The Prince of Pleasure

"Oh Belltor, you clearly just love being trussed up like this for me, perhaps I should move you to my chambers as my own trophy hmm?" Ourania giggled.

A blow too far, no one made a trophy of one of the Iron Thiasus, especially not the Master of Executions. With a scream of rage Belltor threw everything he had into breaking his right hand, still trapped in its gauntlet, free. Everything of his internal systems was diverted to that one limb. Muscles both organic and metallic screamed with him as they overloaded, but with herculean effort the ceramite of the gauntlet itself began to crack. Ourania noticed the spiderweb of fractures growing and moved to take a step backwards but it was already too late. With an almighty BANG the ceramite gave, Belltor's fist came free in a shower of broken armour and collided with the smaller man's shoulder. Ourania was sent flying across the room, his concentration broken, the psychic influence he had over Belltor's armour frame shattered too. Within seconds he had hit the manual release on his remaining gauntlet and boots. He strode across the room, rolling his right shoulder as it steamed from the strain he had placed it under. The pain was delicious but he had no doubt he would pay for it later.

Now though, it was time for revenge.

Within naught but a single mighty stride he had crossed to room to where Ourania lay. He grabbed a fistful of what passed for Ourania's hair and hauled the void-born up, dangling him off the ground as though he weighed nothing. Much to his irritation the Navigator let out a moan as he did so.

"Where's that disrespectful tongue now you pathetic little cur?"

"Right here handsome," with that Ourania opened his mouth wide and a drool slicked, pointed tongue flopped down to his chin.

With a grunt he forcefully pushed Ourania down to kneel at his feet, maintaining his grip on the writhing tentacles. The Navigator was panting, his mouth kept wide open and tongue out. The smug bastard was clearly enjoying it. Belltor would deal with that later, right now he had his own urges to sate. With his free hand he ripped the loincloth from around his waist. Space marines were already super-humanly well endowed, those in service to Slaanesh were so to a ridiculous degree. Thick cabling ran the length of his engorged shaft giving it bulging ridges, the veins were a deep purple and far thicker than would be expected a gift from his daemonic patron. Belltor took a moment to enjoy the sight, his cock stretched from the base of Ourania's neck to the top of his head - with girth to match. The Navigator seemed transfixed by it, all eyes staring, glinting with lust. Without another word he pushed his cock past Ourania's lips. Ourania gave a muffled moan as he pushed it deeper into the Navigators mouth.

"Your big mouth is your fucking problem Navigator, let's see how big it really is."

Any mortal would have gagged long ago but Ourania was not one such being. Instead his long tongue snaked itself around Belltor's cock, squeezing, pulling, encouraging him to go deeper. The feeling was sensational, the warm, wet, welcoming mouth of Ourania and the electric tingles of raw pleasure where his tongue touched. Somewhere in the back of Belltor's mind he remembered that Ourania carried a potent aphrodisiac in his saliva. All that mattered to Belltor right now though was sating his lust. With an almighty thrust he forced the entire length of his cock down Ourania's throat. Taken by surprise, this time the Navigator did gag. Belltor allowed himself a rare grin.

"Not so rude are you now huh you pathetic little bitch? Maybe I should see just how long you can last like that."

In between gags Bellor could feel Ourania moaning around his cock, the feeling was at once both unique and utterly pleasurable. Belltor gave a groan of his own as the long tongue now wrapped itself around his balls, slowing massaging them. Drool pattered down onto the floor between them, he could see Ourania's body tensing as his own pleasure built. The mouthy bastard really was enjoying it. No matter, Belltor could certainly fix that. With a swfit pull backward the length of his cock almost fully withdrew from the eager hole. He left the engorged head just resting on Ourania's lips, who immediately began panting in excitement once more. With a gruff grunt he thrust forwards once more. All of Ourania's eyes went wide in surprise at the force of it. Belltor gave him no respite, pulling back and thrusting forwards, over and over. Each heavy thrust brought with it ever louder grunts from Belltor and more pathetic moans from Ourania. It didn't take long though before Belltor could feel his balls begin to tighten ready for that wonderful release in the name of the Prince of Pleasure. It was Ourania's blasted drool with its potent gift that was the cause.

No matter, Belltor would not be done with his quarry even after that.

He increased the ferocity of his pace, watching in delight at the tear that traced its way down from Ourania's mortal eye. Gone was any trace of Witchfire now, Ourania had not the presence of mind to sustain it. The muscles in Belltor's core began to tense in anticipation. His cock was pulsing and twitching causing Ourania's cheeks to bulge. With an evil snarl he thrust once, twice, thrice more before ramming his cock in as far as it would go. The orgasm hit him like a blissful tidal wave. Every muscle in his body tensed rigid as his cock spent its sticky load. Ourania fared far worse but certainly seemed to enjoy it as much. He stiffened as Belltor's cum began to pour down his throat, but only for a moment before surrendering to the sheer hedonistic joy of it. His many eyes rolled upwards as his own wave of delightful pleasure wracked his body. The gift of Slaanesh was contained in the seed of all her Astartes, but to one already blessed with it, it tasted like the sweetest nectar.

Belltor pulled backwards, releasing Ourania who sank downward, body limp but still upright. His mouth was wide open and leaking cum in a thick string that ran down his front. His eyes were glassy, unseeing, lost in delight. Perfect, thought Belltor, his witchcraft was useless if the Navigator couldn't form a single part. Something that made the next part of Belltor's revenge all the easier. A brute though he may be, Belltor was still an Iron Warrior at heart and an appreciation of technology ran through them all. On a shelf next to the armour frame were a pair of what looked to be skeletal hands made of metal and wiring, tipped with short but wicked looking claws. In reality they fitted to the back of Belltor's hands, connecting with implanted sockets, and allowed him to control the frames mechadendrites. Usually it aided him in the many repairs he had to perform, now though it would serve another purpose. Claws fitted, all it took was a flex of his fingers for the metal tendrils to snake across the floor to the dazed Ourania. One wrapped itself around his wrists, pulling tight to bind them both together. Two others coiled around an ankle each. A wave of a hand saw Ourania raised into the air and held in place as though on all fours at Belltor's waist height. With a complete lack of delicacy Belltor cut away the form fitting trousers Ourania had been wearing, throwing the torn fabric aside. Seeing the slim form of the Navigator naked caused Belltor's arousal to burn bright once more. Ourania's ass was tight and toned. Long lithe legs that were made for drawing the eye held fast purely for Belltor. Even the Navigator's cock was small and quaint. Perfectly smooth and hairless, although his balls hung free his shaft was encased in an ornate silver chastity cage. It would not do for the Navigator to forget his place after all.

"Enjoying the view are we?" came Ourania's groggy voice, that insolent edge still remained though, "you know if you harm me the Lord Discordant will have your head, no matter who you are."

Belltor let out a menacing chuckle as he lightly traced the claws of one hand over the delicate skin of Ourania's back. The other man whimpered in response as he squirmed in his restraints.

"Don't you worry I have no intention of breaking my tools, you are simply one to help me release some tension after battle."

Ourania let out another whimper in response, one which grew louder as Belltor ran the claws up his inner thighs, soft enough to leave only faint pink marks. Softly as it may be though it still drove Ourania wild. He tensed and pulled at his unyielding bonds. The pathetic, ornately decorated excuse for a manhood that dangled between his legs leaked precum, drip by drip onto the floor.

Perfect.

Belltor raised his hands up and placed them near the top of Ourania's ribs. Should he have wished to he could have easily laced his fingers around the bound man's thin frame. That was not the plan right now though. Instead he traced the claws down the sides of Ourania's ribs, who began to thrash and moan, the sensation delightful. Overwhelming. His hands ended their path at Ourania's waist, holding him ready. Belltor's engorged member rested against the tight ass before him, twitching in anticipation. Ourania tried wiggling his ass against it, a feeble attempt to hurry along preceedings. When that failed, the Navigator moved to more extreme methods. An unseen force began to coalesce around Belltor's cock, trying to move it into the position Ourania was craving. Belltor was far too quick for him however, in the blink of an eye his huge hand was gripping Ourania's delicate balls. The thumb claw gently grazed the soft skin.

Ourania's psychic meddling vanished with a whimper.

"You are here for my fun little tool. We go at my pace," growled Belltor.

For his gruff demeanour Belltor wished to waste no more time either. He lined his cock up with Ourania's tight hole and with a gentle pull on the Navigators balls he pushed himself in. His cock was slick with Ourania's drool and his own cum so it slid in easily to half way buried.

"Oh fuck..." moaned Ourania, his legs already beginning to tremble with excitement.

Belltor grunted. Ourania was far tighter than he'd remembered, it would take focus not to finish too quickly. Placing his hands back on either side of Ourania's waist he pushed a little further. Ourania's moans became wordless, his head thrown back and caged cock dripping. Belltor took a moment to savour the sensation when he had buried himself balls deep in the bratty Navigator's ass. The sight before him was delightful and the sensation surely better than any slave could provide him. There was only one thing missing however.

"Beg, fuckmeat."

Ourania whimpered in response. The last vestiges of his fiesty nature battling with his need for more. Belltor grinned cruelly. His muscles weren't the only part of himself that he could enhance. With a mere thought his cock swelled within Ourania's ass, the cabling and corruption working in tandem. Ourania there his head back, eyes wide, mouth agape. The chaos marine focused on making no noise himself, Ourania wasn't the only one that this felt like pure ecstacy to. Moments seemed to stress into hours but it was not long before Belltor relaxed, letting his cock return to normal. Ourania let out a noise somewhere between a sob and a moan.

"I'm not going to use this ass unless you beg, I'll go find some-"

"Please, fuck please," Ourania's pleading was high pitched and desperate, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry for earlier just please use me like the tool I am! Please Belltor! Please Master!"

Belltor needed no more encouragement. He began to move even before Ourania had finished talking, sending that thought command to his cock once more. The Navigator's moans rose in pitch until they were only pathetic, needy gasps and pants. His hands gripped around the smaller man's waist tightly, using them to slam himself forwards into the tight hole before him. The claws may leave marks but right now he didn't care one bit. There was no need for delicacy or rhythm right now, all Belltor cared for was sating himself. His pace was rough and brutal, no quarter was given to the tool of his pleasure. Not that Ourania cared, he was lost in bliss himself, he would have fallen limp if not for the mechadendrites. Belltor grunted as he pounded away, his pleasure was already building rapidly, the combination of the aphrodisiac and his enlarged size was intoxicating. He increased his pace digging his fingers into the Navigator's waist. His cock was twitching in anticipation once more. Each throb, each pulse caused a spasm of delight to wrack Ourania's body. It was a miracle the lithe man hadn't finished already.

A miracle that was not to last.

He was fucking the pathetic whimpering figure hard enough that the mechadendrites were screaming alarms at the damage to their locking systems. Still he did not care. He was far too close for anything else to matter. Instead he grabbed a fistful of Ourania's writhing hair and pulled his head high. With a growl he slammed his cock home one more time.

"Cum you little fucking bitch. Give praise to Slaanesh."

Ourania's moans filled the small chamber as his orgasm hit him like a powerfist. His already tight ass clenched and spasmed sending Belltor over the edge for the second time. But most certainly not for the last time that night...

At the beginning of the next night-cycle Belltor stood on the main bridge at the right hand of the Lord Discordant as befitted his station. The ships ancient cogitators were displaying a swirling image of the local system's star map in the air before them. The Lord was prattling on about their next world to strike at. The next perfect battle to pursue. Belltor wasn't paying the matter any mind. Grand strategy was not his expertise. They would point him at something that needed utterly decimating and he would get the job done no matter the cost.

So big man, your chambers again later?

Belltor stiffened at the voice in his head. Both in his posture and his cock. This had not been the first time that Ourania had riled him up to the point that Belltor had vented all of his frustration on him. It seemed it certainly would not be the last. The Lord Discordant needed Belltor focused on destruction, not slave taking. It seemed as such he may have been granted his own.

One that knew exactly how to sate him after battle.

This story was a commission from a client who wished to remain anonymous.