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Bucky paused before he could set the lube on the nightstand, his hand hovering midair, a look of concern on his face. Peter cringed, knowing what was coming, but he still whined when Bucky asked, “Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?”
Peter kicked his feet against the mattress like the brat he was. “Buckyyy, you promised!”
“I did promise, but I’m making sure. You always tap out when things get intense.”
“And you always let me!” Peter accused despite knowing how unfair that was to say. He bounced onto his knees with a pout, giving his best puppy eyes. “You said you’d be super mean tomorrow and follow all the rules: Master/slave, punishments, training, no giving up — ”
“I know, I know.” Bucky sighed as he set the lube on the table. “I also have to be super mean tonight if I’m going to edge you before bed.”
“But I want to be horny for tomorrow,” Peter insisted. “That’s the whole point. I want to be out of my mind horny all day, but I can’t do that if you cave and let me cum.”
“I’m weak when you beg.”
Peter laughed as he crawled off the bed to wrap his arms around Bucky’s neck. “I like that part about you.”
Bucky smirked as his hands went around Peter’s waist. “You like to be spoiled.”
“And you like spoiling me.” Peter stuck his tongue out. Bucky kissed his nose. “So spoil me all you like with lots of gifts and great sex, but when it comes to kink, you need to have a backbone. Stone cold. Hard as ice.”
“A winter soldier?” Bucky offered, one eyebrow raised.
“Exactly! Be my winter soldier tomorrow.”
“And tonight?”
“Tonight, you can be a big teddy bear and cuddle me after driving me up a wall from edging. See? Compromise.”
Bucky blew out a long breath as he pressed his face into the side of Peter’s neck. “And the day after is all snuggles and pampering with no complaining. You promised.”
“I will be too exhausted to complain if you do things right tomorrow,” Peter teased.
He knew this was a big ask. It had taken months to convince his soft, nurturing boyfriend and part-time dom to fulfill this particular fantasy. They’d had a lot of fights over what Bucky called “ignoring safe word procedures” while Peter insisted that it wasn’t ignoring them, it was making a judgement call to justify the use of a safeword. Peter knew himself as well as Bucky did. When he was too horny, he didn’t care about putting in the effort to complete the scene. He just wanted to get off and then nap. How was he ever going to achieve his biggest fantasy if Bucky continued to be so lenient?
“I’m not fragile,” Peter reminded Bucky for probably the hundredth time since they started dating. “I can handle being pushed.”
Bucky groaned. “Fine.” He took hold of Peter’s face and covered it in kisses until Peter was giggling and fighting it off. “Let me stock up before I turn into Winter.”
“Winter, is it? You already named your — mmf!” The silencing kiss morphed into a makeout session that left Peter squirming. He pulled back with heavy bedroom eyes. “I am ready to be edged, Winter, sir.”
Bucky, in all his rippling-muscled glory, picked Peter up and tossed him effortlessly onto the bed. Peter moaned, never getting over how hot it was to be manhandled by someone so strong. He spread his legs in invitation, running his fingers up the insides of his thighs. He bit his lip when Bucky held up the cock cage with a dark look.
“Remember, this goes on after. It’s your last chance to say no.”
Peter was practically drooling at the deep tone of Bucky’s voice. His boyfriend was such a good actor when he needed to be. “Fuck me already.”
Bucky obliged.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
The cane fell across Peter’s ass again and again, leaving angry red welts behind. Peter sobbed, his face covered in tears and snot. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
“Not yet, you’re not.” Another strike of the cane. “Tell me the truth.”
It is the truth! Peter wanted to wail, but the truth was too impossible, so, “I lied! I’m sorry I lied. I’m sorry, sorry, so sorry…”
“What do we say when we’re sorry?”
Peter shuddered and choked on a sob. “Please punish me.”
The cane came down in a fresh rain of blows.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
Peter’s feet were on fire as they slapped across the cement. People on the sidewalk dodged out of his way for once, probably due to him being naked. As humiliating as it was to be gawked at by strangers, he didn’t really care that he was streaking down the busy streets of Queens. New Yorkers had seen much worse, and besides, it wouldn’t matter by tomorrow.
“Wait, Peter! Why are you doing this?”
The heartbreak in that question squeezed his own racing heart. He wanted to turn around and comfort his sweet, innocent lover. He couldn’t. So he kept running and running, leaving bloody footprints in his wake. Those wouldn’t matter tomorrow either.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
“Please, please, I’ll do anything. Just let me cum. Just let me cum! ” A ball gag was shoved into his mouth. He screamed and thrashed, but it did no good.
“You’ll be wearing that until bed to remind you never to ask for things you can’t have.”
Peter whined and thrust his hips uncontrollably. He’d do anything. Anything at all for a sliver of a chance. The fucking machine had no sympathy for his plight, the lust-filled eyes trained on his body had even less.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
“Do slaves walk on their feet?”
“No, Master.” Peter sank to his knees. The weighted ball and chain attached to the strap around his testicles dragged behind him as he crawled forward. He winced but did not complain. “Thank you for teaching me.”
“Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”
The praise went straight to Peter’s cock, much to his dismay.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
There are many decisions that can be made in a day by all living creatures. Sometimes the difference in those decisions is the timing, an outside influence triggering an idea, or simply the strength of an impulse or emotion. Bucky was more prone to spur-of-the-moment decisions than most. When under even a mild amount of stress, Bucky’s mind would go a mile a minute, considering all kinds of possibilities. Peter had been looking forward to that the most when he proposed this day-long scene.
Now, he wasn’t so sure if he liked this aspect of Bucky or not.
Peter woke and looked at the clock. Five past eight, which was earlier than usual for him. He wondered what that would mean. Desire burned in his gut, and his dick was uncomfortable, squeezed from where it couldn’t get hard in the cage. He reached down to check his balls, but they were thankfully free of any adornments. The first time he’d slept in past noon, he’d woken with duct tape over them. Having to yank it off removed all his hair. He had cried for thirty minutes, and Bucky’s composure broke enough to hug him during that time but not enough to stop being Winter.
There was a shuffling behind him followed by a warm embrace. He melted into it. Sometimes he missed Bucky. Such a silly thing to think when he spent day after day with his loving boyfriend, but it wasn’t always Bucky. No, Peter had asked for someone meaner, and Winter was rooted in Bucky’s past as a soldier under strict orders and expectations. Peter struggled to keep up with such rigidity. It was exhilarating that first day, but the charm was gone now.
A kiss pressed to the back of Peter’s neck. “How should a slave greet me in the morning?” Bucky’s voice was deep and rough from sleep. Peter shivered, a bolt of arousal settling in his gut.
He didn’t ask or tease or demure. He knew better than that by now. Things were easier when he did as he was told. He wasn’t good at it, not at first, but he’d had a lot of…practice. Peter wiggled his way under the sheets and tugged down Bucky’s boxers. He planned to pull out all the stops for this blowjob. Starting off the day by making Bucky happy, before Winter fully settled in, usually made things easier. Usually.
The thing that media gets wrong about time loops is that things don’t happen exactly the same every day. There was also this assumption that the person who remembered the loop was supposed to learn something in order to break the cycle. That wasn’t true either. Those who remembered were random. There was a lady down the street who remembered, and sometimes she’d help hide Peter when he needed a break, but lately, it was easier to not fight Winter. Sometimes, when his mind was overwhelmed and fuzzy from unfulfilled need, he preferred to stay.
A hand on the back of his head pressed him down until he choked. He didn’t fight it. Winter liked the feeling of the tight, gagging sensation on his cock. He liked seeing the drool and tears run down Peter’s face. It always left Peter sore for the rest of the day, but the pain would be gone by tomorrow. Everything was gone by tomorrow: the bruises, the belt marks, the waxed hair, the twinge in his knees from crawling.
Every day, a reset. Every day, the fantasy he’d begged for.
Peter’s hair was yanked as he was pulled off enough to cough and gasp for breath, though it wasn’t enough to completely recover. His head was moved like he was nothing more than a toy. He curled his tongue in all of Bucky’s favorite ways. His cock throbbed in his cage. Funny how everything reset except his mind. His desperation to cum only ever built and built until it took over every second of his day. The demands for perfection conditioned him into working harder than he ever had before in his life — and he feared that he was learning to enjoy it.
He sometimes wondered if the day he was too perfect would be the day Bucky finally noticed something was wrong. If that day ever did come, Peter would probably be too far gone to save.
“Swallow it,” Winter grunted as he shoved Peter back down.
Peter struggled but managed to force himself to swallow instead of gag. The movements of his throat sent Winter over the edge, and the bitter taste dug deep in the back of Peter’s throat. He shivered and let the proud feeling of accomplishment wash over him. So long as he didn’t fight such things, it made his day better, made it easier to slip into headspace. It was hard to fight Bucky, and he didn’t really want to. Bucky was kind, loving, and doting. None of this was his fault.
“That’s a good little bitch,” Winter cooed. He yanked Peter up out of the sheets, taking in the destroyed face with a satisfied smirk. Shame and pride warred in Peter’s chest. “What do you think should happen next?”
Peter swallowed hard and rasped, “Please spank me to remind me that a slave is always below you.”
Surprise sparked in Bucky’s dark eyes for the briefest of moments. If he could remember the loops, he wouldn’t have been. It had taken Peter a month to strike upon a few correct answers to that question, and this was the lesser of those evils. “I see you’re learning your place,” Winter replied.
He’d said that before. It had led Peter to accuse Bucky of knowing about the loop, but that hadn’t ended well. Bringing it up never did. The one time he’d safeworded and explained the problem had landed him the hardest punishment to date. Bucky had made Peter promise not to use wild stories or excuses to tap out, not after harassing Bucky for so long to do this scene. That was the day Peter realized how deep into Winter’s military mindset Bucky could sink. It was Peter’s own fault. He had established himself as untrustworthy in kink, and Bucky had always forgiven it.
Not this time, not when this day-long scene asked a lot from them both. Who would ever believe that such a thing as a time loop was real? Not Bucky, and certainly not Winter.
Peter waited until Winter was propped up against the headboard before crawling over and laying on the man’s lap. This was a funishment, an almost-reward for being good. It meant there were no paddles, canes, or belts ready to leave stripes on his skin, only Winter’s hand bringing his plump ass to a nice flushed red. Peter always liked the concept of fun spankings, but he rarely had the power to sit still long enough to leave that enticing ache in his skin afterwards.
Well, he could sit still now thanks to however many months of practice. He’d lost track of the days somewhere in month two. That was a long time ago.
One hand sank into Peter’s hair, tugging at the roots, while the other rubbed Peter’s bottom. “Don’t kick or I’ll cane your feet.”
While that was a real threat, it was never all that hard — or maybe Peter’s pain scale had changed since ripping his feet up on the streets outside. Still, the care and delicacy applied to the soles of his feet was a reminder that Bucky was still here, still doting on and spoiling Peter. It made him relax more into Bucky’s grip. “I won’t, Master.”
The first few strikes landed harder than expected, as if Winter was testing Peter’s resolve. As promised, Peter’s legs didn’t move, only his toes curling as each slap rocked him against his lover’s muscular thighs. After that, the strength put into the spankings backed off, focusing more on turning Peter’s ass red rather than bruising the muscles underneath.
Peter kept his breath steady as long as he could, but the harder he fought not to squirm, the more he panted for air. His fists twisted into the sheets while his jaw clenched. Fresh tears stung his eyes. Worst of all, his cock throbbed. He liked a little bit of pain, always had. Whenever he was horny, it really crossed the wires in his brain. Up to a certain threshold, this sort of thing did nothing but turn him on. Lately, though, the unintentional conditioning had his cock drooling with need.
Fuck his cock ached, the bars digging into the soft flesh. It didn’t help his arousal at all. He whined, high and needy in the back of his throat. It caused a dark chuckle to rain down on him, the sound like a caress over his spine.
“Were you always such a good little slut?” Winter asked.
Peter flushed. He loved hated being called a slut. Even now, if he was too far gone, he’d deny it, not that it ever ended well for him if he did.
Winter’s hand stilled, squeezing the hot skin of Peter’s cheek. “If you’re capable of being so obedient, then have you been a brat on purpose all these years?” His voice was dangerous. Peter’s stomach sank.
Usually when he was good, it meant that Bucky’s desire to reward and dote on Peter would peek through. It was rare that little twists in thought like this happened, pulling an angry Winter more to the forefront. Peter scrambled for a way to fix this, but his mind was already fuzzy from arousal and pain. “I just…I w-want to be good for you, Master.”
“And you didn’t want to be good for me before.”
“I did,” Peter whimpered.
“But you didn’t want to try hard enough.”
“I’m sorry,” Peter whispered, his words tremulous.
“Reach back, hold your cheeks apart. If you let go, I’ll get the belt.”
The urge to run was strong, but Peter had learned self-control the hard way. He did as he was told, grabbing his own flesh and pulling, swallowing hard on the nervous lump in his throat. Cool air brushed across his twitching hole. He prayed that this was just some humiliation or a chance to insert a toy inside to drive him wild. He knew that it wasn’t, but the hope refused to leave him.
“Good. Now we can continue.”
Fuck.
The first slap across his asshole had his whole body tensing up. The second made him jerk involuntarily. The fist in his hair yanked his head back, making it harder for him to squirm, the good kind of pain sending heat straight to his drooling groin. His nails bit into his own sensitive flesh as he held on, terrified of what would happen if he let go. Another slap. Another. His hole was burning now, throbbing in time with his dick.
“Do you need more?” Winter asked, pausing his assault.
There was only one answer to that no matter how much Peter didn’t want to give it. “Yes please, Master.”
More slaps, more heat, more thrashing and hair pulling. Peter keened, tears leaking down his face. He wanted to cum so bad. It was taking over, that desire, filling him to the brim. It turns out that denial of pleasure is less a physical build-up and more of a mental one. For all his body remained healthy, his mind was deteriorating. His entire world spiraled down to orders obeyed and desperation denied.
A final, hard smack had Peter crying out and his cock bouncing. Winter’s burning hand stroked down his spine, making him shiver.
“You can let go now,” Winter said. “You took your punishment well, like useless sluts should.”
Peter whimpered as his cheeks settled into place, pressing on his burning hole. He bit his lip against the words being said. It had once been a game, getting Peter both riled up and more likely to mouth off when he was lovingly insulted. It created scenarios in which they could play with punishments. It had been fun, once upon a time. Now, when such words were all he heard anymore, the sugar-laced insults sinking into the fog of his mind, he was starting to believe them.
Am I really just a useless slut he puts up with? some part of Peter couldn’t help but ask. I’m so grateful that he still loves me.
It was rare and only happened in the beginning when Peter had been very bad, but sometimes they went out for brunch. The owner of the restaurant was in the kink community. Before Peter learned proper table etiquette for a slave, he’d made so many mistakes. The owner agreed with Winter that Peter was a very bad boy, a worthless slave, and needed punishment. Peter had been taken to the back and pushed over the desk in the owner’s office and paddled soundly with a wooden spoon. Remembering that always reminded him of what a slut he was, crying for someone not his master, getting turned on by someone that wasn’t Bucky.
A useless slut.
“Thank you for training me, Master,” Peter whispered.
“Let’s see if you can keep up this good behavior, hm?” Winter left a sharp crack across Peter’s already sore ass. “Clean up your mess and then go get the shower ready.”
Peter pushed himself up onto shaky arms and turned so that he could lick his precum from Bucky’s thigh. He kept his eyes up, letting Winter enjoy the pathetic look on his face and the tears covering his cheeks. This had once been something Peter hated, the taste and shame of consuming his own jizz, but it was one of the easier things to overcome if he was honest.
He was tapped on the cheek, the slightest bit too hard, when he finished. He didn’t wait for further instruction, as he’d already been told what to do, and shuffled away so he could slide to the floor and then directly onto his knees. “Slaves only use their feet when necessary,” Peter murmured.
“Look at you being so smart,” Winter mocked. He stretched before grabbing his phone to check the same notifications he always did. If one thing was consistent, it was electronics. Knowing he was dismissed, Peter crawled along the floor and into the ensuite.
Even if Bucky wasn’t looking, he stayed on his knees. He could reach all the knobs from here despite the tile digging into his bones. He didn’t have some secret sense that would tell him if someone approached him, and Winter was incredibly stealthy, pulling from all that previous military experience. So Peter remained obedient, not wanting to incur any more punishments than strictly necessary. Unfortunately, punishments were unavoidable. He’d asked for them, after all.
“I guess you deserve this,” a voice came from behind Peter, making him jump. A towel was dropped on his head.
“Thank you, Master,” Peter murmured, folding it up to place under his knees as he waited outside their large shower stall. He missed taking relaxing showers with Bucky. Most of the time, he earned nothing more than being bathed like a dog in barely warm water.
Bucky enjoyed his time under the spray, his role slipping a bit as he tossed Peter a soft, playful smile every once in a while. He hummed a tune, and it took a while for Peter to recognize it was the opening theme to one of their favorite shows, a common earworm they both had. Well, Peter didn’t as often anymore. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d watched it. For Bucky, of course, it was only yesterday.
Nostalgia hit Peter hard, his chest constricting. A wistful smile tugged at his lips. Bucky was so good, so kind, so loveable. If Peter had picked any other day, this would have been an infinite loop of watching movies and eating tons of junk food in the midst of constant spoiling affection from his boyfriend. Any other day, Peter could jerk himself off as much as he liked. His cock twitched as his eyes glazed over, daydreaming about all the ways Bucky used to bring him to the most mind-bending orgasms.
“On your feet.”
Peter flinched. Bucky wasn’t here. Winter was. Peter rose to his feet, keeping his head bowed as he turned to the shower stall. At Winter’s becoming hand, he stepped inside, his stomach clenched with nerves. He moved where he was led, and remained pliant as he was washed with a gentle thoroughness that made his heart clench. This soft touch, the little caresses, he longed for it. He shouldn’t. The more it happened, the more Peter’s body responded, and the more Winter continued.
It ended how it always did, with Peter limp and panting in Winter’s arms, his cock throbbing with need. He couldn’t think anymore, could only obey as every nerve in his body focused on his overwhelming arousal. Winter’s mouth toyed with his ear while soapy fingers fucked into his sore hole. He whined and trembled, but he didn’t fight or complain. He couldn’t.
“If I knew a little denial would make you so obedient, I would have put this cage on you long ago.”
Peter moaned. The cage had been put on him long ago, and Winter was right, it made Peter good, more so than he’d ever been before.
“Don’t you think you’re better like this?”
“Yes, Master,” Peter whimpered, his whole body shuddering, more precum leaking from the tip of his cock.
“Say it.”
Peter was too far gone to even feel upset over the situation, so he simply told the truth. “I’m better when my cock is locked away.”
“Good boy,” Winter rumbled in Peter’s ear.
It sent Peter right to the edge, desperate cries echoing off the walls as he writhed in Bucky’s arms. The fingers were pulled from him before his body was pulled from under the spray, the sudden cool air ripping him away from his impending orgasm. He sobbed as his skin chilled, only the burning of his ass standing out in contrast, making his eyes water.
“Just because you’re good for an hour doesn’t mean you get that kind of reward.” Winter pushed Peter back onto his knees.
“Yes, Master,” Peter barely managed to choke out in response.
Winter dried off first before sitting on the toilet lid and calling Peter over with a snap and point of his fingers. He scrubbed Peter dry like one would a wet dog, abrading the smooth skin with the harsh motion. After that, Peter was ordered to hold onto his elbows and keep his mouth open. His teeth were carefully cleaned, and even after all this time, he struggled to acclimate to such simple tasks being taken from him and twisted into something humiliating. He was sure his expression was pitiful as his lips were stretched far enough to force him to drool or the brush was shoved far enough back to make him gag.
“You’re disgusting,” Winter said as if bestowing the sweetest of compliments. “Clean yourself up and start on breakfast.”
Peter nodded and did so as quickly as possible, crawling swiftly away as Bucky pulled out his razor. Seeing it made Peter remember all the times his body hair was taken from him in creative ways. At one point, foam had been laid in strips along his legs and then set ablaze. It burned fast, a flash of heat and the smell of fried hair, and nothing more. Still, the fear of seeing himself set on fire had Peter shaking the rest of the day, desperate to be good so the threat of lighting up his balls next wasn’t followed through on.
He could get away with standing once he reached the kitchen floor. He moved about the space, grateful that he was at least able to do this. It was one of the only things he had control over, making a meal that he actually wanted for the day. Of course, he wasn’t always allowed to do it, but it was often enough to be a comfort. He also didn’t always get to eat it, or at least, not immediately.
Early on, there was a day he’d been allowed to sit at the table, but he had to wait until Winter was finished and only allowed so much time to eat his own and wash up before a punishment was doled out. Most of the time, he ate on the floor, either being fed by hand or eating bites off of Winter’s boots. Bucky was creative, and breakfast happened to be where he shined the most. No day was exactly the same.
Just as Peter was finishing up, Winter slid into his seat at the table with a sigh. “No need for extra plates,” he said. Peter could have guessed, but it was nice to have directions so he didn’t have to explain why he knew.
Waffle, omelet, cinnamon oatmeal, and orange juice was delivered to the table and placed in front of Bucky. It was far too much food, but Peter would rather take his chances with a variety of options than suffer the consequences of making the wrong thing. Bucky usually had nothing but toast in the morning, but Peter had learned the hard way that far more was expected out of a slave’s cooking.
Winter waved to the other chair with a smile. It made Peter nervous. He sat down and immediately sucked in a sharp breath. He’d been able to ignore his ass while busy cooking, but sitting on it now brought it back to the forefront of his mind. He fought not to squirm, and Winter smiled at the breakfast entertainment. Peter kept his hands in his lap and remained grateful for a fairly easy morning. He had always liked the feeling of his sore cheeks on a hard chair, and this position let his knees have a break.
If only the throbbing pain would stop making a beeline to his dick.
“Do you know why you’re waiting?” Bucky asked before taking a bite of waffle.
Unfortunately, this question did not have a single answer. Bucky’s expectations changed daily in regard to what “lesson” he was trying to teach. Peter shuffled through his options. A slave must wait for permission. A slave must remember that he is below everyone else. A slave must earn the right to eat food. He settled on, “A slave must wait until his Master is finished.”
“Do you know why that is?”
Damn, he wasn’t getting away with such a vague answer. His fingers fidgeted in his lap. “So that…Master…has enough to eat.”
Winter was silent long enough for Peter to panic a bit before, “That means you're left with the scraps, like a dog.”
Peter paled. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been made to run around the apartment barking like a dog, probably wouldn’t be the last. Usually pet play offered a lot of freedom, but Winter trained his dogs to obedience even harder than his slaves. “Yes, Master.”
Winter hummed and continued eating. He was sampling everything and had made no comment about it not being up to his standards. That was a good sign. Peter stayed silent, his stomach growling only once, earning him a dark chuckle. Winter’s eyes drank Peter’s naked body and aborted squirms of pain with as much pleasure as he drank his juice. When only half of his food was left, he stood, the erection he sported obvious in his pajama bottoms.
“Stay there,” Winter ordered. He collected his dishes and moved into the kitchen.
Peter was irrationally nervous. He was used to taking orders when it was time to clean up. Sometimes Bucky simply forgot to be mean and packed away the leftovers before bringing Peter some fruit. Sometimes he would spread the food on the floor and make Peter lick it up. There was no way to tell. He flinched as he heard cabinets open and close and the scraping of a fork on the plate. After that, there was the tell-tale slapping sound of Bucky jerking off. Why wasn’t he using Peter’s mouth? Peter squirmed even more as his nervousness rose.
Winter returned so that Peter could watch the end of this. He placed the large dog bowl on the table. It wasn’t the first time Peter had seen it, though he still didn’t know when Bucky had purchased it. Inside were all the leftovers mixed into a messy pile of mismatched flavors, orange juice topping the gooey concoction. Winter aimed, and with a grunt, came on top of it all, his spend mixing easily into the scraps.
Peter couldn’t take his eyes off the bowl as it was carelessly dropped onto the floor. “What do you say?” Winter asked.
“Thank you, Master,” Peter automatically replied.
There was a pause. Bucky was waiting for Peter to throw a fit or refuse so that Winter could have an excuse to teach a lesson, probably by shoving his dog’s face in the food. Long ago, in the beginning, Peter would have thrown the fit that was expected. Even afterwards, he’d sometimes act out in hopes of getting the big punishment out of the way first thing in the morning. It occasionally made the rest of the day easier. Lately…lately Peter didn’t feel like disobeying at all.
Sometimes that scared him.
He slipped from his chair and onto his knees, peeking up at Winter before falling to his hands. He crawled his way over and dropped onto his forearms. He knew better than to use anything other than his mouth to eat this. He took a deep breath, it smelled of syrup and spunk. Sinking lower, he took the first bite, fighting down the urge to gag on the discordant flavors.
Winter chuckled. “Someone must be hoping for a reward.” He shuffled so that his toe could tap lightly on Peter’s balls. “Is my dog acting greedy?”
Peter whined but continued eating. He knew that orgasm wasn’t an option. He knew. Sometimes he made it the whole day knowing that and was okay with it. He didn’t think today was one of those days, but that didn’t mean he was doing this just for a reward. There was no way to convince Bucky of that, however. According to him, it was only yesterday that Peter had been New York’s most spoiled brat.
Choking down the rest of the food was difficult, but Peter succeeded. He licked the bowl clean for good measure. Part of him knew that the better he acted, the more Winter would push. Still, he glanced up through his lashes, putting on the best pitiful, obedient face he could, the one he knew Bucky softened considerably under. There was a pause where Peter’s boyfriend surfaced for a moment with a softening of eyes and a twitch of the mouth. Then it was gone.
“Pour me a drink. I’ll take it in the living room.” Bucky spun around and marched away, likely needing the time to recover and reestablish his mean dom persona.
Peter knew that would happen. There was no scenario in which this scene could actually stop. No, that wasn’t the truth. He could stop things if he was willing to go above and beyond to prove it. First, he’d have to perform some dangerously unstable action to upset Bucky. Then, he’d spend half a day arguing and explaining the situation, calling those he knew in the same boat to prove his case. Afterwards, Bucky would be wracked with guilt, horrified at what he’d done to Peter for so many months and would unwittingly do again the very next day.
It was torture to watch, and it brought no comfort for all that it stopped the scene. All Peter wanted was a day to be happy and relaxed, a day he could have all the sex he wanted, a day where he could pretend none of this had ever happened. That wasn’t something Bucky was capable of providing once the truth was revealed. And ultimately, Peter didn’t want to hurt Bucky by talking about all that had happened, even if it would be erased by the next day. It was why he never said anything, not after that first week.
It was better to crawl his way over to where they kept the whiskey and pour Bucky a glass. It felt right when he was obedient.
No, don’t think about that.
Peter padded to the living room, carefully holding the glass. Bucky was reclined in the middle of the couch, a tablet in his hand. He waved at a pillow by his feet, and Peter sank to his knees there. The glass was taken from him, sipped, and returned. There wasn’t an end table near Bucky, so Peter must act the part. He breathed deep and let himself sink into this role, being nothing but an item put to use. It was a relief, in a way. A break from how difficult the day can get.
Not long ago, he wouldn’t have had the patience for this. He would have complained that this wasn’t fun or he hated being ignored. He would have squirmed and whined or distracted himself with something that made him ignore his master. One time, he was whipped with a belt. One time, he had a ball gag shoved in his mouth. One time, he was given the “attention he craved” as Winter toyed with his body, driving him insane with pain and pleasure that blended into something indistinguishable.
“Bored?” Winter asked.
Peter startled and looked up. Winter was relaxed, the tablet laying blank beside him, the glass of whiskey perched between his fingers. His heavy gaze was locked on Peter, assessing. A jolt of adrenaline shot up Peter’s spine, and he squirmed on his pillow before he could stop himself. He shook his head, unable to find his voice fast enough. Winter raised an eyebrow.
“Thank you for making me useful, Master,” Peter managed to say.
“Perhaps I should give you a reward,” Winter said.
That made Peter irrationally nervous. All he could do was stare back with wide eyes, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.
Winter smirked and tossed back the rest of his drink. He handed it over with instructions to set it on the floor for now, which Peter did with shaking hands. He turned back in time to see Winter pat his knee. “Come here. Straddle my lap.”
Peter did as told, letting his knees sink into the cushions. It opened him up, his cage dangling heavy between his legs and nestled on the pillow of his balls. He ducked his head, biting his lip to contain the sudden urge to beg. He wasn’t a needy brat anymore for all that the old habits bubbled under his skin. He a useless slave desperately trying to be good, to learn his lessons and put them to use.
Bucky smoothed his hands over Peter’s skin, admiring the lithe body and brushing his calloused thumbs over the pink nipples until they hardened. Peter fought not to squirm under the sensation. His skin crackled and buzzed, and he was hit with the visceral memory of all the times his sweet boyfriend would worship his body until he was lost in orgasmic bliss. His hips thrust without his permission, chasing an ending he’d never get.
A tinkling sound snapped him back to the present. He opened his eyes and watched as Winter pulled a string of bells from his pocket. They were attached to a nipple clamp. Historically, Peter made his love of nipple clamps everyone else’s problem by complaining about every little thing from the angle they were attached to how tightly they pinched. He didn’t say anything at all as he watched each string of bells make their way to his chest. He winced as they squeezed into place. Winter flicked them, making them jingle in the quiet between them, causing the clamp to twist just slightly so that it tugged.
“Cute, aren’t they?” Winter asked.
Peter hated being called cute, so this was toeing a line, not that he was likely to complain anymore. “Yes, Master.”
Winter’s hands returned to Peter’s sides, but this time, his fingers danced over specific spots. Peter sucked in a sharp breath, trembling with the need to remain unmoving and not cave to the sensation. He hated being tickled, but not enough to ever put it down as a hard no. It was the fastest way to get him to fight, to shout his demands. Bucky knew this, and Winter was going to exploit it.
A wicked smirk grew across Winter’s face.
Peter trembled and jerked.
The bells chimed softly.
“Having trouble sitting still?” Winter asked.
Peter choked, and it was all over. He was writhing and gasping, fighting off Bucky’s hands while fighting his own reactions. Tickling never made him laugh as much as it made him squeal. He bit down on the noise, but it ripped from his throat regardless, much to Winter’s pleasure. The bells chimed and jingled as they danced, adding a constant background track to Peter’s struggles.
The worst part was how close tickling danced on the line of pain without crossing over it. The feeling sent mixed signals to his poor, denied cock which instantly tried to get hard. It couldn’t, of course. It pressed into the bars of the unforgiving cage, making Peter shout as he slapped Bucky’s hand away to no avail. He was going to be punished for that later. He was always punished. He had asked for it.
“Please, please, please,” Peter begged between sharp gasps of air.
Bucky paused. “Do you want me to stop?”
Peter’s chest rose and fell as he attempted to recover. He made eye contact, drowning in the dark depths as he fought himself to say the right answer. The silence stretched, and Winter’s lips quirked higher. Refusing to answer a question was just as bad as answering it incorrectly. Peter had to say something. If he was going to, he may as well say what he wants, beg for what he wants, scream about how unfair all of this was.
“A slave is happy with whatever his master wants.” The words spilling from his own lips was far more of a betrayal than anything Bucky would ever do.
“You must have studied for this test,” Bucky teased. And it was Bucky — sweet, cheerful Bucky who would do anything to make Peter happy and was always full of sassy quips and bad jokes.
Peter didn’t get a chance to respond nor an opportunity to revel in this moment with his boyfriend before the tickling started again. Winter’s determination to drive him insane was unrelenting. Peter screeched and jerked back, willing to let himself fall backwards to escape, but a firm grip on his arm yanked him back up. Little pops and bursts of static tingled along his skin, his nerve endings confused, his cock drooling. His eyes watered as he fought against Winter’s grip.
The bells chimed.
It finally stopped, Peter slumping forward to catch his breath, his muscles aching already from the effort. He was allowed a moment to recover, which was surprising considering how much he’d disobeyed and voiced what he wanted. The fact that he hadn’t been put over Winter’s knee already was ominous. He peeked up at the man in front of him, nervous about what came next.
Winter smiled. It sent a shiver down Peter’s spine. “Did you hear how much those bells jingled?” Winter asked.
Drawing attention to them made the ache in Peter’s nipples rush to the forefront of his mind. Forcing them to bounce so much had twisted and tugged on them. They were now pink and swollen under the clamps. Peter nodded. “Yes, Master.”
“If you can make so much noise being bad, then you can make that much noise being good.” Winter reached into the seam of the couch cushions where he had, at some point, hidden a few surprises. He pulled out lube and a plug. “You need to learn how to ride me properly.”
Peter swallowed hard, his eyes locked on the plug. It was made of metal with a t-bar base, making it ideal for long-term wear. The problem was, it was a series of stacked balls all melded together, increasing in size from top to bottom. It made wearing it fun, but it made being fucked by it intense. Peter had only ever been able to bend over and take it. To ride it? He was meant to fail this task.
Why, even after so long, was Bucky able to surprise Peter with something new?
Winter made a show of lubing up the toy, letting Peter’s anticipation rise. He likely thought that the build-up would be too much, and Peter would crack, falling back into his usual bratty demands. Frankly, he considered acting like a brat despite the urge being concerningly missing. It would cause more punishments, but he wouldn’t have to struggle with this task and be punished after anyways for failing.
He opened his mouth…
He shut it.
There was a new urge, growing stronger and more encompassing by the day — the thing he feared yet took solace in during this never-ending scene. He wanted to be good. He wanted to be the perfect slave. He wanted to be molded until he was unrecognizable from the brat he’d once been. He wanted to believe that when he was finally everything Winter wanted, then this infinite loop would no longer matter, and he’d live blissfully ever after.
You weren’t supposed to think about it, a voice said in the back of his mind. A voice that lost a little bit of strength every time he let these urges consume him.
Winter moved the plug between Peter’s legs. “You can start slow to adjust, but if you waste time…” the threat hung in the air between them.
“I’ll be good, Master,” Peter whispered.
Winter’s expression said he didn’t believe that for a second, and truly, he had no reason to. Not in his timeline.
Peter lowered his hips, reaching back to guide the toy where he wanted it. His hole clenched at the feeling of the cold metal, but he made himself relax, opening up to take the first bulb. It wasn’t terribly difficult to do once he got started, the balls bumping their way inside easily, spreading the layers of slick on his inner walls for easier passage. He sank all the way down, letting his hole close around the biggest ball before lifting back up, easing the toy out and ignoring the slight pressure of it rubbing along his swollen prostate.
Lowering his hips once again was both easier and harder. His eyes rolled at the sensation, and his hands flew to Bucky’s shoulders to balance himself. He squirmed once it was settled inside of him, circling his hips and grinding where he wanted it most. He felt the shoulder under his hand flex before a sharp crack landed across his ass. He jolted forward with a cry, his eyes snapping open to Winter’s reprimanding gaze.
“I gave you an order, and no part of it said to grind yourself to orgasm.”
Peter curled in on himself, shame rolling hot through him, mixing with the mind-numbing arousal. He wanted to be good. He wanted to be good so bad. He wanted to cum. “I want to be good,” Peter slurred.
“Then make those bells jump instead of being a greedy slut.”
Peter whined and lifted his hips. He tried rocking back and forth but all it did was make his brain buzz and his cock jump. The bells rocked against his pecs but they barely made a peep. He tried forcing his hips down harder, but that made the toy tilt in Winter’s grasp, rubbing the balls on his prostate. He shook and threw his head back with a filthy moan.
I need to be good. Must be good. I don’t want to be useless.
A memory from some porn video popped into his head. He shuffled around, planting his feet into the cushions so he was in a squat. It would be easier this way to get more lift. He pulled up on shaky legs and dropped back down hard. The bells lifted into the air and then slapped back against his skin in a jangle of noise. He moaned.
“Look at you using your brain,” Winter mocked. “One time isn’t enough, though, is it?”
No, it wasn’t. Peter readjusted his grip on Bucky’s shoulders, took a deep breath, and forced himself to move as fast as possible. The bells chimed as they were meant to, and his thighs instantly burned from the effort. All of that fell into the background, however. All consuming was the feeling of the toy jerking and bouncing around his insides, the bumps dragging at his rim and pummeling the spot deep inside. The tight feeling in his groin rose, sharp and sweet, promising a release he’d never thought to achieve.
His left leg cramped.
He fell forward onto Bucky’s chest, panting hard as he tried to recover. His legs were shaking uncontrollably, sweat was pouring down his back and plastering his hair to his cheeks. How long had he gone? It felt like forever yet no time at all. He whined as he tried to get back into position, but he only managed three more squats before he fell forward once more. Bucky was the dedicated gym bunny between them, never Peter.
“Tired already?” Winter’s voice aimed for mocking, but the lust overpowered it.
Peter looked down to see the tent in Bucky’s pants. This would be the third time before breakfast. That only happened when Bucky took those testosterone pills he had stored away for rainy days. Or maybe Peter was doing that good of a job. He preferred that option. It made him feel tingly all over. His cock jumped and drooled as he reached down to rub the erection tenting Bucky’s pants.
“You want it?” Winter asked, his voice deep and rough.
“Yes, Master,” Peter breathed with all the conviction he could.
Winter swirled the plug inside of Peter, pulling a pitiful whimper from his slave. “You’re so loose now, see?” A finger from his other hand teased Peter’s rim before slipping inside. “I wouldn’t be able to feel anything.”
Peter tried to clench, but it did nothing. He was exhausted, his hole gaping after the abuse he’d given it. His breath hitched, tears springing to his eyes. All he wanted was to be good, but now he couldn’t even please his Master. “I’m sorry, ‘m sorry, sorry.”
“Shhh, I might have an idea,” Bucky soothed and tilted his head to let Peter nuzzle his face under the clean-shaven jaw. “Scoot up further.”
Peter did as told. He felt Bucky’s finger leave his hole and then a rustle of fabric. The sound of a condom wrapper crackled by Peter’s ear as Bucky tore it open. Peter’s mind was too sluggish and addled, too far gone into headspace, to even wonder what came next. So it was with surprise, trepidation, and deep satisfaction that he felt Bucky’s cock press against his loose hole.
They had never done this before, and thankfully, Bucky was trying to make this easy by keeping the plug inside so only the narrow stem spread Peter’s entrance. Inside, though, inside pressed and expanded in so many ways that Peter was unused to. It was intense and overwhelming. He couldn’t tell if it was pleasure, pain, or both. Whatever it was sent him hurtling back to the edge.
Mindlessly, he reached down to grab his cock. He didn’t care that it throbbed and bulged through the bars of his cage. It was easy to smear the precum around enough to jerk off in tiny movements against his forcibly tiny package. He keened as Bucky slammed his hips in and then slowly pulled out to the tip. Maybe Peter could do it, just like this, overfull and locked up, rubbing his pathetic dick until he could achieve his first orgasm in too long to count.
A steel band wrapped around Peter’s wrist and yanked it away from his desperate cock. He cried out, tugging weakly in retaliation, twisting and jerking enough to make the clamps jingle and his insides light up with too-much pleasure. Tears were on his cheeks again, and a tongue cleaned them away. He reached for himself with his other hand, but it was caught too. Bucky’s hand was so big, the grip so unrelenting. His own hands were pulled up in front of his face like he was praying, which felt apropos.
“Please, please, need it, please,” Peter whined, hiccuping through his tears.
“So demanding when it hasn’t even been a full day,” Winter scolded through rough breaths as he fucked up into Peter.
Peter shook his head wildly. “No, it’s been forever. Please. I can’t do this forever.”
“You’re going to get the belt for lying,” Winter replied through gritted teeth, his hips speeding up. “Fuck, you feel so tight like this.”
“No, no, no,” Peter whined. He was so bad at being a slave. He couldn’t take what his master gave him. He was so useless. He didn’t want to be useless anymore. He wanted to be good. “Please punish me, please, wanna be good, please, ah!”
Bucky hissed a breath between his teeth as his thrusts grew erratic. It wasn’t long before he grunted with release, his other hand letting go of the plug in favor of pulling Peter in close. The movement arched Peter’s back, making the tip of the plug dig into his prostate. A gush of precum dribbled from him as he cried out into Bucky’s groan. His body continued to twitch and twist without his permission, his exhausted limbs still desperate to rut his way to orgasm even when his mind wanted to be obedient.
Winter tutted his disappointment as he pulled out before easing the plug into the open as well. Peter choked on a sob as he lost the one thing bringing him so close — so close he might have been able to do it. The metal balls hit the floor and rolled, likely to be cleaned up by Peter later. Bucky removed the condom and casually tossed it away as well. Peter realized belatedly that his hands were free. He wrapped them around Bucky’s neck to keep himself from doing the one thing his body was screaming at him to do: rub his trapped cock. He trembled with the effort to control himself.
Bucky wrapped his hands around his boyfriend’s frame, rubbing up and down in soothing patterns along Peter’s sides and spine, ass and thighs, then up to the back of the neck. Peter sank into it, pulling what comfort and rest he could as his shaking receded and the bright edge of desperation slowly spiraled down to manageable levels. Bucky didn’t speak again until Peter’s breathing was back under control.
“Let’s get you to the office.”
Peter whined. Bucky’s office was where they kept the kink furniture, usually shoved in a corner or stored in the closet. All of it was pulled out for use today, today, and today. So many times they had used it so far, from familiar to new and everything in between. He was trying so hard to be a good slave. He didn’t want to be a useless slut again just because he needed so badly.
“I don’t want to be a cum dump today,” Peter slurred, the pout in his tone obvious.
Bucky laughed as if he’d never do that, but he had. Peter was very bad that day and had said a lot of bad things. He never said those things anymore. “I’m going to cuff you to the bench since you’re so tired,” Bucky reassured. “Then I’ll get the belt so we can finish your punishments. You remember everything you did wrong, right?” Winter asked.
Peter shivered and nodded. “Yes, Master. Thank you for punishing me and training me.”
A gentle kiss pressed to Peter’s temple. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. Afterwards, we can rest before lunch.”
Right, they had barely made it beyond breakfast. The rest of the day awaited them. More edging, more orders, and more punishments would fill Peter’s world, all of it melding into one big jumble of time for a day that never ended. If only he could be good. He wanted so much to be perfect. His master deserved that. Bucky deserved it. One day, Peter would learn to be the best slave in the world…
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
Peter woke at seven in the morning to his phone buzzing. He opened his eyes to see the notification preview; “547,” the text read from an unsaved number. It was from Wanda down the road. He recognized her phone number, but he couldn’t save it. She was in contact now with most of the people worldwide that were aware of the time loop. A man in Oklahoma who was good with numbers was able to keep up with the loops. He sent a message every day to start the text chain that would inform everyone.
It had been a long time since Peter cared, sometime around day 250, but Wanda continued to check in.
A new message pinged. “Are you still there?”
He was. Nothing could possibly happen to them, to any of them. Dying did nothing to stop the loop, as many others had found out either accidentally or on purpose. Of course, that wasn’t exactly what she meant. They’d had a falling out ever since she accused Bucky of being abusive and that Peter was losing touch with reality. Still, he didn’t want to concern her more than she already was, despite his remaining anger over the insult to his kind, loving, adorable boyfriend.
“Yes,” Peter sent back and nothing more. He didn’t have time to waste on Wanda. His master was still asleep, and he had work to do.
The arousal was a constant companion now, pulsing under his skin alongside his bloodstream. It made his mind hazy upon waking and worsened as the day wore on, leaving him all but devoid of higher thought. He understood now that this was what helped him be a good slave. He wasn’t supposed to have complicated thoughts, and he didn’t deserve orgasms. His master could have orgasms, and that meant such things were beneath someone like him.
Sliding under the sheets, Peter moved between his master’s legs and took the soft cock in his mouth, warming it until it hardened, at which point he gently licked and teased it to life. This was Master’s most preferred way to wake up. It made Peter glow with happiness, his useless cock bouncing between his legs like the tail of a happy dog. Ah, if only he could be as useful as a dog.
It was okay, though. Master loved Peter despite how worthless he was. Once they started their day, he would learn all kinds of lessons and beg for punishments as a good slave should. It was silly that he ever tried to avoid them. They taught him valuable lessons, and one should never stop learning and striving to be better. He was so happy now, living in this timeless paradise with the man he loved. He wouldn’t have it any other way.
Master shuffled and took a deep breath as his cock grew down Peter’s throat. With a blissful smile, Peter pushed his head forward until he gagged like a good slave should.