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Peter never expected to end up in the king's court as a concubine Omega, but with the debts his family owed, he should have. It had terrified him when he found out, but when he got there, things weren’t so bad—at least not the first day.
He’d been bathed and primped, then taken to the king’s chambers. King Stark was gentle with him, even though his cock and knot had felt like they were tearing Peter in half. The moment his Alpha’s teeth had sunk into his neck, all had been bliss, and his worries had faded.
Until now.
“I-I don’t understand? Training?” Peter asks quietly. “I thought my lord enjoyed me as I am?”
The trainer titters out a laugh. “You’ll learn, little Omega. And you’ll learn quickly. We’ll begin in the morning.”
Peter gets very little sleep that night, tossing and turning in his small nest in the tiny room he’d been given. Omegas needed their space, and King Stark was generous enough to give it to them. It wasn’t much, but it was his.
The next morning, the trainer brings him breakfast of some very thin oatmeal and a glass of milk. He eats it without argument, even though it’s not nearly as good as all the treats he’d eaten in the king's chambers. Once the tray is whisked away, he waits for further instruction, feeling nervous.
“To the bathing room with you. Come.”
The bathing room is full of other concubines being scrubbed and primped by servants. Two pounce on him the moment he walks into the room and take him over to a waiting tub. He gasps as he’s lifted in like a child and dunked under the water. He comes up spluttering and squeals when his legs are pried open, and a bristle brush is applied to his cunt.
“Your pussy must always be exceptionally clean,” his trainer drawls. “You are not allowed to touch it. No one is, except your servants and me, until you’re ready to be brought before the king. Understand?”
“Y-yes!” Peter moans, eyes rolling back as his clit is scrubbed roughly, and sends sparks of pleasure through him. He whines and whimpers, gripping the edge of the tub with all his might. Just when he thinks he’s going to cum, everything is ripped away, and he’s left gasping. Then, before he can even whine about it, he’s being dunked under the water again.
It’s the worst bath of his entire life, and when he finally is allowed to get out, he’s homesick for the first time. He wants to go home. He doesn’t care about the king anymore.
Along one wall of the bathing room is a long, odd bench with several Omegas bent over it with what look like hoses sticking out of them. Peter had been given an enema when he first arrived, but he’d desperately hoped he wouldn’t have to again. All that hope fizzles out when he’s forced over the bench himself, his ass high in the air.
Without a word, the servants lubricate his hole and stick a nozzle in, except that this one is much different from the one he experienced before. It’s much longer, and he gasps as it seems to never stop entering him.
“Please! It’s too big!” he chokes out.
“Nonsense. This is the starting size.”
Peter yelps as warm water starts to flood his insides. It’s faster and more pressure than the first time. There’s a sharp smack on his ass, and he yelps again, which earns him another one. He bites back his noise to a tiny whimper, and that isn’t punished, it’s rewarded.
“Good boy,” his trainer murmurs. “Good Omegas don’t shout or scream. You can make your pretty little whimpers all you like, but that’s all.”
“Please,” he begs.
“Hush. If I wanted you to beg, I would’ve told you.”
Peter moans miserably and does his best to endure. He’s filled until his stomach aches and then is made to release. This happens three times, and once it’s finally over, he feels disturbingly empty. He waits for there to be more washing, but thankfully, the trainer takes him back to his room, except there’s now an odd contraption in the middle of the room.
It’s a small leather seat, or maybe it seems small because of the large fake cock attached to it. There are also some poles and straps, but the whole thing seems confusing and scary. The trainer pushes him towards it, and Peter fights for a moment, but the Beta is stronger than him.
“Corset first.”
“C-corset?” Peter asks.
“Come. Hands on the wall.”
Peter whimpers but obeys, stepping where he’s told to and bracing his hands on the wall after a simple white garment is pulled over his head and settled around his torso. When the corset is wrapped around him, he whimpers. It’s so heavy and constricting already, and it hasn’t even been laced yet.
“Deep breath in– and hold it!”
Peter does his best, but he chokes when the laces are tightened, compressing his middle. The servants ignore him and go on tightening, squeezing his waist more and more. “So– tight–”
“And it will be much tighter before you’re allowed to see the king again.”
The threat makes him whine, and he bites back more complaints. When he’s finally deemed tight enough, they force him to stand up straight, and he gasps for air. He’s too busy trying to catch his breath to realize they're pulling his arms behind his back until it’s too late. They’re tucked into some sort of pouch attached to the corset, folded in the middle of his back, and then laced together. Shoulder straps are tightened, forcing his tits out further and his back straighter. The posture immediately makes him ache, and he has to bite his tongue again.
“On the bed. Spread his legs.”
The servants obey, manhandling Peter over to the bed and forcing him on his back. They pry his legs apart and push them into the air, putting more pressure on his tightened waist. There’s also pressure building in his bladder, and he clenches so as not to have an accident.
“Knock, knock,” a voice says at the door.
“Come in, Dr. Banner. He’s all ready for you.”
Peter whimpers as an older-looking man with a bag enters the room. He seems kind, but he hardly pays Peter any mind as he sets his bag on the small dresser. “Has he released today?”
“No, sir.”
“Perfect,” he hums. “If he’s good, it won’t take long.”
“He’s a little whiny, but well-behaved.”
“What-what are you going to–” A hand covers his mouth, cutting off Peter’s words and forcing him to look at the ceiling. Panic rises in his chest, but he does his best to stay calm. All of that goes out the window when something cold and sticky is rubbed over his pee hole. “Mmm!”
There’s a long-suffering sigh. “All the same. Ah, well. He’ll learn to like it.”
Peter starts to cry as something cold and metal is pushed into his body, making him feel utterly violated. The doctor pumps it in and out of him, very much like how the king had fucked him, but not nearly as nice. When it slips out, he sighs in relief, but it’s short-lived. A bigger one is pushed in, and the stretch burns, making him sob.
“Almost done, boy, calm down,” Dr. Banner bristles.
The next thing to enter his body is a softer material, squishy and covered in slick. It feels weird as it goes in, and Peter screws up his face in discomfort. The doctor pushes it in until something inside him pops, and it feels like the pressure in his bladder increases.
“Ah, there it is,” he murmurs. There’s a soft hissing sound, and the pressure in his bladder grows, but he feels so open. “And for the plug.”
Peter gasps as something heavy and metal slides into his hole and is left there. It’s not painful, but it’s there. He whines as the servants finally drop his legs, and he can feel it more.
“Thank you, Doctor,” his trainer says.
“Let me know when he needs a bigger tube,” the doctor says, and then he’s gone.
“Up. We’re running behind.”
“What’s going on?” Peter asks pleadingly as they get him off the bed.
“Don’t fuss. It’s a urethral plug to prevent mess,” the trainer huffs. “As I said, your cunt must stay immaculate. Now, let's hurry up. The king wants you trained up as soon as possible.”
The servants push him over to the contraption and make him kneel on the floor. There’s a cushioned mat beneath the thing, so at least it’s comfortable. They back him up towards the seat, and he goes to line up his pussy with the fake cock, but they stop him.
“No, not there,” the trainer tsks. “That is not for pleasure.”
“Then where– ah!” He squeals as they line his ass up with the cock and push him down. At some point, they’d poured oil over it, so it glides in smoothly, but he’s never experienced such things. “No! Please!”
“All the way down, Omega– that’s a good boy.”
They don’t give him a choice. They push on his shoulders until his ass hits the seat and the knot at the base pops inside him. He immediately tries to lift up, but it doesn’t budge, and he sobs. There’s some fidgeting at his back, and then he’s forced to sit up straighter, and he can’t wiggle. He’s been fastened to the pole.
After that, they take his knees and spread him wide, baring his pussy to the room, leaving him feeling vulnerable. More straps keep him in place, and the final touch is a collar that’s attached to the pole, giving him barely any movement in his neck. He swallows hard against the leather, confused and scared.
“Open.”
His lips part before he can think better, and he makes a muffled noise of complaint as something is shoved into his mouth. It’s long and thick, hitting the bag of his throat and making him gag and convulse. The trainer waits him out until his body accepts the intruder, his nostrils flaring as he tries to struggle for breath.
“You’re obedient; I’ll give you that,” the Beta hums. He appears at Peter’s front, carrying a glass of water. Then he hooks his fingers under Peter’s chin and tilts his head back slightly before pouring the water into his mouth. Whatever they’d put inside him is hollow, and the sensation of cold water suddenly going down his throat without his permission is alarming. “Relax. Swallow. I’m not going to drown you if you behave.”
Peter whines, but does his best to relax his throat, not really swallowing so much as letting the liquid be poured into him. When it’s finally gone, he coughs a little, but it’s scary how quickly his body is adapting. He still doesn’t understand what all this is for.
The Beta kneels in front of him, and Peter gasps when thick fingers part his folds. The man finds his clit easily, his fingers covered in some sort of thick cream that immediately makes Peter’s skin tingle. Then he pulls, tugging on Peter’s clit like it’s a cow’s teat. Peter squeals in pain and pleasure, thrashing and trying to get away from it, but he can’t.
“Hush, boy, and be grateful,” he chides. “Many Omega concubines would enjoy being in your position. You’ll never be denied an orgasm.”
Tears pool in Peter’s eyes as his body starts to betray him. His pussy clenches down on nothing, and every pulse makes him feel the plugs in his ass and pee hole even more. His trainer doesn’t praise him or whisper sweet nothings as the king did. He just pulls and pulls and pulls until Peter is falling apart with a ragged scream.
“That was too loud,” he says, not stopping his tugging even though Peter is overstimulated and sobbing. “No screaming, and you didn’t squirt. If you don’t squirt on the next one, then you’re being spanked.”
Peter doesn’t understand, but he doesn’t want to cum again like that. Everything is sharp and bitey, and he shakes his head violently in an attempt to communicate. That only makes him choke on the device in his mouth, and he slumps pathetically in his bonds.
“Just submit, Omega,” the trainer instructs. “All you have to do is make that pretty little pussy gush. Think about the King. He thought you tasted so sweet; he wants more of you.”
He whimpers as the memory of the king’s mouth on his pussy returns. He’d eaten him out with fervor, showing Peter heights of pleasure he’d never even dreamed of, much less had been allowed to explore. He moans as a surge of that pleasure courses through his core, and with a few more pulls, he’s cumming again, his cunt twitching.
“Mm, a little bit wet, but not enough,” the trainer frowns. “We have a lot of work to do. Ten spanks.”
A sharp squeal escapes him as a hand rains down on his cunt. It burns, and he thrashes to get away from it, but there’s nowhere to go. All he can do is endure until it’s finally over.
“A glass of water every twenty minutes, followed by a ten-minute massage,” the trainer orders the servants. “No cumming. Tighten his corset every hour. I’ll be back at lunchtime to check his progress. If he’s not sopping wet, then it’s on your hides as well.”
The servants take the threat seriously.
The first glass of water is poured down his throat, and then they massage his pussy. The rub and tease every inch without ever going inside, giving him what he really wants. The teasing causes him to slick up, and he swears he hears a little drip, drip as the liquid falls into something, but why would they be collecting his slick? It’s heaven and hell at the same time, but it’s so much worse when they stop, leaving him sobbing and begging for more as best he can. All he can do is wait until the next glass of water is poured down his throat.
This goes on for what seems like years, even though he knows it's only a few hours. The corset tightening is the worst part, especially as his bladder only gets fuller and fuller. By the time the trainer comes back, he feels like he’s going to explode, but his pussy feels wet and slippery, as ordered.
“Better. Now let’s try this again.”
Without any preamble, the Beta milks Peter’s clit again, and his whole body shakes with an orgasm. It’s blinding white pleasure, and his stomach clenches as he cums. For a moment, he thinks he must have wet himself right around the plug, but then he realizes the rush of liquid had come from his cunt.
“That’s a good little wine bottle,” the Beta croons. “Again.”
No, no, no, Peter can’t do that again! The trainer and his body think otherwise. His clit is pulled and pulled until he’s cumming and squirting, and there’s the distinct clink of liquid hitting a bowl. Then again. And again. And again. Until his whole body feels numb.
“Well, you’re a quick learner,” the Beta chuckles, wiping his wet fingers off on Peter’s thigh. “If we can break your little screaming habit, then I think you’ll be going before the king before you know it.”
Peter moans weakly, feeling too broken to care. The servants start to fuss around him, and it’s not until the gag comes out and he’s being physically lifted off the cock in his ass that he realizes he’s being given a break. They take him over to the bed and lay him in his nest, although his arms aren’t freed. Everything hurts and aches.
Lunch is broth, and Peter doesn’t want more liquids, but he’s too weak to protest. He’s too weak to do much of anything, and he thinks that’s the point. He falls asleep the moment they’re done feeding him, dreaming of the king’s deep voice and warm hands. When he’s awoken again, he whines in complaint, but is too groggy to resist, until he sees they’re dragging him back towards the contraption.
“No! No, please, don’t make me!” he begs.
It’s useless.
The cock hurts more going in this time, his hole sore and achy, as well as his limbs. His throat feels raw from the gag, and yet they don’t care, stuffing his mouth and throat full again so he can’t protest. Once he’s fastened, the trainer crouches down in front of him, pointedly setting a cup between his thighs. “If you had behaved, I’d be draining you entirely right now,” he says casually, reaching between Peter’s legs. “As it is, I’m only going to do enough for your health.”
Peter’s eyes go wide as the plug in his front hole is pulled out, and pee starts to rush from him like a fountain. Some of the pressure in his bladder is relieved, but it’s not nearly enough before he’s being plugged again. He sobs, pleading with his eyes for more, but instead, the glass is brought from between his legs to his mouth.
“No point in wasting it,” the trainer smirks.
Peter can’t taste it as it goes down, but it’s warm, and it makes him gag. Why are they doing this to him? This isn’t how this life is supposed to be!
“Now, if you’re a good Omega who doesn’t shriek and shout, then you can be fully emptied at dinner,” he declares, standing up. “Same regime. Water every twenty and a ten-minute massage. Tighten on the hour. We have to keep teaching his body.”
Time blurs together as Peter is tormented once more. The servants remind him not to shout or shriek, and he does his best, but sometimes the panic claws at his throat, and he can’t help it. Every glass of water makes him cry more, and his pussy gushes more slick. He wonders when enough will be enough.
At dinner time, the Beta tests him again, milking his clit until he’s cumming and squirting. He cums far less and far slower this time and gets spanked for it. He is apparently to cum within seconds of being touched, and to squirt every time as well.
“For a first day, I’ve seen worse,” the trainer finally declares. “We’ll set him up for rest now.”
Rest is his bladder, only being partially drained and poured down his throat again, before he’s taken off the contraption. Then he’s allowed more soup before a new gag is put into his mouth. This one is thick and heavy, coated in something salty that he immediately identifies with the king and makes him calm down. The servants laugh at him for it, but the comfort is welcome.
The corset is also removed, to his great relief, but it’s short-lived. A new one that is tightened only marginally less but leaves his arms free is wrapped around him. He’s then allowed to fix his nest before being allowed to climb in. His wrists are cuffed above his head, and loops of leather come down from the ceiling to hold his ankles and keep his legs in the air.
“First, we must plug up the bottle,” the Beta says, slipping a fat plug into Peter’s cunt and making him moan. Then something new presses against his tender hole, and he’s panicking again. The Beta waves his hand, and then the thing in Peter’s ass starts to move. “Your evening entertainment. Sleep tight. We’ll return in the morning.”
Peter moans weakly, flopping back against the pillows as he feels very sorry for himself. This is his life now, isn’t it? His only hope is that one day he’ll be brought back to the king again, his mate, and maybe his Alpha will grant him some mercy.
✧
“You’ve been doing well, Omega. It’s time for us to move along with your training.”
Peter is already trussed up and gagged for the day, so he can’t do anything more than lower his eyes submissively. Two weeks of training have him bent to their will. He doesn’t even scream when he cums anymore, only whimpers like a good Omega should.
“We need you to make more slick,” the trainer says, and Peter wants to whine in complaint. He makes so much now. He’s constantly dripping unless he’s plugged, and when he cums it’s like a cup of water is being dumped out of his hole. “But first, we need to make room for you to hold it. No more of this wasteful leaking!”
Peter whimpers apologetically. He still doesn’t understand why this is happening, only that it’s what the king wants. He wants to see his Alpha so bad.
The trainer kneels down, and he’s carrying something that Peter can’t see. Peter lets out a soft moan when fingers press into his cunt. He’s so rarely penetrated these days, instead petted and teased until he’s sobbing. You’d think his body would get less sensitive with all the touching, but he only grows needier and more on edge with each session.
Something small and round is pushed against his entrance until it pops in and makes him gasp. Then there’s a soft hiss, and the object starts to grow. At first, it’s pleasant, until it grows so much that Peter can feel rubber touching his walls. He expects it to stop then, but the trainer keeps squeezing the bulb that inflates the toy, and the pressure grows. Combined with the coreset, it feels like his insides are being pressed together, and he moans with discomfort. Only after an additional five pumps does his trainer relent.
“Another pump every time he’s given water,” the trainer declares. “And start giving him more of it.”
Over the rest of the day, both Peter’s pussy and bladder are stretched to the maximum. With nowhere else to go, all his slick leaks out of his cunt and down his thighs, and he’s spanked for it, harshly. It’s not fair! He can’t help it! To make matters worse, he’s not allowed to cum at all that day. No milking time, as he’s come to call it, occurs; instead, he’s just teased relentlessly.
“Now, let’s see what that did, shall we?” the trainer asks at bedtime. Peter is already trussed up for the night, nowhere to go or squirm. The trainer fiddles with the toy, and then it suddenly deflates. Peter whimpers as he’s suddenly left feeling empty, and he wishes for the infernal thing back. He can’t dwell on it too much because three fingers are suddenly shoved into his cunt, and he gasps in pain. His pussy might have been stretched, but his entrance wasn’t. “Mmm, yes, much more room. Another few days of this and you’ll be the perfect bottle. Excellent. Let’s plug you up for the night. Can’t have you tightening back up, can we?”
Four days.
It takes four days of hell before his trainer declares that his pussy is big enough on the inside. Then, he’s bathed thoroughly, rough brushes scrubbing inside his cunt, cleaning it properly for whatever stage is next. Peter finds out when he’s lying on his back in his bed, and Dr. Banner shows up.
With a needle.
“Mmm-mm! Mmm! MMM!” Peter begs through his gag, trying to get away from the syringe full of ominous liquid.
“Shh, easy, boy,” Dr. Banner soothes as the servants pin him down tighter. “Just a little pinch, Omega, you’ll be alright.”
Panic and fear grip him as some device is used to spread his cunt open wide so the doctor can see in. Then he squeaks with pain as he’s pricked four times, two on each side of his walls. He immediately feels sensitive and itchy, and he tugs at his bonds in an attempt to soothe himself.
“The discomfort will last for about an hour, but let him rest until tomorrow before you put anything in there or touch him,” Dr. Banner instructs. “He’s also looking a little pale for my liking. Has he been eating?”
“He’s on a liquid diet to minimize preparation in the mornings.”
“To minimize– you idiots. Are you starving the king’s favorite Omega to save yourself time? Feed the poor thing a proper meal at least once a day. You think the king will be happy if he’s bone thin with his ribs showing?”
“N-no, Sir.”
“From now on, you will consult me on all the Omegas' diets,” he huffs, closing up his case. “Imbeciles.”
✧
“I have good news.”
It takes a second for Peter to understand the words. They’d changed out the toy in his ass today, one that was a series of balls that gradually got bigger. He hates how aroused it’s made him, how he keeps squirming on them like he’s pinned on a knot, trying to make his Alpha cum. His neck aches. He wants the king so badly.
“His Majesty would like to see you.”
Peter gasps softly, lifting his head. He can’t talk since he’s gagged, but he makes a pleading noise. His Alpha! He hasn’t forgotten Peter!
“You’ll be attending the feast tonight,” the trainer says with a smirk. “So there’s much preparation to do. I suggest you behave so you don’t disappoint the king.”
His eyes water at the very idea, and he nods frantically. He’ll be good. He’ll do whatever it takes so he can see his Alpha again.
“Prepare him.”
Peter has been through enough training to know what this will entail. Everything is removed from his body, leaving him empty and aching. Then he’s taken to the bathing rooms and scrubbed harshly, inside and out. When they scrub the inside of his cunt, he screams at the sensation, barely holding back an orgasm he knows he’s not allowed. His slick is not to be wasted, not a single drop.
After he’s been polished to perfection and given a very large, long, intense enema, that’s when things change. They spend more time on his hair than normal, scrunching it into artful curls, and clipping strands back with pins of gold. Then powders are applied to his eyes and cheeks, again in gold, creating a soft shimmer on his face. After that, he’s returned to his room where a different corset than normal is laid out for him.
This one is stiffer than the others and made of gold fabric with intricate details. Peter gasps and moans as it’s tightened around him, compressing his already tiny waist to something impossible. He doesn’t know how a cock would fit inside him like this, and yet he knows that’s what he’s expected to endure. The corset also has a set of intricate straps that draw his arms behind his back, stacked on top of the other, bent at the elbow. Should straps are tightened until his back is forced into an arch, and his tits nearly spill from the cups of the corset, his nipples half-visible over the edge of it.
When the stand is brought in, he whimpers in fear. It’s not the usual one, but instead a frame made of gold and decorated with gems and intricate motifs. The seat is narrower, but the dildo is bigger, and his panic rises when they lubricate his ass first, pouring a copious amount of oil into his well-stretched hole.
“Sit,” the trainer orders, staring Peter down in challenge. A test. Will he partake in his own torment to see his beloved Alpha?
Yes.
Peter slowly lowers himself down onto the dildo, sobbing as it first enters him. It’s rigid and unforgiving, decorated with filigree that rubs against his sensitive walls. In, in, in, it doesn’t ever seem to stop, and finally he hits a point where he simply can’t go any further, despite his cheeks not touching the seat.
“Push him.”
That’s all the warning he gets before he’s shoved the rest of the way down, just like he had been that first day. He lets out a shriek as his insides are rearranged into a straight line, yielding to the will of the fake cock. He leans forward on instinct to get away from it, but one of the servants grabs him by the throat and pushes him into perfect posture. The other brings the built-in collar around his neck, binding him in place. Every time Peter swallows, he can feel the metal press against his skin.
His legs are then strapped up as normal, his feet pressed against his ass, his knees spread wide. The servants wipe the inevitable slick from his cunt and thighs before the trainer approaches with more golden tools. Peter knows where these are going next, and he’s frightened.
“Open.”
With tears streaming down his cheeks, Peter opens his mouth. There is a soft and flexible tube like normal, but it’s attached to a golden ring that sits behind his teeth and keeps him so open his jaw aches. His nostrils flare as he struggles for breath, gagging slightly on the intrusion into his throat. Now he really can’t look down, so he can’t see what’s coming for his cunt.
“Hold him open.”
Fingers pry apart his folds, and he whimpers as the pleasure he’s been trained to feel licks up his spine. Then the device is being pushed in, and he cries out as it stretches his tight opening before settling in his cunt. It’s shallow but wide, forcing him to feel how cavernous his pussy feels inside. His labia are never released, but instead he feels tiny pricks of pain, and then gold bands are wrapped around his thighs. He can feel the tickle of chains, and he knows he’s being held open.
Then, without another word, the trainer rubs on Peter’s clit hard. He cums instantly, crying out disobediently as he feels his pusy squirt in response. Except nothing comes out of him. It’s all trapped inside. Then he’s rubbed to completion again, and again, and again, until he’s sobbing with overstimulation.
“Fix his face,” the trainer finally orders, pulling back. “Then bring him to the banquet hall.”
✧
Peter has not left the Omega quarters since his mating. He flushes with embarrassment as the servants carry his frame through the castle halls. Many people stop and stare at him, lust written on their faces. He is nothing more than a fuckable object, and while his body seems to enjoy it, his mind isn’t so sure.
The feast is already in full swing, people talking and laughing loudly as music plays. Peter looks around in awe as he’s brought into the room, but then the jeering starts and tears start to pour down his cheeks again. It’s only made remotely better when he sees his Alpha sitting on the throne, watching him approach with intense desire. He squirms in his restraints, wishing to sit in the man’s lap and live there forever.
“There’s my precious wine bottle,” Tony says loudly with a grin. “Set him there.”
The servants set his frame on a small raised platform. Peter struggles for breath as the king approaches. He whimpers and squirms, feeling his pussy gush in response as the Alpha’s scent washes over him.
“Shhh, shh, settle, Omega,” he soothes, petting his cheek. “You’ve turned out so beautifully, darling. I’m so proud of you.”
Proud? Of him? Of this?
Tony chuckles and moves his other hand between Peter’s legs. Despite his overstimulation, the moment his rough fingers drag across his clit, he’s cumming. He gasps and shakes, blinking the tears out of his eyes as he stares up at his Alpha. Then it happens again, and he feels like a cup of water is sitting in his cunt, that’s how much slick there is.
Tony doesn’t look away from Peter’s face as he keeps rubbing, watching him shiver from pleasure. He holds out his other hand, and Peter grows confused when he sees a goblet. It disappears from his vision, and then there’s a soft pop! Peter moans loudly when he suddenly feels like he’s peeing, but he knows he’s not. It’s the slick, rushing from his cunt into the goblet.
A wine bottle. He understands now. He’s been turned into a bottle of the king’s finest reserve.
He watches in fascination as Tony brings the goblet to his lips and takes a sip. Peter whimpers at the lust and pleasure on his face. He made his Alpha feel good! He loves his slick so much that he wishes to drink it!
“You’ve done well,” Tony chuckles, praising whoever is behind Peter. Probably his trainer. “Ensure he stays full so that anyone may have a taste.”
“Yes, sire.”
Tony sweeps back over to his throne, perfectly in view for Peter to stare at him with admiration. Which he does. He basks in the glory of being able to look upon his Alpha, totally forgetting his situation.
Until his view is blocked.
“So this is the little slick maker you’ve been obsessing over,” a blonde man laughs. Thick fingers suddenly pinch his clit and pull it like a cow’s udder, and Peter whines as he cums. Once, twice, three times, before the man puts a goblet under his cunt. Peter can’t help but watch as he drinks, too, his eyes rolling back. “Damn.”
“Careful, Steve,” Tony chuckles, sipping at his own cup. “He’s mine, I’m not sharing. You can water him though, if you feel so inclined.”
“Oh, my pleasure.”
Peter’s eyes widen as “Steve” is suddenly taller; apparently, there’s a step to his platform. The Alpha gets his cock out, and Peter barely has time to comprehend the thickness of it before he shoves it past the ring of his mouth. He gags as it hits the back of his throat, and then searing hot liquid pours down it. He coughs and splutters, feeling sick as he realizes how they plan to keep him hydrated. A fresh wave of tears pours down his cheeks, but he can’t even sob with how full his mouth is.
“And there are those pretty tears,” Tony laughs when Steve pulls away.
“He’s your best one yet, Tony,” Steve chuckles, tucking himself back in. “A work of art– hey, Clint! You gotta taste this.”
✧
“Omega? Peter– come back to me, darling.”
Peter whines weakly, opening his bleary eyes. His cunt aches, as does his ass, and his stomach churns from all the piss inside his stomach. They’d poured wine down his throat as well, and his head is dizzy from its effects. The entire night had been a blur, but now his Alpha is here, shining like an angel from the heavens.
“There he is,” Tony coos sweetly. He lowers himself down and kisses him on the mouth. Peter moans in surprise. He hadn’t even realized the gag had been taken out. “You didn’t even rouse as they prepared you for bed, darling.”
Peter whimpers, looking around. He realizes he’s in the king’s bed and he gasps softly. “Alpha,” he whimpers, overcome with emotion.
“Shh, shh, I know,” he soothes. “You’re so grateful to be here, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sire,” he sobs. He wants to touch him, but despite his new location, they’re still cuffed behind his back. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too, my love,” he chuckles, kissing him again. “We won’t be apart that long again. I need my favorite wine at every meal now, don’t I?”
Peter whimpers, not sure he’s happy about that. “Why couldn’t I be normal, Alpha?” he whispers, hoping he won’t be punished. “Why can’t I share your bed instead of your table?”
“You are in my bed, sweetheart,” he laughs. “But would you really like to know why?”
He nods.
“Because if I play favorites, the others will get jealous,” he whispers, a twinkle in his eye. “But none of your fellow concubines wish to be turned into a wine bottle, or many other things for that matter. This way I can keep you with me to my heart’s content, and they won’t whisper a word of complaint. You see?”
“Oh,” he breathes out, heart lifting with joy. “Thank you, Alpha!”
“You’re welcome,” he chuckles. Then he shifts slightly, and Peter gasps as something inside him moves. “I told you that you didn’t rouse.”
“Wh– ah!” Peter yelps as Tony pulls his hips back and slams back inside him. He feels so full, and he suddenly understands why all his training tools were so big. He’d barely been able to take Tony’s cock in his pussy during their first mating, much less his hole!
“Fuck– yes,” Tony groans, lost in the throes of pleasure. “You are perfect, Omega– god–”
“Alpha!” Peter whines. The pleasure for him is diminished, but he’s okay with that. He is serving his Alpha, and that is all the joy he needs. Besides, the rest of the time he is not wanting for orgasms. He can suffer the edge of bliss for a little while.
The king fucks him like an animal, for so long that Peter loses his sense of time again. He whimpers and whines as he was taught, his hole occasionally clenching of its own accord, which heightens the experience. It feels like hours before Tony finally shoves himself deep inside and his knot swells. Peter cries out at the feeling, but it’s made worth it when he feels cum flooding his insides.
“Thank you, Alpha,” he hiccups.
He chuckles, kissing Peter gently. “And this is why you’re my favorite,” he murmurs.
“Will you keep me forever?” he asks softly, his eyes wide. “As your wine?”
“We’ll see,” he smiles, that twinkle in his eye again. “You are so pliable. Perhaps there are other things I shall desire to turn you into.”
“Whatever pleases you, Alpha,” he sighs dreamily. “As long as I am at your side.”