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“Laurent, please, I have to–”

“Shhhh,” Laurent coos, smoothing his hand down Damen’s shaking side. “Now, what do you call me?”

Damen grits his teeth, fighting the urge to say something he knows he will regret. He closes his eyes and forces himself to whisper, “Daddy.”

Laurent’s reply is smug. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you.”

Damen’s breath catches on a sob. He’s so desperate he can barely breathe for it, but Laurent just won’t relent. “Daddy,” he begs, “Daddy please, I have to go, I have to–”

“That’s enough.”

Damen wants to scream. 

He’s lying on the bed, face down, his arms bound behind his back, his legs spread wide and fastened to a spreader bar. Laurent has him with his ass in the air, three fingers buried deep inside inside him, pressing so hard on Damen’s prostate that Damen can hardly stand it. He’s already come once, milked dry on Laurent’s fingers, but Laurent isn’t relenting. But that’s not even the worst thing.

Damen knows it is calculated. Laurent had been refilling his glass of wine all afternoon, determined not only to get Damen sweet and pliant and tipsy, but also to fill him up with enough liquid that of course, inevitably, Damen would need to relieve himself.

Except, Laurent isn’t letting him.

Laurent hasn’t let him for hours.

He’s so desperate now that it almost hurts, he feels like his stomach is going to burst any moment. He knows that Laurent fucking his fingers directly against Damen’s prostate isn’t helping. He knows that it is deliberate.

“If you can hold on until i’ve come, I’ll let you go to the bathroom,” Laurent says. “How does that sound?”

It sounds impossible, and Laurent knows it. There’s no way in hell Damen will be able to hold out that long.

It doesn’t stop Laurent from popping the cap off the lube and drizzling some onto his palm. It doesn’t stop him from taking his cock in hand and slicking it up. It doesn’t stop him from crowding against Damen’s back, from rubbing his cock in between the cheeks of Damen’s ass, chuckling low as Damen whines, his body so sensitive the touch almost hurts.

“You ready for me, baby?”

Damen cries out as Laurent slams inside. He isn’t gentle, doesn’t give Damen any time to adjust. He buries himself to the hilt in one smooth motion, and Damen nearly loses control.

After that, it is all he can do to hold on to it.

Laurent drives into him, hard and fast and utterly merciless. Damen cannot contain the noises he makes, he feels like he’s being ripped apart, filled so full and deep it surely will come out of his throat. Laurent knows exactly how to angle his hips to drive his cock directly into Damen’s prostate, and the pressure against his bladder is unbelievable.

“Laure– Daddy, please, I can’t.”

“You can,” Laurent snarls, voice ragged and breathless with his exertion. “You will.”

But Damen can’t. He can’t and they both know it.


If you’re so fucking desperate,” Laurent says, slamming his hips particularly hard against Damen’s ass. “Then why don’t you fucking piss yourself, like the filthy little whore you are, hmm?”

Damen feels his cheeks burn, he feels humiliation flash hot and icy down his spine. He can’t. He—

He doesn’t realise it’s happening at first. It’s only when he recognises the sensation of liquid sliding down his thigh is not, in fact, lube, that he realises that piss is starting to trickle out of his cock. 

And as soon as he notices it, there is nothing he can do to stop it.

With every thrust of Laurent inside him, more and more of his control is chipped away. With every slam of Laurent’s cock against his prostate, more and more piss is quite literally fucked out of him. He cries out, horrified, embarrassed, and yet so relieved he could cry. To his horror, the sensation of it feels good. The dual stimulation of Laurent’s cock driving into his prostate, and the gradual relief of piss slowly and steadily trickling out of him, relieving the pressure against his bladder that was agony for so long, feels incredible. Damen can’t help the shameful moan that escapes, can’t help the flush of arousal that stirs through him, making his cock twitch and splash piss all over the bed.

Laurent keeps on fucking him, not slowing or tiring or flagging once. He holds Damen’s arms like a handle, and uses it to pull Damen back into his thrusts, spearing him deeper each time. 

Damen is nearly incoherent as his cock slaps against his stomach obscenely, spurting piss against his chest and belly, rivulets of it dripping down his body and onto the bed below. There is nothing he can do to stop it, and the harder Laurent fucks him, the deeper the pleasure gets, the less he wants to.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants. “Daddy–”

Laurent laughs. “You fucking slut,” he says. “You really pissed yourself, hmm?” He slams into Damen so hard that the stream of piss that is fucked out of him nearly splashes Damen’s face. “What a disgusting little fucking whore.”

Laurent grinds his cock inside Damen, the pressure against Damen’s prostate sharper than ever. Damen chokes as it seems to open the floodgates and, just like that, his pleasure seems to plateau. The stream of piss feels almost like coming, and his eyes roll back into his head, his body shaking, as he rides the mind wrenching wave of sensation to it’s completion.

The clenching of his anus drives Laurent over the edge as well, and he comes inside Damen, grinding his cock deep to wrench out every last ounce of pleasure. He stays inside for a long time, until Damen has finally finished pissing or coming or whatever it was his body was doing. The man beneath him is utterly limp now, utterly uncaring of the fact that he is lying in a puddle of his own filth.

The sight of him makes Laurent smile.

“Good boy,” he says, feeling benevolent, as finally withdraws from Damen’s ass. “I bet you liked that, didn’t you?”

Damen makes a small sound, it sounds almost like a grunt of approval. Laurent laughs at that, and slaps his ass. He parts the cheeks, staring at the small, furled little red hole, dripping his come. An idea strikes him.

“Stay still for me, baby,” he says. “Got a little surprise for you.”

He holds his now flaccid cock in his hands, aiming it directly at Damen’s hole, and, with a deep sigh, let’s go. It takes a while to finally release so soon after orgasm, but Laurent manages it. His stream of piss splashes directly onto Damen’s asshole, running down his cheeks to soak his cock and balls, errant drops wetting the curve of his ass and the small of his back. Damen moans incoherently. He moves, his hips jerking, and Laurent can’t tell if he wants to get away or move closer. Laurent solves the problem for him.

He hooks his thumbs in Damen’s hole, wetting his fingers in his own piss as he does, and points his cock directly at the little gape he has made. It winks at him, trying to close around the intrusion of Laurent’s thumbs, but it cannot prevent the trickles of piss from running inside.

Laurent keeps at it until his bladder is empty.

Laurent smirks, as he wipes his piss soaked hands on Damen’s sweat soaked back. “Like a painted whore,” he says.

Damen moans, low and hot. “Thank you, daddy.”