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The breaking of Gojo Satoru comes bit by agonising bit.
In the dark, curled up in the too small dog cage with a pounding in every hole, Satoru tries to cling to his sanity. He can't move - can't manoeuvre his fingers to drag the fake cock out of his mouth or to escape the curse that's filling his ass with something that's too big to be a dick - and so he closes his eyes and leans his head against the cool bars of the crate.
He has been here three days. Three days after Miguel somehow won their fight and settled a collar around his throat; three days since his cursed energy was entirely muted and he'd been unable to fight back; three days since Suguru - since Getou - dragged him naked before his cult with a victorious gleam in his eye.
Three days since his kids died, since he saw Maki and Toge's heads on spears, and saw Rika now under Suguru - under Getou's - control.
"The new world is just beginning," Suguru - Getou - had whispered in Satoru's ear, hand wrapped so tightly in Satoru's hair that his nails scraped his scalp. "Aren't you excited?"
Satoru was not excited. Satoru was angry and miserable and, on some baser level, mortified at how easily Suguru - Getou - could push him around without cursed energy to give him that boost.
He thinks it's been three days at least. He's been counting by how often Suguru - Getou - comes in to pat his hair and coo at him, before leaving him back in the dark. With the collar on, he can't access the Six Eyes and so he can't say for sure; neither can he see beyond the all-encompassing dark of the cupboard where Suguru's - Getou's - been keeping him.
The curse inside him releases some of it's vile seed that stuffs Satoru just a bit fuller. After three unrelenting days of this, he doesn't know how it keeps finding space and yet it does, in his guts and in his womb, both of them stretched and bullied beyond their capacity.
It plugs his ass up and moves back to his cunt, slipping it's slick wet thing inside with far more ease than it had at first. Satoru isn't completely sure his cunt will ever recover.
But it's fine. He's the strongest. As soon as Suguru - Getou - lets him out-
He moans around the dildo in his mouth as the curse hits the sweet spot inside him. It's too much, really, but that doesn't stop the fraying nerve centres in his brain firing at the stimulation. It's so good, so so good, he wants-
He drags himself back together. He does not want more. He wants to get out of here and he wants to tear this damn collar from his neck and blast Suguru - Getou, his name is Getou - from the face of the planet. He will decimate the entire cult and-
It hits the spot again and desperately, Satoru clenches around the thing inside him. It's big, but he's got used to accommodating big things and if he wants to get off-
But he doesn't want to get off. He wants to get out. Out, he reminds himself firmly even as he sucks on the fake cock in his mouth in a desperate search for further stimulation. Out.
++
He doesn't get out. What he gets is more and more of the bottom of the cupboard and the curse that never lets out. What he gets is a blur of Getou coming and going as he pats Satoru on the head and coos at him. What he gets-
It tips from overstimulation to real, horrific pain sometime around the five day mark (probably, maybe - he's really not sure how long it's been, if he's honest) and then he loses count of how long he's been here in between heaving sobs and sucking on the dildo for comfort as the curse doesn't stop pounding into him.
He passes out often but when he wakes, it's to that same, persistent sensation until eventually he's almost used to it. His cunt is raw and his asshole is swollen, and both of them drip that rancid substance that the curse secretes, but soon he's so fucked out that he can barely think straight.
His whole world becomes this; the mesh wire of the cage pressed against his skin, the wet plastic of the dildo in his mouth and the curse that's stubbornly pounding into him.
Just him and the curse he thinks, a little delirious. Really, it's just his holes and the curse, because there's not much else about him; the crate is too small for him to move around in and so he hasn't really felt his arms or legs or anything since being stuffed in here.
He suckles on the cock in his mouth, just for something to do.
And then, there is light. He can't move his head to look but he knows it's Getou from the little indulgent click of his tongue that he gives.
"Ah, look at how my messy little boy is doing," he says and Satoru feels his nails scratch against his scalp, like one might scratch a dog. "Hmm, I think we're done with this for now though."
The curse, quite suddenly, is gone. One minute, it's filling both of Satoru's holes and the next it's vanished, leaving them gaping and empty and dripping with curse cum.
Satoru whimpers in spite himself. He thought he wanted it gone but the sudden lack of stimulation is worse than he thought it would be. He clenches around nothing and shifts back, trying to find stimulation-
Wait, no. He wanted it gone because he needs to escape. He needs-
The sudden clarity escapes him as Getou hooks a finger in his collar and drags him from the cage. His bare skin drags against sharp edges and his limbs tingle from the first movement in...days? He thinks it's days.
He blinks, the light after so much dark difficult on his eyes, but before he can take much else in of the room - a bed, tatami like he feels beneath his knees, Getou's terrible smile - something's being wrapped around his eyes.
Darkness again, this time with the familiar warmth of a blindfold. But there's no Six Eyes to accommodate for his blindness and Satoru is suddenly without any context for anything that's happening to him.
He reaches up with clumsy, numb fingers to scrape the blindfold from his face, to pluck the dildo from his mouth, to fight Getou but is forced to put them down again as Getou's fingers find their way into his hair and he starts pulling. Satoru has to scramble to keep up, burning his hands and knees on the tatami as he half crawls, half get dragged to wherever Getou is taking him.
He's out of breath by the time they arrive and too confused to do more than whine as his ankles and wrists are tied together and he hears the familiar clink of chains as he's tied to a loop on the ground.
Someone drags his hips up until he's straining against the position he's in to stay there, and then something pokes at his back entrance. When the hands pull away, he tries to sink down, into a more relaxed position, but finds himself pierced by a dildo instead that's so uncomfortable, it forces his hips back up until he's struggling again.
His knees are then dragged apart something put between them that anchors them to the floor as surely as his ankles. He already feels the ache developing as the blindfold is removed and he finds himself staring into the mystified faces of at least two hundred people.
All of them are looking between his legs, where curse goop still drips from his gaping cunt, now proudly on display for everyone to look at.
"The strongest sorcerer of the modern age," Getou says, mockery dripping from his tongue. Satoru turns his head to look at him and he's sneering at him, as he struggles to stay upright. "Now, a common whore. Look at how his cunt drips, marvel at how loose he is; I'm sure by the end of the evening, he'll even be fucking himself on that dildo."
Murmurs of appreciation ripple over the hall.
"And look at that chest; it's so, terribly flat. For a boy like him, he should have perky little tits that we can all admire, don't you all agree?"
Again, murmurs of agreement. Getou clearly doesn't give a fuck what any of them think as he stalks over to where he's tied Satoru down and drags from the shadows too wormlike curses that swim through the air to latch onto his nipples.
The bite stings at first but the hiss Satoru lets out a moment later is when they start sucking, his sensitivity skyrocketed from...being fucked for a long time. He's not sure how long. He was kidding himself when he thought he knew. He was-
He gasps again, gurgling on saliva around the fake cock in his mouth, as his concentration slips and he falls down on the dildo until it's pierced him uncomfortably again. It's wide and thick and the angle that he's at - curved over backwards - isn't ideal for how it's been stuck beneath him.
He forces his hips back up even as his shoulders and knees scream in protest, and lets his head hand backwards as Getou starts asking for observations from the crowd.
"I didn't know a...a cunt could be that wet!" a brave cult member says and Getou hums in agreement.
"Woah! It's like a jet wash!" someone exclaims after Satoru falls down on the dildo when the curses on his chest sync up their sucking, and he cums so hard he feels liquid dripping onto the stage beneath him.
"It makes the most delicious noises," a woman's voice says as Getou runs a finger between the planes of Satoru's chest towards his navel, so featherlight that it makes him moan and clench and his eyes roll back into his head.
And it keeps going, degrading word after degrading word until Satoru really is just an it. They call him it and they call him toy and he's nothing more than how wet his cunt is and how pretty he looks torturing himself on the dildo in front of them.
"Can...can we touch?" someone else asks and the room goes still. Satoru feels it go still, like everyone knows that cultist made a dumb mistake.
"Of course you can't," Getou says, pleasantly, as the cultist is swallowed by one of his curses. "Any other dumb questions?"
No-one says anything. The room is so still you could hear a pin drop. One of the curses bites down on his nipple and Satoru is momentarily lost as he moans and writhes on the dildo, the sensation enough to drag him from fear to lust again.
"Perhaps I should claim him for you all, to show you just how much he belongs to me."
Through watering eyes, Satoru watches Getou take his rock hard dick from his robes and start to stroke; it only takes a few before he's cumming, his cum landing in a splattered line up Gojo's chest and onto his chin.
"There, now no-one can argue it."
Then, the blindfold is put back on and something is slipped over Satoru's ears so all that is left is the dildo up his ass and the growing comfort of the one in his mouth as everything else starts to become too much.
++
Satoru honestly doesn't know how long he's left there.
Sometimes, he feels his skin painted in more cum - Getou's, undoubtedly - and he must look a sight, sweaty and covered in cum as he still struggles not to sink too far on that torturous dildo. And the curses on his chest just don't stop.
It's all too much, really, but the fake cock in his mouth is enough of a comfort that he clings to it, suckling as hard as he can whenever he has the concentration.
He'll get through this. He'll...survive long enough to...to...
He can't remember. He knows that he's supposed to remember but his brain is so addled that it's rather flown away. It's alright though because he's got the plastic dildo in his mouth so-
So-
Another splatter of cum comes out of nowhere and he jerks, surprised, and sobs as it causes him to fall hard on the dildo. It's too much. It's too much. It's-
The dildo vanishes and the chains are removed. Satoru collapses, entirely boneless, when he realises that doing so won't completely torment him, and he feels the damp stage beneath. It's sticky with sweat and slick and come but the relief is so palpable that Satoru doesn't care. He's been released.
After a moment - though he doesn't know why - he tries to push himself up, but his muscles are so shaky and weak that he only gets half way before flopping down again.
He's only given a moment to recover before there's a hand in his hair again, pulling. He scrambles upright and tries to keep up, even as he shakes and feels terribly light-headed. If the person dragging him isn't careful, he's going to vomit around the dildo in his mouth.
The curses are still clinging to his chest, sharp little teeth digging into his nipples even as they suck. His gallumphing crawl in the wake of...whoever's dragging him jostles them around until this chest aches and he's once again sucking on the dildo in his mouth, the one thing that's happening to him that's not torture.
It's actually quite nice, the comforting weight in his mouth. Perhaps it's a bit pathetic but he clings to it as best he can.
They stop somewhere else. There's a breeze coming from somewhere and there are cold tiles beneath his knees, and so he thinks he might be outside as someone drags his arms up above his head and ties them there with a thick, rough rope.
He's just trying to work out whether it's truly outside or just in a room with an open window, when the curses are plucked from his nipples and he feels something else probing against them. Gentle, at first, whatever it is pokes and prods before-
He gasps, saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth. A sharp pinch in his nipples tells him that something's gone into them.
He's confused for all of half a second before the pressure begins. He can feel his chest growing, pecs expanding into actual tits. They feel like balloons, getting slowly bigger and bigger and hanging from him with an uncomfortable weight.
Another sensation starts as well. Something slimy starts sliding up his legs and Satoru can feel suckercups pressing into his skin, undoubtedly leaving marks.
It curls up his right calf and then his thigh, and just as it begins to poke at his dripping wet entrance, another starts coming down his left arm until the tip is settled in the hollow of his armpit, which it gently caresses.
Another up his other leg, to probe at his loose asshole; another down the other arm to caress his cheek and play a little with the dildo in his mouth; yet another to play with his oversensitive tits, brushing over tight skin expanded beyond it's capacity.
For a long time, they stay like that. As if waiting for a signal.
Satoru stays tense, waiting for something else to happen, and it's only as he's beginning to relax and believe that this - whatever this is - is the extent of Getou's torture today, the tentacle at his mouth grips the base of the fake cock in his mouth and drags it clear.
Before Satoru can really process this and mourn it's loss, everything starts moving. The tentacles at his ass and cunt both push in, much bigger than their tips might have suggested and both uncomfortably ridged with their suckercups.
The one in his cunt hunts for his cervix and he can feel it expanding once it has, getting impossibly larger and larger. The one in his ass doesn't stop at any point, forcing itself fully into his intestines until he can feel it making it's slow, torturous way through his insides. He can barely focus on that as another tentacle, so much smaller than the others that he hadn't noticed it, slips inside his peeslit and down his urethra until he's trying to wet himself but finding no space to do so.
Then come the eggs. If he thought the pressure in his new tits was bad - and that, too, had got worse the minute the dildo had been pulled from between his teeth - then it is nothing to when, on some invisible cue, eggs start pushing inside him.
They might not be eggs but Satoru has seen enough deranged porn to know it's most likely. That's the last really cognisant thought he has as all three tentacles inside him start to bulge.
He is being stretched beyond comprehension. He feels his eyes fluttering, on the edge of consciousness, as the largest points of all of them try to bully their ways inside at the same time.
And then they're in, sliding easily after the initial resistance. The one in his intestines travels furthest and Satoru can feel it being carried the length of the tentacle around his insides until it settles somewhere deep. The need to piss himself too becomes almost unbearable.
Then it happens again and again. Satoru finds himself trying to suck on the dildo for comfort but it's not there so he just ends up biting his tongue as incomprehensible noises (not that he was capable of hearing them) fell from his lips.
He gets fuller and fuller and fuller. He can feel the eggs piling up inside him, the little ones in his bladder and the larger ones in his gut and womb. A little deliriously, he wonders what Getou is
trying to hatch while using the heat of Satoru's body but such a pondering is entirely beyond Satoru's current predicament.
At last, just as he thinks he might actually burst, something is slipped past his slack lips and everything vanishes.
The things in his tits don't go but even they stop pumping as the eggs, the tentacles and all the pressure just stops. Satoru feels hot piss run down his legs and he sucks on the dildo in blind relief.
It was over.
He slumps in his bonds, barely noticing the sensation of his new tits bouncing around gaily. He can rest, he can-
But then he feels it. The slip-slide of a tentacle gently beginning to creep up his foot to start it all again.
++
It's not just sucking the dildo that brings relief, Satoru finds, mad with desperation. Sometimes the tentacles poke at his mouth and if he sucks on them, if he lavishes them with his tongue and lets them poke the back of his mouth and fuck his throat and choke him, then the other tentacles won't come back.
Of course, the tentacles in his mouth never stay long and once they're gone, the others start creeping back until he's being stuffed so full he can barely think and finds himself sobbing.
Eventually, he stops being given the dildo back. That's alright because the tentacles like his mouth enough that he still gets relief, but he finds himself missing that one comfort he had in the dark of the cupboard and in torment of that stage, in front of hundreds of cultists.
At some point (though he realises he's not actually sure when) his wrists were released from the ropes holding them up. Maybe he didn't notice because of the tentacles always keeping him upright, but he becomes aware when all the tentacles vanish and he drops down to the paving tiles beneath him.
Relief is his first thought, but then panic takes over. There's nothing at all in his mouth.
As he has that thought, he feels the tentacle creeping up his ankle and tries desperately to crawl away. There's no strength in his arms however and he collapsed forward, squishing his new breasts in such a way that he momentarily loses the ability to do anything. Maybe he just passes out.
Either way, he comes to with the tentacles pressing at his swollen, abused entrances and starts crying. Big, heaving sobs that make him feel like a child again but he can't stop.
He's tired and he hurts and he can barely remember his own name, yet alone why he was here and why this was happening to him.
His thumb finds his way to his mouth as the tentacles pierce him and it slips past his lips as he chokes on a cry.
Then, they just stop.
They don't leave or vanish but they do stop. What did he do? He suckles on his thumb as he thinks, dipping it further into his mouth until his tongue is lavishing it as it had the dick that had been stuffed there so long, and that is when it dawns on him.
He slips a finger in his mouth as well and then another, and feels the tentacles slowly retreat. Soon he is drooling over his own hand as it's the first thing that brings him any sort of real relief in this place.
And he's content like this, curled up on his side on the rough stone with his fingers slowly getting wrinkled on his own tongue. He could go to sleep like this, he thinks, since he's so tired and he's finally free of overstimulating torment.
Then, a hand, caressing his cheek. Then, fingers pushing back whatever it is covering his ears and a low, melodic voice saying, "not yet Satoru," with a little hint of a smile.
He haltingly drags himself up to his hands and knees, at the voice's gentle urging, but can't bring himself to take the hand out of his mouth. Instead, he stumbles along on both knees and just one hand, but then voice does not make him speed up and lets him set the pace with lots of good boys and head pats.
And Satoru is tired and he is pleased that something is being kind to him. He dreads to think what's on the other end of this walk but a little bit of him hopes that the voice is as gentle there as he is here.
He gets a smack on the ass which stings in spite of how light it is and then the blindfold is being dragged off as well as the voice encourages him to kneel.
"Good boy," the voice says finally and ruffles Satoru's hair as he drops back on his heels.
He finds a moment later that the voice belongs to a man who seems dreadfully familiar to him, though he can't quite pinpoint it. He's got long hair and he's dressed in robes that he lets fall to the side as he sits, to reveal a long, thick cock with ladder piercings all up it's erect underside.
It's bigger than the dildo Satoru has had in him so long but it looks even more delicious, and he feels himself drooling even more than he already is around his fingers.
"You are a good boy," the man says and leans back into the soft seat he's on. "I know you want this in you now, am I right?"
Satoru nods. He really does. He thinks there's nothing so good to keep those tentacles away than that dick there.
"Touch it, with that wet hand you've got all prepared for me."
A little tentatively, Satoru does, though he swaps it out for his other hand almost at once. Best not to take any chances.
So he reaches out, reverent already, and a little shiver sings down his spine at the groan the man lets out as he wraps his hand around the base of the dick. He feels it harden even more as he runs his hand up, fingers brushing over each of the piercings in turn.
In the last few...days? Weeks? Satoru has been fucked with more things than he can consider and now he is empty; but facing this dick, this perfect cock, he's hit with a desire more strong than any so far to not be empty anymore.
The emptiness hurts.
He shuffles a little closer and gets a firmer grip on the dick, until he's almost licking it. He's good and doesn't take it in his mouth as he so desperately wants, but he's close enough that what little breath gets around his hand tickles against the man's sensitive skin.
"The other hand too now," he says, his voice gone a little rough, and Satoru - though he fears the tentacles coming back - does as the man says. A little bit of him knows that they won't come back now, not with this man here, and that comforts him.
Both hands make it easier to grip. It was almost too big for just one but now he can play with it more readily, one hand fondling the man's balls as the other rubs the shaft, until-
"Still."
Satoru stills at once, one hand wrapped halfway up and the other settled at the base.
Above him, the man looks down at him with hooded eyes. There's something other than lust in them - a deep self-satisfaction - but Satoru pays it no heed as he looks up adoringly, at this man who brings him his first drop of pleasure in so long, waiting for his next order.
"Beg," the man tells him. "And if you do it sweetly enough, I shall let you suck."
So Satoru begs: he leans as close as he dares and he says please, please and he tells him that he'll do anything for the slightest taste and he begs to be used and abused and his throat fucked raw and cum pumped down it into his stomach.
"And who is it you beg to?" the man asks, breathing heavily.
"You," Satoru replies, a little confused. "You. My...my master?"
He says it as a question though it feels right. A master commands his servants and servants do as their master tells them, so that would be a good framing for their relationship. But his name...
"But my name?" the man - Satoru's master - prompts, almost impatiently, and Satoru is suddenly struck by the reality that he may never get to taste this most delectable looking dick if he doesn't quickly remember.
For a moment, it looks like he won't, but then-
"Getou," he breathes, then quickly corrects himself. "Getou-sama. Please, please Getou-sama, let me have a taste. Let me suck your dick for you, let me be your fucktoy, let me-"
"Very well," Getou-sama says indulgently. "You may eat, my hungry little cockslut."
Satoru dives upon it, like a gull dives for fish in water. He gets nearly halfway before his throat complains but he tries to relax and shove as much as he can in.
Above him, Getou-sama laughs, but Satoru thinks there's nothing funny about this. This dick is warm and heavy in a way the old fake cock wasn't, and it's solid in a way his fingers could never compete with, and it smells...divine. He wants his nose pressed against the pubes and to have it consume him entirely.
So, he perseveres. He pushes on and on, counting each piercing as it passes his lips until he's finally, finally nestled right there.
If he died right now, he'd be happy, stuffed full of this cock.
But he doesn't die; something even better happens. Getou-sama starts to move. At first, it's just little jerks of his hips but then it becomes something more intense, until he's fucking Satoru's throat with proper thrusts and all Satoru can do is take it.
Getou-sama's hands tugging at his hair, his cock bruising the back of his throat, his overwhelming power keeping those terrible, terrible tentacles away...
The cum is salty on his tongue but he swallows as much as he can, even as some slips from the seal his lips have formed around the dick and dribbles on his chin. He mourns their loss but not too heavily, for Getou-sama is still pressing him close even as his dick softens.
Getou-sama's breathing is heavy for a long moment and Satoru can feel his heartbeat through his dick, but he eventually rasps out, "stay like that. Don't...don't move."
So Satoru does.
++
He doesn't know how long he kneels there, the tatami digging into his bare knees, but at some point he drifts off on a cloud of happy nothing and thinks he could sit here forever. All good things must end eventually though and soon he's being tugged off, just as Getou-sama's dick starts hardening again.
Regretfully, Satoru sits back, half-expecting Getou-sama to pull his robes back in place and put the blindfold back on Satoru. Instead, he's surprised as Getou-sama undresses more, until he reveals a muscled torso and thick thighs and is entirely nude.
Oh, he is a god, there can be no other explanation, Satoru think in awe. And this god has deigned to let him provide him pleasure.
"Come now Satoru," Getou-sama says, patting one of those powerful thighs. "I think you have more than deserved this. I should claim you now, properly."
"Claim me, Getou-sama?" Satoru asks, around the rasp in his voice, because he really is in disbelief.
"You managed to make me cum so I think it would be well-deserved. I should like my own pet whore. Now come here, straddle me, yes like that."
Satoru rises on legs that barely want to hold him, but he does it for Getou-sama, for his master. His master should never debase himself so far as to have to help something as puny as Satoru.
He struggles, then, to put his legs over Getou-sama's but when he has, he's rewarded by Getou-sama dragging him down until he can feel each piercing pass his battered, bruised walls and feel the tip of the cock press against his cervix. He's bounced a few times until he feels the weakened cervix break and Getou-sama's cock makes it all the way inside.
They settle like that for a moment, him filling Satoru's deepest places, before he starts fucking in earnest again.
His hands on Satoru's hips lift him up and down, up and down. Satoru's head spins through it all, the pounding down below and the way his tits rub against Getou-sama's muscles chest. His mouth feels empty so he leans forward to mouth at his skin, to lave his neck with attention, and when his arms find nothing to do, something ropey appears and ties them both tight behind his back.
He cums twice before Getou-sama does, shaking through each as it lights up nerves that have been numbed by however long of being overused, and he's sobbing even as he sucks at the join of Getou-sama's neck and shoulder.
"Good boy," Getou-sama rasps, pressing Satoru's head into the salt-sweat of his skin as he somehow manages to angle a thrust deeper still than any so far. Satoru feels the warmth of his cum and it's sweeter than anything else that has so far filled him.
He sighs, happy, a little exhalation against his god's skin.
"Don't fall asleep on me now, Satoru," Getou-sama says, amused, as he lifts his hips to rub against Satoru's clit. "We still have one hole left to go, my sweet little slut. You wouldn't want to go half-claimed now, would you?"
Satoru shoots his head up, tiredness mostly fleeing. "No, no - Getou-sama, please don't leave, please claim me, please have me, please-"
"Shh." He places a finger over Satoru's lips, effectively silencing him. "It's alright Satoru. I wouldn't do that, not to such a good, well-behaved boy."
His other hand has snaked round, kneading at his ass, pinching the round flesh and dancing near his asshole. Satoru is sure it must be gaping from how much it's been fucked and sure enough, he feels Getou-sama easily slip three fingers in to play around.
"So loose," he comments idly. "Like a street whore, or a bitch in heat. Like a worn out fucktoy; that's what you are, aren't you Satoru? Tell me what you are."
"A worn out fucktoy," he mumbles and then looks up through his eyelashes at his master. "Your worn out fucktoy Getou-sama."
Getou-sama chuckles. "You do know how to please me Satoru," he says and one hand sneaks around to pinch his clit until he's sobbing and spasming through another painful orgasm.
But his spasming has somehow left Getou-sama hard again and with strength that could only come from such thickly muscled arms, Getou-sama lifts him up and flips him around like a rag doll in his lap.
His dick sinks so easily into Satoru's ass as he pulls him down but Satoru barely notices as he stares.
In front of them is a mirror. It's large, tall and wide, and in it, Satoru can see all of himself.
His face is blotchy and red from ugly crying, and there are crease lines from where the blindfold dug into the skin. The collar around his neck is dark against pale skin and glows faintly in the low lamp light. His shoulders are pulled taut by the rope tying his arms behind his back. He's covered in old cum, which has dried sticky against his skin, and the breasts-
They're huge and perky, almost fake looking but too soft for it to be plastic surgery. The nipples are hard against the air and they jiggle as Suguru shifts behind him, getting comfortable as he pulls Satoru down, his ass flush with Suguru's groin.
Suguru.
Suguru.
It is Suguru behind him, Satoru realises uncomfortably, as a little bit of his sanity returns to him. Suguru, who has been tormenting him for days. His Suguru who killed his students and-
His hand fights against his bindings, for he wants to shove his thumb into his mouth for comfort, and as he realises that, he finally admits defeat.
"There you are," Suguru - Getou-sama - whispers in his ear, his fingers digging harder into the flesh of his hips. "My little toy, my dirty whore, my Satoru."
He bounces him once in his lap and Satoru watches in horrified amazement as his body moves. His tits jiggle painfully on his chest and he watches them, his head on his neck rolls weakly to one side with the movement, his cunt between his legs dribbles Suguru's - Getou-sama's - cum.
"All mine. I broke you down-" A pause as Suguru - Getou-sama - bites into his shoulder, sucking hard until pain burns there. "I've marked you with my cum-" Another hickey, a little further up. "I've claimed you as my own." He bites down again. "I'll do whatever the fuck I want with you now." He bites, then, just beneath Satoru's ear and Satoru can see in the mirror as the marks he's already left blossom red. "Who do you belong to?"
"You, Getou-sama," Satoru says, very quietly. He doesn't want to say it, but despair has taken a hold of his heart and he knows - deep down - that the only way out is through. Which means playing along. Which means seeking the pleasure-pain that is sure to follow.
"That's right. Me." Suguru - Getou-sama - leans to the other side of him, to start marking him there as well. His nails dig into his hips even harder. "I should have it tattooed onto your skin," he says, one hand sliding down to caress the inside of his thigh, almost brushing over his weeping pussy. "Property of Getou Suguru. You'd like that, wouldn't you Satoru?"
"Yes, Getou-sama."
Suguru - Getou-sama, he is Satoru's master now - fucks suddenly up into him and Satoru whimpers, everything jiggling about. He watches through watering eyes as Suguru hooks a finger inside him and drags his pussy lips apart, letting the cum dribble freely out.
"Look at that Satoru, look how much of me you took." The hand not inside him, not scraping cum from his sensitive walls has crept up to play with Satoru's perky tits; the fingers roll a nipple between them, massage the oversensitive flesh, until Satoru is watching his pussy spasm around the finger, cum spurting out of him as his muscles involuntarily push it out.
"Beautiful," Getou-sama whispers in his ear and wipes his hand on Satoru's stomach. "Just stunning."
Then he fucks him properly, hands returning to their proper places, and Satoru is forced to watch as his body is manhandled up and down until he's begging. There are no words to his begging and a bit of him tries to convince himself he's begging Getou-sama to stop; but the other part of him is too intelligent than that.
He wants to be filled. He wants Getou-sama to fill the last part of him not touched by his cum, not animalistically claimed and mounted. He wants to drip with it, out of raw, loose holes and be nothing more than his fucktoy.
He's already nothing more than his fucktoy. Already he can feel that brief lucidity passing as he sees the satisfaction in his master's face and the pleasure at being the cause leaves him breathless.
"Who do you belong to?" Getou-sama asks again, as he buries himself deep and cums once more, and Satoru lets his head fall back in defeat as he cries; "Getou-sama! I belong to Getou-sama!"