roneal | (no subject)

Exhaustion takes over at some point, when he's already lost count of how many men have had him. It's a good thing: He relaxes, warm waves rushing over him and his limbs slackening. Though it's easier to pull on him, it's no longer as painful as it used to be. Still unexpected whenever someone tugs or yanks on some part of him, but he's unwound and while all the sudden movements he's forced to take make him dizzy, it's easier to accept for his body and mind.

The only moment when he flexes his arms, a brief return of tension, is when come splatters over him. He moans, involuntarily, right afterwards. This is something he's pictured happening and been looking forward to. And now it's actually happening, drops of come running down the small of his back. Stupidly, he smiles and whispers a thank you, knowing full well the man who did it may have already left. He feels drunk, but all he's had the past days is water and tea, enough to keep him energized throughout the night.

It looks like he's going to need it.

Keening when the latest guy changes his pace, his lips readily part the second a hand fondles his cheek. Shinjirou doesn't need to hear to know what's going to happen next; his mouth is watering, neck stretched out in anticipation and he doesn't have to wait long. Groaning, he sucks the stranger's cock into his mouth. Finally something he can do, instead of just take and hope that it feels good for whoever's using him.

"So good," the man praises him, encouragingly stroking his cheek. He's slow, almost careful as he pushes his cock steadily in, until the tip brushes the back of his mouth. He must have noticed the plugs by now - they're inconspicuous, not invisible - but he keeps on talking. "Can't get enough, huh? You've been neglected."

The other man just scoffs and fucks Shinjirou harder. Now that there's less screaming coming from Shinjirou, less writhing, the small audience begins to thin. It doesn't help that the party is in full swing. The entertainment will be there all night, waiting for them, but the food won't. A few men leave parting presents: come, messy splatters left all over Shinjirou's back and ass, as carelessly as if they had been signing a guest book.

When the man finally comes into Shinjirou's ass, there's nobody to take his place. Grinning to himself, he slides the plug back into place, giving it a slap before he leaves.

If he could hear the man, Shinjirou would be inclined to agree with him. Sucking cock, getting fucked by men who don't care about his well-being -- from his very first days out on the streets to the day he got dragged away to be sold, that had been near-daily bread. Jade is amused by more things than just a simple fuck every other night. And despite the novelty of having so many men use him, he's still more used to this than going shopping.

His jaw loosens when the man prods the back of his throat, offering him to push deeper. He's not had a single guy who didn't choose to go deeper and this one isn't an exception either ... though the other guy certainly makes it difficult not to get a handful of cock thrust into his throat, getting thrown forward with the sheer force he's added recently.

Soon, there's come staining his lips and warming him both inside and out. The thick lines overlap on his back, some of it already drying on his skin. All the fills he's gotten in his ass aren't going anywhere, on the other hand. The plug closes him up nicely and now that he finally has some time to himself, he uses it to hump the bench and squeeze around the plug. Many men have come into and onto him -- he hasn't come at all yet, arousal spiking and then dropping hard with the constant switch between intense pain and lust.

He doesn't even care if he's putting up a good show without knowing, if someone's watching him or if he's just trying to get off in the middle of a room full of people. He can't see them, he can't hear them. Some of them he's felt and that could happen again any time now, but that's what he's here for. It's okay. Probably even his cock is going to come away bruised -- rubbing up against the bench hurts and it feels oddly swollen -- he's going to look like a complete mess, if he isn't already.

For almost ten minutes, he's left alone. Then someone grabs his blindfold and yanks it up and off his eyes.

His seller looks down at him, leering where he would usually have a scowl firmly in place. "I thought you looked familiar," he grunts, folding his arms. "Didn't think I'd see you here though. What, you finally got whipped into shape?"

The feeling of surprise is immediately replaced by burning hatred for the man that stands before him. His bad habits return in a heartbeat and the man's grin alone warrants a heartfelt spit of come across the front of his suit pants. Shinjirou glares up at him, waiting for the violent reaction that's sure to follow in retaliation for that kind of behavior. So what.

He shakes his head, trying to get the plugs out of his ears, and gives up right away. Fine, he can't hear, but he can make noise. And he chooses to hiss. "Fuck. Off."

The leer vanishes immediately. Those suit pants had been expensive. He strikes Shinjirou across the face with a powerful backhand, teeth bared in a vicious snarl. Shinjirou's no longer merchandise; he doesn't have to worry about keeping him in a good condition. It's time to pay back all the trouble he had caused - anything he does will be condoned, as long as he doesn't cause any permanent damage.

A shame, but there's still plenty of ways to have fun.

First, though, he snatches the plugs out and lets them roll carelessly onto the floor, coming to a stop under the bench. The seller dusts his hands off. "There. Better."

As if his jaw hadn't stung already from one of the guys slamming it into the bench. Now his entire face is on fire and even his anger isn't strong enough to keep him from making a pained noise. Taking a few shaky breaths as the asshole lets him hear again, he notices the commotion has caught a few people's interest. Some of them don't look too happy, though.

He looks up, away from the disappointed, annoyed faces -- and those that are grinning. "I said: Fuck off." That's the only way. Shinjirou can't run off, so the man he resents nearly as much as he resents himself will have to do it. "Not gonna suck your dirty dwarf cock."

There are chuckles here and there, but they're quickly cut off as the seller slaps Shinjirou again, on his other cheek this time. He's out for blood, and Shinjirou is making it easy to justify further violence.

His hands shoot out, wrapping around Shinjirou's neck and giving it a firm squeeze.

"That's not what you were saying last time," he snarls, face flushed with anger. His grip tightens. Then, abruptly, he's trying to yank Shinjirou away from the bench and slam him onto the floor, right at his feet.

His bottom lip splits open and swollen as it already was, a thick drop of blood blossoms on the open wound, staining his chin. He spits, again, though this time he misses the guy's pants. Just barely. Shinjirou wants to try again, aim right and hit -- but he jerks in the man's sudden grip, gurgling as he tries to breathe. This isn't some show of domination, the guy's out for revenge.

Shinjirou's wheezing by the time the ground's coming closer. The spreader bar gets caught on the bench and for a second he hopes in vain that means he won't crash into the floor, but no. His shoulder slams into the cold surface, the bench following along to land on his chest. For a moment, his vision is gone, replaced by bright dancing dots. He should stop trying to fight the man. It's useless.

"I know," he says and his throat hurts so much he never wants to speak again, "I know you like the pretty ones better. Just go, asshole."

His eyes glitter at the sight of blood, an ugly smile staining his lips as Shinjirou crumples onto the floor. If he's lucky, the bench would have bruised Shinjirou's ribs.

But the sense of defeat that hangs over Shinjirou pleases him more than any physical harm. He lets go of his neck for the moment, kicking the bench away; he can't exactly continue yanking Shinjirou around when he's pinned down like that.

"Shut up and put your mouth to better use." As far as he's concerned, Shinjirou would have sold easier without his tongue. But right now, he's hoping his order will be refused.

"Like biting your dick off?" Shinjirou doubts he'd have the courage to do that, but it's the only threat he can make, what with being unable to move freely. If he's incredibly lucky, the man will believe he's just that much of a beast. If not -- Shinjirou braces himself for another attack. Now that he can see and hear again, it's at least possible to prepare himself mentally for the impact.

On the other hand, he'd really rather not get hit again. His chest feels like someone just stabbed him and it's hard to breathe, and the rest of his body isn't in a much better state. "Just go and fuck one of the princesses."

He scoffs; Shinjirou had plenty of opportunities to carry out that threat already, and each time, he had just obediently opened his mouth and let him go as deep as he wanted.

But he can't back down now, even if he wants to. Which he doesn't.

"Someone brought a little virgin. Maybe I'll go fuck her later, I think she's a little busy right now." He grabs at Shinjirou again, by the hair this time, and aims a kick at his ribs. "And I can't leave unfinished business hanging here."

His stomach turns and it's not only the blinding pain that's to blame for it. Coughing, blood sprays onto the floor in thick lines. "Don't hurt her, sicko." Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see the dark purple and red spots on his body. He's bruised all over and if the cutting rattle of his breathing is any indication, something will have to be fixed later.

That's okay. It's just him, he can deal with that. Jade will probably be disappointed, maybe even angry, but that's also something he can live with. But just the thought of a girl without any sort of experience being put into this guy's hands makes him want to beat someone up. Preferably said guy.

"Don't you have someone to kidnap or something?"

Idly, he probes at Shinjirou's jaw with the tip of his shoe. He's so easy to jerk around, it's almost laughable.

"I'll do worse to her if she doesn't serve properly." He yawns, ignoring that last jab. Shinjirou isn't the first slave to say that, and he won't be the last either. "Might be I won't need to pay her a visit at all if you do your job. You got all that blood out yet?"

This isn't a man he should trust. Still, shouldn't he at least try? Staring up, he lets his mouth fill with blood before spitting it all out. "... yes." If he wants to spare the girl having to deal with this guy, then there's no other choice for him.

"Here." Jaw dropping, he opens his mouth wide. He holds the man's gaze, silently praying the defeat in his eyes isn't as easy to read as he fears it is. This, this is his weakness. He can't have others get hurt just because he can't control himself. And what's so bad about sucking some lunatic off when he's had a dog mount him. This is tame in comparison, just more aggravating.

He doesn't even smile at his victory; Shinjirou's earlier defiance had thoroughly ruined his good mood. It's only now that his rage is beginning to simmer down. He's been aroused earlier, and although some of that had faded, his cock is still mostly hard when it slaps against Shinjirou's reddened cheek.

"I'm going to come on your face," he grunts, forcing his cock into Shinjirou's mouth and down his throat with one hand. He's won completely. There's nothing to be afraid of; there had never been anything to be afraid of. "Then I want to see you offering to suck off anyone who's watching. Your mouth's the only thing good about you, we might as well put it to use."

Shinjirou still wants to call him names, would love to kick the man, or at least turn his head away. Instead he's on the floor, enthusiastically sucking his dick. That his gag reflex has never been all that strong is enormously useful. The man glides in deep, throat showing an obvious bulge. Normally he loves this, normally he tries to draw it out. Now his eyes narrow and he bobs his head up and down fast. Just make the guy come and lose interest, preferably for the rest of the night, in any and all sex.

The small crowd around them is growing, it seems, with each wet smack and pop. There are too many with their hands in their pants, too many looking forward to having him crawl towards them like a limbless slug, asking them to use his mouth for their pleasure. This isn't how he imagined the night to go and he's pretty sure Jade didn't plan any of this either. Maybe he's wrong, but if he is, he doesn't want to know.

His teeth are safely tucked away under his lips, his tongue pressed up into the base of the man's cock. He does his best to give him a good time, let him thrust into his throat when he wants to, just get it over with his quick, but satisfy the madman.

The whore has a nice tongue and an even nicer technique, all sweet and yielding. But he's had his cock sucked enough times to see through his little scheme. Pleasure's not the most important thing right now (even if it's still high up); he wants Shinjirou entirely humiliated, entirely defeated.

Thrusting his cock deep inside, his hand shoots out to pinch Shinjirou's nose shut. No air for him, not until he's given in. "Do it properly, slave. Slower."

His throat already burns from the intrusion, but desperately trying to suck air into his lungs, it closes up so tightly the pressure and sting makes his eyes water. He thrashes, like a caught animal trying to free itself, and nearly sends himself crashing onto the floor again. Breathe, all he wants is to breathe.

The laughter sounds like shrill bells in his ears. His fight for survival is entertaining the audience. Sick, they're all sick -- and with half a gurgle, half a whine, he surrenders. Sitting perfectly still, despite his body's desperate need for air, hot tears staining his cheeks, he looks up. The man looks sort of blurry and he can't decide if it's because he's crying or because he's about to faint.

The latter almost seems inviting.

"You're finally learning." He continues blocking Shinjirou's airway for a second longer, until his eyes glaze over and his face begins to darken from lack of oxygen. Only then does he let go, thrusting his cock deeper at the same time. It's very sweet, forcing Shinjirou to submit. If only he could enjoy it longer, but there's only so long the crowd will wait.

Fuck them. He's earned this. He strokes Shinjirou's cheek with mocking gentleness, brushing the hot tears away. "Get to work, before I make you again."

Learning, from this asshole? Definitely not. But his body is screaming for air and the only way to get it is to give in. He'd even say thank you, sweetly, if not for the cock shoving deeper into his throat. Sharp, cool air fills his lungs and it's like Christmas coming early. Shinjirou closes his eyes, tip of his tongue hesitantly pressing up into the hot length. He'll bear this.

"Yes, Sir," he mumbles around the man's shaft when he gets the chance to, before his throat fills up with cock once more.

From time to time, he shivers, and too often, he can hear himself weep. He doesn't want niceties from this man, fake or honest. It's embarrassing enough that he's forced to slowly lap at the man's cock. Pulling back, gently nipping, coiling his tongue around it. Swallowing it down in its entirety again. He's thorough, he just wishes he'd be allowed to be thorough and quick.

Better. He grunts, letting Shinjirou work without interruption. He's as good as he remembers, and while the scowl on his face never entirely disappears, it softens a little. His actions don't. When he's about had enough, he grabs Shinjirou by the hair and slams forward, driving deep into his throat. He's as rough as possible when he fucks the wet, tight channel - Shinjirou's going to remember him, going to feel stabs of pain every time he opens his mouth.

The thought is almost enough to send him over the edge. Grunting again, he fucks into him a few more times before pulling out, already stroking his cock as he does. The first pulse of come makes his cock twitch violently; sticky whiteness splatters onto Shinjirou's cheek, quickly joined by more - onto his nose, his eyes, his still-open mouth.

Sneering, the man tucks himself away, breathing hard. "Hurry the fuck up and go serve."

He's had many guys abuse his throat this way before, but no amount of experience could have prepared him for the moment when he's not letting them do it against his own free will. Without the guy yanking his head up, he'd curl in on himself until the pain subsides, but he can't do that. Hot come hits him across the face and he just barely reacts fast enough, shutting his eyes. When he blinks them open again, his lashes are glued together. His self-hatred doesn't leave a lot of room to hate anyone else, but this man has earned his second place. Yet Shinjirou bows his head demurely.

At least he doesn't have a long way to crawl towards the first man that drops his pants and takes his dick out. It's still difficult enough, even if it's only a few steps. The man waits until Shinjirou has made it over. They're having fun with this, none of them interested in making it easier for him.

Taking a shallow breath, he kisses the head of the man's cock. "May I, Sir?" His voice is so broken, what he says sounds more like a creak. As long as it keeps the craziest of the crazy here, away from the girl, he can be sweet. He can pepper all of their cocks with kisses and suck them into his aching throat. He can do it and he'll let all of them cover his face with their come, if they want to. With three guys suddenly standing beside him, all of them stroking their cocks and aiming it at him, that's a fair guess.

"Can't hear you, pretty," one of the men drawls, pre-come already beading at the tip of his cock. "You'll have to speak up."

The waiting man scowls. "Fuck off." When he looks back down at Shinjirou, the tight lines of his mouth twist into a grin. "You. Yeah, you can start. Go slow."

Only he has no intention of going slow. As soon as Shinjirou takes him into his throat for the first time, he's thrusting away, trying for a visible bulge. A low groan shivers out from one of the men; it quickly becomes apparent which, as he pulls at his cock one last time and sends come spurting onto the top of Shinjirou's head and dripping down his hair. "Christening the whore," he says, with a short laugh.

A type of man he knows well, but now that he can't scratch their backs and bite into their shoulders or leave angry lines on their thighs, he likes them considerably less. He tries to swallow the man's pre-come, his only chance to get his throat slick and wet and ease the pain at least somewhat. It doesn't help much. Eyes stinging, he shuts them again and curses himself for the sob he fails to hold back when thick, hot come covers his hair and drips onto his ears and neck.

If he could close his legs, that would be nice -- despite his pain, perhaps because of it, his body reacts in a way that only urges the men on. He's hard, involuntarily squeezing the plug every other thrust. Ignoring the heat and stiffness of his muscles, he does his best to entertain the man, with soft nips and hungry sucks. Mostly he can't do anything, though. The man's moving too fast and pushing in too deep. He's having trouble breathing, come covering his nose and too many sensations to process. Still, Shinjirou does his best to please.

There's always someone to take the place of those that have had their fun already and his head soon feels wet from all the guys following the first idiot's hysterical idea, joining in his dumb joke. But his cock twitches when they call him names and he can't hide that.