The Frat Couch (Commission)

(Contains: M/M, face-sitting, face-farting, rimming, body odour, kidnapping, unaware, human furniture, use of slurs, humiliation and non-consent.) 

I wake up to a chipped, white ceiling. I can’t even tell what kind of room I’m in, nor can I move to check. My whole body is constricted—tied up, if the pressure across my chest and calves is anything to go by—but the worst is my face. Something soft is encircling my head from under my chin around to my scalp, making moving my head impossible. The last thing I remember was meeting up with a guy—some frat boy closet case I found on a dating app. He seemed nice, if a little repressed. He offered to pick me up. I guess that seemingly sweet gesture turned out to be a warning sign, because getting into that car is the last thing I remember.

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