Chapter 3 TAKING MARIUS'S COCK 3.

My heart slammed against my ribs so violently I felt it in my throat.

I stood naked, cock bobbing heavy and leaking between my thighs, I spun toward the sound, fists clenching so hard my nails carved half-moons into my palms. Sweat prickled across my bare chest. Jace? His mom? Fuck, what if—

“Relax, boy.” Marius’s voice rolled over me, low and amused, like velvet dragged across my skin. He didn’t even glance at the door. “I locked it the second Jace left. You think I’d let anyone intrude on our special lessons?”

The word lessons sent a fresh pulse straight to my dick. I exhaled shakily, shoulders dropping, but my fists stayed tight. A small smile tugged at my lips despite the terror still fizzing in my veins.

Marius crossed the room in three strides, every muscle in his back flexing. His palm cracked across my bare ass, sharp, stinging heat blooming instantly across the cheek. I gasped, the smack echoing through the quiet house, my cock jerking hard at the sudden burn.

He opened the door just enough.

Mrs. Hargrove, the old neighbor from across the street, stood there in her floral housecoat, peering in. “Marius, dear, have you seen my husband? He was supposed to—”

“Linda,” Marius cut in smoothly, voice warm but final, one hand still resting possessively on the doorframe. “My wife hasn’t returned from her trip yet. I’ll let her know you stopped by the second she’s home.”

He shut the door with a firm click before she could answer, twisting the deadbolt again for good measure.

I was already at the dining table when he turned back, completely naked, ass planted on the cool wooden chair, face burning crimson. Pleasure and pure filthy anticipation had my cheeks flushed, my cock standing rigid against my stomach, a clear bead of pre-cum sliding down the shaft.

Marius’s eyes dragged over me slowly, approving. “Look at that pretty blush. Good boy.”

He sat across from me, still in those gray sweatpants, and picked up his fork like this was any normal dinner. The savory smell of stir-fry curled around us, mixing with the thick scent of my own arousal. I tried to eat. Really. But my eyes kept flicking to him.

The way his throat worked when he swallowed, the flex of his tattooed forearm. My free hand slipped under the table, fingers wrapping around my throbbing cock. I stroked slowly, barely moving, just enough to ease the ache. Wet sounds were tiny, hidden under the scrape of cutlery.

Marius didn’t look up. “Eat, Mikel. Unless you won’t have the strength to take all of me”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. My balls drew up tight, cock pulsing wildly in my fist. I was right there — right on the edge, thighs trembling, pre-cum slicking my fingers. One more stroke and I’d spill all over the floor.

His gaze snapped up. Dark. Commanding. No words, just that stare.

I remembered. Don’t come until I say.

My hand flew off my cock like it burned. I snatched the fork and shoveled food into my mouth, chewing fast, cheeks still flaming. The taste barely registered; all I could feel was the heavy throb between my legs and the way my hole clenched emptily at the thought of taking him.

Marius chuckled, low and satisfied. “Knew you’d be a good boy for me.”

He took his last bite, set the fork down with deliberate calm, then stood. “Time’s up for your meal, boy.”

I slid my plate toward him without thinking, eyes lifting to meet his.

My best friend’s dad. My master now. The realization sent another hot rush through me.

Marius scooped me up bridal-style like I weighed nothing, one thick arm under my knees, the other behind my back. My naked body pressed against his warm chest, cock trapped between us, leaking against his abs as he carried me down the hall.

He pushed open a door at the end. The room was pitch black until he flicked a switch.

Soft red light bathed everything, deep crimson walls, black sheets on a massive bed, the air thick with the scent of leather and something darker, muskier. My fantasy. Exactly the room I’d jerked off to a hundred times: being ruined by Marius in blood-red darkness.

I laughed breathlessly, excitement making my cock twitch and drip onto my stomach. “Fuck… this is—”

He hit the main lights.

Bright white flooded the space.

My mouth fell open.

On a low black table beside the bed: everything. Thick butt plugs in graduated sizes, gleaming metal handcuffs, a wide leather belt doubled over, a thick black strap-on dildo with harness, bottles of lube, a riding crop, nipple clamps, a spreader bar. All of it laid out like tools waiting for a job.

My dick leaked steadily now, a thin string of pre-cum stretching to my thigh. I couldn’t even form words.

Are all of this for me?

The thought alone made my heart skipped a beat as it pounded heavily against my chest in anticipation.

But I didn't ask. I'd rather watch everything unfold before me.

Marius set me gently on the bed, then leaned down and kissed me — slow, deep, claiming. Our tongues slid together for a full minute, wet and filthy. He bit my lower lip hard. I moaned, loud and broken, “Fuuuuck—”

He pulled back, walked to the wardrobe, and returned with a tripod and professional camera. He set it up at the foot of the bed, lens pointed straight at me.

My stomach flipped. “W-what’s that for?”

“Recording every bit of your lessons,” he said calmly, adjusting the angle. “Jace’s mom has always loved watching our tapes. Twenty-five years of marriage and we’ve got an entire library of them. You’ll look beautiful on camera, boy. Spread open and take me.”

The discomfort lasted two seconds, then melted under the heat in his eyes. I nodded, breath shaky.

Marius stripped.

Sweatpants hit the floor. His cock sprang free — thick, veined, heavy, the head already glistening. It bounced as he walked back to the bed, balls full and low.

I swallowed hard at the sight before me. My heart thumped so hard I felt the fluttering in my stomach.

He cuffed my wrists first, cold metal clicking shut around each one, chaining me to the headboard so my arms stretched wide. Then my ankles, spreader bar locking my legs obscenely open, knees bent, hole completely exposed. The position left me helpless, cock pointing straight up, dripping nonstop onto my abs.

Marius picked up the smallest plug first, slicked it generously with lube until it shone. “Breathe, good boy.”

He pressed it against my hole. The cool silicone nudged, then popped inside with a wet sound. I moaned, hips jerking. He twisted it slowly, stretching me, before pulling it out and replacing it with the next size. Larger. Thicker. Each one made me whimper louder, the stretch burning so good my fists clenched around the chains, metal rattling.

By the fourth plug — fat, heavy, stretching me wide, tears pricked my eyes.

“Marius—sir—please—”

He spanked my ass with the belt, sharp cracks that lit my skin on fire. “Count them.”

“One—fuck—two—ahh—three—”

The belt landed again and again while he fucked me with the biggest plug, twisting it deep, angling it against my prostate until I was sobbing, cock untouched and leaking in a steady stream.

Then he pulled the plug out with a filthy pop. My hole gaped, clenching on nothing.

Marius slicked his own cock, lined up, and thrust in — one long, relentless stroke until his balls slapped my ass.

The fullness, the burn, the way he bottomed out and ground deep, ripped a broken cry from my throat. He didn’t wait. He fucked me hard, hips snapping, the wet slap-slap-slap of skin echoing with every brutal thrust. The camera caught everything: my cuffed wrists pulling at the chains, my tear-streaked face, my cock bouncing and leaking with every pound.

“Such a tight little hole,” he growled, voice wrecked. “Been dreaming about wrecking it since you were nineteen. Look at you — taking Daddy’s cock like you were born for it. Good boy. Cry for me.”

I did. Tears rolled down my temples as pleasure broke me apart. He switched to the strap-on dildo, thicker than his cock, harnessed around his waist, and fucked me with that too, slow and deep while he stroked my cock just enough to keep me on the edge.

“Beg,” he ordered.

“Please—sir—please let me come—”

“Not yet.”

He pulled out, flipped me onto my stomach, chains rattling, yanked my hips up, and drove back in. Deeper angle. Harder. My moans turned hoarse, filling the red-lit room. He reached around, pinched my nipples until I screamed, then wrapped a hand around my throat — not choking, just owning — while he railed me.

When I thought I couldn’t take any more, he pulled out completely.

“On your knees. Mouth open.”

He uncuffed my ankles but recuffed my wrists chained above my head. I scrambled up, jaw dropping eagerly. Marius fed his cock past my lips, thick, salty, tasting like lube and my own hole. He gripped my hair and thrust deep, hitting the back of my throat.

The obscene sounds filled the room as he fucked my face. Spit poured down my chin, tears streamed, but I sucked harder, hollowing my cheeks, tongue working the underside.

“Good boy,” he groaned, hips stuttering. “Take every inch. Gonna fill that pretty throat and you’re going to swallow like the perfect little slut you are.”

My own cock throbbed untouched, leaking onto the sheets. I was so close, just from sucking him, when his phone suddenly vibrated on the nightstand.

Marius didn’t stop. He kept my head pinned, cock buried to the hilt in my throat, and reached over with one hand to answer.

“Hey, son,” he said, voice perfectly steady while his cock twitched on my tongue. “Yeah, Mikel’s here… we’re just having dinner. Is everything good?”

My eyes widened in panic and filthy thrill as he held me there, throat bulging around him, tears rolling, while he casually talked to Jace.

Marius smirked down at me, thumb stroking my stretched lips.

“Stay on the line a second, Jace. I think Mikel wants to say hi…”

Say hi?

The words echoed in my skull like a bad joke. How the fuck was I supposed to say hi to my best friend while kneeling on the red-lit playroom bed, wrists still cuffed above my head, throat bulging around his fifty-seven-year-old father's massive cock?