Pain Slut

by J. A. Rock

  “A pig hole?” He sat up.

  I handed it to him. The tip was fairly narrow, but the flared part was about two inches in diameter. He stared at the hollow tube inside. “What goes in here?”

  “Well, anything you want, really. Fingers. Crop handle. My dick.” I tried to say it casually, but he looked up.

  “Your dick fits in here? I’d think the plug’s too small.”

  “Aw, that’s flattering. Yes. It’s a tight squeeze, but I’ll have lots of lube.” I didn’t tell him yet what I’d be using as lube.

  “So you wanna fuck me with this thing in?”

  “Yes. Only if you’re up for it.”

  He held the pig hole up to his eye like a spyglass and peered at me through it. He really would get along well with Kamen.

  He lowered the plug and tilted his head, studying me. A tiny smile played on his lips. “What are you going to do?”

  “How much do you trust me?”

  I watched the light shift in his eyes, catching the violet contacts. “I trust you,” he said calmly.

  That gave me a rush, hearing him say that. His soft voice, the determination in his gaze.

  “I’m not, um . . .” He sighed. “I need to take anal stuff a little slow sometimes.”

  “Of course.”

  I reached out and stroked his long hair. Let the tips of my fingers graze his cheek. He closed his eyes, and I could have owned heaven in that moment. I slid my hand down his chest, my thumb catching on his nipple. He didn’t open his eyes, but he shuddered slightly and sucked his stomach in. I did it again. His nipple started to harden, and I rubbed a rough circle around it. He inhaled, raising his arms above his head, palms out.

  I shoved him back against the headboard and pinned him there, kissing him. He opened his mouth to let my tongue in, and I found the sharp ends of his canines, pressing harder with my tongue until I tasted blood. His eyes flew open, and I wondered if he was tasting it too.

  I had to force myself to pull away. Otherwise I’d have been lost, I’d have been crazy, I’d have sucked and kissed and bitten him until I came just from the sounds he was making.

  I tried to steady my breathing. “Hands and knees.”

  He gazed at me for a second, then got into position.

  I smoothed my palm over his back and then pushed his shoulders lightly, guiding him forward. His pale, narrow back dipped, and I ran my fingers in zigzags over his skin until he shivered. Then I played with his ass for a few minutes, stroking it until he was shifting to try to meet my hand. Reached under him to give his cock a couple of pumps.

  I picked up the pig hole and showed it to him. His breath snagged, and I kept rubbing his shoulders. After a moment, he bowed his head, relaxing visibly. I opened the lube and smeared it all over the outside of the plug.

  I brushed my slick fingers over his hole, then pushed them gently inside. He was tight; I was surprised at how tight. I thrust gently a few times, getting him used to the sensation, feeling him loosen as his breath came faster. Then I withdrew my fingers and stuck them into the plug’s hollow center. Lined up the tip of the plug and slowly pushed.

  The tapered part went in fairly easily, but the wider it got, the more trouble Drix had. Eventually he twisted away.

  “Sorry,” he muttered. “I don’t know why I can’t . . .”

  “It’s okay.” I glanced down at the plug. Noticed what the problem might be. I patted his ass, not sure how to say this without embarrassing him. “I think there’s a little, uh, resistance in there.”

  “Oh God.” He clasped his hands together and set his forehead on them like he was praying. “That’s gross. Sorry.”

  “No worries.” I stroked his thigh lightly with my fingertips. Leaned to kiss his shoulder. “I have a shower shot nozzle. Depends on how bad you want to do this.”

  He stretched out and rolled over. My gaze immediately went to his dick, which was so hard it curved over his belly. He half smiled. “So, I think I get what that means. But I, um, don’t bottom a lot, and I’ve never, like . . . cleaned out.”

  His cheeks were slightly red. I felt an unexpected rush of protectiveness toward him. A total sadist, apprehensive about douching. Very cute.

  I smiled. “No problem. It’s simple. You wanna shower with me?”

  He stared at me for a long moment, then nodded shyly.

  We headed to the bathroom. I turned on the shower and let it heat up while I doused the shower shot nozzle with some rubbing alcohol. I caught Drix glancing at the nozzle a couple of times with a forced casualness.

  “Get in,” I told him, giving him a quick kiss.

  He had to duck into the shower to avoid hitting his head on the curtain rod. I watched his lean muscles bunch as he climbed in. This was going to be fun.

  And it really was. I spent so much time making out with him and soaping him up that by the time we got to the part where I attached the nozzle and helped him guide it in, he was completely relaxed. I pulled back the curtain so he could step out and get on the toilet, and then drew the curtain again so he had some privacy. When he was done, he climbed back into the shower with me, and I had to get quite stern with him to thwart his plan for a mutual handjob.

  I shut the water off and handed him a towel.

  I watched him squeeze his long hair dry. “What?” he asked when he caught me staring.

  “Nothing. I just like your hair. I don’t know if I’ve ever said that.”

  He grinned and stepped out of the tub, offering an arm to steady me as I followed, then looking down at the puddles on the tile. “Sorry, I pretty much flooded this place when I got out before.”

  “It’s fine.” It really was. More and more, I was loving the sort of messes we made together.

  I might unravel more of the world by letting him go than I would by letting myself need him.

  Back in the bedroom, I sat cross-legged on the bed. He tried to get back on all fours, but I had him lie down instead. Spent a long time rubbing his back, until the water evaporated from his skin. After a while, he shifted and curled next to me, his head in my lap.

  I went tense, but with wonder more than anything.

  He really was incredibly sweet. And open, and trusting, and just . . . beautiful.

  I combed through his damp hair with my fingers.

  “That feels good,” he murmured.

  When I was done with his hair, I moved to his shoulders, tracing circles and then random patterns. He started wiggling. Finally he rolled so he could look up at me.

  “I’m so hard,” he whispered, showing me. He was certainly not exaggerating. “You make me so hard.”

  I smiled. He had just said what he was feeling, in a way I was rarely able to. And he was equally at home talking dirty or talking sweet. He was a lot like my friends, who hugged, curled up together, said “I love you” at the end of our phone conversations . . . It was a skill I hadn’t learned, that level of candidness, that boundless affection. Sitting here with his head in my lap, seeing that complete trust, I could suddenly understand why Bowser had commented on my dislike of aftercare.

  I’d always assumed that any sort of neediness on my part would be unattractive and inconvenient to a top. I wanted my partners to admire my high pain threshold and my resilience. You could do a quick, hard, dirty scene with me, and I wouldn’t cry on your shoulder afterward. Wouldn’t need to sleep over or use your shower. I’d just get up and be on my way.

  But this was wonderful. I’d helped Drix do something he’d never done before, and now he was completely at ease with me, completely . . .

  Mine.

  I felt somewhat unsteady as I looked around my room. Thought about Drix in this house with me. With my son and me.

  Stupid. Stupid, stupid. How long had we known each other? A few weeks? The other day I’d been ready to break up with him, and now suddenly I wanted him to be my . . .

  Stupid.

  I brought myself back to reality. Drix and I were alone together, and this seemed like a
safe place to try something new. I let my fingertips graze his cock. Watched his thighs flex in response. “You’re gorgeous,” I said. “And did anyone ever tell you you’re very sweet?”

  His smile held a hint of sadness. “I did date someone who used to say that. But he kind of ultimately decided he’d rather have a bodybuilder than ‘sweet.’”

  “What an idiot.” I traced the line of dark-blond hair that led from his navel to his groin.

  Drix swallowed. “Well, thanks.” He contracted his stomach with a small gasp as I traced the path again. “We didn’t date very long. I never, uh, told him about the Dark Ravens. Just pretended I was going out with friends when I went to meetings.”

  “Oh?”

  “I mean, usually that’s not a first-date revelation for me. Just, with you, because of the kink thing, I thought it’d be okay to tell you.”

  I felt a sharp, terrible guilt. “I am so sorry.”

  “No, no. I didn’t mean you should feel bad. I totally get why it’s weird for an almost-thirty-year-old to pretend to be a vampire.”

  I slid my hand over to capture one of his. “I’m glad you have the Dark Ravens.”

  “Thanks. They’re really good. I mean, just in terms of learning to take care of people and trust one another with our bodies and our hearts. I feel like . . . my family’s pretty touchy-feely, but nothing like the coven.”

  “The Dark Ravens sound a lot like my friends.” I rubbed Drix’s hip with my other hand. “They’re very affectionate. And for me, it’s strange, because my parents weren’t big huggers or touchers. I didn’t feel unloved or anything, but I think I’d like to be a different sort of parent to my son.”

  He nodded. “That’s good. People need a lot of contact.”

  “I guess so.”

  After a while he said, “Are we gonna try the thing you want to do?”

  We tried again with Drix on all fours. I added more lube, spent more time stretching him with my fingers. Guided the plug in slowly, letting him get used to it. He finally pushed back with a grunt, and it slid in.

  I kissed his shoulder. “Very nice.”

  He twisted as he accepted the pressure, the burn. “Mmm.” The sound was mostly lust, but perhaps a tiny bit of distress.

  “Come on,” I whispered. “You want to feel me hurt, don’t you?”

  His damp hair had parted, and it slipped to either side of his neck as he ducked his head. “Yes.”

  “It’s all right.” I lifted his hair and smoothed it all to one side. He laughed softly and squirmed. I ran my fingers along the edge of his ear. “You would not believe what this looks like.”

  “Is it . . . What’s it look like?”

  No way was this the same dirty-talker who’d fucked me in his car. He sounded uncertain.

  I took several long moments to stare at his ass and think about my answer. I’d had pig holes used on me a few times, but only once had I seen someone else wearing one. An older guy I’d scened with a few times in college.

  Seeing it in Drix was beyond what I was prepared for. His hole was spread wide around the silicone tube, and I could actually see inside him. It felt wrong and filthy and cruel. And gorgeous. I shouldn’t be able to see that far into someone’s body. I stuck my fingers inside him again and just looked. At my fingers buried deep. At the way the plug held him open for me.

  “God,” I whispered.

  “You like it?” he asked.

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Can you see, like, in me?” His voice trembled slightly.

  “Yeah. You’re wide open.”

  He shivered. That undid me. That just crept the fuck up and kidnapped my ability to reason. “Feels weird.” His laugh was higher pitched than usual. He was nervous.

  I dragged my finger along the bones of his spine. “Bad weird?”

  He shook his head.

  I went back to the gear bag. Grabbed the vial of cinnamon oil.

  When I turned again, he was watching me, cheek pillowed on his arms, grinning. His ass still high in the air. I grinned back. “This is sexy, right?”

  “Totally.”

  A grave, hungry expression replaced his smile. “What’re you gonna do to me?” he whispered.

  I opened the vial. “Gonna fuck you.”

  He looked confused as I poured some oil onto my fingers. I walked around behind him and slicked the inside of the plug with a very thin layer, careful not to let the oil dribble down past the silicone. I didn’t want him to feel the burn—only me. The oil I used was diluted with water-based lube—I had no interest in second-degree burns—but it was potent nonetheless, and my fingers were already starting to prickle.

  When I was done, I went to the bathroom to wipe the oil off my hand. The smell was strong. Made me feel even dirtier, that fucking Yankee Candle smell, and the knowledge of what I was about to do. I returned to the bedroom.

  Drix was exactly where I’d left him. His spine stood out in sharp relief. He had his face pressed into the comforter now, but I saw his body tense slightly as I approached.

  I got on the bed behind him. Knelt and positioned my cock at the pig hole’s entrance. Took a deep breath. This was going to hurt like fuck.

  Slowly, I pushed my bare cock into the silicone channel. It took a couple of seconds for the burn to start, and even then, it wasn’t too bad. But then some oil smeared across my slit. I jerked, groaning, fighting a wave of nausea. Drix stayed perfectly still, breathing hard.

  The oil coated the length of my shaft, seeping into the skin, burning me all over. The pressure was building in my balls, and the sight of Drix’s back muscles contracting and releasing was just fucking gorgeous.

  I kept thrusting, sheathing myself to the balls each time, and the oil kept burning my cock. Bile rose in my throat, and I reached under Drix to grab him. Drix moaned, pushing into my hand.

  “Does it hurt?” he asked.

  “Ohhhhh, yeah.”

  “Use me,” he whispered. “Take all the pain you need.”

  I pushed in again, and the fire came in waves, building and then easing for a second, only to build again. I groaned, stroking his dick.

  I rubbed my balls with my free hand, trying to get the pleasure to outweigh the agony. Not a chance. My thighs were starting to tingle. I used short, sharp strokes, letting the sight of my cock buried inside him increase my desire. I let go and I came. The burning eased a bit as the oil was flushed out of my slit. A few more strokes, and he came too.

  I pulled out. Carefully removed the plug.

  Drix sank down onto the bed. “Never done that before.”

  I stretched out beside him. “Me either.” I winced. “Still burning.”

  He stared at me. Stroked my cheek with his thumb. “Can you stay like this? All night?”

  I nodded. “For you? Yeah.” Wasn’t like I could wash my dick without making the burn worse. Milk or olive oil would help with the heat, but would increase the mess. So yes, I would stay here. Just like this.

  For him.

  He wrapped his arms around me. “I want you to feel it all night.”

  “Okay,” I whispered. I settled against him, concentrating on the pulse of the burn. It lessened as the minutes passed, but every now and then I had to push my groin against him in an effort to get some relief, some distraction from the pain. Each time, he kissed me and ran a hand over my hair. But he let me keep suffering.

  Two weeks later, I had a confirmation from Cheryl that my adoption of James would move forward, pending a visit to my workplace at the end of the month. I also had an email from Ellie Graham, head of the Kinky Students Society at Hymland College, thanking me for agreeing to be a guest speaker.

  Since I had never agreed to any such thing, I headed to Dave and Gould’s after work.

  The front door was, of course, unlocked. I could hear voices in the kitchen, but when I got there it was only Dave, reading a comic. His phone was on speaker beside him, Kamen’s voice on the other end.

  “Yeah? You like that?
” There was a wet, smacking sound. “I know you looooove listening to me chew. I know it gets you hard.” More smacking.

  “What the hell?” I said.

  Dave looked up. “Voice mail from Kamen.”

  “Yeahhhhhhhhh.” A slight scraping sound. “That was a little fork-on-teeth action for yah.”

  All I could do was gape.

  “Mmmm, Dave loves to listen to me chew. It’s what he pays me the big bucks for. Chewy-chewy-chewy . . .” Kamen paused. “Hey, do you think when Miles gets a baby, he’ll design little T-shirts for it? And maybe—”

  Dave hit End hastily and glanced up at me again. “Sorry. We really can’t stop talking about the you-being-a-dad thing.”

  I pulled a chair out and sat. “What the hell is with the chewing?”

  “Inside joke. We pretend sometimes that I’m a billionaire with eccentric fetishes, and he’s the hooker I hire to fulfill them.”

  “I see.” It wasn’t even close to the strangest thing I’d heard from either of them, so I let it go. I folded my hands and leaned forward. “Listen. I know you did not put my name on the list to talk to that college group.”

  He shut the comic and stared pleadingly at me. “Miiiiiiles. It’s the Subs Club. You’re one of the founders.”

  “I am also under observation and attempting to extricate myself from the world of BDSM. So no, I will not be talking to a group of college kids about butt plugs.”

  “It’s gonna be no cameras allowed.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “You really think the adoption agency’s gonna find out? Or care?”

  “You’re the one who was appalled that I was even considering becoming a father, given my proclivities. Don’t you think a vanilla caseworker might share those concerns if she did find out?”

  “But it sucks that you won’t be there. You’re the one who knows the most.”

  He certainly knew how to appeal to my profound arrogance. “The answer is no. Take my name off the list.”

  Dave sighed. “Fine.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m just excited about taking the Subs Club to the next level.”

  “Mmm. You sure the club needs to go public? We’re still in the doghouse with half the community after the review blog.”