tofi's trail

It was meant to be a nice, slow night. Alrran had had it all planned out. He was taking a break from the mess and clamour of his family home, taking the train from the village to the capital. The hostel is a small but cozy one, with small rooms holding beds, armchairs, and the hottest shower he's ever been in.

It was meant to be relaxing, a time for him to just stay curled up and read until he was tired enough, after a day of exploring the city.

Instead, he finds that the night is anything but, as he is forcefully pushed against the common room's ping-pong table. His chest is pressed into it hard, knocking the air out of his lungs, and Alrran sees stars as a result of his head slamming against the wooden surface. He hears the tearing of tape, and before he can utter a word, a broad strip covers his mouth, effectively silencing him as it’s wound into place.

Alrran’s vision darkens; he tries to pull away with strength gained from years of working at his parents’ farm, but the strangers, men he hadn't paid much attention to before, manage to hold him down as the cardboard box is fastened around his head, stealing his sight away. The sound of tape ripping is slightly dulled, slightly sharpened, as his legs are pried apart. The tape wraps around his ankles, keeping them spread by how they're secured to something, probably the legs of the table. His arms, likewise, are pulled apart, fastened and held in place. Alrran’s body is stretched wide, like he is leaping from a height and spreading wings attached to ankles and wrists.

Alrran hears a dull clang of metal, and his world, without even seeing it, is upturned. He feels the air shift, as the surface he is attached to is moved. He feels his blood rush, in ways that tells him that the table has been raised, though he doesn't know how far. He is at an angle, though, and it feels unpleasant.

And then there is the feeling of hands sliding over his sweatpants, hands grasping his ass and squeezing. Alrran winces at the tightness of the grip, and he tenses as he hears muffled voices though the carton over his head. "He really does have a nice ass," one voice says. Another asks, "Think it's tight?" There is laughter. Alrran squeezes his eyes shut, as though it will keep the voices from being heard. "He's tense enough that it's gotta be," he still hears. The hands on his ass kneads them, and he squeals in surprise and pain as a hand smacks it. The laughter is loud, catching in his mind.

A slip of coldness presses against his skin, just near the base of his tail, and Alrran doesn't initially understand what it is. Not until he hears the tearing of fabric, and feels the touch of air against bare skin. A knife. That is what the coldness is. It tears through his clothes, cutting his trousers off his body entirely. His tail lashes, catches against something and he feels a hand grasp it, hears the tearing of tape and his tail is bent forward, forced against the table surface and taped to it. It’s drawn tight, pulling at the skin at the base. The last of his sweatpants falls away, revealing his muscular lower body. They leave his sweater alone, at least, not that it makes any difference as Alrran’s face burns hot with humiliation and fear. The knife drags a burning cold line against Alrran’s skin as it slides along his tense thigh.

The flat of the small blade is pressed against Allran’s cock, and in shock, Alrran twitches, then holds his breath and stills his every muscle. There is that laughter again, coming from the men. The flat of the knife slides along his ballsack, the back of it is pressed between his testes, and Alrran shivers as he is filled with fear that they'll cut him.The blade is tapped against his balls a few times, then removed. He feels relief as hands takes the knife's place. The hands, squeezing his balls, are smooth city-dweller hands, and they are large, much larger than Alrran’s own. His ballsack is pulled backward, up toward his arse. Another hand grip his cock, where it freely dangles over the table's edge. He can't even hear what the voices are saying any more, only the times that they laugh. The hand gripping his cock strokes it, and it's a humiliating reflex that makes it throb, hardening just slightly. It's been a long time since somebody else has touched him there.

A hand is placed on one of his ass cheeks, and it's pulled to the side with a thumb dipping down. He feels air on his asshole, before something thick and wet slides across it. A tongue, he realises as he groans; the muscle tries to pry inside of him, fighting against Alrrans tense ass muscles and losing. The tongue retreats.

There is the distant murmur of voices, always overpowered by the laughter. One person lines up behind him, bending down over Alrrans ass to bury their face between his cheeks. The tongue - or at least a tongue - is back, sliding against his thick ring of muscles. It slides, coaxes, pries, a slow but steady insistent touch, that has Alrran’s body twitching in response and his teeth pressed together around groan after groan. He's had people touch his cock in the past, but nobody has ever gone down on his ass before, and despite himself, Alrran finds himself enjoying it. His body, tense as a violin string still, pulls at the tape binding him, shivering at the restraint not to cry out. He doesn't want to cry out, he doesn't want to moan.

Alrran crumbles when a mouth closes around his cock.

The first muffled groan that actively turns into a long, pleasured moan passes his lips as the mouth sucks hard, and the tongue at his ass finds space to press inside fully. He feels heat burst within him, rising, as another moan, pouring from deep in his chest, escapes him.

And that's when it ends. The mouths pulls away, there is the sound of that laughter, and Alrran lays limp against the table, panting and shivering. The heat in his body stays, simmering, like a yearning. He aches with the need to orgasm, but the mouths doesn't return.

Instead, he feels the table shift in angle, lowering somewhat, though not enough for his toes to touch the ground. He feels something rounded press against his ass, and Alrran doesn't even have time to react, nor does his body, as a warm wetness starts to breach him.

The cock is hard, pushed inside bit by slow bit. They didn't prepare Alrrans body enough, only to the degree that the cock head can find its opening to start to spear him open. It pushes deeper with a rocking of hips, hands grasping Alrran’s muscular thighs. The heat from before, the need for orgasm, instantly disappears with the burning from the cock penetrating him forcefully. The man pushing inside of him grunts, the sound the first clear one in the midst of the laughter echoing in Alrran’s mind. Words, for the first time in a while makes way through the joyful, cruel sounds. "He’s tight alright," the voice says, and Alrran wishes he hadn't heard it so clearly.

The man rocks in, pulls out a little, rocks inside some more, repeating the motion until Alrran can feel the man’s hips flush against his rear. The man stays still for a while, a deep, pleased sigh all too loud to Alrran. And then he starts to pull out again, until Alrran is almost completely empty; he thrusts back inside, sharply, forcefully. Alrran feels something burst inside of him, and the heat wishing for orgasm returns together with the burst of pain, as the man pulls slowly back out again, and roughly slams back inside. That's the pace that the man sets, a slow drag followed by something almost like an internal gut punch. It draws something out of Alrran, sets his body to lightly shiver with each thrust.

The man’s panting is unnecessarily loud in Alrran’s ears, as the man starts leaning over him, his belly pressing against Alrran’s lower back. Alrran struggles, as the pounding gets rougher and he feels what he knows is the man’s balls slap his skin; when suddenly, the man stills, groans with a nearly guttural sound, and though he's never felt it before, Alrran can tell how the man empties himself inside of his ass. It's in the heat that suddenly blooms where the cock reaches the deepest, and it's in the way the man spasms a little on top of him. Alrran whimpers, as he feels the fluid slide inside of him, even deeper than he thought was possible. He really thought the man reached as deep as Alrran’s insides went, but he had been wrong.

The man stays on top of him for a long while, for ages in Alrran’s mind, as he lets his balls empty out inside of Alrran’s ass. The man shivers, groans, and eventually pulls off and out of Alrran. He wipes his cock on Alrran’s ass, and then steps away. Alrran shouldn't be relieved, he knows, but for a brief moment, his body still responds by relaxing in response to it finally being over. It lasts for just a few instances.

Another pair of hands are placed on Alrran’s skin, this time on his ass. The person behind him strokes Alrran’s cheeks, spreads them apart and pries his hole open with their thumbs. Alrran feels something trickle along his skin, starting at his asshole and trailing down in the crack, and first he thinks it's cum that's leaked out, but gravity wouldn't let that happen. Alrran feels lips on his skin, pressing against his asshole, and it's the same tongue as before, he believes. But it's not just tongue this time, it's teeth as well, biting into his skin and pulling at his ring of muscles until they burn painfully. Alrran lets out a pained groan in protest; the pulling and the bites sting his skin, made sensitive by the pervious mans pounding. There is more of that laughter, and a voice that says, in the most cruel tone thus far, "Oh, honey, my buddy was nice

One, Then Three