Work Text:
“Feel good, baby?” Ilya drawls, a twinkle in his eyes. He’s lounging on the bed, thighs splayed wide, a cigarette dangling from his hand.
Shane moans through his gag, the only reply he can give.
“Didn’t tell you to stop,” Ilya reminds him, taking a slow drag of the cigarette. “Keep going, kitten.”
Every inch of him screams in protest, but the collar around his throat has his hips moving, rutting against the toy. Shane’s eyes roll back at the forced pleasure, the humiliation of it all—kneeling on the floor and fucking his hips against the dildo, even though his cock is locked behind metal. A cock cage, specially designed just for Shane, that vibrates like nothing else Shane’s ever known. It feels like plucking at a raw nerve—overwhelming, relentless.
“Please,” Shane tries to beg, focusing his gaze on Ilya for a second before the pleasure makes everything hazy again. With the gag, it comes out as a pathetic garble, and Ilya laughs, cruel.
“What was that, puppy?” Ilya croons. “Can’t understand you, doll.”
Shane’s cock blurts at that, hips moving in reckless abandon. God, the dildo is fucking wet from how much he’s leaking, all nine inches of it dripping with his pre.
“Please,” Shane begs again. Plee—th, is what Ilya hears.
“You begged for this, remember?” Ilya blows a smoke ring, his other hand dipping into his shorts. “Last night. You said you only wanted to come on my cock.”
Last night—when Ilya triggered the collar and made Shane edge himself with a vibrator for hours, refusing to let him come. When Shane, sobbing with desperation had begged and pleaded and agreed to just everything Ilya had asked—which was being locked in a cage and being denied until the end of time, apparently. God, Shane’s so horny it feels like he could fucking die, nipples tight and hot and cock aching. His chest is wet from the drool slipping out of the gag, hands cuffed behind his back. The rug is soft against his knees, a cruel contrast to the burning heat of his cock. Maybe Ilya drugged him with the aphrodisiacs again—Shane certainly feels wild enough for it.
“Answer me,” Ilya clicks his tongue, and the collar sparks sharply against Shane’s skin, the jolts going straight to his cock.
“Y—Yes,” Shane wails, nodding his head frantically. “I’m sorry, Sir.”
Shane’s voice comes out as nothing but pathetic whimpers and garbled words, but Ilya seems pleased anyway.
“Good,” Ilya says, satisfied. “Stop.”
Shane slumps in relief, tears running down his cheeks. God, he needs to come, he needs the vibrations on his cock to stop, he needs—
Shane lets out a startled wail when there’s a sharp grip in his curls, wrenching his head up, spine straight. Ilya. When did he get off the bed?
“Focus, puppy,” Ilya clips his chin. Shane hiccups, nodding. “Lift up.”
Thighs screaming with the effort, Shane lifts up until he’s no longer on his haunches, tilting forward until all his weight is balanced on his knees.
“So wet,” Ilya teases, tapping his hole with his fingertips. Shane’s eyes cross at the sensation—he’s so starved for touch back there that even the slightest simulation has him whimpering like a bitch in heat. “Must feel so empty, hm?”
Shane whines, drool slipping out of the gag. Yes.
Ilya smacks his ass, hard. Shane cries out as the blooming pain goes straight to his cock, pleasure so intense he briefly blacks out. He doesn’t come, can’t come—the collar tight around his throat making sure of it.
“Asked you a question,” Ilya says, slapping his face this time. Shane moans, head lolling. “Are you empty?”
“Yes, Sir,” Shane slurs, tongue thick in his mouth. “S—So empty.”
“Good,” Ilya whispers into his ear, teeth sharp. “Now stay still.”
Shane’s posture locks into position, the collar’s conditioning ingrained deeply into his being. He can’t disobey a direct command from Ilya, much as he wants to.
Does he even want to, at this point? It’s been—Shane doesn’t even remember if it’s been weeks or months or years since Ilya first put the collar around him, since Shane’s will bent and twisted around Ilya’s whispered words.
A sharp pinch on his hip brings him back to the present, against the sudden burning in his hole.
“Special lube,” Ilya murmurs, fucking his fingers into Shane. Oh, god. “Had it delivered just for you. Hurts?”
It hurts. Shane gasps as the burning intensifies, spreading everywhere. Shane whimpers and moans as he tries to hump his hips forward to ease the burning itch, but no dice—the collar keeps him steadfast.
Shane wheezes when Ilya squirts more of the lube onto his hole, dripping down to his balls. His eyes cross as the sensation registers, well and truly registers, and he’s screaming—
Ilya pushes him down on the dildo in the same breath, relentless. “There we go,” Ilya’s grip on his shoulders is deathly tight. “There we fucking go, kitten.”
It’s too much. It’s too much.
Shane chokes on his breath, full. God, he’s so full. The lube burns and aches and the dildo is so deep it feels like it’s in his guts, and the vibrations on his cock still. Haven’t. Stopped.
Shane desperately tries to do anything, fucking anything to try to squirm away from the sensations, but he can’t move an inch, immobilised in place. He has no choice but to feel all of it—every inch of the dildo plugging his burning, aching ass.
“Stand up,” Ilya whispers, delighted. Shane moans, knees buckling when he tries to get his feet underneath himself. Gravity pulls the dildo down but not out—Shane’s hole is too tight for that. Ilya spells it back to damn near virgin—tightness every evening for that to ever happen.
“Walk,” Ilya commands, and Shane sobs with each step. Full, full, full, his brain screams at him, overwhelmed with sensation. His cock throbs, but he can’t fucking come.
Ilya’s fingers curl around the nape of Shane’s neck, pushing him face first onto the bed. Shane hiccups on a moan, rubbing his face into the soft covers. It’s achingly soft against his burning skin.
Shane can hear Ilya fiddling with something behind his back, but he honestly could not be fucking bothered to check—almost dizzy with the sensations coursing through his body.
“Deep breath,” Ilya says softly.
Shane breathes in deep, too far down—the only thing anchoring him to this world is Ilya’s voice. He’s lost in a sea of pleasure.
There’s a click of a button, and then—
Shane screams as the dildo is dragged out of him roughly, then fucked back in with twice the strength.
“Gorgeous,” Ilya’s voice is smooth as honey, and Shane can barely hear it above his wailing.
Fucking machine, he realises. Ilya’s got him hooked up on a fucking machine.
The dildo slams back into him before he can take a full breath, bruising his prostate. Shane’s cock throbs and throbs, begging to come, to ease the pressure, but no, the dildo rams back in over and over. Directly hitting his prostate like it’s got fucking coordinates to it, leaving Shane cross eyed with the pleasure.
“Tomorrow will be fun, mm?” Ilya chuckles darkly. “Team is coming over. You will be crying and choking on their dicks, but you will not be able to come. Such a good trick.”
Shane barely hears any of it, too lost in the sensations of the dildo fucking into him, at the lube making him burn, the vibrations deep in his cock.
Well and truly fucked out of any coherent thought.