Lance could only nod, a weak, jerky motion, his forehead scraping against the wood. The fingers inside him curled, probing, finding that spot that made his knees buckle.
A high, choked whine escaped his lips.
"Use your words when you are spoken to, boy."
"Y-yes, Sir. Understood.." Lance panted, his voice strained.
The fingers withdrew with a wet pop.
Lance braced himself, hearing the distinct, low hum of the vibrator being activated.
The sound was menacing. Ansel pressed the cold, hard plastic tip against his loosened entrance. "This is to ensure you don't get too comfortable. You will feel every single inch of me."
He pushed it in. The vibration was on its lowest setting, a deep, throbbing buzz that resonated through his entire lower body.
"Mmmmph."
Lance's moan was strangled, his hips pushing back instinctively, seeking more of the sensation.
Ansel twisted the dial, the buzz intensifying sharply, climbing to a punishing, high-frequency that blurred Lance's vision.
"Oh god, oh fuck…"
It was all vibration, a relentless internal massage directly on his prostate, tearing sounds from his throat he didn't recognize.
"Please, Sir, it's so… fuck…" he begged, his composure shattering under the electric pleasure.
"I did not give you permission to speak."
Before Lance could process the command, he felt a new, terrifying sensation. Something cold and hard, beaded like a string of pearls, was pressed against the tip of his cock.
He flinched, trying to pull away, but Ansel's grip on his hip was iron.
"Hold still." The command was absolute. A fresh glob of hot lube was squirted onto his slit, the sensation making him yelp.
Then, with relentless, slow pressure, Ansel began to feed the beaded rod into his urethra. It was an invasion unlike any other, a sharp, stinging fullness that traveled deep into his shaft.
"Nnnngh!"
Lance gritted his teeth, a tear escaping the corner of his eye as the last bead disappeared inside him, a constant, unmissable pressure in his most sensitive channel.
He was stretched and filled in ways he hadn't known were possible, the vibrator roaring beast in his ass, the rod a rigid line of fire in his cock.
He was moaning uncontrollably, a continuous stream of "ohgodohfuckohyes" pouring from his lips.
Ansel's hand fisted in his hair, yanking his head back sharply. "I said shut up." Two fingers, slick with spit from God knows where, were shoved deep into Lance's mouth, gagging him.
The taste of latex and his own spit flooded his tongue. He could only groan around the intrusion, his pleas reduced to muffled, desperate sounds.
Then he felt it. The blunt, massive head of Ansel's cock, nudging against his overstimulated hole, right beside the humming vibrator. The pressure was immense.
"You feel that, Lance?" Ansel growled, his voice thick with lust. "That's my fucking cock. And you're going to take all of it. Every. Last. Inch."
He pushed. The stretch was monumental, a blinding, white-hot pain that instantly morphed into the most profound, devouring pleasure Lance had ever felt.
The wet, sucking sound of his body being forced to accommodate Ansel's girth was deafening. The vibrator was pressed even deeper, buzzing violently against his prostate as Ansel's cock forged a path alongside it.
Lance screamed around the fingers in his mouth, his body convulsing, impaled and utterly possessed.
Ansel didn't wait for him to adjust. He set a brutal, piston-like rhythm, each thrust a thwack of flesh against flesh, each withdrawal a wet squelsh before he plunged back in.
The combined sensations were catastrophic: the vibrating torment in his ass, the deep, claiming drag of Ansel's cock, the cruel, beaded rod preventing his own release.
His muffled moans became pleas, begging words forming around Ansel's fingers. "Pleash… nngh… cum… pleash…"
Ansel leaned over him, his breath hot on Lance's ear. "You want to come, you greedy little fuckhole?" he snarled, never breaking his punishing pace. "You can't. Not until I say so. This is your punishment. You're my fucking sleeve. My warm, tight hole to use until I am satisfied. And I am far from done with you."
He fucked him harder, deeper, the desk creaking under their combined weight.
Lance could feel his orgasm building, a tsunami of pressure with no outlet, agony and ecstasy coiling tighter and tighter in his balls, trapped by the unyielding rod.
He was sobbing now, tears streaming down his face, his body a live wire of sensation, completely at the mercy of the man destroying him.
"Please, Sir.." he begged, the words finally coherent as he spit out the fingers, his voice ragged and broken. "Please, let me come. I need it. I need to fucking cum so bad…"
Ansel's hand wrapped around his throat, not choking, just holding, a promise of total control. "No."
Ansel's breath was a hot, controlled whisper against Lance's ear. "You're going to fuck yourself on me now, you desperate little slut. You're going to ride this cock you begged for until I'm satisfied. Then we can talk about you cumming.."
With a sharp, metallic click, the vibrator's intensity somehow increased, drilling into Lance's core, making his vision swim.
Ansel's fingers slid from his mouth with a wet shlup, a string of saliva briefly connecting them before snapping.
He grabbed Lance's hips, his grip punishing, and forcefully maneuvered him around.
Lance's mind was a scrambled mess of need. The vibrator was a constant, brutal invasion, the rod in his cock a cruel, teasing promise of the orgasm he couldn't have.
And Ansel's dick was still buried to the hilt inside him, a thick, stretching anchor of pure sensation.
Ansel sat back in his imposing leather chair, pulling Lance with him so he was straddling his lap. The new angle was devastating. Lance gasped, his head falling back as he felt Ansel's cock spear even deeper, the vibrator shifting to buzz directly against his prostate.
Fuuuuck.
"Move.." Ansel commanded, his voice a low, authoritative rumble that vibrated through Lance's chest.
Lance's body obeyed before his mind could catch up. He planted his hands on Ansel's broad shoulders for leverage and lifted himself up.
The slide was obscene, a wet, dragging squelsh as Ansel's thick cock pulled almost all the way out of his well-used hole.
The cool air of the office kissed his stretched rim for a split second before he sank back down, taking every inch in one smooth, practiced motion.
A ragged, punched-out moan tore from his throat. The upstroke was its own special kind of torture, the ridges of the vibrator dragging against his sensitive inner walls, the insane buzzing never relenting.
The downstroke was a fullness so complete he felt it in his fucking teeth.
He set a rhythm, fucking himself on Ansel's cock like his life depended on it.
His own dick, trapped and leaking around the cold steel rod, twitched pathetically with every bounce.
Pre-cum welled around the intrusion, a slick, salty testament to his denied release.
The sounds were filthy, the wet slap of his ass against Ansel's thighs, the unceasing buzz of the vibrator, his own ragged, open-mouthed panting, and Ansel's low, approving groans.
"That's it," Ansel growled, his hands moving from Lance's hips to dig into his ass checks, spreading him wider, forcing himself even deeper. "Ride it like the cock-hungry whore you are. Take every fucking inch."