It's been two weeks, and every time he's within sight of them, Matt and Peter are fucking.
It's not even that Frank thinks they are fucking for each other, anymore. It's way too deliberate for that; they're only ever fucking when he can see them. And they angle themselves in ways that look appealing and show-offy, but Frank knows from when he was married are actually more uncomfortable than anything else.
They seem to spend the rest of the time making a truly enormous amount of intensely delicious food, not touching it unless Frank told them to, washing everything except in Frank's bedroom, conferring with each other in whispers and doing what Frank guessed was crunches or yoga or something when he wasn't in the room. After three days, he'd been unable to stand the smell and told them take a shower every day, and they were so fast Frank would have thought they wouldn't actually be clean, but that wasn't the case.
So he headed out, not to buy more food or punish some slaveowners like he had in the week, but to crack and give in and call a fucking helpline, because it was that or scream at them to stop having sex, and that was not acceptable.
--
Matt takes a deep breath around the tight cords in his shoulders, and thinks about what to try next.
He and Peter have tried many things--the slow blowjobs, the very gentle sex, the nipple-play, spitroasting Peter with the dildo (that Master seemed to hate but hadn't thrown out for reasons unknown), licking and kissing each other's necks and mouths, even very delicate handjobs, fingering. At this point, he was going to try gluing or taping the gag dildo and the insertable together and having them both work on them with mouths and then holes together, because he genuinely didn't know what else to do.
It was torture, not being able to come but having to fuck multiple times a day, because they needed Master to fuck them. It was an irrefutable truth.
A long time ago, when Peter and Matt had been very young, they had doubted that they needed to be fucked by their master. To be fair, they were young enough that they hadn't been quite old enough to enjoy it yet, but it had been a lesson hard-learned. And now they both understood it in total: they needed to be fucked by Master. They were anxious and high-strung and exhausted with all the twitchy worrying they were doing--if Master even wanted them, if they were performing correctly, if they were too much filthy sluts who were only good for licking shoes and drinking piss to be even worth fucking.
But the thing was, Matt could tell that Master liked some of what they had done. He had liked when Matt had sat, legs spread, and gently held Peter's head done, murmuring that he was such a good boy and had a good tongue and knew how to use it, didn't he, oh yes he did, ahhh that felt so good, and when Matt had fingered Peter slowly open with far more lube than was strictly necessary and told him how tight and hot and good he was, how well he'd milk his cock, and then Peter rode him and Matt told Peter that he loved him and never wanted to be away from him, not ever again.
Master had liked the very slow blowjob Peter had done too, the delicate little licks like Matt's cock was the best thing he'd ever tasted, and Matt eating Peter out, making loud appreciate noises while Peter sobbed out how good it was.
Master had not liked some of the things--Peter using his mouth on the dildo-gag, Peter or Matt holding down one another's wrists, or Matt fucking Peter's face anything but slow and careful. It was torture, but they could improve. Sooner or later they'd hit upon the right thing, and then Master would be happy with them. He hadn't hit them once yet and told Matt and Peter the food was good every day, so it was just the sex that they hadn't gotten right yet.
--
Frank sighed to himself as he found a pamphlet with hotline numbers, and pulled up next to an alley with nobody else, and called.
"Hello, I'm Amelie, how can I help you with your slave?" A bright, bubbly fake voice chirped.
"They will not stop fucking," Frank snarled. He had nobody else to talk about this with. He didn't want anyone else knowing about Matt and Peter and carting them off to be hideously raped by the fucking cops and then thrown onto the open market and bought and hurt by more trash.
"Sir? Do they have sex at inappropriate times, or on furniture? Is that the problem?"
"No, they're always on the floor, but jesus fucking christ, they will not stop having sex in front of me. It's constant; every time I get up to do literally anything, there they are, going at it like Catholic bunnies."
"Have they been coming without permission as well all these times, sir?" The voice answered, and Frank had a bad feeling about this. He thought about it and realized that they had never once orgasmed in his hearing or sight, which was strange, and said "No."
"Well, that's a plus," the voice chirped. "Well, to stop errant slaves from behaviours you don't appreciate, we of course recommend punishment. Physical discipline reinforced by rewards when they behave is the best way to ensure a happy household all around."
Frank resisted the urge to snap the burner phone clean in half. It wouldn't help, anyway. "I'm not going to smack two kids for--trying to make me happy, or whatever it is they're aiming for."
"Sir? Have you fucked them yourself?"
"No. How is that relevant."
"Well, sir, slaves require regular fucking from owners, in order to help them understand their place, feel secure, and perform their duties. A great way to reward a slave is with more lubricant and/or orgasm during fucking. If you haven't fucked them, they may be attempting to entice you into fucking them. If you're not discipling them or otherwise establishing yourself as their owner, this may be an explanation of why they're so badly out of hand. Of course, if you wish to withhold it as a disciplinary measure or for other reasons, we do offer a range of products to help with your efforts."
"What."
"We have many chastity products, though depending on the genitals of the slaves and whether you think castration is an option you're interested in, some would work more appropriately than others. Of course, you can always train the desire for sex out of them with aversion conditioning, and to that end we offer a range of slave-veterinarian-certified shock collars--"
Frank threw the burner out the window and shot it twice. He couldn't listen to more of this trash.
FILL, Pt 3/?
It's been two weeks, and every time he's within sight of them, Matt and Peter are fucking.
It's not even that Frank thinks they are fucking for each other, anymore. It's way too deliberate for that; they're only ever fucking when he can see them. And they angle themselves in ways that look appealing and show-offy, but Frank knows from when he was married are actually more uncomfortable than anything else.
They seem to spend the rest of the time making a truly enormous amount of intensely delicious food, not touching it unless Frank told them to, washing everything except in Frank's bedroom, conferring with each other in whispers and doing what Frank guessed was crunches or yoga or something when he wasn't in the room. After three days, he'd been unable to stand the smell and told them take a shower every day, and they were so fast Frank would have thought they wouldn't actually be clean, but that wasn't the case.
So he headed out, not to buy more food or punish some slaveowners like he had in the week, but to crack and give in and call a fucking helpline, because it was that or scream at them to stop having sex, and that was not acceptable.
--
Matt takes a deep breath around the tight cords in his shoulders, and thinks about what to try next.
He and Peter have tried many things--the slow blowjobs, the very gentle sex, the nipple-play, spitroasting Peter with the dildo (that Master seemed to hate but hadn't thrown out for reasons unknown), licking and kissing each other's necks and mouths, even very delicate handjobs, fingering. At this point, he was going to try gluing or taping the gag dildo and the insertable together and having them both work on them with mouths and then holes together, because he genuinely didn't know what else to do.
It was torture, not being able to come but having to fuck multiple times a day, because they needed Master to fuck them. It was an irrefutable truth.
A long time ago, when Peter and Matt had been very young, they had doubted that they needed to be fucked by their master. To be fair, they were young enough that they hadn't been quite old enough to enjoy it yet, but it had been a lesson hard-learned. And now they both understood it in total: they needed to be fucked by Master. They were anxious and high-strung and exhausted with all the twitchy worrying they were doing--if Master even wanted them, if they were performing correctly, if they were too much filthy sluts who were only good for licking shoes and drinking piss to be even worth fucking.
But the thing was, Matt could tell that Master liked some of what they had done. He had liked when Matt had sat, legs spread, and gently held Peter's head done, murmuring that he was such a good boy and had a good tongue and knew how to use it, didn't he, oh yes he did, ahhh that felt so good, and when Matt had fingered Peter slowly open with far more lube than was strictly necessary and told him how tight and hot and good he was, how well he'd milk his cock, and then Peter rode him and Matt told Peter that he loved him and never wanted to be away from him, not ever again.
Master had liked the very slow blowjob Peter had done too, the delicate little licks like Matt's cock was the best thing he'd ever tasted, and Matt eating Peter out, making loud appreciate noises while Peter sobbed out how good it was.
Master had not liked some of the things--Peter using his mouth on the dildo-gag, Peter or Matt holding down one another's wrists, or Matt fucking Peter's face anything but slow and careful. It was torture, but they could improve. Sooner or later they'd hit upon the right thing, and then Master would be happy with them. He hadn't hit them once yet and told Matt and Peter the food was good every day, so it was just the sex that they hadn't gotten right yet.
--
Frank sighed to himself as he found a pamphlet with hotline numbers, and pulled up next to an alley with nobody else, and called.
"Hello, I'm Amelie, how can I help you with your slave?" A bright, bubbly fake voice chirped.
"They will not stop fucking," Frank snarled. He had nobody else to talk about this with. He didn't want anyone else knowing about Matt and Peter and carting them off to be hideously raped by the fucking cops and then thrown onto the open market and bought and hurt by more trash.
"Sir? Do they have sex at inappropriate times, or on furniture? Is that the problem?"
"No, they're always on the floor, but jesus fucking christ, they will not stop having sex in front of me. It's constant; every time I get up to do literally anything, there they are, going at it like Catholic bunnies."
"Have they been coming without permission as well all these times, sir?" The voice answered, and Frank had a bad feeling about this. He thought about it and realized that they had never once orgasmed in his hearing or sight, which was strange, and said "No."
"Well, that's a plus," the voice chirped. "Well, to stop errant slaves from behaviours you don't appreciate, we of course recommend punishment. Physical discipline reinforced by rewards when they behave is the best way to ensure a happy household all around."
Frank resisted the urge to snap the burner phone clean in half. It wouldn't help, anyway. "I'm not going to smack two kids for--trying to make me happy, or whatever it is they're aiming for."
"Sir? Have you fucked them yourself?"
"No. How is that relevant."
"Well, sir, slaves require regular fucking from owners, in order to help them understand their place, feel secure, and perform their duties. A great way to reward a slave is with more lubricant and/or orgasm during fucking. If you haven't fucked them, they may be attempting to entice you into fucking them. If you're not discipling them or otherwise establishing yourself as their owner, this may be an explanation of why they're so badly out of hand. Of course, if you wish to withhold it as a disciplinary measure or for other reasons, we do offer a range of products to help with your efforts."
"What."
"We have many chastity products, though depending on the genitals of the slaves and whether you think castration is an option you're interested in, some would work more appropriately than others. Of course, you can always train the desire for sex out of them with aversion conditioning, and to that end we offer a range of slave-veterinarian-certified shock collars--"
Frank threw the burner out the window and shot it twice. He couldn't listen to more of this trash.