Tags m/m, Reluc, Oral, Cons

Chapter II


Ryan darted forward after breaking eye contact with the bigger syn, making his way back to the kitchen, sliding the last two or three feet on his socks, gliding to a smooth stop on the glassy granite floor in front of the stove. His hands moved almost without input from his brain, plating two salads on gleaming china, and setting forth seven different dressings between them onto a serving tray. He tread more carefully on his trip back out to the dining room, making sure he wouldn’t slip on the hardwood.

Practiced hands slid the salads smoothly in place in front of Mark first, then his guest. He noted with some interest that the other skinjob was seated in a chair next to her, and that the pillow he had brought down earlier was next to Mark’s chair. Next went the dressings, and he wordlessly set his owner’s favorite onto the table, and the other six neatly within reach of the red haired woman two seats away, keeping away from Jared’s side of the table for now.

“What would you like to drink sir?” He aimed the question not with his face, speaking quietly out of the corner of his mouth, eyes finding a spot on the floor to watch intently.

Mark looked across to guest. “Marie? Do you have a preference? I’m sorry to say my cellar is not as well stocked as I would like, I simply don’t make the time to get out to the vineyard.”

“Do you have a good Chardonnay?” She inquired, a smile tweaking at the edges of her mouth as though there was some joke to this for her.

Ryan hesitated only a moment, mentally willing a picture of the available vintages to mind. “The seventy four from Wente, and the seventy five from Finger Lakes.”

She sighed, not dramatically, but not disappointed either. “The seventy five then, bring the bottle out here, Jared still needs to learn to open them correctly.”

“Very good, thank you.” Ryan quietly acknowledged as he left, hoping he hadn’t just been set up to clean up the bottle’s contents. He made his way down to the cool mid-basement and obtained the bottle, a sommelier knife, but his limbs froze in place with the sound of a thump and a muffled yelp from the dining room.

He cautiously returned, cradling the bottle in one hand and the knife in the other, rounding the corner to catch sight of Jared returning to his chair, an angry blue and black patch blossoming on the side of his head. He looked much more subdued, but the sight still set Ryan on edge.

“Give it to Jared.” She stated simply, not even turning to look at him.



The bottle was outstretched to him, and he took it in one hand, then the tool in the other. Mark cleared his throat, and Ryan turned back to look at him. His salad plate was half diminished, fork in one hand, napkin sitting on the table in the other.

“You’re forgetting something Ryan.” He spoke simply, lifting another dark leaf to his mouth and eating it slowly.

Ryan opened his mouth to say something, stopped, and shut it, headed back for the kitchen, and began to fill a carafe with water. Most of his attention was focused on listening, waiting for a crash, or a shout, or something else indicating a spill. After filling the pitcher, he took a moment to fill a small bowl with ice cubes, and a pair of small tongs.

No sooner did he return to the dining room then did Jared finally uncork the bottle. The pop echoed merrily through the room, nearly sending the bowl of ice to the floor in surprise. He held it through force of will, filling both diner’s glasses with water and leaving the ice within reach of anyone at the table. Jared poured the wine for the two.

The meal proceeded mostly without incident. The two diners finished their salads shortly, conversing in what Ryan determined to be an artificially shallow conversation about vague and dull topics, and never about anything in particular. Mark sat back in his chair after finishing his plate, looking at Marie, who had similarly finished. She spoke first. “Jared, help Ryan with the main course, please.”

The syn blinked, then stood, sliding smoothly from his chair and walking towards the kitchen, followed closely by the younger teen. The door swung smoothly into place behind them, and Jared spoke as the food was plated. “I am pretty sure this next part is where you and I get to know each other.” He smiled a little, mood apparently fluctuated from his earlier bravado. “At least, I hope so.”

Ryan returned a blank look, hoping to hide his uncertainty.. his fear. “I, yea, sure. I think?” He mumbled, finishing arranging Marie’s plate of the roasted chicken and steamed vegetables, handing it to the other. “Can you.. can you try not to hurt me?” He asked, busying his hands and eyes with the work of putting together Mark’s plate, but Jared had already left, the swinging door settling back. He wiped his hands on his palms and took a deep breath, then fixed a blank smile to his face and walked back outside, sliding Mark’s plate in front of him.

“Chicken Marseilles and steamed garden medley.” He announced in a steady voice, standing next to Mark. “I hope it is acceptable, please enjoy.” He finished, voice waivering on the last syllable. Marie smiled, eating a slice of carrot slowly, held eye contact with him, looking into him, and, he realized in a moment of near panic, reading into him. Mark had shared him.



“Ryan, Jared. Jared, Ryan.” Mark spoke, smiling, methodically disassembling his chicken into smaller chunks with a fork and knife. “Please, Ryan, you’re too well dressed for the occasion. Jared, if you’d be so kind as to help him with that problem?”

The older teen moved from his mistress’s side, approaching Ryan with a sly smile. “Yes sir.” He stopped short of the fair skinned syn in front of him, reaching down to lift Ryan’s shirt up and out of the way. “Ryan, will you hold this up please?”

His hands found their way, almost numbly, up to the shirt, holding the white cotton out of the way, exposing his pale chest, almost displaying his nipples. His heart caught in his throat as the Jared’s calloused hands made contact in the center of his chest and slowly moved downward, sending shivers racing down his spine and legs, back up to his chest, and out to his arms, making his fingers tingle momentarily.

“You don’t have to fight me, but it will be a lot more fun if you do.” Jared spoke, voice mingling with the sound of clinking silverware on china plates. Ryan didn’t rise to the taunt, slightly pudgy stomach moving in and out with his breathing pattern. The bigger syn snapped his fingers in front of Ryan’s closed eyes. “Hey, don’t hide in there. You have to feel this, pay attention.” His words still gained nothing from the nearly trembling figure. He looked up to Mark, then to Marie.

Mark spoke first. “Ryan. Open your eyes. Stop trying to block this out, I won’t warn you again.” Ryan’s eyes opened quickly at this, and he blinked twice, pupils dilating and contracting, before focusing on Jared.

A tussle of bleach blond hair fell into Jared’s face as he looked down, fingers seeking out the button and zipper securing the jeans to the teen’s frame. Finally, after deliberately taking his time, he found them, and undid the button, sliding the zipper down in a slow, careful motion. The denim, freed of the friction near Ryan’s hips, slid instantly down to his ankles in a crumpled pile. His legs, now exposed, are pale from too little time spent outside, and totally hairless, skin smooth except for the small goosebumps that formed rapidly on contact with the cool air.

Jared stepped back, reaching out with one foot to pull the pillow across the floor, leaving it near his feet. “Now, Mark, your generous, kind, and understanding owner, has reserved most of you for himself. I think you should thank him for that later. For now, though, I get to use your mouth.” He pointed downward, toward the pillow. “Come here Ryan.”

Ryan fell forward onto his knees, letting the pillow cushion his fall, looking up at Jared, head at the perfect height for his task. He reached up, hand stopping inches away from the button on the cargo shorts. “May I please undo these?” He asked quietly, earning a snort of laughter from Mark. He ignored his owner, looking up at Jared, doing his best to look innocent and subdued. “And anything under them?”


“You’re the only one I’ve ever seen who wears underwear, faggot. But yea, you can have at it. Don’t stop until I finish, or until someone else tells you to stop.” Jared nearly breathed this out, a visible bulge beginning to form in his light brown pants. Ryan reached for the button and undid it with smooth, small fingers, gently shaking them loose, and freeing Jared’s member, which sprang up as it was released, barely missing Ryan’s face.

All things considered, Ryan mused, it wasn’t that bad. It was well trimmed, clean, and a reasonable size. He wet his lips with his tongue, leaned in, and licked the tip. It didn’t taste awful either, not like some of the others. His hands slid upward, caressing Jared’s waist and hips, fingers deftly working inward, finding the shaft and curling around it, letting it throb in his hands, absorbing the warmth. He stroked slowly as his tongue fell across the smooth, uncut head of the cock he was tasked with servicing. A moment’s work passed before he interlaced his fingers, taking up more of the length in them with each stroke. He took his time widening his jaw, welcoming the heated, leaking tip into his mouth, tongue dancing back and forth across the head, seeking out the small slit, and the seamlike concentration of nerves on the underside of the head near the shaft.

Jared reached out and grabbed a fistful of Ryan’s brown hair, drawing the youth deeper onto his shaft. A low groan escaped his lips, and he closed his eyes, using his handhold to control the pace. He continued pressing his length into the syn’s mouth, only stopping when the cockhead bumped into his throat, inducing a gag reflex which Ryan admirably suppressed, barely letting on what had just happened.

Ryan leaned up and forward, and tilted his head back, ignoring everything but the waist in front of him, and the thick shaft of meat threatening to impale his throat. He swallowed slowly, coaxing it slightly further into him before pushing back. Jared held him in place. “No backsies.” Was his response as he tightened his grip, fingernails pushing on Ryan’s head. He didn’t nod, choosing instead to search out something, anything with his tongue to get a better reaction. His hands continued to stroke in unison, reaching to his lips, then back to the hilt, creating a cycle, one he sought to match with his tongue.

I’m being good.. See? I didn’t forget Mark, I remembered your lessons, I’m behaving.. I’m being good..

The thoughts floated in and out of his head, fighting for attention with the constant adjustments his tongue and mouth had to make to keep up the motions. The precum was leaking more frequently now, and the breathing was more labored he noted with satisfaction.

I-I’m a good cocksucker He mused as he began to suck, cheeks flexing inward and slurping as air found a path in around the cock and his lips. The member glistened where his spit stuck to it, and small, sharp moans emanated from his throat as his tongue danced I remembered, I should sound happy.. I am happy.. I like it..

Jared demonstrated his appreciation with a sudden and forceful climax, choking Ryan with a large spurt of warm cum. The cock was so far entrenched in his mouth, he didn’t even get a chance to taste it, at least on the way down. He coughed and retched as it continued to go. Oh.. Oh, he does extra Ryan noted distantly as a rising wave of the goop was forced out of his mouth around the cock by his throat, dribbling down his shirt, onto the pillow. I’ll have to clean that. He realized, followed by another, more pressing realization Hey, this air isn’t working anymore.. I need more now... He began to push with both hands on Jared’s hips, but his efforts proved fruitless. Finally, he pulled back, letting Ryan draw in a shuddering gasp of air.

Mark cleared his throat. “When you’re quite finished, Ryan, the table needs clearing. Marie and I are going out to the patio to discuss some things. Don’t be wearing that mess when you join us.” He spoke as he stood, pushing his chair back and walking off, followed by Marie some seconds later, clutching her wineglass with a grin on her face.

Ryan simply lay there, breathing heavily, the side of his head laying in the pool of cum and water. Jared cleaned his cock off on the smaller syn’s shirt and walked off after his Mistress, granting the last occupant of the room an interlude alone.

Tags: F/m, slow, reluc, pegging. Incidental M/m oral.

Chapter III

Tags

Ryan lay, only for a moment.

He said to get up. You have to clean that up and go after him. But he said when I was finished.. You know exactly what he meant. You have to get up and go. Can’t I just lay here for a few more minutes? This will only get worse if you take too long. You know better than that. You can make him happy if you follow his orders. He’s nice when he’s happy.

With that thought echoing in his head, he drew himself slowly to a sitting position, stripping his socks from his feet, he set them on his pants, which he set to one side of the room. His shirt followed, white cotton drizzled with the wet, sticky fluid Jared had left behind. He paused with the shirt in mid hand, and used it to wipe up the slowly spreading pool of semen he’d been unable to swallow. The shirt then followed the pants on the sideline, folded haphazardly, dampening the fabric under them.

He stood up, and began clearing the table. He worked quickly, methodically, and precisely, and the work was done shortly, leaving behind a spotless table, and the small pile of clothes. A glance around the room set his mind at ease, temporarily at least. He returned to the kitchen and leaned down into the ample sink and began to wash his hair out. A hard pressure made contact with his head, then his left shoulder, then something touched his body down along the back.

“You just wash up in the sink like that?” Jared asked, leaning down and using his size to pin Ryan against the counter, and keep his head under the stream. “It’s a good solution, but doesn’t it leave the sink a little dirty?”

Ryan sputtered as the water ran into his open mouth, and no matter which way he twisted his head or body, Jared held him in place. “Not normally!” he coughed out, “But it was easier! Lemme up!” He felt the slick mess of the goop slide down his hair, down onto his cheek, and slowly down to his chin, viscous seed resisting the water’s influence.

“You really present yourself well, you know that?” Jared chuckled. He pushed Ryan down until the fair skinned teen’s head was touching the dull steel basin. “All.. exposed. Bent over. It’s really teasing.” He pressed his hips forward, trapping Ryan’s frame between the countertop and his own body.

Ryan felt it after that, the solid rod, dry now, still uncovered, rubbing at his ass through the soft cotton of his underwear. One hand removed itself from his shoulder and made contact with his stomach, triggering an involuntary shiver from the base of his neck all the way down his spine, cascading goosebumps outward to his fingertips. “Mark said you couldn’t..” Ryan protested, barely audible over the running water.


“Yes, he did. He also told me to see what was taking you so long.” Jared countered, sliding Ryan’s underwear down past the point the elastic could hold them, they fell just like his pants had earlier. He smiled at the feeling of his cock resting against Ryan’s bare skin, savoring it for a moment. “Mistress told me to get another two glasses and a bottle of moscato.” He hooked his arms under the other’s shoulders, lifting his body up and away, and holding him tightly in place.

Ryan swallowed hard, heart thumping in his chest. “I.. the bottles are under the cabinets around the corner. Moscato will be in the middle.. I should pick it..” He shifted on his feet, trying to unseat the cock lodged partially between his cheeks. It felt almost alien to him, he couldn’t quite remember what it was like, the feeling was like looking through a cloud. “And the glasses are on the left of the refrigerator. Top shelf.” He tried to pull himself free, and was relieved when he was allowed. Jared’s cock trailed a small rope of pre that broke as the two moved away from each other, leaving a glistening dot on the small of Ryan’s back.

Ryan kneeled, looking through the selection. As he looked at the labels on the clear bottles, he heard the clinking of the two glasses, and he felt Jared brush past. He picked out a bottle, and carried it back with him to retrieve the mahogany handled sommelier knife, resting inside a drawer near the sink. He hefted it in his hand as he walked out to the patio, looking at the inlaid silver filigree. The blade was on one side, honed to a fine edge to cut away wax, paper, and in one excruciatingly unfortunate punishment, skin. The corkscrew, on the other side, was much simpler to Ryan, much less dangerous, and he recalled no injuries associated with it.

He exited the house, looking out to the rear of Mark’s yard. The sight that greeted him nearly sent him into a despondent spiral of depression. He saw, unchanged, five pine trees, six birch trees, two oak trees, one apple tree, and three mulberry bushes. Three million, seven hundred and eighty four thousand, nine hundred and twenty six leaves. His legs carried him towards the grove on the other side of the bushes, and he looked up at the oak trees. He watched the branches sway left.. then right.. and then left again, and then the bird chirped. It carried on for a moment, and the branches swayed, right, left, steady. He knew the patterns, the sounds of the birds, and cycles they all occurred on.

Ryan knew there were no oak trees, no pine trees, no birch trees. There was no bird, and there were no clouds. The neurons in his brain connecting his eyes and ears to his memory and frontal cortex were being interrupted by his nanos. Their stored information what was transmitted, not what his senses actually knew was real. Mark’s whims simulated his entire reality outside. He knew it was mid-evening, but beyond that, nothing, even his location or proximity to any cities. He shook his head, willing away the wave of panic, rounding the bushes to the small covered wood patio.




Mark and Marie sat at a table. Jared was nowhere to be seen, but the glasses were on the table. Mark called out to him. “Ryan! Good of you to join us!” He stretched out, reaching out above his head and yawning. It was then that Ryan spotted Jared, kneeling at Mark’s feet, between his owner's legs, mouth and hands wrapped around his cock. Ryan suppressed a smile and approached the table, swiftly opening the bottle and pouring some into each glass.

Marie lifted the glass to her lips and sipped as Mark groaned. “Mark tells me you maintain the gardens too?” She inquired, looking around at the flower beds near the head height, painted, cinderblock wall blocking his view of the outside.

He nodded. “Yes ma’am, and I’m good at it.” He smiled softly, setting the bottle down onto the glass topped table, standing naked in the receding sunlight.

"Please, walk with me." She replied, standing, glass in hand. "I have some questions for you."

Ryan nodded, scurrying along behind her. "I'm all ears ma'am".

She wandered over to the rose bushes, looking them over. "Care to tell me about yourself?" She enquired, not looking at him.

Ryan paused for a moment, considering the question. Me? Which me? What about me "Me? ma'am?" he fumbled out slowly, looking at her for instructions.

"Did you not understand my question, Ryan?" She returned, leaning down to smell one of the buds.

"No, I'm sorry! What I meant, ma'am, was that I was that I was surprised. My.. my parents died when I was young, and I lived on the street for a year or two before I fell into Mark's backyard.." He related with closed eyes, subconsciously moving his 'injured' shoulder up and down. "I've been here ever since.. I'm sorry I don't know how long that is.." Yea, fell in like an apple falls into a shopping cart he thought, then doubled back, N-not that I resent the accommodations. . "Does that answer your question..?"

She shrugged noncommittally. "Enough for my purposes at least. Do you know how old you are?" She stood, turning to face him, eyes watching his face.

"Fifteen..?" He slowly let out, face scrunched slightly to one side.

She laughed and turned, walking back to the patio "Close, very close." She stood next to the table, watching Mark receive attention from Jared. She cleared her throat standing behind him. "Mark, do you mind if I retire?" She asked, amusement in her voice obvious.


"What? Oh, yea, sure." He replied distantly, grabbing a fistful of Jared's hair and pushing his toy's head down further.

Marie nodded to Ryan. "Off we go then." She began walking towards the house, leaving an unspoken command to the younger syn.

"What about Jared?" Ryan cautiously inquired, keeping step behind her. This was so... abnormal. Mark never had guests over for dinner, and they certainly never stayed the night. You are getting older. He doesn't want you anymore. She's here to buy you. No, because.. because no.. He thought, nearly walking into the closing door in his distracted state.

"Where did you put the box from earlier? I want you to get it, and bring it to the guest bedroom." She stated, slowly climbing the staircase. "Mark's getting his. I want mine." She finished, in a tone Ryan could only identify as nearly feral glee.

He swallowed and nodded, turning to retrieve the box from its corner. He bent over to pick it up, and tried to determine what was shaking inside. It bumped against his member as he walked, calling his attention again to his lack of protection, and he shivered. He didn't drag his feet though, and as he padded barefoot upstairs, he knew that sloth was worse than fear.

He rounded the corner and stepped through the open door, and stood, waiting. "Where should I put this ma'am?" He asked quietly, averting his eyes.

"On the bed for now" She replied, running the water in the connected bathroom. "You may open and unpack it for me."

He nodded dumbly to himself and undid the silvery clasps holding the box closed. A harness, a collar, two collars, cuffs.. four of them. He arranged them on the bedspread, sorting them from least to most desirable, at least as far as he was considered. He saw no blades, which comforted him to a degree.

She emerged from the bathroom shortly thereafter, and he looked up and saw what she was wearing, paying attention for the first time. She had washed the makeup from her face, exposing light olive skin and almond shaped brown eyes. Her dark red shoulder length hair was tied back into a ponytail. As they looked at each other for that moment, he came to make the assumption that she had dyed it, something about it felt off to him.
She set her hands on her hips, covered by navy blue slacks, professional looking slacks. "I don't suppose there's a frame handy?" She smiled, holding eye contact with him.

"Not in here ma'am. There's part of one in the basement. I don't think Master ever finished building it." He carefully answered, bowing his head slightly and doing his best to appear submissive. "There's.." He faltered for a moment "Eye bolts on the wall.. behind the door. And near the bed posts."

"I'm a little surprised you gave that info up. Are you still scared of me?" She smiled, beginning to pull her light gray sweater off, exposing a white t-shirt, and releasing her breasts from the sweater, letting them press firmly against her bra and the shirt.

"No ma'am, not scared, I wasn't scare-"

She cut him off with a slap. "You lied again; I let it go in the garden because everybody gets one with me. Hold your arms out." Marie bent over, retrieving two cuffs from the bed and securing Ryan's pale wrists together. He said nothing.

Next, she separated out a strand of twine from a pile, grasped his thumbs together, and tied them, nearly cutting off his circulation. "Would you like to play a game with me, you little slut?" She asked, leaning down to inches from his face, one clothed thigh rubbing his cock, letting it harden.

"No.. no ma'am." He breathed out, hedging that lying was worse than refusal. He thought for one terrifying second she was going to strike him when she drew back, but she merely passed a length of rope through the rings on his arm band.

Her lips grazed his as she tied a knot in the rope, barely making contact, letting her nose rest next to his. He felt the remnants of lipstick as she pulled away again. "Honestly? You're not curious?" She baited, smiling.

"I can live with my curiosity." He replied simply, holding his arms out, nearly in her lap. "It doesn't hurt to stay curious."

She nodded, dragging his arms upward as she stood. "I can accept that." She stepped forward, pressing him back a step, again, again, and once more against the wall. He arched his back to keep clear of the cool surface as much as possible.

His hands rose further, dragged higher by the length of rope passed through the eye bolt above his head, until he had to stand on the tip of his feet to keep contact with the ground. He groaned silently, gripping the rope between his fingers and testing how much of his weight it would hold. Not much, no more than last time he reasoned, trying to calm his breathing, to not show anxiety, to not show weakness.

Marie dragged one fingernail from his chin, down his chest, across a rib, slowly across one of his nipples, smiling at the goosebumps she saw on his arms and chest. She continued the movement, tracing back inwards, teasingly venturing down to his stomach, watching it flatten and stiffen as he fruitlessly tried to keep still. Finally, she reached his cock and grasped it, stroking it fully along its length. “How often do you get attention like this?” She cooed, lightly dragging her nails across the head.

"Never..never like this." He murmured.

She let go and he nearly fell forward. "You lied to me, twice. How many strikes is that worth?" Her hair bounced as she turned back to the bed, picking up a thin rod of dark polished wood.

"I.." He faltered, closing his eyes and looking away. Ohgodohgodohgodohgod what number.. how many.. "Six.." He started, peeking out of the corner of one eye at her, and she started to open her mouth. "Each time! Twelve total!" He pre-empted, struggling to keep an even tone of voice.

"Six sounds like a good number for you." She smiled. "But you forgot that I had forgiven one, in the garden, so it's just six. Turn around, I promised Mark I wouldn't bruise your face."

Ryan's heart raced in his chest, though his member continued to bob up a little with every beat. "I don't.. Can I get.. How can I show I'm sorry.. I learned my lesson, you don't have to.. to.." He choked up, and bit his lip, drawing in a muted whimper of air.

She leaned in, close to his ear, pushing the rod lengthwise across his chest, connecting his pert nipples to the cool surface. "Make me believe that you're sorry." She spoke softly, cheek touching his, listening to him struggle to keep his composure.

He stammered a multitude of apologies and pleas, and she listened to the running river of apologies. She listened to his words, but what she heard was the little seed of hope growing in him, she reveled in it, nodding encouragingly. She drew back, looking at him, looking into his eyes, one thigh pressed loosely against his cock, keeping the rod touched to his nipples. Finally, she interrupted him. “You’ll learn to do better, I’m sure. For now, I’m not even sure you remember the lie. You’re just sorry you got caught. Turn around.. Now.”

You don’t own me.. you can’t.. you can’t.. He thought, fighting fruitlessly. After a moment, he realized he had turned, leaning his forehead on the cool wall. He grit his teeth as she drew back further, breathing in through his nose and tensing his whole bac-

Ryan saw stars, so focused on preparing himself that he didn’t hear the rod swing down. It landed solidly on his shoulder blades, and he yelped in surprise. It began to welt instantly, an angry red line rising to the surface. He listened this time, and flinched as the second one came down, crossing the first.





“You know, normally, Ryan, you’re supposed to count these out loud.” Marie chuckled, voice sounding slightly deeper than a moment ago. “You don’t have to, I don’t need to hear you scream tonight.” She landed another blow, lower, letting the tip of the rod scrape across his back for an inch or two. He whimpered, shaking, relying on his hands to hold him up, and they gripped the rope dutifully. She raised it up again and struck him a third time, adding another red line to his back. “Don’t turn around. I didn’t plan this out as well as I should have.” She mumbled, reaching down to release the button and zipper on her pants, tugging them away and kicking them to the foot of the bed. Ryan started to turn his head, and she dealt the fourth strike, more viciously than before. “Mind your manners, don’t look at a lady while she’s undressing.”

He let his head fall forward and hang, chin touching his chest, not a word spoken. He listened though, he listened to the cloth rustling, first from below, then above. Pants.. Shirt.. Bra? Bra.. Panties.. He was rewarded for his troubles with another lash, but, he noted with some interest, either he was already numbing, or that one hadn’t been as hard. One more.. and then. What? Ryan mused, realizing he had no idea.

She finished the thought for him with the last strike from the wooden tool, letting it clatter to the floor, using her free hands to rub his back. He jumped at the feeling of her hands on the new injuries, again biting his lip. Her nails raked the welts, lining them with smaller scratches. “What did we just learn Ryan?” She smiled, gently nudging his head back into place as he tried to turn it to look at her. “Eyes forward.”

“I learned not to get caught lying.” He volunteered after a moment’s reflection, earning him a small bout of laughter from her. She leaned against his back, pressing her skin against his, and he shivered again, the warmth of her body mingling and drawing from his own. And then, like a bolt from the blue, he realized that wasn’t all that was pressing against him. That feels suspiciously like..

“A penis?” She finished for him, biting his neck. “Don’t worry, it’s not the real deal. Doesn’t mean it won’t feel like one.” She continued, aligning her toy with his rear. He resisted the feeling, clenching against the head of it, but in the end, without any leverage, his arms stretched high above his head, feet barely touching the ground, she popped the head in.

Ryan sucked in a breath sharply, looking down to find her hands wrapped around his cock, stroking it in short motions. He didn’t have his virginity, not physically, but the memories of being fucked were so foggy his brain began to replace them immediately. He let his eyes roll back and slide closed as she breathed heavily against him, one hand constantly pumping his member, the other holding his chest close to her. Marie relentlessly dug in with the strapon, pushing all five and a half inches of lubricated synthetic rubber into him, feeling him squirm under it. She wondered if he found the irony as arousing as she did. She doubted it.



Bottoming out accomplished, she set her hips to draw the fake cock back out, listening to him breathe, and whimper, and fight his body. “Let yourself go Ryan, this is happening, feel it..” She groaned, “You can probably enjoy it, but I won’t force you to.” He didn’t respond, and peeking into his head didn’t yield anything, just white space. Marie smiled a little, the strapon’s base grinding pleasantly against her netherlips, taunting her with little shivers of that moment she was striving for. She tightened her grip on his cock as she stroked it, peering back into his head and looking through her limited access for his arousal, dragging the slider forward, listening to the tone of his little noises increase. “I lied, but it’s a privilege.” She breathed out.

Marie stood behind the fair skinned teen, holding his body close to her as she rocked her hips back and forth, sawing at him with a blue rubber strapon held in place by a small set of black straps. It rubbed her groin invasively, pushing back at her just as much as she pushed into him. She marveled at the mounting orgasm his body began to display, and she stroked him that much harder. She dragged it away from him, eliciting a low, feminine moan from Ryan for her troubles. The noise set her brain on edge, and she felt herself grow frustratingly close. This piece of ass was better than Jared, Mark hardly ever used his syn, he just coddled it and let it maintain the house. He never really layed into it, never really bent it over a counter and fucked it.

The feeling was there and she concentrated on it, that little spark. Ryan accidentally set it off when he moaned out a pleading question “I.. I want one too.. please.. please Ma’am..”. It was Marie’s turn to see stars as the cascade in her brain took over, wrippling through her. She stiffened, holding her breath, quietly letting the moment mount, then begin to receed, leaving her in a wine amplified afterglow.

She let go of his throbbing member, leaving him seconds from his own edge, and ignoring his renewed pleas, she stepped back, wresting the strapon from his ass and stood, breathing heavily. “Later, perhaps.” Marie unclasped the harness holding the toy to her waist and unscrewed it from its base, still slick with the lube, and pressed it to his lips from behind. “I need to cool off.. Keep that there for me.”

His protests became muffled as he clamped down on it, holding the textured head of it in his mouth and leaning against the wall. He strained to listen, but she seemed to have already left. For the third time that day, he was alone with his thoughts. Ryan heard the shower pressure come on in the next room and sighed slowly, pitifully, but most importantly, quietly.

Comments, criticism, etc, all welcome!

This is even better science fiction than erotica, and Ryan is a very sympathetic character. Honestly, I hope he gains his freedom, and some justice, and that, through him, we see the wider world that he lives in.

End Syn Slavery Now! Full Civil Rights for Syns!

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What other pairings would be more interesting to read about then? Combinations of M/m don't draw much interest here I noticed.