Sex in C Major

"You belong to me," Daz would say, in that deep, smooth voice. "Why would I share my toys with anybody else?"

At first, he'd lock Stefan in the bathroom. No windows. No way out but the bolted door. And he'd come over, drag Stefan out by the hair, and fuck him on the mattress. In the early days, Stefan would plead and struggle. He'd fight. And he'd lose, every single time.

Then he'd try to be good, so it wouldn't hurt, and Daz would like him better and let him do more. Stefan would call him sir, and be on his knees, waiting, when Daz came over.

"Don't get ideas," Daz would say when he stopped fucking Stefan's face and would stand still when Stefan sucked him off. "You're a sex aid, nothing more. You got that?"

"Yes, sir," Stefan breathed at the ceiling, deep in his fantasy. His fingers were damp-but they wouldn't be. Daz wouldn't let him touch himself. If Stefan wanted to come, he had to do it on Daz's cock. Sometimes, Daz would hold him face- down on the mattress or the carpet, and Stefan could rub himself off as Daz fucked him. But sometimes, Daz wanted to see his face, and then he would hold Stefan helpless, never touching his dick.

"This isn't for you," he'd say. "I own you. I own your pleasure. And I'm not interested in using that."

"Please, sir," Stefan whimpered-in his fantasy, and for real. "Please let me come, sir, please, please, please..."

In the beginning, Daz would never allow it. But now, sometimes, he did. He'd make Stefan lie on the mattress, just like this, and tell him to touch himself. Tell him that he wanted everything Daz did to him, because he could get off just by Daz talking to him. Tell him that he could have all the pleasure he wanted-but if he came, he would owe Daz two in return. And when Stefan came, which he would, Daz would pick the most painful way to fuck him. He'd pick a way to make Stefan

scream.

And when Stefan was done screaming, and had cum staining his face and thighs, Daz would lie on top of him, just pinning him down, and ask him what he wanted.

"More," Stefan whispered-then imagined the sting of the slap. Wrong answer. Not more, never more, because "Nothing, my wants aren't important, I want whatever you want-"

And then Daz would push back into him, and—

Stefan came, shaking and sweaty despite the cold. The cage on the door was suddenly a promise. The deep voice in his memory was suddenly a need, and even as the aftershocks of his orgasm rolled away, he wanted more. He wanted to be filled, fucked, used, discarded, kept, owned, commandeered, he wanted to be a thing, wanted to belong...

He scrambled blindly for the phone. The cold air washed over his arse, punishing him for his desire-but for once, Stefan didn't care. So he was fucked up and sick-so what? He'd be sick if it would give him that reality; he'd be disgusting if it could give him that painful pleasure...

I imagined you kept me locked in my flat like a sex slave for use when your partner is out of town and I got off to it.

The text was a rush of emotion and longing, and the moment he sent it, Stefan regretted it. He could have maybe persuaded Daz into sex, maybe, from the two kisses they'd shared, but-

The phone rang, and Stefan jumped so hard he dropped it.

"Shit! Shit-shit-shit-hello?"

"Don't ever text me again."

His heart stopped beating. The air vanished, the vacuum left behind even colder. He was standing in the middle of his living room, wet cock and fingers slowly chilling, in nothing but a T-shirt-and that voice stopped him dead, not even twenty-four hours after he'd first heard it.

"What part of, I have a plaything already, did you not understand?"

"I do understand it," Stefan whispered, "but I want you anyway."

"You want me to cheat?"

Stefan closed his eyes. Fuck, yes. Yes, he did, and he felt sick even thinking it. He didn't want to be that guy. He'd told himself he'd never be that guy. He always skipped over guys on hook-up sites that said they had boyfriends or girlfriends and thought them scum.

But-

"Yes."

"For you?"

"To use me. I'm not asking for anything more."

"What are you asking for?"

"I just—I just masturbated imagining you'd come to my flat and fuck me like I was a sex slave. Lock me in naked, and only bring me food when you'd come to use me. Fuck me any way you wanted, whenever you wanted, and hurt me and beat me and—and you were so nice and normal with your boyfriend, you let your dark side out on me, and it had to be a secret so nobody else could ever even know I existed, and..."

"Is that what you want?"

Stefan whimpered.