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?
