by Sean Michael
This was insane. Utterly insane. His heart was pounding, head swimming. Drugs. That was it. The lunatic had drugged the juice.
Lutrell moved him, gently pushing him toward the table and getting him up on it. There were panels for his arms and his legs that swung out from the table and Lutrell began to lash his limbs to them. “You see, not so uncomfortable."
He blinked, tugged at the bonds. He could feel his shirt, pulling underneath him. “Let me up. This isn't what I wanted."
"Oh, no.” Lutrell shook his head and giggled. “No, I think we'll keep you right where you are.” The panels for his arms and legs were spread, leaving him open, exposed.
He growled, pulling harder, muscles tensing and straining, but to no avail as the straps were incredibly strong. “Let me up! I'm serious."
Lutrell's giggles increased. “Sure you are.” The laughing loon pulled a steel table over. Once it came close, Dent could see it was covered in medical instruments, each one wrapped in sterile plastic. Lutrell picked up the scalpel. “We need to get rid of these pesky clothes. I hope you weren't terribly attached to them."
"Don't you dare!” His voice echoed. What had Hercules done?
* * * *
Lutrell chuckled softly, almost under his breath, as he slowly worked his scalpel up along Dent's leg. He wasn't really paying attention to the words of abuse and outrage that poured out of Dent. Oh, he was paying enough attention he would hear the moment the man so much as mouthed his safeword. Lutrell had a pretty good idea that doing so had not even crossed Dent's mind.
He was equally sure that Dent did not believe he wanted this, was no doubt truly outraged and likely would be equally as angry at himself later for not even thinking to use his safeword to escape. The thing was, Dent's subconscious knew he wanted this, and it was Dent's subconscious that was really running the show.
"Careful now,” he murmured as he arrived at the place where Dent's thigh met his hip. “I don't want to cut you accidentally.” He giggled. “Cutting is only to be done on purpose."
"You're insane. Herc left me with a madman.” Dent went perfectly still, muscles so tight they would hurt tomorrow.
"No, no. Not insane. I enjoy my work, yes?” He chuckled again and then grew silent, carefully using the sharp-enough-to-slide-through-skin blade to finish cutting Dent's pants from him. “Oh, that's better.” He tugged the pants right off the man and stood back, giggling and almost bouncing. “Look at you. Such strong muscles. Such fine skin. You will be a pleasure, dear man, I am sure of it."
"Fuck you. Let me up. You just ruined a perfectly good pair of slacks!"
"Yes, and I'm going to ruin the perfectly good shirt, too.” Lutrell chuckled. Poor Dent was so confused, so incensed, but not honestly asking to be let go. The strong ones always fell so hard. They resisted with all that strength, and it was a beautiful struggle. It was even more beautiful when they finally realized, when they gave in to their needs.
"Fucking untie me!” Dent started jerking and tugging. It was quite lovely, really, passionate and furious and so alive.
"I will, I will.” He waited until his words had Dent lying still again and then began to work on the right sleeve of the truly lovely shirt. It had no doubt cost the man more than a lot of citizens’ yearly salary. Then he added, in a very soft voice. “When we're done here."
Dent stared at him, face flushed, a vein throbbing in the man's throat. “I'm going to beat you to death when I get up."
Lutrell tilted his head. “That isn't exactly incentive, my dear, to untie you.” He shook his head, chuffing. “Not very good incentive at all.” He kept cutting.
"Does Herc know what you're doing?” There was a measure of hurt in the question, of shame.
Lutrell kept his sigh to himself, kept himself from soothing and stroking as that would not help Dent in the long run, but he felt for the man. It was not easy being confused like this. “The exact details? No, I imagine not. But he knows who I am. What I do."
"Let me up. There has been a mistake. I don't want this to go any farther.” Ah, the part where Dent tried to be calm and rational.
He couldn't contain his grin. Dent was going to be so beautiful when he finally submitted. And the ride until they got to that point was going to be wild. It made him giggle happily. “There's no mistake, and I'm enjoying it enough for both of us."
"I am not. What. You. Are. Looking. For.” Each word was bitten out, Dent's dark, lovely eyes spitting fire.
"But you are. What I am looking for is your pleasure. Mine. A place to meet in the middle.” He giggled again, one hand hovering over Dent's genitals. “The middle."
"Don't.” Dent was well-built, cock heavy and beginning to fill. The dark curls above his prick shone in the light.
"Your mouth is saying no, but your body is saying yes.” Lutrell cackled at himself and finished cutting the pretty shirt away from Dent. Dark, tight nipples, a flat belly sprinkled with a trail of black hair under the tiny navel. Lovely. What a treasure. He would have to send Hercules something as a thank-you gift. Perhaps Mal, as well.
He let the dull side of the scalpel slide along Dent's skin, flicked one of the little nipples with it. Dent went still, chest flushed deep as the man's breath stopped.
Yes. Yes, the man was paying attention now. He flicked the dull side of the knife against Dent's other nipple, turning it at the very last minute to let the sharp edge barely nick Dent's skin.
Dent's roar was amazing—loud and furious, completely born of fear and fury, not pain.
He nodded happily. There would be more roars like this one. More anger, more fear. They would work through those disguises together, keep digging until they found the real Dent beneath.
He put the scalpel down and let himself touch, his fingers going eagerly to Dent's belly, feeling up the firm muscles. A single drop of blood beaded up on Dent's nipple and he moved his hand up, finger sliding through it, pressing against the hard bit of flesh.
Dent's arms tightened, body twisting, trying to escape his touch.
"Nowhere to go,” Lutrell said, little giggles escaping him as he touched and touched. After a moment or two of indulgence, he pulled away and smiled down at the man bound on his table. “Time to sterilize you. Yes, indeed."
"Let me go!” Oh, that was true panic, Dent's breath coming in short gulps, eyes rolling as he nearly convulsed.
Lutrell returned to his side immediately, fingers digging into the man's thigh to get his attention. “Dent? Soap, water and alcohol swabs.” He wasn't sure what was so scary about that, but he'd find out before proceeding.
Those eyes met his, wild for a moment before they cleared. “That's all?"
"Of course, what did you—oh!” He shook his head, chuckling. “Oh, my dear, I would not to anything to damage this magnificent equipment. Not permanently, anyway."
Dent relaxed, swallowing hard, sweat making the fine skin gleam.
Lutrell tsked and went to the sink in the far corner, filling a bowl with warm water. “Cleaning will be a part of our routine,” he told Dent, using his voice to keep them connected. “Outside and in."
"Our routine? How long do you intend to keep me here?” Interesting, the conflicting emotions in that voice.
"I have cleared my schedule for forty eight hours.” He moved back to Dent's side. “I imagine we can play it by ear after that."
"Two days..."
Two days to clash and retreat, to stretch and push and explore. “That's right.” Lutrell slid a cloth into the warm water and then poured some liquid soap onto it. He lathered it up and began to wash Dent.
Dent shivered, cheeks going red. “I ... this is ... I'm not a child!"
That had him laughing. “No. No, you're not a child. I can clearly see that.” He drew the cloth along Dent's sizeable erection. “Very clearly see it."
Dent's hips jerked, cock slapping his flat belly. “Let me up."
"You are up,” Lutrell told Dent, giggling as he continued to concentrate on Dent's cock
and balls, soaping them up nicely.
The man's heavy sac drew up, wrinkling up and trying to hide. He slid the cloth beyond it, pressed it against Dent's hole, watching closely for the man's reaction. Dent went tight and still, belly rippling. “We'll do a special cleaning here.” He tapped Dent's hole twice.
"Special...” Again that gasp, then a growl, Dent working up to fight.
"Oh, yes. I have tubing. In all sizes. Don't worry,” he giggled, “we'll start small."
"No. No, I won't. No.” Oh, look at that prick jerk. Impressive.
He shook his head. “You don't have to. I'll do it. Not to worry, my dear, you don't have to do anything at all. I will take care of everything.” He let his cloth slide once more along the little wrinkled hole and then continued to wash Dent, cloth sliding over the muscled legs, stroking the insides of Dent's thighs. One thing at a time, and this would always be the first thing.
"Stop it. Let me go. I don't want this.” Mmhmm. Not at all. Use your safeword then, lovely man.
"You really are almost perfectly formed,” he told Dent. “Such a lovely specimen.” Not entirely perfect, of course, but then that would be boring. He rinsed out his cloth and began to wipe away the soap. “Enema and sound today, my dear?” he asked, laughing softly with anticipation. Seeing Dent filled both in front and behind would perhaps be perfect. Lutrell's prick was quite swollen, his balls beginning to ache; he worked at keeping his moan silent.
"No. No. I don't...” Dent shook his head. “I can't. Let me up. What do you need for me to give you to get you to untie me?"
"Just a few hours, my dear.” He smiled up at Dent as he used a soft towel to dry Dent's skin.
He grabbed the bottle of alcohol and soaked another cloth with it, quickly and efficiently wiping Dent down. “There.” He laughed and clapped his hands together. “All clean. All ready. Time for us to begin!"
Dent shivered, shook, nipples hard as little rocks.
"Have you ever had an enema before?” Lutrell asked as he went to double-check the temperature. Oh, good, warm enough. Not that he'd thought Dent was cold, oh no, those shivers had nothing to do with the temperature.
"Let me go.” The fighting started again, Dent's voice loud.
Lutrell wondered if that was a yes or a no. “All in good time, Dent. You aren't a prisoner, after all.” He giggled again, excitement bubbling through him.
He chose the clear, thin plastic tubing. It would take longer to fill Dent with it, but it would feel less invasive as well. They would work the beautiful man up in size, both with this and with the sounds.
"Let me up, you crazed madman!” Dent's eyes were fastened on the tubing, cock full and dark.
He cackled, wondering how many names Dent would come up with before the session was over. He put on his surgical gloves and lubed his fingers up, along with the tubing, making sure Dent could see what he was doing.
Dent shuddered, shaking for him, the scent of need strong.
Lutrell sublimated his moan into more laughter, the sounds escaping him, keeping him from rubbing off against Dent. There would be time enough later for his own pleasure. He slid a finger against Dent's hole, the heat delicious, the way it spasmed a delight. “I'll open you a little first.” Not a lot, it was the liquid that would do the opening, the stretching.
Dent arched, tried to pull away from him, heels thrumming on the table.
"There's nowhere to go, my dear, and relaxing will make this easier on you.” Of course, the fight Dent was having with himself was magnificent, and “easy” was not nearly as rewarding.
"I'm going to make you sorry you did this..."
Mmm. Tight, almost virginal. Maybe truly virginal. He laughed, delighted by this fact more than he could say. “I make it a rule not to have regrets."
He pushed his finger in, forcing it past the tight ring of muscles until it was in to the first knuckle. He wriggled it slowly. Oh, once Dent was clean, he was going to taste this virginal hole.
Dent stilled, eyes closed, body moving around his finger, trying to push him out.
"If you do that with the tubing, you'll make a huge mess.” He giggled, waving the tubing and the enema bag full of warm water and a mild antibiotic.
The motions stopped. “Why are you doing this to me?"
"Because it's what you need.” It was as simple as that. And as complicated.
Dent shook his head, tugging hard, denying what Lutrell knew was truth. Such a struggle. Dent was making it so hard on himself, denying his needs, denying what his body needed. Lutrell blamed a lifetime of conditioning. Who knew what nonsense Dent had been taught was manly?
He slid his finger in and out of Dent's hole, pushing a tiny bit farther each time until it was going in as far as his second knuckle. Dent's body knew what he needed, his hips beginning to shift, to ride the touch. He chuckled lightly. “Yes, that's it. Stop thinking and feel. Just feel."
"I. Please don't.” The words were groaned out. “Let me go."
"No, I won't do that.” He shook his head and sent his finger a little deeper, as far as he could put just the one.
Dent shook his head, cock starting to leak.
Giggling, Lutrell bent and licked the first drop away. The taste of it exploded in his mouth, sharp and bitter, salty, with an extra something he'd never tasted before that had to be Dent himself. Dent growled, hips bucking, impaling himself, grinding on Lutrell's finger. Lutrell watched Dent's body moving—so lovely. The man needed to let go more often.
He removed his finger, watching the little hole spasm, watching Dent's body search for the stimulation. Dent's eyes were squeezed shut, lips in a thin line. Such passion, hidden, denied. His.
He spread Dent's ass cheeks with two fingers and slid the tubing in while Dent was still searching for his finger, let it slide in an inch and a half or two. Dent didn't speak, didn't breathe, just stayed still. He kept his fingers on either side of the tubing by Dent's ass, in case the man would try to eject it.
"A little bit of warmth now. It'll start slow and fill and fill and fill you.” He laughed. “Oh, so full. All these lovely muscles will be put to work keeping it all in."
He opened the bag at the end of the tubing and squeezed gently, sending the liquid up through the tube into Dent. Dent groaned, entire body taut and flushed, fighting him. Oh, he'd have to pull out the bardex nozzle for next time.
"If you keep fighting it, the liquid and everything inside you will come spilling out all over you,” he warned.
Dent flushed darker, hands curled into fists. “No."
Lutrell giggled. “No, you won't stop fighting? Or no, you won't let it spill?” He continued having the liquid slowly fill Dent, firmly holding the hose in place.
"Stop laughing at me."
"I'm not laughing at you, my dear. I am a happy person. Laughing feels good."
"I need to get up.” Tiny tremors were shaking Dent's muscled body.
"Oh, no. Not yet, not yet.” He looked at the bag and shook his head. “You've only taken about a quarter of what you can."
"Let me go!” The rhythm of Dent's denial was fascinating. Logical, then furious, then yielding.
He shook his head and pushed some more liquid into Dent, filling the man inexorably. Dent could not deny this.
Dent started panting, quieting, gathering his energy. Relaxing. Accepting.
"Oh, yes!” He laughed softly, would have clapped his hands with pleasure if they weren't so busy. “Feel it. Filling you. Stretching you slowly. Cleaning you."
"Please don't do this...."
"I am doing it, my dear."
Dent could deny he needed this as much as he wanted, but he would not deny that it was happening. Dent twisted, groaning, stomach muscles clenching as the dull cramps started.
"I can ease those,” he told Dent. “But you have to promise not to try to push the tubing out. It's entirely up to you."
"I ... Oh...” Another twist, another deep cry.
He chuckled. “Yes or no? Soon I wi
ll know exactly what each breath you take means, Dent. I will. For now I have to guess that you would rather have the cramps eased and will not push the tubing from your body. The mess will be your fault if you do!"
He let go of where he held the tubing, and worked his latex glove off, fingers moving to stroke the beautiful belly, rubbing and easing the cramps.
"Oh...” Dent took a breath, relaxing, panting.
He made a happy noise. “See! When you don't fight everything so hard, it is magical."
"I don't ... I'm not.” Dent moaned, lips parted as he breathed.
"You do and you are. Oh, you are so lovely like this."
He checked the bag, almost empty. “Almost done, my dear. Almost done.” He giggled. “So full now, aren't you?"
"Don't laugh at me..."
"But you bring me joy, Dent. You make me laugh!” The poor man was so serious, he couldn't understand. Laughter was an expression of joy.
"I can't ... It's too much. Too much."
"Of course you can!” He kept stroking Dent's belly and closed off the bag from the tubing. “You don't need to hold any more, though. Just what's already inside."
"Why?” Dent whimpered, eyes rolling a little.
"Because I told you to.” He nodded, still stroking Dent's lovely belly, rubbing the firm muscles.
"Why are you doing this?” Cramps hit Dent and a low cry sounded.
He worked Dent's muscles through the cramps, shaking his head. “For you, my dear. It's all for you. Now take a deep breath, and then another. I'm taking the tube out now. You have to keep your sphincter closed."
"Oh, fuck. I. I can't do this. I won't do this."
"You can, and you will."
He slowly withdrew the tubing, fingers of his free hand sliding over the head of Dent's cock, which he couldn't help but notice was still quite hard.
"Don't. Oh, god. Don't."
Which Lutrell took to mean do. He made an adjustment or two to his table, pushing aside a portion of it so that when Dent could hold on no longer the liquid would fall in a receptacle beneath the table and would not soil the man.