Eli's Night at the Hostel Pt. 03

Eli woke slowly, stretching under the soft weight of the duvet, the morning sun already casting golden strips across the floor. His body felt lighter than the night before -- freshly showered, skin smooth, still carrying the faint scent of the soap. But beneath that surface calm, every inch of him remembered.

He'd gone to sleep clean, but not untouched. Not even close.

His throat was a little sore. His hips ached faintly from being held down and pounded, again and again. His ass still felt the dull, blissful echo of being stretched open -- used and filled. Even now, alone in his bed, he could almost feel them -- fingers on his neck, voices in his ears, praising him as he trembled, spent and smiling.

Last night hadn't been a dream. He'd given himself to the men, obedient and open. They had taken their time with him. They had made a show of him. They had made him theirs.

Eli ran a hand over his chest, bare and warm beneath the sheet. His cock stirred lazily, not fully hard -- more like curious. Anticipating.

He rolled over toward the nightstand. A folded tank top sat there waiting for him, laid out just before he'd fallen asleep, along with soft, almost indecently short athletic shorts and something small and gleaming beside them.

A plug.

And a note:

"Breakfast in ten. Shorts. Plug. Tank. Be proud to be ours."

-- M

He bit his lip, nerves dancing under his skin. But beneath them was something stronger -- the thrill of being wanted, molded, seen.

Eli sat up, reached for the tank top, and pulled it over his head. The cotton clung to his frame like it was made for him, the single word across his chest in bold white letters: OBEDIENT.

He looked at himself in the mirror. And smiled.

Eli stood slowly, his heart beating a little faster now, pulse fluttering in his neck. The room was quiet, but the moment felt charged -- like the silence just before something wicked and wonderful.

He took the plug in hand and knew what he had to do.

It wasn't large -- just enough to keep him aware, to stretch him gently, a constant reminder of where he belonged. Of who he belonged to.

He bent over slightly, resting one hand on the bed, and eased it in with practiced care. The stretch made him gasp softly, even after last night. It slid in smoothly, the base pressing flush against his hole. He clenched around it, then relaxed. Already he could feel the subtle weight of it, every shift of his hips tugging at his insides.

Then the shorts.

They were soft and nearly sheer in the sunlight -- pale grey, low-slung, and scandalously short. When he tugged them up over his thighs, they barely covered anything. His cheeks peeked out at the bottom, and the fabric clung tight over the base of the plug, the outline betraying everything.

He checked himself in the mirror one more time. His nipples were slightly visible through the fabric. His face flushed just from the sight.

He stepped out into the hallway and headed down the stairs, every step sending a small pulse through his core. The plug shifted inside him with each motion, his breath catching every few seconds. The hostel was already stirring -- footsteps on the floorboards, voices echoing faintly down the corridor.

And then he stepped into the breakfast area. It was a modest spread -- coffee, fruit, some pastries -- but Eli barely noticed. He felt heat crawl up his neck the moment he entered. There were at least a dozen people already eating, mostly men, some of them clearly the same ones who had been there last night.

One of them -- the tattooed man who had cum down Eli's throat while laughing with a friend -- looked up from his coffee and smirked. Another, wearing sunglasses indoors, gave him a low whistle and murmured something under his breath.

Eli didn't dare look away. He walked slowly toward the table where the Daddies sat: Marcus, Ben and Jordan, all dressed casually, coffee mugs in hand, relaxed like any group of older friends enjoying a morning together.

Except they were watching him like he was prey.

Marcus raised an eyebrow in approval, setting down his mug. You're on time," he said softly. "And dressed correctly."

Eli nodded, lips parted slightly. "Yes, Sir."

"Good boy."

He stepped closer to the table, and Marcus leaned back in his chair casually, letting one arm drape low -- then not-so-subtly reached behind Eli and gave his ass a firm squeeze. His fingers found the plug's base instantly through the shorts, pressing in just enough to make Eli gasp and tremble.

Marcus smirked. "In place."

Eli nodded again, cheeks bright pink now. He could feel the other men's gazes on him -- some curious, some knowing.

Jordan patted the seat beside him. "Sit and eat, pup. You'll need your energy for later."

Eli sat slowly, carefully, trying not to let the pressure of the plug show on his face.

But the heat between his legs, the weight in his gut, and the ache of being stared at so openly -- that was impossible to hide.

Eli sat with his thighs pressed tightly together, doing his best to sip orange juice without letting the plug distract him too visibly. The three Daddies sat across and beside him, watching with calm amusement as he tried not to squirm.

He could still feel the eyes of other guests on him -- some subtle, some not. One man kept glancing at Eli's tank top every few seconds, probably reading the word OBEDIENT over and over again. Another, further back, openly licked his spoon while staring at Eli's legs.

But it was Marcus who finally spoke, voice low but firm. "You did well last night," he said, setting down his mug. "You gave yourself to us completely. That's not something we take lightly."

Ben nodded, his expression softer but no less intense. "But there's a difference between being used and being trained."

Eli's breath hitched. He swallowed, looking from one Daddy to the next.

Jordan leaned in slightly, his eyes gleaming. "Today is about obedience. Not just when you're being fucked, but in public. In small, humiliating ways. In moments that make you blush and ache and beg to be owned."

Eli shivered.

Marcus reached into his pocket and slid his phone across the table toward Eli. "Let's start with something simple."

On the screen was a note:

"Go to the lobby toilet. Lock the door. Strip completely. Take a full-body picture -- cock, hole, face. Then come back here and show it to us. Don't get caught."

Eli stared at the screen, lips parting.

Jordan gave a quiet chuckle and added, "Think of it as a warm-up. We want to see if you can obey without question. And if you fail -- well... we'll just have to punish you in public, won't we?"

Eli stood slowly, trembling, and nodded.

"Yes, Sirs."

The hostel lobby was still quiet when Eli padded down the stairs, phone tucked in his hand, nerves buzzing under his skin. He passed a couple of guests lounging on the couches, one of them looking up just long enough to scan his outfit and smirk knowingly.

The men's restroom was just off the hallway, near the check-in desk. Eli pushed the door open and peeked inside. Empty.

He slipped in and locked the door in the stall behind him, heart hammering now. The stall was clean and bright, with a large mirror over the sink and just enough space to get what the Daddies had asked for.

He took a deep breath, then pulled the tank top over his head. The fabric left his skin tingling. The shorts followed, along with the tight jock beneath -- leaving him completely naked except for the plug still snug between his cheeks.

Eli stepped in front of the mirror, holding up the phone. He posed the way he knew they liked -- legs apart, shoulders back, cock soft but exposed, face flushed with shame and arousal. He looked helpless. Owned.

He snapped the photo.

Then one more, just for good measure -- this one with two fingers pulling his hole open just a bit, the plug's slick base on full display.

He stared at the photos for a moment, horrified and hardening.

Then he got dressed again, shaky hands fumbling with the waistband of the shorts, and made his way back up the stairs -- to show his Daddies what kind of good boy he could be.

Eli handed the phone over with trembling fingers, barely breathing as Marcus, Ben, and Jordan swiped through the photos in silence. The moment stretched, his heart pounding louder with every passing second.

Marcus smiled first. "Brazen."

Ben let out a low chuckle. "Filthy."

Jordan's eyes didn't leave the screen. "Perfect."

Eli swallowed hard, his cock already twitching from the praise.

Jordan glanced at the clock on the wall, then back to Eli. "Ready for your next task, pup?"

"Yes, Sir," Eli whispered, his voice cracking just slightly.

Marcus leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "You're going back to the same restroom. This time, you wait."

"Wait for what?" Eli asked, even though some part of him already knew.

Ben answered calmly, voice low and commanding. "You'll stand at the sink. When a man enters alone -- not a couple, not a group -- you'll follow him to the urinal. And you'll ask him if he needs help relieving some pressure."

Eli's breath caught.

"If he says yes," Jordan added, "you drop to your knees and make him come. Mouth only. Throat it all, swallow it down. We'll be nearby. Watching the door. Making sure you're safe -- but not stopping you."

Eli felt the plug shift as his thighs tensed. The thrill of it -- the danger, the humiliation, the lack of choice -- made his cock throb behind his tight shorts.

"I'll do it," he whispered.

Ben stood and kissed his forehead. "Good boy. Go now. Before the lunch crowd gets too heavy."

The walk back to the restroom felt heavier this time -- slower, like each step peeled away another layer of hesitation. The lobby was a little busier now. A few new arrivals were checking in, dragging suitcases across the tile floor. No one paid him much attention... at least not openly.

Eli slipped inside the restroom again. He stood at the sink, pretending to check his hair in the mirror, blood roaring in his ears.

He waited.

One minute. Then two.

Footsteps outside. The door opened.

A man entered -- early thirties, fit, with salt-and-pepper stubble and a lazy confidence in the way he moved. He nodded at Eli as he passed, heading straight for the urinal at the end of the row.

Eli's heart skipped.

He glanced at the mirror once more, whispered "Good boy" under his breath... then followed.

The man unzipped his fly and had just started to piss when Eli stepped up behind him, voice low and almost shy.

"Would you like some help... relieving pressure, Sir?"

The man froze -- then looked over his shoulder. His eyes dropped immediately to the word across Eli's tank top, then lower, to the way his shorts clung to his thighs. He finished pissing.

The man stood silent for what for Eli felt like minutes before he replied. "Yeah. Yeah, I would."

Eli smiled for himself as he had hoped to get this reply before dropping to his knees.

He reached up, tugged the man's cock fully out -- thick, already hardening. He didn't tease. Didn't hesitate. He opened his mouth and took him in deep, choking softly around the girth, spit pooling fast as he bobbed his head, working with practiced rhythm.

The man let out a low groan and leaned one hand on the wall.

"Fuck," he whispered. "Didn't know service came with the hostel."

Outside the door, Eli heard footsteps. One of the Daddies, probably Marcus, standing guard.

The man's breathing quickened. His cock pulsed, getting close. Eli hollowed his cheeks, pushed deeper, nose brushing the stranger's groin. The sound of him gagging echoed in the quiet room, obscene and eager.

"Swallow it," the man hissed, hips jerking.

He came hard -- hot and fast -- and Eli didn't spill a drop.

When it was over, the man zipped up, smirked down at him, and said, "Thanks, sweetheart," before walking out like nothing had happened.

Eli stayed on his knees a second longer, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, heart pounding.

He'd done it.

He stood up, adjusted his shorts, and stepped out into the hall where Marcus waited.

Marcus didn't say a word.

Just smiled, proud and possessive, and ran a hand through Eli's hair as they headed back up to the others.

Back in their room, the air was cooler, quieter -- but still buzzing with tension. Eli stood between the three men, flushed with the aftermath of what he'd just done. His throat still tasted of the stranger's cum, but it was pride that glowed deepest in his chest.

Marcus was the first to speak.

"You did well," he said. "You didn't hesitate. You asked, obeyed, took it all. That's exactly the kind of behavior we reward."

Ben stepped closer, running a warm hand down Eli's side. "You've earned a little relief before your next task."

Jordan nodded. "Take out the plug, pup. Stretching time is over -- for now."

Eli's shoulders loosened with quiet gratitude. He stepped into the bathroom, took a few moments, and emerged without it, walking a little easier -- but still carrying the delicious soreness that lingered from the night before.

Jordan tossed him a pair of slightly more modest shorts -- still snug, still flattering -- and a soft white tee. "Put these on. We're going out for drinks."

Eli looked at him, surprised. "Out? Like... a restaurant?"

Ben grinned. "Oh yes. A busy patio. Tables, waitstaff, sunshine. And you -- serving us."

Eli's lips parted, the anticipation prickling back into his skin like static. "What do you mean by... serving?"

Marcus stepped close, kissed his cheek, and whispered against his ear: "You'll find out when we sit down."

The walk to the café was short, but every step felt like a performance. Eli walked between Marcus and Ben, with Jordan just behind him, casually guiding him with the occasional touch to his lower back. His outfit was tame by their usual standards -- snug black shorts and a soft white tee -- but the humiliation simmered just beneath the surface.

He was freshly used. Recently plugged. And very aware that his body still ached in all the right places.

The patio was crowded with late-morning drinkers -- mostly men, a few couples, the soft clinking of glasses and low conversations humming beneath the bright sun. The Daddies picked a corner table, shaded by a large umbrella, with enough room to stretch out. Eli sat with them at first, sipping water, keeping his hands on his thighs, eyes lowered when anyone looked too long.

But then Marcus leaned in.

"It's time," he said simply.

Eli looked at him, heart thudding. "Here?"

Ben smiled lazily. "You know the rules. We don't give you tasks to negotiate. Only to obey."

Jordan added, "Slide under the table. Quiet hands. Mouth ready."

Eli swallowed and nodded. He stood slowly, took one last sip from his glass, and knelt between the chairs, ducking under the tablecloth and disappearing beneath the wooden frame. It was dim under there -- cozy, almost -- but the open sides meant any angle could expose a glimpse of him if someone walked too close.

Ben was first.

He spread his legs wider, unzipped slowly, and let his cock hang free -- semi-hard already. Eli needed no prompting. He leaned in, lips parting, and took the tip into his mouth, warm and eager. Ben let out a soft grunt above, casually lifting his drink.

"Lovely weather today," he said to the others, voice perfectly calm as Eli's tongue slid along his shaft.

Marcus chuckled. "It really is. Bit warm in the sun."

Jordan gave a low hum. "But our boy's doing well. Don't make him gag yet, Ben. Let him savor it."

Eli moaned quietly around the cock in his mouth, fingers resting on Ben's thighs, his body pressed low between their chairs. The occasional breeze lifted the tablecloth just enough to make him panic -- then thrill -- at the possibility of being seen.

Marcus unzipped next, brushing Eli's cheek with the head of his cock. "Share, pup," he said softly.

Eli turned his head slowly, licked the crown, and then sucked Marcus in -- the other man's taste different, heavier. He alternated between them, careful, obedient, feeling both cocks swell slowly in his mouth. Occasionally, one of them would gently grip his hair and hold him down a second longer than was comfortable, drawing soft choking sounds from under the table.

Then Jordan joined in, though he didn't unzip.

Instead, he reached under the table and grabbed Eli's hair hard, tugging him into a brief kiss -- rough and wet, tasting of beer and control.

"Keep going, but don't let either of them finish," he murmured against Eli's mouth. "You'll get your reward later."

Eli nodded, eyes wide, throat sore, and went back to work.

Above him, the conversation stayed casual, almost boring -- three men discussing food, weather, politics -- while beneath the table, their boy worshipped them one by one, desperate to please, terrified of being seen, and more aroused than he'd ever been in his life.

When they finally zipped up, hard but unsatisfied, Marcus reached under the table one last time and gently patted Eli's cheek.

"Good service," he murmured. "Now wipe your mouth and stand tall. One more task today. And it'll be your reward."

They didn't speak as they left the café -- not about what had just happened beneath the table, or what was coming next. Eli walked in silence between them, still tasting their cocks on his tongue, his cheeks warm with both humiliation and pride. The sun was high, the hostel just a short walk away. But every step felt like a countdown.

Back in the room, the air shifted.

Ben locked the door. Jordan drew the curtains. Marcus pulled the blanket off the bed, leaving the sheets exposed and smooth.

"Strip," Marcus said, calm and final.

Eli obeyed.

He peeled off the shirt first, then the shorts -- no underwear this time. He stood naked before them, flushed and already half hard.

Marcus turned to face him.

"This is your final task today," he said. "It's simple."

Marcus stepped close, his voice low and steady.

"You're going to surrender. Fully. No hesitation. No control. You give yourself to us -- every hole, every inch, every sound that leaves your mouth. You stop thinking. You stop choosing. You exist only for us."

Eli's lips parted. His knees went weak.

"Yes, Sir," he whispered, and nodded once.

Marcus nodded back. "Good boy."

Jordan blindfolded him gently. The moment the world went dark, Eli's cock twitched. He was guided to the bed, bent over the edge, chest pressed flat to the sheets. His ass was exposed, vulnerable, the soreness from earlier only making him more eager.

Then he felt fingers stroke along his lips.

Marcus.

"Open up," he said.

Eli obeyed, and Marcus fed him his cock, slow and deliberate. The head slid past his lips, deeper, until Eli gagged slightly -- then adjusted. Marcus groaned softly and began to fuck his mouth in a slow, building rhythm.

Jordan joined them moments later, pressing in from the side.

"Share us," Marcus murmured.

They took turns, not rushing -- Marcus fucking his throat with deep, smooth thrusts, then pulling out to let Jordan slap his cock across Eli's tongue, making him open wider, choke a little, swallow every drop of spit. The blindfold made every movement more intense. Every touch. Every command.

Then Marcus moved behind him.

Ben's hands were already spreading Eli's ass, thumbs opening him.

Marcus leaned down over Eli's back, his breath hot against his ear.

"You want to be filled again, don't you?" he whispered. "You want to feel us both stretch this little hole until it's raw and leaking?"

Eli whimpered and nodded.

Marcus pressed the head of his cock to Eli's hole -- already loose, trembling -- and pushed in slowly, agonizingly deep. Eli groaned, his whole body tightening around the stretch.

Then came Ben.

Thicker. Hotter. Merciless.

Ben aligned behind Marcus and began to push inside beside him -- not fast, but firm. The double penetration felt impossible for a moment, and Eli cried out -- the blindfold slipping slightly as his body tensed from the overwhelming stretch.

Marcus held him still, whispering: "Breathe. Take it. Take your Daddies."

And Eli did.

They began to move together, one pulling out as the other pushed in, then slowly syncing their rhythm -- slamming forward at the same time, burying both cocks deep into Eli's body.

He screamed into the pillow, shaking, split wide open, drool running from his lips, but he didn't stop them.

He gave himself up, just like Marcus had asked.

Every thrust forced air from his lungs. Every slap of skin sent his cock twitching untouched. And every filthy word -- "Stretch that hole." "He's dripping already." "Such a perfect fucktoy." -- only pushed him deeper into subspace.

Then Jordan stepped up to the front again.

"Open that mouth one more time, boy."

Eli obeyed.

Jordan shoved in and fucked his mouth hard, no gentleness now, cock slamming deep past his throat while the other two continued using him from behind. He was nothing but holes now -- wet, raw, obedient.

The climax came fast.

Ben groaned loud and shoved in deep, holding still as he filled Eli's hole with cum, hot and thick.

Marcus didn't stop -- he kept pounding him harder until Eli was shaking -- then pulled out and stroked once, twice, before spraying thick, heavy ropes across Eli's hole and Ben's cock still buried inside.

Jordan pulled out of Eli's mouth and came next -- his load landing across Eli's tongue, cheeks, nose, dripping into the sheets as Eli gasped for breath.

For a moment, the room was nothing but breathing. Heavy. Sated.

The blindfold slipped from Eli's eyes.

His face was soaked, his ass leaking cum from two Daddies, his throat raw and chest rising fast -- and yet he looked radiant.

Used. Owned. But glowing.

Ben kissed his shoulder gently.

Jordan wiped his mouth with a warm towel.

Marcus climbed into bed beside him, stroking his hair.

"No one's ever taken it like that," he whispered. "You were everything we wanted."

Eli smiled faintly, body wrecked and heart full.

"I'm yours," he whispered.

And they didn't need him to say it again -- because by now, they knew.

(Any suggestions for part 4?)