Smut and fluff

Robotic Technotronic

By sulkingroom

Summary:

"I'm going to turn this on in a moment," Ben said calmly. Harry got off on being told what was going to happen to him - what would be done to him - the heady mixture of excitement and dread prolonging the euphoria he experienced while helpless. "Are you going to be good for me?" 

Harry's scream hit Ben's ear like a baby's cry, sharp and insistent. He flinched bodily, wheeling around from where he was checking the machine's settings one final time before letting it loose on Harry.

The candle suspended in the air above Harry's streaked torso was almost burnt out, the evidence of which was splattered from Harry's pubes up to his nipples. The wax cracked and splintered as Harry struggled against the bonds at his wrists and ankles, leaving thin spidery veins of his flushed skin almost visible beneath. Ben had drizzled the first stream of wax onto the sensitive skin at the base of Harry's cock himself, and although he'd flagged pathetically in response, his cock had since filled back up, now swaying heavily as Harry thrashed against the restraints, precome sliding over the lowest patches of wax on his abdomen.

"Do that again and I'll give you something to scream about," Ben warned, abandoning the machine to stand beside Harry as he bucked desperately.

"Do you need to be gagged?"

Ben had set Harry up in the basement, the walls a thick aged stone, but he still didn't want to risk having to explain prolonged screaming to any neighbours that might be walking by.

"I don't know ," Harry whined, his mind far away and useless.

"That sounds like a yes to me."

As another thick drip of wax slipped from the candle onto Harry's chest, bonding instantly to the cooling pool already seared into his skin, Harry howled, his teeth clashing noisily as he clenched his jaw.

"Yes or no, Harry?"

Beneath Harry's body the black repurposed medical bench was slick and shiny with his sweat, a thin line of light visible below the arch of his back as he tried in vain to rest comfortably under the dripping candle.

"Yes," Harry panted. "Please Sir."

"Good girl," Ben replied, slapping the meat of Harry's thigh as he retrieved a well-worn leather bit gag from the drawer beside him. Harry picked his head up obediently as Ben fitted the gag in place, noting the way Harry's eyes slipped closed the second the bit pressed his tongue down, rendering him helpless and mute, save for his customary grunts and whines.

"Okay?" Ben checked.

Harry nodded, opening his eyes weakly.

"I can't hear you."

Just because Harry could no longer speak, Ben had no intention of letting him off the hook. If he wanted to prove how good he could be, there was no room for squeamishness.

"Ehs," Harry groaned.

"Was that a yes?" Ben asked, grabbing the pair of scissors he'd set aside earlier and cutting down the candle dangling above Harry.

"Eh," Harry repeated. "Eh er."

"Yes Sir?"

Harry nodded again theatrically, his head lifting up from the bench to emphasise the point. Spit was beginning to pool at the sides of Harry's open mouth and the force of his nods worked it free, thick streams oozing sloppily down to his chin.