I’m gone.
Not just high—gone.
Mind somewhere else, floating just under the surface, with no way to speak and no control over how I’m used.
I hear one of them laugh. “Last one,” someone says, and there’s a little cheer. A sick little celebration that crawls into my ears and lodges there. The final packet disappears from the rope on my left thigh, and then the cock is up my ass, fucking me hard and fast. There’s a grunt behind me, skin slapping skin, a final groan and nothing else.
The last one.
Then the lights shift from blood-hot red to soft green.
And just like that, they vanish. All the hands, the mouths, the hunger. Like I imagined them.
Thenhishands are there.
Naoya-san’s palms cradle my face with that gentleness only he has with me—like I’m not a fucked-out mess hanging by rope, covered in spit, but something he cares about.
“You did a good job,” he says.
I blink at him, drool still sliding down my chin. My jaw aches, my head’s fuzzy. His thumbs brush under my eyes, catching sweat or tears—I’m not even sure which.
“Was it too much?”
I shake my head. Or I think I do. My body’s slow on the response, but it gets there eventually.
He touches my cheek again, studying me.
“Are your limbs numb?”
It takes a second.
I try to remember I have arms and legs. Try to shift just enough to register if they stillexist. There’s no pain, no pins and needles. Not numb. Still here.
I shake my head again.
“Can you take one more?”
Fuck, yes, I nod.
Eager and pathetic.
Naoya-san goes behind me and I think he’s tugging on the ropes again, because suddenly my whole body is shifting, rising. My arms strain for a second before the tension redistributes and suddenly I’m upright again, hanging vertically, legs still spread, the rope biting into my thighs in a way that feels sharper now. Gravity pulls differently like this. It makes my body ache in new places, makes it harder to breathe, harder to think, and I can feel my hole gaping wide, trying to close around nothing. But I can see around again like this, and I see the whole crowd, dozens of faces. Curious. Spent. Jerking.
Watching me.
Naoya-san’s hand brushes my inner thigh on the way to the thin red rope still coiled around my cock and balls. He handles it with care, untying each loop and twist slowly.
The moment the last loop loosens, my hips jolt forward without meaning to. My body is so sore it flinches away from the air, a broken sound escaping from my throat, and Naoya-san’s hand is there instantly, palming my cock, just resting over it, warm and dry and steady.
He strokes over my skin once, a small gesture, then he moves up.
His fingers find the clamps still attached to my nipples, and even though they’ve been on for what feels like forever, I barely feel them anymore.
Until they come off.
“Fuck—” I grunt, chest twisting up as blood rushes back into the skin like fire. It burns enough that I feel tears spring to my eyes, my whole chest tingling.
The gag comes off next. His fingers reach behind my head, loosening the straps, and then the ring slips out of my mouth.My jaw falls slack, and I close it slowly. It aches like hell. I roll it once and groan.
