After not having ideas or motivation to write this all day, I've somehow managed to get a pretty good story out of my 'fuck it I'm making a short one' idea
Enjoy!
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Ian's new toy had been a long debated and considered idea of his. Though, as he brought the young man to his house, he couldn't of been happier with his decision.
The smaller looked around the house in awe, arms subconsciously covering what his little bit of clothing didn't. He blushed as he noticed the other, his master, staring at him and tried to cover up more, obviously embarrassed with the attention on his body.
The words Ian had been told earlier ran though his mind 'hasn't been used before, but'll need training.' The longer he observed the other, the more true they seemed.
He let out a sigh and grabbed the smaller's arm, dragging him off to the bedroom to see just how much work would need to be done.
By the end of the night, it was clear the the other had little to no idea about what he was and what his purpose was. He moaned, screamed, writhed, and dug his nails into whatever he could get his hands on. He didn't obey a single 'quite' or 'stop' and even went as far as to leave scratch marks all over Ian's shoulders and back.
He had whimpered as a plug had been pushed into him and gave a shocked look when he was told not to put his clothes back on. He had blushed a bright red as he was lead to a guest room, barely able to walk, and gave a nod as he was told to never lock the door. He had stumbled in and collapsed on the bed, quickly falling asleep from how tired the one session had made him.
By the end of the week, his body ached with over sensitivity from rough, daily sessions. He horribly failed to muffle his moans, no matter how hard he willed himself to keep quite. He tried to keep his hands on the sheets and trembled as he tried to keep still.
By the end of the month, he had gotten used to the aching feeling and the frequent sex. He had started quieting down and felt surges of pleasure when he was aloud to be loud. He had started digging his nails into his palms, no longer allowed to do so do the sheets.
He moaned as a plug was put back in, only ever being removed for him to be used, and felt a surge of arousal at the thought of the other's cum being trapped inside of him. He leaned against the wall as he made his way back to his room, used to not being able to walk, and didn't even bother closing the door as he curled up on the bed, waiting to be called for again.
A few weeks passed and he regretted nothing more than to confessing that he was a masochist. He endured more spanking, biting, and whipping he could of imagined and dreaded nothing more than when Master started experimenting with denial.
He whimpered and whined as the older came in him and pulled out, not allowing him to come. His plug was put back in and he whined as he was told to go to his room and not to touch himself.
A few more days passed like that before he broke and, much to his horror, was caught with his hands between his legs. Fear overtook him at the evil smirk on the older's face and he soon found himself with his hands handcuffed behind him and a cage around his member that wouldn't even let him get hard.
He let out small whimpers and moans of pain as he was pound in and out of and the strain on the cage only got stronger. He felt an odd sense of relief when he felt the familiar hot liquid inside him and felt it quickly replaced with dread as only the handcuffs were removed.
He had dared to ask why the cage had to stay on and blushed as he was told that 'bad little sluts have to be punished.' He trembled as he tried to get back to his room, body aching impossibly bad with a pleasure that couldn't be released.
A month more and the punishment had turned permanent, his master finding the constantly turned on and on edge version of him much hotter and more fun to play with.
He, surprisingly, found himself okay with the new predicament and found himself slowly replacing his own pleasure with the other's. He was no longer allowed to come, but feeling his master pulsating and filling him with cum that would soon be plugged in him had become enough.
He would crawl back to his room afterwards, body too weak and sensitive to walk, and lay on the floor until he had the energy to climb onto the bed. He'd play with his plug, softly moaning as it went in circles, and would wipe away any cum that manged to escaped with his fingers, licking it off to clean himself.
Six months passed and he found himself giving sexy eyes up to his master as he slowly sucked him off, pumping him with one hand as he did so. He would either moan as his mouth was filled before swallowing or would whine and moan as cum spurted all over his face.
He lived for his master's pleasure, if was more important that his own after all, and would feel pure ecstasy whenever he did a good enough job to fucked as a reward. He still couldn't come, but sex had become so rare that the feeling of being slammed in and out of was a treat in and of itself.
He mainly gave blowjobs and handjobs now, enjoying mouth fucking and enduring throat fucking. His master seemed to have an interest in limiting his pleasure at the moment and, oddly enough, he didn't care. As long as he could give Master pleasure and, if he was lucky, taste his addictingly salty cum, he was happy.
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986 words! Wow, this turned out a lot longer and better than I thought it would be...
Hope you enjoyed!
~Angel ^-^
