Mr. Banks frowned slightly as he heard the door open and close. "You're late," he called out. He turned off the flame under the pasta sauce and gave it a last stir with the wooden spoon before stepping out into the hallway. He was about to say more when he saw Noah's expression. The boy's eyes were watery, full of remorse and cautious fear. Mr. Banks's frown eased. "What happened?"
"Papa," sniffed Noah, "I'm REALLY sorry! I tried to be home on time, but then there was this man on the subway and he was rubbing me and then he took out my plug and then he was fucking me on the subway and he ripped my panties and there was this other man with a newspaper watching me and he came over when the first guy was done and he put his fingers in me and he rubbed his cum on my stomach and I tried to get back on time but they made me miss my stop and so I had to take the train back in the other direction and I'm really REALLY sorry."
Mr. Banks blinked. "Slow down," he said. "Come on, why don't you sit down on the couch and tell me all about it." He led Noah over to the sofa and sat down next to the boy, noticing as he did the way his son's erection made a small bulge in the boy's skirt. "Now," he said, "tell me slowly what happened."
"I was coming home on the subway," said Noah, "and it was really crowded, and this man started feeling up my skirt. I tried to stop him but he was squishing me, and I couldn't move my hands. And then he put his hands on my butt and he found my plug and he pulled it out and I'm REALLY sorry Papa, I didn't want to take it out, I wouldn't have if it was me, I'm sorry-"
"It's alright," said Mr. Banks. "It wasn't your fault. Keep going. Did you lose the plug?"
"No, it got stuck in my underwear," said Noah. "He pulled out the plug and dropped it in my undies, and then he pulled out his penis and tried to fuck me through my panties, only he couldn't because of the panties."
"Didn't anyone notice?" asked Mr. Banks. Already he could feel himself growing hard as he pictured Noah's predicament.
"No, he was behind me and I was at the end of the train, so he was blocking me and no one could see me except this guy sitting on the bench with a newspaper and he was watching and jacking off. I saw him!" Noah's voice was earnest. Mr. Banks's erection twitched at the description of the watching figure. "Go on," he said.
"So he kept trying to fuck me through the panties but then he pushed really hard and my panties ripped and then he fucked me all the way because his penis went in and my panties were all ripped and they went into me too."
Mr. Banks licked his lips. "How long did this go on?"
"Until the last station," said Noah. "He made me miss my stop and then he came right before the last stop and then when he pulled out he put the plug back in, only then the newspaper man came over and he must've come behind his newspaper 'cause his hand was all covered in it and he smeared it all over my stomach and then he put his fingers in me next to the plug, and wriggled them around until the subway stopped and then he left."
"And then you got in the car going the other way and came back?" Mr. Banks presumed.
"Uh-huh," said Noah.
"And did anyone else fuck you on the way back?" asked Mr. Banks. Noah shook his head. 'A pity,' Mr. Banks thought.
"So then," said Mr. Banks, "let's see what state they left you in. Lift up your skirt."
Noah did as he was told, and Mr. Banks beheld first the straining erection, tied up in a red ribbon so that Noah could not come, so hard that it had flopped its way out of the little white panties that confined it. Then he flipped Noah onto his stomach and saw the way the buttplug pushed the torn edges of the fabric into Noah's passage. It was almost certaintly making the fabric filthy, but the underwear was unwearable at this point, and it was probably the only thing that had kept the panties around his legs in this state anyway.
Mr. Banks made a 'tsk tsk' noise with his tongue. "It looks like they made you hard," he said, his voice disapproving.
"I'm sorry!" Noah squeaked. "But he was in me, all full, and fucking me, and I couldn't help it! And then the other man's fingers were brushing me in a good spot, and it hurt but it felt good too, and you didn't let me out of the cage when you fucked me this morning, either time, and then you didn't let me get hard when you were fucking me after lunch because you were gonna tie the ribbon around and I haven't come in a long time and he was fucking me really hard, and I'm sorry!"
"You know I don't like it when you let other people make you hard," said Mr. Banks, flipping Noah back over to face him. "You should only get hard from Papa."
"But you liked it when I got hard when I was sucking the neighbor's cock," Noah protested. "Or that time your lawyer friend came over and fucked me. Or when you and the judge were doing me at the same time. Or-"
"Papa or the people Papa invites," Mr. Banks amended. "We can't have you getting hard just from being fucked by random strangers on the subway. Then you're nothing more than a common slut."
"I thought Papa liked it when I was a slut," Noah whispered.
"I like it when you're my slut. There's no help for it, I suppose. It's too bad that man on the subway let out the cum I left in you this morning, but since he was kind enough to replace it with his own, I guess we'll just have to use that as a starting point and fill you all the way up again."
Noah's eyes widened. "No, Papa, please!" he said. "I said I'm sorry!"
"I'm not mad at you for the ruined panties, or taking the plug out," said Mr. Banks. "Those weren't your fault. But you can't just go getting hard from anyone fucking you. So I'm going to fuck you a bunch tonight and tomorrow morning, until you slosh around and splash when I put it in you, and I'm going to keep the ribbon on so you can get hard, but I'm not going to let you come."
"No, Papa!" said Noah in horror. "I need to come! Please let me come Papa!"
"No," said Mr. Banks firmly. "Maybe if you're really good I'll let you come tomorrow, but not before then. Now, turn over onto your stomach and scoot back over the arm."
Noah obediently rolled onto his stomach and wriggled backwards until his ass was hanging over the arm of the couch. Mr. Banks unzipped his pants and let his now rather hard penis flop out into the air. He pictured how it must've looked, the man on the subway pushing his cock against Noah's underwear over and over until the fabric ripped and he slipped inside the boy. Mr. Banks lifted his son's skirt and withdrew the buttplug from Noah's anus, setting it on its base on the coffee table. He stared for a moment at the way the torn edges of Noah's panties disappeared into his anus, forced inside by repeated invasion. Ripped right through the fabric. Amazing.
Mr. Banks placed the head of his penis against Noah's anus and rocked forward, teasing, imagining the man on the subway fucking the cloth. The head would've gone forward like this, perhaps just the tip of it peeking inside, pushing the panties forward, and then, rrrrip! Mr. Banks shoved his cock into Noah's ass, marveling as always at how tight Noah seemed to remain. Granted, the people he shared Noah with often commented on how easily they slipped in, how surprised they were that Noah could accommodate so much in such a little ass, but they didn't have the monstrous cock that Mr. Banks did, the one that, even after all this time, required quite a bit of squeezing and thrusting to seat inside Noah. Luckily, the boy was well-lubed from his little subway adventures, and Mr. Banks slid right in with a few forceful thrusts.
He fucked his son almost nonchalantly. He loved the way Noah's face would contort as his father fucked him, trying not to let out any moan or grimace of pain lest Mr. Banks decide to punish him for it. Mr. Banks reached around the boy and took hold of Noah's erection as he slid in and out of him, bending the small penis downward and stifling his erection; even with the ribbon, Mr. Banks wasn't sure that Noah's orgasm could be stopped when the boy was this hard. Noah let out a whimper of protest, but quickly silenced himself, knowing better than to complain. Mr. Banks decided to put Noah's cage back on as soon as they were finished.
Noah's penis still in hand, Mr. Banks thrust sharply into his son. Ah, such a sweet, tight little passage! A true treasure, this boy. And so obedient. He grabbed his son's hair sharply in one hand and yanked Noah's head back slightly as his thrusts began to speed up, closing in on orgasm. It was a shame he couldn't get that sweet little mouth to suck him off tonight. But he would have to save all his cum for the boy's anus, if he wanted the proper effect of the punishment. Thrust, thrust. And the man on the bench, watching it happen! And he'd fingered the boy afterward! Hah! Mr. Banks cleaved his son, pushing all the way in as deep as he could manage—which was quite deep indeed—and spilled his seed into the boy.
He stood for a moment, catching his breath, and then yanked himself out of Noah, reaching for the buttplug on the coffee table. He spread open Noah's cheeks and slid it inside the boy. "Don't move," he ordered.
Mr. Banks moved across the room and picked up Noah's cage from where they'd left it earlier when Noah had changed to go out. He smiled and brought it back. Noah had started to get hard again in the small period since his father had pushed his erection down, so Mr. Banks was forced to do it again in order to fit the boy back into his cage. Noah whimpered slightly as the cold metal closed around him, but did not protest.
"Now," said Mr. Banks. "Dinner's ready, so let's eat. I'll fuck you again after we're done, and then we'll see, okay?"