[Original] Molt
Sep. 24th, 2011 03:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kittydesadeTitle: Molt
Source: Black Stone Rising
Genre: Urban Fantasy/Erotic
Characters: Sascha Kessler
Word Count: 1,616
Summary: Sascha has cravings when he goes into molt, which lead to adventures in being dominated by professional women at clubs.
A/N: Written for the![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kink_bingo prompt "Subspace/Headspace"
He drifted half in and half out of wakefulness. His skin no longer itched. He barely felt his skin, and when he did it felt stretched tight over fullness, as though something had slipped under and blown him up till he was almost bursting. Except it didn't hurt. Nothing hurt in the acute, painful way. Sascha welcomed the ache.
Most people wouldn't. But he was one of the nicer, sweeter submissives in the Downtown Eleven club, even if he only came around every now and again.
Right now he was in the tender care of Mistress Vixen, a skilled and plump woman who overflowed her tight leather bindings in a very pleasing way. She teased his ass with the riding crop, having spent the better part of the last hour abusing it for the enjoyment of the viewers until he was pink to red. Medium rare, they whispered. The rest of him was tied over the sawhorse, his cock enclosed in one of those sheaths designed to either halt or prolong orgasm, he wasn't sure what the original intention had been. He was sure his balls ached. He hadn't come yet, and she'd been teasing him for almost an hour.
The big finish was coming up. He was just relaxed enough for it.
Sascha heard her voice explaining what she was doing to him through the haze of smoke around his brain. Traditional drugs didn't work on him so well, but there were alternatives to the amyl nitrate poppers that did work exclusively, he'd discovered, on dragon physiology, which meant he didn't have to conflict with Mistress Vixen's safety lessons. She was using him as a demonstration on safe stretching, and he was happy to oblige.
The funny thing was, she was a lesbian. In her personal life, she preferred women, but there was a shortage of female doms people in general could feel safe with and work with, so she worked it both ways. She liked him because when he came down here every so often, most of the time he went for the men and didn't try to persuade her that her dominatrix tendencies were really a result of not knowing a so-called proper man.
These were the places his mind wandered while she lectured. His eyes remained fixed on her, following her as she circled around him.
The touch of skin-warmed jelly between his cheeks was his cue to focus. She was giving the lecture on proper lubrication and preparation, and he barely felt the narrow rod slipping into his ass. Did feel it when it started to thrum, sending a warm swollen sensation all through his groin. He might have made a little whimper. He couldn't really tell. Everything narrowed down to the haze of black and red, midnight blue and deep dark brown in the club, the lights dimmed low. The soft padding of the sawhorse under his chest, the pleasant feeling of his legs spread and tied so his ass could be exposed and his cock was free for the touching. Or would have been, if it hadn't been bound up in that device.
The thrumming lasted for a little while, until it withdrew, and again, he barely noticed. Gobs of jelly again, one or two drips down his crack and the inside of his leg. Better too much than too little, right? This time, when she penetrated him, it was thicker. Big enough for him to feel it, hips rocking back against the motion and body spreading to accommodate the width. It felt good. It felt like he was being pushed from the inside out, no sharp pain or hard burn, just the awareness of being filled and, as she withdrew the dildo, being fucked. The pressure against his inner walls, against his prostate, against every part of him that took in that object and squeezed, relaxed, released.
This time when she withdrew it completely he did feel the lack. Could feel himself pulsing around empty air. That, too, was erotic. Hot. Had him gasping.
More lubricant. This time not just around the edges but deep inside, and more dripping. All the sensations were not so much sharpened as in greater focus, deeper. Every shift of his body or her finger in his ass meant a shift in the way the lubricant moved in and over his body, and it felt good. Relaxing.
He didn't hear the audience, whatever they said to how big the dildo was now. Didn't listen, didn't look around to see it either. If he looked around he might tense up. Mistress placed the head of the artificial cock at his hole and he could feel how thick it was just by how much area it pressed on, and there was some tension. Not just from the size but from the anticipation. He breathed in the smoke again, her scent, the scent of all the sex going on in the room, men and women coupling in various combinations. Breathed in the scent of the leather and latex, oils and velvet and underneath that the chemicals they used to clean the place in the morning. Breathed in, and every time he breathed in she pushed a little deeper.
He didn't feel his skin itching anymore. Didn't feel the irritability or the heat or his skin pulling too tight in some places. Well, except for his cock, but that was because he hadn't come yet and his balls were full of the wanting to. Sascha couldn't tell how deep in she had it but it was deep enough to make its presence known, stretching him, stretching well-used muscles. He fought back the urge to rock back against her hand, Mistress wouldn't like that. He was being a good little pet. Good submissive. And she was pushing it quickly enough anyway, slow, but even and firm. Her finger trailed around the edge of the dildo, first catching bits of lubricant, then smearing it on again. Then it went deeper and now he groaned, because it was in far enough that he could feel what probably wasn't the full length of it but, damn.
The drone of the crowd increased to a frantic, pulsing murmur. A horny murmur, charged with the sight of his no doubt dripping cock, throbbing as it was. And the improbably sized dildo currently being wriggled into his ass. Just thinking about it was enough to make him wish someone would stroke him off, anyone, as long as something touched his cock.
He moaned. Mistress pushed it in a little more. He moaned again, louder, the deeper spread of his hole pushed the sound out of him. Spread him wide open and filled him at the same time so he wasn't yearning for that, but for something to reach even further and touch him just far enough to push him over that edge. He drifted further and further towards the point of explosive, mind-bending pleasure and he could feel where that edge was but it wasn't there, wasn't yet.
He did feel, though, as though it belonged to someone else, the device being removed from his cock. The enclosing device and he half-wondered what that meant until the wet, slippery mouth closed over him and started to suck. And now he was feeling the pressure from both ends, the pressure of the giant dildo sliding in deeper and the lighter, more slippery pressure of a writhing tongue against his flesh. First his cock, and then tonguing his balls and he would have come to a bucking, spurting finish right there except Mistress had stopped moving the dildo. And so he was caught again.
Flesh and black curves moved in front of his vision for a moment. Gentle fingers moved through his hair, and he realized she had asked him something. Did he want to come? He nodded, chin bumping up against the edge of the sawhorse. Yes, Mistress. Please, Mistress. He very much did.
She moved away again and in a moment he felt the dildo push deeper, the tongue stroking his balls firmly from base to base. The mouth rolled wet caresses over his sac, and he felt someone's face rubbing against his shaft, and the thought of coming all over someone's face brought yet another whimper. So close. He felt the whole dildo enter him, the bulge at the end pressing against his stretched and throbbing hole, and it was so close that he barely heard anything, saw anything outside of the repeated flickering images in his mind. His cum spraying over someone's face. His ass stretched with her hand guiding the object in.
Then she turned the knob and suddenly everything thrummed, his body thrummed in time with the vibrations, and he felt his whole ass shake. Thighs, legs, he wasn't quite screaming but there was something going on in his throat, noises he was making, as he felt himself shoot without his or anyone else's permission but Mistress's. That had been the signal. He was free.
Well, not entirely free. But, god, he'd been fucked limp. The heat of someone's breath on his balls moved away, the thrumming and vibrations stopped. The cool air blew over his skin, letting him rest, still with that wrist-thick dildo spreading him open but that was all right, for now. He could drift about inside his own head, in that haze of post-orgasm bliss and anchored by the weight of that monster latex and motorized cock slid all the way in his ass.
Source: Black Stone Rising
Genre: Urban Fantasy/Erotic
Characters: Sascha Kessler
Word Count: 1,616
Summary: Sascha has cravings when he goes into molt, which lead to adventures in being dominated by professional women at clubs.
A/N: Written for the
kink_bingo prompt "Subspace/Headspace"He drifted half in and half out of wakefulness. His skin no longer itched. He barely felt his skin, and when he did it felt stretched tight over fullness, as though something had slipped under and blown him up till he was almost bursting. Except it didn't hurt. Nothing hurt in the acute, painful way. Sascha welcomed the ache.
Most people wouldn't. But he was one of the nicer, sweeter submissives in the Downtown Eleven club, even if he only came around every now and again.
Right now he was in the tender care of Mistress Vixen, a skilled and plump woman who overflowed her tight leather bindings in a very pleasing way. She teased his ass with the riding crop, having spent the better part of the last hour abusing it for the enjoyment of the viewers until he was pink to red. Medium rare, they whispered. The rest of him was tied over the sawhorse, his cock enclosed in one of those sheaths designed to either halt or prolong orgasm, he wasn't sure what the original intention had been. He was sure his balls ached. He hadn't come yet, and she'd been teasing him for almost an hour.
The big finish was coming up. He was just relaxed enough for it.
Sascha heard her voice explaining what she was doing to him through the haze of smoke around his brain. Traditional drugs didn't work on him so well, but there were alternatives to the amyl nitrate poppers that did work exclusively, he'd discovered, on dragon physiology, which meant he didn't have to conflict with Mistress Vixen's safety lessons. She was using him as a demonstration on safe stretching, and he was happy to oblige.
The funny thing was, she was a lesbian. In her personal life, she preferred women, but there was a shortage of female doms people in general could feel safe with and work with, so she worked it both ways. She liked him because when he came down here every so often, most of the time he went for the men and didn't try to persuade her that her dominatrix tendencies were really a result of not knowing a so-called proper man.
These were the places his mind wandered while she lectured. His eyes remained fixed on her, following her as she circled around him.
The touch of skin-warmed jelly between his cheeks was his cue to focus. She was giving the lecture on proper lubrication and preparation, and he barely felt the narrow rod slipping into his ass. Did feel it when it started to thrum, sending a warm swollen sensation all through his groin. He might have made a little whimper. He couldn't really tell. Everything narrowed down to the haze of black and red, midnight blue and deep dark brown in the club, the lights dimmed low. The soft padding of the sawhorse under his chest, the pleasant feeling of his legs spread and tied so his ass could be exposed and his cock was free for the touching. Or would have been, if it hadn't been bound up in that device.
The thrumming lasted for a little while, until it withdrew, and again, he barely noticed. Gobs of jelly again, one or two drips down his crack and the inside of his leg. Better too much than too little, right? This time, when she penetrated him, it was thicker. Big enough for him to feel it, hips rocking back against the motion and body spreading to accommodate the width. It felt good. It felt like he was being pushed from the inside out, no sharp pain or hard burn, just the awareness of being filled and, as she withdrew the dildo, being fucked. The pressure against his inner walls, against his prostate, against every part of him that took in that object and squeezed, relaxed, released.
This time when she withdrew it completely he did feel the lack. Could feel himself pulsing around empty air. That, too, was erotic. Hot. Had him gasping.
More lubricant. This time not just around the edges but deep inside, and more dripping. All the sensations were not so much sharpened as in greater focus, deeper. Every shift of his body or her finger in his ass meant a shift in the way the lubricant moved in and over his body, and it felt good. Relaxing.
He didn't hear the audience, whatever they said to how big the dildo was now. Didn't listen, didn't look around to see it either. If he looked around he might tense up. Mistress placed the head of the artificial cock at his hole and he could feel how thick it was just by how much area it pressed on, and there was some tension. Not just from the size but from the anticipation. He breathed in the smoke again, her scent, the scent of all the sex going on in the room, men and women coupling in various combinations. Breathed in the scent of the leather and latex, oils and velvet and underneath that the chemicals they used to clean the place in the morning. Breathed in, and every time he breathed in she pushed a little deeper.
He didn't feel his skin itching anymore. Didn't feel the irritability or the heat or his skin pulling too tight in some places. Well, except for his cock, but that was because he hadn't come yet and his balls were full of the wanting to. Sascha couldn't tell how deep in she had it but it was deep enough to make its presence known, stretching him, stretching well-used muscles. He fought back the urge to rock back against her hand, Mistress wouldn't like that. He was being a good little pet. Good submissive. And she was pushing it quickly enough anyway, slow, but even and firm. Her finger trailed around the edge of the dildo, first catching bits of lubricant, then smearing it on again. Then it went deeper and now he groaned, because it was in far enough that he could feel what probably wasn't the full length of it but, damn.
The drone of the crowd increased to a frantic, pulsing murmur. A horny murmur, charged with the sight of his no doubt dripping cock, throbbing as it was. And the improbably sized dildo currently being wriggled into his ass. Just thinking about it was enough to make him wish someone would stroke him off, anyone, as long as something touched his cock.
He moaned. Mistress pushed it in a little more. He moaned again, louder, the deeper spread of his hole pushed the sound out of him. Spread him wide open and filled him at the same time so he wasn't yearning for that, but for something to reach even further and touch him just far enough to push him over that edge. He drifted further and further towards the point of explosive, mind-bending pleasure and he could feel where that edge was but it wasn't there, wasn't yet.
He did feel, though, as though it belonged to someone else, the device being removed from his cock. The enclosing device and he half-wondered what that meant until the wet, slippery mouth closed over him and started to suck. And now he was feeling the pressure from both ends, the pressure of the giant dildo sliding in deeper and the lighter, more slippery pressure of a writhing tongue against his flesh. First his cock, and then tonguing his balls and he would have come to a bucking, spurting finish right there except Mistress had stopped moving the dildo. And so he was caught again.
Flesh and black curves moved in front of his vision for a moment. Gentle fingers moved through his hair, and he realized she had asked him something. Did he want to come? He nodded, chin bumping up against the edge of the sawhorse. Yes, Mistress. Please, Mistress. He very much did.
She moved away again and in a moment he felt the dildo push deeper, the tongue stroking his balls firmly from base to base. The mouth rolled wet caresses over his sac, and he felt someone's face rubbing against his shaft, and the thought of coming all over someone's face brought yet another whimper. So close. He felt the whole dildo enter him, the bulge at the end pressing against his stretched and throbbing hole, and it was so close that he barely heard anything, saw anything outside of the repeated flickering images in his mind. His cum spraying over someone's face. His ass stretched with her hand guiding the object in.
Then she turned the knob and suddenly everything thrummed, his body thrummed in time with the vibrations, and he felt his whole ass shake. Thighs, legs, he wasn't quite screaming but there was something going on in his throat, noises he was making, as he felt himself shoot without his or anyone else's permission but Mistress's. That had been the signal. He was free.
Well, not entirely free. But, god, he'd been fucked limp. The heat of someone's breath on his balls moved away, the thrumming and vibrations stopped. The cool air blew over his skin, letting him rest, still with that wrist-thick dildo spreading him open but that was all right, for now. He could drift about inside his own head, in that haze of post-orgasm bliss and anchored by the weight of that monster latex and motorized cock slid all the way in his ass.