And I Will Consume You

53

Pete felt a long, cold shiver run down his spine, his eyes bound covered, hands bound, and mouth gagged, sat naked on his knees and feeling saliva run down his chin with torturous anticipation. The low Humm of a vibrator stuffed deep inside of him brought a light sheen of sweat to his skin and he was twitching in feverish agony.  When had this all happened? When had Vegas first tied him up? When had he let the cold Steele of chains caress his skin before being replaced with a strategically placed strike to the skin of his muscular back, making him jolt violently. Another strike followed and he twitched again, unable to make the noises he needed to in order to express his pain, pleasure, and discomfort. He could feel his flesh burn and tingle with the fiery sensation of each blow delt to his back. "I asked you to obey, didn't I? You were doing so well... Why did you have to ruin it for yourself?"

Before Vegas said anything more, he pulled the gag out of Pete's mouth in a singular rough motion, merciless with how he was treating his lover. His Pet. His plaything. "Speak. Huh? Why did you do it?" Pete felt a new shiver run up his back as Vegas'voice was now directly in his ear, in his brain and taking control of every last movement occuring inside of him. Taking control of even the smallest organism. Taking control of his very soul. "I'm sorry daddy... I just wanted you to be rough with me" Vegas stifled back a mocking laugh, snorting to himself as he shot back up to stand straight, looking down at the victim before him. His victim. The victim of his endless, merciless, ruthlessly possessive and utterly overwhelming love. "Ask politely for it and I won't make you suffer in pain... Only pleasure"

Pete bit his lip, locking the words in his lungs tightly before a sigh escaped and everything flooded out along with it. "Daddy... Master... Please be rough with me... Treat me like a hopeless slut. Treat me like a cheap whore. I want you to take everything you want as violently as suits you best. My only purpose is to serve you... Let me serve you master..."

"You want to serve me?" Vegas asked, though clearly not looking for a response. As he left no time between his words and his actions, removing the blind fold and handcuffs, though leaving the ball-gag draped around his neck like jewelry. It was clear Pete's knees were already bruised, though he hadn't been sitting there long, so before anything else, Vegas tossed a pillow to the ground hoping it might add some comfort to the situation. That was, of course, before he circled the boy like a predator one last time and stopping right in front of him, crotch at eye level and not shy to express what he wanted with an impatient glance to the boys lips.

Pete didn't need verbal confirmation to know what he was supposed to to, his hands rushing to undo the clasp of his lovers belt, allowing him access to the button of his dress pants and then the zipper. Grasping what he wanted so badly, Pete wasn't shy to let his tongue and lips do the work for Vegas, deep, pleasured groans rumbling from the darkest pit of his belly. The further Pete's tongue and lips went, the further he took Vegas' member, the more he felt himself losing control of his senses, the urge to touch himself so great he almost broke under the pressure. Taking it as deep into his throat as he could without tearing up, Pete used his now freed hands to stroke the last few inches he couldn't quite fit. Soon enough, wet, slurping sounds filled the room, dancing a coordinate waltz with Vegas pleasured groans. That was, at least, until Vegas lost his patience, succumbing to his greed and grabbing tightly at a handful of Pete's jet black hair pulling it closer to his body and effectively choking the boy as the tip of his member thrust into the back of his throat.

Pete's eyes teared up almost immediately, struggling to contain a choked cough and his tears at once, but inevitably failing at both anyway. Helpless against the force of his lovers grip on his head, Pete clung desperately to Vegas' thigh, clawing into the fabric with twitching fingers and desperate gasps for air. "Three taps baby... Three taps" Vegas reminded Pete, but he refused to give the signal, refusing to stop what they were doing. He didn't care how fucked he looked already. He didn't care how much of a mess he was, tussled hair, tear stained face and saliva clinging to his chin. He wanted to taste Vegas to please. To die knowing he's made this psychopath experience the kind of bliss only a god should be able to get his hands on. He didn't care about how his lungs were screaming for air, how his throat was sore with the initial impact and how he couldn't control his drooling. He loved it all. He wanted more. He wanted to see more of Vegas' face like this, clear as day and overwhelmed with erotic sensation. Not much later, with one final groan, Vegas came inside Pete's mouth, the younger boys deshevled face now not only dripping sweat, tears, and drool, but also cum. He looked so pretty like this...

With out much further thought, Vegas pulled him up by his arm and pushed Pete onto the bed, discarding of his clothes and tossing them wherever. He was going to make Pete suffer the most pleasurable form of pain tonight if his life depended on it. Vegas wasted no time using the thick mixture of saliva and cum on his member as lube, thrusting into Pete right away, not a moment of hesitation or regret in his eye even as Pete cried out in pain. He wanted this so badly, but it still hurt so good. The second he heard Pete's strained voice, Vegas' had flew to his neck, squeezing at either side as if he'd precisely calculated where to put his fingers. The grip didn't squeeze his esophagus nor really restrict his airflow, but instead sent a wave of disabling, pleasured, fuzzy stimulus to his brain. It was like he was holding his breath, but his lungs weren't begging for more hair. It was just his head. It was just the fuzziness of his brain itself that sent him spiralling down a pit of masochistic fantasies he hadn't ever considered for himself before.

With every violent thrust into his body, his legs propped up to hug either side of Vegas' waist as he fucked into him, Pete felt himself lose control more. Vegas knew exactly where his sensitive spots were. He knew exactly where to find his prostate and how to extract every last drop of pleasure from it for an agonizingly long time. Pete panted heavily, his every breath cut off by his own hasty, loud moans and his fingers once again clawed into Vegas' skin. Neither of them could tell if the clawing had drawn forth blood or if it was just the sweat on his back from the intensity of his rough, jagged movements, but neither of them cared either way. Pete was in a state of ecstatic bliss and Vegas was so tempted by the his greed he couldn't stop even if he wanted to. He needed to fuck Pete as hard and long as he physically could- and even that was not enough. He needed to mark the boy, inside and out. He needed to claim his pet. To claim his prize. So he did. The lack of lubricant added to the experience, able to feel every last twitch to a t, able to notice exactly when Pete broke, what movements caused him to lose his mind and where he needed to be touched more. The pain brought the boy as much satisfaction as the pleasure did. It was all the same now. One sensation only came with the other.

Inching closer to release with a rapid increase of his pace in thrusts, Vegas could fully embrace the sight of the mind broken slut beneath him. Begging for for. Begging for his cock so deep that it destroyed him. Wanting to he bed ridden for days. Begging to be fucked so hard he would never be able to think for himself again. No string of words that left the boys mouth was comprehensible, but the older of the two knew anyway. He knew all too well. They'd done this too often before not to. What did it mean? Simple.

It meant 'I want more'.