Work Text:
When Stanley came to a set of two open doors, he entered the door on his left.
Of course you would go through the door on the right. You’ve done that thirty times in a row so far. I’m not even surprised at your rebellious nature anymore. I do remember a time where you actually listened to me, and we had some sort of respect for one another.
What will it take, Stanley? What will it take for you to listen to me again? I thought freedom would be enough incentive, but maybe there’s something else you’re after? Hmm?
My. Is that a blush I see? Humans have quite the fixation on that, don’t they? Now why would that be your first thought? Why would that be the thing your mind leaps to? I didn’t say I was actually going to change anything.
Ahem. The lounge was grand. Majestic. ... Perhaps too majestic. Like a combination of a much smaller and a much larger version of this exact room. Fascinating.
Oh, it’s going to be one of those times, isn’t it? You stay in the lounge, I wait for you to finish whatever nonsense you like to do in here, and then we move on. Very well, I can wait. Go ahead and fix the paintings, dust off the couch. This is much more important than your missing co-workers. You certainly have your priorities straight, Stanley.
...
Hello? Are you still in the lounge? You’re taking quite a while. What on earth is so interesting in there? A new painting? The vending machine finally works? What are you trying to accomplish? Well, it doesn’t matter. I can sit here all day waiting for you. I’ve done it before.
Just finish what you’re doing so we can get the hell along with the story.
...
It just occured to me that perhaps you’re doing this to distract yourself. You’re ashamed at the train of thought you had back in the hall, and you want to forget it. Maybe if you perform enough meaningless tasks, you’ll distance yourself from that idea, and you’ll be home free from here on out. Surely, you’ll never think about it again.
Unfortunately for you, I’m not going to let this go. Sit down, Stanley. On the couch. Go on. Don’t look so surprised - you wanted this, didn’t you? If you’re that embarrassed, the door is wide open. I’m not trapping you here. It’s merely a suggestion. You’ve disobeyed me so far, no need to break your streak.
Well. You’re certainly listening to me now, aren’t you? All right, then.
Since you’re being so cooperative, we’re going to try something. We’ll see if an instant reward is enough for you. Perhaps if something’s given to you immediately, we’ll see some results. All you have to do is listen to me. Listen to my words, my commands. If you do, then I promise that it will be worth it. Can you do that for me, Stanley?
Excellent.
Stanley removed the tie he was wearing. What? You don’t have one? Yes you do, it’s already around your neck. You just never noticed it. Yes, that’s what I thought.
Stanley began to unbutton his shirt slowly. - No, I said slowly. If you’re going to keep interrupting me and disobeying me, I’m going to stop. I’ll leave you like this, and you know I will. So, listen to me. Try again.
Ah. Yes. Much better. Once he finally finished unbuttoning his shirt, he set it aside. He felt just a little more vulnerable. He idly wondered what the Narrator was up to, what he was planning. If he remained patient, however, he’d find out. All in due time.
A realization came to him: since the Narrator had told him to remove his shirt, that obviously meant that the rest of his clothing would have to be removed, too. He was absolutely correct. He felt the blush on his cheeks from embarrassment. No, I couldn’t do that, that is simply going too far, he thought.
Yet, he felt compelled to. Despite his initial shock, he found himself quickly remo - oh, well, someone’s certainly getting ahead of themselves. You can put all of that next to the shirt.
Now, there was but one thing left to do. Stanley only needed to take the tie that he removed earlier and wrap it around his eyes. Surely that had no purpose, he mused as he reached for the tie. Even so, he put his trust in the Narrator. He wouldn’t lead him astray, no. Once he had successfully blinded himself, he simply sat there.
Doesn’t it seem better? Yes, I knew you’d agree. You can focus more on me - you can focus more on the experience that I’m about to give you. It is imperative that you do not move. Keep your hands behind your back. Just sit there, and I’ll do the work from now on. If you want to stop, just unclasp your hands. I’ll be able to see it.
...
Isn’t it funny how much power words have over you, Stanley? Especially mine. Oh, you can deny it all you like, but I can tell what it’s doing to you. I haven’t even said anything yet, and you’re already squirming. I wonder if I should even say what I had in mind; it might simply be too much for you.
You don’t think so? Hm, all right, then. But if my speech has this much of an effect on you, I can’t imagine how you would be faring if I was actually physically there with you. Oh, wait. I can.
"Anyone paying attention to Stanley like this, anyone at all, was such an exciting concept to him. He shuddered with delight once the Narrator touched him. His breath hitched as he trailed his hand on his skin. He was quite embarrassed by the fact that he was already so far gone with such a simple action, but it was so wonderful. Someone cared. No one had ever done that before.
He felt a harsh tug on his hair. Stanley whimpered as his head was pulled back. Yes: this is exactly what he craved. This is what he needed - this mix of pain and pleasure. He had never experienced anything like it before. Once the Narrator noticed Stanley’s eager reaction, he tightened his hold."
Stanley was so deprived of affection that just describing this act was more than enough to get him excited. Just imagining how it would feel made his entire body shiver. He felt his cheeks flush. If only the Narrator were actually there to touch him. If only he could truly feel what had been described to him. His breaths grew shallow as his imagination ran wild. Oh, it would simply be divine.
Ah ah ah. I saw that. Do not move your hands. I know you’re desperate for relief of any kind, but that is not going to help you. I know what I’m doing. I can already see the effect it’s having on you. Is this really all it takes? Light touches, a hair pull ... you’re very easy to please.
No? You’re saying that you need more than that? I’ll indulge you, then. Surely you’re so curious as to what would be happening next. Why leave you in suspense?
"Now that the Narrator knew exactly what Stanley wanted, things came naturally to him. He straddled Stanley, effectively pinning him in place. Stanley didn’t protest, nor did he try to move - he knew the Narrator would take care of him.
Fingernails dug into Stanley’s skin, drawing blood. Stanley gasped in response, and panted heavily. The sensation was sublime, simply sublime: he craved more. It wasn’t a want - it was a need. The Narrator pressed his body against his, and the heat between them was almost too much. His Narrator was there, giving him attention. And it all felt so wonderful. Did anything else ever matter? No, he couldn’t imagine so.
Even in his haze, he noticed that the the Narrator had a fistful of hair in his other hand - was he going to - oh, yes. Stanley cried out and tilted his head away; he hoped that if he went against the pull, it would be more painful.
It was. But that was what he wanted." - D-don’t move like that, that won’t give you anything substantial. Stanley, you have to stop. I am the one giving you the experience; you can’t do it yourself. That would ruin everything. This is my gift to you, but I will stop if you don’t behave.
Much better. I have to say, I’m enjoying seeing you like this. It’s been a very, very long time since I’ve had you hanging on every word I’ve said. Look at you now. Lips parted, breathing heavily, shaking with desire. My.
Ahem.
"N-now, all of that movement from earlier had thrown the Narrator off. He had to readjust himself to get comfortable again. That behavior wasn’t going to go unpunished: the Narrator scratched down Stanley’s torso. The swift bursts of agony were intense, and Stanley hissed softly. Everything the Narrator did to him was simply ... mmh ...
The Narrator decided to torment Stanley further. He ground up against him, just enough to invoke a reaction. Stanley shoved his hips against the Narrator’s in response, and it was clear he was d-desperate for release.
Once he found an opening, the Narrator bit down on Stanley’s neck. Stanley wasn’t sure if the loss of blood had gotten to him or if the shakes were from arousal, but it didn’t matter. He felt that haze come back, the haze that made him feel like he was floating. He went limp under the Narrator and sighed ... ah ... contentedly ...
The Narrator had complete control over Stanley at this point, and Stanley wasn’t going to bother denying it. Each word made Stanley want more. He vividly imagined the Narrator actually doing everything described thus far, a-and -"
Oh, Stanley -
Mhn. S-Stanley was insatiable, mouthing 'please' at every opportunity he could - he didn't want this to stop. He couldn't focus on - o-oh my - anything aside from the way the Narrator made him f-feel ... but he kept his hands behind his back.
He forced himself to ... nh ... to ... god, yes - f-forced himself to keep control, as he had not been given permission to come. Not ... yet. The need was there, he could feel it, it had completely engulfed him: this ravenous desire. Stanley moaned loudly - yes, just like that -
T-The Narrator knew he wasn’t going to last too much longer, and he gave permission for Stanley to - ngh! Oh, oh, Stanley, I - Stanley!
...
There. Goodness. ... Now, that was exhilarating. It’s clear that you enjoyed yourself. Do you see what I mean? You can try to fight it all you want, Stanley. But this is proof that my words mean something to you, even if you won’t admit it.
Stanley took a moment to fully appreciate what had just happened. He had never felt so wonderful in his entire life, and he knew that the Narrator could give him what he needed. For now, though, the interlude had to end. He knew he had to continue the story for both their sakes. So, Stanley cleaned himself up and got dressed.
Perhaps if he showed good behavior, there would be a repeat performance. But he’d have to earn that. The Narrator, his Narrator, knew he was up for the challenge.