The Prince's Pleasure

Dern shudders, gasping in air, and Land laughs, squeezes his hips.

"Yes, yes," he says mildly. "Not tonight. But another night, perhaps, I spank this pussy very hard, until it is tight, and then slide the ginger inside. Perhaps this is the same night I force in my knot, yes? A magic trick, like putting my cock through a needle's head, and seeing if it cries."

Dern does cry, and Land laughs, smacking his buttock playfully as he begins to rock his hips. His knot is already halfway swollen, and Dern opens and closes his hands, wishing they weren't bound ahead of him, because he wants to reach back for him, to hold him, to pull him closer.

"You know what it is you are in?" asks Land.

His hips are beginning to move faster, rocking into him harder, and even with the hard slap of his hips against Dern's Dern doesn't move out of the frame he's strapped into, couldn't move even if he wanted to. It's too much, just after he's come, makes his hips jump and makes him gasp and want to wriggle away from the oversensitivity, a sort of cloudy toomuchtoomuch that radiates out from his cunt, and he thinks he whimpers the words, but Land just laughs at him.

"You are stupid too, like carpenter?" he asks, and pulls hard on the harness in to squeeze Dern's cunt around the cock piercing him and his tits at once, and Dern wails out a noise, not able to think straight with Land's cock hammering into him, not able to think at all. "Hm? You cannot answer me, princeling? Perhaps this is for best, that you are used for this purpose, pretty thing strapped in his place."

"What -- what purpose?" Dern manages to choke out: Land's knot is starting to catch whenever he pulls his hips back, but it doesn't stop his speed. He just drags his hips back harder so that Dern's cunt drags around its width, trying to hold it in, and now and then Land pulls back at such an angle that it pops audibly.

It's not even halfway there.

"Such a handsome, princely head, and nothing inside," says Land in a way that makes Dern's insides twist with heat. "Will soon replace all that, hm?"

"Land," Dern says breathlessly, trying not to whine. "Land, I don't know what -- what it is -- "

"Of course you don't," says Land understandingly. "Poor princeling. This is breeding bench."

He has to brace his hands on Dern's arse to push himself free this time, and it hurts when he pulls his knot out, makes a loud, wet sound that Dern hears even over his keening sound of pleasure-agony.

Land teases him, slaps his wet cock around Dern's cunt, his lips, his arsehole, his clit, and it isn't until Dern howls out a wordless plea that Land forces his knot back inside him, and lets it tie them together.

It would be too big to pull it free like this, not unless Land wanted to pull some of Dern with him in the process, but Dern almost wants him to try, wants Land to ruin him, to make sure no man alive could touch Dern's cunt and not know Land had been there first, not know that they are touching another man's property, another cock's sheath.

Land's knot fills him to the brim, makes it feel like he can't breathe, and when he starts to come it flows into Dern in a huge, hot rush that feels even more hyperbolic than usual.

"Ah," he manages to say after a few seconds, because the come rushing into him is washing over the inside of his walls in a way he can actually feel, and there's a pressure in it, a pressure -- "Ah, ah, La- Land, Land -- "

"You think I was joking?" Land asks again.

There's so much come rushing into him he feels like he's going to burst with it, feels like his hole is stuffed full, but then he feels something in him shift, and there's at once a rush of more come and a strange sense of pressure relieving, but it just keeps going.

"Took potion," says Land. "Isn't meant for lycanthropes -- could probably make you burst, if I wanted."

Dern wails, because Land's knot is so big in him that it makes him feel like it won't ever go down again, like his cunt is stretched so wide he really will gape forever, and Land chuckles, fingering his arsehole in a way that makes Dern's eyes roll into his head as he just keeps coming.

The ropes gathered over his belly are beginning to feel tight.

"Land," Dern whimpers, "Land, it's too much, it's too much, I will burst, I will -- "

"No bursting, is only joke," Land assures him, sliding two fingers dry into Dern's arsehole and tugging upwards, which makes Dern clench and twitch around the come pumping into him, and that just encourages it, he thinks, pulls it deeper -- "Your eyes open, princeling?"

"No," says Dern.

"Look," Land tells him, and Dern opens his eyes.

Bent forward in the breeding bench, his belly hangs down, and with the way his belly is swelling outwards, he can feel the harness getting tighter and tighter, the flesh of his widening stomach forcing the harness to bow outward, and he can see the rope grip tightly at the flesh, some of it threatening to press through the gaps in the net it forms.

"Will fool your mother," says Land. "Send you waddling to breakfast table with my come in you, hm? Like you are pregnant already."

It feels heavy.

He can hear it sloshing inside him, wave after wave of it as Land keeps gently rocking his hips inside him, and his belly aches, he can feel the cramp and shift of his stomach, feel the skin stretch. His cunt feels well-fucked and wanting, but it's a dull, raw ache, no touch against his clit to let him actually come, and he wants it --

The rope hurts a little, is digging into him because he is like a balloon, almost, but before he can complain, when he's just opened his mouth to say so, Land pulls a quick release in the rope and sends a portion of the harness falling to the floor, and Dern's come-swollen stomach wobbles with all the weight of Land's come stuffed in him.

It feels even heavier, he thinks, because of the angle he's in, looks bigger, and he hiccoughs quietly.

Land reaches under him and gives his belly a slap: his whole stomach sloshes, and he whines at the way it shifts, full, heavy, aching, too much, too much. He looks like he's swallowed a fucking pumpkin.

"None of those other men could fuck you like this," says Land confidently: he's playing with Dern's arse and it feels good, feels nice, but the pleasure is too distant for him to get even close to coming from it, and he wants to come again so badly he could cry. "This is what I would do you to every night, if I had you for my own, princeling. This is your place, hm? Strapped into breeding bench -- I would leave you like this until it caught, and fertilised your eggs. Keep you in it regularly, of course, make sure you were trained for my cock -- it is what you are good for. You don't want to rule, yes? Here is solution: a kingdom that is not too complicated, will not overfill that pretty head of yours. Only thing you shall be filled with is this."

Dern's clit jerks and jumps, and he feels himself clench, but he can't quite reach the precipice he's desperate for. Land chuckles, sliding his hands over Dern's back, his shoulders, and then reaches underneath him.

He's licked his fingers, Dern thinks, because they're wet when he pulls hold of each of Dern's nipples and begins to pull them like he's milking them, rhythmically tugging one side and then the other. He keeps at it, makes Dern's tits ache and feel oversensitive and overstimulated.

"If I did this every day, these tits would come to milk," Land muses. "But when taking the prince for his proper purpose, hands will not do. Could ask for carpenter to make milking machine too, hm, strap these tits to little cups, suck these tits few hours per day until they are fat and give good milk. You would be good for something then."

Dern is so full of come and Land's huge cock and so embarrassed he feels like he's about to die, and he still can't come.

"Please!" he begs raggedly.

"Good, fat belly," says Land approvingly, slapping it again, harder this time, and it's hard, but because of the angle it makes his belly shunt against the tip of his swollen clit, and Dern whimpers. "It swells very easy because this is what princeling wants, wants to be made fat and pregnant, good breeding bitch."

"Want to -- want to come, Land, please," Dern begs, and Land laughs.

"Good bitch comes when I decide he comes," says Land, beginning to tug and pull on his tits again, and Dern whines, trying to shift free, but he can't move a muscle, impaled as he is on Land's cock and bound in place.

Land really could keep him like this if he wanted to. Dern is hot all over just thinking about it, thinking about Land keeping him like this forever, leashed to a breeding bench to use as he pleases, and Dern imagines himself with his belly so big it touches the floor, full of Land's pups, his tits fat and huge and leaking milk, so that when Land pulls on his teats the way he is it sends milk spurting over the floor.

Something in him goes fuzzy at the edges, and the world narrows even further than it already has. All he is really aware of is the cock inside him and the swelling weight of his belly, and there is a bliss in that, in the way he hovers somewhere in the core of that sensation.

He stirs from that blank ecstasy only when Land's cock, knot mostly deflated, tugs free of him, but before even a few seconds have passed, his knot is replaced with a wide plug, and Dern moans wordlessly as the breeding bench is tilted so that he's parallel to the floor, making his swollen belly shift.

"Drink," orders Land, bringing a skein of water to his mouth, and Dern obeys, swallowing water down until Land takes the water away. Land passes him some morsels of food, too, a few cubes of cheese, some bread, a few morsels of fruit, and obediently Dern takes it all, chews, swallows, although it seems to him that his belly is so full of Land's come that there shouldn't be any space for anything more.

"Land," he asks in a small voice, and Land crouches in front of him, cups his cheek. "I can't -- I still, I'm, I take a... a potion, a contraceptive -- "

"Oh, no real pregnancy," Land promises him, meeting his gaze. "I promise, highness, not real, just a game. You want to stop playing?"

"No," Dern says. "No, I like it. More."

"More," Land agrees, and presses a kiss to his nose before he gets back into character. "I must come again," he decides. "Make sure there is enough come inside you, hm? We shall keep you plugged -- I shall keep adding to what's inside you until you are pregnant or until you can no longer move. Which comes first do you think, princeling?"

Dern shudders, and Land chuckles, tapping the plug stuffed into his cunt several times and making his stomach slosh and jiggle, making his whole pussy throb with pleasure, but not enough --

And then Dern leans in and slides his tongue into Dern's arsehole, and Dern lets out such a loud, sharp wail he feels as if it's splitting his own ears. The pleasure is impossible, far too much and far too little at once, and he feels his arse clench around the hot, wet swipe of Dern's huge tongue, his cunt clenching around the plug too, but it's not enough, it's not enough, he needs, he needs...

"I decide what the princeling needs," Land says, correcting what Dern didn't realise he was saying out loud, and then spears him on his tongue again.

The teasing goes on for so long Dern feels as if he's going mad, and he gasps, moans out sounds into the cushioned bench, and when Land finally turns the crank and tilts the breeding bench back forward, he almost sobs with gratitude.

"More," he moans, "more, more, please, please -- "

"More what?" Land asks.

"Please, please, Land, more -- "

"Be specific, please," says Land. "More of what, what is it princeling desires? More cock? More tongue? Hm?"

Dern's burning with humiliation.

"Land," he hisses. "Land, please -- "

"More...?" prompts Land.

"More come," Dern sobs, and Land releases a low sound of satisfaction.

"So well trained, so obedient," he says approvingly, and replaces the plug with his cock.

He comes faster the second time, but the come itself flows slower. Perhaps it's just that there's already so much of it stuffed inside him, or perhaps it's because Land chooses to stroke slow, even circles over the swollen flesh of his belly instead of torturing his tits.

If he could get pregnant, he would, from this. It would be guaranteed, he thinks,

Land's balls keep pumping it into him, and by the time he's done, by the time Dern dizzily comes to the awareness that Land is finished, he looks pregnant. Not just a little swollen, not just overly plump, but pregnant, gravid: his belly has a huge, rounded swell to it.

Is this what six months pregnant would look like, pumped full of Land's pups? Eight months? He doesn't know.

It's so heavy that when Land pulls him out of the breeding bench and sets him on his feet, his knees buckle and he almost falls, and Land laughs, picking him up and carrying him with his arms under Dern's knees and shoulders.

"You want to come?" asks Land. "I will make it hard, but you will come hard, also. You want?"

"Please," Dern begs. "Please, let me come, let me come, please, please -- "

Land hangs him from the hook on the wall by his wrists, so that his back is to the cool stone, his thighs spread apart, his legs unable to touch the ground, and his belly feels so heavy he wants to cry.

"This is how they want to see their prince," says Land, putting his hands on the fat swell of his stomach and squeezing slightly. Dern stares at the yield of the flesh under his hands, and when he slaps, hears and feels the strange slosh in him. He clenches around the plug, trying to force it out of him, but it doesn't budge.

Land puts his thumb and forefinger around his clit and squeezes: he has to push his hand up and underneath the huge swell of his belly to do so, and when he tugs and jerks at it, Dern's belly is in the way.

The ecstasy is so powerful Dern feels as if his mind will be cracked in two by it, and he gasps, grinds onto the air, onto Dern's fingers, but every shift of his hips makes his belly jump and the come inside him slosh and shift, and it's so humiliating, so overwhelming --

When he comes, he yells, he knows he does, and he's only aware afterwards that he's drooling slightly, saliva dropping down his chin and onto his abused tits, his gigantic belly.

"I can take plug out now," says Land as he lifts Dern off the hook and sets him down, arms wrapped around him to keep him standing as Dern falls back against his chest. "Can have bath. Or, if you want, go to bed now. Stay like this all night, full of me."

Dern shivers, feeling the blood flow back between his legs, his clit giving not so much a jump, but a vague, hopeful twitch.

"Yes," Land growls in his ear, teeth grazing the shell of it. "And when I want to come in few more hours, will not even wake you. You will know only that you are swollen even bigger when you wake, and that I have used you as pleases me. You like this?"

"Yes," Dern says breathlessly. "Yes. Please, yes, I want -- I want that."

"Good," says Land. "And tomorrow, we waddle you to breakfast, say we are getting married."

Dern laughs, and then moans when Land pushes his belly up to finger his clit again.

"I wish," he says longingly, and Land kisses the back of his neck before pushing him back onto the bed.

He lies on his back, under the weight of all Land's come, and it aches, and it hurts, and when he comes again, Land forcing his tongue underneath the heavy swell of his own come to reach his clit, it feels so good it's genuinely indescribable.

"How long does it last?" Dern asks the darkness a few minutes later. Land, already almost asleep in the bed, glances at him blearily.

"Hm? Is not fairy dust. Once you take out plug, you just need to -- "

"No, not the... Not that. The potion. To make you come more."

"Oh, that," says Land sleepily, sprawling more into the pillows. "Is permanent."

Dern doesn't know if he's joking or not, but his belly is so big he can't reach his clit to wank himself off about it, and his only option is to sleep.