Valentine's Tease Ch. 08

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

****

Forcing His Orgasm

The whale shark groaned, his overly muscled arms chained to the wooden bench, on his front, although Vickers' broad chest would have been more than enough for him to rest on. The anthro panted heavily, though his body did not possess the ability to sweat, but the thick, heavy chains ensured that he wasn't going anywhere, locked up in a dark room with only his own moans for company.

Those and the fuck machine, of course, the driving force of the machine-controlled dildo up under his tail. That too, of course. Vickers grunted thickly, opening and closing his mouth, though the room was so dark that he could not honestly tell whether his eyes were open or not. It just didn't matter anymore when that pressure was there to take up every last bit of his attention, the muscled stud made less than what he was in the moment. He should have been the one on top, the one in control, but she made him feel like he was nothing more than a slut on his knees, whimpering and moaning for pleasure that he did not truly know was coming.

Of course, she had not been so cruel so as not to leave him a hole in the bench for the fat length of his cock. It would not be used, however, even if she had not wanted to see him twisting and writhing, his cock pinned between his body and the hard wood of the bench, spurting and drooling, forced into orgasm after orgasm through the tightness of his backdoor entrance.

Vickers panted heavily, his fine wobbling lightly as he tried to grind back, though that was only due to the rope running alongside it. That rope tightened at one end around his throat and the other around his tail, a harness layering the full length to the fin at the end, so that it was forced up and over his back. He could release the tension on his neck if he raised his tail as high as he could possibly force it but the muscle strain was too much to keep that up forever, the ache and conundrum increasing more and more with every tenaciously passing minute.

She was watching. He knew that. She was always watching.

Yet the machine did not slow or stop, a steady rhythm pounding his aching hole, stretching him wide. The cock was huge, for him, and much bigger than his own, but that was the meat of it all: it was meant to humiliate him. It was meant to make him feel small and weak, like his muscles meant nothing at all. He was not a top to her and his mistress laughed as she shoved him down, mocking his size, how he submitted so very easily to her.

"You're not even worth a real dick."

And that was why she'd locked him into the fuck machine, his anal ring stretched and strained as he panted and tried to bear back, caught between terribly delightful opposing courses of action. His cock throbbed, balls swinging, yet there was no denying the irrevocable pound of the device as it drove up against his prostate, demanding something of him that he had no right to deliver. She had not said he could and yet there was no way to hold back even an orgasm like that as he growled and grunted in the back of his throat, rolling his hips up the best he could, pleasure building and building until he could stand it no more.

Orgasm. Was it his? Or hers? There was no way to tell and he didn't spare it another thought as he exploded, nuts aching, spilling a load over the floor beneath the bench that was his resting place and his bondage. It was not comfortable but it was not meant to be as he added to the loads beneath him, ejaculating without something even touching his dick, moaning out loud.

Was that it? Was it over? Oh, he was a fool to think so, head pounding as the machine sped up, ramming him full as it forced his cock back to full hardness to quickly, in such a way that it didn't seem like his body should have been able to keep up with such rough appeal. And yet none of it was for him to decide as he grunted and snarled and strained at his bondage, skin prickling, heaving and groaning, though getting nowhere.

It was tight - his hole, that was. Tighter after climax, though he could not have said how many loads he'd been forced through already. What pleasure there was proved to be fleeting as he heaved and lifted his arse willingly, even though it was only an inch or two. It was all he could do to show it, show her, that he really was submissive, that he had given in, that he was well and truly broken... Yet not even Vickers could have said just what he may have been atoning for in being locked into something that was both delightful and deadly at the same time.

How long could he take it? His balls churned as another load of cum squirted to the floor, spending himself when he had nothing left to give. How much time had passed? How would he know? Ah, but there was no way, his tail hole tighter than ever, closing down around the toy as if that could keep it out or, in some insane way, appease her to allow him, at long last, some manner of relief.

His mistress was not that kind, however. He should have known that. Vickers should have always known that. And so it was that the muscled, studly, broken whale shark moaned and howled without the breath to do so in his bondage, his body forced through climax after climax, each one coming with less pleasure and a greater strain to his body that toyed, furiously, with an edge of pain that not even he could have expected.

But there was one thing he didn't know, that he thought should have been true, as time dragged on and on in the darkness, his only company that of the sensations that his body was forced to endure, orgasm having no real meaning anymore.

The fuck machine didn't have an off-switch.