Page 87 of Bottoms Up
When the noises slowed, I washed my hands and stood in front of her. I touched her chopsticks. Stroked the tip of her tongue, pitifully jutting out of her mouth. Dry, but still warm. Plenty of blood flow. I could leave them on longer, but…
“No words unless asked a question. No whining. No begging. They can easily go back on.”
She nodded, and I removed them. Her tongue escaped back into her mouth, and she swallowed, over and over.
It took her a while to manage the treadmill — back and forth from running to shitting.
I had more fun with Atlas while she made sure she was empty. I flicked his balls. Swung the weights on them. Found a rubber band and popped them with it. Put hot pepper oil on the penis plug and stuck it back in his peehole, and his reaction wasquitesatisfactory.
It took a minute to fiddle with the mechanism on the cock cage so it would hold the plug in. He wasn’t at the best angle, but I managed.
I helped Silver shower when she was ready, helped dry her off. She was all soft and clean, cock cage still held in place by the harness, cunt still aching, eyes glassy but steady.
I handed her a pair of black nitrile gloves.
“Suit up.”
She pulled them on without asking.
I moved behind Atlas and unlocked the cage on his cock. I had to take the weights on his balls off, but that was okay. They’d be fun to put back on.
His cock sagged out — purple, swollen. The spikes hadn’t done it any favors. If we didn’t allow achange, he was going to feel this fordays.
And I was of a mind to take him off the schedule so we could do exactly that.
His cock was pathetic. Beautiful. Ruined.
I showed Silver the bottle of hot pepper oil, and she held her gloved hand out for me to put some into it.
Once her gloved palms were coated in it, shiny and pretty, she gripped him.
Atlas let out a wail. His hips jerked once, but the bindings held. His head low, cheek pressed to the floor. It was impossible for him to rise with his chest strapped to the floor.
I sat cross-legged on the floor in front of his face and watched him. Observed. Analyzed.
Tears fell fast and furious now while Silver stroked him with slow, cruel care — squeezing, twisting, working the oil into every inch. His cock jerked like it wanted to come and die at the same time.
She said nothing.
Just worked.
Until I handed her the plug.
A different one.
It was thick. Wider than anything he could take without tearing.
She lubed it without comment, held his cock steady, and began to press.
Atlas screamed — a raw, wet-throated sound that echoed against the tile.
Tears streamed down his face, but he didn’t beg. Didn’t move.
Silver forced it deeper. Atlas fought his bonds. His screams rebounding panic and all-encompassing pain.
Deeper.
And then, finally, all the way.
