by Sean Michael
Then with another little giggle, he took the head of that lovely cock into his mouth. Sharp and male, salty and bitter and perfect—Dent could become an addiction. He sucked and licked around the head, tongue teasing Dent's slit, making the strong body shudder. Oh, Dent would take to the sounds like a pro.
He pulled off the man's lovely cock and smiled up at him. “Hold on as long as you can. You may release your bowels when you come."
"No. No. Please. No.” Dent's struggles grew frantic, panicked.
"Don't worry, you won't soil yourself or the table.” He stroked Dent's pretty belly again and then took Dent's cock into his mouth, sucking strongly.
Curses and sobs filled the air. Dent started shaking, hips pushing toward the pleasure of his lips. Yes. Yes. He didn't try to hold Dent back, didn't do anything to control those thrusts. He let Dent take what was needed. It was a beautiful thing, to have Dent let go and give in to his body.
Lutrell helped as much as he could, tongue swirling around the firm, hot flesh in his mouth, swallowing every time Dent's cock hit the back of his throat. Dent whimpered, crying out, the sounds raw and harsh. Joyful. He reached for the man's balls, rolling them in his hand. Come for me, my dear, he thought. Come for me. Let me have your pleasure.
Heat filled his lips, the sound of water being released coming right behind. Yes. Mine. He drank Dent down, the flavor of the man's pleasure threatening to spark his own release. He kept sucking, though, until there were no more drips. Then, he stood and pulled his cock from his scrub bottoms, jacking himself off over Dent's body.
Dent groaned, eyes closed, cheeks almost purple, they were so flushed.
"Oh! Oh, so good.” He stroked himself harder, finger sliding across the sensitive head of his prick. The pleasure pushed up from his balls and shot from him in an arc onto Dent's belly and cock.
Dent shuddered, drawn into himself, quiet, shell-shocked. Bending, Lutrell licked his come from the man, tasting himself and Dent together, humming and chuckling at the way their tastes complimented each other.
Then, he closed the table back up and slid the panels with Dent's arms and legs back together, making sure his hands touched Dent's skin as much as possible. He could see Dent's heart pounding, beating under the warm skin, in the jugular. Humming a little under his breath, Lutrell undid the legs bindings first, and then the arms.
Dent sat up as soon as possible, swaying a bit as his blood pressure swung.
Lutrell tsked softly and put an arm around Dent. “Come with me to the living room. You'll find my couch is most comfortable and I'm sure you could use some more juice. We can talk."
Dent's lips parted, but nothing was said. Nothing came out.
Chuckling, Lutrell stopped long enough tuck himself back into his scrubs, then led Dent back to the living room. It was nice and warm, so he had no guilt in not offering clothing to Dent. He wondered how long it would be before the peace the man had found would leave him and the rebellion would start again.
Chapter Two
Dent hadn't made it to the living area. As soon as he'd seen the restroom, he'd bolted, slamming the door shut and forcing the lock. He needed to think. Desperately.
The room was clean, simple, the same blue as the ... the playroom adorning the walls. A small fountain with stones and plants tinkled gently in one corner. It was warm, warmer even than the rest of the place had been.
There was a knock on the door, laughter coming from the other side. “Dent. Come now, man. You can't run away from yourself."
Laughing at him. Again. Well, Dent probably deserved it, screaming and acting a fool. He started the water, washing his face, his hands, his arms avoiding the mirror as he scrubbed.
"I can override the lock, you know."
"Leave me alone.” He didn't say the words loud enough for anyone to hear.
"I'd prefer it if you opened the door to me yourself, but I will be coming in.” At least the guy wasn't laughing anymore.
He dried his face off, met his own eyes in the mirror. Control. Focus. All he had to do was get out of here in one piece.
Then, he opened the door.
Lutrell beamed at him, clapping. “Excellent! I'm so glad you chose to come out on your own. Please, join me on the couch. You must be hungry, thirsty. I want to know how you're feeling."
"I'm going home.” He didn't want to talk. He wouldn't eat. He wanted ... he wanted out.
"Oh, no.” Lutrell giggled. “Forty eight hours, Mal said. The boss-man will be unhappy if I let you leave so early."
"I don't have a boss.” He was the boss. He needed to get out of here.
Lutrell's head tilted to the side. “No? Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure.” Wasn't he?
He was given another giggle and handed a glass of juice. “Please. Sit, drink. Don't make me ask you again."
His temper flared, dark and sharp. “Am I supposed to be frightened?"
"Not of me, no.” Those blue eyes looked at him, looked into him. “No, not of me."
He rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortable, unnerved. Unsure for the first time in years. He should never have come here.
"So you're not frightened. Tell me, what are you feeling?” Lutrell picked up a glass of juice, drinking a good half of it in one long swallow, his Adam's apple working like it had when...
Dent bolted. He didn't even think about the fact that he was naked or unsure exactly where he was. He just ran. Lutrell didn't follow him, but then when he got to the door he found out why. It was locked.
"Only my palmprint will open it,” Lutrell called from the couch.
"No.” Okay. There had to be somewhere he could go. Hide. Be.
"Yes. Is it so terrible, having to talk to me? Or is it what you are feeling that has you fleeing?” Those blue eyes were boring a hole into his ass.
"I won't do this.” He couldn't.
"All right, we can go back to the table, then."
"I need you to leave me alone.” He needed time. Space. Help.
"I will. In...” Lutrell looked at the little clock hanging by the door. “Forty-five hours, give or take."
"No.” Only three hours. Only three hours.
Lutrell giggled, the sound bitten off. “You keep saying that."
"I mean it.” He did.
Lutrell nodded. “Your mind does. But your body knows. It knows."
"I need to get out of here.” He met Lutrell's eyes, desperate.
"No, my dear. You need to stop denying who you are.” Lutrell's eyes looked into him again, through him, it felt like.
"Stop it. You don't know me.” Hell, he wasn't sure he knew himself right now.
"I think maybe that's the problem, my dear. I do know you. Better than you know yourself.” Those eyes were relentless, watching him.
"You've just met me."
"Yes,” giggled Lutrell. “Just imagine how much more I'll know after two days."
Maybe Dent should just kill him. Or knock him out and use the man's hand on the lock.
"Are you sure you don't want any juice? You need to replenish your fluids."
"I don't.” His stomach growled audibly, angry.
Lutrell chuckled and picked up a piece of citrus fruit. The man bit into half and ate it, then passed it to him. “There. Now you know it isn't drugged."
Dent took it, ate, the tart sweetness making him hungry for more. Lutrell picked up another piece, ate half and passed him the other half. A smile quirked the thin lips. “You'll make me fat if this is the only way you'll eat."
That actually amused him and he swallowed a chuckle.
Lutrell giggled. “You need to laugh more. It would do you a world of good."
"You laugh enough for a thousand men."
"Laughter is the best medicine, my dear.” Lutrell chuckled. “A cliché, a silliness, I know. But it's true. I'm a doctor, I know these things."
"Then you must be well-medicated. I need to go to my quarters. You've ruined my clothing."
"You d
on't need clothes if you stay here. I keep it quite warm. And I'm not finished with you yet. I still have time."
He really was going to explode and hurt someone. Truly. He turned on his heel and headed back to the room where his pants were. He'd comm Herc and explain the simple fact that he wanted out of here.
He was almost there when he stopped, pacing from one door to another like an agitated geor lion.
Lutrell slowly came into the hall. “Go lie on my table, Dent. I know how to help you."
"Help me? I don't...” He did need help. He just didn't want it from Lutrell.
Those long fingers wrapped around his arm and Lutrell led him back into the room with the table where Lutrell did his scenes. “Come along, my dear."
He was beginning to think he was dreaming. Honestly.
Lutrell led him to the table and helped him lie down again. “Good, good.” A soft laugh sounded. “Oh, this will be good. So good."
"Why do you keep laughing at me?” Was he that laughable? That ridiculous?
"I keep telling you I'm not laughing at you. You need to believe me. I laugh because I'm happy.” Lutrell tsked and stroked his face, slowly placing his arms and legs on the boards and tying them down.
He shook his head. “Don't. I don't want to be bound.” He needed to go home.
"You need it, Dent. It's not the same if you're not bound.” Lutrell smiled at him, fingers sliding on his skin.
"No. Please, listen to me.” He couldn't bear any more today. His skin didn't fit.
"Listen to yourself, Dent. Listen to what your body wants. What it needs.” Lutrell turned, eyes lighting up as he looked at the instrument table. “Oh, yes, the sounds!"
"What sounds?” He didn't hear anything.
Lutrell giggled. “Not sounds that you hear—sounds that go into your cock. Such fun!"
He shook his head, convinced he must have heard Lutrell wrong.
"Oh yes. I promise we'll start small, just like with the enema tube.” Lutrell picked up a long, thin silver ... wand?
He frowned, “Why? Where? I don't understand."
"In your prick!” Lutrell giggled, eyes twinkling.
"No. No. I can't.” It would tear him up, ruin him. He couldn't do this anymore.
"Of course you can. All you have to do, after all, is lie back and enjoy it.” Lutrell laughed some more. “I'm doing the hard part. And I'm trained as a doctor, I won't hurt you.” Lutrell put on latex gloves, the sound of them snapping at his wrists loud in the quiet room.
"You're going to tear me. I don't want this.” He bit into his bottom lip, the sharp pain the only thing keeping him from babbling.
"I will not! I know what I'm doing, Dent. You need to start trusting that I will not hurt you. Push you, make you do things you're sure you don't want to do, yes, but never hurt you.” Lutrell tilted his head. “Well. Unless it's intentional, but I will not damage you, even when I offer you pain."
The words eased him, even though they shouldn't. “Why should I trust you?"
"Have I hurt you yet?” Lutrell shook his head. “Because you trust Hercules and he sent you here?"
"I don't understand why he did."
"Because he wants to see you happy, Dent. I imagine he would like to hear your laughter."
The words scared him, startled him, worried him. “Let me go. Let me go."
"Tshaw. So skittish. I think we should just begin. Do you remember how we will always begin?"
"Yes, but. You just. We just did, a few hours..."
"We do it every time, my dear. Every single time.” Lutrell smiled and nodded, beaming at him.
"Why?"
"To keep you clean, safe. To have something we can share."
He closed his eyes. Safe. Gods.
Lutrell hummed. Over that, Dent could hear the man getting the bowl, filling it with water. Dent tried to lose himself, thinking about business, money, numbers. Anything. Then the soft touches came, the warm, soapy cloth moving over his skin as Lutrell hummed and laughed. It was intimate. Relaxing. Peaceful.
He was cleaned, from top to bottom, rinsed and then the strange sensation of the alcohol came, making his skin cool and drying off immediately.
"There we are, all clean.” One of Lutrell's hands wrapped around his prick, stroking him.
"It's cold.” He was freezing.
"You're cold? Let me turn up the heat.” Lutrell walked away, touched something on the wall and came back. “I'll soon have you warmed up,” Lutrell giggled. “I will."
"Thank you.” He tried not to wince at the laugh.
"You see? All you have to do is ask."
His prick was taken again, encouraged to hardness. “I did. I asked you to let me go."
"Oh, but you didn't mean that."
Another sudden urge to laugh surprised him and he swallowed it back. Lutrell's laughter rang out for him.
"All right, now we will introduce you to the sound. It will be most wonderful."
"Will it hurt?” He needed to know.
Lutrell tilted his head. “It won't be comfortable, at least to start. And you will need to come and won't be able to until it is removed. But it will touch you the way nothing ever has, and when you come ... oh, it might make even you laugh, Dent.” Lutrell stroked his belly, touch warm but slightly off through the latex of Lutrell's glove.
"It doesn't sound funny.” It sounded unnerving.
"A good orgasm is a thing of joy. And it does sound like that. The sound sounds, oh, that's good.” Lutrell was off again, laughing away like a loon. “Oh, my dear, you do need to loosen up. You do."
"You are truly insane, Lutrell. You know that, don't you?"
"No, no. I assure you that I am not. Hercules would not have hired me if I was.” Lutrell chuckled. “And you have distracted me enough. Time to begin, to bring your need to the surface.” Lutrell fiddled with the instrument table and set a long thin silver rod and a tube of lube at the edge.
There was no way that thing was going in his cock. “It won't fit. It's too big."
"It's just a little one, my dear.” Lutrell poked through stuff and picked up another one that was at least the size of one of his fingers. “Even this one will fit. But we'll work up to that."
His eyes felt like they were bugging out of his head and he couldn't have stopped the shudder.
Lutrell giggled. “One day you will beg me to use this one.” The thick sound was put away, Lutrell picking up the lube and opening it.
"I won't.” His balls were trying to draw up into his body.
Lutrell chuckled. “Oh, yes, you will."
A soft kiss was placed at the base of his cock and then Lutrell began to stroke him, thumb working the head of his cock as his body betrayed him. He moaned, fighting, trying not to get excited, hard. Trying not to want. It was no use, though. Lutrell's touch seemed inexorable, making his cock firm up.
"Such a beauty, my dear."
He groaned, his muscles tensing, his body fighting the ties, knowing they wouldn't budge.
"Oh, yes. Definitely a beauty.” Lutrell chuckled and squirted out a generous dollop of lube, sliding it along his slit, slicking up the head of his cock.
He shook his head over and over, eyes shut, refusing to watch and wanting desperately to see all at once.
Lutrell hummed, played with the head of his cock, not doing anything unusual yet aside from stimulating his slit more than he was used to. It relaxed him, the sensations pleasurable, heated, but easy. He almost didn't notice when Lutrell began to push the lube into his slit, into him.
Almost.
He pulled away, hips sliding on the table, head shaking. He didn't want to lose this quiet.
Lutrell giggled. “Come, now. This will be good. I promise. I haven't steered you wrong yet.” More lube pushed into his slit, a cold shock that quickly warmed up.
"I don't want this. I'm...” What? Tired? He was. Tired and worn and worried and completely not himself.
"You do, Dent. I am sure you do.” Lutrell kep
t pushing more and more lube inside him. “The lube makes the sound slide beautifully."
"Why do you want to do this?"
"Because it's what you need, my dear.” The fingers of one hand stroked his belly, the other one gripped his cock around the head, holding on tightly.
"No. Why do you want to do this?” Why would anyone?
"Because it's exciting! It brings pleasure to my partner. It makes you shine. I'm putting it in now—you want to watch."
"No.” His eyes opened, every muscle taut and tense.
Lutrell giggled, the sound soft, almost distant. Lutrell's eyes were on his cock, watching as the end of the sound was placed at the opening in his cock. “So lovely.” Lutrell's voice was almost reverent.
"Please.” His hips tried to roll away, tried to escape that hand.
"Yes, yes. I'm doing it, don't worry, I won't leave you wanting.” Lutrell laughed as a good inch of the sound was pushed inside him.
A panicked sound left him, shocked and unbelieving.
"It's going perfectly, my dear. Just a little more and then we'll let gravity finish the job.” Lutrell pushed in another inch or so, the sensation ... not a burn, not a scrape, hard to describe. Dent had nothing to compare it to. He gasped, head shaking, lips parted as he fought to breathe.
"Now watch this,” Lutrell told him. “It's magic! Absolute magic.” Lutrell held his cock pointing up toward the ceiling, hand squeezed around it, forcing his slit into an ‘o’ around the sound, and then Lutrell let the sound go. It slipped right into his cock, all the way in, only the round ball at the top keeping it from continuing its decent.
Everything in him went tight, metal touching where nothing should. Inside. Invading him.
Lutrell laughed, the sound happy, echoing around the room. “Oh, how wonderful! How amazing. You are lovely, Dent. Oh, yes."
Lutrell let his cock go, dropping it to fall back against his belly. The latex gloves were taken off and Lutrell began to touch him, hands warm, almost obscenely gentle on his skin. He stayed as still as he could, trying not to feel the metal in his prick, trying to forget. Lutrell hummed and purred, hands sliding over his chest, fingers flicking across his nipples, pinching them. It was as if there was a live wire between them and the sound, sensation shooting right through his cock each time they were touched.
