snippet of a fic i was working on for mean dom ilya week but abandoned for some reason. cnc giant dildo painal w/ belly bulge :-)
Ilya clicks his phone off and sets it on the nightstand. âYour dick is hard,â he says, like heâs just now noticing, and flicks it. The glance of his nail makes Shane whimper. âFunny how often this happens when you tell me to stop.â
Shane wants to argue, but he canât. A small, mangled sound comes from his throat.
âMaybe you canât tell the difference,â Ilya muses. His nail returns to drag up Shaneâs dick from the root, light enough not to hurt until it meets the head. âWe barely use this thing. Maybe you canât even feel it anymore.â As if to test this theory, he digs in harder.
Shane might crack his teeth if he clenches them any harder but at least he succeeds in not opening his mouth to let any sound escape.Â
âPathetic little dick,â Ilya says, and flicks it one more time for good measure.
Itâs not, Shane wants to insist. Itâs not little at all and if itâs pathetic itâs only because Ilya has him so broken he doesnât need to use it to cum anymore. And thatâs not his fault. Ilya should like it; he made him this way.
Ilya holds his hand out and Shane gives him the dildo wordlessly. But he makes no move to put it away â his hand starts to travel back down again.
âYou said we were done,â Shane says.
Ilya rolls his eyes. âYes, well.â
He moves his wrist and then the dildo is parallel to Shane's dick, positioned so the deepest part of its curve meets the bottom of his stomach and its head pierces the air. The base brushes his balls. The head â Shane has to crane his neck to make sure heâs seeing this correctly â would meet his belly button, if it were flat.Â
Shane looks up at Ilya with wide, wide eyes.
Ilya gives him a grin and shrugs. âI was curious.â
âIlya,â Shane says. His throat constricts around it, makes it come out funny. âI get it. Itâs fuckingâitâs bigger than my dick. Okay. Can you please put it away now?â
âAnything is bigger than your dick,â Ilya replies, leaving the dildo to lie there on Shane's stomach while he turns to rummage through the nightstand. A bottle of lube emerges in his hand a moment later.
Itâs like watching him pick up a scalpel. Shane would probably be less scared if he had.Â
âItâs too big,â Shane tries. Not his first time using that line, but the first time he really believes it.
âYou like big,â Ilya says simply.Â
âIlyaâplease, Iâm serious. You know I canât.âÂ
âShut up,â Ilya says, and finally moves the dildo, though only to set it next to Shaneâs hip. âOpen your legs.â
Shane slides his soles over the mattress until his thighs are spread. âIâll be good,â he offers, voice trembling. âSo good, Ilya, Iâll do anything else, justââ
A hard smack to his inner thigh interrupts him. He shrieks and almost clamps his legs shut before he remembers where he is.
Another slap lands on each thigh, even harder this time, and Ilya lets the sensation linger for only a second before pressing two dry fingers to Shaneâs hole.
âStupid fucking whore,â he says under his breath.
Ilyaâs fingers press harder. Thereâs not a lot of give. Itâs too dry, too thick, too everything. Ilya keeps increasing the pressure anyway.Â
âDoes it hurt?â he asks, still watching Shaneâs hole instead of his face. He doesnât sound especially interested in getting an answer.
It does, but Shaneâs taken much worse. He says nothing.Â
When the moment to respond has passed Ilya goes still and pulls away to grab the lube. Wait, we can do the fingers again, we can do anything else, he thinks, not that Ilya would care, not that Ilya would want to.Â
âIâm scared,â Shane says instead. He may as well bare his neck, say you can bite here and be done with it. It doesnât matter anyway. Thereâs no response but the click of a plastic cap opening.
The first finger is always easy for him; no fun there. It probes him for only a second before another pushes in.Â
Shaneâs spine goes rigid. His pulse hammers. âI could suck on it.â (Although, having gotten a better look at it, heâs really not sure that he could.)
A third finger. It burns. Ilyaâs not trying to make Shane feel good, and probably doesnât even want him to. He still does, but only because heâs a broken little thing.
Shane tries to think of anything else he can offer, anything at all â please donât break me, please donât ruin me. He comes up empty.Â
âOpen up for me,â Ilya says, annoyance bleeding into his tone so it sounds more like heâs talking to a defective product than a lover. His fingers spread as wide as they can inside Shane, and he keeps them that way as he pulls them out, tugging horribly on Shaneâs rim.Â
Shane heaves. He sounds ugly. âYouâre hurting me. Youâre gonna hurt me,â he pleads, crying now. âYou wonât be able to fuck me if I get torn, Ilya. Please.âÂ
Ilya pushes four fingers into him. The only way Shane can convince himself he isnât torn wide open yet is that heâs pretty sure that his fiancĂ© wouldnât do that to him.
âHave you ever considered,â Ilya says â his breathing labored, which can only mean heâs getting off on this even more than usual, because itâs stunning how little physical exertion it requires of him to ruin Shane forever â âthat I like hurting you more than I like to fuck you?â
Shane doesnât even have the chance to gasp at that because Ilyaâs fingers curl together to drag across his prostate so hard he pisses a little onto his stomach and groans, his body contorting.
Ilya looks away and curls his lip in a show of disgust, like he canât even stand to look at Shane while he does this to him. âLook at you. You think this is what I want to fuck?â
âNo,â Shane says. He really doesnât think that, not right now. He takes a trembling breath. âNo, and Iâm really really sorry, I fucking swear.âÂ
âSorry for what?â Ilya pulls his fingers out and all the air leaves Shaneâs lungs.Â
âOh my godâplease, Ilya, please, I donât know,â Shane warbles, watching Ilya pick up the toy again. âIâm sorry forâfor asking you to fuck me, and that I was being rude, and Iâll be so good, I promise. Just please donât.â
âYou will be good by taking what I give you,â Ilya says, matter-of-fact, and starts to pour lube onto the dildo.
âFuck,â Shane whispers. His head swims, and he canât, he canât look anymore. He lets his head fall back onto the pillow. âFuck. Oh my god.âÂ
The head presses against his hole.
âWow,â Ilya says. He doesnât sound bored anymore. âThis will really fuck you up.âÂ
Shaneâs cock twitches weakly. âPlease,â he breathes, but itâs so quiet that Ilya probably doesnât even have to ignore him not to hear it. Either way â he pushes the toy forward.
Thereâs almost no give at first. Shane can feel the movement shift to rough corkscrew motions, like Ilya is trying to drill him open. The head feels impossibly big. Thereâs no way, Shane thinks, that itâs really going to go in. He almost finds comfort in that for a second until Ilya starts to apply more pressure.
The tip slips in and Shane goes taut, his body trying to reject the impossible intrusion.Â
âI am not going to stop, so you better fucking relax,â Ilya says.Â
Shane tries. It must work. The tip digs in deeper, and the stretch goes from aching to unbearable in a split second.Â
âWait, please, holy fuck,â Shane begs. His fingers dig into the sheets and twist helplessly. Sweat trickles down his neck.
âFuck,â Ilya says, voice strained as if itâs his own dick splitting Shane open, and pushes again with a twist of his wrist.
An inch or two more goes in and it burns like nothing Shane has ever felt before, not their first time when Ilya opened him up so carefully and not even when they spent an hour getting Shane loose enough to take Ilya's fist. Ilya doesnât let up, doesnât give him a chance to breathe, just keeps pushing, twisting the toy until its head is pointed upwards and then letting it go straight in.Â
Ilya pauses, finally, then pulls back a bit, and Shane feels the rim of his hole tug outward. Itâs worse than when it pushes in. âThere,â Ilya says. âThe head is in.â
He tugs again, harder, until Shane finds his breath and sobs. âHow does it feel, Shane?â
âHurts,â Shane moans, the syllable cracking in two. âOh god. Please.â
âFuck,â Ilya says. He starts to push in again, which almost feels merciful now. âYour hole is so red,â he tells Shane, tracing a finger over it with his free hand so the skin there burns even more. (Shane tells himself if there were as much blood as he's imagining Ilya would stop, would have to stop.) âMaybe you will only be able to take toys like this after, hm? Everything else will be too small, slip right out.âÂ
Shane canât speak so he shakes his head: no no no. It doesnât matter. All that matters is that Ilya keeps forcing it inside, that just from the position of Ilyaâs arm Shane can tell heâs only taken a fraction of the length.
Then the head starts to drag over his prostate, and he loses control of his body entirely.Â
Piss spurts over his stomach immediately, and he arches his back and writhes so violently that it floods down his thigh and over his sides. His knuckles go white where heâs still clutching the sheets. Ilya says something, but he canât hear it.Â
Shane stays suspended in that state for he doesnât know how long. He feels aware only of the burning pain, the horrible pressure dragging endlessly against his prostate, and the way he pisses on himself in short, hard bursts until heâs empty and his cock can do nothing but drip and jerk helplessly against his abs.
His head swims. It takes him a while to come back to awareness, to feel how rigidly heâs contorted himself, to notice that Ilya is speaking again.Â
âFuck, Hollander,â he hears.
He makes a noise that resembles Ilyaâs name.Â
âIs almost all the way in,â Ilya tells him. âI knew you would take it.â
âNo,â Shane gasps. He starts to push up onto his elbows, and his arms feel weak and wobbly but he forgets about it immediately when he sees what Ilya is looking at. His stomach â
âOh god,â Shane says, collapsing onto his back again.Â
Ilya laughs. âCan you feel it?âÂ
A hand encircles one of Shaneâs and drags it up his side, through the remnants of piss covering his skin, to land on his lower stomach. And yes, Shane can feel it: thereâs a bulge protruding through the skin there. Ilya has forced the dildo so far up into him that heâs speared on it. Shane imagines what must be happening inside of him to make any of this physically possible and starts to feel like the room is spinning.Â
âTake it out,â he says. His voice sounds very small.Â
âLike it would make a difference now,â Ilya says. "Your hole is ruined."