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“You bitch! Get on your fucking knees!” Artyom yelled, yanking the black loop that was attached to Nikita’s collar.The sheer force choked Nikita, getting thrown to the soft floor near Artyom’s legs, the strap hung loosely against his shoulder as he landed in a stiff, protective stance.
His back arched awkwardly as his fingers pressed into the soft knotted beige carpet. His legs trembled under the strain, his breathing heavy and ragged.
The fabric of his beige jeans stretched tight as his knees slammed into the floor. He gripped the floor, buried inside the oversized black ‘Purgen’ hoodie he wore every day.
Artyom loomed over him, his grip firm on the leash as he stared down at Nikita. The power dynamic was clear, and Artyom savored the control he held in this moment.
"That's what I thought," Artyom sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "Now stay there and don't move until I tell you to."
Nikita stuttered, “Y-yes ma-Tyoma”, refraining himself from uttering ‘master’ in fear of Artyom getting more pissed off. He let out shaky exhales; his chest still aching from the pull. He felt embarrassed. He was in between Artyom’s legs. He felt like a dog.
Artyom was sitting near the edge of his bed, not wearing any pants and only wearing his oversized black shirt that ended where his bare thighs were. His black shirt had a small white logo with words labeled “FBI” on the right side of his chest. He felt satisfied seeing how defenseless Nikita looked. Nikita swallowed as he exchanged looks with Artyom’s oceanic eyes. He felt his stomach churning in an uneasy way, his heart racing with anxiety. He loved Artyom but he wasn’t sure if Artyom loved him back. Artyom had a lot of friends and was very popular at school. Nikita considered him his only friend. Nobody liked Nikita and it stayed that way the rest of his life.
Artyom's grip on the leash tightened as he felt Nikita's body tense beneath his feet, the younger man's submission both intoxicating and infuriating. "Good boy," Artyom purred, the words laced with mockery. He nudged Nikita's head with his foot, forcing his face closer to the floor. "Keep that pretty voice down, slut… you don’t want anybody to hear us don’t you?” Artyom taunted. He mostly didn’t wanna get caught dead with Nikita, nor appeared gay. It felt like an insult.
Nikita’s cheeks burned hot against the floor. His ribs aching under the heavy pressure. Teeth gritted, one eye forced shut as he strained to look up at Artyom’s. The apartment was dead silent around them, no one was coming to save him.
When Artyom was done mocking him, he removed his foot from his skull. “Get up!” he barked, his voice echoing in the tight space. He saw Nikita’s body trembling as he tried to get up. His neck muscles strained just to lift his chin from the carpet. His arms shook violently under his own weight, barely keeping him from collapsing right back down.
Artyom let out a satisfied chuckle; “Really wanna make yourself useful, Kitja?” he taunted, a wide smirk spreading across his face. He now had Nikita on his knees in front of him, looking down at him with lust, his pupils dilating with a half lidded gaze. He bit his bottom lip, “mph”, he looked pathetic. Nikita just stared, he couldn’t think of anything to say. His lips trembling, and his eyes widened in sheer fear.
Slowly, Artyom opened his legs and leaned back, his spine curving into a gentle arch as a low, satisfying groan escaped his lips. With his left hand, he lifted the hem of his black shirt, exposing the smooth plane of his stomach before letting the fabric fall loosely against his skin, revealing his pink pussy. His vulvar shaded in soft layers of pink, the color inside was dark and red in the deeper hues. His vagina had folded lines on each side; a long tube tucked inside for Nikita to suck, located to the clitoris that disappeared into the hidden depth.
Nikita stared through his pussy, his brown eyes widening even more. The sight is both terrifying but at the same time hot. His breathing is sharp and fast. He couldn’t believe it. Artyom had a pussy. His mouth watered, feeling drool trailing down his bottom lip. He questioned what it tastes or how it feels. He was pretty excited. Artyom’s smile turned into an angry frown, his time wasting when Nikita zoned out.
“Lick it up, you bitch” Artyom scolded, pulling the leash again. “Hurry up faggot—Ion got all day!”
Nikita felt his collar tighten again. He obeyed “y-yes Tyoma..”. Scooting closer to his vagina, his lips felt the vagina’s outer folds. He felt Artyom’s inner thighs warming his neck, his heartbeat racing fast, his stomach churned. He exchanged looks with Artyom, who looked very angry and impatient. “Well?” He jabbed the leash, harder this time. “Use your tongue". Nikita opened his mouth, revealing his small pink tongue. As he scooted closer, His tongue jabbed inside the inner opening, causing Artyom to let out a low agonizing moan “ooh”. Artyom lifted his chin, eyes closing to the sensation, his breathing heavy and fast paced.
Nikita began to swirl his tongue inside Artyom. The inside felt warm and tasted salty. Artyom felt his arms trembling with pleasure. He continued letting out low breathing moans. “Ohh.. ohh..” His chest was rising up and down, his eyelids grew heavy with pleasure.
His mouth was hanging open as Nikita's skilled tongue continued working wonders on his neglected pussy. "Fuck, fuck," he panted, hips rolling shamelessly against Nikita's face. "You actually know how to eat pussy, you little whore."
“mngh…” Nikita murmured, feeling his hips squishing his face, his pale cheeks blushing with red shades. He continues licking, his lips sucking and slurping the folds. The silent room only contained slurping and groaning noises. Artyom threw his head back further “oohhh… ahhhh” his body gave pleasure, releasing discharge out of his clitoris. His breathing became faster.
Nikita's muffled groans vibrated against Artyom's clit, sending jolts of electricity through his overstimulated body. He sucked harder, desperately trying to taste every drop of Artyom's release, his tongue working relentlessly inside the trembling folds. His hot breath tickled Artyom's sensitive skin, mixing with the wet, filthy sounds of his devotion.
When he started going faster, Artyom cried out,
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
He felt his g spot throbbing inside, an intense warmth gathering in his lower belly, coiling into a tight, heavy knot that weighed him down. He was breathing in fast paces, his legs trembling with excitement. With his free hand, he gripped hard on Nikita’s hair, causing his face to get shoved deeper in his folded layers of his vagina, nose puckering on the clitoral hood, his other hand still gripping onto the bed cover.
“M-mph!” Nikita whined out. His right eye opened, his left forcefully shut by the fold. He let out a muffled whimper “hnghh”. He felt tiny drops of tears forming in his eyes. Not from sadness but excitement. His other eye shut, jostling his head to lick more of his discharge as Artyom’s hips continued to purposely roll.
The room echoed with intense noises, the wall showcasing the silhouette movements of their close bodies in the dim light. Artyom’s palm rested behind Nikita’s cold neck, his thumb protruding against the circular side. He felt Nikita’s head rolling, his thighs stil holding him in place against his orgasm.
Artyom took a small peek and oh my god. Nikita looked adorable “shit! He looks so fucking cute” he thought to himself, his body convulsing with pleasure.
The sight of Nikita trapped between his thighs, tears leaking from his closed eyes, was the hottest thing Artyom had ever seen. It was better than seeing a female attempt it.
Nikita looked eager, his soft black hair tickling his inner thighs. His lashes resting down on his closed eyes, continuing to worship his vagina like a starving man. He felt happy, that validation he always wanted. He felt seen, loved by someone who had no interest in him back. He was Artyom’s ‘good boy’.
Artyom's breath caught at the sight of Nikita completely lost in his task, his usually confident facade crumbling into something almost... loving. He found himself petting Nikita's hair gently, murmuring praises between gasps. "So pretty... you're such a good boy for me, Kitja...". His hand was still clinging onto the loop in his hand, giving it a firm pull that tightened more around Nikita's swollen neck. He felt his clit wet. He was really wet. His eyes felt tired. His eyes filled with lust and pleasure.
“Mmph” Nikita slightly opened his tired and depressing doe-like eyes, hearing Artyom’s response. He felt happy and praised. He remained where he was, knees split on the carpet, face buried between Artyom’s trembling thighs, lips still clinging to the slick folds. His breath came in quiet, shuddering little hitches, his body trembling not just from exhaustion, but from the hollow euphoria of being *seen*.
Artyom stared down at him for a while—the way Nikita's lips were slick and swollen, the tear still glistening in the corner of his shut eyes. He looked broken. Beautiful. *His*. And in that moment, something cracked inside Artyom—an emotion he couldn’t name, one that curled into his chest like smoke.
"Stay," he whispered, the command softer than before.
“You did so good” Artyom leaned forward, he saw Nikita resting his chin against his pubic mound. He looked tired, taking short fast paced breathing. His tounge felt the slaty discharge, smelling like fish. The smell hung thick in the air—fishy, sour, unmistakably Artyom’s. Nikita didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. It smelled nasty but Nikita liked the smell, probably because was used to how stinky he usually was, ew.
“Ready for the next part?” Artyom muttered, his thumb pressing onto Nikita’s cheekbone. He smirked as he saw Nikita’s sad and tired eyes.
He ran his thumb along Nikita’s lower lip, catching a glistening trail of saliva mixed with his own discharge. The boy trembled beneath his touch—not from fear, but from the terrifying sweetness of being *chosen*.
“Mmm” Nikita softly murmured against the fleshy flab. He wasn’t sure what Artyom planned but it’s probably not good, not to him at least.
Artyom took his muffled response as a ‘yes’, not giving him a choice.
“Mmh.. Goodboy…”
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