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Shiny - A Sequel

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Peter was extremely bored during the meeting. Sure, it was important, and he did enjoy some measure of political backstabbing, but he was just itching to get back to his boy.

Annoyingly enough, he could see on Talia’s face that she knew it too. It made her smug, knowing that her brother was finally an ‘honest man,’ at least as far as slaves were considered. And yeah, so what if he kept the kid for more than a year now? It didn’t mean he was settling down, just that this particular slave was a bit more enjoyable than the rest.

Maybe he was getting old.

Honestly, he didn’t anticipate the negotiations going on for so long, but of course, the Deucalion pack was anal about the borders - worse than Talia even, and that was saying something.

It took them almost four hours to finish.

Peter barely held himself back from skipping out on the polite goodbyes, and then he was off to find his little fuckdoll.




The playroom - that grew extensively in the last year - was still locked when he got there. No wonder, there weren’t people brave enough to go in there uninvited. Everything was exactly the way he left it, from the lights, to the boy strapped to the saddle of the fucking machine.

“Aw, look at the mess you’ve made,” Peter said, smiling. They’ve been working on losing that pesky bladder control, so maybe staying so long wasn’t all bad, considering the pool of stinky piss under Stiles.

The boy made a sound that was somewhere between a hickup and a whine, head lolling back. He was completely gone, just the way Peter wanted it.

The fucking machine was state of the art, built for his specifications. It not only rocked like a horse, the built in dildo was inflatable, and had a come tube attached. When Peter left, he set it so it would ‘orgasm’ every twenty minutes, shooting a nice big load into the boy’s hole, and then get a size bigger for the next round.

Of course, he didn’t expect to be gone for this long…

Stiles belly was bulging with the liquid - a nice mix of thick jelly and pepper extract that had to cause him quite a bit of pain.

Peter walked up to him, not turning the machine off right away.

“Had fun, darling?” he asked, petting the boy’s belly. Stiles balls were hanging to one side, their rigid stem of metal rings longer now, about three inches. He was starting to get used to it though, so Peter was already planning on adding one or two more. That was always fun.

Stiles didn’t reply, eyes glazed over, tongue hanging out of his mouth through the ring gag keeping it wide open and dripping drool all over his front.

“Come now, I bet you did,” he chided, turning up the speed a bit to see the way that slim body was thrown around on the saddle. Now that got the boy online, and he started moaning with a fresh track of tears on his face. That’s what he liked to see.

He patted Stiles’ belly, enjoying the firm feeling under his palm. Oh, that must be hurting. The piss on the saddle was mostly dried.

“I will take you off, but you have to wet yourself again,” he said, trying to sound soothing. They’ve got to the point where the slave appreciated any kindness, and Peter wasn’t above playing to that.

Stiles whined, choking on his saliva.

“It’s easy, darling. Just let go,” he said reasonably. He really couldn’t understand what was so hard about this. The boy should know by now that his bodily functions were not his to control.

Stiles blinked, a couple of big, fat tears rolling down his face.

Maybe he was trying to say something - Peter wasn’t sure - but a few second later his nose was filled with the salty smell of fresh urine.

He stepped away real quick, it wouldn’t have made sense to ruin a perfectly nice suit.

“That’s it!” he said, grinning. He liked when the boy complied. Almost as much as when he didn’t.

“Keep going, I will just change into something more comfortable,” he said, making sure to turn the machine to the highest setting before he left.

Maybe it was cruel, but he did like to hear the boy sob.




He didn’t take long - half an hour at max - and then did as he said, untying the boy and taking him off. It was a good thing he was naked, because as soon as he was off the dildo, all the gooey mess rushed out of him, splattering to the floor. Peter clicked his tongue in annoyance. That will be nasty to clean up, it was a good thing he wouldn’t be the one to do it.

He carried Stiles to his bedroom, already planning on what to do next. So many possibilities, so little time.

In the end, he decided to go with the well travelled road, arranging the boy on the bed on his belly with only a bolster pillow under his hips to hold him up. He couldn’t really expect him to keep his own weight right now.

Damn, Stiles’ hole was a mess. By the time he took him off, the dildo had been enormous, leaving his ass gaping and reddened. His favorite.

“You look lovely, darling,” he said, for once meaning the compliment. He took the gag out of the boy’s mouth. There were other lessons that still needed to be taught.

They did this enough times for Stiles to know exactly what was coming.

“What do you say, baby?” he asked sweetly, kneeling between the boy’s parted legs.

Stiles was silent for a second, the room only filled with his panting and the rapid beat of his heart.

Peter slapped his ass hard enough for the imprint of his hand to stay.

“Ah… Uh… I.”

Peter slapped him again, harder this time, the crack of it echoing like thunder.

“I asked you something, I expect a reply.”

“P-please… Please Alpha, fist my dirty f-fuck hole…” Stiles said, barely audible over his choked sobs. But it was good enough for now.

“Hm… Well, if you ask me so nicely, I can’t refuse,” he said. It was a good thing he used the jelly to fill him, because he was already sloppy and slick.

Putting his fist into that loose, used hole was almost easy.

Stiles’ breath hitched, but he didn’t move. Good boy.

Peter pushed a bit deeper, and then pulled back all the way, building up a rhythm, until he was fucking the boy with his hand good and fast. The sound of his fist popping in and out of that gaping ass was obscene.

“You like it, sweetheart?” he asked, a part of him hoping that the boy would mess up, just so he could punish him. It was a win-win situation as far as he was considered.

“... ah, I… I love. I l-love it when you p-punch my nasty asshole.”

“That, you do,” Peter told him, still satisfied with the outcome. It was time to take it up a notch.

“Would you like me to go deeper, darling?”

Stiles started crying beautifully. He knew that saying no would result in punishment, though from his point of view, saying yes wasn’t much better either.

“Ple… please… Please fuck me deeper,” he stuttered out finally between sobs.

Peter was happy to oblige.

“As you wish… show me how that hungry hole can swallow up my arm.”

He shifted, trying to get a better angle and then started pushing. His hand slid up easily to about half-way, but he found some resistance at the point where his forearm was the thickest.

“Relax, baby. Let me in. You know I will do it anyway,” he said reasonably, rolling his eyes as the crying got louder. For some reason Stiles didn’t like it when they did this.

He grabbed the boy’s balls with his free hand and tugged, getting a scream for his trouble. Thankfully it was enough of a distraction that he could jam his arm into the elbow. Stiles’ noises cut of, replaced by a high whine.

Peter smiled. He knew that sound. All he needed was push a little more and they would be good.

He did just that, pulling back to his wrist and then pushing in again, back to the elbow. He could feel the way Stiles’ belly distorted by the huge intrusion. The boy took a hiccupping breath, then another and then… Giggled.

Oh, that was what he wanted to hear.

Peter did it again, starting to fuck him real nice with his whole arm. Stiles giggled again, the sound wet and crazed. It was always a pleasure when he could push him completely over the edge.

“Ha… ha ha… more?”

“Of course,” he said, feeling indulgent, speeding up his thrusts. Stiles’ body was twitching uncontrollably, face a mess of tears and snot. He looked amazing, if Peter said so himself.

There was a small wet-patch where his caged little cocklet touched the covers. It might have been precome or piss - it didn’t really matter.

One of these days, Peter would manage to get him to stay like this. Maybe not today, but if he was one thing, it was persistent .