Sex in C Major

"Tell me what you want."

The air was too thin. Stefan's chest was working too hard.

He wanted-

"I-I want you to use me like a sex aid," he whispered, and the words were both humiliating and hot as they left his mouth. "I want you to lock me in my bathroom until you have need of me. I want you to hurt me and tell me I like it, and you'll be right. I want you to-to own me, so I have to do what you say, no matter what it is, and when I disobey you, I want you to punish me."

"You want to submit to me."

"And I want you to make me."

"And you think I want that? Or I have time for that?"

"Please."

"I met you in a bar last night."

"And you should punish me for being out of control, then make me thank you for looking after me," Stefan whispered.

"You think you can tell me what to do?"

"No, Sir."

There was a long pause.

Then, quite suddenly: "Tomorrow morning, eight fifteen sharp, be at the house. No earlier, no later."

Stefan's heart leapt. "Really?"

"I don't like repeating myself."

"Um, no, Sir. Sorry, Sir. Um-what if I don't remember where it is?"

"Not my problem."

And the call cut out. 4

Stefan was crazy.

He had to be, he thought as he turned the corner onto the narrow street of terraced houses. He was walking into into God-knew-what. He was demanding a total stranger beat him and fuck him and use him. Stefan had never even had sex. He'd given one clumsy handjob in his life, to a kid in his Year Nine geography class, and had wanked on webcam a couple of times for guys in sex chat rooms. That was it. That was the depth of his experience.

Other people wanted vanilla sex and dating out of a hookup in a gay bar. But Stefan wanted this. He wanted to jump from nothing to Daz bending him over the end of the bed and fucking him like he was nothing but a sex doll.

What was he doing?

And yet he kept walking, step by step by step towards the house. A jogger had to go around him; a car hooted angrily as he walked out in front of it. He didn't care. The house was calling. The man inside was calling. The promise of his fantasies becoming real was calling.

And it was terrifying and stupid and utterly crazy...but Stefan just couldn't say no.

At exactly eight fifteen, the terror enough to make him throw up and the arousal so intense he could barely walk, Stefan knocked on the door.

Footsteps.

A key in a lock.

Then the door was jerked open, and a hand fisted in Stefan's coat and hauled him inside.

"Upstairs," Daz said, slamming the door. "Now. Nobody sees you."

Stefan scrambled to obey, almost running up the stairs, still in his coat and shoes. He was shoved back into the small bedroom from the night before, and the door slammed behind them.

"Strip," Daz said.

He was wearing jeans today, and a tight T-shirt that did nothing to hide his frame. His hair was ruffled, like someone had been running their hands through it. But when Stefan lifted his own to re-enact that potential history, they were slapped crudely down.

"I didn't say touch me. I said strip."

Stefan nodded and began to fumble with his clothes. Heat began to warm his face as he reached his jeans, and his dick began to swell as he shrugged out of his T-shirt and stood in nothing but his binder and boxers. "Strip."

"But-"

Daz raised his eyebrows.

Stefan snapped his mouth shut.

"Everything. Comes. Off."

Stefan's brain rebelled at the idea of removing the binder. Expose his breasts? He hated his breasts. If he got them out, Daz would touch them, play with them, call Stefan a woman or a girl or his pretty little bitch-

"Now!"

The bark was sharp, and Stefan found himself dropping his boxers before he was even aware he'd responded. Then the flush turned to mortification, and his fingers shook as he prised the binder free and the cool air of the room hit his breasts. He moved his hands up to cover them; Daz pulled them away and down.

"Nice," he said casually, almost uncaring, glancing up and down Stefan's naked body. His hand grazed along Stefan's cock, fingers brushing over his cunt. "Wet already. That'll make it easier for you."

Stefan licked his lips and slowly tightened his thighs around Daz's wrist.

"Nice try," Daz said, and pulled his hand away. He took a mobile phone out of his pocket, an old handset that Stefan wasn't even aware they made anymore, and dropped it on the bed. "It's on silent, it stays that way. Mine is the only number in it. You want out, you call me. Your word to get out of this is checkmate. Say it."

"Checkmate," Stefan whispered.