Chapter 6: Double Domination
The cold steel plug remained an inescapable anchor, a heavy, intrusive presence deep inside Raven. Time blurred. The ropes still bit into his wrists and ankles, the silk beneath him cool against his overheated skin. Dante’s cum had dried tacky on his thighs. The ache in his cunt was a low, persistent throb beneath the sharper, more immediate pressure of the plug. He drifted in a haze of exhaustion and residual terror, eyelids fluttering, the opulent room swimming in and out of focus. The faint jazz melody felt like a cruel mockery of his helplessness. He tried to shift, seeking a fraction of relief, but the plug shifted with him, sending a fresh wave of dull pain and startling fullness through his core. A pathetic whimper escaped his chapped lips.
The bedroom door opened without preamble. Dante stood there, silhouetted again, but this time he’d shed his shirt entirely. Bare-chested, the powerful muscles of his torso and arms were starkly defined in the low light, dusted with dark hair. He held a small bottle of lubricant, the clear liquid catching the light. His dark eyes scanned Raven, bound and plugged on his bed, with undisguised hunger.
"Comfortable, piccolo corvo?" Dante’s voice was a low purr, thick with dark amusement. He approached the bed, his movements predatory and deliberate. He uncapped the lube, the sound sharp in the tense silence. Raven flinched violently as Dante’s large, calloused hand gripped his hip, fingers digging in possessively. "Didn't think so."
With terrifying efficiency, Dante worked at the knots binding Raven’s ankles. The hemp fell away. Before Raven could process the sudden freedom in his legs, Dante hauled him upwards by the hips, the movement brutal and jarring. Raven cried out as his body was forcibly rearranged, the plug shifting heavily inside him. Dante dragged him onto his knees, positioning him near the edge of the bed, facing the ornate footboard. He left Raven’s wrists still bound to the headboard posts, forcing his upper body to lean forward, his back arched, ass presented obscenely high.
"Hold that position," Dante commanded, his voice leaving no room for disobedience. He stepped back, admiring the view: Raven trembling on his knees, bound wrists pulling his torso taut, the glint of the steel plug’s base nestled between his spread, vulnerable cheeks, his cunt lips still swollen and glistening faintly. Dante squeezed a generous amount of cold lube onto his fingers.
Raven braced himself, squeezing his eyes shut, breath hitching. He felt Dante’s slick fingers circle the base of the plug, tracing the stretched rim of his hole. The touch was clinical, possessive. Then, Dante gripped the flared base firmly.
"Remember what this feels like," Dante murmured, his voice dangerously soft. "Remember how deep it sits inside your greedy little fuckhole."
With agonizing slowness, Dante began to withdraw the plug. The thick shaft dragged against Raven’s sensitized inner walls, each ridge catching and pulling, stretching him wide open all over again. It felt like being turned inside out. Raven gasped, a ragged, broken sound, his body instinctively trying to clench against the retreating intrusion, only succeeding in making the drag more torturous. "Ah! Ahhh, fuck... please..."
"Please what?" Dante taunted, pausing when only the bulbous tip remained inside. Raven could feel the cold air hitting his gaping entrance, the sudden emptiness terrifying in its own way. "Please stop? Or please shove it back in?" He gave the plug a cruel little twist.
Raven screamed, the sound raw and desperate. "No! Don't—"
The plea was cut off instantly. With a brutal, piston-like thrust, Dante slammed the plug back home. The thick steel shaft plunged deep, stretching Raven impossibly wide, forcing a shocked, guttural cry from his throat. The flare of the base slapped hard against his outer lips, the impact jarring his entire body. Before Raven could even draw breath to scream again, Dante gripped his hair near the scalp, fingers tangling in the dark, choppy strands, and yanked his head back violently.
Dante’s thick, hard cock, already slick with pre-cum, slapped against Raven’s tear-streaked cheek. The musky scent filled Raven’s nostrils. "Open," Dante growled, the command absolute.
Raven’s jaw trembled, his lips parting instinctively in terror. It was enough. Dante shoved his cock past Raven’s lips and teeth, forcing it deep into his throat in one ruthless motion. Raven gagged violently, his eyes bulging, tears instantly streaming anew. The thick head pressed against the back of his throat, blocking his airway. He choked, saliva dripping down his chin, his body convulsing.
Dante didn't pause. He began to fuck Raven’s mouth with the same brutal rhythm he used on his cunt. His hips pistoned forward, driving his cock deep into Raven’s constricting throat, then withdrawing almost completely before plunging back in. Each thrust choked Raven, cutting off his air, making him gag and splutter around the invading flesh. The taste of salt, pre-cum, and his own panic flooded his mouth.
Simultaneously, Dante’s other hand never left the plug buried in Raven’s cunt. As he withdrew his cock from Raven’s throat, allowing a split-second gasp of air, Dante would twist the plug sharply or pull it out an inch. Then, as he rammed his cock back down Raven’s gullet, he’d slam the plug back in with equal force, burying it to the hilt. The dual violation was overwhelming, synchronized torture.
Raven was trapped in a horrifying rhythm. Choke. Gasp. The plug twisting, stretching him obscenely wide. Choke. Gasp. The plug slammed deep, a heavy, bruising intrusion. His throat burned, raw and abused. His cunt throbbed, stretched and filled relentlessly. Tears and saliva slicked his face, dripping onto the dark silk beneath him. His bound wrists strained against the ropes, muscles screaming. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe properly, could only exist as a vessel for Dante’s relentless possession.
"Yeah, that’s it," Dante grunted, his voice thick with exertion and dark pleasure. He watched Raven’s face contort with each throat-fucking thrust, saw the tears stream through smudged kohl, felt the desperate flutter of Raven’s throat around his cock and the clenching spasms around the plug buried in his cunt. "Take it, you filthy little whore. Take my cock down your throat. Take my plug in your cunt. That’s all you’re good for." He punctuated the words with a particularly hard thrust into Raven’s throat, holding it deep, watching Raven’s eyes roll back slightly as he struggled not to black out. At the same moment, he twisted the plug viciously inside Raven’s cunt, pulling a muffled, agonized scream around his cock.
Dante maintained the brutal pace, fucking Raven’s throat and manipulating the plug in his cunt with ruthless efficiency. Raven’s world narrowed to the choking fullness in his throat, the deep, stretching ache in his cunt, the bite of the ropes, and the terrifying, overwhelming presence of Dante controlling it all. A traitorous heat, thick and shameful, coiled tighter and tighter in his belly beneath the pain and terror, fed by the sheer intensity of the violation and his own twisted need for submission.
Finally, with a guttural groan, Dante shoved his cock impossibly deep into Raven’s throat and held it there, his balls slapping against Raven’s chin. Raven felt the hot, thick pulses of cum jetting directly down his constricted throat. He gagged violently, trying to swallow, choking on the flood. Simultaneously, Dante gave the plug one final, brutal twist and shove, seating it impossibly deep as he emptied himself into Raven’s mouth.
Dante held him there for a long moment, Raven trembling violently, choking on cum, feeling the plug’s heavy, unyielding presence deep inside him. Then, Dante slowly withdrew his softening cock from Raven’s ravaged mouth with a wet, obscene pop. Raven gasped, coughing violently, strings of saliva and cum connecting his lips to Dante’s glistening cock.
Dante leaned down, his breath hot on Raven’s ear, his voice rough and satisfied. "Good little fucktoy." He tapped the plug’s base again, making Raven whimper. "Keep that hole stuffed and ready. I’m not done with you yet." He straightened, leaving Raven kneeling, bound, choking, violated front and back, the cold steel plug a constant, heavy reminder deep inside his trembling body. Dante walked towards the ensuite bathroom, leaving Raven stranded in the aftermath, the taste of salt and sex thick on his tongue, the ache of ownership settling into his bones.
The bathroom door clicked shut, sealing Raven in the heavy silence of the room. He knelt, stranded on the bed, the cold steel plug a permanent, weighted fixture inside him. Each shaky breath he drew reminded him of its presence, a deep, stretching fullness that echoed the raw ache in his throat.
He could still taste Dante, the bitter salt of his cum mingling with the coppery tang of his own fear. His wrists, still bound above him, throbbed in time with his pulse. The dark silk beneath his knees was damp with sweat and other fluids, the scent of sex and submission clinging to the air. He tried to shift his weight, to find some small relief, but the movement only made the plug shift, sending a jolt of sharp sensation through his core.
The bathroom door opened again. Dante emerged, a towel slung low on his hips, his torso still glistening with water. In his hand, he carried a small black leather case, its appearance ominously professional. Raven’s breath hitched, his eyes fixed on the case as Dante placed it on the bedside table with a soft, definitive thud.
The latches snapped open with two precise clicks. Dante didn’t look at Raven, his focus entirely on the case’s contents. "That plug was just to get you started," he said, his voice casual, as if discussing the weather. "To remind you of the stretch." He reached inside and pulled out an object made of cold, polished steel.
It was a speculum. The two curved blades, hinged and mechanical, looked surgical and cruel. Raven’s mind went blank with a fresh, dizzying wave of terror. This was different. This was colder.
"No," Raven whispered, the word a ragged plea torn from his bruised throat. "Dante, please, not that."
Dante finally turned his gaze on him, a dark eyebrow arched. "You don't get to say 'no'." He picked up the bottle of lube again, coating the cold metal blades generously. The sound of the slick liquid was obscene. "You just get to take what I give you." He moved behind Raven, his presence looming.
Raven flinched as Dante’s hand gripped his hip, holding him firmly in place. He felt the cold, lubricated tip of the closed speculum nudge against his entrance, right beside the base of the plug. It was a different kind of cold, sharp and threatening. "Please," he begged again, his body trembling uncontrollably.
"Shhh, piccolo corvo," Dante murmured, the false tenderness in his voice more frightening than his anger. He applied steady, unrelenting pressure. The closed blades of the speculum began to part his lips, sliding inside him alongside the plug. It was a tight, burning stretch, the foreign object forcing its way into his already filled channel.
Raven cried out, a high, strained sound, as the metal invaded him. He could feel the distinct shape of it, the hinged mechanism pressing against his sensitive inner walls. Dante worked it deeper, inch by torturous inch, until it was seated fully inside him. Raven panted, his knuckles white where they gripped the ropes, his entire being focused on the brutal, double fullness.
Then Dante’s hand found the lever. "Now," he said, his voice a low growl of anticipation. "Let's have a look at what's mine."
With a slow, mechanical turn, Dante began to open the speculum. The blades inside Raven started to separate. It was a slow, deliberate stretching, a feeling of being forced open from the inside out. Raven screamed, the sound raw and endless, as the metal jaws expanded, pushing relentlessly against his tender, swollen flesh. The stretch was astronomical, a tearing, burning agony that eclipsed everything that had come before.
"Look at that," Dante said, his voice thick with dark fascination. He adjusted the locking mechanism, and with a final, sickening click, the speculum locked into place, holding Raven brutally, obscenely open. Raven could feel the cold air of the room hitting his deepest, most vulnerable tissues, exposed and helpless. He was stretched wider than he thought possible, the plug and the speculum occupying him completely.
Tears streamed down Raven's face, his body convulsing in shaky sobs. The violation was absolute, a cold, clinical invasion that laid him bare in a way the raw fucking never had. He was pinned, displayed, his most intimate flesh forced into a permanent, gaping O of submission.
Dante ran a single, possessive finger around the stretched, trembling rim of his cunt, tracing the cold steel of the speculum blades. "So pretty," he mused, his touch a brand. "All pink and wet and open for me. Every part of you." He leaned close, his lips brushing Raven's ear. "And this is just the beginning. The case is still full."
The stretched, burning ache was a universe of its own, a brutalized center where cold steel and forced openness eclipsed all thought. Raven’s sobs were shallow, hiccupping things, his body trembling violently around the unyielding metal holding him obscenely agape. Dante watched him dispassionately for a long moment, tracing the rim of exposed, fluttering flesh with a single, proprietorial finger.
Then he moved. He leaned down, his breath a warm contrast to the chilled metal. His tongue, flat and rough, swept a slow, deliberate circle around Raven’s exposed clit.
The sensation was a lightning bolt of shocking, unwanted pleasure straight into the heart of the agony. Raven jerked, a sharp, involuntary mewl tearing from his throat, his hips twitching helplessly against the brutal stretch. It was humiliation, wired directly to his nerves.
"See?" Dante murmured, his voice a dark rumble against Raven’s sensitized skin. He didn’t lick again, just let the word hang there. "Your body doesn’t lie. Even like this." He straightened, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes glinting. "Even when I’ve got you pried open like a piece of medical equipment, it still wants to come for me. Pathetic."
He walked to the foot of the bed, observing his work. Raven hung from his bound wrists, knees sinking into the silk, the speculum gleaming. The plug was still there too, a secondary fullness beneath the cruel stretch of the blades. Dante picked up the small black case from the nightstand, turning it over in his hands.
"You’re probably wondering what else is in here," he said casually, as if showing off a new toolset. He didn’t open it. "Or you’re trying not to wonder. Both are fun." He set the case down and approached Raven again, his movement fluid. He placed his hands on Raven’s spread thighs, his thumbs digging into the taut muscle. "You’re gonna stay like this a while. Get used to the feeling. Think about what it means that I can do this to you."
He leaned close, his lips beside Raven’s ear. "That I want to do this to you."
Raven flinched, a fresh tear cutting through the dried tracks on his cheek. The cold air on his violated core was a constant, shuddering reminder. He tried to speak, but only a rasp emerged.
"Thirsty?" Dante asked, his tone shifting to a mock-concern. He reached for a crystal glass of water on the nightstand, condensation beading on its surface. He brought it to Raven’s cracked lips. "Drink."
Raven drank greedily, the cool water a relief to his raw throat. He choked a little, water dribbling down his chin. Dante pulled the glass away before he was finished.
"Good," Dante said. He ran his thumb over Raven’s wet lower lip. "See? I take care of what’s mine. Even when I’m breaking it." He glanced at the speculum, a clinical curiosity in his gaze. "Probably starting to ache in a deeper way now. The initial burn’s fading into a good, solid hurt. Isn’t it?"
Raven nodded, a tiny, shameful motion. It was true. The sharp agony had settled into a deep, throbbing occupation.
"That’s the point," Dante said, answering the unspoken admission. He walked to a high-backed velvet chair near the window and sat, crossing one leg over the other. He lit a cigar, the match flaring and then settling into a slow burn. He took a long pull, the smoke curling around him in the dim light. He just watched. "Carry the weight. Feel the stretch. Know it’s because I put it there."
The silent observation was its own torture. Raven was pinned, utterly displayed, under Dante’s contemplative stare. The jazz record had ended, leaving a silence filled only with the tick of a distant clock, the soft crackle of Dante’s cigar, and Raven’s shaky, uneven breaths. Time stretched, thin and cruel, measured in the persistent, degrading ache between his legs.
After an eternity, Dante uncrossed his legs and stood. He approached, ash tipping from his cigar into a tray. He studied Raven’s face, the defeated slump of his shoulders, the way his body still occasionally trembled around the metal.
"Had enough?" Dante asked, his voice deceptively soft.
Raven nodded desperately, another broken sound escaping him.
Dante’s smile was a thin, sharp line. He set his cigar down and moved behind Raven. His hands found the locking mechanism of the speculum. "This part’s worse," he commented idly. "Going in is one thing. Coming out… the body clings. It doesn’t want to let go."
He disengaged the lock. The relief of the metal ceasing its outward pressure was instantaneous, but brief. Then Dante began to slowly, slowly close the blades.
A shattered cry ripped from Raven’s throat. It was a scraping, dragging torment, his oversensitized flesh clinging to the cold steel as it was withdrawn. It felt like being turned inside out all over again, a raw, burning scrape that seemed to go on forever. He shook violently, his vision blurring at the edges.
Finally, with a soft, wet sound, the speculum was free. The sudden absence was a shock, a gaping, empty vulnerability. He felt achingly open, hollowed out. The plug remained, a now-familiar anchor of cold fullness.
Dante held the glistening speculum up, examining it in the light before placing it back in the case. He didn’t clean it. "Remember that feeling," he said, his voice low. "That empty, used feeling. It’s yours now."
He moved to the head of the bed and began, with surprising gentleness, to untie the ropes from Raven’s wrists. The blood rushed back into Raven’s hands with a painful, prickling surge. He collapsed forward, unable to support himself, his face pressing into the damp silk. Every part of him felt wrecked and owned.
Dante’s hands slid under him, lifting him with ease. He laid Raven back on the pillows, arranging his limp limbs. He looked down at him, at the tears, the smeared makeup, the utterly defeated exhaustion.
He leaned in, brushing Raven’s hair from his forehead. "You did so well, piccolo corvo," he whispered, the praise like a drug. He trailed a finger down Raven’s chest, over the flat planes of his top surgery scars, a touch that was almost tender. "Now sleep. Right here. With my plug in you."
He pulled the heavy black duvet over Raven’s trembling body. "Tomorrow," Dante said, turning to leave the room, his final words drifting back, quiet and absolute, "we see what else fits."