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“He’d be disgusted!”
“Maison’s little slut brother.”
“Maybe he’d use you himself!”
“Yeah, you’re just a hole anyway!”
“Ignore them,” sir growls in his ear, the words a clear order. “You belong to me. Only me. They don’t fucking matter, understood?”
“Y-yes, sir,” Carter gasps.
But…it’s so much easier said than done.
Especially when they all start to agree on one thing – “Make the bitch come!”
“Show us how much you like to be raped, slut!”
“Look at him!”
“Fucking whore!”
“Gonna come for all of us, slave?”
“Master’s cock feels good, doesn’t it, slut?”
“Fucking made for this!”
“Useless!”
“Pathetic!”
“Fuckhole!”
“Come for us, slut!”
“Make him come, Roarke!”
“Awww, don’t cry, pretty slut!”
“Yeah, it’s okay – we don’t mind that you’re such a fucking whore!”
Sir’s hand wraps around his flagging erection, stroking him back to full hardness despite the words being thrown at him like daggers.
“S-sir,” Carter manages to whisper, shaking his head subtly. “Please, no…”
“Hush,” sir growls. “That word isn’t in your vocabulary. You're a fucking slave. If I want you to come, youwill."
Carter sobs brokenly, hanging his head in defeated shame. The crowd loves it, laughing and cheering, begging sir to make the whore come like the useless, mindless, fuckslave he is.
“That’s it, pet,” sir whispers. His inhales and exhales are heavy. Just on the edge of out of control. Carter always likes hearing sir unravel like this. Proof that he’s making him feel good. It helps tonight, but… barely. “You take sir’s cock so well. They're all just jealous of how good you are. How fucking perfect. You'll come for me, won't you? Because I want you to. Because I'mtellingyou to. Because you want to be a good boy for me. Right?"
Carter can't speak, too many emotions warring inside him. Someone shouts about Maison again. He hears the wordsdisappointmentandpatheticandcould never love you.
Carter sobs. And sobs. And sobs.
If he’s still hard, he can’t feel it.
From sir’s frustrated growl, he thinks maybe he’s not.
