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It’s one of their rougher scenes that night. Pete feels the thrill of struggling as he tests his binds, but can’t break free of them.
He is in one of Vegas’ cells for prisoners, this one deep-cleaned the day before and further away from the rest. His hands are in handcuffs behind him, attached to a ring on the wall. He is kneeling, his feet tied together by a thick length of chain. He has been stripped down to his boxers and as he squirms, he lets himself enjoy the rush of humiliation and helplessness of being bound like this with no escape.
The door opens and the scene pulls Pete in.
His captor walks in, arrogance in every stride. The heavy door closes behind him (presumably by a guard standing outside) (any guard that might be outside will be, in reality, immediately leaving the area, but Prisoner Pete is not aware of this) and the man crouches down in the empty concrete room to look Pete in the eye. Pete curls his lip and glares, to which the man smirks.
“Enjoying your stay?” he asks in English. Pete sets his jaw and stays silent, making it clear that he will not be cooperating. This earns him a chuckle and the man standing up. Pete does his best not to focus on the tight black pants he is wearing and the way the motion emphasizes certain areas. The man may look hot, with slicked back hair and a black-and-white button-down that shows off half of his chest, but being in captivity is not the time to get horny! “Don’t worry,” the man practically coos, still speaking in goddamn English. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”
Pete gives this the skeptical look it deserves. That gets him an entire grin. “Well, not unless you ask me to,” the man amends. With this, he takes one final step toward Pete so that his crotch is right in front of Pete’s face. Pete gulps and tries to keep his face expressionless.
A hand finds its way into his hair and starts gently petting it. The gesture is so uncharacteristic that Pete fights the urge to flinch. He looks up into dark eyes. “Tell me, do you know why we haven’t killed you?” This question is probably one that demands an answer, given that the man has switched to Thai. Pete still refuses to answer. It may not serve much purpose, but he knows they are going to kill him anyway. He at least wants the comfort of knowing he resisted till the end.
The slap still surprises him though. His head jerks to the side and he fights back a whimper as he turns it back, looking up at his captor again. The man’s hand cups his stinging cheek, gently now. “Oh, pet,” he tuts. Pete registers the coldness of multiple rings and belatedly realizes that’s probably why the slap stung so much. “Don’t you know you should answer when someone asks you a question?” His hand pats Pete’s cheek in a patronizing manner.
Then suddenly, the man’s other hand is grabbing his hair and tilting his head back harshly. Pete lets out a stunned inhale before he can stifle it. He sees the man smiling, teeth gleaming like a shark’s. “But it’s okay, every new pet has to be broken in.” Pete doesn’t know what the man means by this and tries not to let it rattle him, but his captor seems to smell his fear.
“Oh, that’s right, you don’t know.” The man’s grin turns feral. “After we caught you, we were going to torture you for information. But before we were even able to get to that, your organization reached out to us. You see, they figured you wouldn’t hold up under pressure-” Pete feels a hot flush of shame go through him at the words and he is sure his captor sees it. He knows he isn’t the best, but he never thought-
“-and they gave up all the information about what you were doing willingly. Even paid us reparations. We know all about why you were here, and how you were planning to use the passcode to access my secret office.” Pete feels his body go cold. His head is still pulled back and his scalp is starting to hurt. Dark eyes are boring into him and Pete shuts his eyes, as if that would make the man shut up, make all he said untrue. But he just continues.
“They even decided to give you to us as a gift of goodwill. Made it clear we could do whatever we want with you.”
It gets worse. It gets so much worse. There’s no one coming for him.
Pete starts to thrash against his bonds for the first time this man came in. His head hurts from the pressure against his scalp now, but his struggling does nothing for the handcuffs and chain binding him. He is stopped by the man letting go of his hair and gripping Pete’s face tightly in his hands. His captor (executioner?) crouches until they’re nose-to-nose. Pete opens his eyes is paralyzed by the proximity to his captor’s wolfish gaze.
“Poor pet,” the man murmurs. “You don’t realize what this means?” Pete is not sure he does. He swallows but stays silent. His captor must take it as an answer. “It means,” and the delivery is like honey, “that I decide what happens to you. Whether you live or die, it’s up to me. You want to live, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Pete breathes out. His throat is incredibly dry. The man’s eyebrow raises and Pete continues, stumbling over himself a little. “Yes, please. Please let me live.” His dignity is already down the drain, he has nothing to lose.
The man runs his thumbs over Pete’s cheekbones. “Good,” he croons. “Good boy. You’re going to be a wonderful pet.” Abruptly, the man stands up and his hands move back into Pete’s hair. He tugs Pete’s head a bit so it’s right in front of the bulge in his pants. “You know what to do, don’t you?”
Pete has… an idea, though he has never done this before. He is most definitely a virgin (at this moment, that is). His hands are still bound behind him, so he has no hope of undoing the belt, but he does his best to nose at the clothed dick in front of him. He looks up through his lashes at the man’s face and tries to communicate that he is doing his best.
It doesn’t seem to be enough. The man clicks his tongue in a distinctly disappointed manner. “You don’t know how to do something so simple?” The hand in his hair tightens. “With how easily we caught you, I’m surprised you never had to suck your boss’ dick to make it as far as you did.”
Pete feels the hot shame wash over him, not just at the insinuation, but that he can’t do whatever it is that’s wanted of him. “I-” he starts, but is immediately interrupted by a slap. He gasps and tries to re-orient himself.
“Don’t speak unless I tell you to.” The man uses the grip still in his hair to pull him a little, just enough that he’s straining to keep his knees on the ground. “I’m going to be nice and help you a little.” He’s abruptly let go and Pete falls down, butt crashing into his calves. Ouch. Then his hair is gripped again (his scalp is on fire at this point) and he is being guided to the bulge again. “Lick,” comes the firm command.
Pete sticks out his tongue hesitantly and laps at the fabric a little. He looks up, hoping that this was what the man wanted. It earns him a smirk. “Better,” the man praises, then slaps him again. Pete inhales and tries to breathe through the sting. “But ungrateful. You didn’t even thank me for being nice.”
Pete tries not to whimper. “T-thank you,” he stammers.
“Thank you, what?” the man prompts, as if there’s something else, something that Pete is forgetting. He frantically searches his mind, but comes up blank. He doesn’t know this man’s name and before he can ask, he’s already been slapped for a third time.
Pete feels the beginning of a prickle in his eyes, which signals that he’s not far from crying. The man sighs as if Pete has failed to do something incredibly simple. “I suppose it’s to be expected for a pet to be somewhat stupid.” He yanks Pete’s head back painfully. “This is the first and last time I will tell you this, and then I expect you to remember. I’m your owner, pet.”
Pete does his best to nod with the uncomfortable angle his head is pulled back at. His owner starts to raise his eyebrows and Pete quickly blurts: “Thank you, owner! Thank you for, for being nice and telling me.”
The smile he earns is soft, mocking. “Maybe you can be taught,” his owner muses. “Now, show me what you can do. No more second chances.” And he is pulled back to try for a third time.
Pete does his best to make up for his mistakes, giving soft, enthusiastic kitten licks to the cock trapped inside the pants. (Pete’s own cock started getting hard a while ago, but he’s doing his best to ignore that.) Finally, he is pulled away and receives a verdict: “Adequate.”
The humiliation sinks into him, even as his owner undoes the belt. He seems to contemplate it for a moment. Then it’s being wrapped around Pete’s neck and pulled tight - not tight enough to constrict his breathing, but enough that he feels it on every inhale and exhale. “There we go.” His owner seems proud of himself. “No collar for you yet, but this should do the job, right?” He pats Pete’s cheek patronizingly. Pete swallows and he feels the pressure against his throat.
His owner doesn’t even pull his pants down, just takes out his cock. Pete tries not to feel intimidated by seeing a dick up close. It most definitely does not make his mouth water. It is just so huge and thick, and Pete has most definitely never even seen a dick before! How did poor, virginal him get in this situation! How is he even supposed to get it in his mouth, something so large and most definitely unfamiliar!
Still, he has a proverbial axe hanging above his head. He has to do his job well as a… pet (the word makes him squirm). Tentatively, Pete leans closer and licks at the head. He stalls for time a little by licking up the shaft toward the balls, but isn’t quite able to reach all the way toward them, range of motion still limited. Instead, he moves back toward the head and slowly takes it into his mouth, looking up through his lashes to see his owner gazing down indulgently. The hands in his hair card through it gently.
Pete is surprised he’s being allowed this much freedom. He would have expected his owner to lose patience already and force Pete down to choke on his cock.
And so, it’s because Pete is so very new and inexperienced that he doesn’t quite manage to tuck his teeth behind his lips. One of his incisors scrapes along the tip in a very unpleasant manner. As soon as it happens, Pete knows he has made a mistake.
His head is wrenched back and the expression on his owner’s face is furious. There's suddenly an intense pressure on his dick as it’s being stepped on. Pete yelps in pain.
“Alright,” his owner spits. “If that’s how you want it.” Pete opens his mouth to protest, to defend himself, but then there is a cock being shoved into his open mouth and down his throat. He gags and frantically tries to breathe only to realize he cannot.
He is vaguely aware of his nose brushing his owner’s pubes, but it fades away to the all-powerful lack of air. He is vaguely aware of himself bucking and struggling, but the hand in his hair holds fast, fist clenching even tighter until Pete feels as if his hair is being pulled out, and he is still choking on his owner’s dick. Tears are running down his face and he isn’t even sure of when they started.
Then suddenly he is being hauled back, and all he has time for is one panicked breath before it’s back in his throat, suffocating him again. He is flailing again, his hands behind him scrabbling at the wall helplessly. He hears a gleeful laugh above him as his owner chokes him even harder, until Pete’s nose is squished against his pubic bone, the coarse hair tickling Pete’s nose.
Pete feels a rush behind his temples as the lack of air starts getting to him, feels all the blood in his body as it runs beneath the skin. The next time he is pulled off and gets to take a gulp of air, he feels floaty, weightless. He stops struggling as he is choked on his owner’s cock, over and over, until he is nothing but a toy, a pet, unthinking.
He doesn’t know how long he stays like this, in this limbo of being solely a vessel for his owner’s pleasure. His owner has gone from laughing to a steady stream of dirty talk - Pete cannot make out most of it, but some words float down: slut, taking it so, teach you, fuck, but most of all, everpresent, is pet.
Finally, the hands hauling him back and forth start to speed up - Pete is no longer suffocating, able to take shorter, quicker breaths. The cock keeps ramming its way down his throat though and Pete feels the fire of arousal in his belly even as he keeps drifting, carried by the thrusts inside his mouth.
Then Pete is hauled in and loses his breath one final time and feels warm cum in his throat. It seems to drag on forever, until there is blood rushing in his ears, and then the softening cock is retreating, allowing him to drag in large gulps of air - mostly on autopilot, the reptilian part of his brain fighting to stay alive. Every other part of his brain still feels offline, hazy. Most of the cum had gone straight down his esophagus, but some of it is still in his mouth, and he swallows what he can.
All of a sudden, the pressure on Pete’s dick eases. His owner’s foot had been stepping on him the entire time. Pete lets out a keen at the loss, hips jerking faintly as if that could bring it back. His owner turns to look at him from where he’s been tucking his cock away, raising his eyebrows a little disbelievingly.
Then he is crouching down and they are face-to-face again. A hand pulls down his boxers indifferently and then his owner’s face twists in a derisive smile. “Seriously? You got off on that?” Pete feels the hot shame course through him and, to his horror, the words make a drop of pre-cum appear at the tip of his rock-hard cock. He cannot stop himself from humping the air a little, seeking any kind of friction, the arousal surging in his veins too hard to ignore.
His owner makes a pitying sort of coo. “Oh, poor pet. You’re such a slut.” He raises a hand to wipe one of Pete’s tears, the motion almost kind, if you squint the right way. “I’ll give you what you need.”
A knee is suddenly shoved forcibly between his legs, and there is now a thigh against Pete’s dick. It takes him less than a second to get to work, frantically seeking friction, humping the leg with abandon.
There is a harsh slap. Pete barely pauses, immediately turning his head back and, because he’s a good pet, he’s been trained, he knows what to do, thank his owner. “Thank you, owner,” he punches out between thrusts. His throat feels scraped raw and he hears his voice coming out as a croak, but doesn’t stop. “Thank you, thank you, owner, thank you,” he babbles, almost over the finish line.
Finally, he feels sharp pleasure burst throughout his whole body. The orgasm travels all the way from his stomach to his toes to his skull. He is vaguely aware that he is still sobbing out thanks in between breaths. It goes on for at least a minute; then his hips slowly come to a stop where they are still rubbing against his owner’s thigh.
Pete slowly opens his eyes - he had closed them somewhere along the line. They feel sticky with tears. He looks into the eyes of his owner, watching him with a predator’s gaze. Pete feels dry, wrung-out like an old rag. “Thank you, owner,” he rasps one last time. This earns him a smile, one without any malice or derision.
Tender hands run through Pete’s hair, over his stinging scalp. “Good boy.” Pete feels something warm explode inside him and he thinks he’s smiling back, but it’s hard to know because he’s not sure where his body ends or begins.
His owner cups his cheek and Pete nuzzles his hand. There’s a warm chuckle next to his ear. “Let’s get you to a bath.” His bonds are being unlocked and then Pete is carried out of the cell.
Later, after he’s been thoroughly washed and shampooed, they will continue. His owner will have to continue training his new pet, teach him basic manners and break in his other hole. Pete is looking forward to it.
But for now, he drifts and lets himself enjoy the comfort of Vegas’ strong arms around him.