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“This one,” said the short, insectoid trader in Intergalactic, “has been abducted from a passenger ship, a little over a standard month ago.” He gestured at one of the humans on offer.
Treq acknowledged the trader with a quick hand gesture and examined the merchandise.
The human was male and deliciously firm. It was fully grown, but its skin was still pink and smooth with youth. Completely hairless—which was usual for adult humans, Treq knew. Still, this slaveshop understood the tastes of its customers, so removing all fur and hair of the merchandise was a part of standard procedure. In addition, and a very welcome one, this male was immobilized in a typical Qivaq fashion—bent over in a convenient serving position, all four of its limbs vacuum-sealed under it up to the second joint inside a cube-shaped, pitch-black display box. Its feeding and breathing orifices were appropriately intubated and plugged, and its primary sexual organ was similarly penetrated and constricted—thus rendered useless, as was proper for a slavetoy.
Treq emitted a low, appreciative hum.
In this position, the human’s pleasure hole was very accessible. Already, it was beautifully opened. Plump, shiny, and smooth—it should strain satisfyingly around a thick Qivaq cock.
Treq touched it with the middle of his three primary fingers. “Only a month?” He slid his finger deep into the warm cavern. “Hard to believe.” He rubbed at the slick, inflamed walls, and the human’s buttocks quivered around his hand. “This looks properly used.”
“We only permit them two earth-hours of rest out of every eight,” said the trader, “which, as we have experimentally discovered, is the bare minimum to keep a mature human healthy and usable. And this one is more prone to swelling than most—that’s why it’s so expensive.”
Treq hummed noncommittally but didn’t dispute the trader’s argument—all knew his race’s proclivities, so there was no point.
“If I may inquire,” said the trader, “are you buying for personal use or for prestige reasons?”
Slowly and with great satisfaction, Treq stretched the human’s hole with another finger. “Both.”
He already had three very well-broken slavetoys—two of them human—so his basic sexual needs were met. This time, he wanted something more decorative but still useful, something he could install at the entrance to his house during the day, for his guests, employees, and clan members to admire and enjoy, and to wrap snugly around his cock during the night. He wanted something young and sturdy, something that would last yet at the same time broadcast its subjugation and vulnerability—thus Treq’s sexual power—with trembling body, and leaking eyes, and a red, ruined fuckhole.
“Is it test-ready?” he asked.
“Of course. This one”—the trader patted the human’s buttock with a chitinous limb, and the human flinched—”is always ready. It has a swarm of cleansing nanomachines implanted in its bowels.”
The skin on the back of Treq’s head scrunched up.
The trader noticed his reaction. “Oh no,” he said. “They recognize sexual fluids of three hundred twenty-nine species, and are programmed not to process them until properly digested and absorbed. As a bonus, the nanomachines tighten the slavetoy’s guts at critical points and force it to retain all the cum, no matter the quantity, for as long as necessary. Although we still recommend that you flush it thoroughly about once every standard month.”
“When was it flushed last?”
“Just before this exposition, for the first time since the nanomachines were installed right after we had acquired it.” The trader patted the human’s quivering—and temporarily empty—belly. “Can hold a lot of juice, this one.”
“We shall see,” said Treq. He opened a fuckflap at the front of his armor and relaxed the muscles holding his cock curled inside his abdomen. Its fat tip slid out, then about a third of it followed, ridge-by-ridge, and he shuddered.
The trip here took almost a month, and the last-minute commercial flight didn’t permit slavetoys, so he had to leave all three of his at home.
It was unnatural—to not fuck anything for so long.
The display box automatically adjusted its height as soon as he approached, and Treq pressed the round, rigid bulge of his tip against the human’s spasming entrance. The ring of muscles resisted, but pushing in didn’t require much force—perfect—and his cock sunk into the human’s slick depths. When it settled at the bottom, Treq tensed his abdomen, and the rest of his cock—twice as thick and long as the front part—unfurled in a deep, sudden thrust.
The muscles under the human’s skin raised like a wave, and it even managed a faint squeal despite the tubing.
The dense forest of sensory palps around Treq’s groin tingled. He hummed and pressed his abdomen closer to the human’s warm skin. Rubbed himself all over the still exposed parts of its genitals—human testicles were wonderfully sensitive, as he had found out—and between its clenching buttocks. His cock undulated deep inside its hot belly, stretching and rubbing the delicate walls. The ridges near the base were stone-hard and pronounced, and Treq took great pleasure in tormenting the human’s rectum and sphincter with them, in digging them into the plush gland at the bottom, already made delectably swollen and tender by a month of constant abuse.
The human was wound tight around him, the muscles inside it pliant but strong. Its hole was wonderfully responsive, reacting with tiny spasms to the slightest twitch. Still, before they packaged it for travel, Treq was going to order a series of sensitizing injections for its pleasure gland, balls, and the two tiny protrusions on the front of its torso. He was a firm believer in the old Qivaq saying that, for a slavetoy, there was no such thing as too sensitive.
He tensed the muscles in his abdomen and back—those muscles that made the Qivaq cock into a weapon capable of painful conquest, of subjugation, of enslaving the pleasure holes of lesser beings. Those muscles, they coiled and clenched deep inside him, then sucked his cock back into his own body, then pistoned it out. The human quivered from the onslaught, its body secreting salty water all over, and Treq growled low and with great satisfaction—that was one of the signs that a human was feeling properly used. Another was its excuse for a cock desperately trying to harden in its confines, but Treq couldn’t see if that was the case, in this position.
Soon, he’d equip it with the same device his other human slavetoys had installed, one that would emit a series of soft blips whenever its trapped penis tried and failed to rise.
Treq closed his eyes. He kept his abdomen flush against the human’s skin, and reveled in both the harsh pleasure and the soft ache of his muscles tensing hard, fast, over and over. His cock pumped through the human like a piston, like a steel battering ram of old. The ridges caught on the rim, then dug deep into the delicate flesh, then bore in, in, in—tormented every single cell and nerve ending in their rapid wake.
The human clenched on him in clear, if futile, distress.
Treq hummed.
Nothing bruised the inside of a helpless hole like a Qivaq cock.
Unfortunately, his long abstinence had consequences, and soon—a lot sooner than usual—he felt the cumbladder under his cock expand. Within moments, it took so much space that, when his cock withdrew, it could no longer return all the way inside his abdomen, and his thrusts lost their length.
They gained speed instead. The tip swelled, too, and it wrecked the human in short pulses, very deep inside.
Treq reached under the human’s soft, trembling belly, and there it was, the round, hard shape of his tip, oscillating.
He pressed his three primary fingers to it and massaged.
Then—it started. First, in his nape. Then his back went rigid. The sharp wave of pleasure stormed down his body. Culminated in the middle. Compressed his abdomen into a brilliant ball of want. Exploded.
Out, out, out, through his cock.
Throb—after throb—after throb.
The belly under his palm firmed and grew into a bloated dome, until it squished Treq’s hand against the cold surface of the display box.
Treq squeezed it.
The human squealed.
Ah, wonderful.
Nothing like completely emptying your cumbladder into a receptive hole after an excruciatingly long month of no fucking.
After the last pulses passed, Treq opened his eyes again and withdrew his cock into himself, almost completely.
Shot it back out.
The human tightened.
“Do you mind if I use it for a while longer?” he asked the trader, who was standing at attention a respectful few steps away. “I’ve had a long trip.”
He could use cumming two or three more times, too.
“No, of course not,” said the trader. “As a client, that’s your prerogative. Should I prepare the item for transport when you’re done?”
Treq’s cock relaxed into a fast, even pace. “Yes. Yes, do that,” he said, and hummed when the human clenched again. “And please add a full sensitization treatment to my bill while you’re at it.”
The trader clicked his many legs and bowed low. “Of course.” He paused. “Ah. We have a new type of packaging that allows for easy access, permitted on all passenger cruisers.”
Treq snorted. “Thank fuck. Streva knows I wouldn’t be able to handle another month without a hole to fill.”
The trader bowed again and left him to his pleasure.
Treq took a lot of it.
A lot.
Turned out, forced abstinence really didn’t agree with him.
After he was done, he tugged his cock free. Following a long, wet slide, the engorged tip popped out of the human’s hole, and the swollen, red thing gaped, begging for the next cock, for more fucking. Like a toothless maw—wide open and hungry, and perfectly helpless.
Treq covered himself and hummed. He inspected his new slavetoy’s bloated belly. Pressed at it to check if the hole would leak. It didn’t—just winked and puffed out in a pretty invitation. Treq stroked it, and the human’s back arched—proper fucking always made them so sensitive, what a wonderful species—so Treq dug inside for its pleasure gland. It was much bigger than before, and satisfaction smoothed the skin on the back of Treq’s head. It must’ve had many Qivaq cocks already, but Treq knew that, even among his people, his sexual prowess was exceptional, and his acquaintances often complimented him for the excellent state of his slavetoys. Still, there was no reason to get complacent, so he pushed his middle finger into the plumpness of the human’s gland, and started tormenting it with dedication.
That should pass the time until the trader got back—or until Treq’s cock was ready again.