@aurumcelest Sorry for the delay! Please enjoy this wet dream that Lion has about reader :D
I am currently on hiatus due to school. Thank you for your understanding <3
“Olivier.”
That voice. It sounds so familiar.
“Baby, wake up.”
That soft, lilting voice calls out to him again, swirling in his ears, his head, until his eyes flutter open to reveal his sleep hazed gaze. The sight that greets him makes him rouse to wakefulness.
“You-” Olivier’s voice tapers off as you lean over him, your hair falling around his head and creating a cocoon around the two of you. “What…” His hands reach up to touch your face, jerking to a stop barely an inch from where he has them laid, and he looks up at them, confused. Only to find that red rope, the same red rope he has in his secret closet, binds his wrists to his bedposts, keeping them pinned high above his head.
“Can’t have you running before I’m done with you, my pet,” you purr against his lips, your nails scraping down his bare, furred chest. “But when I’m done with you, you’ll barely have the energy to move.”
Fuck. Fuck, that sounds so hot. Olivier gulps and nods tremulously, his lips dry and his tongue heavy as he whimpers, “Yes. Yes, please.”
A dark chuckle falls from your lips and directly onto his, followed up by a thin trail of saliva as you lick his lips. “Are you horny, pet?”
“Yes.”
“Louder.”
“Yes! Yes, I’m so horny for you, madame,” he moans, bucking his hips and feeling your smaller form bounce atop him. “Please, touch me.”
Your delighted smile sends shivers down his spine and heat through his pelvis, hardening his already thickened cock until it presses hard against your inner thigh. He bucks against you, biceps bulging as he fights against the insanely strong rope holding him down.
“Please,” he whispers.
“Touch you where?” Your voice takes on a dark, sultry tone. Like a sensual touch that he can hear but can’t feel. “Your face?” Silken fingers press against his rough cheek, sliding gently over his jaw, his lips, parting them with barely any effort to slide them inside his welcoming mouth. “Your tongue?” His lips close around your finger, sucking them, trapping them inside his mouth, keeping them there as he worships the digit as he would your pussy.
Alas, you take it away far too soon. “Or perhaps your chest?” Your hands dig into his meaty pecs, raking through the thick curls upon his skin. They massage his flesh mindlessly, squeezing and kneading and plucking at his sensitive nipples until he’s heaving for breath.
“Ah, but I know you, Olivier,” you murmur into his ear, nipping it sharply to elicit the smallest of gasps from his lips. “I know where you want me.”
“Yeah?” His voice is thin, breathy. Like he’s struggling to speak through the sensations clouding his mind.
“Yeah.” You flick your hair behind you and rear up, sitting flush across his hips like a queen upon her ever willing throne. Your thighs are stretched wide across his hips, your knees just barely pressing against the bed and your pussy, bare, wet, and oh so salivating, is pressing against the shaft of his cock like the biggest tease in the world.
His eyes are glued to that incredible sight. The view of your perfect pussy lips spreading across his thick cock, straining and thick and red in contrast to your skin. He looks massive against your lips, your clit just barely peeking over the flared head of his cock.
You move ever so slightly, shifting your hips forward and sending your slick pussy sliding over him, spreading your pussy juices all over. “Mm, my eyes are up here, pet.”
“U-uh.” Olivier blushes and tears his eyes away from that drool-inducing sight, though not for long as his gaze flutters between that, your perfect breasts, and those clear eyes that make him want to melt beneath you. “I-”
A little smug laugh escapes you at his stuttering, causing your breasts to bounce and your pussy to shift on his needy cock. “Such a slut. Such a needy, desperate slut.” You wrap your hand gently around his neck without putting any pressure and smile. “You want me to move, slut? Want me to grind on your cock until you’re begging to be inside me?”
Olivier can’t stop the nodding of his head. “Yes. Yes, a thousand times yes, madame,” he whines, arching his back and wriggling his hips. Trying and failing to rut against you with the odd heaviness of his body.
You laugh once more, rocking your hips gently with your hands now planted on his beefy chest instead of his throat. “Oh, I love it when you get desperate, Olivier. I love it when you let that inner slut out just for me.” The slick sounds of your pussy grinding on his cock send him wild. The harder you grind on him, the louder he moans. The faster you move, the more he bucks his hips.
In a way, he begs with his body. Begs you to go faster, rougher, harder, to use him as you please even as he finds himself tongue-tied. His cock is drenched now, he can feel it. He can feel your clit rasping over the head of his cock and the way your pussy entrance catches on the head as you slide back down. “Merde!”
“Mmm, did you like that?” You tilt your head with a smile, repeating the action and this time allowing him to press into you ever so slightly. His cockhead is big enough that you’re straining to stretch over it, making the press slow, steady, yet your slick makes the slide tolerable. For you, anyway. For Olivier, the slow push is as torturous as anything he’s ever experienced.
“Merde, fuck, please-” He gasps and squeezes his eyes closed. Desperate to ignore the burning in his gut, the lust flaring in his cock and his veins. To dampen the incredible sensations that threaten to take over his entirety. “Madame-!”
“I don’t hear any begging, Olivier,” you whisper, taking your weight as well as your pussy off him.
Olivier sobs and falls back onto the bed from where he’s been straining upwards. “This is torture.”
Dark laughter greets his ears, ringing in his head like a bell. “Torture? You don’t know the half of it, my greedy slut,” you purr against his chest. “You want torture? I’ll give you torture.”
And so it began, your cycle of stroking his cock with your pussy, your hands, your mouth. Of stroking him to the very edge of orgasm and then stopping. Of teasing him mindless with such expertise that he can’t help but whimper and whine and go speechless with lust. Your small hands are tiny in comparison to his cock, your fingers unable to touch even when you grip with all your might. His cock, now slick with your pussy juices and saliva, slips easily as you stroke and squeeze.
His sounds, humiliating and desperate and wet, fill the air along with his rough panting and the slick sounds of precum sticking to his foreskin. With every edge, Olivier’s desperate moans grow louder. With every edge, he becomes more sensitive. With every edge, his voice becomes thicker. Soon, he is begging you to sit on him. To ride his cock. To use him until he is ruined and wrecked.
“You want me to use you, slut?” You’re panting now, a hand on his throat and the other braced upon his chest as you get back to rutting your clit against the head of his cock. Riding him as though you have him inside you. “Want me to use you as a toy to get me off, hm? Use your cock to cum and cum and cum and not let you orgasm at all?”
“Yes! Yes, yes, yes,” Olivier growls and strains. “Please!”
“Please what?”
“Please use me!”
You laugh huskily down at him. “Do you wanna cum, Olivier?”
“Yes!” He cries out. “Please let me cum. Madame. Madame, please-”
“Okay.” You grin, moving up onto one foot so you can brace yourself above his red hot cock. “You ready for it?”
“Yes, yes I’m so ready.” His whimpers grow weaker.
“Don’t close your eyes, my Olivier,” you purr out, angling his cock right at your sopping wet pussy. “Don’t close your eyes.”
“I won’t,” he whispers.
His cockhead spreads your pussy lips. Thick, hot, and utterly unyielding. Pressing in further, deeper, until you finally let him sink within you. Olivier gasps with wide, unseeing eyes as he sinks deep inside you, grasped so heavenly by your incredible warmth. Yet, his lids grow heavy, threatening to close so he can lose himself in the orgasm that threatens to slip forth.
“Don’t close your eyes.”
“Madame-” He’s going to cum.
“Open your eyes, Olivier.”
“Madame-!” He’s cumming!
“Olivier, wake up!”
Fuck! He ratchets up in his bed, his chest heaving as he takes in huge gulps of breath. His hand is wrapped around his throbbing, cumming cock, squeezing with a vice grip as globs of cum slip out. The blanket over his lap is already soaked through with cum and precum, forming the biggest wet spot he’s ever seen.
“Olivier!” It’s you!
“I’m awake!” He yells out, more grateful than ever that he’s got a bunk to himself. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
You sigh through the door and knock a couple more times. “Come on, we’ve got drills this morning. Get your butt up and moving before Gustave has our asses!”
Olivier swears under his breath and wipes up the mess quickly. “I’ll be right there, go ahead.” Please don’t come in.
“Fine. But hurry up!” And the next thing he hears is your footsteps as you walk away briskly.
Now alone, he falls back into bed with a groan and a palm over his face. Fuck, this crush is getting way out of hand.
Imagine catching your sub getting themselves off, so you make them ride your thigh until they cant cum anymore. Once they’re crying, you fuck them stupid telling them how much of a whore they are and how the only thing they’re good at is cumming…
Again, I don’t really have a prompt that inspired this / goes with it, but I wrote it like a week and a half ago and it’s just been sitting in my files ever since
So idk, enjoy some random porn~
The scenario is this:
Steve is lounging in bed after some quality time spent on Daddy’s cock. Maybe Bucky went to take a shower after bathing his boy, or maybe he’s cleaning up their mess from playtime. Doesn’t matter, either way, Steve was left alone–maybe because Bucky thought he’d fallen asleep–and now Bucky is coming to join him again.
He thinks he’ll crawl in bed with his baby, hold him for a while, maybe nap with him. But when he walks into the room, he realizes none of that will happen. Because his boy is awake, and showing Daddy that he needs more attention.
Steve is on his back, sucking on a lollipop. Candy is probably part of his aftercare–something sweet for Daddy’s sweet boy–and when Steve falls asleep before he can have his treat, Daddy always leaves it for him on the nightstand. Today’s treat is that lollipop and Steve is suckling on it slowly, ever a boy in need of something in his mouth.
But that’s not what has Bucky’s attention. Because while his boy from the waist up is beautifully innocent, it’s the opposite from the waist down. His shirt–Daddy’s shirt, which he was put in after his bath–is rucked up high on his waist, and his legs are butterflied open, bringing attention to the limp little cock nestled there.
It never ceases to amaze Bucky, how Steve can embody such innocence and debauchery all at once. But somehow, his boy manages it, and the results are absolutely bewitching.
He thought he was satisfied for the moment; his need to play sated by their earlier activities. But seeing his boy like this, the hunger that gnaws at his insides makes him feel like he hasn’t touched Steve in days.
Blue eyes are on him as soon as he’s in the room, but his boy doesn’t say a word. Just suckles his lollipop and watches silently as Bucky approaches the bed. He sits down on the edge of the mattress, beside Steve’s reclining form.
Steve’s expression is placid, but at his Daddy’s smile, he makes a soft little noise and suckles on his lollipop harder. His exposed cock twitches. That’s all it ever takes; just Daddy’s attention and that gorgeous little cock will harden.
Slowly, so his boy will know what he’s doing, Bucky takes the lollipop from him. He replaces it with his thumb immediately, so Steve doesn’t even have time to whine at having his mouth emptied. With a soft, satisfied little noise, his boy takes his thumb and suckles on that instead. His eyes grow softer, hazier. He needs something in his mouth, but nothing brings him more satisfaction than sucking on his Daddy.
If Bucky let him nurse in this moment, his boy would be lost completely. The thought is there, and part of him wants to do it. But no, not now. His baby boy is asking him for something, and Bucky will give it to him.
There’s a glass bowl on their bedside table, put there for exactly this reason. Bucky lays the lollipop in it for his boy to enjoy later. Finally, when he looks back at Steve, he breaks the silence.
“Hi, baby.”
He reaches to tuck a strand of hair behind a delicate ear. Steve’s eyelashes flutter at the touch, giving another soft little noise. Bucky doesn’t take his thumb away to make him answer, and so his boy doesn’t.
There are…flavors to Steve’s submission. It is total, yes–Steve is not a boy who knows how to be a brat. He craves to be mastered too much for it. In a dominant presence, he is perfectly sweet and malleable. But his submission is not always the same.
There are moods. Variants.
Bucky has discovered each one, cataloged them to know and understand what his boy needs and when. Each variation is addicting in its own way, and Bucky thinks that’s probably because he finds Steve addicting as a whole.
This mood–this variation–is a special one. It’s one of the variations where his boy is at his most docile, and one of the variations where he’s mostly nonverbal. In those headspaces, he usually communicates his needs through body language, through expressions, and through noise; little whines and cries to show Daddy how needy he is.
But in this particular one, he won’t even whine to express his hunger. Bucky could edge him for hours and he still wouldn’t beg for relief; he’d just take it.
Steve’s shown him what he wants, and now he’ll wait to see what his Daddy will do. He’ll wait for as long as it takes, and he won’t wriggle or squirm or whine in the meantime. He’ll stay just like this; perfectly still and perfectly docile.
Bucky smiles at him softly, tenderly. His boy suckles harder on his thumb. A glance at his exposed little cock shows it flushed a truly gorgeous shade of pink, and quickly hardening. Just as Bucky thought.
He looks at his boy again.
“You feel good, don’t you, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice just as soft and tender as his smile.
Another of those little noises, so quiet that Bucky wouldn’t be able to hear it if the room weren’t otherwise silent. Slowly, Steve nods. Just once. His expression doesn’t shift, and his big blue eyes stay rapt on Bucky’s face. He hardly even blinks.
“I bet,” Bucky murmurs. “You always feel good after Daddy gives your little hole attention, don’t you, baby? And I gave it a lot of attention today. Daddy made it nice and sore, just the way it craves, isn’t that right?”
Another noise, another slow nod. His boy’s eyes on him, innocent and hungry all at once. That little cock now flushed deeper, a gorgeous red. It’s fully hard now, and from nothing but this. A thumb in his mouth, Bucky’s attention, a few words said in the right tone.
Steve is so easy like this. It’s one of Bucky’s favorite things about him, how easy it is to get him hard when he’s already feeling like a boy. He never needs to be touched, only needs Daddy’s attention.
And just because he likes that about his boy, Bucky’s waited until now to touch that perfect little cock. It’s now straining toward him, begging for attention. Once he sees it, Bucky moves his hand between Steve’s spread thighs.
He wanted to watch his boy’s cock get hard for him untouched, but now that it is, he can’t keep himself away. With a gentle, light touch, he runs the back of his finger slowly up and then back the short length.
Steve doesn’t move at all. He lays there and allows himself to be touched. Still so quiet and docile, it’s almost like he doesn’t register the touch. The only thing giveaway is the hungry way he sucks his Daddy’s thumb, the glassy sheen to his eyes, the way that little cock throbs under his touch.
God, but he’s perfect.
It hits Bucky again, just how fucking lucky he is to have this boy. His submission is beautiful, and so fucking humbling. The fact that Bucky is the one allowed to dominate this boy, that Steve chose him as his Daddy–it’s a heady thing, that knowledge.
This boy is his. Bucky owns every inch of him, from his soft hair down to his painted toenails. And it’s all because Steve allows it. He could have anyone, and yet he still chose Bucky.
Not that anyone would be worthy of Steve; Bucky doesn’t even think he’s worthy, most days. This boy is too sweet for the likes of him. But he’ll selfishly, jealously keep him for as long as Steve wants to be kept.
“You’re such a good little boy,” Bucky whispers, because he can’t help it. Because he knows what it does to Steve to hear those words, and Bucky wants to make him feel good. Doting on his boy is his main priority in life.
The noise Steve makes then is a little louder, and lasts a little longer. He still doesn’t move, but Bucky looks down, a little pearl of precum has formed on the swollen tip of his boy’s cock.
He wants to lean down and lick it up, but if he does, he’ll be derailed. He’ll forget to ask what it is his baby boy is craving, and he needs to know. It’s an effort to take his gaze away from such a pretty sight, but he finally manages it.
It takes a little longer for him to remember what he was saying. Steve is alluring and distracting in any state, but especially one like this.
“Your little hole needs Daddy’s attention a lot, doesn’t it, baby?” He says, keeping his voice low, cajoling. “But sometimes, when your little hole is especially needy, like it was today, some things get neglected.”
He glances down again, unable to help himself. Watching his knuckle glide over the underside of that pretty cock.
“Like your little cock,” he continues, looking back up at Steve. “It doesn’t need as much attention as your hole. But it still needs Daddy’s attention, doesn’t it, baby?”
It takes Steve longer to answer this time, because he’s already been mastered, totally and completely. He’s fucking exquisite like this.
Finally, slowly, he nods.
Another smile stretches across Bucky’s lips, this one knowing.
“Is that why you’re showing it off, baby boy?” He asks gently. “Did your little cock get lonely while Daddy played with your hole? Does it need Daddy’s attention now, too?”
Another slow nod.
“What kind of attention does it want, hmm? Does it want Daddy to make it feel good, or does it need Daddy to hurt it?”
Slowly, so his boy knows it’s coming, Bucky takes his thumb out of Steve’s mouth. Steve allows it silently; doesn’t whine or chase after it, trying to get it back. Another noticeable difference between this headspace and others. He’s so fucking docile, he won’t even cry at having his favorite things taken away. Whatever Bucky gives him or denies him, he just accepts. Sweetly, silently, obediently.
It’s a headspace that brings out the darker lusts in Bucky, the moods that urge him to possess his boy in every way. The more submissive Steve is, the more Bucky wants to dominate him, and roughly. He always has to tread carefully when his boy makes him feel like this.
“I know it’s hard to talk when you feel like this, baby,” he murmurs. “But you have to answer Daddy now. Just this once, and then Daddy won’t make you talk anymore. Can you do that for me?”
Steve nods again. He licks his lips, hesitating. It takes several quiet moments, and many uneven breaths before he whispers, “Both, Daddy. Please?”
Smiling, Bucky leans forward and kisses his forehead. He takes Steve’s cock into his hand, stroking it as he whispers, “Good boy.”
Steve’s breath comes faster now, heavier. His eyes are brimming with adoration, worship, as he looks up at Bucky. He lays still and silent as his cock is played with.
God, Bucky wants to wreck him.
“Daddy is going to go get some toys for us to play with,” he murmurs. “Toys that’ll help give your little cock the attention it needs. I want you to stay just like this, do you understand? Don’t move at all.”
He doesn’t need to threaten punishment. Steve isn’t prone to squirming in this state. In truth, Bucky probably didn’t even need to give this order; Steve would’ve mostly likely stayed like this, anyways. But he’s too pretty like this, too perfect, for Bucky to risk it. He wants this vision–his beautiful boy, debauched and exposed, that perfect little cock hard and straining for him–to greet him when he comes back.
Bucky waits for Steve to nod, and then, with another kiss and a squeeze to the cock in his hand, he leaves. They keep many toys in their bedrooms–all of his boy’s favorites–but there are some ideas in Bucky’s mind that require leaving the bedroom entirely.
Once he has everything collected and set out, he looks back to his boy. The vision that greets him is exactly what he wanted. His baby boy, waiting so patiently, that same serene expression on his face. He’s so relaxed, laying against the pillows. And there’s that little cock, still hard and waiting for him to come play with it.
Bucky wants to keep Steve like this. He could. In this state, Steve would only nod and stay just like that for as long as Daddy wanted. Bucky would come back to him every once and a while, play with that pretty cock to make sure it stayed hard, and then leave his boy with a kiss on the forehead and soft words of praise. Steve wouldn’t move the entire time; he’d stay still and quiet, just like he is now.
But that game is for another time.
He sits down on the edge of the bed again, picking up Steve’s hand and setting a small bell in it. It’s what they use when Steve is like this—in a headspace where he’s nonverbal.
“Do you remember this, sweetheart?” Bucky asks. When Steve nods, he continues, “Show Daddy what you do if something happens that you don’t like.”
Obediently, Steve shifts the bell in his hand and then rings it. His gaze immediately goes back to Bucky as he does, waiting for Daddy to show him he did right. Always hungry for reassurance and praise.
Bucky takes hold of his cock again, giving it two slow strokes as he kisses Steve’s forehead.
“That’s a good boy,” he murmurs. “You can still use your safeword. Daddy will always listen to that, no matter what. But if you want to stop and you still can’t speak, you ring that bell for me, okay? Can you do that, baby?”
Steve nods obediently, and gets rewarded for it again.
Then, Bucky smiles and whispers, “Let’s play, sweetheart.”
He doesn’t know how long he dedicates to playing with his boy’s cock. Minutes blend together, time seeming to go too quickly and not quickly enough at the same time.
He uses his hand first, bestowing pleasure and pain with just that—stroking him gently, then too tightly, letting go to slap his little cock and his balls when the urge strikes–watching his boy’s reactions with each, seeing what he craves the most and then giving it to him more. When Steve comes from that, Bucky leans over and takes Steve’s sensitive cock into his mouth, sucking on it sweetly while his boy makes those hurt little noises in his throat.
He uses a wand, a flesh light, a velvet glove. He takes ice from a metal cup and glides it along his boy’s cock and over his balls, until the skin is chilled, and then he takes it into the heat of his mouth.
It’s that last one that seems to partially break his boy out of his doll-like state. Up until that point, Steve has taken everything so beautifully still, and mostly silent; only soft little noises and heavy breathing to show he’s affected.
Bucky doesn’t know if it’s because of how long they’d been at it by that point or if it was the act itself, but when he uses the ice cubes for the first time, Steve cries out raggedly. The second time, he claws at Bucky’s shoulders with one hand. The other hand still clutches the bell tightly, though, and so Bucky doesn’t stop. In fact, he repeats the process again and again just because of that reaction.
Most of the pain, Bucky bestows through light slaps to his cock and overstimulation. It’s the pain his baby boy prefers. He employs it less and less as the evening goes on, until he doesn’t have to at all, because even the pleasure hurts.
When that happens, Bucky stretches out beside Steve, tucking his body close. He takes his boy’s hard, hurting cock into his hand and gently strokes.
“Just one more, baby,” he whispers. “One more, and we’re all done.”
Steve blinks up at him hazily. He’s trembling, his lips parted on soft, shaky breaths. Tears cling to his lashes and stain his ruddy cheeks. The way he looks at Bucky–like Bucky is the lighthouse in a storm–is too much.
Leaning down, Bucky kisses his slack lips. He knows what his boy needs to give him this last orgasm, and it’s too easy to provide, when the words crowd his head, waiting to spill out, anyways.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs. “So perfect. You’ve been such a good little boy for Daddy tonight, baby. Showing Daddy what you needed and letting Daddy take care of you. You’re so good. Such a good little boy.”
He keeps it up, a steady rhythm on his cock while whispering soft praise between bestowing little kisses to Steve’s lips and all over his face. It takes a while, even with the praise driving Steve closer and closer to the edge. When it finally happens, his boy’s body has nothing left to give him except more tears.
Steve’s still shivering in the aftershocks when Bucky rolls him to his side. He shoves his pants down, grabbing hold of his cock. He’s shaking, too, but with need. His cock has been hard since he walked in to his baby boy showing himself off, and he hasn’t touched it this whole while. Dedicating his entire attention to Steve.
His original plan was to jack himself off when he was done, come all over that limp little cock and rub it into Steve’s skin. But those tears—those tears are always his undoing. No orgasm will satisfy him now, not unless it’s found inside his boy’s tight little hole, the taste of those tears on his tongue.
He hastily slicks himself up and slips his cock between Steve’s cheeks, rubbing the head against his baby boy’s sore little hole. His lips brush against Steve’s ear.
“Ring the bell if your little hole is too sore to play with Daddy’s cock again.”
Sluggishly, Steve shakes his head, the hand holding the bell twitching toward his chest. Hiding it, like he expects Bucky to take it from him and ring it himself. His fingers are still curled tightly around it, and no sound comes.
Bucky waits a few more seconds, and then levers himself up, looming over his boy’s lax body. Sinking into that warm, tight little hole with a deep groan. His baser desires won’t let him stop and enjoy those first few moments of connection, the way he usually does. He moves as soon as he’s inside, rutting inside his baby in short, sharp thrusts.
Fresh tears cling to Steve’s lashes, a few sliding over his cheeks. Bucky’s gut tightens, his cock throbbing inside his perfect boy.
“Is it too much, baby?” He asks. “Is that why you’re crying? Does Daddy need to stop?”
He’s almost positive that it isn’t the case, but before he can truly enjoy this moment, he has to make sure. Nothing matters more to him than his boy’s comfort and safety; he’ll always double-check, no matter how sure he feels.
Steve shakes his head, his fingers turning white with how tightly he clutches the bell. A few more tears slip out, and Bucky groans.
“No?” He says. He leans over Steve, changing his angle, his pace. Shifting into long, deep thrusts that has Steve’s breath hitching. “Then what is it, baby? Did Daddy make you feel too good?”
A slow, clumsy nod. Bucky shudders, fucking him a little harder as he bites Steve’s earlobe.
“I know,” he whispers. “That’s why Daddy loves your tears so much. I know how good I’ve made you feel when you start crying for me.”
He lets out a shuddering breath.
“Love it when you cry these pretty tears for Daddy, baby. Love making you feel good.”
There are no more words after that. Just Bucky’s deep grunts and his baby’s soft little noises, the slap of their skin together. Bucky is riveted to the sight of those tears, and each new drop drives him closer to the edge. He doesn’t want to make it last; doesn’t even try. Drawing it out was for earlier in the night, now it’s only about relieving the ache in his cock.
When he’s close, he turns Steve’s head toward him with trembling fingers, just enough so he can put his mouth to Steve’s cheek and taste his tears. A shudder wracks his body as soon as he has them on his tongue, and then he’s coming with a ragged groan.
He’s still searching out the taste of them on Steve’s skin when he starts to come down. His hips lazily moving, chasing the last shocks of pleasure.
“Good boy,” he whispers. “My good little boy. You’ve done so well tonight, baby. Always make Daddy feel so good.”
Steve makes a soft, euphoric little noise, but otherwise stays still and silent while his Daddy takes the last of what he needs.
I don’t think people realize how hard overstimulation is. I’ve been literally in pain because my muscles keep tensing bc I’m overstimulated. I can hardly eat today, or process sights and sounds. I feel like I’m unable to get things done because I physically can’t do things or else I’ll have a breakdown. It just feels like everything is too much and it’s so upsetting. My headphones are dead And that’s the worst thing to happen on a day like this. Overstimulation can just fuck up a whole day.
Today I learned purple petunias will develop an autoimmune response that attacks purple pigment if you genetically add an additional purple pigment producing gene into their genome.
If you are overstimulated by your own thought processes it is okay to stop doing those activities (at least temporarily) to readjust and try again.
◦ ok so bokuto was at a volleyball tournament for like 6 days
◦ the moment u opened the door for him he started kissing u and dragging u into the bedroom
◦ he just missed his cute puppy so much <3
you’ve been laying here for you don’t even know how long. your thighs are shaking and bokuto has to hold them apart, to keep eating his cute little puppy out. “k-kou” you put your hands in his hair as you felt you 4th? 5th?, you’ve lost count, orgasm building. “ ‘m gonna cum kou g-gonna cum again fuck !” you said. “come on puppy come again for me” you came with a loud moan but bokuto didn’t give you any rest. “my good puppy can handle some more, right?”
Falling in love with Jeon Jungkook was everything you’ve ever dreamed of and more, but maybe it was exactly that: a dream so blissful and comforting that it was too good to be true, something that could all disappear when the night changes to day, and your eyes open again.
Or, making a marriage pact with your best friend was supposed to instill a sense of hope for you, so why does this hurt you more than it should?
—pairing: jeon jungkook | female reader —genre: one-shot, college au, friends to lovers au —length: ~13.1k —rating: 18+ —contains: angst, explicit smut (pet names, dirty talk, fingering, marking, cum-eating, overstimulation, penetrative soft sex), alcohol consumption, brief moments of underaged drinking, slow burn, mutual pining, feelings of inadequacy, strong language. —soundtrack: “lost stars” by jungkook (cover) | “night changes” by one direction | “never not” by lauv | …and more!
author’s note: my inspiration has jumped around a lot since I first started writing this fic, but I can confidently say that jungkook’s cover of “lost stars” was my main source of inspiration and has tremendously helped me solidify the events in this fic. not to mention his cover of this gorgeous song always makes me cry! I’m really glad I get to express my love for it in a different medium.
I also want to thank @jungkxook for letting me scream into her dms about this concept and for not saying anything while I clown myself for crawling back to my first love jungkook after I vowed to become a taehyung ult <3 I hope you guys enjoy the read! please let me know what you think!
Throughout your short time on Earth, you find it hard to choose a memory that’s worth holding close to your heart. Sure, there were the golden days of your youth up until you started expanding your guileless horizon at the tender age of seven, but when the best moments of your life were the ones you don’t remember, it just didn’t make sense to count them.
You doubt that anyone in their right mind would think fondly back to their days of youth, and if they did, those greatest memories definitely didn’t take place in school. Who would want to look back at the time that their classmate bullied them out of taking the last swing on the playground, or that one embarrassing thing they did in fifth grade, or when the popular kids would make fun of an aspect of someone that was out of their control?
Thanks again to the absolutely AMAZING and LOVELY @whumpcereal who has truly been a fantastic sounding board to help me get through some REALLY difficult subject matter.
This on is REALLY long, but I didn’t want to break it up and you guys not get to see Ben get a bit of aftercare after what Volkov has done to him. So, enjoy the LONG chapter.
WARNING: This chapter as well as subsequent chapters contain explicit noncon. If you prefer not to read, I’ll totally understand. Heed the tags because this gets dark. It starts IMMEDIATELY where the last chapter left off, so it’s below the cut for noncon sensitivity.
When Ben regained consciousness, the training gag was back in his mouth, tickling the back of his throat again; Volkov’s toy still buzzed inside him. Ben coughed, and the toy shifted inside, but at least the gag did not seem near as troublesome as it had been. His throat felt raw and sore, but it was nothing compared to what Volkov had done.
The blindfold over his eyes was soaked with tears. His whole body ached and, to his horror, Volkov’s hand was on his cock again. Ben let out a groan as the Russian’s palm circled him again and he tried to shift his hips to the side. His throat ached with the sound of his own hoarse voice.
“There’s my darling Malyshka. I have a feeling you’re going to need to get used to the feeling of choking on my cock.”
Ben yelped as a second vibrator was pressed against his member. Nonononononono!!! How much worse could this get? How much further could Volkov debase him?
“Did you think this was over? Oh, my sweet, innocent boy. I told you I had no intention of holding back with you today. I fully plan on us being here for a while. Now, I’ve already come inside of you twice, so I need a bit of rest. You, on the other hand, decided to be a little shit.”
Ben let out a small whimper and then bit it back. No. Be quiet. Don’t engage with him. But it hurt. Everything hurt. And what didn’t hurt was too terrible to think about.
It wasn’t long before Ben couldn’t stop the whimpers and the wiggling. He was painfully hard and had been for a long time now. Volkov kept a steady rhythm, toying and teasing him with hands, fingers, and vibrator. Ben hadn’t known that pleasure could be warped this way, that feeling good could be such a betrayal.
Ben writhed against his restraints. His legs were sore, especially his bent knees, still splayed open and chained to the edge of the bed frame. God, he wanted to stretch so fucking bad. But his body couldn’t have what it wanted. Against his will, his hips bucked wildly, and he didn’t even try to stop the movement anymore. Volkov would build up a steady rhythm, stroking him, hand going faster and faster and let Ben start fucking into his hand–Ben couldn’t help it, he couldn’t–and then he would stop, suddenly, pulling his hand away.
Over and over, Ben was left frustrated and flushed with humiliation at what he knew he’d just been doing. And each time, Ben felt his resolve, his fight, crumbling and eroding further and further away.
“Would you like to come now?” Volkov asked playfully, thumbing Ben’s slit, making him jerk with forced pleasure. “Have you changed your mind, kitten?”
Ben sobbed. He didn’t want to, not like this. But god, he knew he couldn’t hold out any longer. He nodded, utterly broken and humiliated.
“Alright, Malyshka. I think you’ve earned that and more.”
Warning bells rang in Ben’s ears. What the hell did that mean?
The ring at the base of his cock was taken off, and Ben groaned in relief. Volkov jacked him with a fast, rough pace. Ben arched his back and came hard over Volkov’s hand in a matter of seconds, the vibrator still pressed against the head of his cock. Ben sobbed with humiliation and relief as Volkov milked the last of his orgasm from him.
Suddenly, something was being secured around the head of his cock. The fucking vibrator was another ring. Ben screamed as overstimulation slammed into him. He writhed and jerked his hips, again, trying to throw the ring off.
“I told you, my little scholar, that you’ve earned this. Let’s see how many we can wring from your body.”
Ben shook his head as Volkov pressed the vibrator further inside him. He knew he was in trouble as soon as the moan escaped from his lips. Volkov turned up the frequency, and so it began.
For the next two hours, Ben’s body was nothing but Volkov’s plaything, trapped in a brutal cycle of unwanted pleasure, orgasm, and unforgiving overstimulation. Volkov pumped the vibrator in and out; he changed the setting on the cock ring so that Ben couldn’t tell when the next pulse was going to come; he punished Ben’s cock with his relentless strokes. And he counted. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Eventually, Ben lost track. He couldn’t hear Volkov’s tally. He’d retreated inside of himself, and still it wasn’t enough. By the end, he was a writhing, babbling mess.
Volkov wiped his fingers, sticky with Ben’s forced seed, down Ben’s chest before reaching to take off the blindfold so he could get a better look at Ben’s desperation. A slow, toothy smile slid onto his face at the sight of Ben’s brown eyes, pupils blown wide from exertion. “There’s my lovely boy. All fucked out, aren’t you? Had enough yet?”
Ben sobbed, desperately nodding his head. His normally floppy brown hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, and his cheeks weren’t pink–they were beet red from exhaustion, stress and need. His nostrils flared, and he sucked in air through his nose in heaving gasps.
“I bet you have at least one more inside you just for me, don’t you?”
Ben shook his head. God please let this be over!
“I think you do. You want it to stop, you have to earn it. Are you willing to earn it?”
Ben nodded as tears streamed down his cheeks.
Volkov’s already broad grin broadened even more. “Good.” He pulled the silicone training gag out of Ben’s mouth. “Show me what you learned last time. Take me all the way down.” He unlocked the chain holding Ben’s cuffed wrists to the headboard, leaving his wrists bound in front of him.
Volkov was already half hard, and he helped Ben get to his knees. Without realizing it, Ben reached for the vibrating ring around his tip; he couldn’t handle both at once. No way.
It was the wrong thing to do. Volkov struck him hard on the cheek, opening up the cut on his lip again and sending him back to the mattress. Ben yelped with the force of the blow.
Volkov grabbed his hair with one hand, unclipped the short clasp between his wrists with the other, and then wrestled Ben onto his stomach. Ben struggled weakly as his arms were manhandled behind his back and clipped back into place. Volkov dragged him back to a kneeling position, and Ben screamed as his arms were yanked up and secured to the top of the headboard. Ben whimpered as his hair was pulled back and he stared up with wide eyes at Volkov.
“I really thought you were smarter than that, Little Scholar.” They stared at each other, both panting. “Did I give you permission to do that?” Ben squirmed in his hold as the vibrator around his dick whined suddenly higher.
Volkov shook his head with his hair. “I asked you a question,” he growled dangerously.
“Nghh,” Ben gasped, shaking his head as best he could.
“All you’re meant to do right now is be my fuck toy. Do you understand?” Volkov gave his hair another viscous shake.
Ben squeezed his eyes shut and nodded furiously. How the hell had he ended up here, prisoner to this mad man?
“You belong to me.” Shake. “I own you.” Shake. “You are MINE!” Volkov screamed the last word into Ben’s ear. He knelt on the bed in front of Ben and lowered him down towards his crotch, letting his shoulders strain behind him. “You better fucking make me happy or we’ll just keep going for a few more hours. Well, you will. I’ll settle down and take a long night’s sleep and you’ll spend the night writhing with an even bigger vibrator up your ass and your cock in a cage.”
Ben whimpered as Volkov pushed his mouth on to his cock for the second time that night.
Volkov slapped him to get his attention. “Use your fucking tongue. Make it good.” Ben had never had a blow job. He actually found the idea of mouth to genital contact rather revolting. However, in this instance, his sense of self-preservation overcame his revulsion. He obeyed, using his tongue to please Volkov, lapping against Volkov’s wet tip.
Alexsei used him for several minutes straight, pushing balls deep into Ben’s mouth more than once, but he lacked the intensity that he had earlier in the evening. It was slower, more measured, to draw out Ben’s suffering. Ben wasn’t just being fucked; he had to participate, to perform. Volkov admired the clearly painful tension in Ben’s shoulders and arms, the way his hands flexed and trembled with each thrust into his mouth.
Ben’s arms ached, the muscles spasming and trembling painfully behind him. And there was always the taste and texture of Volkov on his tongue. He had no idea how to truly give a blow job, so he just kept his tongue moving, hoping desperately that it was enough. He breathed through his nose, smelling sweat and sex, but there was no thought to what he did with his mouth. He blanked his mind as best he could, his only thought, keep moving.
So he did, he flicked his tongue over Volkov’s member, swirled it around, stretched it out and pulled it back. He had no energy to hold back his tears or stifle his trembling or the small cries that left him when Volkov would yank on his hair, wanting him to change angles. At least Volkov was letting him breathe this time.
Volkov pulled out of Ben and shoved him roughly down onto the bed with his ass still in the air, body twisted so he could get access. Ben wanted to cry with relief when his wrists were freed from the head board, but he didn’t have the chance. Volkov entered him without warning, without preparation, and only one tiny cry escaped Ben as he was pounded from behind.
Ben managed to clamp down on every sound he wanted to make except pained, breathy grunts. He was doing well, until Volkov reached around his abdomen and started stroking his sore, sensitive cock. Ben jerked and writhed, now moaning as Volkov’s hand moved at a punishing pace. Volkov came again after a few minutes, and Ben, still sobbing, spilled over his hand a few minutes later.
Volkov shoved Ben to his back on the bed, holding his knees apart and playing with the head of Ben’s cock, polishing it with the palm of his hand until Ben was thrashing and screaming. Before it could fall into pleasure once again, Volkov finally released him.
He grabbed Ben by the hair, pulling his face closer and backhanding him for the third time that night. Ben slumped back to the bed sobbing, bruised, and bloody.
“Don’t you ever pull that shit with me again, you little prick.” Volkov wrapped his thick hands around Ben’s throat just above the collar. He squeezed, and Ben gasped. There was no air. “You’re fucking mine! Do you hear me? MINE!” Volkov kept squeezing. Ben saw spots, then the edges of his vision grayed out. Ben tried desperately to suck in air, but nothing could get past the constriction around his throat. He felt himself losing consciousness, slipping into darkness. Tears flowed freely from his eyes and back into his hair.
Then, everything went black.
*!*!*!*!*
Volkov stared down at the fucked out toy beneath him. Little bastard didn’t want to scream? Fine. That could be arranged. He checked to make sure Benjamin was breathing. Volkov ran his fingers along the fresh marks just coming up. He’d have a lovely ring of bruises tomorrow. He undid Ben’s cuffs and put him in the recovery position before ringing for Dmitri to carry him back to his cage.
He pulled out his phone and took a picture of Ben, and then another of Ben’s face. He made sure he documented the sweat, blood, and tears staining his face, and the filth that still stuck to the boy’s body. This way, he’d never have to forget how ruined Ben was after this first time–and neither would little Benjamin or his brother. Before putting his phone away, he took a picture of the bruising around Ben’s neck. He’d get some rest and then send these pictures to Jake in the morning.
Volkov waited for his underling to take Ben away, with the instruction that the boy’s muzzle be put back on. If Benjamin would not scream, Benjamin would not speak. Volkov then crawled back into bed and slept like a baby. It was the first time he’d been able to work out all the tension in his body in a while. Fuck, it felt good. Next time he’d consider keeping Benjamin here so that he could wake up next to him and fuck him as soon as he woke up again.
*!*!*!*!*
When Ben came to, he was still bound, hands in front of him now. He wasn’t on the soft bed anymore. Not that he wanted to be. The ring had been taken out of his mouth, but it had been replaced with the tight muzzle. He was back in his cage. Despite everything, Ben breathed a sigh of relief and lay his head down on the cold floor of the cage. It was over. It was finally fucking over.
For now, a voice in his head supplied.
Ben stretched with relief at the realization that his ankles, while chained together, were no longer strapped to his thighs. His dick throbbed painfully between his legs and his backside felt like he’d been ripped in two; the ache was so deep he felt like it might never go away. But, damn it, he survived. And he hadn’t screamed when Volkov had fucked him. Not once.
Ben smiled under his muzzle. If it was the last thing he did, Ben swore to himself that he would never scream while Volkov used him Sure, he might make Ben scream during other tortures, but not that. Never. He could do it. He could keep that one tiny piece of himself alive in this hell hole. He would.
Alone and locked away, Ben let himself cry. He’d earned it, hadn’t he? The tears pooled beneath his cheek, and still he cried. He cried for home, for his lost future, for the person he’d been only two weeks ago. He cried for Zoe, and he cried for Jake and his parents. Ben cried for himself and what had happened to him over the last two weeks, and what had just happened to him in the last few hours. He cried for what would certainly happen again.
With the exhaustion of his tears came a quiet peace. Not a relief, but a reprieve. Ben didn’t fight the sleep that pulled his eyes shut. So what if he had a nightmare. He lived in a nightmare. Sleep was a welcome disconnect from reality. And Ben welcomed it with every fiber of his being.
*!*!*!*!*
Something brushed near his cage, and Ben gasped awake with a near scream. His eyes shifted around–was it Volkov? Had he already come back for more? He wasn’t ready. Not yet.. Ben sucked in smothered breaths through his muzzle.
“Easy! Easy, Ben. It’s just me,” Andrei said from the door of Ben’s cage.
It took Ben’s eyes a moment to settle on Andrei, for him to grasp that it was justAndrei, and no one else. His chest heaved, but he couldn’t get air; he felt like he was hyperventilating. It was a far greater response than it should have been. A panic attack probably, but knowing what it was didn’t make it stop.
“Breathe, Ben. Breathe. In and out. You’re okay right now. You’re okay.” Andrei spoke calmly as he opened the door of Ben’s cage. Ben jumped and pressed himself to the back of the cage, like a frightened animal.
“Hey, easy. Okay. Okay, I’ll leave it shut. Is that okay?” Andrei closed the door and sat back on the floor.
Ben met Andrei’s eyes. They weren’t the steel gray of Volkov’s. That helped. He focused on Andrei’s gentle, soft brown eyes. He breathed through the panic. Eventually his gaze drifted down, and he could see Andrei’s mouth was moving. His breath was still frantic in his ears, and he couldn’t quite hear. But still, he kept trying to focus on Andrei’s lips, trying to focus on his words.
“In… and out… In… and out.” Andrei nodded at Ben. “You’re doing great. It’s okay. We’re not in a rush. Take your time. I’m sorry I scared you when I took the cover off. I should have warned you.”
Ben nodded. He understood him.
“Is it okay if I open your door now? You don’t have to come out yet. It’s just you and me, kid,” Andrei’s voice was soft and gentle.
Ben nodded again; he remembered his rules. Andrei held the cage door open for him, and he crawled toward it.
“You don’t have to come out yet if you need a few minutes.” Andrei sat criss-cross applesauce on the floor next to the door, arms resting casually on his knees as he waited for Ben. “I’ll tell you the plan for the morning while you get your bearings. Vol- He’ll be down later. Wanted to sleep in. He said you could too. Would you prefer to keep sleeping or get cleaned up?” Andrei frowned as he took in the sight of Ben’s battered and bruised body, his filthy skin, the blood still on his face.
Ben lay at the doorway of the cage. He didn’t know what to do. He felt gross. He knew he’d been laying in dried sweat and blood and other bodily fluids all night. He looked up at Andrei, eyes pleading to be told what he should do. Ben didn’t want to choose; that never worked out for him. Not here. Whatever Andrei decided, Ben just wanted it to involve the least amount of pain possible.
“I promise I won’t do anything without your consent first. And I swear, I’ll be as gentle as possible. But you really do need to get cleaned up. I came in early so it would just be us and no Dmitri or Ilya. Is that okay?”
Ben nodded and crawled towards him. The effort it took to move his body even this far was exhausting.
“I’m strong enough to carry you. I have everything we need at the table. Is it okay if I assist you?”
Ben collapsed on the floor in front of Andrei and nodded his consent.
Andrei was very careful as he slowly pulled Ben up. “Let me know if I’m hurting you. Okay? I’m not trying to, but I need to assess your injuries as we go.”
Ben nodded. Andrei lifted him up and swung his arm over his shoulder. He carried Ben over to the table and helped him lay down on his side. Ben was aware that Andrei turned something on, there was a whirring sound and heat started to flow over him. A heater. Andrei had turned on a heater. Ben nearly giggled as the warmth flowed over him.
“Is that better?” Andrei asked.
Ben nodded.
“Is it okay if I take off the muzzle, Ben? It’s only for a little bit. Volkov ordered that you wear it all the time, and you’re forbidden to talk.” Andrei leaned in close to him. “But he’s not here right now.”
Ben nodded again.
Andrei removed the padlock and carefully undid the buckle. “Easy, easy,” he spoke calmly as he pulled it from Ben’s face. “I’m sorry in advance for when I have to put this back on.”
“‘S’okay,” Ben replied flatly, his voice rough.
“What did you do to have him forbid you from talking?”
Ben shrugged, but a shudder ran through his body. He moved his fingers to his throat as he recalled Volkov squeezing and squeezing there. Ben clenched his eyes shut at the memory of Volkov’s eyes looking into his as he strangled him.
“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. You’re okay. He’s not here right now. You’re not there. Focus on here, okay. My voice, the table underneath you. Your heart rate, your breathing.”
Ben nodded, like he forgot he could talk for a moment.
“Is it okay if I start cleaning you up? I’d like to start with your face and then assess those bruises on your throat.”
“‘S’fine,” Ben said, voice raspy and harsh. He coughed and then winced in pain at the burn in his throat.
“You can keep your eyes closed if you want. It might help you relax.”
This time, Ben didn’t want to talk, so, again, he nodded and closed his eyes.
Andrei was true to his word and very gentle. He cleaned Ben’s face and neck with a warm sponge. His fingers were light as he probed at the bruising along Ben’s trachea.
“Ben, would you mind opening your mouth for me? I… I need to see if there’s any internal damage to your throat.” Andrei waited patiently, watching how Ben’s eyes rabbited around the room, as if her were still trying to make sure that Volkov wasn’t there. When his eyes settled back on Andrei, he nodded slowly and opened his mouth.
“Thank you, Ben. I’m going to put my hands on your chin and shine a light down your throat, okay?”
Andrei moved very slowly and paused before he touched Ben, waiting for Ben to acknowledge him. Ben opened his mouth wider in agreement. Andrei held on only as tightly as he needed to in order to steady Ben’s trembling. He shined his light down Ben’s throat and took note of the deep internal bruising that he observed there. Andrei turned the light off and Ben closed his mouth, his face flushing with embarrassment once again. Fuck that bastard. He must have been so brutal with the boy to leave bruising like that. Andrei swallowed, and not for the first time, he was grateful that he could.
“You’re going to be okay. You’ll be sore for a few days; you should conserve your voice when you can.”
Ben laughed. “L-like I h-have a ch-choice,” he rasped as he fought back tears;he’d cried enough yesterday. “W-why do you, you care anyway?” Ben’s voice was thin and unfamiliar to his own ears.
“You… well, you remind me of myself. Just a bit.”
“Volkov torture you too?” Ben couldn’t keep the hard edge of sarcasm out of his voice.
Andrei’s hands kept on. “Not physically, no. But do you think that this is what I saw myself doing when I first became a doctor?”
Ben shrugged again.
“May I move lower down your back, Ben? Some of these stitches will have to be done again, but it has to be cleaned first.”
“Fine.”
“When I was a teenager, I wanted to be a doctor.” Andrei kept his voice even as he talked. “Kids from my part of Russia don’t often have the means or ability to go to school, let alone become doctors. I was determined. I sought out every scholarship and program I could find. I got my undergraduate degree and my graduate degree, but when I was ready to go to medical school, there was nothing left. I had exhausted all my resources.”
Andrei dumped the warm water from the bucket and filled it with fresh water so he could continue cleaning.
“I heard about a brilliant philanthropist who was known to help people who were… promising. I’d worked hard to get the opportunities that I had. This was just one more thing to work hard at. It took me six months, but I finally got a face-to-face meeting with one Alexsei Volkov. He had billions at his disposal, always wore bespoke suits, and had an ear with the Kremlin. And he’d agreed to meet with me. I was a hopeful fool. I was utterly smitten with the legend of Alexsei Volkov. I bought everything he sold me, hook, line, and sinker.
“He agreed to put me through medical school, free of charge… with one small caveat: I had to come and work for him for a period of time after I graduated. He assured me I would be helping people and putting my medical degree to good use,”
Andrei paused and moved to Ben’s front. “May I clean your chest?”
Ben didn’t speak but rolled back to give him access. Andrei’s voice was calm, grounding. It was the most anyone had talked to him since he arrived here. At least the most talk which wasn’t threats and manipulation. At least he hoped this wasn’t manipulation. But what reason would Andrei have to lie?
“Anyway. It was my dream. And I would get to work with Alexsei. I willingly agreed and unknowingly signed my life away. I got my degree and had a job as well. It went well for the first year or so. Then he had me accompany him on a trip to the Philippines. It wasn’t a regular business or humanitarian trip. I… saw things. I saw Volkov do things… He made me participate and do things… Things I never thought I’d do…”
Ben giggled bitterly, still not fully processing everything. “Like helping someone that he’d fucked into unconsciousness?”
Andrei frowned. “Sort of. By the time we got back to Russia, I knew what he was. And I knew I’d never be able to leave him. He knew it too. Forced me to break up with my girlfriend. Kept me from contacting my family. I haven’t talked to them except for a five minute phone call here and there maybe three times over the last five years.”
Andrei looked at Ben as he finished cleaning his upper torso. “Like I said, do you think this is really what I wanted to be doing with my life? Volkov routinely shows me pictures of my parents, siblings, nieces and nephews. It’s not because he’s being nice. It’s a threat. He’s letting me know he knows where everyone I care about is.”
Ben swallowed. “I… I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault, Ben. Just wanted you to know why I’m here and why I care. I hate it here too,” Andrei whispered conspiratorially. “But I do what I can to help ease the suffering of those under his thumb in far worse conditions than me.”
Yeah, because helping Volkov draw out my torture and making sure I’m alert and concious is so fucking compassionate, Ben thought, bitterness coloring his view of the doctor once again.
Andrei sighed. “This is gonna be the hard part, Ben. I need to clean and inspect your lower half. If you’d like, I can start with your feet and legs.”
Ben nodded. He knew this was coming. His face flushed red with embarrassment at his condition–but then again, maybe Andrei had seen worse. Andrei changed the water again and then sponged off Ben’s feet and legs. As he got high up onto Ben’s thighs he had to change the water more frequently.
Ben was okay when Andrei was washing his feet. His breath caught slightly as Andrei cleaned the filth from his lower legs. He shut his eyes tight and felt his heart rate increase when Andrei cleaned his legs just above his knees and inspected the chaffing from the restraints that Volkov had put on him to hold him open. He bit his cheek to hold in his sob as the memories started to pour over him, through him and a soft groan escaped his lips.
“Ben, do you need a breather? I have to do the hard part now.”
Ben swallowed. “No. I can… I can do this. You won’t hurt me.”
“You sure?” Andrei rubbed at Ben’s tense calf muscles. “You seem tense.”
Ben gasped and his legs flexed at a sudden vision of Volkov rubbing his legs in a mock massage while he lay screaming and begging for him to stop from behind his gag.
“No! I’m good. I just… I fucking need this to be over!” Ben said through gritted teeth and harsh breaths. “Please.” Ben’s chest was heaving. “Please just finish.”
“Okay, like you said, I won’t hurt you, but some of this may be uncomfortable. If you need me to stop, I will.” Andrei checked his watch. “We still have time. There’s no rush.”
Ben gasped in a breath, it was stupid to be so emotional about a promise like that. But no one here had yet given him the option to say no. Andrei was holding that out to him like a lifeline. He was seen. His pain and trauma were seen. It was a small thing, but to Ben it was massive. He blinked rapidly as tears flooded his eyes.
“No. I want it over with,” Ben said, breathing slightly more calm than a few moments before.
Andrei repositioned him and started working.
Ben winced and hissed as the parts of his body that had endured the most trauma were cleaned and probed. He tried not to cry, but as the flashbacks started coming more quickly he gripped the edge of the table harder and harder. Ben squeezed his eyes shut and tried to do as Andrei told him. Focus on the feel of the table beneath him, his breathing, his heart rate, the sound of Andrei’s voice. But Andrei wasn’t talking now.
“Hey. Hey, Ben.” Andrei’s hands were on his face. “Hey, let’s take a break. It’s okay. You’re so strong. I can see it. You’re so very strong, Ben. You’re doing so good. I know this is hard. I’m so sorry that this is happening to you. Shhh. Shhh…”
It wasn’t until Andrei started shushing him that he realized he was crying, deep heaving sobs he’d been trying to hold in but that couldn’t be contained.
Andrei took his hand, and Ben gripped onto it like it was a life preserver. “You’re okay. It’s over. It’s over. You’re not in that room. You’re not in that bed. It’s okay. Shhh.”
But it wasn’t over. It might never be over. Ben knew that Volkov was going to do this again and again and a again. He was going to come in here and drag him back to that room, to that bed. He’d do what he did last night as often as he wanted. And knowing Volkov, that would be frequent and Ben wouldn’t put it past Volkov to have even more evil surprises and tortures to inflict on his Malyshka. Whatever the hell that name actually meant.
Ben’s heart was in his throat. There was no air in the room. It didn’t matter how kind Andrei was, Volkov was a monster that was going to use him in any way he wanted. This was all an illusion. Neither Ben nor Andrei had any power here.
“Breathe, Ben. Breathe. It’s okay. I’m sorry. I should have realized you were in distress. I should have stopped. I was just trying to finish and get it over with. I’m sorry.”
Ben’s hair was sweaty again. He held desperately to Andrei’s hand as he rode out his tremulous emotions.
As his breathing calmed, he kept his eyes shut but told Andrei, “Please. Please finish. I need it done.”
“Okay. I’ll finish. And then I’ll help you get rinsed off. We’ll wash your hair. It’ll be okay.”
Andrei was gentle but quick. Ben had to bite down on the leather around his wrists as Andrei examined him, and he realized Andrei was trying to see if Volkov had torn him and how badly. As Andrei moved his gloved fingers out of him, Ben let out an agonized cry that he had held in since the night before.
“Okay. All done. All done. Hard part over.”
Andrei turned from him and tossed his gloves in the garbage. The damage wasn’t too bad. Andrei was honestly surprised that it wasn’t worse. He’d seen Volkov do so much worse, and to people even younger and more defenseless than Ben. He took a moment to take a few steadying breaths himself. He fucking hated this part of his job. He hated that he knew exactly what to look for, what kind of damage Alexsei liked to inflict.
He hated that he knew Ben would be okay because that meant that Volkov would drag him back to that horrible room and do this again, and maybe worse, sooner than Andrei would like. Maybe he could buy the kid some time, but it wouldn’t be much. If the damage were worse, he could bargain for more. But fuck if Volkov didn’t learn from his past mistakes as well. Sick bastard.
He grabbed a bottle of water and handed it to Ben.
“Drink. It’ll help.” Ben sat up as best he could, shivering slightly from the fear and humiliation that kept rolling through him. He sipped on the water. It did seem to help, and Ben found that he was ravenously thirsty. He finished the bottle of water within a few minutes.
“Th-thank you,” he managed to whisper to Andrei.
“You’re welcome. Is it okay to get you rinsed off now? I’ll help you stand. You must be sore and exhausted.”
Ben nodded, wiping at the tears that still kept coming.
“It’s okay, don’t try to hold it in. I know it’s hard.”
Ben couldn’t handle it anymore. Maybe Andrei saw what other people suffered, but he had no idea what it was to be in Ben’s shoes. “Stop saying that! You don’t! You see all the medical stuff, but you don’t actually know. You don’t know what it’s like to have what he did to me done to you, for hours. Hours! I wanted him to stop. He wouldn’t stop!”
“I know. It’s what he does. You must have got angry last night. All I can say is I’ve never heard of him getting so furious that after a first time, he orders them muzzled. Hold onto that. It’s what will help you survive,” Andrei challenged.
“I-I just want it to stop,” Ben’s voice cracked with desperation, “and it’s not… It’s not going to. He’s going to do it again and I don’t want him to.”
“He is. We both know that. I’m sorry. Like I said yesterday, god, I wish I could do more. But I promise you that I will always be here afterwards to help you. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”
Ben barely heard him. “I’m so tired,” he whimpered.
“I know. Come on. Let’s get you rinsed off and your hair clean. It’s still all sweaty. You can relax, sleep even if you want. I’m not gonna touch anything that hurts for a while. I’ll have to redo your stitches, but I can give you a local anesthetic. I told you the hard part was over, and I meant it.”
Andrei helped Ben sit in a chair under the shower nozzle. He turned the nozzle away from Ben until it was warm. All the leftover bits of filth and sweat were washed away. Andrei tilted Ben’s head back, supporting the base of his skull with one hand and directing the water over his scalp with the other. Ben kept his eyes closed, and Andrei noted the almost peaceful expression on the boy’s face. He turned off the water and lathered up some soap in his hands. Ben had longish hair, especially when it was wet; Andrei combed his fingers through it, but it took a minute for Andrei to work out all the dried blood and other fluids. He massaged Ben’s scalp, knowing how much tension it might help release.
Ben didn’t talk, but Andrei watched as the boy’s breathing calmed to a slow, steady pace for the first time since he took him out of his cage. Andrei turned the water on and rinsed out the soap. Then he repeated the process. He didn’t need to, Ben’s hair was clean of all the offending material, but he knew the boy could use someone touching him that wasn’t threatening, wasn’t harmful. He needed human contact that was free of pain. And so he gave it to him. He washed Ben’s hair three times before he finally turned off the water.
He got a towel, and unlike Dmitri who liked to pull hair and hurt, Andrei was very soft as he toweled Ben’s hair dry.
“Come on Ben, let’s get you dressed. You’ll feel more like a human being once you have your clothes back on.”
“Hmm. Yeah,” Ben replied sleepily in his ragged voice.
Andrei helped him up again, and Ben leaned heavily against him as they walked back to the table. Andrei helped him get dressed and then eased him back down onto the table.
“Andrei?” It was the first time Ben had called him by name. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, Ben, what do you need?”
“What… What does Malyshka mean?” Ben lay on his stomach with his eyes closed. He didn’t see the frown on Andrei’s face.
“It means babe or baby, like a… um… term of endearment.”
Ben’s face twisted in disgust. “I thought it was something like that, fucker.” Ben settled his head back onto his arms and took a deep breath.
Andrei smiled. “He is.”
“Can I have your permission to inject you with some pain killers? They’re local for your back, so I can do the stitches.”
Ben lay with his head pillowed on his arms. “Yes. Do what you have to. I just don’t wanna hurt.”
“It’s okay, Ben, I’ve got you. I’m not gonna let it hurt if I can help it.”
Ben winced a few times as he felt the needle going into the abused sections of his back. Andrei tossed the needles and medication away. He’d put it all in the incinerator once Ben was asleep again; Volkov would be angry if he found out that Andrei had spared Ben any suffering.
Once Ben’s back was numbed, Andrei worked quickly. He restiched the cuts from the whip that had split open and made sure they were disinfected once again.
“Okay, Ben. I’m all done.” He gently touched Ben’s shoulder and smiled as a soft snore left the boy’s mouth.
Andrei gathered up all the supplies and evidence of drugs and gentle treatment and then walked down to the incinerator at the end of the hall. He tossed all of it in and kicked the furnace on. By the time he returned to Ben, he was curled up on the table, sleeping soundly. Andrei checked his watch. He still had time before Volkov and his men would be down here. He took the muzzle and set it on the prep table. He’d let Ben sleep as long as he could before he had to wake him and put that god awful contraption back on his face. Still. It was evidence that Ben was the fighter Andrei knew him to be.
“Bravo, Ben,” Andrei whispered, letting a gentle hand smooth Ben’s wet hair away from his face. “Whatever the hell you did to make the old man so mad… Bravo, kid. Bravo.”
Wishing and praying I didn’t live in a house with other people right now I wanted nothing more then to just trap my vibrator between my thighs and try to sleep while just constantly cumming over and over
CW: EXPLICIT sexual dubcon, pet whump, bbu universe, explicit noncon elements, toys, double penetration, overstimulation, begging to stop (the overstimulation, not the sex) spitting in mouth, alcohol, three on one, everyone has a turn holding Zee’s head
-
Zee didn’t know what to expect, and that had left him nervous all day. He was scrubbed clean, shaved to softness in places— and nervously clacking a fireball around his teeth. It mixed strangely with the toothpaste aftertaste in his mouth.
Cam was being nice. He kept saying mean things to Alex, giving Alex a hard time, but he wasn’t taking it out on him, and that’s all Zee cared about.
When Ben came by they acted painfully casual for a while, as if they had really gotten together just to drink Corona and watch a football game on TV.
I want a strap hitting deep inside me while I’m crying and drooling and cant focus my eyes because they’ve been fucking me for hours and I’m so overstimulated and suddenly they push my face to the mattress and whisper in my ear “why are you crying? you’re doing so good, you’re such a good bunny”
Hhh when you whimper or sob out that you can’t take it and they use that fake pity voice, just mockingly repeating your words back to you like “oh no? You can’t take it? It’s too much? Aww… you poor thing, begging so desperately” and then they just keep going
just… “Oh no, oh no…. you’re gonna break? is that what you said? aww, you having trouble getting your words out? oh dear…” with the fake sympathy tone of voice and not stopping
Hhh when you whimper or sob out that you can’t take it and they use that fake pity voice, just mockingly repeating your words back to you like “oh no? You can’t take it? It’s too much? Aww… you poor thing, begging so desperately” and then they just keep going
Okay but I would really love it if someone were to pin me down & force me to cum again and again while whispering condescending praise in my ear.
“Hush now love, I’ve got you, you can give me one more”, while I thrash and cry from the overstimulation. Be sweet to me as you torture me & remind me that I’m not in control
I’d really like to try warming a guy up enough to where one of those vibrating prostate massagers can fit in him and also have a vibrating cock ring around him while I ride him so that he’s so overstimulated he can’t even think, much less control when he cums. It would be so cute watching him thrash around desperately
overstimulation/sensory overload really is like sorry I can’t hear you over the sound of my shirt tag being itchy and these two strands of hair touching my face and the tv and one of my shoelaces being undone and air touching me and the plane flying overhead and my own thoughts about remembering to buy hummus
Want to take an eager sub and restrain her down onto a sybian, watch as she enthusiastically rides on top of it, screaming in ecstasy from the vibrations against her.
I want to watch all the enthusiasm turn into desperation as she realises that we aren’t stopping after the first or even second orgasm. Those vibrations that were giving so much pleasure slowly becoming more and more overwhelming.
She will struggle against her restraints, and beg for me to stop with her pretty and desperate eyes, but it will be futile, all she can do it sit their and continue to ride through all the overstimulation.
“Youre doing so well for mistress. I’m so proud of you” she will hear as she loses all rational thought, only being able to focus on the intense pleasure between her legs. Pushing through orgasm after orgasm like a good slut she has a taste for being a mindless plaything now, and it will be all she craves.
I want a spreader bar so bad. Use it on a girl while I edge and tease her all night. The thought of her not being able to close the gap between her legs as I overstimulate her turns me on so much. She’d whimper and moan as I got to do exactly what I want until I’m satisfied and done with her.
Frog tying a sub, calf to thigh and laying them back with their legs apart and hands tied above their head to the bed frame. Making them count out loud every time the flogger comes down on their cunt until they are stuttering out each number, tears threatening to spill over. Then placing a vibrator on their clit, taping it in place and leaving them there to melt for a while.
[DETRANS AND OTHER BIOESSENTIALISM KINKS DO NOT TOUCH MY POST]
