Hurt Me Like You Mean It [BL]-Chapter 45: A little gift(2) R18

Lance positioned himself on the bed, the cool sheets against his bare skin.

The black silicone vibrator was heavy in one hand, the bottle of lube slick in the other.

He turned on the camera, the red recording light a tiny, accusing eye. He spread his legs, the vulnerability making his heart hammer against his ribs

He poured the lube, a thick, clear stream that was cold as it landed on his hole. He gasped, the sound sharp in the quiet room.

His fingers, slick and trembling, found the tight ring of muscle. One finger slid in, a slow, burning stretch that made his breath catch.

Fuck, that’s tight..

"Gotta open up for you, right?" he muttered to the empty room, his voice a husky whisper. He worked the first finger, then added a second, scissoring them, feeling the incredible, intimate give of his own body.

The lube made wet, squelching sounds that the microphone picked up. He added a third finger, panting now, his cock hard and leaking against his stomach.

Think about his face.

Think about him watching this.

The fourth finger was the real challenge.

He pushed, his other hand braced on the bed, his ass in the air for the camera. The stretch was immense, a blinding, full feeling that bordered on pain.

He held it, breathing through the burn, until his body finally relaxed and accepted it.

There.

He could fuck himself with his own hand now.

He was ready for the vibrator.

He pulled his fingers out, shiny and slick, holding them up to the camera.

"Look. All loose and wet for you. You did this. You made me this hungry."

He picked up the vibrator. His thumb found the button.

One press gave a low hum.

Two gave a stronger pulse.

He took a deep breath.

"Highest setting. Just like you ordered."

He pressed it a third time.

The familiar, powerful roar filled his hand. But then... nothing else happened.

It was just the same intense, steady buzz.

A flicker of disappointment crossed his face. He’d been half-expecting... he didn’t know what. Something more.

He guided the broad tip to his stretched entrance. "Here we go, you fucking control freak. Watch me take it."

He pushed.

The toy breached him, the vibration instantly lighting up his nerves. "Oh, god!" he cried out, sinking it deep until the base nestled against his swollen rim.

He arched his back, giving the camera a perfect view of his abdomen, the way his muscles tensed as he was filled. "It’s so fucking deep already. You like that? You like seeing how easy I am?"

He began to move, pulling the toy out slowly, then slamming it back in. The slap of silicone against his lubed ass was obscene. "Just your toy. Your fucking fleshlight. Say it."

He paused, his hips still, the vibrator buried to the hilt. He was panting. He waited, as if listening for a command.

Then, his eyes widened.

A new, deeper vibration shuddered through the toy. It wasn’t just a stronger buzz; it was a rhythmic pulse, a throbbing, internal clench that mimicked the muscle spasms of a real cock. It made his vision blur for a second.

"What the... fuck?" he gasped.

The pulse intensified, a hard, rhythmic thump-thump-thump deep inside his ass, perfectly synced to hammer against his prostate. It was relentless.

"Oh, Jesus Christ!" he shouted, his body bowing off the bed. "It’s... it’s fucking beating me! Inside! How is it... fuck!"

The hidden feature had activated.

It wasn’t just vibration anymore. It was a simulation, a brutal, perfect fucking rhythm he couldn’t control.

All he could do was take it.

He fell back onto his elbows, his legs splayed wide, surrendering to the machine. His hand fell away from the toy, letting it do its work, buried deep inside him. It pulsed and throbbed, a merciless, artificial fucking.

"Ansel!" he screamed, the name torn from his throat. "You set this up! You knew! You fucking knew!"

Tears sprang to his eyes, a mix of overwhelming sensation and the sheer psychological fuck of it.

Ansel had planned this. Ansel had given him a toy with a hidden feature.

He had almost forgotten Ansel ran a tech company, this may very be their latest project or his very own design.

"You bastard!" he sobbed, but his hips were grinding down onto it, meeting every throb. "You beautiful, controlling bastard! Look what you’re doing to me!"

He was babbling now, lost in the sensation. "My prostate... it’s getting pounded... I can’t... I can’t think!" The pulses came faster, a rapid, jackhammering rhythm that stole his breath.

Pre-cum dripped in a steady stream from his cock onto his stomach.

"I’m just a hole!" he cried out, the degradation spilling out freely. "A fucking warm, wet hole for your machine to wreck! Is that all I am? Tell me!"

He imagined Ansel’s voice, cold and approving.

Saying he was born for this.

"YES!" Lance shrieked, his body convulsing. "Born to be fucked! Born to get my guts rearranged by a piece of plastic! Look at me! Look at your slut!"

The pulses shifted again. Now they came in unpredictable waves, a hard series of thumps, a pause, then a long, deep, shuddering vibration that felt like it was shaking his soul loose.

It was maddening. He had no rhythm to follow, no way to brace himself.

"Stop! No, don’t stop! Fuck!" he begged the empty air, his fists clenching the sheets. "It’s too much! It’s too fucking good! I’m gonna lose my mind!"

His cock was throbbing in time with the internal assault, a deep, urgent ache building in his balls and spreading up through his belly. It was different from before.

It was Deeper and more desperate.

"Fuck I’m gonna squirt," he panted, his voice ragged with disbelief. "It’s gonna make me squirt. It’s gonna force it out of me. You’re gonna make me gush like a fucking fountain all over your camera."

The toy hit a particularly devastating pattern, three sharp pulses right on his prostate, followed by a deep, swirling vibration.

Lance’s eyes rolled back. A broken, wordless sound tore from his throat. His body locked up, back arched impossibly high.

It wasn’t an orgasm he chose. It was one that was ripped from him.

A torrent of clear fluid erupted from his cock, not in an arc, but in a sudden, continuous gush that soaked his chest, his stomach, the sheets beneath him. It kept coming, wave after wave, as the toy kept pulsing, milking him dry.

He screamed, a raw, shattered sound of absolute surrender, as he felt himself empty out, the squirting seeming to go on forever, leaving him trembling and drenched.

Finally, the tremors subsided. The toy was still on, still pulsing softly inside his thoroughly used hole.

He was a wreck—breathing in ragged sobs, covered in sweat and his own release, his body limp.

He stared at the camera lens, his expression utterly broken and blissful.

A weak, trembling hand reached down. His fingers found the button on the base of the vibrator. He pressed it once. The pulsing stopped, leaving only the high buzz. He pressed it again and it stopped completely.

He pulled the slick toy from his ass with a soft, wet pop. He held it up to the camera, his arm shaking.

He licked his lips, his voice a wrecked whisper. "There’s your video, Ansel. Hope you fucking enjoyed the show."