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The ballroom is busy. The lights are low, and the band plays soft music, just audible over the chatter of patrons sipping expensive wines. Garish sequined masks sit on their faces, and Astarion rolls his eyes at the cliche.
Everyone at Cazador’s parties knew each other, there was no way in without knowing at least two of the other guests. Cazador had designed it that way, making sure only those degenerate enough to turn a blind eye to his vampirism and its powers over his spawn could enter. The masks were an illusion of anonymity.
Of course, it was only him and his siblings without them.
Cazador had left them naked, except from thick posture collars around their necks, the leather dyed a rich burgundy to match Cazador’s evening doublet. The same gold thread that detailed his clothes lined their collars too, and Astarion feels bile rising in his throat each time a guest compliments the craftsmanship. He’s sure the leathersmith is here in the room somewhere, Cazador sought his services enough to think twice about snobbing him.
A tight ribbon is tied to the back of the collars, attached firmly to thick steel hooks deep in the spawns’ rectums, forcing their spines upright. Cazador didn’t have time to correct their postures all evening, afterall.
Astarion can feel the metal with each step, trying his best to keep his gait natural as he brings trays upon trays of champagne to the guests. He gives his best giggle as they compliment his body, hatred swirling in his stomach as he reminds them he is available all evening, should they wish to indulge.
Gods, he wants to poison their drinks.
His ears twitch as he steps away, the wood floor cold against his bare feet.
He tenses around the hook as he comes chest-to-chest with the guest behind him, the silver tray pressed between their bodies.
“Careful, sweetheart,” The party-goer hums, and Astarion feels a chill up his spine.
He recognises that voice.
He looks up, fingers tensing on the metal as he catches the familiar, black eyes of the goliath he had met months ago.
“Daddy,” He says, simply, the name slipping from his tongue before he can think to stop it. Of course Cazador would invite him back to another party. Astarion could tell he is rich from the quality of his clothes, and his sire loved making friends with noble families.
Daddy hums above him, pleased. He tilts Astarion’s chin, keeping their gazes locked, “Why has your master got you out here, hm? You’re hardly suited for butler work.” He says, “No, no, this just won’t do. Let us get you back to the boudoir where you belong.”
Astarion doesn’t reply.
He follows Daddy silently, face expressionless as he leads them to where Cazador sits, his goblet being filled by Petras. He tunes out their voices, staring unblinkingly at the embroidery on the back of Daddy’s doublet, trying to will down the panic bubbling in his chest.
God knows what they have planned. Last time, Daddy had practically turned him inside-out. He bled into his smallclothes for three whole days after he left. Cazador had enjoyed every second of his humiliation. Had called it his period each time he spotted the stains.
He swallows, and it gets stuck against the collar.
“Listen to me, boy,” Cazador commands, and Astarion is brought back into the room by the vice-like grip on his mind. Cazador sips his drink, waving his hand dismissively, “Show our guest to the boudoir. You shall be entertaining him tonight.”
Astarion bows slightly, as much as the hook and collar will allow, “Yes, master.”
“Once you’re done with him, return him to the ballroom,” Cazador says, directing his attention to Daddy once more, “No matter what state he is in.”
“Of course,” Daddy says. Astarion wants to vomit.
He takes a breath that he doesn’t need, settling into character. His eyelids droop, and his lips part seductively, and he lays his hand out for the goliath before him to take. “Shall we?” He purrs, holding Daddy’s fingers.
The walk to the bedroom is mindless.
He opens the heavy door for Daddy, bowing to invite him inside.
Daddy wraps a thick hand around his arm, and tugs him towards the bed.
“Such a pretty thing, you are,” He hums, the sound deep in his throat. He draws his fingers across the collar, his well kept nails catching on the stitching, “I knew this colour would look good on you.”
Astarion blinks, the words processing slowly under the fear flooding his brain.
“You did?” He breathes, Daddy's hand tilting his head back, exposing the slither of his neck beneath the tall leather.
“I did,” he replies simply.
Astarion’s gut churns. That's how Cazador knows this bastard. He's the fucking leathersmith.
How many times had Astarion been bound by his works? He dreads to think.
Astarion smirks up at him, finding his character again, “Well, thank you. I do appreciate when the Master gives gifts like these. I like to look good.”
Daddy chuckles, “I can tell, sweetheart.” He nudges Astarion's shoulder, pushing him towards the bed. “Hands and knees.”
Astarion nods quickly, positioning himself on the mattress, balling his fists into the silk. He can hear Daddy step closer, and he forces out a moan as he feels a tug on the hook.
“Look at you, pink and puckered around this thing,” Daddy coos, teasing the steel. He ducks his head, and Astarion cannot help the squeal that slips from him as Daddy laps at his muscle, nestling his tongue in beside the hook.
He licks greedily, his big hands cradling Astarion's cheeks, pulling them apart to press his tongue deeper. The heavy bulb of the hook ruts against Astarion's prostate, and Daddy chuckles as a thick bead of precum dribbles onto the bed.
“You love it, don't you? Being filled,” Daddy grunts, dipping a finger in alongside the metal.
Astarion blushes. He had loved bottoming, once. Before Cazador. That was a long time ago, now.
He swallows, getting back into character, “Yes, Daddy.” He bites his lip, “It's all I'm good for.”
Daddy laughs through his nose, “I can see that.” He idly rocks the hook, teasing the ribbon keeping it in place, “What's the most you've ever taken?”
Astarion looks back over his shoulder, “Largest, or in-a-row?” He asks. He bats his eyelashes, for good measure.
Daddy chuckles again, “Little slut, you are, boy.” He pushes a second finger in next to the metal, “Largest.”
Astarion bats his eyelashes, “You, Daddy.” He catches Daddy raise a questioning eyebrow, and he makes his voice breathy, just the way he knows his marks love, “Your hand, your fingers are so big.”
Daddy chuckles again, “I suppose so.” He withdraws his fingers, slowly pulling the hook back, “I think you can take more in that pretty cunt of yours, though.”
Astarion's heart sinks. He curls his fingers into the sheets, swallowing to keep his voice steady, “Do you really think so?”
Daddy nods, watching Astarion's hole as he pulls the hook free, his pink ring tensing around nothing. “I do, boy.” He draws a big hand down Astarion's spine, “Ass up, head down, curve your back.”
Astarion does as he is told.
He squeezes his eyes shut as Daddy thuds around the room, knowing he's collecting one of the bottles of oil from it's place on the nightstand from the soft clink of the glass. The smell always makes him panic.
He braces himself for Daddy's fingers.
Instead, he gasps as the bottle is up-ended, the thin spout pushed into his hole.
The oil is ice cold as it spills into his guts, and Astarion cannot help the shocked, shuddering moan that falls from his lips. He curls his toes, each minute movement of his hips making more lubricant flow into him, painting his insides. He can feel it sloshing in his stomach.
What was Daddy about to do to him that he needed this much lube?
Astarion swallows, forcing himself to chuckle, “Why so much, Daddy?” He breathes, feeling cold dribbles leak down his taint.
“You'll thank me when you figure it out,” Daddy grunts, tugging the bottle free once it is emptied.
Astarion buries his head back into the mattress. The stench of the oil is making his heart race, the feel of it collecting in his belly making him sick. He has no idea what the fuck Daddy is going to do to him.
His fingers plunge in without warning.
Astarion tenses at the intrusion, his thighs shaking as he forces himself not to move.
“You're wetter than a woman now,” Daddy laughs, gripping Astarion's hip with his free hand. He's rocks three fingers in, and out, pressing them deep into Astarion, “Fuck, look at you, pulling me in.”
Astarion nods, pushing out each time Daddy presses in. He focuses on breathing, even if he doesn't need to, each outward breath making him relax around Daddy's thick fingers.
He knows a fourth is going to be forced into him, whether he's ready or not. He wants to be as prepared as he can.
Daddy lines up his pinkie, and Astarion pushes a moan from his throat as it's thrust into him. He rocks his body with Daddy's thrusts, toes curling. He grits his teeth, fangs pressing into his gums.
Then, he feels Daddy nestle his thumb against his palm, and Astarion's mouth falls open as he pushes that in too.
“Oh Gods!” Astarion cries, mouth hanging open as Daddy fucks his hand into Astarion's hole. The heel of his hand is so thick as it tugs his rim, and Astarion's vision fizzles into black as he feels Daddy's fingertips pry open his colon. “It's too much!” He gasps, yelping as Daddy spanks his arse.
Daddy's hand pops into him completely, and Astarion sobs against the mattress.
His fingers slip violently against Astarion's second hole, bullying it open as Astarion heaves in deep breaths, urging his body to relax. His hole hugs Daddy's wrist, quivering around him.
“Mercy, please…” Astarion whimpers, his legs shaking as he struggles to stay upright.
Daddy presses further forward, and Astarion's knees buckle, and give way altogether.
“Poor lamb,” Daddy coos, sarcastically, flipping Astarion onto his back, his hand still deep in his rectum, fucking open his sensitive walls. “Look at you.” He growls, and Astarion swallows as he lifts his head, following Daddy's gaze down to his stomach, flesh distended by Daddy's hand.
Astarion whimpers again, gripping the bedsheets as Daddy keeps pressing forward, watching as his arm slithers deeper. He feels each finger again working him open from the inside, worming into his guts until Astarion feels the tell-tale sign of the tip of his thumb, and the stretch of his knuckles.
Tears spill down his cheeks as he shakes his head, gasping out sobs as he's split open around Daddy's hand, the oil making his hand easily pop in past his sigmoid. His sensitive rim swallows more of Daddy's thick, muscular arm, and Astarion feels a scream rip from his throat as Daddy continues moving forward.
“Such beautiful noises, boy,” he growls, and Astarion does his best to clamp his mouth shut, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Look, fairy. Watch as you take my elbow.”
Astarion lifts his head again, struggling to focus his eyes through his tears.
Daddy's arm is bulging his stomach, and Astarion can see slim lines of blood drizzling across Daddy's skin. He bites his lip and balls his hands into fists as Daddy's elbow pops in with a jolt, his head spinning from the agony of the deep insertion.
He lays himself back down, bile rising in his throat. Daddy presses on, and Astarion's vision blurs again as he stretches wider.
“Now, the fun bit,” Daddy hums, rubbing oil onto his bicep. He kneels, gripping Astarion's hip and pinning him in place. “Can you feel me in your intestines? Straightening them out?”
Astarion squeezes his eyes shut, another choked cry slipping from his mouth.
Daddy spanks him again, “Answer me.”
Astarion nods, frantically, swallowing until his voice returns, “I feel you. I feel you, Daddy.” Tears roll down his cheeks, and he can't help the sob of pain as Daddy relentlessly continues. “Please stop. Please. I can't take much more.”
“Sure you can, honeyboy.” Daddy chimes, “I know you're a vampire spawn. You'll heal up.” He rocks his arm, and Astarion wails again, “So you'll take everything I give you. And you'll thank me for it, won't you?”
Astarion gurgles in reply, feeling his guts writhe and tense around the intrusion.
“Thank me for this.” Daddy demands, twisting his hand inside Astarion and making him sob, “Or else I'll tell your master about your insolence.”
“Thank you!” Astarion cries. His body quivers, his limbs numb. He can feel Daddy's coarse armpit hair on his arse. He chances a quick look, his head spinning, and feels faint as he realises Daddy has his entire arm inside his cunt. He collapses back onto the bed, chest heaving as he cries. “Thank you, thank you. Thank you, Daddy. Thank you for filling me. Please don't tell my Master. I'll be good.”
Daddy chuckles, shifting to stroke Astarion's cock. He's flaccid from the pain.
“Cum for me, and I won't.” Daddy says.
Astarion nods again, fixing his gaze on the ceiling as Daddy strokes him, his penis plumping in his hand.
He's faked orgasms before. It doesn't take much to spill over Daddy's thick fingers.
“Fuck, good boy,” Daddy says. He feeds Astarion's cum back to him, and Astarion makes a show of licking his digits, holding his wrist.
He falters as Daddy begins to pull out.
It's unbearable again, another howling cry ripped from his undead lungs as Daddy's hand pops back out of his colon, and then his puffy hole.
He prolapses as Daddy yanks his arm free, his rose blooming wetly in Daddy's palm.
He didn't even need to push it out this time.
Astarion feels faint. He can't move as Daddy teases open his rose, pulling it out even further, enough to wrap his hand around.
He feels Daddy's cockhead press into his swirl, and Astarion is motionless as Daddy masturbates using his tender, slippery prolapse.
He wakes up to Daddy's orgasm- thick, warm, and deep inside his ruined cunt.
“Thank you, Daddy.” Astarion says, weakly.
“You're welcome.” Daddy replies, smirking.
He slips a finger into the D-ring on Astarion's collar, hoisting him up onto his feet.
Astarion's legs shake violently as Daddy holds him in place, grabbing Daddy's wrist as if to support himself. He watches- wide-eyed- as Daddy retrieves the hook from it's place discarded on the bed, whimpering under his breath as Daddy lines it up with his wrecked hole.
His prolapse is still hanging out of him as Daddy eases the hook in, his red flesh standing out against the shining metal. It's cold.
“There you go.” Daddy says, “Now you can show everyone in the ballroom how easy you are. I'm sure your Master would love to see you like this.”
Astarion nods, tears staining his cheeks, “Yes, Daddy.”