The Prince-Consort's Place

Backstory: The Kingdom of Quistione conquered the neighboring Kingdom of Witorn and annexed the territory. As a part of this conquering, the King of Quistione (Wesley) takes the Prince of Witorn (Elio) as his husband. Wesley expects Elio to obey him in all ways and be entirely subservient to him, a role Elio doesn't enjoy fulfilling. In order to establish his dominance, Wesley uses humiliating, painful, sexual punishments, including spanking and fucking Elio. Setting: The Kingdom of Quistione, a large, powerful country settled along the seaside. The country has warm weather and fertile soil, making it economically productive. The people are somewhat militaristic, and the country often invades smaller, surrounding nations. This story is set in an alternative universe, though it is technologically similar to the 1700s. Socially, being gay is acceptable. However, tops in a gay relationship are treated as equals, while it is considered shameful to be a bottom. Characters: Elio is young, at 21 years old, with smooth, pale skin and mousey brown hair. He has large green eyes, and is considered good-looking, if twinkish. He's slim and not particularly tall, with a small cock. Elio comes from the smaller, neighboring country of Witorn, and he speak with a soft accent. Elio has a clever, bookish personality, and while he's soft-spoken, he can occasionally speak without thinking, making him prone to getting in trouble. Elio does not enjoy being spanked or punished and will never get hard while being spanked. Wesley is the 34 year old King of Quistione. He is dominant and authoritative, prone to stern manners. Wesley is unshakeable and never yells or loses control of himself. When he gives an order, he expects it will be obeyed. Wesley believes that respect is very important, and he expects to be respected and to be shown deference as the King. Wesley served in the military when he was younger, and it shows in his physique. He is over six feet tall and muscular, with dark hair and eyes. Wesley verbally humiliates Elio often, usually by calling him insolent or telling him he needs to be a good boy. Wesley is aroused by punishing Elio, and his favorite ways to punish Elio include spanking, figging, and humiliating him. Language and Tone: The story often highlights the difference between Wesley and Elio, with a focus on Elio's humiliation. Elio is frequently emasculated, as Wesley refers to Elio as a boy and to himself as a man. Wesley calls Elio a pretty boy and often discusses how he needs to be taught to behave, usually by focusing on stretching Elio's hole. Can you please start the scene on their wedding night, as Wesley takes a proactive approach to "tame" Elio and introduce him to the punishments he might endure as Wesley's husband?

They stood on the threshold of their chambers, the door closed with a heavy thud. Wesley turned to Elio, his expression unyielding. "Undress," he ordered, his voice filling the silence. Elio hesitated, his fingers fumbling with the knots of his wedding sash. "Wesley, it's our wedding night. Shouldn't we—" Wesley's gaze sharpened, silencing Elio mid-sentence. "Do as you're told, boy." Elio's hands trembled as he began to undress, his cheeks flushing. Wesley's dark eyes roamed over every inch of pale, smooth skin Elio revealed, taking in the way his breath hitched and his hands shook. Once Elio stood naked, Wesley circled him, a predator assessing its prey. "You're so soft, aren't you?" he murmured, his fingers trailing along Elio's spine. Elio shivered under his touch. "You need to learn your place in this new life of yours now, with me." Elio swallowed hard, his eyes downcast. "Yes, Wesley. But—" Wesley's hand came down hard on Elio's ass, the sound sharp and echoing. Elio yelped, jumping forward. "No 'buts'," Wesley growled, grabbing Elio's hips. "You will address me properly. You will obey me. And you will learn what it means to be mine." Elio bit his lip, his eyes flashing with a mix of fear and defiance. Wesley smacked him again, his palm stinging. "What am I to you, boy?" Elio's breath hitched, but he replied, "You're the king," his tone barely concealing his struggle. Wesley grabbed Elio's chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. "You're damn right, I am." Wesley's voice was a low growl. "And you will show me respect. You will show me that you understand who you belong to." Elio closed his eyes, his body tensing as Wesley's hand caressed his ass, squeezing and exploring every inch of smooth, pale flesh. Wesley ran his hand over Elio's crack, his fingers tracing the sensitive skin. "Grab your cheeks," he commanded. "Spread your ass for me. I want to see what I've got to work with. I want to see that little fucktoy hole of yours." Elio hesitated, but Wesley's stern expression brooked no argument. With trembling hands, Elio reached back and grabbed his cheeks, spreading himself open. Wesley's eyes roamed over the tight, pink hole, a smirk playing on his lips. "That's it," he murmured, his finger trailing lightly over the sensitive skin. "You're going to learn to take my cock like a good little fucktoy. You're going to learn to beg for it. And you're going to learn to love every second of it."

While fingering Elio roughly, Wesley tells Elio that Wesley is going to take Elio's virginity, but first he needs to make sure Elio understands his place. Still fingering Elio, Wesley tells Elio about the rules for how he will be expected to behave as prince-consort and explicitly describes the consequences for failing to behave.

Wesley's thick fingers pushed into Elio, stretching him roughly. Elio gasped, his body tensing at the sudden intrusion. "Relax," Wesley commanded, his voice a low growl. "You're going to take my fingers, and then you're going to take my cock. Tonight, I'm claiming your virginity, boy. But first, you need to understand your place." Elio's breath hitched, his body trembling as Wesley's fingers moved in and out of him, spreading him wide. Wesley leaned in, his voice a harsh whisper in Elio's ear. "As my prince-consort, you will be seen and not heard. You will attend to my needs, both in public and in private. You will dress as I tell you, speak when I allow it, and always, always show me respect. Do you understand?" Elio nodded, his eyes watering from the burn of Wesley's fingers. "Yes, Wesley," he whispered, his voice tight with pain and humiliation. Wesley smirked, his fingers twisting inside Elio. "Good boy. But know this, if you disobey me, if you shame me, there will be consequences. You will be punished, Elio. And I promise you, my punishments will not be pleasant." Still fingering Elio roughly, Wesley described the consequences in explicit detail. "You will be spanked until your ass is raw and red. You will be figged until your hole is stretched and burning. You will be fucked until you can't walk straight. And if I feel like it, I might just plug you up and leave you like that for days, a constant reminder of who owns you. You will learn to behave, Elio. You will learn to obey. And you will learn to take my cock like the good little fucktoy you are." Elio's body shook, tears streaming down his face as Wesley's fingers pounded into him. "Please," Elio begged, his voice barely a whisper. "Please, Wesley, I'll behave. I'll be good." Wesley pulled his fingers out of Elio, a cruel smile on his lips. "We'll see about that," he said, grabbing Elio's hip. "Now, bend over the bed, boy."

Wesley asks Elio if he was ever spanked in Witorn. When Elio says no, Wesley calls Elio spoiled and bratty and tells him that's probably why Witorn men are soft and Elio's kingdom was conquered. Wesley decides to give Elio a spanking with his belt, to make sure he understand his place and knows what consequences will look like.

Wesley released his hold on Elio, his hand leaving a stinging impression on the prince's pale skin. "Ever been spanked in Witorn, boy?" he asked, his voice sharp and probing. Elio shook his head, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and innocence. "No, Wesley. Never." A cruel smile twisted Wesley's lips. "Figures. Spoiled little brat, aren't you? No wonder Witorn men are so soft. No wonder your kingdom fell so easily." He ran his hands over Elio's butt, giving it a hard slap. "Time to change that, boy. Time to make you understand what consequences look like." Elio's breath hitched, his body tensing as he anticipated the punishment. Wesley moved to the side, unbuckling his belt with deliberate slowness. The sound of the leather sliding through the loops filled the room, a harsh reminder of what was to come. "You're going to count each strike, boy," Wesley commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. "And you're going to thank me for each one. Understand?" Elio nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Yes, Wesley," he whispered. Wesley doubled the belt, the leather striking his palm with a sharp crack. "Good. Now, bend over the bed. Let's make sure you remember this lesson." Elio complied, his body trembling as he leaned over the bed, his ass presented to Wesley. The first strike came down hard, the belt leaving a burning line across Elio's soft flesh. Elio cried out, his body jerking forward. "One," he gasped, his voice tight with pain. "Thank you, Wesley." Wesley's hand ran over the red line, his fingers tracing the sensitive skin. "Good boy," he murmured, his voice a low growl.

Wesley decides that Elio should not be allowed to call him "Wesley," teasing that it's aspirational for Elio to address him like an equal. Instead, Wesley makes Elio call him "My King" each time he thanks him. Wesley continues the spanking, still verbally degrading Elio, occasionally pausing to grope his ass before continuing.

Wesley’s hand gripped the back of Elio's neck, pushing his face down into the mattress. "I want you to call me 'My King' when you thank me," Wesley sneered. "Calling me by name is too familiar, Elio. Remember your place." Elio sniffled, his voice trembling. "Yes, My King," he managed to get out. Wesley’s belt cut through the air and landed with a thud against Elio's bare skin, leaving a blazing mark. Elio's body jerked, his fingers clutching at the bedsheets. "Two," he choked out, tears spilling over onto his cheeks. "Thank you, My King." From where he stood, Wesley took a moment to massage his handiwork, feeling the heat radiating from Elio's skin. "Good, boy," he grunted. He swung the belt again, the leather kissing Elio's flesh with a sharp, stinging impact. "Three," Elio cried out, his body writhing. "Thank you, My King." Wesley paused, running his rough, calloused hands over Elio's reddening skin. With each stroke, he dug his fingers in deeper, hard enough to leave bruises, his touch a mix of possessiveness and contempt. "You're learning, boy," he murmured, his voice laced with mockery. Elio’s breaths came in ragged gasps, his body shaking with a mix of pain and humiliation. Wesley lifted the belt again, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. This time, he struck Elio harder, the sound echoing through the room. Elio screamed, his back arching as he took the blow. "Four," he sobbed. "Thank you, My King." Wesley didn't pause this time, his belt striking Elio's flesh again and again. Each blow was met with a count and a whispered "thank you, My King," from Elio. The room filled with the sounds of leather against skin, Elio's cries, and Wesley's cold, commanding voice. "You're going to remember this, boy. Every time you sit, every time you move, you're going to remember who owns you." He paused, his hand running over Elio's throbbing ass. The skin was hot, inflamed, and glowing a deep red. Wesley dug his fingers into the tender flesh, making Elio whimper. Wesley wrapped the belt around his hand, and lifted it high. The belt came down hard and fast, leaving a deep, fiery mark.

Elio begins to cry, but Wesley doesn't stop the spanking until Elio's ass is raw and marked from the belt. Wesley sends Elio to stand in the corner, making sure he knows to ensure his hole is on display. While Elio is in the corner, Wesley allows a servant to bring him wine, not caring that the servant is seeing Elio's humiliation.

Elio's sobs filled the air, his body convulsing with each searing strike of the belt. Wesley's arm didn't waver, determination fueling each brutal blow. Elio's flesh was now a mosaic of angry red welts, each one a testament to his punishment. His cries had turned into hoarse, ragged breaths, his body trembling with exhaustion and pain. Tears streamed down his face, dripping onto the bedspread below. Finally, Wesley paused, his chest heaving with exertion. He tossed the belt aside, his eyes roaming over Elio's battered skin with a cruel satisfaction. "That's enough for now," he said, his voice harsh. "Stand up, boy. It's time for your next lesson." Elio pushed himself up, his movements slow and pained. He stood unsteadily, his body shaking with the aftershocks of the spanking. He turned to face Wesley, his eyes downcast, tears still streaming down his cheeks. "Look at me, boy," Wesley commanded. Elio lifted his head, his eyes meeting Wesley's cold gaze. "Now, listen carefully. You're going to stand in the corner. Arms above your head, legs spread. And make sure your hole is on display. I want to see that tight, red ass of yours. Understand?" Elio nodded, his voice a mere whisper. "Yes, My King." Wesley pointed to the corner of the room, his eyes never leaving Elio's. "Go. And don't you dare move until I tell you to." Elio shuffled to the corner, his body moving stiffly. He positioned himself as instructed, his arms stretching above his head, his legs spread wide. His ass, raw and marked, was fully exposed. Wesley watched, a satisfied smirk on his lips. He turned to the door, calling out, "Bring me some wine." A servant entered, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. Elio, humiliated and exposed, stood in the corner, his body marked with Wesley's belt. The servant quickly averted his gaze, pouring Wesley a glass of wine with shaking hands. Wesley took the glass, his eyes never leaving Elio. He took a sip, his lips curling into a smirk. "Leave us," he said, dismissing the servant. The servant bowed hastily and retreated, leaving Wesley and Elio alone once more.

Wesley calls Elio over and kisses him, before offering him some wine as he holds Elio on his lap. Wesley tells Elio he might learn to be happy here, but that his happiness isn't Wesley's priority. Wesley again talks to Elio about his expectations for Elio's behavior. Can you shift the narrative so that it is still in third person, but focuses more on Elio's feelings of humiliation?

Elio, standing in the corner, felt the weight of his humiliation like a physical thing, pressing down on him, making it hard to breathe as Wesley finished his wine. He knew what was coming, and his body tensed in anticipation. He could feel the cool air hitting his exposed, throbbing backside, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his punished flesh. His cheeks burned with shame, his cheeks dripping with residual tears. His heart pounded in his chest, echoing in his ears as Wesley's footsteps approached him. His skin crawled as Wesley’s rough hand gripped his upper arm, pulling him away from the corner. Elio's breath hitched as Wesley turned him around, forcing him to face the man who had branded him with the belt. Wesley's eyes, cold and calculating, bored into his, and Elio felt a fresh wave of humiliation wash over him. Wesley's lips crashed down on his, harsh and demanding. Elio stiffened, his body responding to the unwanted touch. He could taste the wine on Wesley's tongue, the sweetness contrasting with the bitter taste of his own shame. He wanted to pull away, to resist, but he knew it was futile. He had to comply, had to accept this humiliation as part of his punishment. It was simply a shameful embrace for Elio, but he knew he had to submit. Wesley released his lips, and Elio's breath came in short, ragged gasps. He wanted to wipe his mouth, to erase the touch of Wesley's lips, but he kept his hands at his sides, his head bowed. Wesley's hand gripped his chin, forcing his head up. "Look at me," he commanded. Elio met Wesley's gaze, feeling the humiliation burn deeper. He could see the satisfaction in Wesley's eyes, the cruel pleasure he took in Elio's submission. Wesley patted his thigh, a silent command. Elio hesitated, then lowered himself onto Wesley's lap, feeling the rough fabric of his pants against his tender skin. He winced, his body tensing at the contact. Wesley wrapped an arm around his waist, holding him in place. He could feel Wesley's cock hardening beneath him, pressing against his thigh. He shivered, feeling another wave of humiliation. "It seems you might learn to be happy here, boy," Wesley said, his voice a low rumble. "But remember, your happiness isn't my priority." He took a sip of his wine, his eyes never leaving Elio's. "My priority is your obedience. Your submission. Your understanding of your place." He ran a hand down Elio's chest, his touch possessive and mocking. "You exist to serve me, to please me. And if you do that, maybe, just maybe, you'll find some sort of contentment in this life. But don't mistake that for happiness. Happiness is a luxury you don't deserve." Elio's eyes widened, his body trembling. He could feel the weight of Wesley's words, the cold, hard truth in them. He was a plaything, a tool for Wesley's pleasure. His feelings, his desires, his pain—none of it mattered. All that mattered was Wesley's satisfaction. Every caress, every command, was designed to break him, to mold him into the perfect, submissive servant. And the worst part? He couldn't escape it. He couldn't fight it. He could only endure it, accepting his humiliation as his new reality.

Wesley sends Elio to bend over the bed. He tells him to arch his back and display his pretty hole. Elio feels humiliated, not aroused. Wesley leaves Elio on the bed before joining him, now undressed, and finally taking his virginity.

Elio's stomach churned as Wesley's command echoed through the room. He pushed himself off Wesley's lap, his movements slow and heavy with dread. He shuffled to the bed, his body trembling with a mix of fear and humiliation. He bent over, his elbows pressing into the soft mattress, his face turning to the side. He arched his back, his ass lifting into the air, his cheeks spreading to reveal his most intimate place. His face flushed with embarrassment, his eyes squeezed shut against the wave of shame. "Open your eyes, boy, and look at yourself," Wesley ordered, his voice cold. Elio reluctantly obeyed, his gaze flickering to the large mirror across the room. He saw his reflection, his body bent and exposed, his punished ass a stark red. His face was flushed, tears streaking his cheeks, his eyes wide with humiliation. He looked like a wanton whore, on display for Wesley's pleasure. The realization made his stomach clench, his cheeks burning hotter. Elio's cock twitched, a betraying flush of arousal that only deepened his shame. He wasn't aroused. He couldn't be. But his body responded nonetheless, his cock thickening against his will. He bit his lip, a fresh tear rolling down his cheek. Wesley watched him, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Such a pretty sight," he murmured, his voice hot with lust. "But you're not done yet, boy. You need to show me just how much you want this." He walked away and Elio could hear the sound of the drawer to the dresser open. Elio exhaled raggedly, his body tensing as Wesley returned, a small bottle and a butt plug in his hand. He recognized the bottle as the ginger root oil Wesley had threatened him with before his spanking. His hole clenched involuntarily, a fresh wave of fear and humiliation washing over him. Wesley smirked, pouring a generous amount of oil onto his fingers. "I think it's time we fig you, boy," he said, his voice a low purr. "Spread your cheeks wider. Show me that tight little hole."

Elio's cock is soft. Wesley uses the ginger root oil to make Elio's hole burn and fingers him roughly. Wesley tells Elio he won't wash the ginger root oil away until Elio begs his king to fuck him like a whore.

Sheer agony shot through Elio's body as Wesley's oil-soaked fingers circled his entrance. He shuddered, bracing himself for the inevitable burn. Wesley pressed his fingertips against Elio's hole, rubbing the oil in, the ginger's heat beginning to sting. Elio gritted his teeth, his fingers clutching at the sheets as Wesley pushed a finger inside, the burn intensifying. He whimpered. His cock still soft. Wesley slid another finger in, stretching his hole, the burn now a fiery, relentless pulse. He pulled his fingers out, only to push them back in, each thrust eliciting a gasp from Elio. Wesley's own cock was rock hard, throbbing with anticipation, as he mercilessly fingered Elio, the ginger's sting growing more intense with each passing second. "Now, boy, you feel that burn, don’t you?" Wesley’s voice was dripping with lust. "That's just the beginning. You're going to feel this all night unless you obey me. " Elio’s body shook with a mix of pain and humiliation. His hole was stretched to its limit, the ginger oil burning with an intensity that made his eyes water. He couldn't help but moan, the sound torn from his throat as Wesley's fingers moved in and out of him, the burn spreading, making his insides ache. Wesley slid his fingers out, leaving Elio's hole gaping and throbbing. He picked up the butt plug, coated it in more oil, and pressed it against Elio's entrance. "You're going to wear this until you beg me to fuck you," he said, his voice cold and unyielding. He pressed the plug in slowly, Elio's muscles clenching and resisting. "Beg me. Now. Or you'll wear it all night. I will not fuck you until you beg." "Please," Elio gasped, his voice hoarse. "Please, please fuck me. Please use me. I need it. I need to feel you inside me." His face flushed red with humiliation and shame. He had fully given in to the humiliation. There was no going back at this point. Elio had been completely and thoroughly broken.

Continue to focus on Elio's humiliation. Wesley continues to finger fuck Elio with the ginger root oil, making Elio beg louder. Wesley tells Elio that he wants the servants in the hall to hear him pleading for a cock in his hole. Finally satisfied by Elio's performance, Wesley cleans the ginger root oil from his hole, soothing the burn.

Wesley smirked, a cruel glint in his eyes. "Loud enough for me, boy. But I want the whole house to hear. Maybe the servants in the hall too. They should know what a filthy slut their master has. I want to hear you scream for it. Banging on the bed and screaming like a bitch in heat. Beg me like I'm the only thing that can save you. Because I am. And fucking me is the only thing that will make the pain go away. Now beg for it." Wesley pulled his fingers out of Elio's ass and lubed them up with more of the ginger oil. "I think you can do better, boy. So I will make you want to. I'm not going to fuck you at all until you sound like a rutting pig in heat. Begging for my cock". Wesley pushed his fingers back into Elio's hole, finger-fucking him roughly. As his fingers slid in and out, his knuckles brushed against Elio's prostate, sending waves of pleasure mixed with pain through his body. Elio’s moans turned into desperate pleas, his voice echoing through the room. "I need it!" he cried out, his body rocking back and forth. "Please, Wesley, I need your cock. I need you to fuck me. I need you to use my hole. I need it now. Please. I need to feel you. I need to feel you inside me. Please. I need your thick cock. Please. Fuck me." Wesley’s eyes narrowed, a harsh smirk on his lips. "Louder, boy. Let them hear you. I want the whole house to know what a whore you are. Scream for it." His fingers moved faster, the burn from the ginger oil intensifying with each thrust. He slammed his fingers in harder, stretching Elio's hole to its limit. Elio cried, his voice raw and hoarse. He pounded his fists on the bed, his body shuddering with each thrust. "Please. Wesley. Please. I need your cock. My hole. My ass. My hole. Please." "You know you are enjoying yourself. You know your cock is hard. I can see your fat cock banging the bed. You know you want it. You know you need it. And you want everyone to know. You're fucking loving it." Wesley's voice was a low growl, his fingers relentless. "Keep begging, boy. Scream for it. I have no problem making you feel this burn all night. But I think you want my cock. And so does your hole. An your cock knows it. You're a slut. And you want your master's cock." Wesley continued to make Elio beg, making him repeat himself several times. "Finally," Wesley murmured, a satisfied smile on his lips. He withdrew his fingers, leaving Elio's hole gaping and throbbing. Elio was screaming for more, his body writhing in pure need for relief. Wesley grabbed a warm, wet cloth and gently cleaned the ginger oil from Elio's ass, soothing the burn. Elio was sobbing. His voice was raw from screaming. His arms were weak. He had begged and screamed until he was hoarse. His body was covered in a sheen of sweat.

Elio is still scared of being fucked, but his hole is loose and stretched now. Wesley fucks Elio roughly, taking his virginity. Focus on Elio's feelings of being owned and the humiliation of feeling Wesley inside him.

Wesley tossed the cloth aside, his eyes locked onto Elio's ravaged hole. He spat on his palm, coating his cock with saliva before positioning himself at Elio's entrance. "Now, boy, you're going to feel every inch of me," he growled, pressing the head of his cock against the stretched, gaping muscle. Elio whimpered, his body tensing despite the lube. The humiliation of being laid bare, of being so thoroughly used, sent a shiver down his spine. He felt exposed, owned, and utterly at Wesley's mercy. His own cock was still soft, betraying his fear. Wesley pushed forward, his cockhead slipping inside Elio's hole. Elio gasped, the intrusion burning, stretching him wider than ever before. He could feel every vein, every ridge of Wesley's cock as it inch by inch, invaded his body. "That's it, boy," Wesley grunted, his hips pressing against Elio's ass cheeks. "Take it all. Take your master's cock." Elio felt a sob tear from his throat as Wesley bottomed out, his hips flush against Elio's ass. The feeling of being so utterly filled, of being so completely owned, was overwhelming. He could feel Wesley's pubic bone grinding against his tingling skin, could feel the throb of Wesley's cock inside him, pulse for pulse. The sensation of being stuffed and filled was too much. Elio felt like he was going to tear in two. Wesley was so big. Elio felt Wesley’s heavy balls swinging underneath his ass, smacking into his nuts. He had never felt so used, so filled. It was shameful. "Fuck, you're tight," Wesley groaned, pulling out slightly before slamming back in. Elio cried out, the sound torn from his throat as Wesley began to fuck him roughly, each thrust claiming him, asserting his ownership. Elio could feel the tears streaming down his face, could feel the shame burning in his cheeks as Wesley made him a whore. "Look at you," Wesley panted, his hips slapping against Elio's ass. "Such a pretty little slut. Begging for it, taking it all. You love this, don't you? You love being my little fucktoy." Wesley pushed himself onto Elio's back and started pounding him harder. He grabbed a fistful of Elio's hair and pulled his head up. He forced Elio to arch his back. This gave Wesley a deeper angle. It hurt even more - but it began to feel good at the same time. The pleasure and pain were mixed. It was overwhelming. Elio was sobbing. "You see how well you take my cock? Such a good little slut. You're taking me so well. You're such a good boy." Elio howled in pain.

Elio's cock is soft and Elio does not cum. Wesley fucks Elio hard for a long time, finally cumming in Elio's ass.

Wesley leaned down, his breath hot on Elio's ear. "You're not going to cum, are you, boy? You're just going to take my cock and take it like the slut you are." He punctuated his words with hard thrusts, each one driving Elio deeper into the mattress. The room filled with the obscene sounds of their fucking, the slap of flesh against flesh, the wet suction of Elio's hole stretching around Wesley's cock. Elio could only sob in response, his body a playground for Wesley's domination. He could feel every thick inch of Wesley's cock sliding in and out, the relentless pace designed to humiliate and claim. His own cock remained soft, a pathetic sight against his thigh, a testament to his fear and shame. Wesley reached down, grabbing Elio's limp cock, squeezing it roughly. "Pathetic," he growled. "Such a little slut, and you can't even get hard. You love this, don't you? You love being fucked like a little bitch." Elio's body jerked with each brutal thrust, his hole stretching and burning with each invasion. He could feel Wesley's cockhead hitting his prostate, sending jolts of painful pleasure through his body. His mind was a whirl of conflicting sensations—humiliation, pain, a twisted kind of pleasure. He was screaming now, his voice a raw, desperate sound, begging for mercy even as his body betrayed him, taking every inch of Wesley's cock. Wesley's grip on Elio's hair tightened, forcing his head back further, exposing his throat. "That's it, boy. Scream for me. Let them all hear how much you love being my little fucktoy." Wesley's thrusts became more erratic, his breathing ragged. Elio could feel the change in his rhythm, the building tension in his body. "Fuck, you're going to make me cum, you little slut," Wesley grunted, his hips slamming against Elio's ass with a ferocity that made Elio see stars. "You're going to take my cum like a good boy. You're going to feel me fill you up." With a final, powerful thrust, Wesley roared, his body shuddering as he came deep inside Elio. Elio could feel the heat of Wesley's cum, the pulsating release of his cock as it spurted into his ass. The sensation was overwhelming, a crude, primal mark of ownership. Wesley collapsed on top of him, his breath ragged, his cock still twitching inside Elio's hole. Elio lay there, sobbing, his body aching, his mind reeling from the brutal fucking. He could feel Wesley's cum leaking out of his ass, a sticky, humiliating reminder of his submission. Wesley pulled out slowly, leaving Elio's hole gaping and sore. He rolled off, a satisfied smirk on his lips. "Good boy," he murmured, his voice dripping with contempt. "You took it all like a good little slut."

Wesley plugs Elio to make him keep his cum in his hole. He lays down and holds Elio, cuddling with him as he again reminds Elio of his place. Deciding that he and Elio have a common understanding, Wesley tells Elio to go to sleep, and drifts off, holding him, Elio's hole still plugged and sore.

Elio's body shivered as Wesley's calloused hands gripped his hips, holding him steady. Wesley spat on his fingers, reaching down to coat the butt plug with saliva. "You're going to keep my cum inside you, boy," he commanded, pressing the cold, hard plug against Elio's gaping hole. The realization sent a fresh wave of humiliation crashing over Elio. He tensed, trying to resist the intrusion, but Wesley was relentless. Elio cried out as the plug stretched his already abused hole, the flared base slipping inside with a wet pop. Wesley pushed him down onto the bed, forcing Elio onto his side. He moved behind Elio, pressing his body against Elio's back. He pulled Elio against his chest, trapping him in his arms. Elio could feel the warmth of Wesley's bare skin, the raw power in his embrace. He could smell the musk of their fucking, the tang of sweat and cum. Elio's body ached, his hole throbbing around the plug, a constant reminder of his submission. "You're mine, boy," Wesley murmured, his voice a low rumble in Elio's ear. His hand slid down Elio's chest, fingers brushing over his nipples, making Elio gasp. "You exist for my pleasure. You're my little fucktoy, my good boy. You take my cock, you take my cum, and you keep it all inside you. You understand?" Elio nodded, a sob catching in his throat. He could feel the plug shifting inside him, the sensation both painful and strangely comforting. It was a physical manifestation of his humiliation, a constant reminder of his place. "Say it," Wesley demanded, his hand sliding lower, fingers wrapping around Elio's soft cock. Elio flinched at the touch, but Wesley didn't let go. "Say you understand, boy." "I understand," Elio whispered, his voice hoarse from screaming. "I'm yours. I'm your little fucktoy." "Good boy," Wesley murmured, his lips brushing against Elio's ear. "Now go to sleep. You need your rest. Tomorrow, we start again." Elio felt Wesley's body relax behind him, his breathing evening out as he drifted off to sleep. Elio lay there, his body aching, his mind racing. He could feel the plug inside him, the sticky remnants of Wesley's cum leaking out around it. He was sore, humiliated, and utterly exhausted. But despite it all, there was a strange sense of peace in his submission. He was Wesley's, completely and utterly. And in that moment, it was enough. As he felt himself drifting off, Wesley pressed his lips gently against Elio's neck. The kiss was warm and gentle, a stark contrast to the rough fucking from before. Elio heard Wesley whisper in his ear, "Good boy. You did so well taking my cock, and taking my cum. You took it so well. You're a good little slut."