How to train a dog

                                    

Your eyes fluttered open, immediately blinded by the pale white lights. A wave of dizziness washed over you when you tried to make sense of where you were, and you attempted to sit up. Cold metal cuffs dug into your wrists, holding you in place. A sharp sting nipped at your balls as you let out a small yelp.

"Steady now, you're only going to hurt yourself." An all too familiar voice pressed his hand against your bare chest; pushing you harder against the cold tile.

Dr. Wesker.

A sense of relief was soon replaced by fear. He had you chained to the floor, naked, with some sort of cord tightly gripping your testicles. Had he found a replacement? Were you being fired? Is this your execution?

Please don't kill me. The words didn't come out, only slurred gibberish. The dizziness increased with every effort, soliciting a groan. He moved his hand to cover your mouth, shushing you.

"Now now, rest assured you are as safe as possible." Wesker circled around, inspecting and touching every inch of you. "Good, nothing too severe."

He wasn't wearing the entirety of his usual attire; his leather trench coat was missing and his shirt was completely unzipped, his chest exposed. You opened your mouth to speak again, and managed to make a sound close to "What?". His inspection was cut short by the sound of the door opening, followed by a majini holding a small tray. It handed the tray off to Wesker before being sent back outside.

"I'm sure you have questions," Wesker knelt beside you, placing the tray down. "about why you're in this situation. I took notice of the way you worked, and how you looked when you worked." His hand cupped your cheek. "Think of it as a promotion, you get to be my...pet." Leather fingers traced the curve of your bottom lip.

Before you could process what was said, Wesker met your lips with his. They were thin and dry, lacking any and all warmth. You let gasped at the feeling, unwillingly granting him access deeper into your mouth. The taste of whiskey burned your tongue, but it was somehow captivating. Moaning against him, you lazily kissed back. In all the excitement the cord and cuffs were forgotten about, you shifted you hips, and there was a tug. Another yelp through clenched teeth as Wesker pulled away, wiping his mouth.

"Ah yes, I'd almost forgotten." He moved in front of your spread legs, inspecting downwards. "They are almost the right color, just barely purple, beautiful really."

You flung your head back with a cry as Wesker pinched them. Your reaction was music to his ears. He smirked slightly and grabbed a silver rod from the metal platter. He examined it for a good 10 seconds before tilting your decently sized shaft up at an angle. He used the small bit of precum dripping from the head to lubricate the rod slightly. He stared at you as he softly slipped the rod into your penis as far as it will go.

You threw your head back and screamed from your very core. It stung a lot surprisingly, but the pleasure soon kicked in, making the pain a little bit more tolerable. Wesker gently stroked your tip, which was a futile effort to calm you down.

"That's a good boy, you're doing well. I'm going to move on to the next one, be ready." He cooed.

You nod your head hesitantly, his face blurs as you blink away tears. You bit your lip with a loud groan as he takes it agonizingly slow, your cock burned for every second of it. You couldn't tell if it was pain, pleasure, or both. He placed the dripping rod back onto the tray, this time picking up a thicker, screw like one. You took a shaky breath and laid back, bracing yourself on the chains.

No amount of effort could hold back the screams. Cold jagged metal scraped your walls, sending what felt like (something electric) across your entire body. The stretch is divine. Your cock twitched against the metal, begging for more. Wesker answered it's call, taking your entire length into his leathery hand, slowly speeding up with each stroke.