Chapter 7 #2
He swallowed hard, but his cock twitched, hardening further.
She worked it in carefully, slick with lube, feeling the resistance of his body, the way he tensed and then relaxed under her touch. His breath came in short pants, but his scent stayed sweet — pleasure edging out the discomfort.
She didn’t rush. Gravity was a patient tormentor, and she let it do the work.
The plug’s weight pulled it inexorably down while she held the base steady with two fingers.
She watched the delicate skin of his cockhead stretch around the cold metal, and he let out a broken gasp that cracked in the middle, half pain, half desperate want.
His hips jerked once, instinctive, then stilled.
He was exceptionally well trained, and Emmy found she wanted to push past his training.
She wrapped her free hand around the bottom two inches of his shaft and gave a lazy, twisting stroke.
Up, slow drag of skin over rigid heat, then down, thumb pressing just under the ridge.
Another gasp, sharper this time, his thighs trembling against the spreader bar.
She kept the rhythm unhurried, a counterpoint to the plug’s relentless descent.
Every time she stroked down, the metal slid a fraction deeper; every time she stroked up, his body tried to clench, only to be forced open again.
Minutes bled together. Three. Five. She could see the exact moment the first part of the flare kissed the rim of his slit, stretching the tiny mouth wide, the skin blanching white before blood rushed back in a rosy flush.
Spence’s head fell forward, sweat beading at his temples, but his eyes stayed locked on hers, glassy, pleading.
She rewarded him with a firmer twist of her wrist, squeezing just enough to make his knees buckle against the box. The plug slid another millimeter, gravity winning another tiny piece of territory. His scent bloomed richer, and she tasted the sweet, spicy bite of pain on the back of her tongue.
Emmy attached the TENS lead, and Spence’s breath hitched on every exhale, a soft, wet sound that made her clit throb in sympathy. She leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear.
“Feel that stretch? That’s me inside you. Every millimeter you take is a little more of my willpower inside you.”
“And what’s in your ass, Dearest?” Zander asked.
“My Sir’s cock is in my ass.”
“That’s right,” said Zander, his voice soft. “Two holes penetrated. Perhaps we should put something in your mouth later. Make it three.”
Spence whimpered, hips rocking minutely, chasing her hand even as the plug forced him open.
She gave him what he needed — slow, slick strokes, base to mid-shaft, never touching the invaded head.
The contrast was cruel and exquisite: pleasure below, invasion above, his body caught in the middle, unsure which way to break.
Eventually, gravity finally claimed the last of it.
The flared end seated flush against his tip, the rod buried to the hilt, his slit stretched obscenely around the narrow neck.
Spence’s entire body shook, a fine tremor that ran from shoulders to toes, but his scent stayed sweet — pain pushed to the edge of discomfort, pleasure woven so tight the two were indistinguishable.
Emmy stepped back, admiring the entire image, his body taut, muscles flexed and strained.
The plug glinted at the top of his hole, a cruel ornament claiming the most sensitive part of him.
She traced a fingernail along the stretched rim, feeling the heat, the thrum of his pulse.
“Good boy,” she praised, and his eyes softened, a flush creeping up his neck.
Zander groaned softly behind him, still buried deep. “He squeezes so nicely when you praise him. Like he’s trying to pull me in further.”
Emmy gave a low laugh and cupped Spence’s balls, rolling them gently at first, then squeezing with increasing pressure.
He gasped, his body jerking, arms straining against the cuffs.
She watched his face, his eyes — saw the flicker of fight and then the moment he surrendered to it.
His scent sharpened, pain threading through like a fine spice, but still sweet.
“That’s it,” she said, leaning in close enough he’d feel her breath on his cock.
“Let it build. Feel it. Feel everything.”
She released and spanked lightly — sharp slaps that made his balls bounce, heat blooming under her palm. Spence moaned, his hips twitching, which only made Zander hiss in pleasure. “Fuck, yes,” Zander said, his voice rough. “Do that again. His ass clenches like a vice around me.”
Emmy obliged, spanking hard enough to make a cracking sound. Spence’s eyes watered, but he held her gaze, his submission a palpable force. She could scent the shift — pain intensifying along with the endorphins, blurring the lines of pain and pleasure into outright need.
“Yours,” he panted, voice breaking on a gasp as she squeezed again. “Both of you. Yours. I’m yours.”
The words hit deep. This wasn’t just submission, it was Spence handing her his heart wrapped in trust. The responsibility should’ve terrified her, but it felt like coming home.
But going all soft on him wasn’t the correct reaction. He’d handed control over, and he’d be disappointed if she didn’t respond with power.
Heat surged through her, and she reached for the TENS remote, already on the lowest setting, and turned it on. Spence yelped, his body arching, muscles locking as the current zinged through his cock. His scent spiked sharp with pain, and he danced on the box, toes curling.
Five seconds, and she turned it off. Spence hung from the chain, and Zander groaned long and low. “God, Emerald, that’s exquisite. He milks me so perfectly when you shock him.”
She turned it back on, and Spence’s back arched again.
Emmy’s own arousal throbbed between her legs, wet heat building as she watched Spence fight through it, accept it.
She ramped up the intensity for the next burst, shorter but stronger, and he cried out, eyes squeezing shut for a second before snapping back to hers.
“Stay with me,” she ordered, her voice a velvet command. “Eyes on mine. Let me see you take it.”
He obeyed, panting, sweat beading on his forehead.
Zander reached around and pinched Spence’s nipple, his nails biting into it, adding his own twist of pain.
“Breathe through it, boy,” Zander ordered, his tone soothing even as he twisted again.
“Show us how much you mean it, when you declare you belong to us.”
Two more intense zaps, and Emmy set the control to the side and picked up the small plastic flogger.
She trailed it over Spence’s cock, teasing, before landing the first strike.
He jerked, a sharp inhale, but his scent held steady, pleasure surging back.
She built the rhythm, flogging in short bursts, each snap making his cock bob despite the plug, red blooming on the shaft.
Pain pushed higher now, edging his limits, confusion reigning as his body betrayed him, arousal flooding in waves.
She popped his balls, the root of his cock, the head.
Back to his balls, and then whaled on the shaft for two dozen strikes.
He hung from his wrists, gasping, and she lifted the TENS controller again.
Zander put his mouth near Spence’s ear, pinched both nipples, held them in a painful twist, and met her gaze.
She turned it onto the lowest setting and then flogged harder than before, pushing him further, but always watching, scenting — pain blooming fuller now, but laced with endorphins, sweetening it, confusing the lines until it all blurred into need.
And Zander helped, moving inside him from behind, working his nipples, ordering him to breathe.
Finally, she turned the TENS off, set the flogger aside, and snapped a nipple clamp on him, steel teeth digging in. Then the other, not even a second later. Spence arched again, and a low keen escaped.
Zander’s gaze met hers over Spence’s shoulder, dark with shared hunger. “Time to change positions?” he suggested, voice thick.