Page 11 of Under His Wings

As for the limits of my body’s endurance though...

Slick fingers reached between my legs and pushed against my hole, circling it softly, testingly. Between the post-orgasmic bliss and the earlier rimming, I was loose enough that putting the first finger in wasn’t much of a problem. It sank in readily, swallowed by my hungry body, and when Zach pulled back only to return with two fingers my groan reverberated through the room. There was something so intimate about being opened, slowly but surely, inexorably being made to take more, the other person shaping your insides for their desire, for their use. My hands twitched at my sides and, as I didn’t quite know what to do with them, I let them roam over the body under me. By the time a third finger made its way into me I was clutching at my lover’s back, hiding my muffled groans in his neck, lost to the pleasure wrung from me when the angel decided to switch gears and started playing instead of just preparing me. His questing fingers pushed against my prostate and I nearly bit my tongue to stifle a whimper. I didn’t know if I should press back and encourage him to target my sweet spot or if I should lean away from it to not get overwhelmed by the concentrated dose of bliss. In the end my hips did a little dance, fucking me on those slender digits, making me lose all my dignity somewhere along the way.

Who cared about dignity when I was so close? I could almost taste the upcoming release. God, so close.

I may have mumbled something along those lines as the angel laughed and pulled at my hair, stopping me from hiding my face in his neck.

“I told you I wanted to see you. I’m going to catalogue every twitch of your expression as you come apart. Show me everything, precious.”

It’s not like I had a choice whether to show him everything or not. When he started slamming his fingers up into my tight hole, hammering into me with bestial ferocity, I lost control of my expression, of everything really. My mind blanked out as the onslaught of pleasure made me cry out and mindlessly chase the molten heat inside of me that was ready to burst into a flame.

“Ah... aaa... ah!”

My body seized with a powerful orgasm, muscles spasming as I shuddered to completion, pulse after pulse of cum escaping from my cock onto Zach’s stomach. He milked me thoroughly, his fingers pressing into my swollen prostate until I was an incoherent mess. I sagged against his warm body, not having enough strength to sit upright, and he let me lean against him, the hand in my hair switching to petting me gently. I drifted for a while, content with drowning in this warm haze, but after a few minutes I blinked my eyes open, some of the coherence returning to me.

And with it, realization that Zachariel wasn’t done with me.

His fingers were still buried deep inside me, threateningly close to the oversensitive bundle of nerves, like a predator just waiting to pounce. And me making a groan of despair was apparently the signal as the digits started moving again.

“Too much!” I cried out, trying to wriggle away but the fingers were insistent and followed my movements, pressing in and out without mercy. “Nngh! Too... ah, ah... too m-much!”

“Is it?” Zach asked pleasantly. “I think you can take much, much more. I’m only just starting after all. But if you really want me to stop at any point, darling, just flare your power.” His fingers stopped for a moment to give me a chance to think. “Do you understand? Can you flare your power if you need to?”

I took a shuddering breath and nodded.

“I’m so sensitive. You are such a bastard,” I said.

And I didn’t use the power even as the fingers got back to their work once more.

It truly was too much for my body but my mind relished the sensations absolutely overflowing my system. A particularly hard press against my sweet spot made me produce a wretched sound that was nearly a sob. Seeking a way to ground myself I lashed out at the body in front of me, my clawed fingers digging into Zachariel’s arms until I could smell blood in the air.

“Hands behind you,” a hard voice commanded and my mind jolted in an automatic response to obey. I grabbed my left wrist with my right hand so tightly I knew there were going to be bruises, but when Zachariel kept his punishing pace I found out I couldn’t do it, couldn’t keep my trembling hands together when my body felt like a live wire. I couldn’t come like this, not yet. Not when it was the third time in such a short period, but it felt as though I was going to come. Every touch was magnified to horrifying proportions and I lost control of my hands and put them forward, clutching at Zach once more.

When the never-ending too-much, too-fast input stopped it was like a bucket of cold water.

Oh, I disobeyed an order, I thought hazily, looking at my hands on my dom’s chest.

“It’s hard, isn’t it?” Zachariel cooed at me, not angry at all. “Don’t worry, I will help you.”

I was shifted into a new position and I gave no resistance as Zach manhandled me as he wanted until I found myself on the floor, my hands behind me getting tied with something... was that a tie? Whatever it was, it was strong enough to hold as I tried to pull my wrists apart. I was caught and trussed up and I could do nothing to resist. A shiver of excitement ran through my body. Anticipation for the delicious torment to come made my breath come out faster. I was so focused, so strung-up, that I flinched when Zach touched my ass but he shushed me, his hand petting gentle circles on me until my head lolled on the floor as I surrendered myself.

“Good boy,” Zach's voice was heavy like molasses, rich like honey. It dripped over me, getting into every corner of my soul, even the parts I tried to keep hidden, filling those dark corners which unexpectedly flourished when exposed to the angelic light.

“More,” I whispered, jumping off the cliff of want.

The fall was glorious.

This time Zach’s strong hand pressed me into the floor before his body leaned over mine, keeping my bound hands sandwiched between us, letting his heavy form contain me as I thrashed when he reached for my cock and set a fast rhythm. I was pinned in place like a butterfly, hopeless to move away.

And I found freedom in it.

Freedom to cry and babble a litany of broken words, to not care about anything else than here and now and how I was made to feel.

The room echoed with the symphony of my whimpers, moans, pleas.

“Yes, yes, please, no, ah! Please, y-yes.”

And Zachariel gave me not what I wanted – even I didn’t know what it was at that point – but what I needed. His second hand sank once more into my hole, the dual sensation of being stroked inside and outside coalescing into a such a heady mix of pain-pleasure, too-much-not-enough, I thought it would never end and I would spend eternity suspended in this place where time didn't exist. I could only feel. Only be.

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