Chapter 37 Luca #2
Eventually, his cries lessen, and I shove the dildo in and leave it there.
It’s still partially sticking out, but I shrug my shoulders.
It’s not bad. His body trembles as he finally falls silent.
I walk over to the sink in the room and carefully peel off the gloves, tossing them in the trash.
I methodically wash my hands, making sure none of that lube gets on me.
Granted, I would have felt it, but it's better to be safe than sorry.
For a moment, I grip the sides of the sink, leaning over as I focus on finding my center.
While this shit may come easy to Il Padrone, it doesn’t to me.
At least, reducing my former best friend to nothing doesn't. Yet, he needs to learn, and this is the best way I can think of to force him to see the harm he’s done.
Pushing myself away from the sink, I stop and grab a bottle of water from the small fridge he keeps in here.
I walk over to him, stopping in front of him.
My sweat-drenched shirt sticks to me and I crack the bottle of water, taking several gulps of the cool liquid.
He lifts his gaze to me at the sound, watching my every movement.
Tilting the bottle toward him, I ask, “Thirsty?”
He doesn’t say a word, he merely nods his head tiredly.
I harden my heart against the twinge of pain from seeing the shattered look in his eyes.
Crouching down, I meet his gaze and reach out to cup his cheek.
He recoils the best he can, but stops when I frown at him.
Humming, I nod my approval. He’s learning he’s no longer in control.
I stand up, forcing him to drag his eyes upward alongside me as he keeps them locked on the bottle of water.
“Tell you what. If you make me come, I’ll give you something to drink.”
He whimpers in desperation. When it seems he's not going to say anything, I open the bottle and take a sip, torturing him with the sight of the cool liquid splashing in my mouth. His voice is scratchy, likely from all the screams and sobs, but finally, he breaks. “Please…I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Good Boy.” I ruffle his hair as I place the bottle of water on the ground, before heading to grab an open mouth gag.
I don’t want to risk him getting his teeth on my dick.
I bring it back and jiggle it in front of him.
He slowly opens his mouth, but not nearly far enough.
“This isn’t going to fit if your mouth isn’t fully open—I want to see it stretched. ”
Tears roll down his face, but he finally listens.
Even with his mouth open wide, it’s a tight fit, and I struggle to place the gag in there.
He makes choking noises that’ll sound better when they're being caused by my cock cutting off his air, but I let it go. I quickly fasten the gag behind his head, even though there’s not shit he can do about getting rid of it—not with that stretch.
Unbuttoning my pants, I push them down, my underwear following.
Reaching for my cock, I’m surprised to find that I’m already partially hard.
For some reason, I thought my friend’s tears had killed my ardor.
Thankful to be wrong, I tug at myself enough to get fully erect before stepping forward.
I take a moment to run my fingers through his hair, forcing the connection between us.
Without any warning, I thrust forward, dragging my dick along his tongue and aiming for his throat.
It’s too passive of a blowjob to be called good, but protecting my cock is far more important.
At least, when I make it to the back of his throat, he starts to struggle.
His face reddens as I cut off his air, but I don’t let myself enjoy the spasming of his throat around my dick for long.
I pull out slowly, allowing him to draw gulps of air. I amuse myself for a while, not letting him get used to the way I’m fucking his mouth. Varying the depth of my thrust, and occasionally burying myself in fully, all while keeping him on the edge.
I pull out again and stare down at him, smiling at how absolutely wrecked he looks. The tears streaming from his eyes, the drool, everything that rips my formerly well put together friend apart. “Alright. You’re going to want to hold on the best you can. It’s time to get serious.”
I grip his hair hard, and this time, I fuck him like I mean it. It’s brutal and my cock throbs with need, even as I grit my teeth, hoping to hold off my pleasure. The choking, begging sounds coming from him won’t let me, though. It’s like a shot to my balls each time, pushing me closer to the edge.
I piston my hips harder, rougher, not giving a fuck about his comfort.
I'm only chasing my pleasure—my need. Eventually, I can’t hold back and I bury myself to the hilt, my cum flooding his throat.
I listen to him choking, and pat the top of his head as he drains my balls.
I sigh in relief as I ease myself back, looking down at him.
His icy blue eyes are dull and lifeless, and I grit my teeth against the wave of sympathy. Instead, I ask, “Still thirsty?”
He nods the best he can and my hand twitches, as if I’m going for the water bottle.
Instead, I grab my cock and move forward again, using my other hand to tilt his head up.
It takes a moment before I can get my bladder to listen, but finally, I start to piss in his mouth, splashes of the hot liquid hitting his tongue.
He struggles immediately, but I don’t let him get away, as I groan at being able to let go.
It’s not either of our kinks, but fuck if it doesn’t feel good, not only giving him my cum but my piss as well.
To use him completely, to teach him what being worthless is like, and to remind him that he’s pulled this shit before.
I shake the last few drops from my dick before I pull out and wipe myself off on his cheek.
I was expecting to see hatred, but there’s a blankness on his face.
Shrugging, I grab the water bottle and finish the last of it in front of him.
That finally gets me a response as his eyes burn as I toss the empty bottle aside.
“Hate me yet? Feeling that passion of unjustness? Yeah, I’m sure you are.
The red hot pain of it all. It’s the same way all your Boys feel about you letting Ignacio get gutted, and not following the rules you put in place.
The same feeling your supposed-love had when you turned on him and treated him like trash. ”
He can’t say anything with the gag in, but I’m sure he has plenty he wishes he could say. Too bad I don’t give a fuck. I pat the top of his head and offer him a bright smile.
“Don’t go anywhere. I need to step out for a moment. Try not to worry though. I promise, I’ll be back. We have so much fun left to have…”
I toss the empty water bottle to the side, and then pull up my underwear and pants. Stalking out of the room, I barely glance at Cristian, who thankfully seems out of it still. Unless he’s simply a good actor, which could very well be the case.
Closing the door to the playroom, I take out my phone. My first step is sending the text I promised. The second is to scroll through my contacts and call the person I desperately need to hear from.
When he answers, I slump against the wall, wishing he was here to hold me. “Is it done?”
“Not yet, Dominic. Almost, though.”
“And then you’ll be flying home?” he pushes, and I chuckle weakly.
I dash at the tears that somehow are rolling down my face. Fuck. I clear my throat, forcing out, “Yeah. And I’m looking forward to it.”
“That’s our Boy.” The pride in his voice calms me down and I nod firmly, even though he can’t see it. “We’ll be here waiting.”
“Thank you,” I whisper into the phone, even though, with the soundproofing, there’s no way Il Padrone can hear anything.
“Anything, Love. Anything…”
I don’t waste time, not when I’m in a rush to get home to the men who have fixed so much inside me.
I hang up the phone and pocket it. Scrubbing my face, I inhale deeply.
There’s still more shit to get done. And it’s time for him to face a question.
One that could set him—set us—free, or condemn him.
Maybe I’ll be the one to send him to hell… or maybe he’ll save us all.
Snorting, I know which side I think he’ll end up on. I pat the knife in my pocket and whirl around, aiming for the door I had just stepped out of—it's time to finish this shit. For good.