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“I was thinking of adding some different settings,” Damen says. “Maybe some different kinds of vibrations.”
There’s a hum to his left where, unseen, Nikandros is watching. “How many?”
“Maybe three, to start with. We can gauge interest once we have this model on the market.”
Laurent jumps, when he feels a hand on his back. It sits on the dip of his spine, fingertips scratching over his skin. He wants to squirm, he’s so sensitive there, but he can’t move an inch.
“How many levels are on this one?” Nikandros asks.
“Six. Do you want to see them all?”
Laurent’s eyes widen. Six? He’d thought there was only three. He’d been promised there was only three. It was hard enough last time Damen had asked him to do this. He remembers with a shudder what it had felt like, how intense, how overwhelming, how too much the highest setting of vibrations had been in his ass. He can’t imagine what more would feel like. He isn’t sure he wants to.
He tries to protest, but the only noises he can make are muffled by the gag in his mouth. He realises, then, when the fact that there’s nothing he can do to stop this settles in, exactly what Damen has done. The betrayal settles low in his gut, and he hates himself for the way it makes his cock twitch.
“I’m almost afraid to see what that would look like,” Nikandros laughs. “Is he going to be able to take that much?”
Laurent tries to shake his head, no, he moans through the gag, please. But his neck is held still by the iron collar attached to the frame of the bench, and he would choke himself before he could so much as twitch it in either direction. He isn’t sure they would even notice if he did.
“Yes,” Damen says. “He will.”
That voice, that tone, no matter how much Laurent wants to hate him right now, makes his entire body shudder and go limp. Makes that familiar haze settle like a fog over his mind, warm and comforting and enticing him to just let go. Reminding him of how good it will feel to just do as he’s told.
But Laurent isn’t so easy as that.
When Damen’s hand dips over the swell of his ass and prods at his hole, lubed before he was strapped down to the bench, Laurent rails against his bonds. There’s little he can do, Damen modified the bench after the last time they’d used it, when Laurent had nearly struggled his way free, so now there are straps are over his chest, wrists, forearms, ankles and calves. There’s even an adjustable bar screwed in tight behind his thighs, keeping them pinned flat against the leather padding. When Laurent tries to fight against the bonds now, he can do little more than wriggle his ass an inch to either side.
The feeling of helplessness is overwhelming. Laurent screws his eyes shut, feeling panic rising in his chest, battling with the warm haze that entreats him to just accept it. He isn’t sure which will win out until he feels Damen move closer, feels his body draping over his back, hands brushing loose strands of hair that have fallen out of his bun back behind his ear. He feels a kiss on his neck, a hand tracing the line of the collar where it rests against his throat.
“Relax baby,” Damen cooes in his ear. “You want this just as much as I do.”
Does he? He thinks he had at the start of this, but that was before Damen had lied. Does that mean he doesn’t want it though? It’s so hard to tell.
He makes a whining sound into the gag. He hears Damen hush him again, feels kisses along his shoulder blades. “It’s alright sweetheart,” Damen murmurs. “I’ll take such good care of you, just let me make you feel good.”
It’s almost a wonder, how quickly Laurent relaxes after those words wash over him, how easy it is to let go of panic and fear, how simple it is to accept this. Damen makes him feel safe, even like this. A distant part of himself wonders if that’s a good thing.
“You finished?” Nikandros drawls boredly.
“Yeah, just some last minute maintenance,” Damen replies with a chuckle.
The way they speak about him, over him, like he’s not even there, makes Laurent shudder. The way Damen talks about him like he’s just some cog in the machine, just some part to be corrected and put back in place, makes him throb.
He doesn’t protest or resist when he feels a new hardness against his hole. He wishes Damen had given him his fingers first, wishes he’d spent some more time opening him up before moving straight onto business. That’s not what this is about though, Laurent reminds himself.
“You got the cameras set up?” Damen asks.
Laurent freezes again.
“Yep, you wanna check the angles before we start recording?”
Recording? They’re filming this? Laurent certainly hadn’t agreed to that. He feels a single thread of panic lance up through his chest. He remembers, like through a fog, that he doesn’t want them to do that, not really. He doesn’t want evidence of this out in the world, doesn’t want people he knows to see this, to recognise him, to know exactly what he’s done. He isn’t ashamed of it, he just… he doesn’t want… maybe he shouldn’t…
Damen’s hand rests on his spine again, pressing firmly. Whether he’d noticed Laurent’s panic and is trying to soothe him, or he just wanted something sturdy to lean on while he watches the monitor over Nik’s shoulder, Laurent can’t tell. He hopes it’s the former. Damen is always very attentive. He doesn’t like to mistreat his things.
“Can you move the second one to the left a bit? We don’t need his face in the shot.”
Laurent feels himself slump a bit in relief. As long as they’re not shooting his face, this will be fine, he thinks.
“Is the lighting ok for the underneath shot?”
“Should be,” Damen says. “We don’t want too much more, otherwise it’ll be readjusting to the shadow every three seconds.”
“We’re all good then,” Nikandros says. “Start it up when you’re ready.”
Damen walks around him again, trailing his hand over Laurent’s body as he goes. He walks to where the motor for the machine is, out of reach of Laurent. Laurent misses his touch like an ache.
Nik mutters something under his breath and Damen launches into his introductory tirade. “Hello, and welcome to the testing video for the iFuckMachine 2.0,” he says, voice dripping with false cheer and enthusiasm for some invisible audience. “This is our second remote controlled fucking machine. We’re excited to unveil that this machine has an additional three levels of vibration, all adjustable with the slider on the app here.” Laurent imagines him holding his stupid phone up, showing a screenshot from that garrish app to the camera. “It also has more powerful rotational capabilities, and more specific controls on our unique interface available here.”
Laurent stifles a groan. He remembers what those rotations had felt like. They’d been worse than the damn vibrations.
He whimpers quietly as hears Damen walking, heels clicking on the timber floorboards. He feels hyper aware of him, body instinctively leaning towards where he can feel his presence, like there’s an electric current binding them together.
“Today we’re going to demonstrate some of what it can do with our enthusiastic volunteer.” Laurent feels Damen’s hand on his back. He flinches, leaning into it as much as he can, feeling pathetically obvious as he does. “He’s strapped down to the iBitch Breeding Bench, also available on our website.”
Please, Laurent thinks, touch me. He wants it desperately, needs that comfort more than anything but Damen lets go and walks away again. Laurent thinks he goes to stand beside Nik, out of view of the cameras.
This is it, then, he thinks.
Why is he so scared.
“Let’s get started.”
The dildo is thicker than Laurent was expecting. It breaches his hole with the merciless preciseness of an uncaring machine, pressing in with an inhuman steadiness regardless of the way he whines and struggles when his rim stretches painfully wide to accept it’s girth. He moans when he feels the first ring of ridges, cringing as his hole stretches and closes over every one.
There’s a dull ache deep inside him, when the machine finally bottoms out. He wants to arch his back, alter the angle to alleviate the sharp pressure of the dildo inside his gut, stretching him deeper than he was ready for. But he can’t move. He can only take it, can only suffer through it, panting and keening like a bitch in heat as the dull ache lances up his spine in waves of heat and pain. A part of him hates the way it makes his cock jerk.
“The model used is a ribbed silicone dildo, nine inches in length and two and a half in diameter. A model of this size is recommended only for experienced bottoms.”
Experienced? Is that what he is? Laurent supposes with the amount of shit Damen has put him through at this point, it is hardly a lie.
“We’ll start at level one.”
Laurent jerks as much as he can in his bonds when the dildo starts to pull out. The heavy drag of it makes it feel like his insides are being pulled out after it.
“There’s eight levels of thrust speed, in addition to the six levels of vibration,” Damen says. “We’ll be sure to work through them all.”
A wave of hopelessness floods through Laurent. He doesn’t know if he can do that, he doesn’t know if his body can take that much. But what can he do? His protests are just mumbled nonsense moaned through his gag.
He has to trust that Damen knows his limits. Damen knows what he can take. He’ll stop if it really is too much. He will.
Laurent pants, hips grinding fruitlessly as the head of the dildo rests just inside him, before it starts to slide back in. It’s worse this time. Somehow the dildo drags across his prostate with agonising precision, every inch of it’s length rubbing against that sensitive nub of nerves so hard it makes Laurent’s thighs shake. It’s too much, too overwhelming too quickly to be pleasurable. He feels himself spasm, neck pulling against the collar and choking him.
When the dildo is all the way inside, it starts to vibrate. Laurent cries out, choking himself again as he jumps in surprise. The dildo is thicker around the base, and all the way inside him like that it presses ruthlessly against his prostate. Even this low level vibration makes him want to crawl out of his skin. It’s so much, too much, he feels tears well in his eyes.
“That’s the first level of vibration,” Damen says. “It will be quite intense, especially near the base, so be mindful of that when you turn it on for the first time. Most subs will find it too much.”
Laurent can barely hear Damen, but he wants to snort, rather hysterically, all the same. Of course what would be too much for most isn’t enough for Laurent. Laurent doesn’t know whether to be proud that Damen thinks he can take so much, or terrified that he doesn’t care.
The dildo starts to move again, this time a little faster. It pulls out until just the head is inside him, then steadily fucks back in. He feels his toes curl, trying to resist the intensity of eight inches of thick, vibrating cock dragging over his prostate, digging so deep inside him he can feel it in his stomach.
He shudders. He feels drool dripping out from his pried open mouth, hanging from his chin in uncomfortable, tacky strings. His cheeks feel wet. They’ve barely even started, and his cheeks are already wet.
“Level two thrusts now. As you can see I’ve adjusted the various sliders to make the pull out slower, and the thrusts a little faster. It’s a good way to give your sub some variety.”
Variety, like the dildo fucking him and vibrating at the same time wasn’t enough.
As though in punishment for his thoughts, the dildo speeds up again.
They progress steadily through the levels. Damen will turn the thrusting speed up a level or two, letting Laurent wallow in the too much pleasure/pain of the deep and steady fucking until just before he gets used to it, which is when he’ll turn up the vibrations, making Laurent’s thighs shake.
Laurent makes it to level five of those horrific thrusts and the third level of vibrations, which feels like he’s vibrating out of his skin, before he starts to cry openly. The drag against his prostate is too much, the intensity of the vibrations right there is too much, his whole body feels numb except for the sensations in his ass. He can’t take it, he wants to shake his head, tell Damen to stop, beg for mercy if he has to. This is insanity, Damen can’t really think he can take all this. They’ll stop any minute now, Damen will untie him, kiss him and tell him what a good job he’s done, and then Laurent never has to look at this machine again. Any minute now, Laurent is sure.
Damen keeps turning the machine up.
Despite the pain, despite how overwhelmed he feels, Laurent can feel his orgasm building. Level six of the thrusts and four of the vibrations somehow finds this balance of sensation that makes his entire body shake and thrum with this impossible too-much pleasure, and he can feel his orgasm building deep in his gut, like a thunderstorm waiting to break.
Damen must notice it in the hitch of his breath and the pitch of his moans, because suddenly he’s there again, right beside Laurent with his hand on Laurent’s back, soothing him. Laurent sags onto the bench, giving himself over to the ruthless fucking, if only to show Damen how good he can be, how well he can take it. He thinks he’ll be allowed to come and he wants it, despite how terrified he is of it. It will be so much. It will break him apart, but maybe then Damen will let him stop.
“Good boy,” Damen says, so quietly Laurent knows it’s meant for his ears only. “Halfway there.”
Only halfway? Laurent sobs, whining in desperate rage against the gag. He can’t help it. He can’t take much more of this. He can’t.
His cries are loud, even though they’re muffled. He wonders if Damen cares. He wonders if their invisible audience cares.
“I know you think you can’t do this,” he hears Damen mutter in his ear. He feels his hand stroke over his hair, nails running along his scalp. “But you can, I know you can.” Despite everything, Laurent feels warm at the thought of Damen’s faith in him. Damen believes in him, it would be such a shame if Laurent let him down.
“But more importantly than that, my darling,” Damen’s hand in his hair tighten’s sharply, “Is that no matter what, you will.”
Laurent feels ice down his spine. His chest feels tight, he can’t remember how to breathe. Lust pools in his groin, Damen’s words worm through him, lighting every nerve up that Laurent had hoped to keep hidden. It feels like being flayed open. He wants to scream.
He jumps, instead, when he feels Damen’s hands underneath him. There’s a split in the padding of the bench, where his cock and balls hands down. He can feel Damen’s hands on his cock, his touch almost painful, Laurent’s skin is so sensitive, so wound up. He thinks Damen is going to stroke him to orgasm, Laurent isn’t sure if he wants him to.
Instead, he feels a quiet snick, and the sensation of his cock being squeezed so tightly it hurts.
“He’s doing well, but we can’t have him finishing before the demonstration is over,” Damen says cheerfully to the camera, and then, only for Laurent to hear, “Good boys only get to come when they do as they’re told.”
Laurent realises what he’s done with a dull thud of shock. A cock ring is secured snug around his cock and balls and is holding his impending orgasm at bay, forcing that pressure of the pleasure and release it offered to simmer under his skin instead.
Laurent breaks down. What else can he do. Even orgasm has been denied him. He can’t take it, he can’t.
The machine carries on.
Level six feels like a blur. His ass ripples over the ridges of the dildo so fast it feels like his hole is broken, like there’s no resistance left and he’ll be left gaping forever, just a fucked open hole for Damen’s pleasure, a sleeve made for playing with. It’s a struggle to breathe when the vibrations catch up; his whole body feels like is shaking with them.
He’s a drooling mess. He can feel his eyes crossing, face going red as he slumps against the collar, letting it choke him because he simply can’t keep his head up any longer. He thinks he’s scratched through the padding under his hands, he feels it like a distant ache.
“Last level. This one is extremely intense, we don’t recommend it for beginners. For the experienced, however, it’ll bring you to heights of pleasure you can hardly stand.”
Laurent feels like he’s floating somewhere outside of his body. It’s too much, he can’t take it. He’s surprised he’s still conscious, really. When the final level of thrusts and the accompanying level of vibrations kick in, he feels like he’s going to die.
The pressure of his denied orgasm feels like a coiling snake inside him, constricting in his gut, joining pain and pleasure in this wondrous, awful whole that splits him apart at the seams. He feels a wetness against his stomach and thighs. Has he wet himself? The way the dildo is punch fucking him like it wants to punish him, vibrating in his hole like it wants to split him open, he wouldn’t be surprised. Something had to give. He can’t even bring himself to feel humiliated.
He’s babbling nonsense against the gag, drooling like a dog, nothing more than a pathetic, mindless beast. His mouth feels so dry, he can hardly swallow. He wants something to suck on, something to do other than drool like a dumb whore. He aches for a cock, a real cock. He wants it with a distant delirium that simmers through his fucked out haze obsessively.
His body is thrashing, clenching around the dildo. He feels it distantly, but it hurts to focus on. Everything feels so far out of reach, it hurts to think about. It feels almost like he’s coming, the way his muscles contract again and again and again but he can’t, because Damen won’t let him. It’s so unfair, that he should have to take all this and not even be allowed to come. He giggles at the thought. Damen is so mean.
“And now for the grand finale,” he hears, whispered in his ear. Damen , he thinks. His whole being lights up at the thought. He feels like he’s been slammed back into his body, the fog clearing in an instant, and suddenly every sensation is so much more intense. It feels like he’s burning alive and freezing all at once.
“Let go for me, Laurent,” Damen says. “You’ve been such a good boy.”
He hears a snap, over the thunder of the machine. He feels it, the pressure around his cock suddenly gone. For a moment he’s afraid. He doesn’t know if he can bear an orgasm, not with the machine fucking him so ruthlessly. He knows Damen won’t turn it off, not even when he’s done. That’s not what Damen does.
But he can’t stop it. The second his cock is free from it’s binds, Laurent is coming.
His body convulses, a full body, violent thing that wrenches him so hard against his bonds his entire body feels like a bruise. He screams, even though the gag muffles him, because he’s so sure, in that moment, that he is dying. His body simply can’t take this. It’s too much.
His eyes roll, he bites down on the gag so hard his jaw aches. Please, he wants to beg. Please, that’s enough, this is madness.
But the machine doesn’t stop. It fucks him through it, so hard his orgasm never seems to end.
When it does, the true agony sets in.
He’s not allowed to go soft, not with the way the machine is fucking him, but he’s so sensitive it’s unbearable. It feels like there’s one constant electric current surging through him, burning him alive.
“You got it all?” He hears, somewhere above him.
“Sure did, that was fucking amazing.”
“You want to have a go at him?”
“Nah, wouldn’t mind seeing you fucking his mouth though.”
Laurent feels hands on him, brushing through his hair and fiddling with the ties behind his head. The ball gag falls out of his mouth so suddenly Laurent almost misses it happening. He feels empty for a brief moment, before it’s replaced with something so much better.
Laurent could recognise Damen’s cock blindfolded. The scent of it, the taste of it, the heavy weight of it in his mouth is so familiar he thinks he knows it better than his own cock. It’s so nice to suck on, so nice to have inside him while the loveless, uncaring machine fucks his ass to pieces. It’s so nice to choke on, when Damen fucks his throat. So nice, he doesn’t even care that he can’t breathe. He’ll choke on Damen’s cock, if that’s what Damen wants. Whatever Damen wants. It feels so nice to give it to him, to be the only one who can.
“God you’re perfect,” Damen says.
Laurent feels a tear slip out of his eye. He feels warmth coil up inside him, somehow washing out the agony of oversensitivity. He thinks he could come again, with Damen fucking him like this. He almost wants to.
“Can I?” He hears someone say. Laurent had forgotten they weren’t alone.
“Oh fuck yes,” Damen groans. “Wait until he’s about to come.”
Laurent wonders what they’re planning, but it’s so hard to focus on thoughts, so hard to focus on anything but Damen’s cock. It tastes so good, he wants to suck on it forever.
The harder Damen fucks him the closer Laurent feels. When the thick, viscous taste of his semen assaults Laurent’s senses, his eyes roll back and he feels his body tense, ready to crest over that agonising edge again.
Except, the moment before it does, the dildo begins to spin.
Laurent screams, this time without the gag to muffle him. He thrashes, he can’t stop, his entire body jerking and shaking as he experiences the most agonising, all-consuming orgasm in his life. The dildo is punch fucking his slack hole, spinning right over his prostate on every pass, vibrating so hard he can see stars and he comes again and again and again until his whole existence is narrowed to the rise and fall of every contraction, every mind numbing wave. He can’t see. He can’t breathe. He is nothing but sensation, a mindless fuck sleeve that can’t stop coming.
When it finally ends, he feels like a puppet whose strings have been cut. His body goes slack, every muscle giving out all at once. Even though the machine is still assaulting his ass, he can’t bring himself to fight it anymore. He’s nothing more than a doll to be used, a thing to be fucked, limp and lifeless and barely human.
He feels, distantly, a cooling wetness on his back, dripping down his sides. Oh, Laurent thinks, Nik must have come on his back.
The thought should bother him. It doesn’t.
“That’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Damen says.
Laurent mewls, voice croaking pathetically.
“You think he’s had enough?” Nik’s asks.
“Turn it back down to one.”
The dildo slows, the vibrations lessening, the agonising spin little more than a gentle rocking. Laurent barely even reacts. He doesn’t care anymore.
He cracks his eyes open a little, when he senses someone crouching before him. He sees Damen, his beautiful, handsome face filling his vision like some kind of heavenly apparition. Another tear leaks out of Laurent’s eye. He isn’t sure why.
He feels Damen brush it away. He feels Damen’s hands cradle his head, brushing sweaty strands of hair off of his forehead. “You were wonderful,” Damen says. “Did you like that?”
Did Laurent like that?
Did he like being fucked like a piece of meat, worked so hard and for so long he barely feels like a human anymore? Did he like his hole being broken open and used like a sleeve, to show some faceless stranger on the internet how easy he was, how good and slack and fuckable his hole was for this merciless, ruthless machine? Did he like Damen using him so carelessly, regardless of what he wanted?
No. Maybe. Laurent doesn’t know.
He closes his eyes when he feels them sting. He gasps, the sound of it hitching with a sob.
“Oh come on darling, it’s alright, you did so well. I know it’s a lot, but you loved it, didn’t you?”
Laurent opens his mouth. “I-- Damen--”
“Shhh,” Damen says. He presses a kiss to Laurent’s slack mouth. “We’ll talk about it later, ok?”
“Okay,” Laurent says.
“I love you,” Damen kisses into his cheek. “My beautiful little toy.”
“I love you, too,” Laurent whispers back.