Shelter from the Storm Pt. 02

This is a direct continuation of Part 1, and you are advised to read that first. There will be a third and final installment to follow.

As before, this is a purely gay male story with no hetero action, and it has some (very light) non-consent elements.

***

When I first stirred in the warm bed, it took me a moment to realise why I felt so safe. I had grown so used to waking up in a state of tension and fear. Why did I feel so comfortable? And what was this warm, sugary, somehow dirty sense of delight that seemed to be curled up somewhere inside me?

Then I registered the heavy, comforting arm that lay across my naked back as I nestled in the middle of the huge, soft bed. And it all came rushing back. With a jolt, the reality hit me, and for a moment I tensed. The arm draped possessively across me belonged to James. And James was the man who, last night, had fucked my virgin ass for the very first time. The memory of it made me shiver. The memory of everything else that had happened last night made me quail suddenly with nervous fear.

I was in a closed, fortified community where boys like me were used as sex slaves by bigger, stronger, more dominant men. Men like James and Sam: tall, toned, confident, in control, and easily able to make me do whatever they wanted. I had agreed to stay in this community for two nights -- which meant there was a whole 24 hours still to go. Was I really doing this? It seemed insane. In the coming day and night, the men here might do anything to me.

And as that thought sank in, a giddy eagerness flared to life inside me.

Yes. The men here might do anything to me.

I was completely in their power. I was a submissive, innocent little slave, ready to be passed around and enjoyed by any man who wanted me. And in spite of all the worries and fears that were spinning around in my head again, that thought made my tummy squirm with queasy, nervous excitement. The idea of what might happen to me in the day ahead was frightening, yes. But I had to admit to myself that it also made tingles of anticipation shiver through my body.

Something in me had woken up last night, and there was no putting it back to sleep. I was experiencing a yearning, visceral hunger that I had never known before. A bizarre cocktail of feelings swirled inside me: fear and tension as anxious questions buzzed insistently around in my head, wondering if I was safe, scared of what these men might do to me ... but all of it mixed with the memory of that sweet surrender, when I let myself give in to the delicious thrill of my first cock. And mixed, too, with a dirty, intoxicating desire for more. A desire that threatened to sweep away everything sensible, everything nervous, everything cautious and responsible inside my head.

A small noise to the side of the bed made me give a start. I looked, and realised what had woken me up. Sam had got out of the bed, and was now standing beside it, still naked. He stretched, and the muscles in his shoulders and his torso rippled. Then he glanced back at me, saw that I was awake, and grinned.

"Morning little boy," he said softly. "Did you sleep well?"

Being called a little boy brought that giddy feeling surging up again. I smiled at him sheepishly. He looked so good, standing there casually naked, his whole lean, muscly body on show.

I couldn't help but look at his cock, hanging slack between his legs, but still so thick, so heavy-looking ...

Last night -- and I felt the memory viscerally in my body as my asshole ached -- that cock had been inside me, huge and rough and pounding me like I had no say and no choice in the matter. It had hurt a lot ... and yet the sight of that cock now made me feel like something inside me was melting. My resistance was wilting pathetically. Just the sight of it alone made me want to be in his power again.

"Are you leaving?" I whispered.

Sam nodded. "I've got watch duty this morning," he told me. "I need to be up on the walls, patrolling. So I'll be taking a shower, and leaving you to James."

I pouted. Half a second later, I caught myself, and wondered what in the world I thought I was doing. Was I seriously pouting -- acting like a little girl -- because a man was leaving the bed he had just shared with me?

But Sam was raising an eyebrow and grinning wider, seeing the look on my face. "Going to miss me, cutie?" he asked in a teasing tone.

I blushed scarlet and buried my face in the sheets. But as I did so, I felt the yearning sweep through me again. I didn't want him to go. I wanted him to use me for his pleasure before he left to do his duties. I wanted to be the toy that he played with before he left to start his day. God, what was happening to me?

On an impulse, I shuffled over in the bed until my head was at the edge nearest him, facing him as I lay on my stomach, my head poking out from under the duvet at the level of his crotch. I looked up at him, wide-eyed. I felt somehow extremely small and vulnerable, and yet at the same time reckless, adventurous, hungry.

Some instinct made me speak, before there was time for my conscious mind to register what I was saying.

"Won't you let me give you a goodbye blowjob before you leave?" I whispered.

Hearing the longing, pleading tone in my own voice, I felt my insides shrivel with embarrassment. Had I lost all my dignity? Was this really who I was?

But Sam's cock was twitching, hardening right in front of my eyes, and as I looked up at him I saw a hard, hungry look appear in his gaze. My stomach churned, and all the feelings of shame and degradation inside me were overridden by a fresh wave of desire. I just wanted to feel the incredible fullness of my mouth and throat with that huge, hot length of cock in them again. I felt like I was going mad. I was practically begging a man to slide his cock into my mouth ... what was happening to me?

But I couldn't stop myself. "Please let me suck for you," I heard myself say in the same yearning, almost desperate tone. "I want to show you I'm grateful for teaching me to take cock ..."

Sam let out a breath that sounded heavy with desire. "Oh, you are going to be such a popular slave," he told me, his voice husky. "All the big boys are going to be lining up for their turn with you."

Then he took hold of my face, gripping my head in his strong, sure hands.

"Trouble is," he told me, a mischievous undertone in his voice, "I really don't have time to just lie back and let you suck me. If I'm going to come in your mouth before I leave ... I'm going to have to fuck it."

A shudder ran through my body. Sam's hands gripping my head on either side were firm, and I knew I would never be strong enough to pull away. I was held in place, perfectly positioned to be used as a fuck object. This was a very different kind of attention from what I had wanted when the urge to suck his cock swept over me, and I suddenly wondered what I had been thinking. Sam's cock was fully hard now -- huge and thick and throbbing, filling my field of vision, making me tremble with awe.

But I couldn't back out now. I took a deep breath. Obediently, I opened my mouth wide, and stuck out my tongue for him.

He slid his cock into my mouth, and pushed it all the way down my throat.

I began to gag, and for a moment I choked and my body shuddered as I tried to clench and push it out. But then I forced myself to remember what I had been taught last night. I made my throat muscles relax. I willed the back of my mouth to go slack, to open, to let that cock slide smoothly in. My tongue was against his shaft, my lips wrapped around him, and the taste of his cock made me feel shamelessly dirty.

Holding my head firmly in his hands, he began to vigorously fuck my mouth.

It was alarming, degrading, overwhelming. When I had sucked my first cocks last night, I had been, on some level, in control. It hadn't felt that way at the time, because the entire act of taking a man's cock into my mouth had felt so deeply and wonderfully submissive -- an act of service, an act of worship, giving up my mouth for the pleasure of another man. And besides, if I had decided in the middle of giving my first blowjob that I wanted to stop sucking ... well, I knew that wouldn't have been allowed. Boys did not simply stop sucking cock in this place. Any boy who tried would still end up having a big load of cum pumped down his throat.

But despite that, I now realised that in the most basic physical sense, I had still been in control of what was happening in my mouth.

I was not in control now. Sam was fucking my mouth with abandon, freely using my face as a toy for him to pump his cock in. Again and again he thrust deep into my throat, and I was gagging, drooling, my whole body squirming under the duvet. It felt degrading in a way that nothing else had felt so far. He had fucked my ass just as roughly as this, but doing it to my mouth was different: it made me feel all over again that I was nothing but an object, a possession, a plaything. Like nothing about me mattered except the way it made him feel to pump his cock in my mouth.

And it made me feel so, so good.

His hands holding me in place made me feel anchored, safe, owned, used. The fullness of my mouth and throat was intoxicating; the thrusting rhythm of his cock was the only thing my mouth was good for, the only thing that mattered, the only point to me. I became aware that my cock was rock-hard. A rush of shame swept through me. Why was I responding like this to the way he was using me? And yet at the same time, I realised that I couldn't resist this feeling. I wanted it. I wanted to be a submissive little fuck object for him.

Faster and faster he fucked my mouth, that huge, hard thickness pumping in my throat while I drooled uncontrollably. Then I felt his fingers tighten on either side of my head, and the first warm, thick, milky spurt of cum burst out of his cock. Again and again it came, a huge load surging into my mouth, and I was struggling to swallow -- the cum was already dribbling out of my mouth and dripping down my chin. Sam let out a massive, groaning sigh while I choked and gagged on his shuddering, spurting cock. And then at last he was done, and the last drops of cum slid onto my tongue as he slowly withdrew.

I gasped for air, panting, flat on my stomach with my head at the edge of the bed. Sam bent down, a gentle hand cupping my face, and kissed me softly on the forehead. I leant my head into his hand, taking deep breaths, and let him gently stroke my cheek.

"Good boy," he murmured. "You're really learning what your place is now."

He kissed me again, and then he turned, and strode away to the shower.

I moaned, feeling overcome with a confusing mixture of giddy pleasure at his praise, and the fresh degradation of him dropping me and leaving for the shower the moment he had come. There was something about it that made me feel blissfully light-headed. I felt all the more like a possession, an object he had used and then discarded once he had taken his pleasure in me.

Then I felt an arm slip around my waist, and pull me firmly back into the middle of the bed. Gratefully, eagerly, I crawled back to James. He pulled me close and held me against him in his big, strong arms, and I snuggled into his chest. I felt small and naked and helpless. Just to curl up in his arms, with his hard, naked body wrapped around mine, was such a sweet relief that it made me almost swoon. I was warm, and safe, and tightly held.

"Did you like your face-fucking, Aston?" James murmured to me.

All I could give in response was a faint little moan. I whimpered into his chest. He laughed softly.

"You submitted like an obedient fucktoy," he said, stroking my hair. "I'm proud of you, Aston. You're doing so well at learning to be a good little slave."

I shivered with pleasure, and snuggled closer against him. He ran his hand down my back, and gave my ass a firm, possessive squeeze. With a sudden rush, I felt his cock pressing against my tummy, hard and throbbing with that eager, freshly charged early-morning energy.

All at once, I knew he was going to fuck me. And I knew he wasn't going to ask. He wasn't going to make sure I was okay first. He wasn't going to check if I was in the mood. He was just going to take what he wanted from me -- using my ass as his peachy little toy.

James tipped my face up to his, and kissed me on the mouth. It was slow and deep, his tongue caressing mine, his lips soft against my mouth. I passionately kissed him back, my tummy squirming with queasy anticipation. Then he pushed me firmly onto my stomach, so that I was lying flat against the sheet beneath the duvet, and he slipped his leg over me and climbed on top.

The weight of him pressed down on me, and I felt the hard, wet tip of his cock brushing against my asshole. All at once I felt the fright come back: I remembered the pain, and the loss of control, and the pummelling hardness of a cock in my ass. I shivered violently.

"Um," I said uncertainly, and my voice sounded small and scared. "Maybe I should go take a shower first ..."

Instantly, he put his hands on my upper arms and pinned me down, holding me in place. I heard him laugh, softly.

"Oh, you're going to take a shower, little boy," he told me. "After this, you and I are going to shower together. You're going to soap me up and scrub me down like a devoted little bitch. And then you're going to give me a long, sloppy shower blowjob. And maybe I'll make you drink my cum, or maybe I'll make you brace against the shower wall while I have some more fun in your slutty little ass."

The tip of his cock pressed hard against my asshole.

"But first, I'm going to start my day by filling your ass with my cum. Because that's what cute little twinks like you are made for."

I felt the weight of him press me into the mattress as he braced. And then the hard, hot length of his cock plunged deep into my ass.

I let out a long, moaning wail as I felt him thrusting hard and full inside me. He began to fuck me, slowly at first, but deep and full on every stroke -- and I could feeling him building up, going slowly faster, steadily harder and heavier with every pump of his long, hard, powerful cock. He was pinning me in place, and I could do nothing except take it, take it like the dirty little boy-slut I was. The painful, overwhelming ecstasy made me moan and pant as he used me relentlessly.

My cock was pressed against the mattress beneath me, and the motion of him fucking me made it rub -- gently at first, but soon harder, faster, firmer -- against the soft sheet on which he was pinning me down. Out of control, unable to move, I felt the orgasm building deep in my balls -- obscenely fast, embarrassingly fast, spurred on by the wild sensation of his cock in my ass and the way my body was rubbing against the mattress. All too soon, I came with a sudden, incredible intensity, the cum spurting furiously out of my cock, and I felt again the deep, pulsing, sweet bliss of this new type of orgasm -- the gorgeous sensation of coming while I was being fucked. I cried out loud again and again, surrendering completely to the feelings. I could feel the warm, sticky wetness of my cum all over my tummy: a huge load, impossible to ignore, undeniable evidence that I loved, loved, loved the way this made me feel. And as I lay there -- pinned down, taking a pounding cock in my tight, peachy ass, in a pool of my own cum -- I knew there was no point in fighting. I couldn't resist this. It felt too good. It felt like where I belonged.

At last James came in my ass, and I felt the wet surge of his cum filling me deep inside. With a deep, satisfied groan he pulled out of me, and let himself collapse on top of me. I like that a lot: the firm, heavy wieght of his muscled body on top of mine, holding me to the bed.

My mind had gone blissfully blank. I was safe, I was naked, and I had just been fucked in the ass. For the first time in countless years, I felt at peace.

After a little while he shifted, kissed me on the cheek, and murmured: "Come on then, little fucktoy. Showertime."

There was no more resistance in me. I was ready to do whatever he told me. I followed him, naked, into the bathroom, and we stood together under the hot water. He told me to soap him and scrub him down, and to my amazement, I found myself actually giggling and grinning with delight. He wanted me to touch and stroke and scrub his big, toned, muscly body -- those thick, brown arms, so much bigger than my slim little limbs; that hard, flat stomach; that perfect, beautiful chest -- and I was thrilled just to touch him, wash him, scrub down every inch of him. I lathered his cock and balls with soap, feeling him grow hard under my touch, and then rinsed him thoroughly until all the soap was gone. And then, with the mischievous twinkle back in his eye, he pushed me down onto my knees. I giggled and squirmed and felt like a delirious little boy, overcome with excitement -- and all because I got to suck his cock. As the hot, clean water soaked us, I knelt down for him, not caring about the hard tiles beneath my knees. And passionately, gaggingly, hungrily, I sucked and sucked on that big, hard, wonderful cock.

He came in my mouth, and I gratefully gulped down his cum. It made me feel so devoted, so happy, just to have the privilege of swallowing his thick, milky load ... even while some part of me was disappointed that he hadn't decided to pin me against the shower wall, and finish once again in my ass. And as that thought flashed through my head while I swallowed his cum, I knew this man could use me in any way he wanted, and I would never resist again. I would take it all like a totally submissive little boy.

Fifteen minutes later, we were sitting at the table back in the living room, eating a late breakfast. The food was good: bread, butter, fruits, and cheese, all of it in large portions and all of it delicious. James had put on a shirt and jeans. I wasn't allowed a shirt, it turned out: boys like me were required to be topless at all times. Instead, all I wore was another pair of the little pink shorts. Wearing this with nothing else gave me a delicious thrill. It made my heart pound to think that all a man had to do was pull down my shorts, and my ass would be fully exposed, naked, ready for the taking.

But at the same time, and for the exact same reason, I was starting to grow nervous again. I knew that very soon now, we would reach the moment when we left this room, and James introduced me (gave me? handed me over?) to some other, unknown men in this fortress. And the thought of that moment made my stomach churn. The past twelve hours had been extraordinary, giving up my body for James and Sam. But was I really ready to let any other man treat me the same way -- with no consent, no say in the matter, no choice?

I picked hesitantly at the last of my food. "James," I asked. "What do ... how does this place work, really? I mean --" I felt myself blushing as he raised an amused eyebrow at me. "I mean, I know I'm ... I know what I'm here for. If I stay. But how does it actually work? How do you all live in this place?"

James grinned. "Well," he said. "There are two types of men in our community. We usually call them men and boys. Or sometimes, big boys and little boys. Sam and I are big boys, Aston."

I blushed again, thinking about their cocks.

"The men tend to be bigger," James went on. "Sometimes older as well, although nobody is much above forty. We have to be very fit, because we do all the hard work. Not that there's really much work to do here -- the community basically runs itself. But the men guard the fortress, keep things running, and go on expeditions into the world outside, to take things that we need. So we have to be strong enough to look after ourselves."