FORBIDDEN SERIES—TAKING MARIUS'S COCK 4

Spit dripped down my chin, mixing with tears, my own dick throbbing painfully between my legs, untouched and leaking like a faucet. Marius's hand gripped my hair tighter, holding me pinned, his knot-like swell twitching on my tongue, hot and salty.

Panic surged through me, fists clenching so hard around the chains that the metal bit into my palms, drawing pinpricks of blood. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat echoing in my ears over the faint static of the phone speaker. Jace's voice crackled through—casual, oblivious.

"Cool, put him on. Tell him I scored tickets to that game next week."

Marius's gray eyes locked on mine, dark with amusement and command. He didn't pull out. Instead, he thrust shallowly, just enough to make me gag softly—gluck—his thumb stroking the stretched corner of my lips like a reward. "Go on, boy," he murmured low, voice steady as steel. "Say hi to your best friend."

I whimpered around his cock, the vibration making him groan quietly. No way. I shook my head fractionally, eyes pleading. But Marius's grip tightened, pulling me deeper until my nose pressed against his pubes, the musky scent of him overwhelming. "Now."

He eased back just enough for me to breathe, cock still filling my mouth like a gag. I swallowed hard, throat working around him, and rasped out, "H-hey… Jace." My voice was wrecked, hoarse, muffled, spit bubbling at the edges. Fists clenched harder, nails digging crescents into my skin to ground the terror.

"Dude! You sound like shit. Are you getting sick or something? Is Dad's food too spicy?" Jace laughed, the sound tinny and innocent.

Marius smirked, thrusting lazily again, making my eyes water. "Y-yeah," I choked out. "Something like that."

"Cool, well, hit me up later. Gotta run."

Click. The line went dead.

Relief flooded me, but it twisted into heat as Marius tossed the phone aside.

"Good boy," he growled, both hands now fisting my hair. He fucked my face with renewed fury—deep, relentless strokes that slammed the head of his cock against the back of my throat. Gluck-gluck-gluck filled the room, wet and obscene, spit pouring down my chin onto my chest.

I sucked harder, hollowing my cheeks, tongue swirling the underside of his veined length, tasting every salty inch. My jaw ached, throat burning, but the intensity—the passion—made my cock leak steadily, balls drawing up tight.

Just as his hips stuttered, cock swelling impossibly thicker, he yanked out with a wet pop. Hot ropes of cum spurted across my face, thick, sticky drops landing on my cheeks, lips, chin. I moaned, low and desperate, the warmth streaking my skin like a brand. Marius slapped his still-hard cock against my face—thwack—smearing the mess, turning my cheeks red and stinging.

"How many times you jerked off to this, boy?" he demanded, voice rough, slapping again—thwack—right across my open mouth. "Thinking about my cock stretching your pretty little hole?"

"Countless—ahh—times," I moaned ecstatically, hips bucking into nothing, fists twisting in the cuffs until the chains rattled. Thwack. My face burned, skin flushed hot under the assault. "Every night… fucked my hole with carrots, pens—anything—imagining you pounding me raw."

That triggered him. His eyes darkened to storm clouds, a low growl rumbling from his chest. He leaned down, capturing my mouth in a deep, filthy kiss—tongue plunging in, tasting his own cum on me, lips bruising mine. "You look so pretty beneath me like this," he mumbled against my mouth, nipping my lower lip. "We're gonna have so many more lessons, boy. You ready for that?"

"Yes, Daddy," I breathed, the word slipping out unbidden, heat flooding my veins.

Daddy. It hit him like lightning. His cock jumped against my thigh, and he plunged back into my mouth without warning—deeper than before, hips snapping forward.

I took it all, throat relaxing as best I could, sucking with everything I had. My tongue flattened under him, lips stretched tight around the base, hollowing my cheeks on every pull-back.

I bobbed eagerly, meeting his thrusts, the wet slurps echoing louder—gluck-gluck-gluck—as I milked him, swirling around the head on each retreat, tasting the fresh pre-cum beading there. My fists clenched rhythmically in the cuffs, matching his pace, the metal warming under my grip.

Marius came with a roar, flooding my mouth in thick pulses. I swallowed greedily, throat working, not spilling a drop. He pulled out slowly, then leaned down again, kissing me deeply—slow, possessive, our tongues tangling in the salty aftermath.

Without a word, he uncuffed my wrists, flipped me onto my chest like a ragdoll. My cock slapped against my stomach and the bedsheet, red and aching. Marius pressed between my ass, his still-hard length, impossibly ready, nudging my asshole.

He didn't enter. Just teased—rubbing the slick head in slow circles around the rim, dipping in barely an inch before pulling back. The friction was torture, my hole clenching emptily, pre-cum pooling on my abs.

"Please," I begged, voice breaking, fists bunching the sheets until my knuckles whitened. "Daddy—fuck me. I need it."

That word again. Marius's eyes flashed, and he thrust in—rough, one brutal snap of his hips burying every thick inch to the hilt. The stretch burned like fire, fullness overwhelming, his balls slapping my ass with a wet smack. I cried out, arching off the bed, the intensity ripping through me like nothing I'd ever felt—hot, raw, consuming.

He didn't hold back. Pounded me hard and fast, hips slamming forward in a punishing rhythm—slap-slap-slap—each thrust grinding deep against my prostate, sparks exploding behind my eyes.

I bit into the bedsheets, teeth sinking into cotton, muffling my screams as pleasure coiled tight in my gut. I felt Marius grabbed the belt from the table, doubled it over, and cracked it across my ass—sharp, stinging heat blooming with every fuck. Thwack. My skin turned red, sore, the pain blending with ecstasy until I sobbed.

"Take it, boy," he growled, spanking again—thwack—while he railed me. "Daddy's gonna make this hole sore for days."

I came first. Untouched, cock pulsing ropes on my stomach and probably the bedsheets too, body shaking. But he didn't stop.

Thrust harder, deeper, belt landing in rhythm until my ass burned like fire, hole clenching greedily around him through another orgasm that drained me dry. My fists twisted the sheets harder, fabric tearing slightly under my nails, every nerve alight.

Finally, Marius buried deep with a groan, flooding me hot and thick. He flipped me onto my back and collapsed over me, both panting, his cock buried still in me, and we kissed—passionate, slow, tongues lazy now, his hands cupping my face like I was precious.

I turned my head mid-kiss, and my blood froze. A silhouette at the door. Tall, familiar. "Dad?"

Marius whipped around, cock still softening inside me. I scrambled for the sheet, wrapping it around my naked, cum-streaked body in a frantic twist, shame burning my cheeks hotter than the belt marks. Jace stood there, face shadowed in the red light.

"Jace—" I stammered, voice cracking. "I'm so sorry—fuck, I—"

Marius sat up slowly, silent, the air thick with tension. Jace stepped closer, and I braced for rage, fists, the end of everything. But his face… calm. Quiet. No anger, just a soft, knowing smile.

"Did I interrupt something?" he asked, ignoring our apologies.

I locked eyes with him, speechless. Jace laughed lightly. "Stop apologizing, dude. I… uh, went through your diary eight months ago. You left it open after my girl's birthday party, remember? Saw all those fantasies about Dad. Figured I'd set you two up—invited you for holidays knowing Mom was gone and I'd be out with my girl."

Shock punched me in the gut. My fists unclenched slowly, sheets slipping. "You… what?"

Jace shrugged. "Dad's always asking about you—fishy as hell. Then the diary confirmed it. You two have been eye-fucking for years. Thought I'd play matchmaker."

Marius stood, pulling on his sweatpants, and crossed to hug Jace. They laughed, a weird, easy sound that twisted my insides. "You tell your mother?" Marius asked quietly.

Silence stretched. Jace's smile faded. "Better if it's our secret. Till death."

He turned to leave, pausing at the door. "Good luck, Mikel. You're gonna need it with him."

The door clicked shut.

Marius turned back to me, eyes dark with promise.

The two weeks of holiday blurred into a haze of raw, relentless fucking. After Jace walked out that night with his quiet blessing, the playroom became our sanctuary.

Marius kept me collared in black leather during the day—hidden under my shirt when Jace was around—and naked the moment the front door clicked shut. Every lesson started the same: me on my knees, wrists bound, mouth stretched wide around his thick cock until spit dripped down my chin, tears streamed down my cheeks, and my throat burned. Then he’d flip me, belt cracking across my ass until the skin glowed red, before slamming in deep—rough, possessive thrusts that made my hole clench and my cock leak untouched.

He fucked me everywhere. Kitchen counter at dawn, bent over the dining table while Jace slept upstairs, poolside under moonlight with water lapping at my thighs as he knotted me against the edge, growling “Take Daddy’s load, boy” while I sobbed into his shoulder.

Multiple rounds every day—sometimes three, four—until my legs shook and my ass was sore, swollen, dripping his cum down my thighs. I came so many times I lost count, body drained yet always hungry for more. Jace caught glimpses—once walking in on me riding Marius reverse on the couch, once hearing my muffled moans through the wall—and just smirked, never interrupting.

On the final night, Jace’s mom returned. I watched from the hallway as Marius kissed her hello, his hand on her waist, and jealousy stabbed through me like a blade. That cock—my addiction—would be hers again. I packed in silence, hole still throbbing from the morning’s pounding.

Past midnight, Marius dragged me from the room where I pretended to be asleep while I jerked myself quietly, to the basement.

He slipped in first, eyes dark, already hard. No words. He pinned me to a red-lit mattress, yanked my shorts down, and thrust in raw—deep, brutal strokes that punched the air from my lungs. Belt snapped across my ass mid-fuck, each crack timed to his rhythm. “One last lesson,” he growled, knot swelling, locking us together as he flooded me again. I bit the pillow, moaning “Daddy” until my voice broke, body trembling through another shattering orgasm.

When he finally pulled out, cum leaking from my wrecked hole, he kissed me slow—possessive, tender. “This isn’t goodbye, boy,” he murmured against my lips. “You’ll be back.”

I left at dawn, ass sore, marked, owned. And already counting the days until I could kneel for him again.

Our semester break.