Act II
Welcome to the second prompt post!
The same rules/ guidelines apply as for the first prompt post.
Important:
If you fill a prompt from the first prompt post, please post the fill there!
Likewise with all comments for a fic at the first prompt post.
Otherwise it will get very chaotic.
- If you have a fandom related question of any sort you can go ( Read more... )
The same rules/ guidelines apply as for the first prompt post.
Important:
If you fill a prompt from the first prompt post, please post the fill there!
Likewise with all comments for a fic at the first prompt post.
Otherwise it will get very chaotic.
- If you have a fandom related question of any sort you can go ( Read more... )
Rain poured down on the roof of the car. Buildings were hidden behind curtains of water and darkness. What was meant to be a short term place of refuge had become a shelter for the night as the storm outside became too intense to allow any form of traffic. Reports of trees being blown unto the street and cyclists being swept of the road would be in the papers tomorrow.
George stared at the darkness outside the window. What had come over him when he had accepted Mr. Mandelson’s offer of a ride home through the rain, he still didn’t know. Well, he hadn’t expected to be stuck in a broken car on a flooded street, now had he? It would have been a short trip home. Instead, he had spend hours talking to the Secretary of State. It was, well, educational. Mr. Mandelson had a remarkable way of looking at whatever he talked about, from politics to personal life. George found himself ever more at ease.
Why had he told this man of his strange dreams? Of things he feared and wanted? You’d have to be mad to tell a secret to Peter Mandelson and not expect it to be used against you. Maybe that had been exactly why George had done it. Because he wanted the risk. Because he wanted to be exposed for the person he was. Because he wanted to be disgraced and his career destroyed. On some level, he’d wanted all of that, even if most of his mind did not want that at all.
--
George winced as he felt the gloved hands return to the outside of his upper leg. A strap was pulled over his leg and George shivered at the proximity of hands to his groin as the strap was fastened to the chair on the inside of his leg. His other leg was given the same treatment, both straps forcing George to spread his legs wider. He suppressed the panic that he felt rising in his chest again. Control. The key to staying calm, he told himself, was control of your thoughts. It was the only thing he could control, and how vulnerable he was physically was exactly what he shouldn’t be thinking about. He took a sharp breath through his nose. That’s it. Calm and controlled. Don’t let your mind be carried away by… o shit! What was that? For a moment, George thought the chair had come to life under him as he felt a movement run over his spine. Then he realized - how had he not realized this before? - that the chair was in fact composed of two segments, and there was an opening between them in the middle of about a 7 inches. This left his shoulders resting on the chair, but his spine exposed to the hand that was now trailing over it. And not just his spine, George realized as the touch slowly moved down.
He tensed as the hand rested on his ass cheeks. Two gloves fingers parted them. He tried with all his mind to wake up from what could not possibly be anything but a weird, weird dream. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. He tried to move away as he felt a cold finger slide between his ass cheeks, but the straps over his upper legs prevented him from moving even the slightest bit. A cold, slippery finger, still gloved, entered him. Try as he might, George could not distract himself from the feelings as the finger probed around, pressing inside him. George heard himself whimper into his gag.
The finger was removed and George relaxed for a moment, but that moment passed quickly as he felt a new, cold feeling. Something smooth and cold and slightly larger than the finger had been moved inside him.
---
”Would you enjoy it?” Peter asked his passenger. George stared at the rain. He hadn’t looked Peter straight in the eye since this conversation had started.
“That’s the point. I don’t want to enjoy it. That’s the crazy thing. I want something to happen to me that I won’t enjoy at all.”
Peter nodded.
“That isn’t so strange.”
George turned his head, looking surprised.
“It isn’t?”
Peter smiled.
“Not really. Human desire is complex. We don’t just want things we’ll enjoy.”
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just give me the next chapter before I explode!!
.... please *begs*
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