Siren - 1d
anonymous
December 12 2010, 05:49:02 UTC
He was flamboyantly dressed, in Arthur’s opinion, wearing a rather bright dark blue coat and equally gaudy red pants. Shoulder-length, slightly wavy, and blonde hair hung around a face set with blue eyes. “Ah, il est beau!” he exclaimed, moving forward. He looked up at down Arthur, as if appraising him. “Ses sourcils sont grands…”
Arthur did not speak Gallian, but he could already tell that this man had most likely insulted him. However, the man nodded, as if deciding something. “Il lui adapte, cependant… J’ai decide. Vous serez la mienne.” The Gallian man smiled towards Arthur, and switched over to a heavily accented version of Arthur’s native language. “What is your name, chaton?” he questioned.
Arthur didn’t comprehend most of what he had already been told. He kept silent - as he had been trained to do, until he was directly asked a question; and gave him the response that had also been instilled in him. “Whatever my master chooses to call me.”
“What a good boy you are,” the man replied, a smile that scared Arthur slipping its way onto his lips. “And a good boy deserves a reward. My name is Francis, mon cher. Remember that. I want to hear you scream it... particularly with that cute little accent of yours. I didn’t believe him when he said he’d found himself a real Britannian, but it appears that he was not lying…”
Arthur was rather sure that the Gallian man’s name would be the last thing that ever escaped his lips, let alone in the context the other man obviously meant. He bit his lip to keep himself from yelling this at him. The Gallian simply laughed, and moved forward. Arthur’s breath caught in his throat as Francis gently let a finger slide down his chest. He squirmed, moving a little further away from him.
Francis seemed to find this amusing. His hand fell quickly, cupping between Arthur’s legs, pressing slightly. Arthur gasped, and writhed, trying to move away. He only succeeded in nearly tipping the chair he was sitting in over, and only barely managed to regain his balance. “Wh-what do you think you’re-“
“Your reward… And a test-run.”
Arthur felt another gasp, almost a sob, escape his throat as the Gallian undid his trousers, talented, hated fingers playing with his limp member until it came to life. Arthur’s eyes were wide in shock and fear, but that seemed to only encourage Francis. “You’ve never done anything like this, cher?” he questioned, chuckling darkly.
“N-no, stop-“
“I can’t take you. No, I would be yelled at. But I can see what I want.” The man clenched his hand around Arthur’s length, slowly stroking it until it was erect. Francis chuckled darkly as Arthur’s breathing picked up, his heart pounding.
Francis continued the slow torture, not allowing Arthur to escape. Each time he tried, he would painfully smack Arthur across the cheek. “Stop being ungrateful,” he’d state, his smile never wavering. “There are plenty who would be more than willing to share my bed.”
Arthur covered his mouth with his hands, his legs shaking, the spasms making the muscles in his thighs hurt. Unconsciously, he curled into himself, whimpering when Francis wrenched his knees back down. Francis moved his knees apart, slowly kneading the skin of his inner thigh as he continued to stroke Arthur’s now weeping erection with a strange calm, his movements quickening.
Francis paused his motions, and allowed his thumb to drift over the head of Arthur’s erection, spreading the white pre-cum from the tip down the length. Arthur jerked involuntarily, his hips bucking against his will. A quiet moan escaped his lips, unbidden, and Francis smirked, as if finally satisfied. His motions quickened again, his hand moving against Arthur fast, too fast, so that it almost felt like it burned.
Arthur felt a few tears slide down his cheeks as he continued to whimper and writhe in the Gallian’s grasp. He didn’t want this. This man was making him do things he would never have done otherwise, he was taking advantage of him, raping him-
Arthur did not speak Gallian, but he could already tell that this man had most likely insulted him. However, the man nodded, as if deciding something. “Il lui adapte, cependant… J’ai decide. Vous serez la mienne.” The Gallian man smiled towards Arthur, and switched over to a heavily accented version of Arthur’s native language. “What is your name, chaton?” he questioned.
Arthur didn’t comprehend most of what he had already been told. He kept silent - as he had been trained to do, until he was directly asked a question; and gave him the response that had also been instilled in him. “Whatever my master chooses to call me.”
“What a good boy you are,” the man replied, a smile that scared Arthur slipping its way onto his lips. “And a good boy deserves a reward. My name is Francis, mon cher. Remember that. I want to hear you scream it... particularly with that cute little accent of yours. I didn’t believe him when he said he’d found himself a real Britannian, but it appears that he was not lying…”
Arthur was rather sure that the Gallian man’s name would be the last thing that ever escaped his lips, let alone in the context the other man obviously meant. He bit his lip to keep himself from yelling this at him. The Gallian simply laughed, and moved forward. Arthur’s breath caught in his throat as Francis gently let a finger slide down his chest. He squirmed, moving a little further away from him.
Francis seemed to find this amusing. His hand fell quickly, cupping between Arthur’s legs, pressing slightly. Arthur gasped, and writhed, trying to move away. He only succeeded in nearly tipping the chair he was sitting in over, and only barely managed to regain his balance. “Wh-what do you think you’re-“
“Your reward… And a test-run.”
Arthur felt another gasp, almost a sob, escape his throat as the Gallian undid his trousers, talented, hated fingers playing with his limp member until it came to life. Arthur’s eyes were wide in shock and fear, but that seemed to only encourage Francis. “You’ve never done anything like this, cher?” he questioned, chuckling darkly.
“N-no, stop-“
“I can’t take you. No, I would be yelled at. But I can see what I want.” The man clenched his hand around Arthur’s length, slowly stroking it until it was erect. Francis chuckled darkly as Arthur’s breathing picked up, his heart pounding.
Francis continued the slow torture, not allowing Arthur to escape. Each time he tried, he would painfully smack Arthur across the cheek. “Stop being ungrateful,” he’d state, his smile never wavering. “There are plenty who would be more than willing to share my bed.”
Arthur covered his mouth with his hands, his legs shaking, the spasms making the muscles in his thighs hurt. Unconsciously, he curled into himself, whimpering when Francis wrenched his knees back down. Francis moved his knees apart, slowly kneading the skin of his inner thigh as he continued to stroke Arthur’s now weeping erection with a strange calm, his movements quickening.
Francis paused his motions, and allowed his thumb to drift over the head of Arthur’s erection, spreading the white pre-cum from the tip down the length. Arthur jerked involuntarily, his hips bucking against his will. A quiet moan escaped his lips, unbidden, and Francis smirked, as if finally satisfied. His motions quickened again, his hand moving against Arthur fast, too fast, so that it almost felt like it burned.
Arthur felt a few tears slide down his cheeks as he continued to whimper and writhe in the Gallian’s grasp. He didn’t want this. This man was making him do things he would never have done otherwise, he was taking advantage of him, raping him-
He came.
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