Henry had lost count of how many times Mark had taken him, his body a well-used vessel that no longer resisted, and now he was suspended on Mark's cock alone, his feet barely far from the floor as Mark held him by the hips, impaled and helpless, every breath a reminder of the thick length buried inside him, and he could feel the ache in his muscles, the raw tenderness of his hole that had been stretched and filled and filled again over the last couple of days, yet still his treacherous body responded,his pussy leaked, as mark rocked him quickly, deliberately, a possession so complete that Henry could no longer tell where his own flesh ended and Mark's began, and he thought, with a strange clarity that cut through the haze of exhaustion and arousal, that tomorrow he would be free, tomorrow this would all be over, but for now he could only hang on, moaning when Mark thrust deeper.
"Fuck you've been so horny this week, what's gotten into you?" Mark whispered. Henry, his mind stripped of all pretense and pride by the relentless days of surrender, could only moan that he loved Mark, the words spilling from his lips like the cum still leaking from his body, "I love you, Mark, I love you so much," and Mark froze for a heartbeat before a dark, satisfied chuckle rumbled through his chest, his thrusts slowing to a deep, grinding rhythm as he leaned down to bite Henry's ear, "That's right, baby, you love me, you love being my little whore, don't you?" and Henry could only nod, tears of shame and something else, something terrifyingly close to devotion, streaming down his face as he felt Mark's cock pummel him to orgasm for the unknownth time, the confession binding him more completely than any chain ever could.
And in that moment of confession, the last thread of resistance that had defined Henry snapped, the relentless fucking of the past days having ground his identity down to nothing but a raw, aching need for Mark's approval, his body a hollow vessel that existed only to be filled, and as Mark continued to fuck him with brutal, methodical strokes, Henry found himself beyond shame, beyond even the desperate declarations of love, his mind floating in a strange, empty peace where there was only the feeling of being used, the sound of Mark's grunts, the wet slap of flesh on flesh, his goal had been to just make it to the end of the week, the moment was literally minutes away, and yet, as he took the fucking from Mark, his exes new Boyfriend, he began to dread leaving.
A sharp knock cut through the room, insistent and demanding, but Mark only grunted, his hands tightening on Henry's hips as he pulled him closer, the rhythm of his thrusts never faltering, and when the knocking came again, louder this time, followed by a muffled shout, Henry's own name, his old voice, raw with desperation, Mark laughed, a low, mean sound, and fell backward onto the couch, making Henry ride him, driving into him with renewed vigor, their bodies slapping together as Henry's ex pounded on the door, screaming for him, for them to stop, and Henry, felt a perverse thrill at being claimed so thoroughly, at knowing that the man outside, his ex in his body, could hear every wet sound of his submission, could imagine what was happening inside, and he wrapped his legs around Mark, pulling him deeper, his moans rising to meet the frantic knocking until the noise outside became just another rhythm, another beat in the song of his surrender, and he let it all fade, let himself become nothing but the hole Mark was using, his old life reduced to a distant shout that was easily drowned out by the wet sounds of his own body being taken.
With a clarity that felt almost sacred, Henry focused on the moment, he was going to enjoy this while he could, that his ex could wait, that the life waiting on the other side of that door was a prison of obligation and memory while this, this moment of being nothing but a warm, willing hole, was a strange and terrible freedom, and so he reached down and placed his hands over Mark's, guiding them to his waist, showing him where to grip harder, where to leave bruises that would last, and he began to ride Mark with a desperate, almost angry energy, his body taking what it needed, the sounds of his own fucking filling the room, he tightened around Mark's cock, milking him with his body, demanding more even as he felt himself approaching another climax, his mind a perfect, empty white space where there was only the feeling of being filled, the sound of Mark's ragged breathing, and the distant, fading echo of a name that no longer felt like his own.
And in that final moment, as the door burst open and his ex's face, in his body, his old face, contorted in horror, Henry felt himself climax, his body convulsing around Mark's thick cock, he cried out, begged Mark to fill him, and Mark obliged with a final, brutal thrust, emptying himself into Henry's willing hole as the ex screamed and lunged forward, too late to stop what was already done, his hands grabbing at Henry's shoulder, pulling him off Mark, while Henry's body still trembled with the aftershocks of his orgasm, his hole clenching around nothing, and he turned to face the man he used to love with eyes that held only a strange, hollow peace.
Henry's ex, was gobsmacked, she started to shout, stammering about needing to reverse the process, but her words are drowned by Mark's cold laughter, telling her to get the fuck out, that whatever game she's playing is over, that this must be some desperate plea to get his girlfriend back. She turned to Henry with desperate eyes, pleading for him to want to switch back, to want his old life, this wasn't what she'd planned, she'd just wanted him to see, but Henry just watched her with a hollow peace, feeling nothing but a vague annoyance at the interruption, "What do you mean change back? I told you I didn't want you any more," he smiled.
She tried to grab his arm, to physically drag him toward his old body, Mark grabbed her by the collar of the shirt she was wearing, shoving her out the door with a snarl, slamming it shut before turning back to Henry with that dark, approving smile, and Henry feels a thrill of relief as Mark's hands find him again, his voice low and possessive as he says, "Now, where were we?"
Henry smiled, and sunk down to the ground, accepting his boyfriends cock in to his mouth once more. Outside his Ex cried, realising this was all her fault, all she'd wanted was to see how much better she had it now, she hadn't realised Henry woul learn to love it, and now, she was trapped as him...
