Six Dead Poets

I wondered what it was about these men that drew them to guys like me. How was I their type? I was dressed like a cartoon boy slut, I came from a working class family, the kind of upbringing they couldn't imagine. I doubted any of them had ever had to work a day in their lives, with their families' money and their posh accents.

And yet they all lusted after me as if I was some tasty piece of eye fillet instead of something burnt and dropped on the floor for one of their wheaten terriers to scarf down.

There was the dull thud of shoes against carpet as someone solid came to stand in front of me.

"What on earth possessed you to come here, boy?" Walt's voice was low and full of contempt. "Letting yourself be used by all and sundry. Even Frost's had at you, and you're still here, begging for more."

Begging?

A hand brushed against my chest, running across me left to right, as he walked around me.

His voice came from behind me. "Have you no self respect?"

I hadn't signed up to be insulted.

I put a hand to my blindfold and something hard smacked the back of my hand. It fucking hurt.

I rubbed my hand, tears stinging my eyes. "What the fuck—"

"Does he need a gag?" Walt asked Will, and then his voice grew closer as he leaned into me, "Or will you behave?"

Now I was angry. I reached for the blindfold again, but a hand gripped my hair harder than even I liked it, wrenching my head back, and I put my hands to his arm instead, trying to force him to let go.

"Get off me!"

The grip in my hair eased, and Walt spoke close to my face. His breath smelled overpoweringly of sweet liquor. Was he drunk?

"Here's how this works. I have fifteen minutes to fuck your mouth. That fifteen minutes is valuable to me. If you fuck this up for me, I will take it out on you in pain. Do you understand?"

I snarled at him. "No you fucking won't."

"Oh yes, I will."

He touched my hard length lightly with his fingers and I let out a shivering breath.

"And you'll do as I say, because if you don't, you won't get to cum. And I'll make you want to cum so badly you'll do anything to have my hand on you."

He stroked my swollen head with his thumb and forefinger and I believed him, because it felt that good.

He spun me around and pushed me, and I stumbled forwards. My knees hit the leather-covered ottoman, and he pushed me again so that I was forced onto my hands and knees on top of it.

"Turn around."

I did as he said, sitting up on my knees, angry, but horny. And that was the problem. Despite wanting to kick his head in, I was desperate for him to touch me again.

"Put your hands behind your head."

I gave him the finger and he laughed. A second later, I felt his hot breath against my throbbing cock. His tongue brushed against me, and I pushed my hips forward.

"Hands behind your head."

Gritting my teeth and tempted to punch him, I did as he said.

He moved in closer and ran a hand down my back, then smacked my arse, gripping my arse cheek hard, digging his fingers into my flesh. He smacked me again.

"I'm going easy on you because this is your first time here," he said in a low voice. "So take the opportunity to listen and learn."

He moved in and pushed his hand under mine to grip my hair hard, pulling my head back. My mouth fell open, half in pleasure, half in pain, stunned as I always was when someone hurt me this way.

I heard him take a sip of something and assumed Will had handed him a glass of wine. A second later, he dribbled the wine into my open mouth.

"Swallow," he said, and I did.

"Now, I don't know if you can suck a cock," said Walt, "But I do know you've sucked a few tonight. What I want from you is your A-game. None of this half-arsed, trying-to-get-yourself-off crap you flits like to pull."

He took another sip and dribbled more wine into my mouth. I swallowed it and licked a splash of it from my lips.

"Good boy. I can see you learn quickly. Maybe you won't waste my time after all."

He let go of my hair and put both hands to my nipples, squeezing them hard.

I gritted my teeth and said nothing, and sensed his approval.

A song started, brooding bass and reverb-soaked lyrics.

"Keep your hands behind your head," said Walt. He squeezed my nipples hard again and moisture prickled against my eyelids.

"Stay there."

He took his hands off me, and I heard him getting undressed.

On my knees, with my hands behind my head, I felt stretched out and taut, my cock throbbing and dribbling precum, my need reaching the point of pain.

Walt gripped me again. He was holding something. As he held both hands on my shoulders, the narrow object dug into me. Whatever it was, it was long enough to reach from shoulder to shoulder. And then the tip of it brushed my skin, and I realised what it was. A fucking riding crop.

"You touch me with that and I'll—"

Walt lifted his hand off my shoulder and smacked me across the back with the crop.

"Fuck!"

I reached out a hand to try and stop him doing it again, and he dropped the crop and grabbed both of my wrists.

"Cuffs," he said, and a second later my traitorous best mate was there, doing what he did best. Fucking my boundaries into oblivion.

He undid the leather already around my wrists and buckled leather restraints on in their place. Walt let go of me, and Will pulled my arms behind my back and locked the restraints in place.

Walt's breath, rich with alcohol, whispered against my face again. "I'd gag you, but I need your mouth open. Now turn around."

"Get fucked."

He smacked the crop against my arse.

I yelped, and he grabbed a fistful of my hair hard enough to push past my pain tolerance.

"Turn the fuck around."

He let go of me and I did as he said, gasping from the pain. As soon as I had my back to him, he started smacking my arse with the crop.

Traffic lights didn't occur to me. Instead, I called him a cocking wank, a fucking arsehole, a prick, a cunt, and then repeated myself, getting angrier every time the crop landed, wanting him to stop, but also not wanting him to stop.

He paused and ran his hand over my arse and under me and I fell silent.

My face was damp with tears of pain, and I was sure there was a strand of precum caught between me and the surface I was kneeling on.

He caressed me, then moved into me, and his hard cock pushed against one arse cheek, leaving a wet smear that dried cold.

"You'll be in room five one day, lad," he said, and ran the crop down the middle of my back. "And then I'll fuck you so hard you'll think God himself's taken you up the arse."

The song changed, and I knew he had only a few minutes left.

"Right. Let's try out that mouth of yours, since you've stopped using it to gob off."

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled me off the bench, pushing me to the floor.

With my hands behind my back, I had no control. But to my surprise, he didn't fuck my mouth. Instead, he put his cock against my tongue and waited.

After a moment I tentatively licked at his precum and was rewarded by fingers moving against my scalp. I started in with lips and tongue, concentrating on the crown of his cock, then moving my mouth further down, using his touch as a gauge of whether or not he liked what I was doing.

I tried to take him in deep, and he gripped my hair tightly to pull me back.

I mentally shrugged and went back to teasing him with my tongue, using my mouth as best I knew how.

He let out a moan that gave me a swell of excitement. I realised I was paying so much attention to his signals, I wasn't paying any attention to my own horn, but it hadn't gone away.

I started to suction over him and he moaned again, his fingers harder against my skull, a pleasant scalp massage.

His hips started to move against my face and I drew my tongue up the underside of him, suctioning as he pulled out, tonguing him as he slid back in.

His hands gripped my hair painfully and he humped my face, stroking the tip of his cock across my tongue.

He made a satisfied noise under his breath as he came, thrusting his hips against my lips until he was spent.

He pulled out and I sat back on my heels, panting. I was so desperate to cum, I thought I might die, my stomach so full of cum, I thought I might throw up.

He pulled me to my feet and then dragged his hands down my body as he fell to his knees.

He put his hand around me and jacked me twice and wrapped his lips around me and I came, my legs shuddering, almost no cum if any to give him, just an explosive release of pressure followed by full body exhaustion.

My head swimming, I swayed in place, and Will caught me from behind and guided me back to the ottoman.

He undid the cuffs while I hung my head, nothing left.

Walt put a hand against my head as Will finished removing the cuffs, and ruffled my hair in a strange gesture of affection.

"Well done." His voice was gruff and pleasant now that he was satisfied. "Never be afraid you can't handle this new world you've found yourself in. You've the mettle for it."

As soon as my hands were free, I rested them on my thighs, listening while Walt got dressed. The second the door whispered shut behind him, Will took off the blindfold.

"What time is it?" I asked, and my voice was dull.

"Nearly eleven," he said. "Shall we go home?"

I nodded. He brought my clothes to me and I pulled them on, completely drained.

I fell against the banister as we took the stairs to the ground floor, and Will put his arm around my shoulders once we reached the bottom.

I glanced into the lounge and saw the woman in the tennis dress sitting in an armchair, a glass of whiskey in her hand. She got up as she saw us, and Will waited for her.

She took the envelope with our phones from the side table with the candle and handed our phones back to us.

"How did he do?" she asked him.

"I'm right, fucking here," I said, and she smiled.

"I hear Yeats and Byron both have a new favourite."

I glanced at Will.

"I think everyone enjoyed themselves," he said, his voice coolly polite.

"Glad to hear it," said The Woman. "Bring him back any time."

Like that. Like I was some pet of his.

I gave her daggers of death as she went back to her seat by the fire.

We walked outside to where a cab was waiting, and I got in and laid my head back against the seat and closed my eyes.

At home I barely made it up the stairs, and collapsed onto the bed.

I pulled off my clothes with the last of my energy and pulled the covers over me.

Will undressed, and I made room for him.

"You can't fuck me," I said. "Unless you plan on doing it while I'm asleep."

He ran a hand down my arm. "I'll let you sleep first. But I will fuck you before morning."

"Good luck," I said. I rolled onto my side and was asleep in minutes.

I woke later to music playing softly. Every muscle in my body ached. My throat felt as if I'd smoked a carton of cigarettes.

I rolled onto my back and found Will propped up on his elbow watching me.

"Morning, sunshine," he said.

I looked around the dark room. "This is not morning."

He grinned. "Good. Then I can make good on my promise."

I groaned. "No. Everything hurts."

"Roll over, I'll give you a massage."

I did as he said, and he pulled some massage oil from somewhere and ran his hands over my body, kneading my muscles, working out the knots and aches until I was completely relaxed under his touch.

He lay back beside me and held an arm out to me and I shifted into him.

He put his mouth against mine, his mouth and his tongue meeting mine in a slow kiss. None of his usual urgency. It was everything Byron's kiss had been and more.

He ran a hand down my body, pulling my hips into him, then trailed his fingers over me in a steady touch that woke my skin and brought me awake.

"I think if you touch my cock I might cry," I said.

"We wouldn't want that," he murmured, and touched me.

It was good that some pain turned me on, and that I was dead to everything but the worst of it when I was turned on enough.

I closed my eyes under his touch. "Okay, maybe I'll survive."

His song, the one he loved, played on, In a state of ecstasy... there is only you and me... and I let him tease me awake.

He was gentle, skimming his palm over my nipples, then kissing his way across my chest on down to my waist, brushed his lips over my slowly growing erection.

I winced.

"How about I just fuck you?" he said. "The way you wanted Byron to fuck you?"

Byron. The memory of his hands on my thighs on the bed brought a noise to the back of my throat.

I let out a long sigh. "Yeah, I could live with that."

I rolled onto my back and reached under my pillow.

Will knew what it took to get me ready for him, knew my body well enough to make sure any pain I felt was welcome.

He used his fingers and tongue to tease my hole until I started humping against him.

He leaned over me and kissed me again, his fingers toying at the nape of my neck, then running across my chest.

There was a look in his eyes that was new. Jealousy. He'd shared me with six other men, refused to let himself get off, and now he was... jealous. He'd deliberately made himself jealous.

And it'd made him softer somehow.

"You did look fucking hot tonight," he said, as he pushed my legs back.

I closed my eyes as he slid into me, relaxed and ready to take him. He was so hard and thick his entry burned, but it was a pain I wanted.

Once he was fully in, he fell forward against me, and I put my arms around him while he fucked me, his arms holding my legs back, his taut biceps painted with moonlight from the gap between the curtains.

His pale blue eyes stayed on my face, then grew heavy lidded as he fucked into me long and deep. I could feel how much he controlled himself, the tension in his body. Always trying to figure out how to get what he wanted without hurting me.

"Just fuck me," I said. "I can take it. Stop being so careful."

He paused and gave me a look of annoyance.

"You don't know what you're asking."

"Yeah, I do."

He made a face, fine, and picked up his pace, driving himself into me.

He pushed me down against the bed and I moved my hands to his arse, encouraging him to fuck into me as hard as he wanted.

"Fuck, Jesse," he snarled, "you'd better not fucking take this back."

I gripped his arse tighter and concentrated on riding the burn as he drove me into the bed.

"Oh fuck, Jess, fuck..." he broke off into a growl that turned into a snarl as he thrust himself so deep he drove the breath out of me—and then he pulled out, running his hand over his cock, and mine. I had no idea how close I was until his cum splashed against me and I came in his hand, a juddering, near-painful climax.

He massaged both our cocks, slicking both with his cum, then let go.

He held himself over me as I went limp under him, and kissed me, just a brush of his lips against mine.

"Tell me I didn't hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me any more than I wanted to be hurt," I said. "But please don't try and fuck me again for maybe, I don't know, eight hours, if you can manage it?"

He grinned and kissed my sweaty forehead, and I pushed his face away.

"Get off will you."

He rolled to lie beside me and stifled a yawn with the back of his hand.

"I think I can sleep now."

I glanced at my phone. It was 3 a.m.

"You've not slept yet?"

He shook his head. "So, if you could shut the fuck up, that'd be great."

I rolled away from him and he rolled against me and put his arm across me.

"Goodnight, Jess."

"Fuck you, Will."

Ten minutes later, we were both asleep.

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About this story

It took a long time for this idea to percolate to the point of being written, deciding to write this the way I have [flawed characters, bad decisions], and I hope the result's enjoyable, and not too traumatic.

If you have questions about what you've just read, please leave a comment, or message me via the feedback form on my profile.

I'd also like to thank electricblue66 for providing the soundtrack to build these scenes against (I wanted some dark music Jesse/I hadn't heard before and he provided some brilliant suggestions - thanks, mate), and to holliday1960 for beta reading, feedback and encouragement. As always, deeply appreciated.

Jase.