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shadow_vector2010-07-19 08:42 am
Chains and Desires
Bayverse
Barricade
tactile, dubcon
Yeah, this is part two of this highly improbable bit of defloration kink, in which our hero wakes up to find himself chained by a mysterious captor. It's like my first time writing tactile so it probably sucks.
“Who are you?” Barricade asked, twitching away from the ghost touch.
“You have no idea?” the voice seemed amused. He felt another fuzzy touch on his EM field. “Does it bother you that you have no idea?”
Frag yes, it did! If he knew who it was he might negotiate his way out. If he knew who it was, he’d know what to do. But the voice timbre had no matches. The speech pattern was unique, though. “Know who you are, Starscream,” he blustered. It had to be him. No one else spoke that way. “Using a vocoder isn’t going to fool me.”
A laugh. “What if that’s not all I’ve done?” And like that, he didn’t sound like Starscream at all. He shivered.
“Just pretending now,” Barricade foundered. He’d committed to it being Starscream. But…why would Starscream do this? He had no motive. Frag. Not like anyone really needed a motive. He still wasn’t sure what the motive was: kill him? Humiliate him?
“What if I was pretending before?”
Barricade had no answer for that. He twisted in the chains, feeling one grate against the axle in his wrist.
Hands closed around his hips again, metal clanging against metal. He felt digits probe at his armor. “Tough for one so small,” the mech said, pushing against his armor plating. The hand withdrew and a half-klik later Barricade felt a white knife across his sensornet as the hand slapped down upon his armor. The white surge pierced through the strange pastel ripples from the lighter touches. Barricade bit down on a surprised gasp.
The mech gave a satisfied sound. “Very tough.”
Frag. Oh frag. He’s going to kill me, Barricade thought. Don’t…be scared. Don’t let it show. “Tougher than you since you needed to tie me up.”
“Needed to? Wanted to.” The hands slid up from his hips, thumbs tracing lines under his fender. “Look at all of this unguarded area.”
Barricade squirmed, kicking out feebly with one of his knees.
“Now, do you really want me to stop?” The hands coaxed a silver sparkle across Barricade’s net, flicking into the join of his arms. Reminding me, Barricade thought, of my vulnerabilities. Of all those points he can cause me pain.
Barricade gritted his teeth. “Get it over with.”
Another laugh. “Now, Barricade,” it purred, “where’s the fun in that?” The hands returned gliding up his back, tugging and pinching at his door wings.
Barricade twisted hard to one side, trying to pull himself from the infuriating caresses. He tried to snarl, but the sound got tangled in his vocalizer and came out as a whimper. He heard the slow heavy steps of the mech circling around him, one hand still n a door wing, tweaking it as he moved. He whipped his head from side to side, knowing he couldn’t see, knowing it was useless, but desperate to capture any data that might help him identify his captor.
He jolted at the electrical tingle of a glossa between his doorwings, feeling the gentle fuzz of EM against both of the glass panels. His sensornet fired again wildly, a mix of fear and apprehension and that strange insatiable longing. His entire body seemed to echo the staticky prickle of the glossa’s touch. He felt his head drop back, as if suddenly the throat actuators failed. His vents picked up, his hands once again bunching uselessly overhead, the soft clinking of the chains the only sound over ragged ventilation.
The glossa left the light armor of the back, trailing along a doorwing’s edge. Barricade’s entire body trembled, cascades of feedback silver and rose and somehow deep crashing through him. He tugged against the chains, desperately, the hands and mouth continuing their explorations, slipping into gaps in his armor, sliding over the sleek plates, charge rising against charge.
He writhed, trying to protest, but the words were truncated, sliced short by the impossibly intense sensations. “What…!” he gasped, then groaned, his sensornet spiraling with fantastic colors, his entire frame seeming to swim in an ocean of something he could only call pleasure.
The ocean swelled, waves cresting higher and higher, pushing him inexorably toward …something. He didn’t know what, only that his frame, his systems, had turned on him and craved these maddening touches—the gentle ones, the hard ones—wanted them all, wanted to be rushed headlong, without thought, without analysis, toward something huge and primal.
He cried out, head thrown back, piercing the air with his vocalizer, his entire body going rigid, crackling, sparkling with charge. His processor burst into white fireworks, his core temp spiking. Oh, Primus what…was this?
He collapsed against the chains, feeling one slice through an energon line, feeling the hot trickle up his wrist, but the signals were mixed and instead of pain it felt like some delicious rare pleasure. Even more when he felt the electric flick of the other mech’s glossa tracing up the thin dribbled line. The thought of this mech drinking his energon stirred something feral inside him but his body was limp and heavy with desire.
“Good,” the voice whispered, dark and silky. And Barricade felt a tension and then release overhead, the chains that bound his wrists grew slack. His knees gave, and the other mech caught him, lowering him to the floor.
“Who are you?” he whispered back, vocalizer still cracking with static from the violence of the overload that had torn through his systems. His limbs were too weak to respond, his EM field flaring and erratic.
“Oh no, Barricade. I am not going to tell you.” One hand smoothed down his legs. “I want you to wonder. I want you to look at every larger framed mech and ask yourself ‘was it him?’ ‘were those the hands?’, ’was that the voice?’, ‘did he see me open and wanton and squirming?’” Barricade moaned, his blind optics blinkering as a fresh wash of desire ran across his net. “’Who’,” the voice continued, and the EM field compressed him from the front and Barricade felt the glossa flirt across his electrum mouth plates, “’did this to me?’” A sound of motion, the EM pulling away. The voice was distant and strange. “You’ll find your vid has been blanked by a simple disruptor. Easy enough to disable once you free your hands.”
And then footsteps retreating into the suddenly velvety silence, and Barricade lay, trembling, caught in the terrible knowledge that whatever had happened, he wanted it to happen again.
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But maybe he'll have to investigate to find out! ^___~
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Very brilliantly-written piece!
(Yeah, I know, I have stories to catch up on since my absence. .__.)
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Hope that's positive?
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That icon is stolen shamelessly from deviantART, where it keeps getting banned for being too epilepsy-inducing. So far it's been ultralascrollplz, eyecancerplz, and forbiddenlaplz.
It will be back. XD
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