Roommate Hosted a (Straight?) Gangbang 04

Everyone is 18 and fully consenting.

Chapter 4: Ownership and Release

He pulled me into him. One arm draped across my waist. My cock suddenly didn’t bother me in the moment, while I curled back into him and felt his warmth on me. In less than a minute, I was asleep.

In the morning, I woke to the feel of his body pressing against me, and surprisingly, kisses down my spine. I felt his large member separate my butt cheeks and exert some pressure on me. I blinked, still foggy, but when he slid inside me, my body welcomed it like it had been waiting all night. He groaned into my neck, and I reached back to hold his hip, pulling him deeper. It was weirdly easy to take him this time. Maybe I was really getting opened up. Or maybe the longer I stayed in the cage, the more receptive I got in general.

He held me around my chest and humped me quickly. I reached for my dick out of instinct but found only the cage. The frustration excited me and I started groaning with my hand wrapped around the base of my balls.

By the time he finished, I was shaking. My body was tingling and I was honestly aching everywhere, from the cage, from the sex, from the denial. But I remember distinctly thinking that it was the best way I'd ever woken up, and I wanted more. I was already starting to lose my mind.

Over the next couple days, I melted further into the caged life. I stayed locked the whole time, every movement rubbed against the cage, which actually felt kind of good. It weirdly kept me on the edge without ever tipping over. I tried fingering myself a few times, but it was nothing like a dick.

The orgasm denial started to rewire something in me. I started feeling really soft around Clark. Around all guys honestly. My voice changed a little when I talked to guys. I looked at their hands more, and I pictured them pressing my head down onto their dicks. I watched the way they moved.

Clark started giving me instructions, like, randomly. Sometimes he would say something casually like, “You’re not allowed to suck any dick today,” and my instinct was to obey without question. Just hearing it from him made my whole body react. When Eric texted me later that day, I told him I couldn't do oral. So he just went straight to fucking me. Clark never said I couldn't have sex.

When I got back to the dorm that night, Clark was sitting on the edge of his bed, shirtless and scrolling his phone. I interrupted something, and he shifted positions in a telling way, like he was just about to jerk off before I walked in. The light from his desk lamp cast a warm glow across his bare chest, showing a sheen of a light layer of sweat on him. He looked up at me.

“Strip,” he said. Not loud. Just firm.

I obeyed.

The metal cage was still snug and locked in place, pressed tight against me all day, teasing me through every moment of normal life. I had learned how to stay hygenic, by just blasting my crotch with the shower head. My jeans dropped to the floor and I stood there in front of him, swelling against the cage, pulsing without hope. He looked me over like he was inspecting a piece of equipment. His gaze lingered.

He stood, walked slowly over, and circled me like a military instructor, or like a frat hazing ritual. I shivered as his fingers brushed my ass. He spread my cheeks apart.

“You’ve been busy,” he murmured, pressing his hand to the small of my back.

He stood up and looked at my face. He studied my eyes closely. I couldn't help but smile just a little.

"You didn't suck dick today," he said, "otherwise your eyes would be red and watery."

It was hot how he knew that about me.

I shook my head. “No, sir.”

He smiled at that. "Good boy."

—[]—

Then he pushed me down over the edge of the bed and slid into me with practiced ease, using spit and whatever lube still clung to my insides from earlier. I groaned into the mattress, and he grabbed the back of my neck, holding me there with one strong hand while he started to move. His pace wasn’t slow. It was deliberate. Possessive. Like he was reminding me whose I was.

About a minute in, I heard a knock at the door.

Clark didn’t even pause. "Come in," he called, breathless.

The door opened and in walked a guy I barely recognized—one of his teammates, maybe. A little older, taller, covered in a black hoodie and gym shorts. He paused when he saw me getting used, then nodded like he was in on the plan.

"He’s warmed up for you," Clark said, panting a little.

The guy laughed, pulled his shorts down, and stepped behind me as Clark pulled out. My hole clenched, then relaxed, gaping. The new guy didn’t hesitate and lined up quickly. He slid inside with a quiet exhale.

My moan was muffled by the mattress. The stretch was new again, a different shape, a different rhythm. Clark sat in his chair, shirtless and smiling, watching it all like it was a game he was proud of setting in motion.

That was the moment I realized, he was basically finding guys for me now. Organizing for me. Offering me up to random guys.

And I loved it. I loved being that submissive. My reputation be damned. Maybe this was what all of it had been about. I was starting to think that maybe this was who I was.

—[]—

Clark seemed to notice the change in me. “You’re getting kind of good at this,” he said one night, tapping my cage with his foot while I knelt naked by his bed. I flushed so hard I felt it in my ears. He smirked and handed me a La Croix. I wasn’t even sure I was allowed to drink it, but I waited for him to nod before I sipped. That tiny moment of permission lit me up inside.

His foot lingered between my thighs, just under the cage, nudging it like he was testing its tension. Then he leaned back on the bed, legs spread, cock already half-out of the leg hole of his shorts.

“Since you’re already down there,” he said casually, not even looking at me, “might as well get to work.”

I didn’t need more than that. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to the base of his shaft, inhaling his scent as I began. His hand slid lazily to the back of my head, guiding me at first, then just resting there.

He let out a breath and stared at his phone while I moved slowly, tongue working carefully, body aching. I was caged and hard and it hurt. But it was the good kind of hurt. The kind I craved now.

After a minute, there was a knock at the door. Clark didn’t even blink.

“Come in,” he called.

The door opened. A guy I recognized from the soccer team walked in. Another shirtless, sweaty, confident jock.

Clark just nodded toward me. “He’s already warmed up. Go ahead.”

And just like that, I was passed off. The new guy pulled down his shorts and stepped forward, cock thick and ready. He rubbed himself for a moment then aimed it at my face.

I opened my mouth without hesitation.

Clark chuckled behind me. “Yeah,” he said. “You’re getting real good at this.”

I wasn’t just obeying. I was learning to want it. 

They lifted my body together and gently placed me on the bed, like a delicate object. They proceeded to share me and call me names suggesting that I was a girl, and a slutty one at that. They honestly weren't far off.

—[]—

Soon he’d just stretch out on his bed, cock half out of his shorts, and say things like, “Since you’re down there, might as well get to work.” Sometimes he didn’t even touch himself. Sometimes he just wanted my mouth or my tongue while he scrolled through Instagram. My cage would be aching the whole time, but I stayed focused. I wanted to serve. I wanted to be good for him.

He didn’t always finish. That wasn’t the point. Sometimes he just held my head in place while I licked or sucked whatever body part he wanted. More than once he just let out a quiet moan, then said “That’s enough,” and let me go. It was like I was just his toy for a moment. Not to be finished with. Just to be used.

On Thursday, as I walked out of the boys’ bathroom between classes, wiping my face with the sleeve of my hoodie after finishing off a guy I barely knew, I ran straight into a girl who clearly hadn’t just stumbled by. She had been waiting.

She was tall, blonde, and built like every sorority stereotype come to life. Big fake lashes, a pink crop top stretched tight over her chest, and yoga pants that left nothing to the imagination. Her hair was in a bouncy high ponytail, and her oversized designer tote bag hung from one shoulder like it weighed nothing. She was chewing gum and staring right at me.

“Did you fuck my boyfriend?” she asked.

It caught me so off guard, I didn’t even have time to lie properly.

Her voice was casual, but her eyes were sharp. I blinked at her, and my brain scrambled to figure out who her boyfriend even was. Then it hit me. I had seen her with Grant, that guy who came over the morning after the first night of my new life. Then again one morning in the gym shower when he put it in my ass to cum.

She held up a picture of him on her phone. Yup. It was Grant.

I could've told her the truth, that I had sucked him off repeatedly over the last couple weeks, every time he knocked on my door. We didn't even talk anymore, just quickie throat fucks is all he wanted. Not to mention I had seen him in the gym that morning, and he dragged me to a dark corner of the showers and used my throat to his satisfaction, before pushing me up against the wall and sticking it in my ass to cum.

I tried to play dumb. “I’ve never seen him before in my life.”

She half smiled in a sort of evil bitch way, like she knew exactly how much bullshit that was.

I watched her walk off, ass swaying, and felt something strange settle in my chest. I didn't even feel bad about it. It was something closer to pride. She knew. And I didn’t care. My reputation had already shifted. I wasn’t anonymous anymore. People knew. Guys wanted me. I guess girls will get jealous sometimes.

—[]—

I was counting the days in lockup, and after two weeks, my body didn’t feel like it was even mine anymore. Every day I spent caged made me hungrier, more sensitive, and more raw. I wasn't the same person at all. I felt sexual sensations throughout my body during all parts of the day. Sitting in class, eating with friends, even while I slept. I flinched at every brush of fabric. My hips bucked at any casual touch, from girl or guy. My brain was swimming in a fog of denial, obedience, and a fire in my stomach.

It wasn't even Christmas break yet, and college had already shown me more than I ever expected.

Clark was relentless that night. He had me face down on the mattress, my body arched back into his without even thinking. He was reminding me how dominant he could be when he was in the mood. He held my wrists above my head with one hand, and the other squeezed my throat until I made choking sounds. I started to lose awareness due to lack of oxygen, and I became pleasantly aware of a sensation like I was floating. It was new eough to make me melt into it. I had lost all fear, completely given myself to the submission.

I gasped and whimpered, pressing back into him rhythmically as my cock twitched uselessly in its cage. I was leaking so much it soaked through the sheets under me. Clark kept driving into me with a rhythm that felt cruel and perfect. Every thrust pushed the air out of me, and I was reaching a new high. When I moaned his name, he growled something into my ear I couldn’t even process. I was literally seeing stars. I felt him finish inside me, a warm and deep load flooding my guts. And then everything went blurry.

When I blinked back to myself, the room was different. The air was still thick, but I wasn’t alone.

Shawn was there. How long had he been there? I hadn't seen him since the day he put the cock cage on me with Clark.

He stood just beside the bed, arms crossed, a quiet smile on his face.

Clark stepped back, wiping sweat from his forehead, while I struggled to catch my breath, still trembling, still pinned by the energetic moment.

Shawn leaned down toward me slowly, brushed a hand through my damp hair, and said, "You’ve earned it. It’s time for your release..."

—[]—

Shawn tied my wrists to the headboard of Clark’s bed. The rope was rough against my skin, tight enough to hold but not enough to hurt. I had wanted something like this but didn't even know what to ask for.

He finally unlocked my cage. My cock sprang out like it was gasping for air, thick and red and leaking. I had never seen it that swollen before. Two weeks of being denied had built something deep inside me, and now that it was free, I didn’t even know what to do with it. My hands were tied, and I was loving the denial.

Shawn smiled, then reached for a neck massager out of his bag, one of those hardcore ones that athletes use. He clicked it on and pressed it to the underside of my shaft. My whole body bucked against the vibrating machine. I convulsed, but he followed my cock with the massager. It was too much. Too good. I gasped, moaned, begged into the mattress.

Clark sat on the chair nearby, still mostly naked and watching with a wide grin. “He’s about to lose it,” he said, and I heard the joy in his voice.

Shawn didn’t stop. He edged me with careful precision, bringing me to the edge again and again until I was whimpering. When he finally pushed me over the edge, he pulled away quickly. I humped the air fruitlessly as I squirted shot after shot of cum upward. It landed on my body and on the bed. It was a ruined orgasm. My body spasmed and twitched longer than any real orgasm I had ever had. It was messy, hot, and deeply unsatisfying in the best way. When I finally stopped, my cock still twitched, leaking across my stomach, and I didn’t go soft.

I stayed hard. My dick looked impossibly thick, like it had grown in desperation.

Shawn lifted my legs and entered me, taking his time and slowly filling me up. It was a bizarre sensation seeing the face of a guy that I had always looked up to as a role model. I moaned with each push. I was still bound, still exposed, and unable to stroke myself. Clark got up, walked over, and used the massager on my cock again while Shawn held my hips and kept thrusting.

When I came again, it was even stronger. It was real this time. Hotter. I shot across my chest while Shawn finished deep inside me.

They flipped me over. My wrists now crossed awkwardly above my head since they were tied to the headboard. I let Clark take me next, his rhythm steady, his hand stroking me once more. I came a third time, this one squirting the last bits of juice from my body as I finally hit my limit. The afterglow hit hard. I felt totally relaxed. Drained. I passed out face down on the bed.

The last thing I heard before sleep took me was Clark whispering to Shawn, "Look at the little guy." Being eighteen was a wild ride.

When I woke up the next morning, the cage was back on. I must have been too deep in sleep to notice. Clark was still out cold beside me.

I stayed still and watched him breathe until he stirred. He flipped over, his morning wood standing proud and levitating above his abs. Before even going to pee, he rolled over, pushed my head down and slid his cock into my mouth, and sighed as I took him in. I closed my eyes, inhaled the warmth and sweat of his crotch, and started my morning like I had always belonged there.

—[]—

For the rest of Freshman year, I was basically the hottest open secret on campus. Word spread fast. Guys started texting me at all hours, most of them athletes or frat bros with girlfriends who "weren't putting out right now." But none of them wanted to break up with those girls. They just wanted an outlet. And I became their go-to solution. I never even got into the gay scene on campus, just the secretly curious guys and the straight guys who would take a wet hole over their hand if they weren't getting any. I still had regular friends, didn't really date much (I just didn't care), and serviced guys pretty much every day. 

Sometimes it was late at night. Other times it was between classes. I honestly don't remember ever saying no. My body didn’t feel like mine anymore. It felt like a service I offered. Something they could use and walk away from. And I loved it. Every glance in the hallway was a potential dick in me, and every locker room visit might start with a nod and end with cum in my mouth. And it all made me feel whole.

Some people whispered when I passed. A few girls stared like they knew exactly what their boyfriends were doing behind their backs.

My reputation wasn’t clean anymore. But it was fucking cool. And I wouldn’t have traded it for anything. Not the old me, not the straight version I thought I had to be.