When the fingers slide out, my body twitches, muscles flex, and I try to push the ice out. But it’s slow and awful, like taking a shit while hanging in the air, tied up and gagged and drooling. The angle makes it worse. The shame makes it better. Fuck, I don’t know.
And then there’s a mouth again, warm and wet andright fucking there. I feel the soft heat of it open against my hole, lips sealing around me. And I know—I fuckingknow—that the ice I just forced out slid into that mouth. The idea of it, of someone actuallycatching it, sucking it down, makes me gag on the cock again.
It’s disgusting and degrading.
And it’s hot as fuck.
The cube is gone, melted or swallowed, and now that mouth is back, licking over the raw, shocked skin.
“He’s noisy,” one of them says because, yeah, I’m so turned on I can’t shut the fuck up even with my mouth in use.
The cock in my mouth pulls out halfway just so someone can spit in. Right on my tongue. Then slams in again. I groan around it, eyes watering, neck on fire from being yanked side to side like a fuck doll. No control. Just spit and gag and breathless moans.
Someone’s tweaking my nipples now, pinching and twisting, making me jolt and tremble. Another body slides up under me, licking the sensitive head of my cock and sucking the shaft below the ropes.
Behind me, the mouth leaves my hole and it clenches around nothing. Then a cock presses in. It’s not big, but it’s fast, sloppy, like they’re desperate.
Someone else comes to the front, and the cock in my mouth is pulled out and slapped against my cheek. I don’t even get a second to breathe. Another one is pushing in already.
Somewhere past the blur of cocks and fingers and tongues, past the slick sounds and the burn in my jaw and the ache in my gut, I catch a glimpse of Naoya-san again, drink in one hand now.
I don’t know when he got the drink. Maybe he went to the bar. Maybe someone brought it to him. Fuck if I know. I’m too busy choking on cock, getting slapped across the ass, stretched wide, sweating, trembling, gagging… and all that for him.
Every time I get dragged by the hair into another cock, every time my body rocks from the force of someone’s hips slamming into my ass or someone licking the underside of my trapped cock like they’re in love with the taste of it—I try to see anything on that face. Pride. Disgust. Approval. Lust. Anything.
I can’t tell how long I’ve been tied. I know my cock’s been hard for ages and still can’t come. I know my throat is fucking raw and still keeps getting used. I know my ass is sore, open and wet, but I think only one person actually fucked it. All the rest were just mouths, fingers, a fucking ice cube.
My head whips again to a new cock, and in that swing of vision, I see some pretty, small man crawling on all fours toward Naoya-san like he thinks he’s worthy. Like he fucking thinks he’s earned this right like I did. He reaches for his thigh, delicate fingers stretching out like Naoya-san’s some untouchable deity he can tempt.
And something ugly rises up in me.
It’s ridiculous. I’m here, suspended, wide open, being used like a communal fuckhole, and that—that—makes me jealous?
Yeah. It does.
It fucking does.
I bite down on the ugly sound crawling up my throat, pissed off and breathless. I want to call out. I want to sayhe’s mine, even if that’s not how this shit works.
But Naoya-san doesn’t even look at him.
He just slaps his hand away.
The look the man gives him is half-offended, half-hurt, but Naoya-san doesn’t give a single fuck, his gaze still on me.
And that feels good. Even more than the fucking in my ass.
Time passes, and the condoms disappear one by one.
They pass me between them like I’m an object. Use my mouth until it aches. Use my ass until I can’t even feel the difference between fingers or cock or toy anymore. My skin is raw from slaps, from friction, from too many hands petting and gripping and kneading.
Clamps bite at my nipples now, a steady pulse of pain that somehow blends with the deeper ache in my ass, the stinging rawness of my lips, the bruised stretch of my jaw still forced wide open around the ring gag. Someone poured wax on my back—hot, shocking, then dull as it cooled.
Everything is blurred.
Hands, mouths, fingers, teeth. Pressure. Burn. Slap. Shove. Lick. Praise. Filth. No names. No faces.
My abs twitch from overstimulation. My arms burn from being suspended so long. My cock still bound, still swollen and purple and useless.
