I Belong To My Three Forbidden Masters

Chapter 41: Chapter 41

Lysander’s pov

"So you found me," His fingers knotted tightly into my hair as I knelt trembling on the cold stone.

My lungs burned as I gasped for air, the bitter, metallic taste of multiple men lingering heavily on my tongue and coating the back of my throat.

"I... I won," I choked out, tears of sheer exhaustion blurring my vision. "I found you before the ten minutes were up."

"You did," he drawled smoothly, his voice chillingly calm as he looked around at the shadowy figures lingering around us in the gloom.

"Which means I won’t send that video to your mother or Darius today. But winning my little game doesn’t mean you’re done entertaining my guests, Lysander."

A cold wave of absolute dread crashed over my chest, drowning out the brief flicker of relief I’d felt seconds ago. "W-What? You promised—"

"I promised I wouldn’t ruin your mother’s life today," Gideon interrupted coldly, his grip tightening in my strands until my scalp felt like it was tearing.

"I never said you were allowed to stop pleasing the men who are keeping your filthy secret. You think a few swallows are enough to buy absolute silence from eight men?"

Before I could plead, Gideon shoved my head down with brutal force, forcing me onto all fours like an animal on the gritty floorboards.

My raw knees scraped against the cold stone surface, my entire frame trembling uncontrollably as the musky scent of raw, lingering sex filled my nostrils.

"Position yourself," Gideon commanded, his heavy boot pressing firmly onto the small of my back, forcing my chest flat against the floor while my hips remained raised.

"Since you love being on your knees so much, you’re going to act as a human footrest while my friends relax and enjoy themselves."

A collective, dark chuckle echoed through the dim, claustrophobic room as two of the men stepped forward without hesitation.

One of them casually rested his heavy, booted foot right on my left shoulder blade, using my trembling, naked body to support his weight while he unzipped his pants again.

The sheer humiliation of being used as literal furniture crushed whatever pride I had left into dust.

"Look at him," another guy jeered from above, tapping his thick, semi-erect shaft against my burning, tear-streaked cheek.

"The tycoon’s sweet, golden stepson, spread out on a filthy holding cell floor like a common bench for everyone to use."

Hot tears streamed down my face, soaking into the dust beneath my cheek as shame ate through my soul like pure, concentrated acid.

"Open up, footrest," the man standing over my head ordered, nudging my swollen lips with the broad, wet tip of his cock.

I parted my lips on pure reflex, choking back a sob as he slid his length past my teeth, using my mouth casually while he chatted with the others about campus sports.

He wasn’t even trying to get himself off with speed, he was using my throat like a convenient, living sleeve, completely stripping away every last shred of my humanity.

"He really is soft inside," the guy resting his heavy boot on my shoulder remarked, shifting his body weight until my shoulder blade groaned under the pressure.

"No wonder he was moaning like a shameless whore in that video clip. His body was literally built to take whatever a real man gives him."

My hands clenched into tight fists against the cold floor, my fingernails digging into the stone until the skin beneath them cracked and bled.

I hated them with every fiber of my being. I hated every single man standing in this dark room, watching me, using me, treating me like worthless trash.

Most of all, I hated Gideon, who stood over us all like a puppet master, drinking in my destruction with a sick, triumphant smirk.

"Work it better, whore," the man in my mouth grunted, his fingers reaching down to cup my jaw firmly, forcing his rhythm deep into my throat until my eyes watered.

I gagged around his shaft, my body reacting involuntarily to the continuous friction as my nerves fired, forcing my hole to leak slick onto my inner thighs.

"Jesus, look at him," someone in the back whistled softly, pointing down at my shaking lower half. "His ass is practically begging for another round. Look how wet he is."

"Don’t touch his hole," Gideon barked. "His ass belongs strictly to me. If any of you so much as lay a finger on his hole, I’ll break your fucking hands."

A subtle shift of fear passed through the room, even these ruthless men knew better than to cross Gideon when he claimed absolute ownership over something.

"Understood, man," the guy using my mouth mumbled, his thrusts picking up speed as he neared his second climax of the hour.

He gripped my blonde hair tightly, burying his full length into my throat until I couldn’t draw a breath, his hot release shooting straight down my esophagus.

I coughed violently as he pulled out, saliva, pre-cum, and heavy mess dripping from my swollen, aching lips onto the dark stone floor.

"Good little footrest," he chuckled, patting my flushed, sticky cheek with his soft shaft before stepping back into the shadows.

Before I could even catch my breath or wipe my face, another pair of heavy boots stepped directly into my limited field of vision.

Gideon stepped closer, his heavy leather shoe pressing down hard onto my lower back, forcing my hips up even higher into the air.

"You see this, Lysander?" He whispered, leaning down so his lips were inches from my ear, his voice dripping with venomous satisfaction.

"This is what you truly are when you aren’t hiding behind your mother, my father’s money, or your stupid art supplies. You’re just a filthy, submissive little toy."

I closed my eyes tightly, sobbing silently into the cold floor as the next man stepped up to use my throat, completely resigned to the ongoing nightmare.

I let them use my body as an object, my mind detaching from my physical self as I endured minute after minute of relentless degradation.

My jaw felt unhinged, my throat raw and burning from swallowing mess after mess, but I kept my body still just as Gideon had commanded.

Every time a man finished, another took his place, using my face, my mouth, and my shoulders as their personal playground while Gideon watched with dark pride.

By the time the last man stepped back, zipping his pants with a satisfied sigh, I was lying completely flat on the stone, trembling from head to toe in a pool of my own tears and their mess.

My knees were bruised black and blue, my skin was painted in sticky white streaks, and my mind was entirely shattered.

"Alright, boys," Gideon called out, his voice echoing through the quiet cell. "You’ve had your fun. Get out before campus security decides to do another walk-through."

The men shuffled out of the room quietly, their heavy footsteps fading down the hallway until the heavy metal door clicked shut, leaving only Gideon and me in the dim room.

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