Work Text:
Wooyoung has no idea how long it’s been since they’ve been kidnapped. It seems like an eternity since they were inside their company van. But in here, time shifts and bends and twists until it all flows together into an unidentifiable mess.
They’re kept in a single room, all eight of them. A sterile, white cell with a single TV in the corner that plays old shows during the day, and eight mattresses on the floor. Probably somewhere in a basement since there’s no windows. The heavy iron door is always locked, unbudgeable, effectively making every escape impossible.
It opens nine times a day. Every time, another member is taken away, and later brought back, just to be exchanged with the next. Wooyoung doesn’t know how long each of them is gone, but if he had to guess, he would assume it’s an hour. Eight hours for all of them. A usual workday.
The first time he’s been swept away from the other’s, he legitimately thought he would die. He was the first one they’d taken, and he will never forget the muffled cries of San’s voice behind his gag, or the sheer desperation in Mingi’s eyes.
Hongjoong had tried to stop them, but with his arms tied behind his back, he was absolutely no match for them.
Today, when one of their captors gets Wooyoung, nobody fights anymore. Wooyoung wants to say that he fought the first time, fought for his life, maybe landed at least a single punch. But he didn’t. He was too scared, panic clamping down onto his body, until every muscle locked up. If he just didn’t fight, maybe they would spare him.
All he wanted was to survive.
Now, he doesn’t fight because he’s longing for what’s about to come. He’s already hard when they push him through another door because his body was perfectly conditioned for this. Every part of him is warm and excited from the moment he wakes up because he knows they will come to get him in the morning.
He’s pushed through a door a bit down the hallway and guided to the big leather in the middle of the room.
Steady hands bend him over the fingering bench. Wooyoung doesn’t know if that’s the right name for it. But that’s what it is. His arms are released from the permanent bonds that tie his hands together behind his back before they are strapped back down beside his head.
Otherwise, they’ll just get in the way.
Wooyoung is already naked.
That was one of the first things they did. Strip them all of their clothes before they were tied up, gagged, and thrown into their cell.
It was weird, at first. They’ve all seen each other naked before, but never so… permanently. Usually, Wooyoung would see the cock of another member for a fleeting five seconds before they put on their next costume or whatever else. Now, he thinks the shape, size, and colour of each inch of skin is burnt into his memory forever.
They all tried to look somewhere else at first, preserve each other’s modesty. Wooyoung’s face had burned with humiliation when Hongjoong eventually approached him to check if he was okay.
Now, he’s used to it. It still embarrasses him when he gets hard so readily nowadays, but it makes things easier.
The fingering bench’s leather is cold on Wooyoung’s sensitive belly. He’s never liked that, but he learnt that it warms up quickly. Once the chains on his wrists click, Wooyoung pulls on them experimentally. It’s become a habit.
First, it was to check if there was maybe a way to escape.
Now it’s more of a Yup, they don’t budge.
Good.
Excitement curls in Wooyoung’s gut. He loves this part. When he’s absolutely powerless to the first touches on his ass. Whoever kidnapped them always wears gloves. The feeling of the cold silicone is known by now, but it never fails to arouse Wooyoung. The texture feels so surreal, clean and smooth, and Wooyoung shudders.
Maybe it’s also because his body already knows what’s next.
He hears a dirty squirting sound and bites the gag in delight. It can’t stifle the moan of anticipation when a warm hand grabs his ass cheek before it is pulled aside.
The wet, cold finger against his furled hole still makes him flinch. But Wooyoung is quick to relax again. After all, this is what he’s been waiting for.
The finger rubs against him, and Wooyoung can’t help how his heart quickens. Already, his body starts to warm.
His hole feels so much more open than it did when this started.
About a week in, he tried to fight them. It took him eight days to struggle for the first time, but at least it helped catch his captors off guard. Of course, it had been no use. Wooyoung had heard the zapping of electricity, and then he’d seen the red electric rod. White lightning shot from it when it got close to something else in the room.
Wooyoung had screamed behind his gag, pleaded them not to. But it had been no use. The pain had been burning, hot and agonizing, but unlike fire, it felt like it came from the inside. Wooyoung had given up immediately, crying throughout the whole procedure that followed.
Three more days were necessary to work up enough courage to try to run again.
He’d actually waited for a good opportunity, this time, just before they would strap down his hands. Still, the electro shocker got him before he could make it out the door. The handle had been in his hand, and his palm felt like it was being grilled.
Wooyoung had sunken down into a sobbing puddle, as his captor stood above him, cane still in hand. Despite the gag, Wooyoung had tried to beg for mercy, as he crouched down.
“If you actually manage to run”, the man had said with a voice that was way too calm for Wooyoung’s panicked sobs, “I will kill off the others. Got it?”
He didn’t give Wooyoung a chance to answer before he shocked him again.
For all that Wooyoung wants to be heroic and say that the threat was why he never tried to run again, he is not sure about it. The memory of the pain is ingrained into his muscles. They twitch whenever he thinks about it. Wooyoung never wants to experience that again.
It’s easier like this. Just staying still and enjoying what happens to him instead of trying to fight it.
His captor is circling at Wooyoung’s rim until he’s all nice and sloppy wet, before he finally pushes inside. Wooyoung’s thighs quiver at the intrusion, and a breathy sound spills through the hole in the gag. It’s how they get food and water, through a straw inserted into the hole of their mouthpiece. Mostly, they get soup. Not particularly nice, but it’s better than nothing.
The finger pushes in about one glorious inch before it withdraws and Wooyoung hears the slick sound of the lube bottle again. His captor is always careful not to hurt him. Wooyoung thinks a little pain might mike it easier on his mind. Then he could remember that he’s not supposed to like this.
As it is, he finds himself impatient, craving that sweet stroking finger inside him. It gets back soon enough. Pushes in again, deeper this time, all the way in, and wiggles. Wooyoung moans in delight.
He’d tried to hold back his sounds at first, until he realized that a couple of sweet moans will get him more stimulation on his prostate on a good day. The fingers are always thorough, making sure he’s nicely stretched and hard and aroused.
But ever since Wooyoung already arrives hard and leaking at the bench, the fingering has gotten shorter. And no matter how much Wooyoung enjoys the second part, nothing beats this.
The feeling of warm, human fingers inside him. Little digits curling and rubbing inside his clenching hole. Prodding inside him so good that Wooyoung starts drooling. They tease him until he’s soft and swollen, always moving. There’s no predicting how they might move next, and that makes it so much more exciting.
Wooyoung wonders if his ass has always been so sensitive, or if it has gotten more extreme over the time he’s spent here. After all, this has become a routine with the sole goal of getting him off at the end of it.
The finger fucks in and out of him slowly, moving while Wooyoung can feel his hole ripple around it. Low cut-off moans tumble out of him with every thrust inside, and Wooyoung resists the urge to grind back to get them deeper.
He’s become greedy. At moments like these, he revels in the feeling of being filled. He loves it so much that he wants it all day. He wants something to fuck into him all the time, with that same, slow, maddening pace. Those teasing touches that slowly rile him up while he’s immobile and needy.
Sometimes he lets his mind wander. It helps that their captors are usually quiet, not talking, not even grunting, barely making any sounds.
Then Wooyoung imagines San in his stead, telling Wooyoung that he’s been naughty, so he needs to be put in his place again. That’s why he’s here, naked and strapped down to be used without any way to fight it.
You look perfect like this, Wooyoung, San’s voice says inside his head. All mine to play with. Your hole opens up so well. This is where you’re supposed to be.
The finger rubs against his insides until Wooyoung jerks when it finds his prostate. It’s so good, such a deep, overwhelming pleasure, that Wooyoung’s eyes roll back.
Without haste, the finger starts stroking over it. Slow swipes, stimulating it with small, soft movements. Every single push against his sweet spot makes more desperation accumulate in Wooyoung’s gut.
He moans louder because he doesn’t want it to stop. If he just moans prettily enough, he might be allowed to get off like this.
It’s always so pleasantly dissatisfying when he does. To be milked off until the cum spills from his cock but without the relief of a true orgasm. To be forced through his release like that without any way to fight it. Without a single touch to his dick.
He gets stimulated until he’s salivating, starting to get close. But then the finger withdraws. Wooyoung whines, yet there’s no answer.
The whole procedure is very clinical, no unnecessary touches, no words exchanged. It’s detached, somehow, from real life, feels like a fantasy come true. Maybe it should be more of a nightmare, but Wooyoung doesn’t feel like that, not anymore.
It feels way too good.
More lube is dumped onto the fingers, and two return. Wooyoung’s heart beats louder inside his chest. He can’t decide which part of the process he likes best. One finger can stimulate him with cruel precision. Push him until he’s squirming, moaning, leaking. It puts him into the state he is now. Desperate, aroused, and greedy.
But two? Two can open him until he’s gaping.
The air is heavy with a smell of sex already, and Wooyoung can’t help but think it might be the precum dripping from his swollen cock. The scent makes him heady, drooling for more.
The two fingers push inside of him, and Wooyoung’s hole opens willingly. He’s been trained so well, all of his body atoned perfectly to welcome the intrusion.
Now Wooyoung can’t help it. His hips move against the fingers to get them deeper, quicker, fucking himself onto them with what little movement his restraints allow.
He moans when he succeeds, moans louder when they get stuck on his prostate for a moment, before they move all the way in. Wooyoung’s cock is so hard by now, itching for a touch. But the fingers are unforgiving. They never trail down to his cock when he’s like this, even though it feels so sensitive that Wooyoung feels like a gust of wind would be enough stimulation.
Wooyoung clenches at the thought, making himself feel so deliciously full. He loves how he’s being denied.
After scissoring him for a few minutes, the fingers start to draw circles inside him. Wooyoung didn’t understand why at first, because out of the few guys he’s had sex with, none of them had done it. Aside from the fact that nobody ever paid this much attention to preparing him either. It’s so overwhelmingly good to have somebody put all their focus onto Wooyoung’s most sensitive spots.
Only when the fingers pulled out the first time did Wooyoung understand why they were circling. Because it had left Wooyoung absolutely gaping. His pulse had picked up, when he first felt it, felt himself staying open even with nothing inside him. It was cold and unusual and frankly frightening. The panic soon gave way to fascination. No matter how hard he tried to clench, it was no use. His hole wouldn’t close.
Fascination shifted into arousal. Now, the thought that he’s opened up so much that he won’t even be able to close again makes Wooyoung sob and grab tightly onto the handles beneath his hands. Everyone could use him like this. He’s open and exposed, almost inviting anyone who takes a look at his ass to put something inside. It makes him giddy.
The fingers are stirring the skin of his hole, and the thought embarrasses Wooyoung as much as it turns him on. He can hear how wet he’s getting, new lube added every few minutes, until he’s positively dripping with it. It squelches with every movement, each press on his inner muscles so good that Wooyoung starts panting.
He never wants it to end. It feels so good to be strapped down like this. Just an object that is made to be pleasured. No matter how much he whines or struggles, he won’t escape the way his body is stimulated, forced to feel better and better with every stroke of those fingers.
He’s managed to relax into the sensations around what must have been about a month, and ever since then, his mind goes empty except for the thought of more, more stimulation, more fingers, more fucking.
The circling motion opens and opens him until Wooyoung is confident a hand could fit inside him. Involuntarily, pictures of San’s hands flash his mind.
Last time he got back, he had the same thought, and couldn’t help but stare at the other’s strong, slender hands. San had given him a weird look when he noticed, but it still didn’t stop Wooyoung from imagining San’s hands fingering him all night through.
He was going mad, but he craved it. To have a whole hand inside him, each finger moving independently, pressing, tugging, massaging at his insides while Wooyoung can only take it with a dumb smile on his face.
The pressure inside Wooyoung heightens, making his cock twitch impatiently. Wooyoung moans at the feeling, hands tugging against the restraints again and delighting when they won’t budge. He wants to come so much. He wants to be fucked full and milked off.
But there is nothing he can do. The knowledge makes his heart race in a mix of frustration and excitement.
Carefully, the fingers withdraw, and Wooyoung whines breathily in disappointment.
Luckily, there’s still stage two. When the restraints snap open, Wooyoung feels like a puddle of pleasure. His mind is addled with dopamine and arousal, thighs shaking with excitement when he’s made to walk into the next room.
The first times, there’s always been two people. Two kidnappers in the room with him, so one could stand guard, while the other guides Wooyoung through the door on the side wall.
By now, just one of them is enough to ensure Wooyoung stays onto the right path when he’s like this. Secretly, Wooyoung is pretty sure they wouldn’t even need to push him. He’s desperate enough to go willingly, because nothing compares to what is waiting for him on the other side of that door.
It swings open to reveal yet another windowless room, the low whirring of the lights and the air conditioning the only sounds. The walls are painted in a dark purple, that gives the room a calming atmosphere, different from the grey in the corridors and the white tiles in the room they are usually kept in.
The centrepiece is a big chair that looks like it could be from a gynaecologist’s practice – if it wasn’t for the black leather straps attached to the handles and stir-ups.
Once again, no words are spoken, but they aren’t needed. After all, the procedure repeats every day for however long they’ve been here.
Wooyoung walks over to the chair on wobbly legs, trying not to swing his dick around too much. It’s too sensitive right now and he really doesn’t want to come like this.
He gets into position without being asked to, relaxing into the chair until he’s comfortable, hands firmly grabbing onto the handles. The most embarrassing part is always lifting his legs onto the stir-ups, high and spread so far, his opened hole is exposed to the middle of the room.
It still takes Wooyoung a lot of willpower to do it, and sometimes he can’t. Today is one of those days. One of the days where he presses his legs together sheepishly, dangling them down the seat.
His captor knows by now not to see it as an act of defiance and rebellion.
It shows in the way Wooyoung doesn’t fight when the leather straps are fastened around his hands, almost feels relieved when they are, when he’s powerless again, and can just stare onto the ceiling. There’s nothing interesting there, the same monotonous shade of colour the walls are. Still, it helps Wooyoung calm the anxiety swirling his blood.
Strong hands grab his ankles, and Wooyoung mumbles gibberish pathetically. His eyes press closed, disgusted with himself for a moment, now that there’s no stimulation to distract him from what is happening.
He moves willingly, when the hands guide him into the stir-ups and strap him down, one leg after the other. Wooyoung swallows the saliva inside his mouth, trying to calm himself.
He’s cried before, especially at this moment, but it only serves to make his nose clog up. Breathing through the holes in the gag is possible, yet it’s a struggle. Every time Wooyoung needed to swallow, it felt like he was running out of air, desperately gulping in another breath and still feeling behind.
Another strap goes around his hips, to make sure he stays perfectly in place, pulled tight and inescapable. He’s bound everywhere. Hands, legs and hips, unable to move anything but his head.
Once Wooyoung is secured, he releases a long breath from his nose. There’s nothing he can do now. It’s okay to enjoy it. He can’t change it anyways.
His heartbeat quickens again when his captor wheels another contraception towards him. Toes curling, Wooyoung’s eyes rake over it in anticipation.
The lower part of it is a fucking machine, big and black, a strong motor inside it. It’s crowned with a nicely sized dildo, black and veiny, with an exposed tip, and Wooyoung knows from experience that it can make him come harder than any real dick. The girth stretches him perfectly, and the plastic veins are like little ridges that give him additional stimulation whenever that thing pushes deep into him.
It fits into his hole perfectly, and Wooyoung can’t wait to feel it open him up.
His captor rolls a condom onto it before it is slacked up generously with lube. It’s a lot more than Wooyoung would need for a nice fuck, but since it’ll be running for about an hour, Wooyoung supposes he should be grateful.
Wheeling it even closer, the plastic dick bumps against Wooyoung’s hole. Wooyoung clenches around nothing in anticipation. With a press against a button, the machine starts whirring, and a second later, the dildo slowly pushes inside.
It parts Wooyoung’s stretched hole effortlessly, and the tip is in before Wooyoung knows it. Then it stops. Wooyoung writhes and moans on it, circling his hips with what restricted movement he can manage, to stimulate himself further. It’s not enough, but Wooyoung knows he’ll have to wait a bit more until it will start properly fucking him.
First, the upper part of the contraception must be attached. This is the only part Wooyoung really despises. His captor attaches a long, very thin cannula to the machine. More lube is dumped onto that tube, too, and Wooyoung closes his eyes.
He hisses, when a hand grabs his dick unceremoniously, and his hands ball into fists around the leather rests.
The blunt tip of the cannula touches his cock. The hole in Wooyoung’s tip has widened, too. It was definitely tighter before he came here, but it’s no wonder. Every day, something goes inside of it, after all. The glide is relatively easy by now, but Wooyoung still doesn’t like the feeling of something going into his cock.
Surprisingly, it doesn’t feel too bad today. Wooyoung can track the tube sliding down his urethra, but today, instead of burning, it just feels exciting. It adds to the nice pressure on his dick that makes him so deliriously desperate. A shudder runs through him.
Wooyoung cracks one eye open, and watches, fascinated, as more and more of the plastic disappears inside of him. He feels it as much as he sees it, and his body grows hot.
He releases a couple of breathy moans, transfixed on the sight. Fuck, why does that look so hot? It’s so wrong to see something go into his dick instead of out of him, but Wooyoung loves it. Loves seeing something disappear inside a hole.
The cannula goes deeper and deeper, until it sits nicely at the base of his cock. The first few times, they had sometimes pushed too deep, pushing all the way down into Wooyoung’s bladder. It had felt so weird. Like he had to pee, urgently, overwhelmingly, but also weirdly arousing. Especially when they pushed against it again.
Wooyoung remembers hearing that the prostate lies behind the bladder. Maybe they stimulated it from the other side. Part of Wooyoung is curious if he could come like that.
He’d actually started to piss a little bit through the cannula back then, without a way to stop it, and it was the most humiliating thing that has ever happened to him. His captors had cursed, muttering about how they had to exchange the tube now, and the process had begun anew.
He’d been so scared that first time. Wooyoung wonders what it would feel like now. If they forced the tube deeper, all the way down on purpose. Making him pee while stimulating his prostate with no way for him to stop it. Maybe turning on the fucking machine while they were doing it. Truly milking him of everything he has to give.
Guilty heat gathers in Wooyoung’s stomach.
Once the tube is secured, too, the last part of the contraception comes into play. Along the cannula, a cylindrical pump is slid down all the way onto Wooyoung’s dick. Its base is made to be attachable to the strap around Wooyoung’s hip, so it won’t budge no matter how much Wooyoung tries to move.
Wooyoung’s heart beats into his throat when his captor is done with everything. The anticipation is killing him. Finally, finally, his captor steps back, and moves to the machine.
“Give me a couple good loads today, yeah?”, is the only thing he says, before he flips the button. The machine starts whirring faintly, and immediately, Wooyoung feels the dildo move deeper into him. It stretches his sensitive walls slowly, so incredibly slowly, that Wooyoung is going mad. He moans, low and long.
His head hits the chair behind him when the plastic dick strokes over his prostate, pressing against it so perfectly that sparks fly through his body. It’s too slow, and Wooyoung sobs in delight as his thighs quiver in their constraints from the frustration.
He loves this part. He loves it as much as he hates it, being stimulated so slowly, so teasingly, that he’s kept on the edge and stuck in that beautiful moment of tension and arousal. He loves the way it’s frustrating and still he can’t do anything about it. Has to take the little bits of pleasure he’s allowed, while he pathetically scrambles for more.
Gradually, the dildo starts fucking him a bit faster, and Wooyoung closes his eyes with a smile on his face. He feels so full whenever it pushes into him, little bursts of arousal pumping through his blood with every move.
Once the dildo has reached a nice speed and rhythm, Wooyoung’s head is already wiped empty. When the suction cup on his dick starts coming to live, too, he’s gone. Completely lost in the throes of pleasure. Being fucked and sucked off at the same time is a feeling that makes everything else pale in comparison.
There’s nothing as good as this. It’s similar to the excitement of being on stage, except he doesn’t have to work, doesn’t have to do anything except for being good and taking it. He can just bask in the feeling of getting overwhelmed, of his heart thumping in his ears and his body being forced into overdrive.
Wooyoung hears the door thud, and absentmindedly understands that his captor has left. It’s always like that. Once the machine is up to speed and working him over nicely, he’s left alone until he’s done for the day.
Wooyoung doesn’t mind. If anything, he’s grateful, because it allows him to really let go. He can moan and writhe as much as he wants to, and nobody will stop him. There’s no way to hold back his moans anyway, not when he’s already so desperate through the overwhelming amount of stimulation.
It feels good enough to light up his whole body. Every muscle pulses with warm, liquid arousal, and Wooyoung closes his eyes to bask in the feeling. He will come because he’ll be forced to. The machine will stimulate him endlessly until he does. It never lets up, thrusts into him again and again, in that steady, deep rhythm that only a machine can manage.
Wooyoung’s body shakes with it as shivers race up and down his spine.
He remembers how scared he was the first time it happened. Nobody told him what was going on, and he’d been crying so much when they’d first turned on the machine. The fucking had felt uncomfortable and strange, too much pressure on his insides even though they were stretched thoroughly enough to prevent any pain. The suction cup had felt close to tearing his skin off his dick. Still, it felt amazing.
Wooyoung had cried and cried as the forced pleasure mudded his thoughts. He didn’t want to feel good, he didn’t want to come, he just wanted to go home, or at least be back with the others! Every inch of his body felt tense and aching, alarm bells ringing inside his head as he got stimulated over and over again.
But in the end, there was no way of escaping. Despite his fear, spikes of arousal had pierced through him, adding up until they were almost suffocating. He never had a chance to begin with. Without being able to do anything to stop it, Wooyoung came. It was the hardest orgasm he’s ever had, cum fucked out of him by the dildo and sucked right into the suction cup with a loud noise as he’d screamed and cried and begged into the empty room.
It’s so much easier now, Wooyoung thinks. To just accept it, to welcome the wicked pleasure, to lean into the way it arouses him to be helpless like this. He whines when he’s about to come and the machine doesn’t go harder on him.
Just once, he wishes for somebody to fuck him for real, fuck him through his orgasm nice and hard, the way he needs it.
But the machine just keeps going at the same steady pace. It will push him through his release eventually, and Wooyoung can neither move into it, nor away. Wooyoung tries to think sexy thoughts to speed up the process, because fuck, he wants to come so badly, he thinks he’s gonna explode if he doesn’t.
The first time he thought about another member fucking him like this, he’d felt extremely guilty. He wasn’t able to look into Yunho’s eyes afterwards. He’s not even sure why it was Yunho, of all people. For some reason, he felt like the safest option. Someone who would care for him, smiling gently, but still shush him when he cried about how he couldn’t take it anymore.
Sh, baby, just let it happen. Just let that nice fat cock push you through it. You and I both know you’re gonna come eventually. You love it so much, don’t you?, Yunho asked inside his head, so gentle, yet so mean. You love to be completely immobile like this. Your body doesn’t belong to you anymore. It’s just there to be played with, again and again. Pushed over the edge until you physically can’t come anymore. Let’s see how long that takes, shall we?
By now, Wooyoung switches it up daily. Sometimes it’s Jongho who’s just watching him from a chair inside the room, enjoying the way he struggles to come or to prevent it, laughing at him.
God, look at you. So pathetic, the way you cry on that plastic dick. Feels good, doesn’t it? You feel good as long as something big stuffs your greedy fucking hole.
Sometimes it’s Seonghwa who would stimulate him cruelly just to pull away in the last second, and slap Wooyoung when he’d complain.
Good boys take what they are given. Who knows? Maybe I’ll never let you come again. Maybe I’ll keep you like this. Right there on the edge. Never able to tumble over. So you better start begging.
When he sees the others again, it’s always a bit weird, but not being able to talk makes it easier. That way, he can’t betray himself. Can’t tell them about all the dirty little things he’s imagined them doing and saying to him.
Sometimes he wonders if the others think about him that way, too. If they fantasize about him, and if it makes them come faster, when it’s their turn. He thinks they do. He’s caught Mingi and Yeosang staring at him and looking away with a blush a couple of times the last week.
Wooyoung’s favourite fantasy, though, is usually San. There’s always been something between them because they just click in every possible aspect. From what they talked about, Wooyoung is pretty sure they would click in bed, too.
He’d imagined a couple of times what it would be like to do it here. To straddle San until his dick slipped inside. Or present his own hole right there for everyone to see. Getting fucked right in front of their friends, their members, their family.
He’d let himself be pushed down by San’s broad figure and cry for the entertainment of everyone else.
Wooyoung moans, louder than before. His neck starts to tingle, a save sign that he’s getting too close. The dildo moving inside him feels bigger, somehow, the closer Wooyoung gets. He whines, high and breathy through the gag, struggling against his binds as he feels the waves of pleasure adding up.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He tries to escape the onslaught of pleasure, but there’s nowhere to go. He’s pushed and pushed and pushed, until everything washes white.
His chest lifts off the chair when he comes. The machine moves on and inside his body, milking him through it, pushing against his prostate again and again and every push seems to make more cum pour out of him. Endorphins flood through his body, as the purple ceiling bursts into colour.
Wooyoung cries out around his gag, letting himself go as his cum is sucked out of his body. He can feel it, feel the way it fills the tube as it shoots out of his cock before it’s sucked right into the machine. He whines, high and pathetic.
His orgasms last longer, when he’s pounded into the ass, but it doesn’t stop overstimulation from setting in eventually.
The pleasure turns into pain scarily fast. Everything flares red, burns hot and torturous, and Wooyoung squirms, tugs against the restraints with all his might. They don’t budge. Keep him right there where the dildo can hit his prostate dead-on.
The first time is always the worst. It feels like a thousand needles prickling his skin where the dildo continues to fuck into him and the suction cup keeps manhandling his poor, spent dick. He’s sensitive everywhere, and prays for that thing to at least slow down, just a little bit, just a bit.
The machine is not turned down, though, and Wooyoung never has another choice but to scream and cry and whimper through the overstimulation, until his body is ready to go again.
In a way, it feels amazing. To be stripped of all his control, tortured and pleasured at the same time, and Wooyoung loves it as much as he hates it.
Sobbing, Wooyoung tries to relax, but his body twitches reflexively. He cries and cries until his throat is raw.
Good thing he doesn’t have to sing anymore, Wooyoung’s hazy mind thinks.
Tears prick his eyes. It’s so hot to have no escape. No matter how much he hates it, he’s forced through it and knows this is only the first one for today. There’s still almost an hour of this left for him.
He has no idea how long it takes, but eventually, pleasure starts to seep back into the pain. Wooyoung is still overly sensitive, every part of his skin highly attuned to the where the machine rubs against him, but it starts being bearable.
It helps to imagine Hongjoong putting him through this, watching him cry through the overstimulation until he’s turned on enough to make it feel good again.
You’re real pretty when you cry. Cry a bit harder for me, hm? Should I turn it up a bit more? It’s so hot to watch you struggle.
Wooyoung shudders. With a couple of deep breaths, he can relax again.
Although there’s no way to tell time, he has a pretty good feeling by now when he’ll be released and led back again. It usually takes him about four orgasms to get there, the last one just a small trickle of sperm, almost painful but still rewarding.
The first one is always the most intense.
Now, Wooyoung sinks into a fluffy headspace. He drifts off into a place, where his members tell him how good he does, what a good slut he is, how nice his hole feels.
Wooyoung smiles around the gag as he waits for his second orgasm.
By the time the fourth orgasm finally approaches, Wooyoung’s throat feels parched. All of his body is raw, muscles tired from all the tensing and releasing. His hole can’t even clench down anymore, just opens for the intrusion of the big black dildo welcomingly.
The machine doesn’t care. It just keeps fucking him and pumping around his dick as if it wants to squeeze even the last drops of cum out of him.
Wooyoung wants to orgasm again so desperately.
He’s just getting close when the door clicks open again. With a whine and pleading eyes, he begs his captor to wait just a couple more minutes. He’s almost there.
But his captor ignores him. He walks over to the machine and checks what Wooyoung assumes is how much cum he’s produced today. Since the last orgasm barely adds anything, Wooyoung already knows that he won’t be allowed to come one last time.
He’ll be sent back overstimulated, and worn out, and desperate for release. The thought sends a shudder through him.
Whoever comes back is usually cuddled by at least one of the other members. It’s a ritual that started almost immediately, a quiet comfort and console. Even with the gags, they have found a couple of noises to communicate with, at least to do simple things like check in.
A high grunt means “Are you okay?”, while a low one means “I’m fine.” What a sob in response means can be anybody’s guess.
Today, Wooyoung thinks he’ll answer with a sigh. It’s no use either way. San will cuddle him and Wooyoung will try not to think about the way his dick is itching, or he might just start rutting against one of the mattresses on the ground. Or against San. Wooyoung’s face flares red.
Breathing heavily through his nose, Wooyoung closes his eyes as the machine stops. The dildo pulls out of him with a wet noise, and it’s as relieving as it’s frustrating to feel empty again. He waits until the restraints are gone, too tired to do anything else.
He couldn’t fight if he wanted to. San keeps doing daily workouts, and they all join him every once in a while, but Wooyoung thinks it’s no use. They’ll never be able to overpower them. Not as long as their hands are tied like that.
Honestly, Wooyoung is not sure if he wants to.
It’s not a great life, but it’s a life. No pressure to perform, no pain. Just one hour a day where he can completely shut off his mind and live inside a fantasy world where everything just feels good.
When all restraints are gone, an arm comes around Wooyoung’s body to support him back to his feet. He needs it. After those sessions, he always feels wobbly. Maybe he should join San more often in his workouts. He will today.
He’s led back over the fingering bench, strapped down once more. A warm, wet rug swipes over his ass to clean it thoroughly of all the resident lube inside his body. It aches, the inside of his hole swollen and tender, but the relief when he’s clean again is worth it.
Then it’s time to go back. Wooyoung’s hands once again sit on his lower back, bound together, gag still in his mouth, as he’s walked down the hallway back into his cell.
His heart flutters lightly. He’s looking forward to the comfort the other members will provide him with.
The captor turns the big wheel on the iron door, that keeps reminding Wooyoung of an old vault, and the door swings open. Yunho is already waiting, knowing he’ll be next, when Wooyoung stumbles over the doorstep. His body is covered in the same blush all of them are in when they come back, and Wooyoung still feels embarrassed by it.
It’s a quiet exchange. Yunho’s eyes meet his for a moment, and Wooyoung sees something inside of them he can’t define.
When he doesn’t move, he’s pushed further into the room and falls with a grunt, stumbling onto one of the mattresses.
Wooyoung simply closes his eyes where he comes to lie. There’s no need to move around. He can rest right here.
This is his life now. Wooyoung takes a deep breath and releases it along with the tension inside his body.
It’s quiet, for a long moment. Too quiet. Wooyoung doesn’t know what it is that’s missing, but something is missing.
“Why is the TV off?”, the captor mutters, and Wooyoung thinks – ah, yeah, that.
Wooyoung doesn’t know why, so he doesn’t bother to answer.
He deserves to rest for a bit, after all.
Suddenly, all lights turn off. It’s pitch-black from one moment to the next, and Wooyoung is back up again in a heartbeat.
What’s happening? This has never happened before. Even in the night, there’s always a faint light glowing inside their room. Is this a power outage? Or…?
Wooyoung’s heart beats faster. Blood rushes in his ears.
Could it be? Could that really be…?
Everything happens too fast. The quiet is torn apart by shouting, beams of flashlights running over the walls outside their room. There are heavy footsteps, a panicked scream that’s coming from inside this room, and Wooyoung just hopes it wasn’t one of the members.
He only sees glimpses of limbs flailing, fighting, and then gunshots blast through the silence. Wooyoung screams and scrambles into the wall, trying to hide. His heart is thundering against his ribcage.
Something slumps to the floor, dark and heavy. Light flashes into Wooyoung’s face, and he makes himself as small as he can.
“Jung Wooyoung? Your name is Jung Wooyoung, right? We’re from the Korean police. You’re safe.” The woman talks to him with a deep, calm voice.
Tears flood over Wooyoung’s cheeks before he can stop them. This can’t be real. This can’t be real.
The woman smiles. “Everything is fine now. You’re free. Everything’s fine.”
Wooyoung cries harder.
He’s free. Finally, after all this time, he’s free.
And he never felt so empty.
Months later, when Wooyoung comes back to the dorm, he strips right after the front door closes. His underwear is the last to join the puddle on the floor before he struts towards the backroom. Now that they share rooms again, they have quite a bit of leftover space.
Today, Yeosang is the first to greet him with a smile and a gag in his hand. “How was your day?”, he asks as Wooyoung moves inside and walks over to the chair. It looks different to the bunker they’ve been locked in, but Wooyoung likes it that way.
“Exhausting”, he says, before he opens his mouth so Yeosang can guide the gag inside. It fastens around his face and Wooyoung’s eyes close.
Yeosang kisses him on the cheek. “Then you can relax now. San will take care of you later, hm?”
Wooyoung smiles around the gag as Yeosang straps him to the chair.
Excitement curls through him. But this time without the guilt.
Because after all, they’ve been through this together.