Chapter 165: Bound and Used as the Toll -6

The third car pulled up near dawn.

Gray light had just begun to bleed across the deadlands when the sound reached Kael.

His body had gone past ordinary exhaustion. The welts on his back and ass had settled into a deep, hot throb.

His knees felt locked in place. The collar had rubbed a raw line into the side of his throat.

Between his legs he was still hard - sore, oversensitive, the long denial having turned into something that felt carved into him.

A single vehicle rolled to a stop. One man stepped out.

He was broad, younger than the last, with a heavy pack and the kind of stare that didn’t flinch from what it saw.

He looked at Kael the way a man looks at something already bought and paid for.

The Tollkeeper met him in the open dirt.

"Toll."

He paid his toll with a can of fuel. Then demanded what it would take to use the bounded Kael

He paid the extra price for use - ammunition, a sealed packet of painkillers.

The Tollkeeper inspected both, nodded once, and gave the same terms as before.

"You can use his hands and mouth only. No new marks unless I allow it. He doesn’t come. You stop when I say."

The man agreed without words.

He walked straight to Kael, gripped his hair, and tilted his head back.

For a moment he simply looked at the wrecked state of him - glassy eyes, chapped lips, the flush that still sat high on his cheekbones despite the cold.

Then he freed his massive cock and pushed it into Kael’s mouth in one steady slide.

Kael gagged around the sudden thickness. The man held him there, letting his throat work, before beginning a deep, unhurried rhythm.

Every thrust forced Kael forward until the collar chain snapped taut and kept him from taking any more.

The man used that limit, fucking into the resistance, one hand locked in Kael’s hair to control the angle.

At the same time he reached down and wrapped a rough fist around Kael’s cock.

The stroke was tight, almost punishing, dragging from base to head with deliberate friction.

Kael’s hips jerked. A broken sound vibrated around the cock in his mouth. The man only gripped harder and kept the same relentless pace - deep in his throat, tight on his cock - until Kael’s thighs shook and tears of strain ran clean tracks through the dirt on his face.

The Tollkeeper watched in silence from a few paces away.

When the traveler finally came it was with a low, guttural sound, holding Kael’s head in place while he emptied himself down his throat.

Kael swallowed convulsively, hiyeyes streaming and his cock still trapped in that merciless fist.

The man stroked him through it - three, four, five firm pulls that dragged Kael right to the edge - then released him completely and stepped back.

Kael swayed in the chains, mouth open, spit and come streaking his chin, cock dark and dripping and once again denied.

The traveler fixed his clothes, nodded once to the Tollkeeper, and left. The engine faded into the gray morning until the deadlands were quiet again.

The Tollkeeper walked over. He unlocked the ankle restraints first, then the wrists. Last, he unclipped the chain from the post and removed the collar.

The sudden freedom made Kael’s head swim. He stayed on his knees because standing felt impossible.

"That’s enough," the Tollkeeper said.

"Your toll’s fully paid now. You can go."

Kael’s throat worked. He could still taste the last man. His cock throbbed in the cold air, so hard it hurt.

The welts across his body pulsed with every heartbeat.

Freedom sat right in front of him and all he could feel was the hollow ache of being left unfinished.

He didn’t stand.

The Tollkeeper waited, expression unreadable.

Kael’s voice came out wrecked, barely above a whisper.

"Please."

"Please what."

"Fuck me." The words scraped raw out of him. "I need - please. Let me come. I can’t... I need you inside me. Please."

Silence stretched. The Tollkeeper’s eyes moved over him - the marks, the trembling muscles, the desperate state of his cock, the way he remained kneeling even though nothing held him there anymore.

Then he said, quiet and absolute, "Get on your hands and knees."

Kael obeyed.

The dirt was cold under his palms. He felt the Tollkeeper move behind him, heard the soft sound of gloves being removed, then the unmistakable slick of oil.

A single finger pressed between his ass cheeks and pushed inside without preamble. Kael’s breath left him in a broken rush.

The finger worked him open with slow, thorough strokes, adding a second when the resistance eased, scissoring, stretching, pressing deep enough to brush the spot that made Kael’s arms nearly give out.

"Show me how much you want this," the Tollkeeper murmured. He added a third finger. The burn and the pressure dragged a raw sound out of Kael’s chest. "Louder."

"Please..." Kael’s voice cracked. "Please fuck me. I need it. I need you. Please let me come..."

The fingers withdrew. The blunt head of the Tollkeeper’s cock pressed against him, thick and hot and unyielding.

He pushed in with one long, controlled thrust that forced Kael open around every inch.

The stretch was brutal, perfect, overwhelming. Kael cried out with his arms shaking and forehead dropping toward the dirt.

The Tollkeeper didn’t give him time to adjust. He set a deep, punishing rhythm, hands locked on Kael’s hips hard enough to bruise, dragging him back onto every thrust.

The sound of skin on skin filled the quiet morning. Every stroke dragged across the place inside Kael that made his vision go white at the edges.

His cock hung heavy and untouched between his legs, swinging with the force of the fucking, leaking steadily onto the dirt.

"You don’t come until I say." The Tollkeeper’s voice was rough now, edged with his own control. He fucked into him harder, angling to hit that spot on every stroke.

"Beg for it."

Kael’s words dissolved into broken, desperate sounds - please, please, I need it, fuck, please let me - while his body rocked forward with every thrust.

The Tollkeeper reached under him, wrapped a fist around his cock, and stroked in time with his hips.

The dual sensation ripped a raw shout from Kael’s throat. He was right there-at the edge of cummin - shaking apart, every muscle locked.

"Not yet."

The hand disappeared. The Tollkeeper fucked him through the denial, deep and relentless, until Kael was sobbing with need, his arms were barely holding him up.

Only when Kael’s voice had gone completely wrecked did the Tollkeeper lean over him, chest to the marked skin of his back, and speak against his ear.

"Come."

His fist closed around Kael’s cock again and stroked once, twice, tight and exact.

Kael broke.

The orgasm tore through him so hard his vision blacked out at the edges.

He came in thick, pulsing ropes across the dirt, body convulsing around the cock still buried deep inside him.

The Tollkeeper fucked him through it - slow, deep strokes that dragged every last shudder out of him - then buried himself to the hilt and came with a low, guttural sound, filling him in hot pulses.

They stayed like that for several long seconds, both breathing hard. Then the Tollkeeper eased out.

Come slicked the insides of Kael’s thighs. He collapsed onto his side in the dirt, his body was still twitching with aftershocks, completely spent.

The Tollkeeper stood, fixed his clothes, and looked down at him.

"Get up when you can walk. Take the road. Don’t come back this way unless you’re ready to pay again."

Kael managed a single nod. His voice was gone.

He lay there in the dirt as the Tollkeeper walked back to the shack and closed the door.

The morning wind moved across his oversensitive skin. In the distance the deadlands stretched gray and endless.

Eventually he pushed himself to his knees, then to his feet. His legs shook. Come and sweat and dirt covered him. The marks on his body would last for days.

He took one step. Then another.

The only safe road lay open in front of him.

He walked.