Seed & Feed
A Fictional Story by subliminalmassage.
Marcus’s abs rippled in the mirror, his smooth brown skin glistening with sweat in the evening light. Beneath us both, my cuck quivered and moaned, starved for attention but too meek to demand it. I thought about how casually Marcus could fling him across the room, and came hard on his thick, powerful cock.
“Do you wanna cum tonight, Tiny?” I growled at the bitch splayed beneath me as the orgasm washed through me. I had one hand on Tiny’s balls, holding on to him, and to the spinning world. It wasn’t till I heard the shrillness of my cuck’s voice that I realized how hard I’d been gripping.
“Please.. g-goddess. I nee-”
“Can Marcus cum inside me?” I cut him off
Silence.
“Do you want to cum tonight?” I asked again. It was October. He’d been locked all month. His longest stint yet.
“Yes. Bu-”
“Do you want Marcus to cum in my pussy?” I could feel his weakness, how close he was to surrender. “Yes? Or No Nut November?”
The threat broke him like a heel on kindling.
“Please… please I need i-”
“Beg him, not me. Beg him to come in my pussy.”
I could feel Marcus’s huge nuts slapping against my clit as Tiny choked on his pride.
“Please.. Sir, will you cum inside my… I mean, inside Princess Angela”
“Miss a drop, and I’ll fuck you up. Hear me, bitch?” A drop of clear, sparkling precum dripped from Tiny’s cage in response.
“Yes D-Daddy.”
What Tiny didn’t know was that this was Marcus’s fetish. Mine too. Seed and feed, he called it, and it had practically been a condition of making me His. The first time I’d asked, Tiny had thrown a tantrum.
“I’m not a sissy! I just like hearing about you with big guys!”
A month of chastity later, his position had evolved. “Don’t ask, don’t tell” was, for almost a year, our shared fiction. Not that it was hard to figure out, when Marcus dropped me off, and I immediately pushed my boy to his knees and pulled my panties aside. When I got out my phone to film him for Daddy. When I pulled his face to mine for a kiss, tasting him for a moment, before proclaiming, ‘You’re not done yet. Get every drop.’ It seemed as long as he could pretend I always used condoms, that he couldn’t taste it, that he didn’t love it, he could keep that little shred of pride.
It wasn’t enough. Not for Marcus. And not for me. I’d give him options, every step of the way, but tonight we were letting truth up from her well.
Marcus’s orgasm was rising, his thrusts getting deeper, hungrier, more forceful. I bucked my hips, wondering if I’d climax again before him. Instead, panting and shaking, we both came at once. Marcus roared in pleasure and pushed so deep that I could feel his thick, powerful blasts of seed splatter against my cervix. I squeezed Tiny’s balls in my hand.
“Open your mouth. Wide.” A thick wad of cum glooped out of my pussy as Marcus withdrew. “Don’t swallow a drop. Not till I say. Tap twice if you understand not to speak with your mouth full.”
Two taps against my thigh.
I’d been training my pelvic floor for this, and it seemed to have paid off. I kept the muscles flexed as I squatted onto Tiny’s face.
My pussy was flooded. Marcus always came a lot, but tonight was exceptional. I felt full and fertile. I felt bred. I wanted more.
“Breathe through your nose slowly,” I ordered, slipping into Domme mode after giving myself to my Bull. “If it feels like your mouth’s too full, tap once.” As I spoke these words, I relaxed my pussy just enough to let a steady drip of seed flow into Tiny’s mouth. I pulled the key from my bracelet and undid his chastity belt. “Don’t swallow.” I reminded him, “Not till I say. No matter how badly you want to.” Tiny’s leg quivered in agreement as I wrapped my hand round his rock hard, throbbing not-quite-four-inches. I had to stop myself laughing. After hours of Marcus’s huge cock stretching me, owning the deep parts of me, Tiny’s dick looked… well… tiny. It reminded me of a toy you’d get in a Christmas Cracker.
A single tap. I tightened my muscles and shifted my weight till the flow stopped, then pulled myself back into the moment. If I laughed out loud, the poor kid would probably cum on the spot. Instead, I ever so slowly began edging him, hypersensitive to signs he was close. Timing was everything.
“I’m going to edge you for a minute or two, OK?. When the time’s nearly up, I’ll give a little countdown. When I hit zero, that’s when you swallow. After that, you can fuck me.” His dick throbbed so hard that for a moment I thought he’d cum. “Or at least put your dick inside me. If you’ve not cum already, I mean. You won’t cum, right? You’ve waited nearly a month, you can wait one more minute. It’s not like you love the taste of Daddy’s cum that much.”
twitch, twitch*
I wondered then if he’d worked it out yet. That this was my secret rule: he ate me out a lot, but unless this taste was filling his mouth, I left him locked and frustrated. Sometimes, if I kissed him after a blow job, he began leaking.
Conditioning, they call it.
“You’re making a choice tonight, baby. About our future. Not just how you want to cum this time, but the next time too and the time after. Pussy, or sperm? Stag, or cuck? Straight, or sissy?” He tensed slightly, then relaxed, surrendering. I felt my inner Domme grin wickedly. Poor boy. He could hardly disagree through a mouthful of cum.
Tiny’s dick throbbed in my hand. I was keenly aware that a half dozen quick strokes would finish him. “If you hold it in, I’ll start opening my legs for you again. Not just tonight. We might need a bullet vibe on my clit to get me there, but that’s OK. You’ll cum from fucking, like a real man. But if you climax to the sweet, hot taste of Marcus’s load, that’s how I’ll get you off from now on. No pussy for sissies. Just cum.” I squeezed his dick tight and started counting down.
“10…9… 8…”
His whole body seemed to vibrate with tension.
“…3…2…1. Swallow.” I combined the order with a single, quick stroke, enough to make him expect more. And he got more, but not like that. I squeezed my pelvic floor as hard as I could and felt the rest of Marcus’s load squirt out of me. “Keep swallowing. Big gulps. Drink every drop.” I leaned forward till my lips were just inches from Tiny’s dick. Then softly, lightly, cruelly blew.
It was enough. I saw his balls retract, and I immediately grabbed his dick. He’d have cum regardless, and we both knew it. From beneath me I could hear moans of gratitude, muffled by the last few gulps of cum.
I rubbed his dick in long, firm, generous strokes. I didn’t want to ruin him; I just wanted him to know he came to this. I didn’t force it. Now he was over the edge; I wanted to give him every lick of pleasure. I thought about sucking him for a moment, before realizing some things aren’t meant for sissies. I’d never been so fixated on a dick so small before. I poured all my energy into making this the best orgasm of his life.
As I squeezed the last of Marcus’s load into my hubby’s mouth, I whispered. “Here it comes, sweetie. It feels good, doesn’t it, being Mommy’s sissy cumslut?” And, with a few more quick strokes, pushed him over the edge. Weak, thin droplets in comparison to my Bull’s, and far less, despite the month of buildup. It was getting harder each day to see my husband as a man. Still, I licked my finger and teased the tiny soft spot behind his balls. I wanted him to love this moment. I wanted him to crave more.
I looked over at Marcus. His dick was like rock. I beckoned him over and gripped the shaft, bringing him close to my lips. “You own me. He cleans me. Just like you wanted, Daddy.”
As I sucked Daddy’s huge cock and ground my still slippery pussy into Tiny’s mouth, I wondered how our lives would be different tomorrow.
*****
The Morning After
Angela woke to the smell of coffee and the soft clink of ceramic. She stretched beneath the sheets, her body still humming with the pleasant ache of last night. The bedroom was empty, but sounds drifted from the kitchen—cabinet doors, the rustle of a paper bag.
She smiled.
Tiny was making breakfast. Of course he was.
She lay there for a moment, replaying the previous night in vivid detail. Marcus’s thick cock stretching her open. Tiny’s desperate tongue working her clit while Marcus pounded her from behind. The hot flood of Marcus’s cum dripping from her pussy into Tiny’s waiting mouth. The way Tiny’s little dick had twitched and spurted the moment she’d blown on it—pathetic, really. Four inches of ruined masculinity.
And then the words she’d whispered into his ear while he swallowed: Mommy’s sissy cumslut.
She’d meant every syllable.
—
Angela padded barefoot into the kitchen, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt that barely covered the curve of her ass. Tiny stood at the counter in his boxer briefs, his chastity cage visible through the thin cotton. He’d already set the table—fresh fruit, scrambled eggs, toast, two mugs of steaming coffee. He turned when he heard her, and the expression on his face was something she’d never quite seen before.
Not shame. Not regret.
Devotion.
“Good morning,” he said softly. His eyes dropped to the floor.
“Good morning, baby.” Angela crossed the kitchen and cupped his jaw, tilting his face up. She kissed him—slow, deep, her tongue sliding past his lips. She tasted coffee and something else. A faint, salty residue he hadn’t quite brushed away. She pulled back and licked her own lips. “You missed a spot when you brushed your teeth.”
Tiny flushed crimson. “I—I wanted to… I wanted to keep it. A little.”
Angela’s pussy clenched. Oh, this is happening faster than I expected.
She let the silence hang, watching him squirm. Then she stroked his hair, gentle and slow. “That’s not your decision to make anymore. You know that, right?”
He swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes… Mommy.”
The word landed in her chest like a warm stone. She smiled and patted his cheek twice—lightly, almost patronizingly. “Good boy. Now, where’s Marcus?”
Tiny’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “He left early. Said he’d be back around noon. He… texted me.”
Angela raised an eyebrow. “He texted you?”
Tiny picked up his phone from the counter and handed it to her. She read the message:
“Make sure she’s ready for me again. And keep that cage on. I want to see it when I walk in.”
Angela let out a low laugh. Marcus was already taking ownership of the dynamic—reaching past her, directly to Tiny and establishing the hierarchy. She felt a slick heat between her thighs.
“He’s testing you,” she said, handing the phone back. “Seeing if you’ll obey him or come crying to me.”
“What should I do?”
“You should do exactly what he said.” She sat down at the table and crossed her legs, letting the t-shirt ride up. “But first, come here.”
Tiny approached, standing awkwardly beside her chair. She reached out and ran her fingernail over the outline of his cage through his underwear. His breath hitched.
“Take these off.”
He hesitated, then pushed the boxer briefs down. His cock strained against the clear plastic cage, the metal ring snug around his balls. It looked almost swollen—bluish, desperate. She cupped his balls in her palm, weighing them. He groaned.
“These are full,” she murmured. “Aren’t they?”
“Angela—”
“Mommy.”
“…Mommy. Please. It’s been so long.”
She squeezed—not hard, but firmly enough to make him gasp. “It’s been thirty-one days. And last night you came like a good little slut while swallowing another man’s load from my pussy. Do you remember what I said?”
“That I’m… a cumslut now.”
“And?”
“And I’m… denied. Pussy.”
“That’s right.” She released his balls and leaned back in her chair, spreading her thighs. The shirt rode up completely, exposing her bare, glistening cunt. She hadn’t showered yet—she could still smell Marcus on her, the musky remnants of their fucking mixed with her own arousal. “Get on your knees.”
Tiny dropped immediately.
She hooked one leg over the arm of the chair, opening herself fully. “Clean me. Not like last night—this time, slow. Worshipful. I want you to taste what Marcus left inside me and understand that this—” she slid two fingers through her slick folds and held them up, the strings of his seed visible between them “—belongs to him now. Not you.”
Tiny leaned in, his breath hot against her pussy. He pressed his lips to her inner thigh first, kissing a slow trail toward her center. When his tongue finally made contact—flat, broad, licking upward from her entrance to her clit—Angela let out a shuddering breath and tangled her fingers in his hair.
“That’s it,” she whispered. “Taste him. Taste us.”
He worked slowly, obediently, his tongue delving inside her, lapping at the mixture of fluids. She watched his face—eyes closed, lips glistening, the muscles of his jaw working as he swallowed. His caged cock dripped precum onto the tile floor in a steady, pathetic rhythm.
She let him go for a long time. Long enough that her second orgasm built slowly, like a tide coming in. She ground against his mouth, pulling his face tighter, smearing herself across his chin and nose.
“Stick your tongue out,” she breathed.
He obeyed. She rode it—short, sharp thrusts, using his face like a toy. When she came, she clamped her thighs around his head and bucked, a strangled cry escaping her lips. His hands gripped her hips, steadying her, and she could feel him moaning against her cunt—the vibration of a man who had found his purpose.
—
When she finally released him, his face was soaked. She was breathing hard, her legs trembling. She looked down at him—this man on his knees, face shining with her juices and Marcus’s remnants, his locked cock weeping onto the floor—and felt a surge of affection so intense it surprised her.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” she said. “Do you know that?”
He looked up at her, eyes wet. “I just want to be good for you.”
“You are. You are good for me.” She stroked his cheek with her thumb. “Now go shower. Wash your face. When Marcus gets here at noon, I want you in the living room—kneeling, cage visible, hands behind your back. Don’t speak unless spoken to. Can you do that?”
“Yes, Mommy.”
“Good.” She paused. “And Tiny?”
He looked back from the doorway.
“I think we’re going to keep you locked through November. Maybe longer. I haven’t decided yet.”
His face cycled through something complicated—loss, fear, and beneath it all, a dark and unmistakable arousal. His caged dick twitched against the plastic.
“Thank you, Mommy,” he whispered.
And he meant it.
—
At 11:47, Angela stood in front of the bedroom mirror, adjusting the black lace bra she’d chosen—crotchless panties, garter belt, thigh-high stockings. Marcus’s preferences. She’d dressed for him, not for Tiny. Tiny didn’t get to see her dressed up anymore. He got to see her undressed—used, dripping, splayed open. That was his version of her now.
From the living room, she heard the front door open. Heavy footsteps. Marcus’s voice, low and commanding:
“On your knees. Good. Eyes down.”
She listened to the silence—the particular silence of a man being regarded by a superior.
“Angela tells me you swallowed every drop last night. That true?”
“Yes, sir.” Tiny’s voice, small and thin.
“You kept a little in your mouth this morning, didn’t you? I saw the toothbrush in the bathroom. You didn’t scrub hard enough.”
A pause.
“I… I wanted to keep it.”
Marcus laughed—a deep, warm sound that made Angela’s nipples harden against the lace. “That’s not your call, little man. My cum isn’t yours to keep. It’s hers to give. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now stay there. Don’t move.”
Angela appeared in the doorway. Marcus stood in the center of their living room—six-foot-two, dark-skinned, wearing a fitted gray T-shirt that showed every cut of his torso and jeans that hung low on his hips. He looked at her, and his eyes traveled slowly from her face to her feet and back up.
“Damn,” he said.
She smiled and walked toward him, her heels clicking on the hardwood. Tiny knelt by the couch, hands behind his back, eyes fixed on the floor. She could see the tension in his shoulders—the effort of not looking.
Marcus pulled her in by the waist and kissed her, hard and deep, his big hand gripping her ass through the lace. She melted into him, her body already responding, already opening. He broke the kiss and looked down at Tiny.
“Watch,” Marcus said. Not to Angela. To Tiny.
Tiny’s eyes lifted. Marcus cupped Angela’s breast through the lace, thumbing her nipple, and she let out a soft moan—partly for the sensation, partly because she knew what it did to Tiny to hear her respond to another man’s touch.
“On the couch,” Marcus said to her. Then, to Tiny: “Move.”
Tiny scrambled aside, kneeling on the floor beside the couch as Angela lay back, spreading her legs. Marcus knelt between her thighs and hooked his fingers into the crotchless panties, spreading her open. He ran two thick fingers through her slickness—she’d been wet since the kitchen—and brought them to his lips, tasting her.
“Still got some of me in here from last night,” he murmured. “Your boy didn’t get it all.”
“He tried,” Angela said, running her fingers through Marcus’s close-cropped hair. “He’s still learning.”
Marcus grinned. “We’ll fix that.” He looked at Tiny. “Come here. Closer. I want you to see this.”
Tiny shuffled forward on his knees until he was beside Marcus, close enough to see everything. Marcus unzipped his jeans and freed his cock—thick, dark, half-hard and growing. He stroked it slowly, the head glistening with precum, and Angela watched Tiny’s eyes lock onto it with an intensity that made her breath catch.
“You want this?” Marcus asked. Not to Angela.
Tiny’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “…Yes.”
“Ask for it.”
Tiny looked at Angela. She held his gaze and said nothing. This was Marcus’s moment. Marcus’s game now.
“Please,” Tiny said, his voice cracking. “Please, sir. Let me… let me watch you fuck her.”
Marcus tilted his head. “That’s not what I asked.” He wrapped his hand around his shaft and held it out, inches from Tiny’s face. “I said, do you want this?”
The room went silent except for the ticking of the clock on the wall.
Angela watched the war play out across Tiny’s face—the last vestiges of his straightness, his dignity, his idea of himself as a man—crumbling in real time. His lips trembled. His caged cock leaked onto the floor.
“Yes,” he whispered. “I want it.”
Marcus smiled. “Open your mouth.”
Angela’s heart slammed against her ribs.
Tiny opened his mouth—slowly, reluctantly, then wider—and Marcus placed the head of his cock on Tiny’s lower lip. Just rested it there. The weight of it. The heat. Tiny’s eyes fluttered.
“Lick it,” Marcus said.
Tiny’s tongue emerged—tentative, trembling—and licked the precum from the tip of Marcus’s cock. Marcus inhaled sharply, his abs tightening.
“Again.”
Tiny licked again, longer this time, tasting the shaft. Angela reached down and touched herself, fingers sliding through her wetness, watching her husband of eight years lick another man’s cock for the first time.
“Good,” Marcus said. He pulled back and turned to Angela. “Later. He’s not ready for more yet.” He looked down at Tiny. “Back to your spot. Eyes on me. You’re going to watch what a real cock does to your wife.”
Tiny retreated, his lips still wet, his face flushed with a shame so deep it had circled back around to arousal. He knelt. He watched.
Marcus positioned himself and pushed inside Angela in one long, deep stroke. She cried out, her back arching, her nails digging into his shoulders. He was bigger than she’d felt last night—thicker, harder, like the sight of Tiny’s submission had turned him to steel.
He fucked her slow. Deliberate. Each thrust ground against her cervix, and she could feel every inch, every ridge, every pulse of his cock inside her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him deeper, moaning into his ear.
“Tell# The Morning After
Angela woke to the smell of coffee and the soft clatter of dishes downstairs. Sunlight cut through the bedroom blinds in pale stripes across the rumpled sheets. She stretched, her nude body still loose and warm from the night before, and smiled at the ceiling.
Tiny was already up. Making breakfast. Like a good little cuck.
She rolled onto her side and checked her phone. A text from Marcus, timestamped 6:14 AM.
“Last night was good. Tonight, better. I’m bringing a friend.”
Her pussy clenched. She thumbed back a single eggplant emoji and tossed the phone aside.
Downstairs, she found Tiny at the stove in his boxer briefs, spatula in hand, the steel chastity cage glinting beneath the fabric. He’d showered — his hair was still damp — and he moved with the careful, obedient energy of a man who knew his place had shifted overnight.
“Morning, Mommy,” he said without turning around. “Eggs and toast. Marcus’s preference, like you taught me.”
Angela leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, naked. “Look at me when you speak.”
He turned. His eyes dropped immediately to her bare feet, then traveled slowly up her thighs, her trimmed strip of auburn pubic hair, her full breasts. His caged dick twitched uselessly behind the metal.
“Good boy,” she murmured. She walked to him, took his jaw in her hand, and kissed him slow and deep, pushing her tongue past his lips. She tasted toothpaste and something else — a faint, salty ghost she knew well. “You still taste like him.”
Tiny flushed red from his collar to his ears.
She hopped onto the counter beside the stove, legs dangling, and let her knees fall open. “Come here.”
He stepped between her thighs. She reached down and cupped his caged cock, feeling the warmth of it straining against the steel, the frustration pulsing through the metal.
“How does it feel this morning?” she asked, squeezing gently.
“Full,” he whispered. “Aching.”
“Good.” She released him and patted his cheek. “Finish the eggs. Marcus is coming back tonight, and he’s bringing someone.”
Tiny’s spatula hand froze mid-flip. “Someone?”
“A friend.” Angela picked up his phone from the counter and scrolled through the chastity app she’d installed months ago, checking his stats — 31 days locked, 0 orgasms authorized, 4 denied. “Another bull. Bigger than Marcus, if you can believe it.”
Tiny swallowed hard. The eggs sizzled in the pan, forgotten.
“Focus,” Angela snapped. “Burn Marcus’s breakfast, and I’ll add another month.”
He scrambled to tend the food. Angela watched him, amused, her pussy already slick at the thought of tonight. She spread her legs wider on the counter and began idly stroking herself, two fingers sliding through her folds while Tiny plated eggs and arranged toast in a geometric pattern on the dish.
“Marcus texted me this morning,” she said, her voice casual, fingers circling her clit. “He said last night was the best pussy he’s ever had. Said your mouth on my clit while he fucked me made him cum harder than any woman ever has.”
Tiny set the plate on the counter beside her, his hands trembling slightly.
“He also said he wants you on your knees tonight. Not just for cleanup.” She pushed two fingers inside herself and let out a soft moan. “He wants your mouth on his cock while his friend fucks me. A warm-up. Think you can handle that?”
Tiny’s caged dick strained so hard against the metal that Angela could see the skin bulging between the bars. His jaw worked silently.
“That’s not a rhetorical question, sissy.”
“I—” His voice cracked. “Yes, Mommy. I can handle it.”
“Good.” She withdrew her fingers, glistening, and held them up to his lips. He sucked them clean without hesitation, eyes closed, and she felt a rush of wet heat between her thighs at his obedience. This was what she’d been building toward. Not just a cuck who watched. Not just a cleanup boy. A toy. Something she and Marcus could use together.
—
Marcus arrived at eight, and he was not alone.
The man behind him was taller — six-three, maybe six-four — with dark brown skin, a shaved head, and shoulders that filled the doorframe. He wore a fitted black T-shirt that looked painted on, and his jeans hung low on hips carved from granite. His name was Darnell, and when he smiled at Angela, it was the slow, confident smile of a man who had never been told no.
“Damn, girl,” Darnell said, his voice a deep bass rumble. “Marcus undersold you.”
Angela had spent two hours preparing. Hair in loose waves down her back. Makeup subtle but deliberate — smoky eyes, nude lips. A black lace teddy that clung to her curves and snapped at the crotch. Tiny had helped her get ready, zipping her into the lingerie, painting her toenails, kneeling at her feet while she explained what would happen tonight.
Now Tiny stood in the living room in a pair of silk shorts and nothing else, his cage visible through the thin fabric. He held a tray of drinks — whiskey for Marcus and Darnell, wine for Angela, nothing for himself.
Marcus took his drink and clapped Tiny on the shoulder. “How’s my little cumslut tonight? Hungry?”
Tiny’s eyes darted to the floor. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Because Darnell hasn’t cum in a week, and he’s got a load that’ll make last night look like a dribble.” Marcus grinned at Angela. “I told him about your arrangement. He’s into it.”
Darnell sipped his whiskey, his gaze roaming over Angela’s body with open hunger. “The cuck thing is new for me, but the sharing? I’m very familiar with that.” He unbuttoned his jeans and tugged the zipper down, and even though it was soft, the outline of his cock through his boxer briefs made Angela’s breath catch. It hung thick and heavy down his thigh, the head visible through the fabric, already straining.
“Tiny,” Angela said, her voice steady despite the heat blooming in her chest. “Drinks on the table. Then come kneel in front of Darnell.”
Tiny set the tray down with a soft clink. He crossed the room and sank to his knees in front of the bigger man, hands on his thighs, eyes lowered. Darnell looked down at him with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.
“So you’re the one who eats the leftovers,” Darnell said.
“Yes, sir,” Tiny whispered.
Darnell pulled his cock free, and Angela heard herself gasp softly. It was enormous — easily nine inches and thick as her wrist, the head a dark, glistening plum, a thick vein running along the underside. Even Marcus glanced at it with a raised eyebrow.
“Open,” Darnell said.
Tiny opened his mouth.
Darnell placed the head of his cock on Tiny’s lower lip and let it rest there, heavy and warm. “Marcus says you’ve been training. Let’s see what you can do.”
He pushed forward slowly, feeding inch after inch into Tiny’s mouth. Angela watched, transfixed, her pussy throbbing against the lace of her teddy. Tiny’s jaw stretched wide, his throat working, and a muffled sound escaped him as Darnell hit the back of his mouth and kept going.
“Breathe through your nose,” Marcus said, settling onto the couch beside Angela. He pulled her close and kissed her neck, his hand sliding down to cup her breast through the lace. “Watch him. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Angela breathed, her eyes locked on Tiny’s stretched lips, the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, the way his hands gripped his own thighs. “God, yes.”
Darnell began to fuck Tiny’s mouth with slow, deliberate strokes, each thrust pushing deeper. Tiny’s throat bulged on the downstroke, and Darnell groaned — a deep, resonant sound that filled the room.
“Shit, he’s tight,” Darnell said, gripping the back of Tiny’s head with one massive hand. “Most women can’t take it this deep.”
Angela reached over and unsnapped the crotch of her teddy, exposing herself. Marcus’s fingers found her slit immediately, two of them sliding inside with practiced ease. She was drenched — she’d been wet since the text that morning, and watching Tiny service this stranger’s cock was sending her somewhere she hadn’t been before.
“Get him on the bed,” she said.
—
They moved to the bedroom in a procession — Marcus and Darnell stripping off their clothes, Angela peeling the teddy down her body and tossing it aside, Tiny trailing behind, mouth wet and swollen, eyes glazed.
Angela knelt on her hands at the center of the bed, facing the headboard mirror. She’d installed it years ago, and it had become the centerpiece of their play. She watched her own reflection — flushed skin, hard nipples, the wet shine of arousal on her inner thighs.
“Tiny,” she said. “Under me. On your back.”
He climbed onto the bed and slid beneath her, his face directly under her pussy. She lowered herself onto his mouth and felt his tongue immediately find her clit, hot and eager. His caged cock pressed against her lower back, the steel cold against her skin.
Marcus climbed behind her, and she heard him spit into his hand. Then the broad head of his cock pushed against her entrance, and she moaned as he filled her in one long stroke, his hips pressing flush against her ass. She could feel Tiny’s tongue working her clit while Marcus’s cock slid in and out above it, the dual sensation making her eyes roll back.
“Fuck, he’s licking my balls too,” Marcus grunted. “Little freak’s getting into it.”
Darnell stood at the edge of the bed, stroking his massive cock, watching. “Where do I fit in?”
Angela lifted her head and met his eyes in the mirror. “My mouth. Come around to the other side.”
Darnell walked around the bed and knelt in front of her, his cock jutting out at mouth level. She opened wide and took him in, tasting the salt of his precum, feeling the impossible thickness stretch her lips. He groaned and pushed forward, and she felt him slide into her throat, her gag reflex suppressed by months of practice with Marcus.
Three bodies. Three holes. And Tiny beneath her, tongue working, caged cock twitching, swallowing the slick mess of her arousal and Marcus’s precum as it dripped from where they joined.
The rhythm built. Marcus fucked her harder, his hands gripping her hips, his cock slamming into her with wet, slapping sounds that echoed off the walls. Darnell held her head and fucked her throat with long, measured strokes. And Angela came — once, twice — her body shuddering between them, her moans muffled by Darnell’s cock, her pussy clenching around Marcus until he swore and pulled out.
“On his face,” Angela gasped, pulling off Darnell. “Cum on his face. All of it.”
Marcus straddled Tiny’s chest and stroked himself twice, three times, then erupted — thick ropes of cum splashing across Tiny’s chin, his lips, his closed eyes. Tiny flinched but kept his mouth open, tongue extended, and Angela watched the white strands coat him.
“Now you,” she said to Darnell. “Inside me. I want it inside.”
Darnell took Marcus’s place behind her, and the first push of his cock made her cry out. He was bigger — so much bigger — and her pussy stretched around him with a burn that teetered between pain and pleasure. He took his time, feeding inch after inch into her, until she could feel him in her stomach, his balls pressed against her clit where Tiny’s tongue still worked.
“Jesus Christ,” she whimpered. “Tiny, don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop.”
Tiny licked faster, his tongue dragging across her clit and Darnell’s shaft simultaneously, and Angela felt a third orgasm building — deeper, darker, something that would break her open.
Darnell fucked her with long, powerful strokes, each one driving her forward, each one pulling a sound from her throat she didn’t recognize. She looked in the mirror and saw herself — impaled between two men, her cuck beneath her covered in cum, her body shaking — and the orgasm hit her like a wave, her pussy clamping down on Darnell’s cock so hard he barked out a curse.
“I’m gonna cum,” he growled, his hips stuttering. “Where—”
“Inside,” Angela hissed. “Fill me. Fill me up.”
He buried himself to the hilt and came — a hot, pulsing flood that seemed to last forever, his cock jerking inside her, each spurt sending a shudder through her body. She felt it leaking out around his shaft, dripping down onto Tiny’s face, mixing with Marcus’s load already there.
When Darnell finally pulled out, Angela stayed in position, her pussy gaping and dripping, and looked down at Tiny.
“Open,” she said.
He opened his mouth, cum already smeared across his lips and cheeks. She lowered her pussy to his mouth and felt him seal his lips around her opening. She bore down, and the thick warmth of Darnell’s load slid out of her in a rush, filling Tiny’s mouth.
“Hold it,” she whispered. “Don’t swallow.”
She felt his cheeks bulge. She reached behind her and found his caged cock, the metal slick with his precum. She found the small key on the chain around her neck and unlocked him, and his tiny dick sprang free — hard, red, straining, barely four inches and throbbing.
“Swallow,” she said.
He swallowed. She felt his throat work against her pussy, and she ground down on his mouth, riding his face while she stroked his freed cock with two fingers and her thumb.
“Such a good cumslut,” she murmured. “Mommy’s perfect little sissy.”
He came in seconds — a thin, weak spurt that dribbled over her fingers and onto his stomach. She milked him dry, then lifted her pussy from his face and slid down to lick his perineum, her tongue tracing the sensitive skin behind his balls while he whimpered and shook.
“Marcus owns me,” she said to the room, looking up at both men. “And Tiny belongs to us.”
She glanced at the mirror, taking in the full picture — Darnell’s cum on her thighs, Marcus’s cum on Tiny’s face, Tiny’s own pitiful load on his belly, her body marked and claimed.
She wondered what tomorrow would bring.
To Be Continued…?
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