Chapter 12
A week elapsed between that call and the following one.
A week in which Stefan obsessed over lying on that rug, naked and bound by the wrists, the itch of drying c*m on his lips. A week in which he fantasised of being bound at the ankles, too, and gagged to prevent him from screaming. A week in which he woke, sweating and hard, from vivid dreams of unrecognisable hands turning him onto his front, and rug-burn being scored deep into his chest as he was f****d by unknown c***s, over and over again. Until the c*m spilled with every new d**k, and he could feel the blood. Until, when someone dragged him up by the hair to prise the gag free and f**k his mouth a second time, Stefan could do nothing but hang there in agony like a ragdoll, his legs unable to support himself.
A week in
