Sounding (Warning)

Clarisse’s fingers trailed down Percy’s chest, her nails scraping lightly over the welts she’d left with the whip. He flinched, his body taut as a bowstring, but she didn’t stop. Her touch was deliberate, almost clinical, as if she were cataloging every inch of his skin—every mark she’d made. Her smirk widened as her hand brushed against the chastity cage, the cold metal a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body.

“Still hard for me, huh?” she taunted, her voice low and dripping with mockery. “Even after all that? You really are a **** little thing, aren’t you?”

Percy’s face burned, his pride warring with the undeniable truth of her words. He hated how she could reduce him to this—how she could make him feel so helpless, so exposed. But there was no escaping her now, not with his wrists bound and the hook in his nose keeping his head tilted back.

Clarisse leaned in close, her breath hot against his ear as she whispered, “Let’s see if we can’t make you even more pathetic, shall we?”

Her hands moved quickly, unclasping the chastity cage with a practiced ease that sent a fresh wave of dread through him. The cage fell away, and Percy’s cock sprang free, hard and aching. He let out a strangled sound, half relief, half fear, but Clarisse’s grip on him was merciless. She wrapped her fingers around his length, squeezing just hard enough to make him whimper, and Percy’s hips bucked involuntarily.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” she sneered, her grip tightening as she stroked him slowly, torturously. “I can feel how much you want me, Prissy. It’s disgusting.”

Percy’s breath hitched, his body betraying him as she continued to touch him. Her strokes were rough, almost punishing, and every movement sent jolts of pleasure and pain through him. He wanted to hate it, to hate her, but there was no denying the way his body responded—the way his cock throbbed in her hand, the way his hips moved against her will.

But then Clarisse stopped, pulling her hand away with a cruel laugh. Percy groaned, his cock twitching in the cold air, and she smirked down at him as she reached for something on the table behind her.

“Don’t worry,” she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Percy’s eyes widened as he saw what she was holding. The sound rod gleamed in the dim light, its smooth, metallic surface menacing and cold. His stomach churned, a wave of panic rising in his chest as realization dawned.

“Clarisse, no,” he choked out, his voice trembling. “Please, you can’t—”

“Can’t I?” she interrupted, her tone hard and unyielding. “You’re mine tonight, Percy. And I’ll do whatever I want with you.”

She stepped closer, the sound rod glinting in her hand, and Percy’s heart raced as he tried to pull away. But there was nowhere to go, no escape from the chair or the ropes that bound him. Clarisse’s free hand gripped his thigh, her nails digging into his skin as she **** his legs apart.

“Stay still,” she commanded, her voice sharp and authoritative. “This will only hurt more if you fight me.”

Percy’s breath came in short, panicked gasps as she leaned in, the sound rod hovering inches from his cock. The cold metal brushed against his tip, and he flinched, his body tensing as a fresh wave of fear washed over him.

“Please,” he begged, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t do this.”

Clarisse looked up at him, her eyes dark with amusement. “Aw, is poor little Percy scared?” she mocked, her lips curling into a cruel smile. “Don’t worry, Prissy. I’ll be gentle… at first.”

With that, she pressed the tip of the sound rod against his slit, and Percy let out a strangled cry as the cold metal breached him. The sensation was sharp and invasive, unlike anything he’d ever felt before, and his body jerked involuntarily. But Clarisse’s grip on his thigh was unrelenting, her fingers digging into his skin as she **** him to stay still.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his voice trembling as the rod slid deeper, the cold metal stretching him in ways he didn’t think were possible. “Clarisse, please—”

“Shut it,” she snapped, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re mine, Percy. And I’m going to make you feel exactly what you deserve.”

The rod moved deeper, the sensation both agonizing and electrifying, and Percy’s body writhed under her touch. His cock throbbed, aching and sensitive, but the pain was unbearable—sharp and unrelenting as the cold metal pressed further into him. He could feel every inch of it, every millimeter as it slid deeper, and his breath came in ragged gasps as tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

Clarisse’s expression was a mix of triumph and sadistic glee as she watched him squirm. Her fingers tightened around the base of the sound rod, and she twisted it slightly, making Percy cry out in pain.

“That’s it,” she purred, her voice low and dangerous. “Take it, Percy. You’re going to take every last inch of it.”

The rod moved deeper, the cold metal pressing against his most sensitive places, and Percy’s vision blurred as the pain overwhelmed him. His body trembled, his fingers clutching at the armrests of the chair as he tried to endure it, but there was no escape—no relief from the agony Clarisse was inflicting on him.

“You’re doing so well,” she taunted, her voice dripping with false praise. “Look at you, taking it like a good little slut. I knew you had it in you, Prissy.”

Percy’s voice was hoarse as he begged, “Please, Clarisse—stop, I can’t—”

“You can,” she interrupted, her tone hard and unyielding. “And you will.”

With that, she pushed the sound rod deeper, the cold metal pressing against his limits, and Percy’s body convulsed as a strangled cry tore from his throat. Tears streamed down his face, his breath coming in ragged gasps, but Clarisse didn’t stop. Her grip on the rod was unrelenting, her movements deliberate and cruel as she **** him to take every last inch of it.

“That’s it,” she whispered, her voice a low, dangerous purr. “You’re mine, Percy. And I’m not done with you yet.”