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Aventurine hates his collar. Hates the way the leather bites into his neck; just tight enough to be uncomfortable. Hates the way the golden name tag on it rests atop his skin, the metal cold and humiliating in its purpose. Hates the leash attached to it and the way Sunday pulls on it just to watch him squirm.
He hates his collar, and he hates Sunday for putting it around his neck. But there's nothing he can do about it — especially not with the digital lock on the buckle that requires a six digit code to open. The collar has been strategically angled so the lock is around the back of his head, so there's no conceivable way to try and get the code... not that he'd be able to see what's directly below his chin, anyway. So the collar remains on.
The leash is tugged without warning; a sharp movement that has Aventurine lurching in the direction of the pull. Sunday laughs lowly and pulls again just to make Aventurine suffer.
"Come here, Kakavasha," Sunday says, and Aventurine's face flushes pink as he's made to crawl ever nearer to his tormentor. He ends up slumped against the outer side of Sunday's leg, physically unable to move any closer even as the leash continues to be pulled. He's careful to angle himself so he doesn't choke, but it's still unpleasant.
"Cute." Sunday ruffles Aventurines hair — something he does often. It's just the right mix of dehumanizing, humiliating, and affectionate. "But that's not what I meant. Come here, Kakavasha." He pats his thigh, and Aventurine bites back an insult.
Keenly aware of just how humiliating this is, Aventurine climbs up onto Sunday's lap, straddling it and trying not to think about his naked state compared to Sunday's fully-clothed one. It's just another reminder that Aventurine will never be anything more than Sunday's pet ever again. As he settles into place, Sunday fiddles with the name tag on his collar, tilting it this way and that and admiring its handiwork.
Nothing is said for a time, but then Sunday pulls on the leash again, forcing Aventurine to lean down ever so slightly until his eyes are level with Sunday's.
"Show your devotion to me," Sunday says, and Aventurine reluctantly obeys. He presses a kiss to Sunday's lips, keeping it chaste unless instructed otherwise. The leash loosens enough for him to have some more freedom to move, but Aventurine knows better than to pull away as he continues what's now a routine he knows by heart.
One kiss to Sunday's lips, then one for each corner of his mouth. A trail from tip to base for each wing. A press of his forehead to Sunday's own and a murmured I love you. Then another kiss to Sunday's lips. A form of worship, but also of submission — for what is more debasing than being forced to lavish your captor with affection?
The routine is completed seamlessly, and Sunday smiles against the final kiss. "Very well done, Kakavasha," he murmurs, and Aventurine gasps softly as the leash is pulled taut again. "Stay. Stay, and follow my touch."
As he speaks, Sunday's hand comes to a rest between Aventurine's shoulder blades and pushes down. Recalling the orders given, Aventurine allows himself to be moved until his body is pressed up against Sunday's own. With a simple tap on his shoulder, he wraps his arms around Sunday, humiliation simmering beneath his skin as he's made to embrace his tormentor like a lover, or perhaps a devotee.
As Aventurine's chin settles on Sunday's shoulder, the latter commands again, voice barely a breath, "Show your devotion, Kakavasha."
"I love you," Aventurine whispers past the degradation and shame of it all, and he rocks his hips down, grinding against the beginnings of Sunday's arousal. "I love you, and I'm yours. I'll follow you to the ends of the universe."
"Mnh... keep going." Sunday's fingers dig into Aventurine's hips hard enough that they'll definitely leave bruises, but Aventurine doesn't complain. He's not allowed to.
"You're so good to me," Aventurine murmurs, brushing a kiss to the side of Sunday's neck. His words are as disingenuous as they come, but he knows how to sell something that doesn't exist. He rolls his hips again, gasping quietly when Sunday grabs his hips and drags them up. He hears a zipper and the rustling of fabric, followed by the brush of Sunday's cockhead against his hole.
Immediately, Aventurine tenses up. There's been no preparation for this — it'll hurt like hell going in, and he might bleed. Sunday notices his apprehension and hums. "I'll be gentle," he promises, and then his cock is pressing up against and then into Aventurine.
The effect is immediate. Aventurine howls in agony, shaking and crying as inch after inch fills him up. His fists clench around handfuls of Sunday's jacket, and he can barely breathe through the pain, let alone think. Sunday has a firm grip on his hips, slowly but surely pushing him down and forcing him to just take it.
"S-Sunday," Aventurine gasps wetly as he writhes in place, sobbing as he finally, finally manages to take all of Sunday in. Sunday hums, one hand moving to rub soothing circles into the small of Aventurine's back.
"It's alright," he says softly. Gently. "You've done well. You've done so well. All I want is for you to warm my cock for a bit, and then you can rest, alright?"
"Uh-huh," Aventurine manages to say, still weeping at the way he's been stretched and abused. It hurts. Aeons, it hurts. He wasn't ready for this at all... but Sunday said he's doing well. It's only right that he continues to be good, isn't it?
"I love you," Aventurine whimpers, and his thighs clench around Sunday's hips. "It hurts — I love you—"
"I know," Sunday says soothingly, as if reassuring an abandoned puppy that he won't leave it too. "I know it hurts, and I know you love me. It'll get better, Kakavasha. You'll get used to the pain."
Aventurine only sobs, unable to tear his thoughts away from the utter agony his lower half is in. "I'm sorry," he gasps between sobs. "I'm sorry I can't be good, and that I'm complaining..."
"Shh." Sunday's hands return to Aventurine's hips, grinding them down and angling them this way and that. Aventurine yelps with each change, clinging to Sunday for dear life as the pain is only made worse. "You're afraid, aren't you? Afraid that you'll break?" Sunday gives an amused hum. "It's alright to break, Kakavasha. I'll be here to catch you."
"I don't — I don't wanna—" Aventurine tries to protest, mind racing and panic setting in. No. No, not like this. He doesn't want to break like this! He's in so much pain, but it can't end here, even if his ruination is only temporary. "Don't wanna — break — nhh-no! Wait—!"
Sunday must have disapproved of his refusal, since how Aventurine's hips are being lifted up, up, up — and then slammed down with an agony that has him screaming. He's panicking in earnest now, his entire body trembling and his mind racing at a mile a minute, but Sunday won't let him go.
And that's when Aventurine feels the pull of the leash. He's unable to react in time, and the next thing he knows, he's choking. Sunday strangles him with his own collar, unrelenting as he deprives his captive of air. Aventurine coughs and gasps in vain, straining to follow the pull of the lead in hopes of some leniency. However, Sunday keeps him pressed up against his body. Unable to breathe and trapped in a hellish hold, Aventurine's eyes roll back in his head, and he passes out.
He comes to curled up in Sunday's bed, where the Halovian sits beside him and runs his fingers through his hair. He's still wearing his collar, and a soft whimper escapes him at the pain he still feels in his lower half.
"Ah, you're awake." Sunday turns and takes Aventurine's hand in both of his own. "How are you feeling, Kakavasha? Are you calm now?"
Blearily, Aventurine nods. "Mhmmn—!" He ends up coughing and gasping for air, wincing at the pain in his throat. He uncurls his aching body—
“Ngh—?!”
Aventurine makes a strangled sound as something shifts inside him, suddenly keenly aware of each and every press of it against his inner walls. The effect is immediate: every muscle in his body tenses up, his eyes fly wide open, and he instinctively reaches down to pull whatever the offending object is out of him. Sunday grabs his wrists before he does, however, and clicks his tongue disapprovingly.
“That’s no way to thank someone for their help,” Sunday says to him, and there’s a warning note in his tone that has Aventurine cringing. “You were in so much pain earlier… I went out of my way to gift you something that would prevent such suffering later down the line, and the first thing you do is try and remove it?” His eyes narrow. “I never took you as the ungrateful type, Kakavasha. Perhaps my kindness was misplaced.”
Aventurine’s blood turns cold in his veins. “Wait,” he gasps out, grabbing onto Sunday’s arm and pulling it close. “I’m sorry, I — I was just surprised is all. The last thing I remember was being in pain, a-and I thought it was still happening — I didn’t realize you’d given me a gift—“
Sunday smiles down at him, and Aventurine shivers at the sadistic amusement he finds in the Halovian’s golden eyes. “I see,” Sunday says. “In that case, I’ll forgive your actions.”
“Thank you,” Aventurine breathes, and his mind drifts to what’s no doubt some manner of sex toy inside him. It’s big; almost as big as Sunday’s cock, and there’s some manner of flared base connected to straps that encircle his thighs to keep it from coming out. It keeps him stretched and sore, and the tip presses against his prostate to the point of pain, but he can’t complain. Not now, not in this precarious moment.
“You still love me, don’t you?” Sunday presses, and Aventurine nods.
“I do,” he whispers. “I love you.”
“That’s good,” Sunday replies. “Now… try not to make too much of a mess, alright?” Before Aventurine can ask him what he means, the toy inside him roars to life and vibrates at an agonizing frequency.
Not for the first time tonight, Aventurine screams.