Casey’s sessions with Marcus’s “friends” continue regularly, every weekend. After the first one, word of mouth must get around—or else Marcus’s advertising worked—because over a dozen men show up to the second session. Eventually Marcus caps the number at ten, because any more than that don’t really fit comfortably in the den, nor does it leave much time for everyone to get their fill of fucking Casey otherwise. Casey still has no idea what Marcus tells his parents about these sessions.
Casey hates it. It’s not the fucking—he still loves being plowed, having his ass filled up and rammed hard, sucking on cocks until he can get them to blow their loads helplessly into his mouth. But at Marcus's place he’s not in control of it. He’s unable to stop them when it starts to hurt, or when he gets too overwhelmed and, worst of all, he’s not able to come.
True to his word, Marcus continues to hold onto Casey’s key, keeping it hostage. After a month of being heartily fucked with no release, Casey finally swallows enough of his pride to beg Marcus to let him out, just to have some kind of quick wank. Anything.
The boy sneers at him. “You don’t need it. You came while you were being ass-fucked earlier, didn’t you? I heard one of the guys say.”
This is true. Casey is so pent up now that he’s starting to come occasionally from the men fucking his ass. It happened the first time on the third week; an unexpected brush into his prostate had his hips bucking as he helplessly spilled his seed through the bars of his cage and messed up the panties they’d barely pulled down to his thighs. But as Marcus continues to refuse him a proper orgasm, it’s been happening more and more. It’s not the release he wants, not what Casey desperately craves, but it does relieve a little bit of pressure. When it doesn’t happen from the marathon dickings he gets at Marcus’s, Casey is forced to shove his own fingers up his ass periodically just to get a little bit of that relief.
It also leaves him absurdly sore. At first Casey tried to cancel his usual sessions at school. As much as he loves being fucked by his classmates and Mr. Ramiel, doing it all week after his marathon sessions on the weekend is a bit much. But after the first two days of avoiding his school activities, he’d received a stern text message from Marcus warning him that he had to maintain appearances, and threatening terrible things if he let his usual sessions slide.
And so his week is full of cock, as is Casey. Constantly. His ass is growing accustomed to the constant stretch and penetration, to the point where he almost feels weird now when he isn’t being fucked.
“What can I do?” he persists, as Marcus leads him down the stairs before the usual session. It’s been a very long month. “You said you wanted to keep the key as insurance. It must be pretty obvious by now that I’m not going to run away or anything. What do I need to do to get you to unlock the cage? I don’t even need the key back, I just want a chance to jack off once. Seriously, please. Have a little pity.”
Marcus turns back to stare at him, giving him a skeptical, appraising look up and down. He frowns slightly, as though thinking.
“Fine,” he says after a moment. “If you can show during today’s fuckfest that you’re actually really into this whole thing, like seriously want it, then I’ll consider letting you get off. Some of the guys have been complaining that you don’t seem that into it. Not that most of them care, but I don’t want to lose customers ‘cause you’re too moody to enjoy being plugged.”
“Thank you,” Casey grits, although it galls him utterly to have to thank Marcus for being less cruel than he otherwise would be.
After changing in the bathroom, Casey assumes his usual position kneeling on the ottoman under the spotlight and clenches his teeth as Marcus slides the now-customary vibrator up his ass while they wait. He says nothing while the toy whirrs away inside him. At least these days it’s less uncomfortable having the toy shoved inside him, since Casey takes the time to prep himself well before coming over.
When the first of the young men arrive and make their way down the stairs, instead of staying still and waiting, Casey looks over his shoulder and reaches behind himself to flip up his skirt, revealing the lump of the vibrator’s base stretching his panties with an obvious bulge over his asshole. He wiggles his ass invitingly at the approaching men.
“There you are,” he says in his best seductive voice. “My ass was getting really lonely waiting for you. Please, I can’t take it much longer—I need your cocks deep in all my holes.”
He sees sickly, cruel grins spread across the faces of the young men as they finally reach him. One puts a hand on Casey’s ass and uses the base of his palm to jam the vibrator as deep as he can into Casey. “Oh yeah?” he asks. Casey groans in encouragement.
“You can fuck me with the vibrator in if you want,” he offers. “Honestly, the more I can get stuffed up my ass, the better I like it.”
“Heh,” says one of the other guys. “That sounds like a challenge.”
What follows is the most grueling session Casey has yet to endure. Many of the men have brought their own toys, and at Casey’s encouragement they plug him with as many of them as they can fit. At one point one of the men fucks Casey while two additional dildos simultaneously stretch his asshole beside the man’s cock. Casey feels like he’s going to split in half. But he doesn’t dare let on that the sensation is painful. Instead he pushes through it and grits out, “And my mouth? Please, if my ass is going to be so full, I need at least one cock to suck on at the same time! It’s always best to be rammed from both ends!”
The session continues longer than most. Casey’s talk seems to really turn the men on, and many of them go for quite a few more rounds than usual. When they’re not fucking him, they’re filling him with toys, laughing as they try to jam yet another wand or plug up his crammed-full hole, and smirking as they pinch and twist his nipples, or slap his ass.
Casey can’t deny them. One man fucks him roughly by grabbing onto Casey’s nipples with both hands and yanking them sharply every time he thrusts into Casey. “How about this?” he asks as he grinds his hips into Casey’s, plunging himself as deep as he can. “You like this, you little slut?”
Casey yelps involuntarily at the sharp pain as his nipples are harshly twisted. “Oh yeah,” he grits out. “Please, more. My body is your toy. Please do whatever you want with it. Just so long as I get to feel your huge cock in me.”
This, of course, only leads to more abuse: pinching, spanking, hair-pulling. At one time, when no one is using his mouth, they even put a gag on him. Casey is oddly grateful for it, as it means he doesn’t have to keep spewing lies about how enthusiastic he is.
When the men finally leave, late into the evening, Casey lies exhausted on his back on the ottoman, covered in their cum. He breathes heavily, his chest heaving, and turns his head to see Marcus, who is—as usual—still sitting reading on the couch. “Well?” he asks, to get his attention. “I did what you said.”
Marcus glances up from his book to roll his eyes, and dog-ears the page he was on, setting the book aside. “Fine,” he says, sounding grudging. “I guess you did. Seems like they had a pretty good time listening to you beg for it, too.” He leers, but he does get up and go over towards the closet where all the supplies are kept. Casey closes his eyes in relief, barely able to move.
He hears Marcus approach, and then suddenly Casey’s eyes fly open as he feels Marcus yank one of Casey’s legs up at the knee and casually slide the big purple vibrator right up Casey’s ass. Casey yelps—more from the surprise than the sensation—as Marcus turns it on.
“What the hell?!” Casey yells as Marcus once again makes his way back to the couch.
Marcus turns to grin over his shoulder, shrugging. “I said you could get off. I know you can do it from getting stuffed up the ass, so go for it.”
Casey snarls at him, too blind with anger even to swear. He reaches down and grabs the vibrator’s base, feeling around it with his fingers until he can hit the switch and turn the thing off. The large dildo blessedly stops moving inside him, ceasing its torture on his sore, abused flesh. But as he maneuvers it around to pull it out, it brushes against his prostate and causes him to go rigid involuntarily.
He needs to get off so bad he can practically taste it. He’s been fucked so hard today he can’t stand it anymore. Almost against his own will, Casey nudges the dildo back inside himself lightly, hitting up against his own prostate once more. Pleasure shoots like lightning along his tired muscles; his cock twitches futilely in its cage.
With a snarled, cut-off curse, Casey takes firmer hold of the dildo’s base and begins to fuck himself with it. It doesn’t take much; small, rhythmic motions press the phallic toy against his prostate again and again, wringing pleasure out of his tired body. He writhes against it as the toy continues to find the mark. Casey squeezes his eyes firmly shut and tries to pretend that Marcus is not there, inevitably laughing at him, thinking about how pathetic he is that he can’t help but fuck himself to get off. Casey groans involuntarily.
At least the humiliation is mercifully short, with how worked up he is. A few minutes of milking his prostate and Casey comes, spilling himself through the bars of his cage, satisfied and yet still insanely frustrated at the same time. With a grimace, Casey slides the dildo back out of himself, feeling his passage squeeze the toy in protest as it works its way out of his anus. Finally his body reluctantly relinquishes the toy, and Casey drops it on the floor. He opens his eyes and turns his head to look at Marcus, who is watching him with an amused, condescending look.
“I hate you,” Casey tells him. “You’re a horrible bastard, you know that?”
“What’re you gonna do about it?” Marcus mocks. When Casey has no reply, he stands up. “Get cleaned up. I’ll drive you home.”
Marcus’s words unexpectedly stick with Casey. What is he going to do about this? Things can’t continue like this; there’s no way he’s going to be stuck being Marcus’s sex slave forever. Besides, it’s only a matter of time before the guys start asking Marcus to let them do things that Casey can’t forgive.
Christmas break is coming up soon, and Casey overheard Marcus telling his customers to expect a marathon “fuckfest,” as he put it. The strangers that Marcus brings in to fuck Casey have been bringing up worrying topics: things like piercings, and animal participants. Marcus hasn’t told them yet that they can do these things, but he also hasn’t said no. If Casey is going to get out of this, he needs to do it soon.
But what can he do? Marcus has everything on Casey. He knows Casey’s secret. He’s got Casey’s key. He’s got photographs of Casey’s dick and toy-stuffed ass on his phone. He’s got all the leverage in the world.
The problem sits ceaselessly in the back of Casey’s mind, with no solution. Until finally, one day, the seed of an idea starts to germinate.
The first spark of inspiration comes from a rather unexpected source. Casey is sitting in English class as usual when the teacher asks the class to partner up, reading the current chapter in their book quietly with another student and discussing what it means. Casey pushes his desk up against that of his assigned partner and puts the book between them, holding it open and starting to read.
Casey’s assigned partner is a blond boy that Casey doesn’t talk to much. He’s pretty sure the guy’s name is James, but that’s about all he can remember. James sits quietly for a moment while Casey reads, before casually reaching over and slipping his arm between Casey’s back and the back of his chair, placing his hand on the dip in the small of Casey’s back.
Casey stutters slightly in his reading, but continues. James leans in, ostensibly so he can see the book to follow along with Casey’s reading, and murmurs quietly, “So, are the rumors about you true?”
Casey stops reading, but doesn’t move. His hands grip the edges of the book tightly on top of the desk. “Rumors?” he asks, just as quietly. They’re in the very back of the room; no one is behind them to see the way James’s hand casually slips downward, his fingers dipping below the elastic of Casey’s skirt. If they speak this quietly, no one will hear them, either.
“Yeah,” James breathes as his fingertips gently slide down along Casey’s crack. “The rumors about what you do with boys after school, in room 402? I tend to assume Marcus’s rumors are all bullshit, because they mostly are, but I’ve heard now from quite a few sources that you’re...” The fingers slip further down into Casey’s crack, between his cheeks. “...open-minded, about certain things, compared to most girls.”
Casey says nothing, and bites his lip. James seems to take this as permission, and his questing finger probes deeper, wiggling its way forward until he is finally pushing against Casey’s anus.
Normally he wouldn’t be able to do much more from this position, but unfortunately Casey’s ass is exceedingly well-lubed from a rather enthusiastic session this morning with Mr. Ramiel. Instead of being discouraged by firm friction, James’s finger encounters little to no resistance as it smoothly slips up inside Casey.
James grins and crooks the finger, making Casey gasp. Casey bites his lip harder. His eyes dart frantically to the bored teacher at the front of the room, but the nun doesn’t seem to be watching them. No one is. No one but Casey notices as James slides a second finger up into Casey’s anus to join the first and pushes them forward as deep as he can from this angle.
Casey lets out a soft, barely-audible whimper, but it’s enough to make the girl in front of them turn around suspiciously, raising an eyebrow. James raises an eyebrow right back and her, and she turns back to her own partner. The moment her eyes are off them, James starts to twist his fingers back and forth inside Casey like a corkscrew. Casey clenches his teeth to stop another whimper from escaping.
“You’d better keep reading,” James murmurs. “Otherwise people will get suspicious.”
Casey swallows. “Why don’t you read?” He means it to come out annoyed, but it sounds pleading instead.
“You’re the one holding the book,” James points out.
Casey takes a deep breath, and continues reading softly. His voice trembles as James shifts his weight slightly, adjusting his leverage so he can start to thrust his fingers in and out of Casey’s ass. It’s not much; he doesn’t have the greatest angle, and he has to keep the movements small anyway to avoid attention. But he is still clearly and nonchalantly finger-fucking Casey, which makes it very difficult to concentrate.
“I remember being in the parlour after they had quarrelled,” Casey reads, “and Edgar being cruelly provoking, and me running into this room desperate. As soon as ever I had barred the door, utter blackness overwhelmed me, and I fell on the floor. I couldn’t explain to Edgar how certain I felt of having a fit, or going raging mad, if he persisted in t-teasing me!” Casey gasps as James thrusts particularly hard.
“I had no command of tongue, or brain, and he did not guess my agony, perhaps: it barely left me sense to try to escape from him and his voice. Before I recovered sufficiently to see and hear, it began to be dawn, and, Nelly, I’ll tell you what I thought, and what has kept recurring and recurring till I feared for my reason. I thought as I lay there, with my head against that table leg, and my eyes dimly discerning the grey square of the window, that I was enclosed in the oak-panelled bed at home; and my heart ached with some great grief which, just waking, I could not recollect.”
Before Casey can continue, James finds his prostate. Casey has to stop to clamp his mouth shut, rather than shouting his pleasure aloud to the whole class. James smirks, clearly realizing he’s hit something good, and pushes against the spot again. This time Casey can’t help but whimper at the sensation, but the sound is miraculously drowned out by the bell, which rings at the same moment.
“Alright,” calls the nun from the front of the room. “Remember where you left off. We’ll continue with this exercise tomorrow.”
As smoothly and casually as he inserted them, James slides his fingers back out of Casey, wiping them off easily on the inside of Casey’s waistband. “How about you and me pick up where we left off this afternoon in 402?” he murmurs softly to Casey. “I gotta say, it’s a real pleasure to find out that one of Marcus’s rumors is true for once.”
Casey shivers, and has to swallow before he finds his voice. “I-I’ll see you there.”
The encounter sticks in Casey’s head and won’t let go—not for the impropriety of it, although he is greatly pleased when, even after fucking him hard that afternoon, James resumes his covert ministrations the following day, fingering Casey for the entire period of English class while they “read” together—but more for what James said about Marcus’s rumors. It makes him think about other rumors he’s heard in the school, and what could be behind them.
First and foremost, it makes Casey think of Rachel. Rachel sits next to Casey in his computer graphics class, where Casey has previously noted her unparalleled Photoshop skills. But more than that, Rachel is the girl who warned Casey about Marcus on Casey’s very first day of school.
There are a number of rumors about Rachel—vicious ones, and many contradictory: that she’s some kind of lesbian rapist, that she lures boys into getting her pregnant so she can get them kicked out of school and then get an abortion, that she blew the headmaster under his desk to ensure that she’d be top of the class.
After what James said, it suddenly seems painfully obvious to Casey where these rumors must have come from. How far did she let Marcus get, Casey wonders? Did she refuse to have sex with him, and he started the rumors out of spite? Or did she go through with it, and then he ditched her and started the rumors anyway?
Regardless of the obvious falseness of the rumors, people avoid Rachel anyway. She doesn’t seem to have any friends as far as Casey can tell, now that he’s looking for it. She handles it remarkable well, all things considered; she always walks with her head held high, and an air about her like she doesn’t give a shit about what everyone thinks. Casey wonders how long these rumors have existed, how long she’s had to learn to deal with them.
Casey starts with a small gesture: a compliment on Rachel’s work in computer graphics class. She seems utterly startled to have someone talking to her at all, but she does eventually smile at him. It looks almost sarcastic on her, like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, but in a weird way it makes her oddly likable.
He continues reaching out to her, over the course of a few weeks. Enough to feel comfortable bringing up Marcus, and to confirm what he suspected: she let him get handsy, then rejected him when he tried to push it further, and has been saddled with his rumors ever since.
At first Casey thinks she might be the only other person who hates Marcus as much as Casey does, but to hear Rachel tell it, half the female population of the school has had to deal with Marcus’s attentions in one way or another. Some have reported it, apparently, but everything comes down to rumors and hearsay, and no one seems inclined to take the word of a well-behaved “model student” over the unsubstantiated claims of his female peers. Especially when most of those peers submitted willingly to his attentions, before it all went sour.
A plan begins to form in the back of Casey’s mind. The more he talks to Rachel, the firmer and more practical it becomes. Unfortunately, it’s not something he can do alone. There’s at least one other ally he’ll need to make this work, and it’s going to involve risking a bit on faith.
It’s a cold December morning, two months after Marcus discovered Casey’s secret, and the school is warm and quiet as Mr. Ramiel leads the way into his office an hour before classes start. Once inside, Mr. Ramiel closes the door behind them, locks it for privacy, and leans casually against his desk, watching Casey expectantly.
“Are you okay?” he asks. “You seem nervous this morning.”
Casey swallows and fists his hands in his skirt. “There’s- there’s something I want to tell you about. To show you, I mean. But... I’m a little scared. I need... I need you to promise to keep it a secret. I really need your help.”
Mr. Ramiel stares at Casey for a moment, his expression inscrutable. Finally, he nods. “Alright. It’s my duty to help out students in need. What’s wrong?”
Casey takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Then he lifts his skirt.
Mr. Ramiel’s eyes drift down to the obvious bulge in Casey’s tight women’s underwear. Even caged, it’s obviously bigger than it should be for a girl. One of Mr. Ramiel’s eyebrows lifts slightly. Just to be clear about it, Casey releases his skirt with one hand and pulls down his underwear, exposing himself entirely. At the sight of the small metal cage enclosing Casey’s cock, both of Mr. Ramiel’s eyebrows rise.
Casey waits for a reaction, saying nothing. As Mr. Ramiel continues to not respond however, Casey’s nerves begin to fray, until he finally blurts out, “Are you surprised?”
“I thought I wasn’t, at first,” Mr. Ramiel says. “I’d started to pick up a few hints, given how careful you’ve been with certain positions. But that little contraption seems like there might be a story behind it worth telling.”
Casey bites his lip, letting his skirt fall as he pulls his panties back up. “Are you okay with it?” he asks, nervous. “How does it make you feel about... you know...”
Mr. Ramiel steps forward until he is face to face with Casey. He puts a comforting hand on each of Casey’s shoulders, letting them rest there until Casey finally looks up and meets his eyes. Mr. Ramiel smiles: an indulgent, paternal smile. Casey lets his shoulders relax.
“It makes me want you on your knees more often,” Mr. Ramiel says, and uses his hands on Casey’s shoulders to push Casey down. Casey almost loses his balance as he stumbles to his knees, forced to reach forward and grab onto Mr. Ramiel’s legs for stability. As he goes down, the hands on his shoulders slide up into his hair. When Casey is just beginning to regain his balance, Mr. Ramiel uses his new leverage to yank Casey’s head forward, mashing his face against Mr. Ramiel’s cloth-covered crotch.
It smells thickly of arousal, musty and masculine. Casey can’t help but inhale the scent deeply. Mr. Ramiel removes one hand from the back of Casey’s head to undo the clasps on his own pants, and Casey eagerly reaches forward to help him with the task, undoing the man’s zipper and tugging down on his underwear until Mr. Ramiel’s eager cock springs free, already quite hard.
With little preamble, Mr. Ramiel grabs Casey’s head once more and forces it down onto his cock, popping it into Casey’s mouth like it’s supposed to be there. Casey barely has time to relax his throat before Mr. Ramiel’s cock is hitting the back of it. After that, it’s all he can do to hold onto Mr. Ramiel’s legs for dear life as the teacher face-fucks the living daylights out of him, ramming Casey’s head so hard back and forth onto Mr. Ramiel’s cock that it feels like one long, continuous gag reflex.
Casey tries desperately to swallow around the intruding member, but that only seems to encourage the teacher and make him thrust harder. Just when Casey is sure he’s going to black out from the swooping, frantic intensity, Mr. Ramiel stills with his cock buried as deep as he possibly can in Casey’s throat, Casey’s lower lip brushing against the man’s balls, and desperately pumps an enormous load of cum into Casey’s receptive orifice. Casey chokes and swallows and swallows, seeing stars as the flow of semen down his throat finally recedes enough for him to breathe again.
With a pleased sigh, Mr. Ramiel withdraws from Casey’s mouth and gives him a fond pat on the cheek. He leans back on his desk, spent cock still exposed to the open air, and gives Casey an appraising look. “Now,” he says, “want to tell me all about that little cage of yours? I’d love to get worked up enough again to plow your ass once before class starts.”
Casey shivers. “You’re not going to tell anyone?”
Mr. Ramiel shrugs. “As I’m sure you know well enough, I’ve got much more to lose from these encounters going public than you do. And I must say,” his smile is, oddly, almost shy, “I rather look forward to these mornings. I’d very much like them to continue, as long as you’re amenable. So, are you going to explain what you need from me?”
So Casey does. He tells Mr. Ramiel about the mixup with his uniform on the first day of school. He tells the story of Marcus’s initial overtures towards him, and what that led to. He explains about buying the cage to keep himself from being discovered, and about Marcus’s blackmail and what Marcus makes him do every weekend. And, finally, he tells Mr. Ramiel his plan.
Mr. Ramiel is frowning when he finishes. “Are you sure? That sounds very risky. Are you sure you can rely on your friend?”
“I know she can do it,” Casey insists. “It’s the only thing that will work. But it will work, I’m sure of it.”
“Either way,” Mr. Ramiel says, “you’re not coming out of this with a spotless reputation.”
Casey shrugs. “I don’t have a spotless reputation now. So, will you help me?”
Mr. Ramiel nods. “If you decide to go through with it, I’ll certainly do my part. Do you have a planned timeline?”
“I have to do it before Christmas break,” says Casey. “I don’t want to think about what he’ll have me do otherwise. God, if it doesn’t work it’ll only be worse, I’m sure. But one way or another, I want it to be over before then.”
Mr. Ramiel nods. “Alright, just give me a signal when you need me. Now.” He smiles broadly. Looking down at the man’s crotch, Casey sees that Mr. Ramiel is hard again.
“Hands and knees on the floor,” Mr. Ramiel instructs. “Pull the panties down around your thighs.” He rummages out a small bottle of lube from the top drawer of his desk and uncaps it. “We need to get you prepped and well-fucked before class starts.”