Fill: A Thorough Examination 9b/?
anonymous
October 1 2010, 01:41:39 UTC
John eased the metal plug back an inch, muscle tightening up around it, and then pushed it forward again, hanging at the widest point, turning it slowly, backing off again, pushing until Sherlock sucked in a shuddery breath and strained against the strap over his hips. Only then did John push it past the flare to where it narrowed, push it further and hold it deep so that every tiny squirming movement Sherlock made rubbed it against the same spot the sound was getting from the other side.
John was watching him. Sherlock couldn't see, but he could feel it, and he still couldn't keep his expression blank. He panted, and his breath caught in his chest with every twist and shove John gave the thing. He pulled against his wrist restraints until he heard something creak and wondered if it might be his bones.
John gave a last, almost vicious shove, and then stepped back. Sherlock tracked him by the noise of his footsteps and the clank and clunk of things being moved and sorted through, but couldn't guess his purpose.
Slight movement as John touched the thing inside him. More slight movement as he came around and touched the sound. Sherlock could feel something building in the air.
"This will be a bit odd," John said. "It might feel like pain at first. Difficult to describe."
"What? What are you going to do?"
"I'm sure you'll work it out."
There was a long pause before anything happened, plenty of time for Sherlock's mind to run away with him, fractals of more and more improbable situations unfurling, fear creeping up from his stomach to lodge in his throat.
It was a low pulse when it started. For a moment he thought it was from the plug in his ass, some vibration, but it wasn't that. It was the jump and twitch of his own internal muscles, barely palpable, but undoubtedly not his imagination.
Metal plug. Metal sound. He could feel the tingle and buzz of it all along his cock and much deeper. A closed circuit that passed right over that same damn spot inside him, touched by the plug and the sound, and now...this.
"Electricity," he said. "John, this is--"
"Perfectly safe. Promise. It can hurt, but it doesn't have to. I know what I'm doing. And I'm going to turn it up now."
One click. Two clicks. It was so fast, as quick as his racing heart, but each pulse still separate. Three clicks had it up to a steady thrum, which Sherlock felt should've been easier to bear, but wasn't. And then, with the fourth, something changed. It passed some threshold of speed or intensity, stopped feeling like physical vibration and became something else he'd never felt before.
Five was white hot and strange, and ran straight up and down his spine and he was making noises that were not words at all, or even trying to be words. Six was like fire, and he tried to tell John it hurt, but he still had no words, couldn't even move beyond restless twitches, but John knew anyhow.
"Right there then," he said, as he turned it back down.
The click was the loudest sound in the room, in the world, and the knowledge that John meant to keep him here, at this level of--insanity--filled his consciousness. It was a high-pitched whine of pleasure, like a heated blade stuck right through him. His hands were curled up tight, eyes screwed shut, jaw clenched, every muscle in his body taut. It was too much, much too much to bear, and it didn't stop.
Wouldn't stop. He didn't even think he was properly hard, and if he was, he couldn't come with the damn sound in, and even supposing he did--this had nothing to do with ordinary physical pleasure. Climax wouldn't bring relief. There was absolutely no reason this couldn't continue indefinitely.
And it seemed as if it might. It stayed steady, but Sherlock's reactions to it didn't. He felt himself fray at the edges, all sense of time gone, colored splotches behind his eyes, ringing in his ears, the tingle of randomly fired nerve endings. It would not go on indefinitely after all. Sooner or later, he would very probably pass out.
John was watching him. Sherlock couldn't see, but he could feel it, and he still couldn't keep his expression blank. He panted, and his breath caught in his chest with every twist and shove John gave the thing. He pulled against his wrist restraints until he heard something creak and wondered if it might be his bones.
John gave a last, almost vicious shove, and then stepped back. Sherlock tracked him by the noise of his footsteps and the clank and clunk of things being moved and sorted through, but couldn't guess his purpose.
Slight movement as John touched the thing inside him. More slight movement as he came around and touched the sound. Sherlock could feel something building in the air.
"This will be a bit odd," John said. "It might feel like pain at first. Difficult to describe."
"What? What are you going to do?"
"I'm sure you'll work it out."
There was a long pause before anything happened, plenty of time for Sherlock's mind to run away with him, fractals of more and more improbable situations unfurling, fear creeping up from his stomach to lodge in his throat.
It was a low pulse when it started. For a moment he thought it was from the plug in his ass, some vibration, but it wasn't that. It was the jump and twitch of his own internal muscles, barely palpable, but undoubtedly not his imagination.
Metal plug. Metal sound. He could feel the tingle and buzz of it all along his cock and much deeper. A closed circuit that passed right over that same damn spot inside him, touched by the plug and the sound, and now...this.
"Electricity," he said. "John, this is--"
"Perfectly safe. Promise. It can hurt, but it doesn't have to. I know what I'm doing. And I'm going to turn it up now."
One click. Two clicks. It was so fast, as quick as his racing heart, but each pulse still separate. Three clicks had it up to a steady thrum, which Sherlock felt should've been easier to bear, but wasn't. And then, with the fourth, something changed. It passed some threshold of speed or intensity, stopped feeling like physical vibration and became something else he'd never felt before.
Five was white hot and strange, and ran straight up and down his spine and he was making noises that were not words at all, or even trying to be words. Six was like fire, and he tried to tell John it hurt, but he still had no words, couldn't even move beyond restless twitches, but John knew anyhow.
"Right there then," he said, as he turned it back down.
The click was the loudest sound in the room, in the world, and the knowledge that John meant to keep him here, at this level of--insanity--filled his consciousness. It was a high-pitched whine of pleasure, like a heated blade stuck right through him. His hands were curled up tight, eyes screwed shut, jaw clenched, every muscle in his body taut. It was too much, much too much to bear, and it didn't stop.
Wouldn't stop. He didn't even think he was properly hard, and if he was, he couldn't come with the damn sound in, and even supposing he did--this had nothing to do with ordinary physical pleasure. Climax wouldn't bring relief. There was absolutely no reason this couldn't continue indefinitely.
And it seemed as if it might. It stayed steady, but Sherlock's reactions to it didn't. He felt himself fray at the edges, all sense of time gone, colored splotches behind his eyes, ringing in his ears, the tingle of randomly fired nerve endings. It would not go on indefinitely after all. Sooner or later, he would very probably pass out.
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Oh, WELL DONE. I'd read anything of yours, just on the basis of that phrase. :-)
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http://www.medicaltoys.com/Sparklers.html
nsfw!
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That is SCARY!
Gosh, John must have invested a lot of money in this! O_o I guess that's sort of... romantic?
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