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Nathan pulls him back into position, not letting go of the knot after. He uses it as a grip to rock Carter back against the hook at the same time that he rolls it. The sensation is - god, it’s - it’s delicious, exquisite, whatever other word he can’t think of right now. His cock throbs.
He shakes his head, since he can’t speak with the gag, trying to tell Nathan he doesn’t want to feel good. Not in front of all these people. Not like this. Maybe not at all.
Nathan rolls the hook and tugs on the knot in unison again. And again. And again.
“Fucking slut is dripping for you, boss,” someone points out.
Carter squeezes his eyes shut in shame. It’s not his fault - the prostate stimulation would be enough, even if it didn’t feel as good as it felt. That doesn’t keep the men from laughing at him. From accusing him of liking it.
“Slut loves it,” one yells.
Another calls out, “Are you that desperate for cock that you’re hard for a piece of metal?”
“Let’s see how long he can go before he’s begging you to let him come!”
“I bet he begs as pretty as he cries.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“Yeah, tease the slut, boss.”
“And stuff him with your cock.”
“God, I fucking love to see a sluthole stuffed with cock.”
“Dude, that’s so gay.”
“Dude, everything we do with these slaves is so gay.”
“Speak for yourself, I only touch the chicks.”
“You’re missing out. Asses are tighter.”
“Chicks have asses dipshit.”
“Don’t call me a dipshit, asshole.”
“Stop fighting like idiots.”
“Can we watch you edge him, boss?”
“Please?”
“Edge him! Edge him! Edge him!”
They’re chanting now. Like frat boys or some shit.
Carter is caught between wanting to sob and scream.
Nathan leans forward, lips against the shell of Carter’s ear. His breath is warm. Carter shivers despite himself. “You’re nothing but a hole. A slave. You’re mine. All mine. You're not Carter anymore. Do you understand? Carter needs to leave now."
Carter tries. He imagines putting Carter in a box and locking him inside. Safe. Protected. But it doesn't work.
“Stop thinking. Why are you thinking, slave? That’s your sir’s job. You’re just a dumb little fucktoy.” Nathan –sir, think of him as sir, Carter– nibbles on his earlobe. It pulls a reluctant moan from him. The man sighs happily at the sound, something that shouldn't be as sexy as it is for Carter to hear. "That's it. Let me make you feel good, pet. Don’t you want to be a good fucktoy for me? My good boy? You don’t want to be naughty, do you?”
The dirty talk seeps into Carter’s brain, traveling down his spine and out to his toes and fingertips. His eyes fall closed.
“Do you?” sir prompts.
