Broken In Ch. 02

Everyone in Broken In Chapter 2 is 18 or older, consenting, and more than capable of handling what's coming. This story contains unapologetic male bisexuality, rough sex, dominance, and raw chemistry. If that makes you squirm--in a bad way--now's your chance to back out and pretend you never saw this.

Gay Sex, Rough Sex, Anal Sex, Bisexual Male, Dominance, Spitting, MMF

This Is How We Use You

Dag lay in a haze of sweat and spit and stretched nerves. His body pulsed with aftershocks. His hole ached--wet, leaking, ruined. But he didn't move. Didn't speak. Just breathed in slow, ragged gulps with his head in Liv's lap, legs still trembling from where they'd been held wide and wrecked.

Nils didn't coddle. Didn't soothe.

He stood at the foot of the bed, drying his cock with a towel like it was nothing more than the end of a long shift. He tossed the towel aside and stared down at Dag's flushed, shaking body.

"Up."

Dag blinked. "Sir--?"

"On your knees. Face down. Ass up."

The tone didn't change. Calm. Flat. Final.

Dag moved.

Every motion hurt--sweet, sharp reminders of what he'd just taken. His knees hit the bed. Arms shaking. Ass high, hole twitching and open, dripping with cum. He didn't dare clench.

Liv kissed his temple. "Good boy," she whispered. "He's just getting started with you."

Nils came up behind him. Silent. Efficient.

Dag flinched at the sound of the drawer opening. Metal. Leather. Buckles.

"Your hole's wide enough now," Nils muttered. "Time to see if your mouth can match it."

Dag shivered. "Yes, sir."

A collar snapped around his neck--thick leather, padded, tight but not choking.

Then the leash.

He didn't hear it click--but he felt it.

A tug. Just enough to remind him he wasn't in charge of anything anymore.

"Crawl," Nils said.

Dag obeyed. Off the bed. Onto the floor.

The rug scraped his knees.

Nils sat down in the wide armchair by the dresser. Legs apart. Cock still glistening, half-hard. Not done.

He gave a light tug on the leash.

Dag crawled forward, breath shallow.

"Open."

Dag opened his mouth. Nils didn't move. He just waited, eyes locked on his.

And then he spit.

Hot. Wet. Right down Dag's throat.

"Good."

He stroked his cock twice. Then pointed it toward Dag's lips.

"No teeth. No mercy."

Dag leaned in.

He wrapped his lips around the head, still coated in lube and cum. The taste was obscene. Deep. Raw. He sucked. Shallow at first. Nils didn't move.

"Deeper."

Dag took more. Then gagged.

"Again."

The training began.

It wasn't porn. It wasn't fantasy. It was control. Precision. Brutality wrapped in patience.

Nils didn't fuck his throat--he trained it.

He pushed. Pulled back. Held Dag's head. Corrected his jaw.

Made him breathe through his nose. Made him keep his tongue flat.

Slapped his cheek once--lightly--when he started to panic.

"You'll learn," he muttered. "You begged to serve. This is how we use you."

Dag drooled around the cock in his mouth, eyes leaking, throat spasming.

He tried to pull back once.

The leash snapped tight.

"Don't."

Liv knelt beside them now, watching. One hand in Dag's hair, stroking, coaxing.

"Relax, baby. Let him in. Let your throat open."

Dag whimpered--but did.

Bit by bit, inch by inch, he took it.

Nils groaned--just once. A low, satisfied sound.

Then he gripped both sides of Dag's head. Held him steady.

And pushed all the way in.

Dag choked. Gagged. Eyes wide. Snot and spit running down his face.

"Stay," Nils growled.

Dag held.

Held.

Held.

Then Nils pulled out slowly--dragging every inch over his tongue, his throat, his lips--before slapping his face lightly again.

"Not bad," he said.

Dag collapsed forward, forehead to the floor, gasping.

Liv stroked his back. Kissed the top of his head. "You're doing so good, sweet boy."

Nils leaned back in the chair. Still hard. Still not done.

"I'm calling Erik tomorrow," he said casually. "Let him see what you can take."

"Ooh, you're in for a real treat," Liv said, her voice thick with excitement. "Erik. Fuck yes."

The Crybaby

Dag lay trembling on the floor, cheek pressed to tile, lips swollen, the thick leather collar tight around his neck. The leash dragged beside him like a thread of belonging. His limbs were wrecked, nerves shredded, hole pulsing from earlier use.

Nils hadn't softened.

He stepped forward, slow and certain, cock still hard, his expression unreadable.

He looked to Liv. Then to the boy.

"Now..." he said, voice flat, "you'll eat my wife's pussy. And I'll fuck you while you're doing it."

Dag blinked. His eyes were glassy. His lips parted, but no words came.

Liv turned without a word and sat in the wide armchair. She spread her legs with elegant authority, her pussy flushed and wet, glistening from nothing but anticipation.

"Come here, baby," she said, voice soft, dangerous.

Dag crawled.

The leash slid across the floor behind him. His hands shook, but he didn't hesitate. He placed himself on all fours between Liv's thighs, lowered his head, and waited--face inches from her cunt, trembling from the scent alone.

She stroked his hair.

"Kiss it. Lick. Slow."

Dag obeyed.

His lips touched her folds, reverent and gentle. Then his tongue--slow, obedient strokes, tasting sweat, heat, and raw female power. His hands stayed flat on the tile, body low, shoulders submissively dropped as he focused everything on pleasing her.

Behind him, Nils moved.

He didn't kneel.

He sank low into a deep squat--bulldog position, knees spread wide, thick thighs flexed, calves grounded like stone pillars. His body was all coil and control, his silhouette broad and dominant.

He aligned himself behind the boy, took one breath--

And then shoved in deep.

No warm-up. No mercy.

A single brutal thrust.

Dag screamed into Liv's cunt, the sound muffled by her wetness, his whole body jerking forward.

Nils didn't pause. He fucked from the legs--driving with his thighs, ass low, spine locked, every movement tight and relentless. Each pump snapped Dag's hips forward, forcing him to grind against Liv's pussy harder with every stroke just to stay on his elbows.

Liv gasped, grabbing fistfuls of his hair.

"That's it. Don't stop, baby."

Dag began to sob quietly.

Nils growled low, hands gripping the backs of Dag's thighs.

"Are you done crying like a little bitch?"

Dag choked, licking blindly.

"No sir--yes sir--I--I'm trying--"

"Then lick her. Nice and slow."

Dag's tongue moved again, shaky, broken, but present.

Nils slammed deeper.

"Keep your pace steady. Lick. No matter how hard I fuck you."

Liv moaned, legs trembling.

"He's crying," she said, voice tender. "It's okay, baby. You can cry. Wipe your tears with my pussy."

Dag whimpered. His lips stayed glued to her, face soaked, tongue moving in desperate rhythm.

Nils fucked deeper, harder, his quads bulging, knees bent deep, body working like a machine built for fucking--merciless, trained, in control.

"You didn't say you were a crybaby in your letter," he grunted, driving in again. "Tell me if it's too much for you. Just say stop if you can't take it anymore. Do you want me to stop?"

"O' fur, o' fffno, fuf we fur," Dag sobbed into Liv's fluffy cunt.

Translation: "No Sir, no fuck no. Fuck me Sir."

"Good call," Nils chuckled dryly. "I'll keep at it then."

Nils kept at it. Harder. Firmer. Brutal.

He felt a familiar burn in his glutes and quads as his savage thrusts gained more momentum--measured, merciless, mechanical. Each slam knocked air from Dag's lungs, drove his face deeper into Liv's cunt, his tongue now barely flicking, more reflex than effort.

Dag's shoulders shook. His knees slid against the slick tile. He couldn't move, couldn't speak. The only sound was the wet clap of hips on flesh, Liv's breath catching above him, and Nils's low grunt every time his cock bottomed out.

Liv's back arched.

Her hands pulled Dag tighter, locked him into place.

Then--

She came.

Her thighs clenched.

She gasped once--then squirted into his mouth, sudden, sharp, hot. Dag choked, tongue still working as her juices flooded his tongue and chin.

"This is how we finish a day," Nils said calmly, voice steady as stone. "Used, soaked, crying, and bred."

He gave one final thrust--violent, deep, full weight behind it--and held.

Dag spasmed.

Liv moaned, legs twitching around his face again.

Nils stayed there for a moment, cock buried inside the trembling boy, both hands gripping his hips with surgical precision.

Then--he slowly pulled out. The sound was obscene. A slick stretch. A pop. A gasp.

Dag collapsed, drool and cum mixing under him, body twitching with overstimulation, breath catching like sobs.

No one spoke.

The room was thick with sex and silence.