Esctacy in Agony
Title: Ecstasy in Agony
Author:
afiawri
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Neal/Peter
Warnings: CBT
Word Count: 774
For:
kink_bingo
Summary: Fingernails and crushers; CBT
Pushing a nail, even a pinky nail, into a slit takes some wiggling and twisting and scraping. It takes patience on his side, pain tolerance from the cock. It takes one hell of a pain slut to hold still so well, though Neal’s body nearly vibrates with the effort. His hands spasm and his hips tremble, but he lies there for Peter.
Finally, Peter digs that nail far enough into Neal’s slit that he can pinch it together with another finger nail, nearly piercing Neal’s cock head. The skin around his fingers darkens into a deep red and then pales under the strain.
He drags Neal’s cock up right by his hold.
Neal tosses and turns in sharp little jerks, but all he’s doing is hurting himself when he yanks his cock back and forth in Peter’s grip. His balls, loosely held between two clear plastic plates that Peter has yet to tighten, are protected and barely jostle with Neal’s movement, unhurt by it, so at this point he’s just playing it up - stalling.
Peter sinks his short nails deeper into Neal’s cock and waits him out. He wonders if the slickness of the precome sliding out of Neal’s slit makes this better or worse. He rubs the nail inside through the precome and digs in. Neal’s whole body seizes. Oh, definitely worse. Beautifully worse.
Neal gets his body under control, gets his hips still, but his eyes are clenched shut and the tears are only just starting. His breathes are huge, unsteady heaves. They hitch in anticipation of pain every time Peter shifts on the bed. Peter’s free hand slides down Neal’s shaft to the cut-out in the ball crusher that his cock pokes through. He traces where shaft meets plastic with a finger tip.
“Ready,” Neal gasps. It’s strained; he wants to get this going, get Peter to stop taunting and teasing and playing around.
“I know you are.” Peter slaps the captive cock lightly, but it drags his finger nail just the slightest bit across the inside of Neal’s cock. “But we’re not in any hurry.” Before Neal’s shout fades, he pulls his hand straight up. Neal doesn’t get it, so Peter grabs the plates and tugs those up to stretch Neal’s scrotum an inch and make it clear: Neal better move or it’s going to hurt. Neal’s hips take a moment to follow in a series of shudders.
With Neal’s hips a half foot off the bed, he cranks the knob that slides the clear plates around Neal’s balls closer. His balls flatten into disks, perfectly round and an inch thick, pressed right up against the glass. Twist. Even flatter now. Twist.
Neal doesn’t dare move. He watches Peter with focused, wide eyes with dilated pupils. His body vibrates with tension and pain. Waiting. He’s even holding his breath. He looks almost comfortable, like he could hold this position - hips in the air, balls and cock presented for torture - forever.
Peter counts out the second of forever. Neal’s inner thighs spasm. His cock, still caught in Peter’s cruel finger nails, gushes precome. Peter’s eyes rove all over Neal, his obscene precome fountain, everything stretched or bent to force that cock higher in the air towards Peter’s cruel grip. Everything in Neal waits on Peter.
Peter shakily reaches a finger between the plates. Neal’s balls are so flat and so close to spilling over the edge that he can stroke the side of them. Neal drags in a ragged gasp. His balls are beautifully tortured and flattened. Peter wiggles a finger against the skin, flicking it, playing with it. He stabs it with a finger nail and holds that bit of skin against the glass.
Neal wails pitifully. He wobbles but doesn’t fall; Peter releases him in case he crashes down. There’s a split second where the fingernail impressions he left behind darken in color before Neal’s cock twitches and the first spurt of come flies out. Such a pain slut, Peter thinks admiringly.
The come coats Neal’s chest and face and open mouth. Neal coughs but keeps coming. His eyes are squeezed shut and his balls are squeezed flat and it looks like it hurts when the final, sad bit of come trails down his shaft.
His legs slide down the bed and his butt hits sheets.
Peter’s hand circles Neal’s spent and sensitive cock. It’s hardly fair to Neal, calling it a day so soon. He squeezes cruelly, one hand on the ball crusher’s tightening knob. He’s always fair to Neal.
A wavering smile works its way up Neal’s face before he’s screaming in ecstasy and agony again.
Also posted at: http://afiawri.dreamwidth.org/26480.html
Author:
afiawri
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Neal/Peter
Warnings: CBT
Word Count: 774
For:
kink_bingo
Summary: Fingernails and crushers; CBT
Pushing a nail, even a pinky nail, into a slit takes some wiggling and twisting and scraping. It takes patience on his side, pain tolerance from the cock. It takes one hell of a pain slut to hold still so well, though Neal’s body nearly vibrates with the effort. His hands spasm and his hips tremble, but he lies there for Peter.
Finally, Peter digs that nail far enough into Neal’s slit that he can pinch it together with another finger nail, nearly piercing Neal’s cock head. The skin around his fingers darkens into a deep red and then pales under the strain.
He drags Neal’s cock up right by his hold.
Neal tosses and turns in sharp little jerks, but all he’s doing is hurting himself when he yanks his cock back and forth in Peter’s grip. His balls, loosely held between two clear plastic plates that Peter has yet to tighten, are protected and barely jostle with Neal’s movement, unhurt by it, so at this point he’s just playing it up - stalling.
Peter sinks his short nails deeper into Neal’s cock and waits him out. He wonders if the slickness of the precome sliding out of Neal’s slit makes this better or worse. He rubs the nail inside through the precome and digs in. Neal’s whole body seizes. Oh, definitely worse. Beautifully worse.
Neal gets his body under control, gets his hips still, but his eyes are clenched shut and the tears are only just starting. His breathes are huge, unsteady heaves. They hitch in anticipation of pain every time Peter shifts on the bed. Peter’s free hand slides down Neal’s shaft to the cut-out in the ball crusher that his cock pokes through. He traces where shaft meets plastic with a finger tip.
“Ready,” Neal gasps. It’s strained; he wants to get this going, get Peter to stop taunting and teasing and playing around.
“I know you are.” Peter slaps the captive cock lightly, but it drags his finger nail just the slightest bit across the inside of Neal’s cock. “But we’re not in any hurry.” Before Neal’s shout fades, he pulls his hand straight up. Neal doesn’t get it, so Peter grabs the plates and tugs those up to stretch Neal’s scrotum an inch and make it clear: Neal better move or it’s going to hurt. Neal’s hips take a moment to follow in a series of shudders.
With Neal’s hips a half foot off the bed, he cranks the knob that slides the clear plates around Neal’s balls closer. His balls flatten into disks, perfectly round and an inch thick, pressed right up against the glass. Twist. Even flatter now. Twist.
Neal doesn’t dare move. He watches Peter with focused, wide eyes with dilated pupils. His body vibrates with tension and pain. Waiting. He’s even holding his breath. He looks almost comfortable, like he could hold this position - hips in the air, balls and cock presented for torture - forever.
Peter counts out the second of forever. Neal’s inner thighs spasm. His cock, still caught in Peter’s cruel finger nails, gushes precome. Peter’s eyes rove all over Neal, his obscene precome fountain, everything stretched or bent to force that cock higher in the air towards Peter’s cruel grip. Everything in Neal waits on Peter.
Peter shakily reaches a finger between the plates. Neal’s balls are so flat and so close to spilling over the edge that he can stroke the side of them. Neal drags in a ragged gasp. His balls are beautifully tortured and flattened. Peter wiggles a finger against the skin, flicking it, playing with it. He stabs it with a finger nail and holds that bit of skin against the glass.
Neal wails pitifully. He wobbles but doesn’t fall; Peter releases him in case he crashes down. There’s a split second where the fingernail impressions he left behind darken in color before Neal’s cock twitches and the first spurt of come flies out. Such a pain slut, Peter thinks admiringly.
The come coats Neal’s chest and face and open mouth. Neal coughs but keeps coming. His eyes are squeezed shut and his balls are squeezed flat and it looks like it hurts when the final, sad bit of come trails down his shaft.
His legs slide down the bed and his butt hits sheets.
Peter’s hand circles Neal’s spent and sensitive cock. It’s hardly fair to Neal, calling it a day so soon. He squeezes cruelly, one hand on the ball crusher’s tightening knob. He’s always fair to Neal.
A wavering smile works its way up Neal’s face before he’s screaming in ecstasy and agony again.
Also posted at: http://afiawri.dreamwidth.org/26480.html