Chapter 4: A Real Cock
Mark was sore for days after the pegging. The dull ache in his bowels reminded him constantly of his shame and submission to his sister in law. To make matters worse, he and Emily had not had sex for several weeks, so he had little opportunity to regain his confidence as a man. He found himself masturbating constantly, thinking about being pegged by Sarah.
When her text came on Tuesday afternoon, it was not a request.
Be home in 30. Emily’s at her book club until 8. I’m bringing a friend. Be ready. Naked.
The air left his lungs. A friend. The word rang with sinister implication. This was a new escalation, a calculated broadening of the audience. His shame, it seemed, was not to be a private delicacy for Sarah alone. It was to be shared.
He stood in the empty, silent house, the grandfather clock in the dining room ticking away the seconds with judicial precision. He obeyed. He stripped in the living room, folding his clothes with absurd neatness on the armchair, as if order there could mitigate the chaos to come. The cool air raised goosebumps on his skin. He was just standing there, naked and waiting, when he heard the car pull up.
Two doors closed.
His heart hammered against his ribs. The key turned in the lock—Sarah had a spare—and she walked in, followed by a man. Sarah looked pleased, vibrant. The man was tall, lean, with close-cropped dark hair and an assessing, neutral expression. He glanced at Mark’s naked form without surprise, his eyes flickering with a mild, professional interest.
“Mark, this is Leo,” Sarah said, dropping her purse on the table. “Leo, this is the project I was telling you about.”
Leo gave a slight nod. “Hey.”
Mark couldn’t speak. He was a specimen on display.
Sarah walked a slow circle around him. “You remember the rules, right? You come when I say. You do what I say. Well, today’s lesson is about utility. You have a mouth. It’s good for apologizing, for lying to my sister, for eating her mediocre pot roasts. Today, we’re putting it to better use.”
She stopped in front of him, her gaze dropping to his cock, which was already betraying a half-hearted, pathetic stiffness. “See, Leo here appreciates a dedicated mouth. And I want to see you work.” She pulled out her phone, unlocked it, and opened the camera app. The red recording light blinked on. “Smile,” she said, her voice flat. “You’re starring in your own movie.”
The horror was total. The video made it eternal. It was no longer a fleeting, deniable act in a dim room. It was evidence. It was ownership in digital perpetuity.
“Leo,” Sarah said, nodding toward the worn arm of the couch. “Get comfortable. Let him serve you.”
Leo moved with a casual grace, unbuttoning his jeans as he sat. He didn’t look at Mark with malice, just a kind of detached expectation. He pushed his jeans and briefs down to his thighs. His cock, thick and already fully hard, sprung free. It was different. Real. The weight of it, the scent of clean skin and faint musk, the prominent vein running its length—it was utterly, terrifyingly masculine.
Sarah positioned herself, phone held aloft, capturing the scene. “On your knees, Mark. And look at the camera first.”
Mark looked at Sarah pleading. "Sarah, I can't do this. I'm not gay."
Sarah laughed mockingly. "Do I look like I give a fuck, Mark? If I want your opinion, I'll ask for it. In the meantime, if you don't want me to tell Emily about all our little escapades, you'll do as your told like a good little bitch."
Defeated, Mark sank to the floor, the rough carpet biting into his kneecaps. He looked up at the phone’s lens, at the small, dark eye seeing him reduced to this.
“Good,” Sarah purred from behind the device. “Now, get to work. Show Leo how grateful you are for his attention.”
Mark shuffled forward on his knees. The proximity to Leo’s cock was overwhelming. He could feel the heat radiating from it. He hesitated, his mind screaming.
“Now,” Sarah’s voice cut, sharp as a whip.
Mark leaned in, closing his eyes. He opened his mouth and took the head inside.
The taste was salt and skin. The texture was smooth, firm. Leo let out a soft sigh, settling back into the couch. “Easy,” Leo murmured, his voice low. “Use your tongue.”
Mark obeyed, tentatively licking the underside of the crown. A drop of pre-come bloomed on his tongue, a bitter, unfamiliar flavor. He flinched but didn’t pull away.
“Deeper,” Sarah commanded, her voice closer now. The phone was right beside his head. “Take it all, you coward. You’ve taken worse from me.”
The verbal jab stung. He opened his jaw wider, letting the thickness press past his lips. He pushed forward, his own gag reflex tightening as the head nudged the back of his throat. He breathed harshly through his nose, tears springing to his eyes from the strain.
“There you go,” Leo said, his hand coming down to rest, not ungently, on the back of Mark’s head. It wasn’t a forceful push, just guidance. “Just relax your throat.”
But Sarah wasn’t having patience. “Stop fucking teasing him, Leo. Fuck his face. Show him what he’s for.”
Leo’s hand pressed down, firmer. He pulled his hips back and then thrust upward, sliding his cock deeper into Mark’s mouth. Mark choked, saliva dripping down his chin. His eyes flew open, watering, blurred. He could see Sarah’s shoes, the phone hovering, capturing his watery, desperate eyes, his stretched lips around another man’s shaft.
Leo set a rhythm, not brutally fast, but relentless and deep. Each thrust buried the length in Mark’s throat, a constant, suffocating invasion. The sounds were obscene: wet, guttural gulps, Leo’s low grunts, Sarah’s quiet, excited breathing from behind the camera.
“Look at him,” Sarah narrated softly for her recording. “My brother-in-law. Such a good little cocksucker. Bet Emily has no idea how talented his mouth is.”
The degradation was a live wire in Mark’s gut, twisting with the physical violation. His own cock, which had softened, began to swell again, heavy and traitorous between his legs. He was being used as a living sex toy, filmed for posterity, and his body was responding to the sheer debasement of it.
“He’s getting hard from it, Leo,” Sarah laughed, a cruel, delighted sound. “See? A natural-born slut. Throat him. Make him taste it.”
Leo’s thrusts became sharper, more urgent. His fingers tightened in Mark’s thinning hair. “Gonna come,” he warned, his voice tight.
Sarah crouched low, angling the phone. “Swallow every drop, Mark. Or I’ll make you lick it off the floor.”
The orgasm hit. Leo held Mark’s head still, hips jerking as he pumped his release directly down Mark’s throat. The fluid was warm, bitter, copious. Mark gagged, convulsively swallowing as much as he could, some of it leaking out the corners of his mouth, slick and shameful.
Leo pulled out with a soft pop. Mark knelt, gasping, strings of saliva and semen connecting his lips to Leo’s spent cock. He panted, his face wet with tears and spit.
Sarah stopped recording. The silence that followed was broken only by Mark’s ragged breathing and the sound of Leo tucking himself back into his jeans.
“Good,” Sarah said, examining the video on her screen, a small, satisfied smile on her face. She looked at Mark, then at Leo. “See? I told you he was trainable.”
Leo stood, adjusting his clothes. He gave Mark a final, impersonal glance. “He’s alright.” He nodded to Sarah. “Call me if you need another session.”
And just like that, Leo left. The front door closed, leaving Mark naked and filthy on the floor, and Sarah standing over him, holding his complete and utter vulnerability in the palm of her hand.
She pocketed the phone. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Clean yourself up. The video is… persuasive. I think we’re going to have a lot of fun with it.” She turned and walked toward the door, leaving him there in the silence, the taste of another man lingering on his tongue, a new and terrible depth to his captivity now permanently on file.