Chapter 2: Round 2
A week later, I return to the same bar.
The same dim neon lights, the same thick air of sweat and cologne. Only this time, I'm not just offering my mouth. This time, I'm offering everything.
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I step inside, the door swinging shut behind me with a heavy thud. The bar hasn’t changed—still a den of shadows, still a place where men come to forget themselves, to lose themselves in the dark. But I’m different. I’m not just another face in the crowd tonight. I’m the one who’s here to be used.
This time I’m wearing a white jockstrap since I'll need my ass exposed. My sign this time just say "Toy".
No more words, no more explanations. Just a single word that says it all. I'm not here to talk, I'm not here to negotiate. I'm here to be used.
The jockstrap is tight, the fabric clinging to my skin like a second layer. It leaves nothing to the imagination, the white material stark against my pale skin, the straps digging into my hips just enough to remind me of what I’m here for. My cock is already half-hard, pressing against the fabric, eager for what’s to come. I can feel the cool air of the bar brushing against my exposed ass, the skin prickling with anticipation. I post up in the same corner as before with my chair and blindfold. I leave the sign on the ground this time leaned against the chair still visible. I kneel onto the chair with arched back and stick my prelubricated ass out. And finally the blindfold.
I slip it over my eyes, the world going dark. The fabric is soft but suffocating, pressing against my eyelids, blocking out everything but the sounds and sensations around me. My breath hitches as I adjust to the darkness, the sudden absence of sight making everything else more intense—the hum of the bar, the low murmur of voices, the occasional clink of glasses. My heart pounds in my chest, a steady, insistent rhythm that matches the throb of my cock.
I take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of sweat, cologne, and something darker—something primal. The air is thick with it, with the promise of what’s to come.
I can hear footsteps approaching, slow and deliberate. My body tenses, my breath catching in my throat. I don’t know who it is. I don’t care. That’s the point.
The first touch is rough, a hand gripping my hip, fingers digging into the flesh. I gasp, my body arching instinctively into the touch. The hand slides down, tracing the curve of my ass, fingers brushing against the slick entrance of my hole. A low chuckle rumbles from above me, deep and gravelly. He doesn't say anything.
What could he say? I'm just a toy for him to use, and that's exactly what I want to be. I let out a shuddering breath as his fingers began to explore me more insistently, circling my tight entrance, pressing slightly inward. I whimpered softly, my body trembling. I knew what was coming. I wanted it. I needed it.
The stranger's fingers were rough, calloused, and they felt damn good. The way he touched me made my cock throb painfully against the confines of the jockstrap. I could hear him shifting his weight, the sound of his zipper lowering, fabric rustling as he freed his cock.
The sound of his spit hitting the floor followed by a wet slap of his palm against his shaft reached my ears. He was getting ready, prepping himself for my hole. I could feel the heat of his body radiating down to me, smelling like musk and leather, sweat and something darker. His breath was hot against my ear, and then—there it was—the sloppy wet sound of him coating his cock with saliva, getting himself nice and ready to fuck me.
There were still no words from him.
None were needed. He was already lining himself up at my entrance, the blunt head of his cock pressing against my hole, already slick with spit and whatever else he had used to prepare me. My breath hitched, my fingers digging into the fabric of the chair beneath me, knuckles whitening. I could feel the heat radiating off him in waves, the weight of him pressing down against me, the threat of intrusion hanging thick in the air.
The first push was slow, agonizing. He worked himself in inch by inch, the burn and stretch of it making my toes curl inside my shoes. I bit down on my lower lip to keep from making a sound, but it was a futile effort.
A choked, desperate whimper escaped me as he pushed deeper, my body struggling to accommodate the thick intrusion. The stranger’s cock was a brutal thing—thick, veiny, and unrelenting. It stretched me open with a slow, deliberate cruelty, the burn of it making my breath come in ragged gasps. I could feel every ridge, every pulse of his cock as it forced its way inside me, my hole clenching involuntarily around him. The stranger didn’t stop, didn’t slow down—he just kept pushing, deeper and deeper, until his hips were flush against my ass, his balls pressing against my taint. A guttural groan tore from my throat as he bottomed out, the thick head of his cock grinding against that sweet, sensitive spot inside me. My cock throbbed painfully in the confines of the jockstrap, leaking precum onto the fabric.
"Fuck," I gasped, my voice raw and trembling. The word was barely out of my mouth before he pulled back, his cock dragging against my inner walls, the friction sending sparks of pleasure-pain through my body.
I could feel the slickness of my own pre-lube mixing with the spit he’d used to ease his way in, the obscene wet sounds of my hole stretching around his thick girth filling the air. He didn’t give me time to adjust—no mercy, no hesitation—just a brutal, relentless fucking that had my vision swimming behind the blindfold.
His first thrust was a punishing slam, his hips crashing into my ass with enough force to make the chair creak beneath me. The impact sent a jolt through my body, my cock twitching violently in the tight confines of the jockstrap.
I could feel the fabric straining against my erection, the damp spot of precum growing larger with each brutal thrust. The stranger didn’t slow down—he just kept pounding into me, his cock pistoning in and out of my hole with a wet, slapping rhythm that echoed off the walls of the bar. The chair creaked ominously beneath us, the legs scraping against the floor as he used me like a fucking ragdoll. I could feel his heavy balls slapping against my taint with each brutal thrust, the sound joining the obscene wet noises of our fucking filling the air.
“Take that cock, slut,” he growled, finally breaking his silence. His voice was rough with lust, the words scraping against my nerves like sandpaper. “Take every fucking inch of it like a good little fucktoy.”
I moaned pathetically, my voice muffled against the back of the chair. My body was on fire, every nerve ending screaming with pleasure-pain.