shaded a deep red hue, pre-come pearling at the slit and looking primed to erupt with come. He was dizzied from the pleasurable torment he had just been through and he knew it wasn’t over yet.

“You look ready to come just from having your nipples teased. Such a slutty body. You were made to be fucked hard and put away wet, weren’t you?”

Uhh… yes, sir…” he breathed out, still catching his breath from the teasing torment he’d just been through.

“Can you stand?”

“I… I’m not sure…” he admitted, even as he tried to shift more of his weight back onto his own feet.

“Slowly,” his master warned, and Clark felt a burst of warmth that had nothing to do with sexual gratification flow through him.

Cautiously, Clark tested whether he could bear his own weight. When he thought that he should be mostly fine unsupported, he nodded and said, “I think I’ll be okay now, sir.”

His master stepped back from him, but still kept his hands lightly on Clark’s shoulders as if ready to catch him again should he have proven to have overestimated his capabilities. When Clark seemed to be alright on his own two feet, the hands slowly slid down his arms before disappearing completely. Clark swayed just a little at the loss of contact but did not otherwise stumble and fall.

“Get the blue bowl, then come kneel before me.”

“Yes, sir.”

He carefully covered the distance between himself and the side table where the bowl sat, still slightly wobbly on his feet. After he’d picked up the bowl, he turned around to look for his master, who was now sitting on the armchair with a black cushion placed on the floor before him. He walked over there and then wordlessly sank down to his knees on the cushion, settling himself in the position he knew his master appreciated: thighs spread apart into a vee that directed sight straight to his dripping wet erection. As he hadn’t been told what to do with the bowl, Clark kept it carefully balanced in his hands as he looked up at his master for his next instruction.

“Put the bowl down in front you. Then put your hands behind your back.”

Clark obeyed. Then he took the opportunity to take in his master. Once again, the other man was dressed in a tailored white power suit, but this time without a tie. He could also make out the light gray waistcoat partially hidden by the buttoned suit jacket. His master radiated authority and control, which was backed up by his muscularity that was subtly emphasized by the cut of his suit, as befitting the name he had adopted in the criminal underworld. He looked nigh untouchable, clad in his white suit – a different, but no less effective, armor for a different kind of war. It made Clark feel abruptly conscious of his nudity, of his lack of mastery over his desires as evidenced by his weeping erection and stiff, throbbing nipples, so unlike the cool and collected calm of his master.

“Good boy,” his master praised. “Tonight, you can come as many times as you desire. My only condition is that all of your come must be collected in that bowl. If the bowl is not present, you’re not allowed to ejaculate. Understood?”

His face burned crimson at his master’s revelation of the bowl’s purpose. Oh god, yes, his master had promised that he would milk Clark good and proper tonight, but he hadn’t thought that his master would want to collect all of Clark’s come… as if he were going to measure the amount of come that Clark’s cock could produce over the course of one night.

“U-understood, sir…”

“Excellent. For your first orgasm, I want you to bring yourself off. Show me how you were touching yourself in your room.”

“Yes, sir.”

Clark settled himself more comfortably, spreading his legs further apart to expose himself as well as to give himself more room to work with. With his cheeks still stained red, he began to touch himself as he had when he had been alone in his room, but with some slight adjustments as he didn’t have a surface to fully lean his weight against this time. He reached both hands down to his balls, cupping them in his left palm and then lifting them up so they could be more visible. Then with his right hand, he began to play with them, applying a heavier hint of pressure than usual so he could feel just how full they were, feel the slightest tinge of pain mixed with his pleasure. Then using the index and middle finger of his right hand, he traced a straight line from his balls to the tip of his cock, letting the pleasure of that simple motion pull a lustful moan from his throat. He looked up at his master through half-lidded eyes, pleased to see that his master’s gaze had followed the line of his fingers, as he had hoped would happen. It felt so good to have his master’s attention entirely fixed on him, to see the naked lust in his master’s heated gaze even as the other man looked outwardly cool and composed.

Then with one last look at his master, Clark closed his eyes as he had back in his own bed and began properly stroking his hard cock. The lack of sight seemed to heighten his awareness in other aspects, most especially his sense of touch. He was keenly aware of the soft tingly sensations on his legs from the velvety material of the cushion whenever his muscles bunched and relaxed as he thrust his hips, pushing his cock in and out of the slick, wet grip of his own fist. Every movement of his throat, as he gasped and moaned, made him acutely aware of the collar encircling it, reminding him that he was doing this all for his master’s enjoyment.

He didn’t need to imagine that he was showing off for his master now for his master was indeed watching him, but he wished he could do exactly as he had when he’d been leaning against his pillows back in his apartment… How he had held his knees up wide to expose his twitching, untouched hole while he pleasured himself. He whimpered at the thought of how he must have looked, and with that dirty image fixed in his mind, Clark reached his fingers past his balls to massage his perineum. He keened when his fingers found that perfect sweet spot that made his cock jump and blurt out a fresh stream of pre-come. His hips worked harder of their own accord, grinding down on his fingers before pushing back up into his tight fist, a lewd back-and-forth movement as he chased his own pleasure to reach climax.

“Such a needy slut, aren’t you, boy?”

Ahhnn… Y-yes… I… ahh… am… nnghn…!

“Play with your nipples, boy. I want them kept nice and rosy from your attentions.”

Uhh… Yes, sir…”

Keeping his right fist around his cock, Clark brought up the wet fingers of his left hand to play with his right nipple. He stroked the little bud gingerly at first, remembering how the lightest touch had elicited the most electric of pleasures. He was right. The stimulation to his nipple, combined with his hand still stroking his cock, sent a burst of intense sensation coursing through him, making stars explode behind his closed eyelids. He whined, high and broken as his fingers seemed to move without explicit consent from his brain, flicking his nipple from side to side, then pinching it tight between index finger and thumb and then grazing the tip with a nail to add an exquisite pain that lit up his nerve endings like an inferno.


“Don’t forget your other nipple,” his master reminded him.

Clark could only give a brief nod in acknowledgement. His fingers let go of the abused nub and he felt it throb and tingle with the aftershock of stimulation. Then he applied the same attention to his left nipple. Even knowing how devastatingly good it could feel, it still did not prepare him for the fresh assault on his already overtaxed nerves and he moaned and whimpered helplessly with each self-inflicted torment of his sensitive nipple. And yet, he could not bring himself to stop.

He was trembling all over, both hands working himself over frantically as he was sent hurtling up, up, up to new heights of delectable torment. He could feel his master’s hot gaze on him, watching him behave like a whore, mindlessly intent on getting a fix, and the thought sent hot humiliation flooding through his body which only turned into shameful lust that spiralled his arousal higher, closer and closer to the edge.

“Are you going to come?”

“Yes! Ohh yes… Close… sir… ahhh…

“Open your eyes. I want you to watch yourself fill that bowl,” his master ordered. Then, in a conversational tone, as if it he was merely commenting about the weather, his master added, “Isn’t it such a pretty shade of blue? I chose it because it looked exactly like the color of your briefs. The pair that you gratuitously soaked through with your come that first night.”

Clark shuddered and only barely managed to pry his eyelids open before his orgasm hit him with the force of a freight train, pulling a long and loud moan out of him. His hand worked his shaft hard as jets of creamy fluid began to spurt out from his cockhead. His come sprayed into the light blue bowl and he groaned at the remembered sensation of dirtying his briefs, drenching them with the huge amount of come he had produced that very first night he’d become his master’s willing plaything. His cock jerked in his grip and he had to angle it down towards the bowl to prevent any of his come from landing anywhere else. He didn’t think his master would like it otherwise.

He had never consciously watched himself come before, and he didn’t know if that made it seem like his orgasm was particularly drawn out this time. Every squeeze of his hand around his shaft seemed to be accompanied by a fresh gush of hot come, each flick of fingers over his sensitized nipples seemed to make his cock swell a little more, ready to pump out a new load and the cycle would repeat itself again, and again, and again.

“That’s it. Beautiful… Look at how much come you’ve produced. But you can give me more, can’t you?”

Ahh! Yes! Ooooh yess…!

His master chuckled, darkly amused. “I can’t even tell if you understood me, or you’re just too high on your own orgasm. Horny little slut.”

While his master did not sound unhappy, Clark rephrased his words as best as he could with his mind addled by pleasure, “Give… oohh… give you… more… sir…”

“Good. Don’t stop until you’ve pumped yourself dry.”

Clark’s voice was hoarse from his loud, wanton moaning. His thighs ached from thrusting his hips and pushing his cock into the tight grip of his fist, but it just felt too good to stop. And he couldn’t stop, not until he’d pumped every single drop of come out of his cock and into the bowl for his master. He kept his eyes on the bowl, watching it fill up more and more by the second with each squirt of milky fluid from his cock. He was almost at his limit, he felt, his cock beginning to go limp in his grasp. With an almost senseless determination, he sucked hard on his free fingers, imagining that it was his master’s cock filling his mouth instead, battering down his gag reflex to make him choke on hot, thick flesh, just like that first night they shared.

That memory was enough. Clark cried out, a garbled but loud noise, around his fingers as his cock spat out one final load with the last of his orgasm. His cock hung limply in his fist over the side of the bowl and he watched with glazed-over eyes, fingers falling away from his slackened mouth, as the creamy, sticky fluid slowly dripped downwards as gravity dictated, leaving a thin translucent strand connecting his spent cock to the come already collected in the bowl.


He whimpered when his master’s shoe nudged his hand away from his cock, as even that little bit of friction was just a bit too much right now. Then he cried out in shock and squirmed uncontrollably as his master ran the toes of his shoe up and down the length his now flaccid and oversensitive cock.

“Sir! Too much! Ohh… P-please…” he pleaded, voice wrecked and tears springing to his eyes. “Please… no mor- AHH! Can’t! Sir…!”

“Hmm, yes you’ve definitely pumped yourself dry. Your first orgasm tonight, and you’ve already filled up your bowl so much. Should we aim for you to fill it to the brim by the end of tonight’s session?”

Blearily, Clark blinked the gathered tears out of his eyes and tried to get them to focus on the bowl of come once his master had, mercifully, stopped touching his hypersensitive cock. There was… there was a lot of come, maybe not as much as that first night since Clark had been made to hold back until the very last moment, but there was a lot. Even so, the bowl was perhaps only around a third full, and right at this very moment, Clark didn’t think that he could get hard again, much less ejaculate into the bowl to fill it up more.

“I… I don’t know if I can, sir,” he replied honestly. “I don’t know if I can even get hard again…”

“Oh, you will get hard again. Your slutty body won’t be satisfied this easily. Now go to the shower and kneel before the bench. Lay your chest on it and keep your ass level with the bench. I’ll join you in a moment.”

“Yes, sir.”

He shuffled off the cushion and slowly stood up, working out the bit of stiffness that had settled into his joints. Though he was curious about what his master had planned, Clark made himself head straight to the recessed shower, down the two steps that had been cut into the concrete floor, without looking at what his master was doing. He dragged the wooden bench in question a little further away from the wall and then knelt before it, laying his chest down across the breadth of the bench surface in the position his master had instructed. He hissed faintly as his nipples touched the slightly rough surface of the bench but held his position carefully, hoping to minimize any further stimulation to his already sore nipples. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands and so tried to find a comfortable position to settle them, eventually deciding to cross them behind his back.

A few minutes later, Clark heard footsteps and turned his head back a little so that he could see his master come into view. To his surprise, his master had shed his white suit jacket, revealing the light gray waistcoat he was wearing underneath. His shirt sleeves were also rolled up, exposing his toned forearms to the elbows. Somewhat incongruously to the aura of confidence and power he still radiated despite the slight alterations to his attire, his master was also carrying a stack of fluffy-looking towels which he set on the far end of the bench, next to the bottles of shampoo and body foam.

It wasn’t as if he truly knew the other man well. However, seeing him in less than a full suit made this suddenly seem far more intimate than it had been, regardless of what they’d done prior to tonight. Clark also had the feeling that his master had never presented himself to anyone in less than his full suit, his own brand of armor in his line of work. Thus, it made Clark feel pleased to be given the privilege to see his master in slightly more casual wear.

He watched as his master stepped back from the bench a little, his dark eyes raking over Clark’s displayed body from his head, down his back, and to his ass. A blush stole across Clark’s cheeks at the predatory look that entered his master’s face as his master stared at his ass. He remembered how his master had reacted when he’d revealed over the phone that his ass was still virgin territory, remembered how he had been ordered to leave his hole untouched for his master. He wondered if his master was going to take him, penetrate Clark’s virgin hole with his large cock right here in the shower. Oh, did Clark remember how that glorious, silken cock felt in his mouth! How it had filled his throat up, how he had become so desperate to choke on it once he had gotten the slightest taste… How would it feel to have that very same thick length laying claim to his untried hole in the same, inexorable manner? He was already in the perfect position to be fucked.

Clark’s blush deepened when his master brought out his phone from his trouser pocket and Clark dearly wanted to hide his face. His master evidently noticed the deeper flush on his face as his smirk grew wider and he raised an eyebrow at Clark, as if in challenge. Clark knew what his master wanted. So, he held still and kept his eyes on his master even as his master positioned his phone to take even more photos of Clark in compromising positions.

His master eventually stepped closer, until he was right behind Clark and Clark couldn’t see him even with his head turned as much as he could. But he could certainly still feel his master’s hot gaze running over his naked body and he shifted, feeling, impossibly, the low stir of building arousal beginning to make his cock twitch a little as it hung, still limp, between his slightly spread legs.

“Spread your cheeks. Show me your virgin hole.”

Arousal and humiliation slammed into Clark in a dizzying combination at the command, even though he had been expecting something like it. He widened his stance, sliding his knees further apart, and hissed as the movement pressed his chest, his nipples harder against the wooden bath bench he was laying on so that he could better keep his balance. That little movement sent twin jolts of pain-pleasure spiking through him from his over-sensitive nipples, and he shivered involuntarily, which only sparked another round of hot sensation to fizzle across his tingling nerves from his tender nipples. He whimpered, and then gasped as leather smacked, hard, across his upraised ass.

“Did you hear me, boy? Or are you so keen to rub your tits you can’t obey a simple order?” his master growled out.

“N-no, sir!” Clark replied quickly, unable to help the nervous stutter as he forced his body still even as his ass stung from the licking it had taken and his nipples burned from the friction and pressure still applied to it. “I’m sorry, sir… I’ll be good.”

He then uncrossed his hands from behind his back, sliding them over his ass to grasp his cheeks. With a deep breath, Clark closed his eyes as if it would block out the embarrassment he was feeling, and then he held himself open, presenting his virgin asshole for his master’s perusal.

His master made a low noise of approval that had Clark flushing red all over again, this time with the warmth of having done something his master desired of him. He held himself carefully still, even as he felt his master’s gaze rake over his lewdly posed body, making the hairs on his skin stand in anticipation of what would happen next. There was a rustle of clothing, and then he heard, once more, the distinctive click of the camera on his master’s phone.

“Such a tight little hole you have, boy,” his master murmured, voice roughened with desire.

Click! Click!

“I almost find it hard to believe that it’s never had a cock stretch it to gaping. A slut with a virgin fuckhole, doesn’t sound quite logical. Does it, boy?”

Clark whimpered, his master’s words provoking images in his mind of having his master’s cock fuck his ass open, making his hole stretch so wide, it would gape open when it was empty. He imagined his master showing him the photos of his slutty hole, before and after it had been fucked good and open, and let out a low whine.

“Sir… please…”


“P-please… please make me a proper slut… your proper slut… Please take my virgin hole…”

“Oh, I will,” his master promised, voice pitched at a low and rough timber that seemed designed to send shivers through Clark’s body. “I’ll imprint all of myself deep inside of you, make your snug little hole remember the way I split it open, make you crave being filled with my cock. You’re my little cockslut, boy. You’ll learn to take my cock in every way I want you to.”

Yes… oh sir, please…

Oh god, he felt hot all over, like the world was hazing over and his only clear point of focus, the only fixed point in existence was his master. Clark felt as if he was floating, almost as if his mind was detached from his body. He was vaguely aware that his cock had begun to stiffen from hearing all that his master promised to do to Clark, to Clark’s hole. He clung to those dark, dirty promises from his master until it seemed to be the sole purpose of his existence. Anticipation ratcheted up in his body. He wanted. God, did Clark want.

“You’re mine, boy.”

Yours, sir. Only yours,” Clark moaned his agreement, nodding his head fervently. He belonged to his master. He would do anything, bear anything for the other man.

Then Clark let out a loud gasp from both pain and shock as a sharp sensation scorched his nerves, his eyes snapping open as his body jerked forward and away from the source of the pain reflexively. It burned, his… his hole burned, and Clark couldn’t help but turn his head awkwardly to the side, trying to see what had caused that intense flash of pain.

He caught a glimpse of white, a leather belt, in his master’s hands, and then had just enough sense to instinctively brace himself before the leather flashed in a rapid, downward movement. A split second later, he cried out again, tears springing to his eyes as his unprotected hole was hit, unerringly precise, by his master’s belt. He wanted to cringe away, wanted to cover his vulnerable, throbbing hole, but fought against the urge. Clark had been ordered to show his master his virgin hole, and he had to continue to spread his ass cheeks apart until his master said otherwise.

He turned his face back to the bathroom wall and sobbed as a third strike landed true once more on his vulnerable, twitching hole. His tears spilt over, running down his cheeks. He heard the shutter click a few more times, but he was too busy focusing on willing away the raw burning sensation from his ass to really pay it much attention.

“Those three lashes were for your earlier disobedience,” his master said matter-of-factly. “For not showing me your slutty hole immediately when I ordered you to.”

“I-I’m sorry… sir… I won’t disobey you again…”

“See that you don’t. Although, your hole looks even more enticing like this. A little red and swollen, like it’s been fucked, but still furled so tight… It’s just waiting to be stretched wide open, isn’t it?”

Clark jolted as the supple leather of the belt was pressed firmly against his aching hole, gliding up and down almost idly over his skin in a manner that would’ve been merely ticklish if not for the spanking he had received on his already extremely sensitive skin. He squirmed at the friction on his stinging, sensitive flesh, panting harshly as it started to become almost too much. Just when he thought he was going to have to plead with his master to stop, this new abuse to his raw hole too much to bear, the leather was brought away. He heard a clatter as his master discarded the belt carelessly to the side and couldn’t help but tense as desire and dread warred within him and he wondered what else his master had planned for him.

He heard movement behind him but kept himself facing the wall. He knew, instinctively, his master would be displeased if he turned around to see what was going to happen, and Clark had already disappointed his master one too many times tonight. So, he took the time to compose himself, to will away the tears. Yes, his master had punished him, but he had deserved it, and had borne it. His master was fair and Clark knew he wouldn’t be left to feel nothing but hurt.

Then he gasped as he felt cool liquid running down the curve of his ass and over his warm, reddened hole. The contrast in temperatures made him shiver and inadvertently rub his nipples over the surface of the bench again. It was a vicious cycle as he trembled where he was, on his knees and bent over the wooden bath bench, the sensations feeding into each other and making him shudder uncontrollably. Something smooth touched him, just above the rim of his hole and a soft moan shuddered out of Clark and his nerves tried to come to terms with the contrasting gentle stimulation against the previous harsh smacks he had endured.

“I’m going to clean your hole now, boy. Then afterwards, I’m going to fuck it raw and fill it up with my semen.”

“Ah… Thank you, sir. Please, sir…”

The cool water flowed from the tip of the hose down Clark’s exposed crease and fell across his hole and even inside of him. His master guided the hose around his rim, teasing close to the edge but never letting it penetrate him. Clark knew it was because his master wanted nothing else to have the first taste of his tight channel, but he wondered if that would change once his master had claimed his ass.

Would his master watch Clark be penetrated by different types of toys, different sizes of toys to see if his hole could take them? Would he hose Clark down like a stray animal and then fuck Clark’s dirty hole with the hose and fill him full of water, like… like an enema? Would he make Clark try to hold all that water in, only for Clark to fail and wet himself? Would he punish Clark then, put Clark over his knee and spank him like a recalcitrant child? Maybe he would make Clark hold his cheeks apart again, and spank his hole and… and then fuck Clark open while his hole was still red and burning from his punishment…

Clark began to let out, almost unconsciously, soft whimpers as his imagination got away from him. The vivid imagery in his head began to arouse him once more, and his erection, which had flagged from the spanking his asshole had received, began to stir once more. Even the cool water flowing over his ass to trickle over his cock now served to arouse Clark further, as his shameless, wanton body began to burn with lust.

He moaned loudly as his master adjusted the water pressure from the hose, turning it from a gentle stream into something stronger. Water pulsed rhythmically against his flesh, and he couldn’t help the myriad of sounds he was letting out as his master circled the spray of water to apply pressure around and around his sensitive rim, which had been sensitized even further from the spanking it had taken. Then the spray was being directed right over his furled hole and he whined and moaned at how the water pulsed against his hole as if massaging it, further stimulating him and feeding his arousal.

“Such a horny boy you are. You sound like you’re being fucked from just being cleaned,” his master growled. “Insatiable slut.”

Ohh… nnghn… Feels… feels so… gooood… sir…”

“Does it? Then you’ll like this.”

It felt as it the air was being punched out of him as his hole was suddenly breached with no further warning. His master’s finger pushed past his tight rim and Clark gasped at the penetration, at the slight burn from being breached with only a thin film of water to ease the way. His master stopped moving soon after the initial breach, and Clark knew he hadn’t even taken his master’s entire finger inside of him, but he was gasping and shaking from the sudden, rough stimulation, and his balls felt tight as if preparing to come. His master’s hands and their strong fingers had never looked particularly intimidating before, but feeling his master’s finger inside of him, inside the most intimate part of him… Suddenly it felt far bigger than Clark had expected, and yet… it was also one of the most pleasurable sensations he had ever felt.

“Ahh, so tight. You’re clenching all around my finger, like you want to suck me in. Greedy little slut. Remember, you can’t come yet. You can only come into that bowl I got just for you.”

“Yes, sir… won’t… won’t come…”

“Good boy.”

Then his master’s finger was pulling his rim aside, stretching part of it open and he whined at the slight burn and then whimpered as he felt cool water flow into him, following the length of his master’s finger deep into his tight channel. It was all Clark could do to hold still and to keep his arousal in check as his master’s finger moved around inside of him, cleaning him using firm, almost clinical touches that still served to fan the flames of Clark’s insatiable lust to greater heights. A litany of moans, whimpers and gasps spilled out of Clark’s throat as he master’s finger rubbed him in his most intimate, most sensitive of places.

When his master finally removed his finger from Clark’s hole and turned away the hose, Clark was reduced to a panting, mewling mess. His asshole tingled, feeling unbearably empty without any form of stimulation, and his cock throbbed insistently, on the verge of ejaculation from merely having his sensitive ass played with. Then he gasped when a fluffy towel was swathed around his bottom, wiping away the water clinging to his skin and inadvertently stimulating him more. Clark bit his lip hard, trying to use the sharp pain to distract from how good the towel felt rubbing against his skin. He was feeling so horny, so much so that the smallest thing was liable to send him into orgasm.

“Stand up, boy,” his master commanded after the towel was set aside.

Carefully, Clark shifted himself. He used his hands to push himself up from the bench and then to support him as he got his feet under him. His knees felt wobbly, almost unable to support his weight, and his ass couldn’t seem to stop tingling. It was a distracting sensation, as distracting as the bob of his hard cock between his legs. But slowly, he was able to do as he had been told and he stood up, turning around to face his master to await his next command.

His master gave him a slow onceover, drinking in Clark’s lust-blown pupils, his erect nipples that were reddened from all that inadvertent rubbing against the wooden shower bench, and his hard, swollen cock which was wet with pre-come. His master’s eyes lingered on his crotch, before lifting his gaze to meet Clark’s, an eyebrow raised.

Clark flushed and ducked his head, knowing at once that his master was referring to how he’d protested at being able to get hard again after emptying his load into the bowl. His master was right; Clark’s body hadn’t been sated by just one orgasm – intense as it had been. He shouldn’t have doubted his master’s knowledge of his licentious body even though it had felt, at the time, that he couldn’t get hard again.

Thankfully, his master did not comment further on that incident. But as if in reminder of it, his master reached out to grasp his cock and balls, hefting them up slightly as if weighing them. Clark gasped at the rough treatment to his sensitive parts, feeling the callouses on his master’s palm scrape against his tender flesh, but before anything else could happen, his master released them, letting his cock slap wetly against his own abdomen.

“Get on the bed. I want you to lie back against the pillows and bring your knees up to your chest and hold them there.”

“Yes, sir.”

Excitement caused him to move faster than he had previously, although Clark stopped short of outright running. He clambered onto the plush bed, sparing a brief moment to luxuriate in the feel of the soft, undoubtedly expensive sheets, before getting himself into position. He lay against the pillows that were propped up against the headboard in the centre of the large bed, then spread his legs slightly before bringing his knees up and used his hands to hold his pose. In this position, his cock and ass were bared to touch, much like the position he’d been in when he was at home masturbating. But now it wasn’t going to be for that purpose. He was almost certain that he was going to experience anal sex for the first time in his life and anticipation warred with nervousness inside of him.

His master had gotten one finger into him just now, and it had felt impossibly big. How would his master’s cock feel? Would he be able to take it? But oh, that was a silly question. His master would make him take it, just like he’d made Clark take his cock into his mouth and his throat that very first night. His master had promised, and his master never broke his promises. By the end of the night, Clark would no longer be a virgin. His asshole would be thoroughly used, completely wrecked – fitting for his purpose as his master’s plaything.

“Good boy. You look lovely like this,” his master said, pleased, as he came into view. “Ready to be used. As you should always be.”

“Yes, sir. Always, sir.”

His master sat down on the side of the bed and studied him. Then he made some adjustments to how Clark was holding himself. Clark was directed to hook his arms underneath his knees, drawing his legs further apart and closer to his chest, then his master shifted his hands so they were behind the pillows and his fingers instinctively curled around the bars of the metal headboard. The altered position left him feeling a slight stretch along his thighs, testing the limits of his flexibility. It also exposed his pectorals, and Clark knew it had to be deliberate. His master had enjoyed teasing his sensitive buds, and in this position, the other man would be able to do that easily.

“Ah, this is much better. Keep your hands on the headboard until I tell you otherwise,” his master murmured, trailing a hand down the taunt line of his inner thigh making goosebumps prickle Clark’s skin but stopping the caress just short of Clark’s cock and ass – both of which were clamoring to be touched.

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, look into the camera,” his master ordered.

Clark flushed, unable to keep his head from ducking slightly even as he looked up through his lashes at the phone in his master’s hand per his master’s command. He was fully on display to the camera’s lens, and there was no mistaking his position, no mistaking that he was ready to be used, eagerly waiting to be fucked with his spread legs showing off his tightly furled, virgin asshole and his excited, leaking cock. There weren’t even any shadows to obscure any part of his body, which, Clark realized, was likely the reason why the lights in the playroom were all switched on to their most luminescent.

His master took his time, taking shot after shot of his naked body from different angles.

“Sir… please…” he begged, wanting, no needing, his master to touch him, to claim him as his own. He wanted it now.

“Eager to have your cherry popped, aren’t you?” his master murmured, but he was finally tucking away his phone. “You just can’t wait to have a cock fill up that snug little hole and make it a proper fuckhole, can you?”

Clark shuddered at the filthy words, but they were all so true. He couldn’t wait to be filled by his master’s cock, couldn’t wait to lose his ass virginity. He wanted to know what it was like to come on his master’s cock, and more pertinently, what it was like to have his ass filled with his master’s come.

“Yes! Yes, sir!”

“Beg for it, slut.”

“Please, sir, please fuck my virgin hole!” Clark cried out immediately, uncaring of how wanton and shameless he sounded by obeying so quickly. “It’s so empty! I… I can’t… I need it… I need your cock inside my hole! Please, sir! Please use my hole!

“Good boy, I’ll use your hole so hard, you’ll be able to feel it for days. Would you like that, hmm?”

“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!”

“Excellent. Now, as much as I can’t wait to bury my cock into your snug little channel right now, I’ll need to prepare you, get you all nice and wet down there. Can you wait that long?”

Clark nodded. “Yes, sir. I can wait.”

His master smiled at him, the slightest uptick of the corner of his lips and Clark felt warmth suffuse him. Another form of pleasure enveloped him at the knowledge that he was pleasing his master by being good, by being patient. Soon his master would bring him to the greatest heights of pleasure, Clark just needed to wait just a little more.

Then his master stood up, heading over to the side where the chest of drawers was. Clark followed his master with his eyes, noticing that the large blue bowl was now placed on the side table next to the bed. His face flamed red as he took in his bowl of come, sitting innocuously there. He was so focused on it, that he only realized his master was back when he heard a clatter of other items being placed on the side table. Before he could get a good look at what other things his master had brought out, his head was being tilted away and then his eyes were captured by the dark, predatory look on his master’s face and Clark swallowed, mouth dry.

“No peeking. Don’t want to spoil the surprise now, do we?”

“I won’t peek, sir,” Clark promised.

“Good. Let’s get you prepared for your deflowering.”

Somehow, the use of the quaint term made Clark blush even more than the crude language his master had used earlier. It wasn’t as if he were a young Victorian-era maiden, and he also didn’t really want to be treated like one. He liked the rougher sex, the way his master took him apart with sexual acts he had never imagined himself indulging in. But he didn’t protest, not wanting to delay his master any more than he had to. Clark watched excitedly as his master uncapped the tube of lubrication and squeezed out a fair amount on his long fingers, fingers that would soon breach Clark’s hole and prepare him to be fucked. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of those glistening fingers, not until they became hidden from view. But by that time, he was already feeling the press of those tantalizing digits, the pressure they applied against the outside of his rim.

He whined at the teasing sensation, the lube making it an almost smooth slide around his rim. Then both fingers were bearing down on his hole, pushing against the slight resistance of his sphincter until his hole gave in and there were two slick fingers inside of him. Clark moaned as he was breached, the stretch wider than when his master had used one digit to clean him in the shower, but the lube made it all smoother and painless. But unlike the clinical touch from before, his master took his time to tease Clark. The fingers swirled shallowly inside of Clark, only the tips of them were inside of him, teasing him with the possibility of more. Then they were pushed slightly further in, before being teasingly pulled out to the tips once more. Clark whimpered and tried to chase after his master’s fingers, pushing his ass up in jerking motions. Then he cried out as his master smacked his right ass cheek, and before he could recover from the sudden assault, his other cheek was summarily spanked as well.

“No. You’ll lie there and take whatever I give you, however I give you. Is that understood, boy?”

Uhh… understood, sir…”

This time, when the other man returned to Clark’s hole, his touches became even more teasing. His master’s fingers played with Clark’s sensitive rim, circling the outside and then dipping in briefly before pulling all the way out again. Clark whimpered and whined at the fleeting touches, but kept his hips still, afraid of what would happen if he tried to take more than he was given. He shivered with unfulfilled need as his asshole was stretched open around two fingers before closing around air as they were pulled out again and again and again, until Clark thought he would go insane from this teasing torment. Then they were inside of him again, and this time, they scissored apart, stretching his hole wider and Clark moaned at the slight burn of discomfort. His master repeated the motions a few more times, until Clark no longer felt the burn of being stretched out. Then the fingers were pulled out entirely, and Clark whimpered at the loss but otherwise stayed perfectly still, waiting for what his master would do next.

He whined a little when he heard the click of the shutter, knowing there was only one part of him that his master would want to take photos of at this juncture: his wet, stretched hole. It was almost as if his master was documenting his progress, from a completely untried, virgin hole, to a hole that had been breached but only by fingers, then to lastly, the aftermath of his deflowering: a well-used fuckhole. He shuddered at the thought of finding a series of sequential shots of the most intimate part of himself as it was progressively debauched on the mobile phone that his master had given him, proof that he was a cockslut in all possible ways.

Luckily, his master did not take long this time. Soon, Clark was moaning in abandon as his master stopped his teasing and plunged two freshly slicked fingers all the way to the knuckle inside of him. His master’s fingers rubbed intimately inside of his sensitive walls, igniting sparks of pleasure as they continued to stretch him out, to widen his channel for something larger. Then his master was crooking his fingers inside of him and Clark screamed as unexpected, white-hot pleasure flared inside of him, originating from that little spot his master was pressing against. He couldn’t help himself then, despite his master’s previous warning. His hips jerked as he moved in counterpoint to how his master was pressing against his prostate.

Then swiftly, so swiftly it made Clark’s head spin from how abruptly the pleasurable sensations stopped, his master had pulled his fingers out of Clark’s hole, and his other hand was gripping Clark’s thigh and forcing his hips to still their frantic motions. Clark sobbed in frustration once before acquiescing.

“I… I’m sorry, sir…” he whispered in shame, unable to meet his master’s eyes after he’d blatantly disobeyed his master yet again.

“That’s the first time you’ve had your prostate stimulated like that, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“It felt good, didn’t it?”

“…very, very good, sir.”

It had been mind-blowing. He hadn’t thought he could feel such pleasure, and now he didn’t know how he had survived before this discovery.

“I don’t blame your reaction, boy. But you still disobeyed my orders.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“I’ll have to punish you, boy. But since it was your first time, I’ll be lenient.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Get onto your front and present your ass to me.”

Clark hurried to obey, letting go of the headboard and unhooking his arms from under his knees. He turned around onto his stomach, and then got his knees underneath him, presenting himself ass up, head down.

“Up onto your elbows and hold on to the headboard.”

When Clark did as he was told, his master announced Clark's punishment calmly, “I’m going to spank you three times, boy. You’re going to keep count for me and thank me after each one. If you forget any of it, we’ll start all over again. Is that understood?”

“Understood, sir.”

Clark swallowed nervously as he braced himself for his punishment. He knew his master was being merciful. Clark was new to this, but he still felt he warranted stricter punishment for his disobedience. Nonetheless, he was grateful for the reduced punishment.

He jerked reflexively when the first strike landed, a hot stripe in the middle of his ass. It was harder than the previous times he had been spanked tonight, and he only just managed to hold back his cry of pain.

“One. Thank you, sir.”

The second lash landed just slightly below the first, and it stung even more than the first one. He couldn’t hold back his cry of pain this time.

“Oh! T-two. Thank you, sir.”

The words had barely left his mouth when the third and final strike landed on his reddened ass, and it felt like it had hit unerringly where the first lash had landed. Tears sprung to his eyes as he sobbed out his thanks for his deserved punishment.

Aahh! T-three… T-thank you, sir.”

He flinched a little as he felt a light touch on his sore bottom. His master shushed him and Clark soon relaxed into the touch as his master gently ran his palm over his ass. It soothed the burning sting from the punishment and although Clark knew he had deserved his spanking, his master’s gentle touches felt wonderful.

“Your ass is such a pretty shade of red now. One day, I should spank you with my hands, let your ass turn red with the imprints of my palms. Would you like that?”

“Yes, sir. Anything for you, sir,” Clark replied quietly. He wasn’t sure if he really wanted to be spanked again, but the thought of having his master’s mark on him felt good. Besides, if it was something his master wanted, Clark would be willing to try it.

“Turn around.”

Clark pushed himself up to his knees and shuffled around slowly to face his master, every movement of his legs seemed to cause an additional twinge from his abused ass. He kept his eyes down, fixed on the bedsheets, still feeling ashamed by his disobedience even though he had taken his punishment without complaint. He startled slightly when his master’s hand cupped his cheek, drawing his face up. Gently, his master wiped away his tears and Clark couldn’t help but nuzzle his master’s hand at the affectionate gesture.

“It’s alright now, boy. You did well taking your punishment. Heed my orders and you won’t be punished again.”

“I will. Thank you, sir.”

“Good boy. Now, back to your previous position.”

Clark nodded, and then hurried to get back to his previous position. He hissed as his freshly-spanked ass touched the mattress but did not let that delay him from obeying his master’s order. He glanced at his master once he was in place: hands gripping the bars of the headboard tightly, holding his legs up and splayed wide to allow his master unfettered access to his hole. A rush of warm delight went through him as his master smiled in approval, and Clark couldn’t help but smile back even when his master paused to take another photo of him with his ass cherry-red from his punishment but still smiling and clearly begging for more.

Moments later, although it felt far longer to Clark’s needy, lust-addled mind, his ass was being breached once again. Two fingers now slid easily into Clark’s greedy hole, spreading more lube to slick up his channel and teasing him by brushing fleetingly over his prostate. Clark whined and gasped, but obediently kept his hips still this time. He felt faintly embarrassed at how good it felt to have something inside his ass once more, saw the evidence in just how much he enjoyed it when his cock came back to full hardness in a matter of moments of being filled, having wilted earlier during his spanking. Then he was whimpering as a third, lube-slicked finger was pressing into him none too gently, past the slight resistance his hole was still putting up. God, three fingers in his ass was making him feel completely stuffed, and yet he knew they would be nothing compared to his master’s cock. He fought not to squirm, he had to be good, had to let his master spread his hole as wide as it could go with three fingers so that Clark could take his master’s cock when the time came.

“Ohh! Sir… so good… oooh please… Please… want… nnnghn… want your cock, sir…”

“Impatient little brat. But I suppose I can let you have your way this once.”

His master pulled out his fingers, and Clark whimpered a little at the loss. He could feel a palpable emptiness in his ass, could feel his hole clenching around nothing as it desperately tried to find something to hold on to, to fill it up. But it would only be just a little longer, just a little longer until his master would be fucking Clark and felt his cock twitch in anticipation. Clark watched with bated breath as his master undid the fly of his dress pants, releasing his glorious, hard cock from its confines. His mouth watered at the sight of the engorged cock, the reddened cockhead that was leaking pre-come. He had done that, he’d aroused his master and he would soon bring his master even more pleasure. Clark couldn’t wait.

His master slicked himself up with lubricant generously but perfunctorily, not bothering with removing any more articles of clothing. Clark shuddered at how his master still looked perfectly put together, clothes barely ruffled, when in contrast, Clark was a naked mess of need, cock red and drooling onto his bare stomach, ass red from his spanking and hole slick from being fingered. Then Clark stopped thinking altogether when the other man tossed the tube of lube aside and lifted Clark’s ass up, bringing their groins in contact. He moaned at the feel of his master’s hard cock sliding against his own for the briefest of moments, then his master was directing his large cock further down, rubbing against the curve of Clark’s ass until the head was kissing lightly against Clark’s twitching hole.

Time seemed to slow for Clark then, as he felt the inexorable pressure of his master’s cock pressing against his loosened hole. He could feel the shape and size of his master’s cockhead, and it was larger than three of his master’s fingers. Oh god, it was happening, his master was seconds away from claiming Clark and there was nothing Clark could do but wait for it to happen. His hips were in his master’s tight grip, making it impossible for Clark to move – be it to forestall the inevitable or to hasten its arrival.

Then he was crying out as a mix of pleasure and pain overwhelmed his senses. He was feeling every inch of his master pushing past his hole’s feeble resistance, feeling as more and more of his virgin ass was claimed by hot, turgid flesh, stretching him to the limit unapologetically. He shook in his master’s iron-grip, thrashing his head side-to-side weakly as a myriad of sensation flooded through him, pulling him down into a deep pool of dark delight in which he could drown in.

When he became more aware of himself, he realized he was babbling, a stream of ‘thank yous’ and ‘so full’ interspersed with loud, wanton moans. It was a little embarrassing but god, yes, he felt so full, his ass was stretched wide around his master’s cock and it felt like he couldn’t possibly take any more. He thought he saw his master set down an object to the side of the bed, but he couldn’t be sure, as overwhelmed with sensation as he was. Then, abruptly, his master thrust in sharply and Clark cried out. That last thrust had his master bottoming out inside of him, and Clark’s bare ass was pressed up snugly against his master’s groin, the fabric of his master’s trousers rasping against his reddened skin in a contrast of sensations that was flooding his body then. He was dizzy with pleasure and the knowledge that he’d managed to take every single inch of his master’s large, gorgeous cock into him.

“Mine,” his master declared, his voice a deep, possessive rumble.

“Yours,” Clark breathlessly echoed, looking deep into his master’s hypnotic gaze. “Yours… ohhh… sir… so good…”

The other man smirked, transforming his face into a devilishly handsome visage. That was Clark’s only warning, and then his master started to plunder his ass, starting up a hard and fast pace immediately, and there was nothing Clark could do but hang on for the ride.

The burn from both the penetration and the spanking he’d received was swept away in a tide of white-hot pleasure as his ass was pounded relentlessly, his master giving it to him hot and hard. Every drag and slide of his master’s cock inside of him seemed to be amplified tenfold as compared to his fingers, setting his nerves ablaze with desire and Clark soon lost whatever tenuous control he had on his voice, letting out a litany of loud, hedonistic moans that seem to reverberate in the room.

It was the first time he’d ever had anal sex, and he knew he could never live without it ever again, couldn’t comprehend how he had spent thirty-odd years of his life without knowing the pleasures of taking a large cock inside of him, of how incredible it felt to have his hole split wide open and filled to the brim with hot, silky flesh. It felt so impossibly good. The fact that his ass seemed to be more sensitive than what he thought was normal was making it all the better, and it drove home the point that he was clearly made for this.

He was clearly made to service his master’s cock, to provide a warm and willing hole for his master’s use whenever and wherever his master desired.

“Such a good, tight hole you have, boy,” his master praised with only the slightest strain to his voice to hint at his physical exertion. “A virgin’s hole. How’s my slutty little virgin enjoying his deflowering?”

“Love… love it… sir… your cock… s’good… making my ass… so full… so good…

“I can tell you love it. Your hole’s sucking me in, like it doesn’t want me to go. You want something inside you always, boy? Making sure your fuckhole’s always nice and full?”

Clark shuddered, eyes closing as his mind going straight into his filthiest fantasies. Fantasies of having a plug stuffed inside his ass even as he went about his daily life, a constant reminder that he was owned by the Knight. A tangible reminder that his master owned him even when they weren’t physically together. He imagined having the plug under his clothes as he went to work, as he sat at his office desk trying his best to act normal, trying his best not to squirm at the constant pressure the plug would no doubt place on his prostate. How every little movement he made would rub the plug up against his sweet spot, until it was all he could do to not purposely grind down on the toy inside his ass until he orgasmed in public like a whore desperate to get a fix regardless of propriety.

“Do you think you could take it? Have a plug inside of you all day? Trying your best not to become hard and horny at work?” his master continued, voice a low, dangerous growl that seeped into Clark’s mind, curling into his psyche and exciting his dirty, shameless body further. “Or would you cream yourself before the day was out, hmm? Sitting all pretty at your desk, giving off the illusion of being a hardworking reporter, when really, you’re just trying not to scream as you come in your pants in front of all your colleagues like the filthy little slut you truly are? All from sitting on a plug shoved deep inside your ass.”

Clark moaned and shuddered violently, shaking his head fervently although he wasn’t sure if it was in denial of his master’s words or if he were trying to rid his mind of the lurid images. Surely his master wouldn’t do that to him. Surely! Clark was his master’s slut, and only his master’s. Surely his master wouldn’t want anyone else to catch a glimpse of Clark at his horniest, at his most shameless. Even so, he couldn’t drive the images from his mind, couldn’t help but get further aroused by the lurid, depraved fantasies of debasing himself in public because he couldn’t control his libido.

His cock swelled further in response to his peaking arousal and even more pre-come leaked from his cockhead, smearing wetly onto his abdomen, leaving behind streaks of glistening, translucent residue. He was so hard that it almost hurt, and he could feel pressure building low in his gut, a sign of impending orgasm. Clark was certain it wouldn’t take long, wouldn’t take much more stimulation for orgasm to crash over him and drag him under. He wouldn’t even need to be touched.

“AHH!” a scream tore out of his throat as his master shifted his angle, dragging Clark more fully onto his cock. Now, his prostate was being struck with unerring accuracy on every thrust of his master’s thick cock, sending carnal delight exploding like fireworks through Clark’s pleasure-addled body. He thought being fucked by his master couldn’t get any better, but he had underestimated his master’s skill.

He was being dragged under by molten lava, by heat that brought him pleasure as equally as it burned him. But it was a pleasant burn, the dark desires that his master stirred up in him. He embraced it, felt his hole go loose as his master fucked his throbbing length into Clark, feeling like he was taking more and more of his master’s cock with every push even though there was physically no way for them to be joined any closer. He was a hot, moaning mess of a cockslut and incoherent sounds of pleasure were dragged out from deep within him without any semblance of restraint. The knot in his gut was tightening, ready to snap at any moment. Oh god, he was so, so close!

“Tonight, you can come as many times as you desire. My only condition is that all of your come must be collected in that bowl.”

The memory of his master’s instructions at the start of their play hit him then, and Clark cried out, half in frustration and half in alarm. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer if his master kept up his expert fucking of Clark’s ass, his self-control already in tatters. But he also knew he couldn’t come, because that had been his master’s instructions. Clark couldn’t ejaculate unless it was into the bowl to be collected. Oh god, he had to stop his master, he had to beg his master to let him come, to let him get the bowl and come into it. He didn’t want to stop, not for a second, but he knew that there was only punishment in store for him if he wasn’t good, if he flouted the rules yet again.

“Sir! Ohhh… ohh… Sir! Please… I… please stop… need… need to… ahhh… nnghnn… gonna… gonna come…!”

“What did I say? About coming?”

“That… oh… that I can’t… not… not unless… it’s in… unghn… in the… bowl… sir… please…”

“Good. You remembered,” his master said, a pleased quirk to his lips. Then he was pulling out of Clark, leaving Clark feeling unbearably empty. “Now, go grab what you need, and then get onto all fours for me to fuck you.”

“Yes, sir,” Clark replied breathlessly.

He hurried to comply with his orders, knowing the faster he had the bowl underneath him, the faster his master would resume fucking him and grant him his release. Clark grabbed the large blue bowl off the side table, not even chancing a glance at the other items on it, his mind set on one thing and one thing only: to have his master’s cock back inside of him, fucking him hard until he screamed his completion into the pillows. He situated the bowl carefully on the mattress, right underneath his dripping cock as he splayed his knees on either side of it. Then he went down onto his elbows, letting his hands return to their position on the headboard, and finally, he lifted his ass higher into the air, presenting himself for his master to use.

Clark couldn’t help but fidget a little in this new position, his cock hanging uncomfortably full and heavy beneath him, pre-come starting to drip down towards the bowl of come in sticky, pearlescent strands as gravity dictated. He tried his best to hold still as he heard his master shuffle around behind him, heard the by-now familiar shutter clicks that sent an equally familiar rush of humiliation-tinged arousal through him. He whined softly, trying not to be impatient, but he really, really wanted his master’s cock back inside of his gaping, empty hole.

Then he was gasping, breath rushing out of him as his master grabbed a hold of his ass cheeks, spreading them wide before pushing inside of him in one long, steady glide. Clark panted into the pillows, mouth wide open and getting drool onto the sheets as his body yielded easily to being dominated. The new angle let his master get in impossibly deep, brushing up hard against his sensitive prostate and all the other secret, sensitive spots inside of his ass. Then his master started grinding his hips into Clark’s ass, a slow, incredibly filthy slide that rubbed the length of his huge cock against the walls of Clark’s stretched open ass and over and over and over his prostate.

It was a different feeling than the hard thrusts from before. Pleasure was building slowly but steadily inside of his ass, spreading outwards to engulf Clark in slow, rolling waves, each one pulling Clark further and further under into a dark sea of bliss. He was mewling into the pillows, dignity completely tossed out into the winds, his ass moving back in counterpoint to his master’s movements, rolling their hips together slick and filthy, and his master let him. But when he tried to up the pace, he was stilled with a warning rumble from his master and a tightening of the grip his master had on his hips. Clark whimpered as he meekly slowed down his pace, allowing his master to continue at the maddeningly slow pace, letting friction build up between them, feeling that gloriously large cock apply steady, unrelenting pressure onto his tingling prostate.

Nnnghn… sir… please… more… ooh… harder… pleaseee…” Clark begged, unable to stand the slow pace any more.

He had been oh so close when they’d stopped just now, and it felt like he wasn’t allowed to get closer, was being held on the precipice when he desperately wanted to tip over into the freefall of an undoubtedly mind-blowing climax.

“Insatiable slut. If I go any harder, we’re going to tip over that pretty bowl of your come, and then where will we be, hmm?”

“But sir… I can’t…”

“Oh, but you can. You’re not going to touch yourself. You’ll come on my cock, and only on my cock. Is that understood, boy?”

Clark sobbed in a mix of frustration and desperation, but he still replied in the affirmative. Not agreeing would be worse. “Understood, sir.”

“Tell me what you’re going to do, boy,” his master ordered as he kept up the languid but persistent rocking motion, his large cock striking Clark’s prostate with every minuscule but skillful movement.

With each short stroke over his prostate, each circle of his master’s cock inside of his ass, pleasure seemed to build higher and higher. He was on the precipice of orgasm, but he was yet to be able to find a way over it. It was getting painful, but even that pain was transmuting into another twisted form of pleasure that was making Clark become incoherent with desperation.

“I’m… ooooh… I’m gonna come… come from your cock, sir… only from your cock… imnngh… in my ass… Wanna come… sir… wanna come… so bad… nnnghn…

“I know you do, naughty slut. Look at yourself, boy. Look at how desperate you are. Are you leaking into your come bowl, boy?”

Feeling another blush wash over his cheeks and down his torso, Clark did as he was told, moving his head so that he could look down the length of his body to where his wet cock was hanging heavy and so, so full of come just waiting to be pumped out. Fuck, he was a horny slut, a disgraceful whore for wanting it so, so much. But it felt exquisite, and he couldn’t get enough. He wanted more. He always wanted more from his master.

“Y-yes. I’m… mmmghn… leaking into… my bowl… Oh sir… please…”

“Keep your eyes on your cock, boy. You’re going to watch how much come your slutty body can produce from being fucked in the ass, from losing your virginity.”

Clark shivered, but kept his head down and his eyes fixed on his bobbing cock. He was almost hypnotized by the movement, the way his cock swayed with every thrust into his ass. Soon, he was going to see his come spurt out from the slit on his cockhead, he was going to watch as his come filled the bowl on the mattress beneath him. He was going to witness first-hand, just how much he liked taking it up the ass.

“Sir, please… so close… wanna… ahhnn… wanna come…”

He felt his master shift behind him, and he whimpered as he felt the lean hard body of his master cover his back, felt the drag of expensive fabric over the bare skin of his back. His master was draped on top of him possessively, and Clark could feel his master’s hot breaths tickling the nape of his neck, just above his collar. He was surrounded completely by the other man, completely and utterly owned by the body caging him in place, by the cock impaled in his ass. He moaned as his master rutted just a little more forcefully into his ass, sending pure molten bliss flooding through him, further building up the pressure in his weeping cock.

Then his master’s voice was in his ear, a low, seductive purr, “Come for me, my little slut.”

The words were a catalyst, as if his body had been waiting for that command to tip over into orgasm. He cried out as the dam broke, releasing a tidal wave of pleasure originating from his well-fucked ass to encompass the rest of his senses. Through a haze of pleasure, he watched his cock jerk and then begin to empty itself as jets of come erupted from his cockhead and into the bowl. Through half-lidded eyes and with his incoherent keening cries drowning out all other sound, he saw how his come flowed out in a ceaseless stream from his slit, each thrust against his sweet spot seeming to increase the amount of come his cock could pump out at a go. He felt his ass spasming and clenching around his master’s hard length, heard his master’s gasp right against his ear and was pleased that he was pleasuring his master and tried harder to milk the cock inside of him even as it milked more of Clark’s own come out his lustful body. Then he felt his master’s cock withdrawing, and he let out a desperate whine of denial and tried to clench around the length of flesh, worried that he had done something wrong to cut short the mind-blowing pleasure he was feeling.

But he needn’t have worried. His master was soon driving his hard cock forcefully back into his needy hole and the sudden strength behind it after the slow grinding stimulation of previously was enough to short-circuit Clark’s brain and elicit what felt like a second orgasm even before his first one ended. Clark was dragged fully under by his master’s skilful playing of his body, but not before he saw his cock spurt out another hot gush of come and felt some of his own semen spatter against his chin. Then his mind went blissfully blank as he lost himself in the haze of his second powerful climax in quick succession.

When Clark next became aware of himself, he found that he was still on all fours and that his master was still hard and hot within him. Through bleary eyes, he saw that his softening cock was still dribbling a weak but continuous stream of come into the now considerably fuller bowl. Pain-pleasure speared through him again as his master rubbed hard against his overstimulated prostate, and he whined as his cock spat out one last tiny squirt of fluid before becoming completely quiescent. Clark felt utterly boneless, and it was taking all the remaining strength he had to keep himself somewhat upright and not collapse fully onto the bed.

“All wrung out now, aren’t you, boy?”


“Sit on my cock, boy, and show me how much more your slutty cock has filled the bowl.”

“…yes… sir…”

With effort, Clark pushed himself up, and with the help of his master, sat back down in his master’s lap, his master’s cock still a hot, throbbing brand inside of him. He gasped a little, being oversensitive now that he had orgasmed, but otherwise did not protest being stuffed full once again. Then he picked up the blue bowl, which was now more than half full of creamy white come, and Clark couldn’t quite believe that it had all come from his body.

His master pressed up harder against his back, peering over Clark’s shoulder to look at the bowl in his hands. “Such a slutty body you have, boy. Think you can give me more?”

“Sir!” Clark protested.

“Hmm? But I think you can. I think your cock just needs a little rest before it’ll be raring to go again. Now, put your come bowl aside. You’ve had your fun twice tonight, but I still haven’t,” his master said, punctuating his last statement with a sharp thrust into Clark’s slightly sore ass.

Clark’s loud gasp was more due to oversensitivity than any real pleasure, but his master seemed to interpret it differently. Thrusting shallowly up into Clark’s loosened hole, his master’s hands came around him to play with his nipples. Clark whimpered as both his nipples were toyed with, and then cried out as they were pinched sharply and then released, only for the process to repeat itself again. His hands shook slightly as he tried to hold the bowl steady, and he begged for his master to stop so he could set his cargo aside. Which he did, just long enough for Clark to return the bowl to the side table, and then Clark was being bodily hauled back onto his master’s lap.

His body tingled at how easily he was being manhandled, and he was pleased at the little signs of how his master’s control seemed to be fraying: the manhandling, the increased roughness to his master’s voice when he’d spoken, and the low groan of satisfaction when Clark’s hole swallowed his master’s cock to the hilt in one effortless slide. Then his master was rolling his hips, driving that delicious cock in and out of Clark’s ass, heedless of how sensitive Clark still was in his post-orgasmic languor. But his master was right, Clark had had two orgasms by now, and he hadn’t yet satisfied his master. This had to be rectified post-haste.

Despite the sting of oversensitivity, Clark met his master’s movements in counterpoint, lifting himself up and down his master’s cock even as he hissed through the sting of overstimulation. He was glad that the hours he spent working out were paying off as he easily rode his master, leg muscles flexing as he worked himself on his master’s cock, almost bouncing in his master’s lap. He wanted to get his master off so that he could experience the mind-blowing pleasure Clark had already been granted. His master let him work, let him ride that beautifully thick cock while laying bites on Clark’s skin just beside the collar that marked Clark as his. Clark shivered slightly, knowing that those bites would turn into bruises soon, yet another mark of ownership, this one more visceral and intimate than the collar around his throat.

“Good boy. You already ride like a professional,” his master praised after some time, voice a deep sensuous purr in Clark’s ear.

“Does… does it feel good, sir?”

“It does. Your ass was made to be fucked, boy. It’s a wonder you were still a virgin until tonight.” Then his master gave his ass a light slap and added, “Back on your hands and knees boy, I want your ass filled with all of my come and not a drop less.”

Clark didn’t think he’d obeyed an order faster in his life. He scrambled off of his master, shuddered slightly at the lewd, wet pop when his master’s cock pulled out of his asshole, and got back on to his hands and knees. He arched his back up in a deliberately provocative manner, raising his ass up high at an angle.

Then he looked back as best as he could at his master and said coyly, “Please sir, please come inside my ass.”

His master let out an honest-to-god growl and then pounced. His hole was once again penetrated, his master’s thick cock filling him up in one hard thrust, and at this new angle, seemed to reach deeper into Clark’s ass. He moaned loud and long at the rough penetration, and then his moan was breaking up into staccato beats as his master started to pound his ass rhythmically. His master’s hands were vice-like grips on his hips, and Clark thought he would find finger-shaped bruises there the next day and was giddy with delight.

Clark kept his head turned to watch his master as long as he could. He admired the savage beauty that was his master as the other man took his pleasure and plundered Clark’s body unreservedly. His master was looking just a little more dishevelled than usual, hair a little mussed and waistcoat rumpled. Clark felt a little pride at managing to crack a little of his master’s iron control. His master noticed him watching, and caught Clark’s gaze with his own dark ones, and Clark couldn’t stop staring, hypnotized. Clark was the prey caught by a predator’s sharp, deadly gaze, and he whimpered at the danger and heat he saw in his master’s eyes, the hint of a smug smirk.

Impossibly, his master sped up his thrusts and Clark broke their heated gaze as his eyes rolled back into his head at the fresh assault on his senses. His ass was being drilled and moans were being pushed out of him in time with the fucking he was given. He could hear the loud and lewd slap slap slap of their bodies and wondered what it would be like for his master to fuck him when his ass was still wet with his master’s come from a previous coupling. The thought enflamed him and then Clark was grinding back into his master’s thrusts, moving in tandem with his master so that his master could find and spend his pleasure inside of Clark’s willing and ready body as soon as possible. Then perhaps later Clark could be fucked again with his ass already wet from both lube and his master’s semen.

His master’s movements became more uncoordinated but still driving a hard pace, and Clark knew his master had to be close. Clark started to work his ass, clenching down around the hard length inside of him, trying to increase the pressure and friction to milk the cock inside of him. He was rewarded with a low, almost surprised-sounding groan from his master, and he kept up his ministrations.

“Good slut. So eager for my come, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir. Please… please come inside my ass… please fill me up… mark me up inside!”

“You beg so prettily, boy. Going to fill you up and then plug your ass full.”

It was as if his master had read his mind and Clark whimpered at the thought of getting what he wanted. “Ohh! Yes, sir… please sir!”

Then his master grunted, his grip on Clark’s hips tightening further and then Clark felt a hot burst of wetness deep inside of him. Oh! His master was coming, his master was coming inside of Clark’s ass. He felt more and more pulses of warmth as his master’s come flooded his channel, coating his insides, marking Clark up in the most intimate brand of ownership possible. Clark moaned as he felt his insides become fuller with both come and cock and then whined at the wet squelch coming from his used hole as his master rutted into him, chasing the last of his pleasure. He fluttered his muscles around the length inside of him, drawing a hiss of pleasure and another gush of come filling him up. Then finally, his master stopped moving, his front pressed up tightly against Clark’s back. Clark could feel the slightly faster movement of his master’s chest and the puffs of air washing over his neck as if his master was panting slightly. He obediently kept still, letting his master dictate the next step while he enjoyed feeling his master’s sated weight on him, knowing that it was his body that had made his master feel so, so good.

After a few more moments, his master lifted himself off of Clark and then began to slowly pull himself out. Clark fought against the need to clench around the softening cock inside of him, to keep something filling up his asshole. When his master pulled free of him, he instinctively clenched up around air and that elicited a dark chuckle from his master.

“Needy boy. Keep your hole clenched tight. I don’t want you spilling a single drop of my come before I plug you up again.”

Clark mewled at his master’s words. Oh god, his master really was going to do it. He closed his eyes tightly in concentration as he did his best to keep his hole clenched tight and his ass tilted up so that he wouldn’t lose a single drop of his master’s come.

“Good boy. Now open your eyes and look at your plug. You’re going to have it sitting in your ass and filling you up soon.”

Clark blinked his eyes open, tilting his head to the side to look at what his master had placed in front of him on the pillows. It was a fairly-sized plug, all sleek smooth lines with a tapered tip and a flared-out base. It was, not surprisingly, colored a pristine white. It seemed fairly unassuming, until his master turned the toy so that Clark could see the flared base. Embossed on the flat of the plug was the Knight’s crest, the raised surface of it colored a stark, contrasting black. It would stand out against the white of the plug and against his skin – yet another symbol of his belonging to his master.

“I thought of how I wanted your plug to look like,” his master said as he sat back down onto the bed. His master’s hand reached out to trace meandering patterns on Clark’s back, drawing ever closer to Clark’s ass but never quite reaching it. “I thought about a princess plug, a pretty, sparkling gem right at the base. But you’re not a proper little princess, are you? You don’t want to be pampered that way. You like being dirty and you like knowing who you belong to. Don’t you?”

“Yes, I do, sir. I’m your dirty slut.”

“That’s what I thought. So, I made this for you instead, so you’ll always remember that your ass and your delicious little hole belongs to me. And if anybody else saw it, they’d know you already have a master. That you’re mine.”

“Yours, sir. Only yours.” Nobody else would see him like this. His ass was his master’s and only his.

“Good boy. Now give your plug a good suck. That should be enough lubricant for your ass now.”

His face flamed red, but Clark obediently opened his mouth to accept the plug. He sucked on the toy as if it were a real cock, lapping at the hard plastic with his tongue to get it wet. His master pushed the plug further into his orifice and Clark let it happen, let his master lazily fuck his mouth with the toy as Clark floated on a cloud of endorphins even as he was careful to keep his ass in the air so that gravity worked with him to keep all of his master’s come in his ass. After a few minutes, his master pulled the plug out of his mouth with a pop and then wasted no time in inserting it straight into his ass. Clark moaned as his ass was breached by the toy, the feel and shape of it so different from his master’s cock and fingers. It went in smoothly with an obscene squelch that sounded terribly loud in the quiet of the room, the way eased by a mix of spit, lube and come. When the plug was completely seated inside of Clark, his master gave the base a sharp tap, jerking the tip of the plug right against Clark’s prostate and making Clark whimper at the combined pleasure of having his ass filled and his sweet spot stimulated. He clenched experimentally around the plug, shivering at how incredible it felt inside his ass. Almost as good as having his master’s cock inside of him.

“Thank you, sir,” he murmured, contentment rolling languidly through him.

He rested on the bed, enjoying the gentle petting his master was giving his ass, occasionally tweaking the plug nestled inside of him to make him moan. He floated in this relaxed haze, only peripherally aware that he was being photographed yet again, but by now he had expected it. Secretly desired it. Clark wanted proof that he’d been a good boy for his master, proof that his virgin ass had been thoroughly deflowered and was now a warm receptacle for his master’s cock and come.

“Come here, boy.”

His master’s command broke through the daze he was in, and Clark dutifully got up onto his hands and knees and crawled the short distance to where his master was sitting on the bed. His movements shifted the plug inside of him in delicious ways and arousal was slowly, but surely, starting to make itself known again. But Clark kept his eyes on his master’s, patiently waiting for his next order.

“Good boy. The plug looks beautiful stoppering you up, making sure all of my come is inside of you.”

“Feels good, sir. So warm and full…”

“Excellent. You’ve been so good, accepting your deflowering. Would you like a reward?”

“Anything you wish to give me, sir.”

“You’ll like this. I remember how much of a comeslut you were the first night we met. You couldn’t wait to swallow all of my come down your throat, could you?”

Blood rushed to Clark’s face, but he nodded. Yes, he had thirsted for his master’s come once he’d gotten past the initial hesitation. His master’s come had tasted so good in his mouth, a unique taste that Clark could see himself addicted to. He hadn’t been given much of it, but what he’d had had been divine.

“For being so good tonight, you get to clean up the come left on my cock.”

Clark perked up, hardly daring to believe his luck. He glanced down and saw his master’s cock, no longer erect but glistening faintly with a few precious remaining strands of delicious milky come. His mouth watered at the sight and he unconsciously licked his lips.

He looked back up at his master, making sure to maintain eye contact so his master could see how grateful Clark was. “Thank you, sir!”

“You’re welcome. Get to work now, boy.”

“Yes, sir!”

Clark bent down eagerly, leaned over the side of his master’s thigh and took a moment to just breathe in deeply. He inhaled the dark, musky scent that was unique to his master, and just like before, it was a heady thing and he felt almost hypnotized once again. He nuzzled his master’s cock, planting a kiss in gratitude for being able to do this before he got to work properly. Clark carefully lapped over the length of his master, cleaning up the sticky white essence, letting out a contented hum as he worked. He savored the salt-bitter taste, relished its creamy texture and buried his face in his master’s groin to better breathe in the heady scent of his master. God, he couldn’t get enough. He suckled gently on the tip of his master’s cock and moaned slightly as it felt like he was being stuffed from both ends with the plug sitting snugly inside of his hole and his mouth around his master’s cock.

As he licked and sucked the warm flesh, belated realization hit him that he was cleaning up his master after his master had fucked Clark’s ass. He felt his face heat up at that, but the humiliation only served to further stir up his arousal, knowing how dirty he was behaving and just how much he didn’t care that about that. He was a dirty slut, and dirty sluts didn’t care that their master’s cock had been in their ass just moments before being told to suck it clean. They would gratefully swallow their master’s cock to the root because it was what they loved: having a cock stuffing up one of their holes. And Clark was so very grateful, he would do it over and over again if given half the chance. He meticulously cleaned up all of his master’s come, making sure to lave in broad strokes that from root to tip to make sure he didn’t miss a single drop. Even so, it felt far too soon when he’d finished cleaning it all up, no longer able to taste his master’s come as his tongue licked over the soft flesh. But Clark desperately wanted to prolong this. He wasn’t sure if his master would approve of him taking initiative, but Clark wanted to try, his need for his master’s taste was too strong.

He first suckled the sensitive tip and used his tongue to tease the crown. It drew out a low grunt from his master, but the other man made no move to stop Clark. Emboldened, Clark took more of his master’s cock into his mouth, lips and tongue working in tandem to bring pleasure to his master while he himself took pleasure in the feel of the slowing hardening flesh in his mouth and the increase in his master’s musk as arousal bloomed. Eventually, his mouth and throat were completely stuffed with an engorged cock as he took in his master to the root, his face pressed flush against his master’s groin. At some point, as if his master had read his mind, the other man had shifted so that Clark was between his parted legs and was able to deepthroat the thick cock in his mouth more comfortably. Clark couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of being completely filled from both ends, and the vibrations from his muffled moaning made his master grow bigger and harder inside of Clark’s throat.

“Insatiable cockslut,” his master admonished but Clark could hear the fond, pleased tone and knew his gamble had paid off. “So eager to have both your fuckholes stuffed. I should let your ass be pounded by a fucking machine while I fuck your face one day. You’d come buckets if I did that, wouldn’t you?”

Clark’s vision went a little hazy at the mental images his master’s words conjured, and he moaned his wanton agreement. Yes, god yes. He wanted to be fucked relentlessly from both ends, wanted to be completely and utterly used.

“You like that, don’t you? Maybe if you’re good, I’ll give it to you another day. Now, back to work, boy. You want to drink more of my come, don’t you?”

In lieu of a verbal answer, Clark dove back into performing fellatio with vigor. He licked the hard length over thoroughly, getting it sloppy before letting it slide in, all the way down his throat with a wet squelch. He suckled hard, working his lips and throat around the hard flesh, jaw aching slightly from the strain. Then he pulled off to the tip to plant butterfly kisses there, and because he knew his master loved to see him all wet and messy, Clark rubbed his cheeks over the leaking tip, letting pre-come smear indecently over his face before diving down once more to swallow his master’s cock whole.

It was when his mouth and throat were stuffed full of cock when he suddenly jerked as white-hot pleasure shot through his nerves. His cry of surprised pleasure was choked off, but his entire body squirmed as the plug inside of his ass was being pressed on firmly, applying unrelenting pressure onto his prostate. He whined around his mouthful of cock, thrusting his ass back against the hard pressure. Then he was rocking himself back and forth between the two points of carnal bliss, glutting himself on the hard cock in his mouth and then fucking himself, equally hungrily, back up onto the plug inside his ass. He knew he had to be making such a shameful display, but he couldn’t stop his obscene movements. His master’s cock was divine, a hard and heavy heat stretching his jaw and throat open, while the plug in his ass was pressing against all of his pleasure spots, controlled expertly by his master’s hand.

“Desperate little whore,” his master said as he pulled the plug a little out of Clark’s ass before ramming it back in and hitting Clark’s prostate straight on. Hard.

Clark’s scream of pleasure was gagged by his master’s large cock, but if it hadn’t been, he was certain that he would’ve been heard from miles away. Giving his master a blowjob had been mostly for his master’s benefit, but he should’ve known that his master would be able to see through to his true desire of wanting to be spitroasted, to have a cock filling up each of his holes simultaneously and be thoroughly used as a fucktoy. Now he himself was being brought to the edge once more, his cock red and leaking as it bobbed between his legs. With a force of will he didn’t realize he had, he stilled the rocking motion of his ass, made himself stop fucking back onto the plug. He couldn’t help but still keep his ass raised in a position to be fucked by his master who was controlling the toy, but he tried his best not to further stimulate himself anally.

His master chuckled when he saw that Clark had stopped his wanton rocking even though Clark was still trembling with unsated desire. “Good boy. Get me off and swallow all my come, and then I’ll let you come again.”

Clark nodded slightly and then focused all of his attention onto the cock in his mouth. He used all the skill he had, everything he had learnt from their first night to try to get his master to lose control and fuck his mouth. He slurped around the cock in his mouth, let his saliva run to thoroughly wet that glorious cock so that an obscene squelch could be heard with each bob of his head up and down his master’s shaft. He stretched his jaw open wide, kept his throat relaxed as he went to swallow his master whole, only stopping when there was nowhere else for him to go. His face was pressed tightly up against his master’s groin, lips stretched wide around the base and what little air he could inhale was filled with the heavy musk of his master’s intoxicating scent. With the entirety of his master’s cock stuffed down his throat, Clark was acutely aware of the tightness of the collar he wore. It seemed to have gotten tighter with a cock distending his throat and Clark’s own cock twitched, letting loose another stream of pre-come to dribble onto the bedding. Then with his mouth and throat thus filled, Clark hollowed his cheeks to the best of his ability and began to suck with his mouth and throat, stimulating the long line of flesh sheathed inside of him.

His master cursed, and Clark kept up his ministrations, pleased that his master approved. He felt the physical proof of his master’s pleasure when his master’s cock swelled further, prompting Clark to let out a groan that mainly consisted of vibrations as he was effectively gagged by hot, turgid flesh. At that, his master stopped playing with his ass. Before he could mourn the loss of anal stimulation, hands tugged at Clark’s hair and that was all the notice he got before his master was pulling Clark’s face up and down his length, face-fucking him in earnest. Clark kept up a hard suction around his master’s cock even though a part of him felt ready to float away on being manhandled by his master. He had to work for his master’s come, he couldn’t let his master do all the work.

Eventually, his master pressed Clark down and held him there once more. Clark moaned and whined, letting the vibrations travel from his throat to stimulate the entire length of flesh. He stayed with his face buried in his master’s groin, unable to draw away even if he wanted to as his master held his head firmly in place and began fucking his throat with short, tight rolls of his hips. Clark let himself go pliant, sensing that his master was near. He breathed in his master’s scent deeply, letting it cloud his mind, preparing himself to be filled with come from his other end this time. He moaned gratuitously, delighted at being used just the way he liked and knowing that his reward was near. He heard his master curse colorfully once more, and then the cock sheathed in his throat was pulsing.

Clark whimpered as he was taken to the limit, barely able to breathe through his nose as he was held in place as his master ejaculated down his throat. Just when he thought he was going to black out, he was pulled back. He managed a loud gulp of air, then his senses were quickly taken over by the salt-bitter taste of his master’s come as it spurted directly into his slack mouth, onto his tongue, and Clark lost that precious breath of air to a needy moan. He closed his lips over the crown of his master’s cock, milking his master’s orgasm so that he could taste more of that ambrosia straight from the source. His mouth was filled with more jets of warm, creamy fluid and he swallowed all that he could with his coordination muddled by lust. In the end, he couldn’t quite keep up and some of it spilled out the sides of his mouth. He was a downright mess, but he continued suckling on his master’s cock, swallowing when he could and letting the rest run down his chin. When finally, his master was soft again, Clark carefully cleaned up that beautiful cock of all traces of come, making sure to be gentle so as not to hurt his master.

Eventually, Clark was pulled off his master’s cock. His head was tilted back by the grip in his hair, and he smiled dopily up at his master, letting his master see his sloppy face, sticky with pre-come and with ejaculate dripping down his chin. He continued to gaze adoringly up at his master as he heard shutter clicks, until eventually his master was scooping up the split come off his chin with his fingers and then bringing them up to his mouth. Clark gratefully licked off all of his master’s come that he hadn’t managed to swallow, cleaning each finger thoroughly and savoring the taste of come and a fainter, indescribable taste that was his master’s skin.

Mmm… thank you, sir,” he slurred, drunk on the smell and taste of come.

His master helped him up into a kneeling position, sitting him back on his haunches before speaking, “Like the taste of my come, don’t you?”

“Love it, sir,” Clark replied honestly, still smiling guilelessly.

“Mmhmm, I can tell,” his master commented with a darkly amused smile, before reaching down to grasp Clark’s cock and give it a sharp squeeze.

Clark cried out at the sudden stimulation to his neglected cock. His cock hadn’t been touched at all. Not since he’d masturbated for his master. The unexpected touch made a gush of pre-come flow down his cock and take him another step closer to climax.

“You got hard just from sucking on my cock, didn’t you? Dirty boy. But you did such a wonderful job, so I’ll let you come. Get your bowl. I want you face down, ass up, straddling your bowl. Keep your hands behind your back this time.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

With the plug inside of him and being far more aroused than he had been previously, Clark had to move carefully in order not to inadvertently tip himself over into orgasm as the plug shifted with every move he made. His ass was so incredibly sensitive now, and it would be easy to climax if the plug shifted just right. He was panting slightly when he finally got into place as ordered: face down, ass up, hands behind his back, legs straddling the blue come bowl and with his cockhead aimed at its center. He heard a rustling sound and angled his head on the pillows so he could watch his master. His master was tucking himself back into his trousers, looking well put-together once more, almost as if he hadn’t just given Clark a good hard fucking. From both ends. Then the other man was picking up another object from the side table.

“Do you remember this beauty?” his master asked, holding the object he’d taken out for Clark to see.

Clark swallowed, mouth going dry as he laid eyes on the gun held innocuously in his master’s hand. Oh, did he remember it. It was the very same gun his master had used to threaten him, and then later, made him fellate so that he could get off.

“I do, sir,” he whispered. Was his master…?

“Then I believe you remember what I said last time. About making you come while I fuck your ass with it.”

Oh god, he was. Clark shuddered as the realization washed through him, anticipation and wariness chasing through him in equal measure. Despite the wariness, it didn’t stop him from getting harder, from another gush of pre-come dripping out of his cock. Fuck. He had to swallow a few times before he could reply.

“I remember, sir.”


Then without further ceremony, his master was uncapping the tube of lubricant and coating a liberal layer of it over the length of the gun in plain sight. Clark swallowed again but was unable to take his eyes off his master’s fingers as they ran up and down the barrel, smearing slick over the metallic surface and making it shine even more in the light. Fuck, he was going to have a gun in his ass. He was going to have a gun fucking his ass. It was so far out of the norm, so depraved… and Clark couldn’t wait.

His master smirked, noticing Clark’s rapt gaze on the gun. “Dirty boy. You’re dying to be fucked by my gun.”

“Sir…” Clark whined in embarrassed protest but made no other denial. How could he? When it was exactly what he wanted and they both knew it?

The other man chuckled but didn’t say anything more. Instead, his master finally set aside the lubricant and ran his free hand down the curve of Clark’s ass cheeks before settling atop the plug. Clark held his breath, bracing himself for a round of teasing before his master would get to the main event. His breath came out in a surprised whoosh of air when his master defied expectations and instead, extracted the plug from Clark’s ass without further fanfare, leaving Clark’s channel fluttering in its wake as his body tried to find something hard to tighten around but to no avail. His master’s gaze was hot and heavy on Clark’s uncontrollably twitching hole and Clark had to fight to hold still so that he wouldn’t let any of his master’s come drip out now that the plug had been removed.

“Your hole is such a slutty shade of red now. No longer that pretty virgin pink, and so, so hungry for cock. Are you hungry for cock, boy?”

“Yes, sir. My ass feels so empty. Please sir.”

“Not that empty though, is it boy? My come is still inside.”

“Yes, sir. But… please, sir. Want more. Please.


“Please fuck me with your gun. Please… I… I want to come… I want to come with your gun fucking my ass!”

Then Clark was gasping as his master shoved the barrel of the gun inside of his ass without further ado, sliding it all the way in as far as it could go effortlessly in one long thrust. It was neither as wide as his master’s cock nor the plug, but it was more unyielding and the metal was colder than body temperature. His ass clamped down on it instinctively, and Clark felt metal prodding him in odd places. It didn’t necessarily hurt, but it was different. Then his master was working the gun in and out of his channel in fast, unrelenting strokes, causing Clark to cry out as cold metal invaded his soft insides, tormenting his nerves but feeling still so amazingly good all the same. Eventually, the metal warmed up to body temperature, but it was still as unbending as before, reminding Clark that he had a dangerous weapon shoved up inside of his most vulnerable places and he was most definitely getting off on it.

Just when Clark thought he was going to lose it, going to fall over the edge and into climax, his master switched up the movements of the gun. Instead of plunging it in and out of Clark, his master was now swirling the gun inside his channel, leisurely pressing the body of the gun up against Clark’s inner walls but deliberately avoiding his prostate. Clark could feel the movement of the gun inside of him as well as how it was stirring up the come pooled in his ass. It felt as if his master was staking his claim on Clark all over again, using the gun to ensure that his come coated every single crevice of Clark’s ass.

He thrust his ass backwards, tried to shove himself more fully onto the gun, to make it press up against his prostate once again. But he was thwarted by the firm grip his master had on his hips, which tightened to the point of pain in warning.

“Stay still, boy. You’ll take what you’re given and nothing more.”

“Sir!” he whined, unable to help himself from protesting. He wanted. Fuck, he wanted more. He needed more.

“Any more complaints and I’ll leave you hanging.” His master emphasized his point by drawing out the gun entirely from Clark’s ass without preamble.

Knowing his master would be more than happy to punish him further, Clark subsided, letting his master dictate the pace. He tried not to squirm at how empty he felt without the gun inside of him, even though it hadn’t been of as substantial girth as the plug nor his master’s cock. But it had been something inside of his ass, something to fill up the gnawing hollowness.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“You’re mine, boy,” his master reminded him sternly. “Mine to do as I please.”

“I’m yours, sir,” Clark echoed mindlessly, nodding his head in agreement. Anything to get the gun back into his ass, fucking him to completion. “Yours to do as you please.”

“Hands on your ass. Spread those cheeks,” his master commanded, tone brusque. “You’ll hold them apart for me to fuck your dirty slut hole with my gun.”

“Yes, sir,” Clark answered immediately

He had displeased his master by being greedy, and he knew he was just one mistake away from being actually punished. That his master was giving him another chance was something he had to make good use of, and if that meant eagerly presenting his fucked-open hole for further delicious debauchment, he would do it gladly. His hand uncrossed behind his back, reaching further down to grab a firm hold of his ass. Without the hesitance of before, he pulled his plump cheeks apart, exposing his rosy fuckhole, stretching it open even more as he spread his cheeks as far as they could go.

He felt the tip of the gun trace down his spine, spreading a line of wetness onto his skin. He shivered, knowing that it was a mix of come and lube that he was feeling. The pressure from the gun was light, but it was setting Clark’s nerves on fire as it headed inexorably down the line of Clark’s back. Clark knew that there was only one destination for it: over his asshole and then into it. But he held himself perfectly still, only allowing himself to pant with barely restrained anticipation.

Clark jolted slightly when the gun reached his ass, hovering just above his empty hole. It tickled slightly as his entire ass, not just his hole, was now super sensitive to any stimulation. His master seemed to notice it as he began lazily drawing the gun up and down that sensitive patch of skin right above Clark’s twitching hole. Clark shuddered, whimpers escaping his open, panting mouth, but he lay there docilely, not making any further attempts to get the gun where he truly wanted it to be.

“Good boy,” his master praised. “There’s one thing I didn’t manage to do just now, when your ass was eating up my gun. Do you know what it is?”

Clark thought back, trying to focus his mind through the haze of his desire. What had his master not done…? Oh. He couldn’t help but blush once he realized what his master meant, and he knew from the dark chuckle his master emitted that his master knew that Clark had realized what it was.

“Sir… I… you…” he stuttered, unable to find the words even though they should be easy. He had already been so thoroughly debased, that this shouldn’t be an issue. Nevertheless, Clark found it difficult to voice out his realization.

“You know what it is. Do you want me to do it?”

Did he want…? Clark swallowed, but he knew, despite the embarrassment, despite how humiliating it was, that he wanted it. “…yes, I do, sir.”

“Then beg for it.”

“…please take a photo of my ass…” he whispered.

“I already have photos of your ass, boy. Many of them, in fact. Be specific.”

Clark swallowed. Oh god, his master was going to make him say it. Somehow, it made it all the more humiliating to be begging for his master to take photos of him as he performed depraved sex acts.

“P-please take a photo of your gun fucking my ass, sir,” he repeated in a louder voice.

“You can do better than that, boy.”

“Please, sir!” he begged, loud and shameless. “Please take a photo of me with your gun in my ass! With your gun fucking my hole!”

“Since you asked so nicely,” his master murmured.

Clark whimpered as cold slick was squeezed directly onto his hole. Some of it slipped straight inside of him, while the rest was spread around his rim by the gun, coating the long barrel of it. Then the gun was slipping back inside of him, inch by torturous inch as his master deliberately made it slow going even though his hole was loose enough to take it all in without resistance. When the gun could go no further, his master let go and Clark felt the weight of the gun sitting inside of him, heavy and inexorable, and moaned.

Ohhh, your gun is in my hole, sir,” he moaned out shamelessly. “Please sir… please take a photo of my hole! Please!

He wanted to see how he looked like. He wanted to know how slutty his ass looked with a gun handle hanging out of it. He hadn’t gone the least bit softer since this had started, and it was proof of his own filthiness.

“You’ve got an exhibitionist streak in you, boy.”

Then Clark was hearing the sounds of the camera clicking away and he moaned again as humiliation-tinged pleasure washed over him. He held still for the camera but was unable to stop periodic moans and whines from escaping him at the knowledge that his slutty behavior was being immortalized.  

“Look at how much of a slut you are, boy,” his master eventually ordered.

Clark blinked open his eyes, unsure when he closed them. When they focused on the phone his master held out to him, he flushed. It was better than he imagined. The skin around his stretched hole was slightly shiny with lube, the handle of the gun sticking out of it like a depraved sex toy. His hands could be seen in the photo, clearly spreading his cheeks apart so that his hole could be accessed easily. His master had also managed to capture his cock in the frame. It hung full and heavy between his spread legs, drooling a steady stream of pre-come into his come bowl. All of that combined to be irrefutable evidence that he was completely enjoying his debasement, that he had enthusiastically welcomed a weapon to invade his ass.

“I’m a slutty boy, sir,” he gasped out in agreement with his master. “Your slut.”

“Yes, you’re my slut. Good boy.” His master petted Clark’s hair as he spoke, and Clark luxuriated in the contentment that affectionate gesture brought out.

“Are you ready to be fucked, boy?”

“Yes, sir! Please fuck me with your gun!”

With a last pet of his hair, his master moved behind Clark, taking a hold of the gun once more. Clark whimpered as his master drew the gun out slowly, letting it drag against his inner walls. Then when just the tip was left inside of his hole, the gun was shoved back in, striking his prostate with brutal accuracy.

Orgasm hit him like a sucker punch and Clark screamed as fireworks exploded in his mind. All that teasing and humiliation had added up, and that last direct, brutal assault on his prostate by the gun was the final push. His ass clamped down on the gun, keeping it inside of him as his cock pumped out hot streaks of come. The gun was still moving inside his ass, not quite thrusting with how his ass was sucking it in, keeping it from really moving out, but it was keeping up a steady rubbing motion directly over his prostate as an alternative. Clark wailed at the unrelenting assault to his frazzled nerves, drowning in the waves and waves of pleasure the gun was eliciting from his slutty ass.

He came and came and came, his cock showing no signs of stopping as it pumped out more and more come, driving Clark to the brink of insanity at how impossibly good it felt to have his ass fucked by a gun. He could feel some wetness splattering against his stomach and could only dazedly hope that the rest was shooting into his come bowl. His mouth was open wide and slack, drooling into the pillows as his orgasm continued, moans and whimpers being punched out of him periodically as his senses weren’t allowed to come down from the high. He had no idea how he was still ejaculating, how his cock hadn’t yet run dry. This was his third orgasm of the night but come was still streaming out of his cockhead.

“Such a slutty hole you have. You came just from being penetrated. Hard to believe you were a virgin not too long ago.”

“Still… still coming… sir… nnghn…” Clark slurred out, his mind reduced to fucked-out mush capable of only expressing pleasure. “Soooo gooood… ahhn… I… unghn… still… coming… Ohh!

“Yes, you are. I told you I’d milk your cock dry, didn’t I? You’re producing so much come from having your prostate milked by my gun. Dirty boy.”

His master was milking him. That was why he was still coming. The gun was massaging his prostate, alternating between rubbing up and down that little spot and caressing it in tight circles, but both movements were merciless in their gentle tormenting of his sweet spot. He was beginning to come down from the intense high of his powerful orgasm, but he was still caught up in a haze of pleasure as his prostate was being stimulated. He was floating, feeling so light and so good, and he was still ejaculating, he could tell. But it didn’t feel like before, his cock didn’t feel like it was spurting come out as if the pressure had been released. In fact, he thought his cock was beginning to soften, and yet come was still flowing out. Clark whimpered weakly, feeling utterly wrecked and blissed out, his body buzzing with overloaded sensation.

“You’re still coming, boy. How much come can your slutty body produce, hmm?”

“…dunno… sir… as much… as aah… you… want… sir…”

“I’ll hold you to that, boy,” his master said.

Then, the press of the gun on his prostate got harder. Clark cried out at the sharp stimulation to his nerves after a time of gentle teasing as a twisted bolt of pain-pleasure singed through him. It was edging the line of too much sensation but wasn’t quite there yet. But he knew that it wouldn’t stay that way for long. But this was what his master desired: Clark taking whatever his master would give to him. So, he lay on the bed, unable to stifle his cries of pain-pleasure, body twitching and jolting with each rough thrust against his abused prostate but letting his master play him like a good cockslut was supposed to. He had completely come down from his orgasmic high and his body felt like an oversensitive bundle of nerves with his ass feeling the worst of it. But he was going to be a good boy, he would hold his vulnerable insides open for his master to continue to fuck him with the gun even as the sensations were beginning to tip over the line into overstimulation.

He held on, biting back any protests as the gun began fucking in and out of his ass again, striking his prostate on every inward drive. His ass was beginning to feel sore after being fucked for so long, even though the gun was still well lubricated from a mixture of slick and come. Tears were running down his face silently as the stimulation became too much but he only trembled and whined. He thought about letting go of his ass cheeks and using his hands to protect his swollen hole, but he knew that it would only lead to punishment for his disobedience. Surely, he could take a bit more of this. Surely, this was better than another round of being spanked on his tender, enflamed hole.

Clark endured for as long as he could, until it was all too much. “Sir,” he sobbed out in between incoherent moaning. “Oh! Sir… it’s… please…”

“As much as I want, that’s what you said, boy,” his master reminded him, voice a silky purr that caused a shiver of lust to run through Clark’s body despite it all. “I want another orgasm out of you, and I’m certain you’ll enjoy it very much too.”

God, Clark wasn’t sure he could live up to his master’s expectations. It didn’t feel like he could become erect anymore, even though his body was still being tormented by pleasurable pain. But he wanted to be good for his master, he didn’t want to disappoint his master.

“Sir, please… touch my cock… help… me… please…” he pleaded, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to get erect again without direct stimulation to his cock this time.

“Good boy. You want to come for me, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir… wanna come for you,” Clark agreed breathlessly. “Help… help me come… sir…”

“I suppose you are almost at your limit,” his master mused.

Without further ado, his master’s hand closed around his flaccid cock and began to knead his flesh in time with the thrusting in his ass. Clark sobbed again as pleasure assaulted him from another part of his anatomy, this one feeling less painful than the stimulation from his ass. That was probably because his cock hadn’t really been touched for most of tonight, and it was less painful for it to be fondled than his throbbing, well-used ass. Gradually, under his master’s skilful ministrations, Clark began to get hard.

“There you go,” his master murmured, sounding pleased that Clark was once again erect.

Clark himself felt dizzy with sensations that he could no longer parse. His mind was blank and he could only feel. Feel the hand working over his cock, feel the gun pumping into his ass, feel the sparks of electricity that tingled all through his frazzled nerves. He could do nothing but lie there to be used as his master deemed fit and just feel. His body didn’t feel like it belonged to him anymore as it responded to his master’s touch, cock hard and leaking once more, priming itself to shoot out one last load per his master’s orders. His jaw was slack, open in soundless gasps as his body jerked and swayed with every thrust in his wrecked ass.

His master sped up his strokes over Clark’s cock and then began to rub Clark’s prostate with the gun. Clark whimpered, barely any sound leaving his throat. He could feel it building. Miraculously, his master had gotten him close to having a fourth orgasm, and if his master had his way (which Clark was certain he would), Clark would be spilling his semen for one final time. He didn’t know how much come his body still had, but his master would squeeze out every single drop.

“Such a good boy,” his master murmured. “You’re getting close again, just like I knew you would. You’re going to fill up your pretty bowl to the brim.”

“…fill up… fill my… bowl…” he echoed mindlessly, words slurred together almost incoherently.

“Yes, my little comeslut. Let go, boy. Give me all of your come.”

“…yes… yesirrr… ahhn…

His orgasm cascaded over him in slowly building waves as his master milked his cock, keeping a steady kneading pressure over his hot flesh, ensuring that his come continued to flow out. Clark’s prostate was also being massaged, and each deliberate press seemed to prolong his orgasm, kept his cock from drying up. Clark floated, cocooned in bliss, moaning softly as his master drew out his climax. He didn’t know how much come his cock was releasing now, but his master hadn’t stopped pumping him so he couldn’t have run out yet.

“Just a bit more. You can give me just a bit more, can’t you, boy?”

“…more… give sir more…” Clark agreed hoarsely, not entirely aware of what he was agreeing to anymore. But if it was something his master wanted, he would give it.

He hissed as his master’s grip on his softening cock tightened and then gasped as his master’s hand began to pump him furiously. The gun pressed unrelentingly on his prostate, and the simultaneous brutal assault made him cry out and tears spring to his eyes yet again. He was torn out of his blissful haze now and could feel every twinge of pain from overstimulation. Yet, even that pain was colored with a twisted bliss and he squirmed weakly at the mixed signals his mind was processing but unable to escape them all the same. He managed to turn his head slightly, blearily looking back at his master as best as he could. His master wasn’t looking at him, or at least, not at his face. His master was staring intently at Clark’s privates and Clark saw the moment an idea came to his master. That was all the warning he got before his master slid the hand around his cock down to squeeze his balls.

“OH!” Clark’s upper body twisted violently at the shock of stimulation.

Then, what felt like a minor orgasm shook him, making him moan weakly. His eyes rolled back in his head as he was overwhelmed and his cock let out one final, tiny stream of come. That final orgasm took everything out of Clark, his muscles lost all strength and he couldn’t keep his ass held up any longer. He was only barely managing to cling on to consciousness, almost insensate after all the sex acts he’d performed and had performed on him with scarcely a break between them. Thankfully, his master seemed to have realized this as well and he guided Clark down to the bed on his side instead of letting Clark slump straight down when his limbs gave.

Clark lay on the bed passively as he tried to catch his breath and let his master arrange his limbs as his master wished. His legs were lifted, one was then set down on the bed behind the bowl while he was made to hook an arm under the knee of his other leg to keep it spread and upraised. He realized muzzily that this position once again exposed his ass, and with a shudder, realized that the gun was still stuffed inside him and he could feel come beginning to drip out of his slightly gaping hole since the gun wasn’t wide enough to plug him up fully. But he was so utterly exhausted that he couldn’t bring himself to move from the position his master had put him in, not even to attempt to hide from the camera lens.

“Sir…” he protested weakly, but without much conviction behind it.

His master obviously sensed that it was but a token protest and didn’t acknowledge it. Clark watched through half-lidded eyes as his master snapped picture after picture of him. Wide angle shots that captured his dazed expression, his fucked-out body, the rumpled sheets and his bowl, now filled to the brim with his creamy come – everything his cock had produced over the course of the night’s activities. Then there were close-ups of Clark’s loose, well-fucked hole with the gun still mostly sheathed inside his channel and his master’s come oozing out of the sides and soaking into the sheets.

When his master was finally satisfied, he reached out a hand to run through Clark’s hair. Clark enjoyed being petted and then his master was directing his gaze down, towards his come bowl. He flushed, taking in how full it was, the blue of the bowl only a thin ring around the rim, the rest of it dominated by thick, white semen.

“Look at how much you came, boy. Did having your ass deflowered and then fucked raw feel that good?”

“So good… sir… felt amazing…

“Excellent. You’re progressing nicely, boy. But it’s time to clean you up.”

Although he was beyond exhausted, Clark didn’t quite want it all to end yet. He definitely wasn’t up for more sex (probably wouldn’t be able to get it up for a week, that was how utterly worn out he felt right now), but he wanted a reminder of all that had happened. He especially wanted a tangible reminder that his ass was no longer virgin territory, and that it had felt incredible to have it filled with come and cock.

“Want… want your come, sir… want it inside me…”

“Greedy boy. Now that you’ve gotten a taste, you want your ass full all the time.”

“Please, sir… want your come inside… Plug me… please…”

“Well, since you begged so nicely, I suppose I could indulge you,” his master murmured, a fond expression crossing his face.

“Thank you, sir.” Clark smiled dopily in happiness. “Thank you!

His master brought over Clark’s plug once more, coating it with a cursory layer of lube. Then he lifted Clark’s lower back higher, and Clark tried his best to help by supporting more of his weight and keeping his leg raised so his master had better access. He felt the gun slip out of his hole a bit more with the movement, the metal dragging against his oversensitive walls and he shivered. Then there were fingers brushing over his ass and then pushing into his hole. He moaned weakly, trembling harder as his tender, swollen hole was breached.

“I’m just pushing back the come that leaked out, boy. You want to be full, don’t you?”

“…yessir… thank you, sir…”

When his master finally finished pushing in all the come that had escaped from his hole, the gun was pulled out of him. His master did it slowly, dragging it out inch by tantalizing inch. Clark’s body quaked, helpless to prevent further teasing. He only managed to breathe a little in relief once the torturous slide ended, but then his master was pushing in his plug to take its place without ceremony. It wrenched a little cry from him as he was filled once more, his ass protesting even the slightest bit of friction. But even through the throbbing of his freshly-abused ass, Clark felt full and satisfied, profoundly glad that he would stay this way for some time.

His master then brought his stained fingers up to Clark’s lips, and Clark immediately stuck his tongue out, licking up the last remaining residue of come, savoring it with an appreciative moan. Then he moved on to the gun when it was held up to his lips. He licked over the long barrel of the gun with his tongue, scouring off all traces of come coated on it. He even closed his lips over the tip and sucked hard to draw out the come that had gotten stuck inside. He didn’t want to miss a single drop of his master’s delicious come. When he was finally done, he leaned back onto the bedding unable to stop his lips from spreading into a smile of someone who’d been well-fucked and had enjoyed his debauchery immensely.

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome. Now, up, boy. We still have to clean up the other parts of you.”


The subsequent shower was nice. Extremely nice, especially since Clark was beginning to feel the myriad of tiny aches and pains after the intense sex session his body had been put through while essentially being at human-normal and the water pressure was doing wonders at soothing those aches. What he enjoyed more, perhaps, was that Bruce had finally stripped down fully, shedding the white suit as he shed his role. As they both shed the roles they’d taken on.

Clark hadn’t been able to resist dragging Bruce in for a long kiss once the suit was off, and Bruce had returned the kiss with ardor and love. They had stood under the spray of the shower just leisurely kissing, letting their hands roam over each other’s bare bodies in ways their roles hadn’t allowed for earlier. Clark pulled away, however, when Bruce reached for his collar, clearly planning to undo it.


“No, it’s okay. I want to have it on for awhile longer. I don’t often get to feel this way.”

Bruce smirked and asked slyly, “And how exactly are you feeling?”

“A little sore from everything you did to me. But it’s a good ache.”


Bruce sounded so self-satisfied that Clark had to swat him on principle. Then he picked up the body wash from the bench and held it out to Bruce. “Wash me?”


Bruce pressed a sweet, short kiss to Clark’s lips and then took the bottle from Clark. Clark enjoyed being pampered by Bruce now that their scene was over and relished in how Bruce took care to gently massage his muscles, seeming to know exactly which part ached the most. He supposed that it was possible that Bruce had deduced it simply from knowing exactly how the human body worked and which parts were more likely to be strained from the various positions Clark had been put in. It was very nice having a lover who knew the limits of a human form as well as Bruce did.

They helped each other clean up, every touch filled with tenderness and love. With the collar around his neck feeding a low but constant wave of red light directly into Clark, he was starting to feel sleepy as the toll of the night’s activities finally caught up to his currently human-normal body. The last few moments in the shower were mostly of him leaning on Bruce while Bruce washed off the rest of the soap and shampoo from the both of them. He moaned a little when Bruce tapped lightly on the plug still nestled in his ass, mock-glaring at the older man.

Bruce was, as always, unfazed. “Are you sure you still want to keep it in?”

“Yeah. I like how it feels, and we both have the weekend off. Dick’s helping you watch over Gotham and the League knows not to contact us, baring sudden world-ending crises,” Clark reassured.

It had shocked their teammates when Bruce, notoriously workaholic Bruce, had announced calmly near the end of their most recent monthly meeting that Batman and Superman were going to take a weekend off and they weren’t to be disturbed unless an apocalypse was imminent. Barry had been the loudest at voicing his incredulousness and had then began to speculate what they were going to be up to in the next breath. Bruce had taken great joy (though it would’ve been impossible to tell based on Bruce’s expression at the time) in baldly insinuating what was going to happen without actually saying anything incriminating, and Barry had seemed quite traumatized. Clark didn’t quite have the fortitude to tell Bruce that his super-hearing had also caught a near-indecipherable mutter of ‘ohmygod, that’sfreakinghot’ from Barry as well. Personally, Clark didn’t quite know what to make of that and had resolved to not think too deeply about it.

“You can remove it tomorrow,” he continued, then with a deliberately wide-eyed, innocent smile, added, “and fuck me again.”

At that, Bruce shuddered, a slight aborted movement that Clark felt solely because he was plastered bodily against the other man. Clark’s smile widened, knowing that he’d gotten to his usually in-control lover.

“You’re going to be really feeling it if I do that,” Bruce said, the roughened rasp of his voice telling Clark how much Bruce was actually liking the idea.

“I want to,” he replied. “I’m a big boy, Bruce. I can take it.”

Bruce nipped at his ear chidingly before giving Clark a rough, passionate kiss that curled his toes. When they broke away, Clark was panting slightly for air, which was still a rather novel sensation for him. He could see the heated promise in Bruce’s dark eyes and knew he would be waking up to being fucked hard and good again the next morning. Like Bruce said, he was really going to be feeling it, and Clark couldn’t wait.

Then Clark yawned, surprising himself at how loud it was, and Bruce chuckled. “Alright, time to get you to bed before you keel over where you stand.”

“Mmm yeah. But you’ll catch me, right?”