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Pete’s arms ached, muscles strained and skin indented from where he leaned on them. His skin was beaded with sweat, clinging to his brows. Every time he blinked, a droplet of sweat would trail down into his eyes, stinging them with salt, causing them to tear up all over again. His cheeks were already sticky from his desperate tears. He’d been in this position for a while. In fact, he’d been in this position for approximately twelve minutes. He knew because Vegas was keeping track.
The fuck machine spearing into him gave a particularly hard thrust causing Pete to jolt forward with a sob, his fingers clenching into his palms as his thighs shook with the effort it took to keep holding him. Between his legs, his cock was hard and dripping. He’d already come once and that had been his mistake. The order had been that he was not allowed to come until after Vegas said it was okay once he reached ten minutes straight of being fucked by this damn machine.
Pete was usually pretty good at holding himself back, but the metal ring around the tip of his cock sending jolts of electricity through him took the difficulty from a four to a nine.
Each jolt had a flash of pain racking through his body, but that pain quickly shifted, becoming a sort of pleasure that Pete couldn’t deny. His cock was rock hard and there was a puddle beneath him that grew slightly larger each time the machine fucked into him.
His toes curled and thigh muscles tensed. Pete’s insides felt like they were on fire. He bit down on his lip and leaned his head on his wrists, fingers clenching into his hair as he fought off the growing need for release. He couldn’t come until Vegas said—if he came again, he doubted he’d be able to come for a third time, and then Vegas would be really upset.
Pete turned his head, gasps spilling from his lips, eyesight blurry. He stared at Vegas sitting about five feet away on an armchair, book open on his lap. Next to him on a table, a glass of wine, half drank, sat along with the controls for the toys torturing Pete’s nethers.
He wasn’t even looking at him, as if he was completely uninterested in the sight of Pete dripping wet and being driven insane by the pleasure forced upon him. Pete gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes, a tear escaping from the corner of one. It landed on his lips and he swiped his tongue out, tasting the salt.
“H-how long…?” he gasped, even though he wasn’t supposed to, unable to help himself. He needed to know—hadn’t it been longer than the second set of ten minutes? Surely time was almost up? Then Vegas would let him come, then Vegas would touch him, would end this torture —
Vegas sighed from where he sat. He sounded bored . A fire churned in the pit of Pete’s stomach. Was he really not enjoying himself? Was Pete acting as just decoration for his bedroom? His legs spread, thighs trembling, arms aching, back arching, puckering hole red and swollen and abused while his cock dripped the proof of Pete’s enjoyment all over the floor—did none of this please Vegas?
Pete’s cock throbbed even more at the idea and he sobbed, humiliated in himself that he got enjoyment out of this.
“You have six minutes.”
Pete groaned, wanting nothing more than to pull off of this damn machine, but knowing he’d regret it if he did. A moment’s pleasure wouldn’t be worth whatever special sort of punishment Vegas would have for him if he followed through on that—it wouldn’t be nice for him.
“I added an extra minute for talking. Didn’t I say you couldn’t ask how long you have, Pete?” Pete looked back up at Vegas with watery eyes. Vegas was staring at him for the first time since he’d started the second session of fucking, and the sight of his dark eyes boring into his made Pete want to say screw the consequences, crawl over to between Vegas’ legs, and swallow down his cock and choke on it.
But he held back and just nodded, crying out as the ring around his cock gave a particularly powerful jolt of electricity. Vegas went back to his book, flipping to the next page and Pete took the opportunity to stare at him.
Vegas’ hair hung slightly in his eyes, worn more loosely than he usually did when he had business. His shirt was silk and deep purple, open to the middle of his chest. Pete licked his lips as he stared, imagining himself tasting his skin. Vegas’ legs were crossed, right foot dangling in the air. A graceful hand grasped at the stem of the glass of wine next to him, bringing it to his beautiful lips to sip at before gently settling it back down on the table.
Pete could only imagine what he himself looked like. A mess. A wreck. Like nothing more than some whore whose hole was to be used for the sole purpose of being filled however Vegas sought it to be filled. It’s what Vegas had told him last night and the words played over and over in his mind, like a recording that skipped only to repeat forever on end.
A part of Pete wished that he did have a recording so he could listen to it over and over and over again…
He whined out as the robotic cock thrust into his prostate. Pete shuddered, his entire body spasming and burrowed his head in his arms, trying to think of something, anything, that would keep the fire building in his gut at bay. He could feel the walls of his ass clinging to the machine, as if trying to keep it inside of him. That wasn’t a surprise—he loved the feeling of being filled. The only thing that could possibly beat out one of Vegas’ special toys (modeled completely after his own cock—Pete supposed if one had the money, then why not?) would be Vegas himself.
Pete’s fingers twitched. He had to once again grasp at his hair, tugging painfully at the roots, in order to stop himself from reaching down between his legs to relieve himself. That was against the rules and it wouldn’t help his predicament when the objective of this game was to not come.
He heard Vegas close the book and set it down on the table. He peeked out from behind his arms, watching as Vegas downed the rest of the wine in his glass before standing. His steps were soft and quieter than a mouse. He was like an unheard ghost, floating gracefully to stand next to Pete.
An electric shock traveled down Pete’s cock and he cried out, thrusting his hips backward and forward as he dripped onto the floor beneath him.
“You’re looking pathetic, Pete.” Vegas’ voice came from above him. Pete bit down on his lip, desperate tears squeezing from his eyes as he turned his head to look up at his lover. Vegas’ voice was filled with disappointment, disappointment in him, and the shame of it twisted in his chest like a dull knife cutting through flesh.
“I-I’m sorry…” Usually, Pete might argue, but he no longer had any fight left in him from his torture that, while it realistically hadn’t lasted that long, felt as if it’d been lasting hours, if not days.
Vegas sighed and kneeled next to him. The soft silk of his shirt brushed against Pete’s shoulders and he shuddered. Sandalwood and mint surrounded him like the scent of some sort of lust potion. His desire pooled in his lower stomach, balls aching and ass clenching. All he wanted was relief .
Pete turned his eyes, wide and watery, towards Vegas, a silent plea to put him out of his misery.
A soft hand brushed along Pete’s forehead, collecting sweat onto his thumb, and then Vegas pressed it to his lips, tongue flicking out to swirl around his thumb. “Eager, aren’t you? Not a surprise…” Vegas’ eyes flicked across his body, hovering on his ass as it was pounded by the machine. “Doing all this, following my orders. Seriously, Pete, you’re nothing more than some filthy slut. Only good for taking cock, my cock.” Vegas suddenly grabbed his hair, fingers tight in the strands as he pulled Pete’s head back, stretching his neck into an uncomfortable backwards arch.
Pete gasped, lips falling open. He wanted to agree, to say yes to whatever Vegas had said. The words swam in his ears, the ache of his cock between his legs distracting from practically anything else.
“Do you want me to touch you?”
Touch… he was asking if he wanted Vegas to touch him?
His eyes widened and he started nodding, the pain on his scalp from his hair being pulled and the ache of his neck only adding to the pleasure building within him. “Y-yes… please… Vegas…”
A smile played at Vegas’ lips, the only sign that he was enjoying this before it was wiped from his face. “Tell me how much you want me to wrap my fingers around your little cock, stroke you, let you come… why shouldn’t I just keep you here all night? Put a cock ring around you and not allow you to come until the morning? Doesn’t that sound fun?”
“N-no!” Pete shouted, panic igniting in his chest at the thought. All night? Like this? He would probably die if Vegas left him this way.
“No?” Vegas shifted as he kneeled and even in Pete’s somewhat fucked out, delirious state, he still recognized it as the tell-tale sign of Vegas’ own arousal. “Then beg.”
“Please! Pl-please, Vegas, Khun Vegas, touch me… let me come… I need it—I know I’m n-nothing more than a filthy whore. I-I’m so wet and hard and it hurts … please!”
Vegas stared at Pete as he sobbed, head tilted to the side as if he was thinking whether or not the begging was good enough. Just then, an alarm went off and Vegas looked down, reaching into his pocket to grab his phone.
“Eleven minutes.” His eyes flicked back up to Pete, his smile now firmly on his face. “Looks like you managed it.” Vegas put his phone back into his pocket and reached behind Pete, shutting off the machine just as it slammed into his prostate.
Pete cried, falling forward as he pulled his ass off the machine, his aching cock sliding along the mess he made beneath him. The ring around the tip of his cock sending jolts of electric current through him was still going, however. Pete felt like he might die .
Vegas then grabbed something he’d brought over from next to him, clicking a button, and the jolts finally stopped after nearly twenty straight minutes of this torture. Pete didn’t even have the energy to move, his hips writhing against the floor. Vegas had to push him onto his back in order to gain access to his cock.
Fingers wrapped around Pete and he moaned out, arching his hips off of the floor and into Vegas’ hand. The world seemed to spin as Vegas’ thumb rubbed against the tip of Pete’s red, swollen, and dripping cock.
“Don’t come until I say.”
“ Please …” Pete begged, unsure of how much more he could take of this. He stared up at his lover, vision blurred as Vegas’ hand worked over his length, squeezing painfully around his base before moving his hand upwards, pinching around his tip.
“There you go… look at you. Such a good boy, aren’t you, Pete?” Vegas’ voice was thick and deep, proof of him being affected by the sight of Pete. Pete’s tongue flicked out over his lips and he thrust himself up into Vegas’ hand to try and get him to let him come .
“G-good for you,” Pete gasped, fingers scraping along the floor. “Only for you…”
There was a flicker in Vegas’ eyes and then his hand moved faster and tighter around him. His free hand stroked through Pete’s hair, grasping at it and holding Pete down flat against the ground. Pete’s breath came in small hitches, oxygen barely entering into his lungs, causing them to burn, and then finally, finally , he heard the words he’d been dying to hear for ages.
“You can come, Pete.”
He didn’t last a moment longer, his body arching off of the ground and a cry breaking free from his throat. His entire body trembled as he released, spilling himself over his stomach and Vegas’ hand began to slow until Pete emptied himself completely. Vegas then let go of him, staring down at the mess of him left curled up on the floor.
“That’s what happens when you don’t listen.” Vegas told him, fingers now grazing through his hair. “Next time you’ll listen, won’t you?”
Pete nodded, still gasping oxygen into his lungs. His eyes felt heavy and his body ached. He didn’t think he could stand even if he wanted to. Still, his hand reached for Vegas, sliding along the front of his pants for the treasure hidden there.
“No,” Vegas moved away, standing up straight beside him. Pete whined as he left his reach, grasping at the bottom of his pants. “This is part of the punishment. You don’t get to touch me at all. I’ll be taking care of myself. You…” his eyes glanced over the ground. “I’ll give you ten minutes to rest. Then you’re going to clean this up and yourself.” He shook his leg, pulling free from Vegas’ grasp and then began walking back to the chair to pick up his book.
“But…” Pete whined, the desperate need to taste Vegas on his tongue almost as strong as his desire to come had been.
Vegas turned to look at him from the bookshelf, a smirk playing at his lips. “If you’re that desperate, you can always fuck the machine again.”