Ai No Kusabi Fan Fiction ❯ Ai o Juten ❯ Chapter Three ( Chapter 3 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Content Warning: Force feeding.


Chapter Three

The next day, via his monitor, Iason looked on with disappointment as Riki refused food, taking Daryl's proffered tray and flinging the contents against the wall of his prison. As the day wore on, his dismay changed to a kind of slow burning anger, until the embers of it were incandescent in his mind.

In a change to his accustomed routine, Iason ended his work early, striding coolly back to his apartment, and his mongrel pet. Many things could be allowed to pass. For instance, he had not attempted to correct Riki's way of speaking, because it contributed to his exotic charm. But refusing sustenance would not be tolerated. His pet was not to endanger itself. Should it become known... Iason felt the sparks of his anger catching on each other, and yet when he stood at the door of Riki's room, he was icy and imperious.

The bed had not been replaced, so as to teach him about destruction of property. In a way, that is exactly what this refusal to eat was, and Iason decided to show no mercy. He did not speak a word to his pet, and in turn Riki did not look at him, though he was definitely aware Iason was watching him.

“Daryl,” he said, without looking away from where Riki was sitting, non-communicative on the floor.

“Master,” the furniture said, near to him now. “He will not eat.”

“So I have seen. You will force him.” He noticed Riki blink at that, but he had no idea what was in store for him, Iason was quite certain. Before that, he would experience the pain his new pet ring could deliver.

“Master...” said Daryl, his voice faint with shock. At last Iason turned to look at him.

“There is a feeding chair. You know where it is. You have been trained in this, have you not?”

Daryl nodded slowly.

“Good. Prepare what you need. Bring the chair into the lounge. I will watch.” With a slight bow, the furniture hurried away to do his bidding. Being furniture, he was primarily kept around to take care of Iason's pets. Force feeding was very rarely administered, but if that was what Riki required, then it is what he would get. Mostly, it was used on pets desperate to secure the attention of their owners, perhaps when their time of useful purpose was at an end, when they faced the inevitable fall from grace due to age.

Riki had no such motivations. This was obstinacy, pure and simple.

Iason waited until Daryl was ready, watching Riki all the time, who remained stock still, refusing to speak or move. He took off his outer robe, draping it carefully over the back of a chair, leaving him in his black trousers and shirt.

“A lesson,” Iason said coldly, and touched the ring on his finger, causing the pet ring Riki wore to tighten constrictively, giving pain. With a satisfying thin scream of agony, the mongrel suddenly curled up into a ball on the floor. “You will learn to associate this sensation with my displeasure,” Iason told him.

While he was so incapacitated, Iason strode fully into the room and freed him from the steel anklet, pulling him up by the scruff of his neck while he whimpered, his hands cupped over his genitals.

It did not take long to drag the mongrel across the room and deposit him in the chair. It was an item of furniture designed for one purpose, and it tilted slightly back, holding Riki at an angle. Without needing further instruction, Daryl began strapping Riki's arms and legs tightly, hooking bands of leather around his midsection, and finishing with a restraint that went across his forehead.

All the time, Riki writhed in pain, his hands clenched where his wrists were bound to the arms of the chair. He tried to move his head to look at Iason, but could not. His cock was half hard from the constriction alone, but that was not the only source of pain for him via the pet ring.

“Please...” he cried out, fully restrained, his eyes rolling back so all that could be seen were the whites of his eyes. Iason went to sit a short distance away, where he had a good view of his pet restrained in the chair, then deactivated the ring.

“This is not mercy,” Iason informed him. “You will know that when you eat of your own volition.”

“Dickhead,” Riki muttered, apparently to himself, yet he opened his mouth obligingly. When nothing happened, he twitched in his bonds as if he tried to look at Daryl. “Well, go on then,” he said, ungracious. “Be a good pet and spoon the fucker in.”

Daryl gasped, his gaze lowered to the floor. “I am not a pet,” he whispered, agonised.

“Yeah?” Riki laughed. “You could have fooled me.” His voice fell into a sing song tone as he continued. “Yes, Master... No, Master... Where do you want my mouth, Master...?”

The furniture had gone as white as a sheet, his eyes jumping back and forth between Riki and Iason in alarm as the taunting continued. “Pay no heed,” Iason said calmly, his voice somehow carrying over Riki's, seeing Daryl relax at his words. “Begin.”

Daryl nodded and stepped to the side of the chair, reaching out to hold Riki's nostrils closed. Immediately, the sound of Riki's voice was silenced as he closed his mouth in rebellion. On a small temporarily erected square table beside them were the tools of this procedure, and with his free hand the furniture took up a clamp. Iason settled back in his seat and began counting off the seconds.

The first fifteen seconds passed in uneventful silence, then the mongrel began rolling his eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of either one of them. The forehead restriction meant he could not move his head at all. At thirty-two seconds there was a sudden sharp knock as Riki tried to move in the chair, tensing all of his muscles, but it was impossible.

Another twenty seconds passed, and now the humming began, quickly rising in volume and pitch as Riki tried to delay the inevitable. At last, he opened his mouth to breath, and Daryl jammed the clamp inside immediately, seizing the chance, buckling it behind his head. Riki growled and snarled and chewed on the clamp like an animal. All very theatrical. They were definitely sounds of protest though when Daryl began to feed the long length of flexible tubing in. His breathing was fast and loud too, and yet it suddenly stopped as the tubing hit the back of the mongrel's throat. His gag reflex was triggered, but it was too late. His body seized as he tried to cough, but that was impossible now. He tried to scream, but it came out in a series of quiet squeaks. If he wished to breathe, he would need to relax, and finally he did.

The breathing sounded more like choking, as his epiglottis was unable to open fully because of the tube, so the air was pulled in and out of the smallest fluttering gap, but it would allow him to breathe, as terrible as it sounded. Daryl, meanwhile, had been feeding the length of the tube deep, until he had reached the required level. The other end was quickly attached to a funnel which Daryl held above the level of Riki's head. Gravity would do this job.

“Continue,” Iason ordered, and Daryl swallowed, using his other hand to lift a jug of prepared liquid feed to the funnel, and then slowly poured it in.

Riki's breathing continued in the same laboured and noisy fashion, but when the funnel began to empty directly into his stomach, his entire body tensed. Iason could see how his fingers straightened out, his entire body stiff as the stuff began to fill his stomach. Iason watched it go in, satisfied, Riki unable to stop it try as he might, and again he felt that strange sensation of heat in him. Surely inappropriate now, and yet it was there.

When it was all gone, Daryl tried to soothe Riki, laying hands on him, urging him to relax whilst he slowly removed the tube. The only sound Riki made was that desperate choking as he tried to take in more oxygen. Iason trusted the furniture to know what to do in this, just as in the procedure, and yet he had the strangest urge to command him to stop. Troubled, Iason remained frozen, saying and doing nothing. He only observed as Daryl slowly removed the tube until it was out. Immediately, he had hands on Iason's property again.

“Breathe normally,” the furniture advised quietly, his voice soft and sympathetic. “Do not gasp. That is it. If you vomit, you will have to endure it all over again. Resist it. Keep it down.”

He repeated his words like a serene mantra, until Riki was trembling and his rattling breath eased. All of the colour seemed to have drained from Iason's pet, and perspiration had broken out all over his skin, along with goose bumps. It had the look of a fever. Then, when Daryl removed the clamp, he moaned. It was not a sexual sound this time. Instead it was dismay at the violation of his body. “Daryl...” he whispered, broken, urgent and hoarse, the name ending on a violent heave.

“Swallow it, Riki. Don't let this beat you.”

What right had he to give advice like that? Iason tilted his head slightly and pursed his lips, but the furniture's full attention was on Riki. At last it occurred to Iason that if Riki vomited while he was still restrained, he might choke, and so he deliberately relaxed, letting Daryl use whatever words were necessary to forestall it.

“Has it passed?” Daryl asked, and Riki hummed in agreement, his lips held tightly together. Iason could see his throat working, swallowing over and over, just as Daryl had told him to do.

After a few minutes of quiet solicitude, Daryl began to untie the straps, warning Riki not to make any sudden or sharp movements. He obeyed, and Iason began to feel a little annoyed that the mongrel would take Daryl's commands, but not his own. When at last all of the buckles were undone, Daryl silently helped Riki from the chair. The mongrel seemed unsteady on his feet – shaky – vulnerable in a way Iason had never seen him. Despite Daryl's assistance he fell to his hands and knees on the floor, another one of those heaves beginning in him.

Instantly, Daryl was crouched beside him, stroking his back. “You can do this. Keep it in. You don't want to go back into the chair, do you?”

Riki sobbed once, but calmed, still not moving from that position. Something in him seemed defeated, hobbled, but Iason decided not to be fooled this time. When a few more long minutes had passed, Daryl considered his job done and began clearing away the equipment, ignoring Riki now completely. When he was done, Iason waved him away with a hand to dismiss him.

As if to remind the mongrel of his responsibilities, Iason eased his boots off, placing them neatly by the side of his chair. Riki flinched but did not otherwise move. By this time, a full thirty-two minutes had passed since the feeding. Iason considered, and then touched the ring on his finger so that it would deliver a low pulse of pleasure.

Riki moaned, his head dropping even lower as he began to crawl slowly forward on his hands and knees. “Daryl...” he called out, breathless, as if for help, his voice rough due to the treatment he had recently endured, but the furniture was gone.

“Only you and I are here, pet,” Iason told him, and Riki crawled towards the sound of his voice.

“I can't...” he moaned. “Turn it off, please...”

As Iason watched, the mongrel's body made the strangest undulating movement. “I'm gonna throw up!” Riki said urgently, and indeed there was a gurgling in him that grew louder until it exited him in a loud belch. After that, Riki groaned in humiliation, keeping his head down, lowering his forearms to the floor.

Iason did not realise the mongrel was crying until tiny splashes of his tears landed on the floor. Again, that tantalising rush of heat. Iason let it happen to him, never taking his eyes away from the mongrel at his feet.

“I'll do anything you want,” Riki suddenly promised, moving forward, and then pressed a sloppy yet fervent kiss to Iason's toes. “Please...”

“You know what I wish,” Iason said, unaffected and unbothered by the pet's bodily functions, or his pleading.

The heat in him only increased when Riki seemed to draw back, swallowing thickly, then turned himself so that he was leaning back, legs spread open to improve Iason's view. Without chains he did it, obedient to Iason's order. In contrast to the other times, the mongrel did not seem minded to look up, and kept his head down, his shoulders hunched in shame and exhaustion as he touched himself.

Iason let that pass, because he was experiencing the strangest sensations. Something was different. He drew in a sudden short breath, hardly noticeable, certainly not audible, but it was somehow thrilling. For a moment there, he was sure his breathing had synchronised with Riki's, which was impossible. The thrill itself... Iason struggled to classify it. It felt as if he had been upgraded in some way. His perceptions were clearer, sharper. Every sound the mongrel made was exquisite to his ears, the sight of him... there it was again! A sudden urgent leaping sensation.

Again, he drew in a mistimed breath, and now Riki looked up at him, staring into his eyes. But there wasn't even a hint of his former spirit. “Turn me off,” he pleaded, as if he were some toy that Iason operated, his hand still moving up and down. Iason was captivated. He shook his head, and in response to that his pet stopped what he was doing and collapsed onto the floor as if unconscious.

All of the new sensations Iason had been enjoying came to a sharp shuddering halt, and a part of his mind recoiled slightly.

“If you do not,” he said, his voice as serene as ever, “I shall put you back in your room to sleep on the floor.”

Riki proved he was awake by groaning, his lower body shifting around. The ring was still working on him, after all.

“But if you manage it, I shall take you to my bed tonight.” Iason blinked, unsure why he'd issued the ultimatum. But that rush... the words he had spoken made him feel it again, even though the mongrel whispered a pained 'fuck you' into the silence.

Before Iason could react, he had pulled himself upright again, and was touching himself with more vigour. In his haste he'd changed the angle.

“Show me,” Iason commanded, and Riki realised his error, turning slightly without ever stopping the blurred motion of his hand. “Slower,” Iason said, and Riki scowled but obeyed. Was it such a reward he had offered? Iason wondered.

It took the mongrel longer to achieve climax this way, and yet by the time he did, Iason felt as if he did more than watch. It was as though he shared in it, partaking of the pet's pleasure vicariously. None of Iason's other pets had done this for him, and he wondered now if they had been defective in some way. If this is what it was to own a pet, then Iason could suddenly understand why they were so very popular.

“Turn it off!” Riki gasped from the floor, and Iason touched the ring on his finger, freeing Riki from its effect... for now. As soon as he was free, he slumped as if he would sleep right there on the floor, covered in his own mess. Iason sighed fondly. He had earned his reward, if that is what it was. The anger he felt earlier had dissipated, replaced instead by a kind of pride that Riki was his. It was a good, strangely peaceful feeling.

Iason waited near the mongrel's body where he lay on the floor. “Can you stand?” he asked. Riki swore, but made an attempt to gain his feet, helped somewhat when Iason assisted him. As they walked, he stumbled, so Iason merely swept him off his feet and carried him in his arms.

“Hey! I'm not a kid! Let me down!” He struggled weakly, his legs kicking out, his hands pushing against Iason's chest.

“Your body is no longer efficient,” Iason reported.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Suddenly Riki's eyes were wide in fear and he froze. “What are you going to do to me?”

Iason frowned. It was evident there had been some misunderstanding on Riki's part. “I am going to carry you,” he replied simply. The pet relaxed in his arms as if he'd been injected with morphine, and he was much easier to manage then.

“Oh,” Riki said, then was silent for a moment as Iason walked towards his room. “I hate you, you know that?”

“I do indeed, but it makes no difference, pet.”

Riki sighed in dissatisfaction, then grabbed a handful of his long hair, studying it. “Blondie,” he murmured, apparently to himself, wrapping a strand of it around his finger. By the time Iason came to set him on his feet in front of his private shower cubicle, the pet had sucked the end of that strand of hair into his mouth, and was looking up at him with the strangest look on his face, as if he was trying to be seductive. Didn't he have any notion of their roles here? Iason merely shook his head at the silliness and pulled his hair out of Riki's grip.

“Wait here,” Iason said, and set about taking his own shower, washing his hair carefully. As he did so, he recalled how the pet had looked a few moments ago, and he felt himself smile genuinely. By the time he had finished, the smile was gone, and he exited the cubicle to find Riki slumped tiredly against the wall.

“Take your own shower, then you may join me on the bed,” he said, wondering just how much Daryl did for the pet. Was he capable? But then Riki hauled himself to his feet and walked into the cubicle, shutting the door behind him without a word. Iason took his time drying his hair and body, and seeing to the rest of his nightly ritual, then went and reclined on the bed. The ambient temperature was warm enough that covers were not necessary. He amused himself as he waited by replaying everything that had happened since Riki was set free from the chair.

When the mongrel appeared in the frame of the bathroom door, Iason patted the bed. He'd wrapped a towel around him. “If you are dry, remove the towel. If you are not, use it. Either way, do not cover your body, pet.”

To his surprise Riki did not argue, but discarded the towel with a sigh. He walked to the bed and settled at the foot of it. Iason lie back and watched, curious to see what he would do next. To his surprise, Riki dipped his head and kissed Iason's feet. This time, he was not sloppy, and he made a decent job of it. After a few ardent kisses, he cradled Iason's right foot in his hands and rubbed his cheek along the instep. With his eyes closed, he sucked Iason's big toe into his mouth. It was hot and moist inside, and Iason blinked.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, and his voice was a fraction faster than he would normally employ. Riki drew back, blinked, and looked up the bed, his expression haunted, something hollow in his eyes.

“Don't you want me to?” he murmured, and Iason shook his head, patting the bed beside him again.

“Come here, and lie beside me.”

Riki did as he asked, submitting to being arranged as Iason guided him to lie on his side, facing away, so that his back was pressed to Iason's chest. The pet suddenly trembled, and a kind of tension built in him as Iason stroked fingertips over his skin.

“I will eat!” he said urgently, as if Iason had threatened him in some way.

“Oh, I know you will,” Iason replied. He propped up his head behind Riki on one elbow, while his other arm draped comfortably over the mongrel's body. “Go to sleep,” he advised.

“B-but,” Riki stammered, swallowing audibly. “Don't you want me?” He asked the question as if he could not believe he was doing it. Iason understood his reference, but it made no sense. It was such a ridiculous notion he hadn't even given it a single thought.

“Of course I want you,” he said, reaching out with his hand to wave at the light sensor, leaving them in darkness and moonlight. Both moons were half full, and cast a muted glow over the shapes in the room. “My pet. Forever. That is what you are now. I made you mine.”

“No, you didn't,” Riki argued, but his voice was fuzzy and slipping away into dreams already, the events of the afternoon and evening taking their toll. Soon, he was asleep, yet Iason remained awake.

As an android he did not require sleep, and it pleased him better to stay aware with Riki in his arms, his body warm with sleep and trusting in a way he never was while awake. For the first hour or so, he confined himself to gentle stroking, exploring the mongrel's body little by little. The first time he noticed Riki become hard at his touch, he was amazed. In fact, he checked the ring to ensure he hadn't inadvertently activated it. At his touch alone! Iason felt that rush of power again, and he began to see how many times he could inspire that reaction, until Riki was half awake and restless.

“Goway,” Riki mumbled, pushing Iason's hand from his body. “I'm tired.”

Iason waited for him to sink deep into sleep, then began with the careful caress once more. In his sleep, Riki moaned, wanton and willing, his head pushing back against Iason's shoulder, his open mouth pressed to Iason's collarbone. Only as he surfaced did he resist, pushing Iason's hand away again.

“Why don't you go and wank yourself off or something? Honestly, Guy... let me alone...”

Of course he'd known much about Riki before taking him for his own, and he'd known about the relationship he shared with his running mate. As much as he could know, at any rate. Still, hearing Riki say his name in his sleep while Iason was touching him ignited something new in the Blondie android. A kind of hurting feeling. Roughly, he shook Riki awake properly, turning him onto his back while Iason loomed over his prone form.

“You will not think of Guy again,” he instructed as Riki's eyes opened in the faint light of morning. “That life is over.”

“W-what?” asked Riki, confusion all over his face. “What are you even talking about?” He made to sit up, so Iason merely rolled over to lie atop him, effectively holding him down. There was a flare of panic in Riki's eyes at that, and he gulped, twisting his head from side-to-side.

“Whatever you say, alright? I don't know. Get off me.” He spoke too quickly, babbling. Iason did not move so much as a quarter inch.

“You said his name in your sleep,” he accused. Riki looked even more scared, if that were possible.

“I can't help my dreams,” he said, shocked. “No one can.”

“You will attempt it,” Iason told him, knowing he was being unfair, but caring little. “Else I will find a way to erase him from your mind.”

Actually, he had no intention of tinkering with Riki's mind in that sense, but after having witnessed the effect of the feeding session, it was quite clear that the pet responded more readily to coercion than patience. He was sure that he could come up with an experience visceral enough to make Riki forget his former partner.

“Seriously, back the fuck off,” Riki said, his eyes so wide Iason could see the whites of them. “You're frightening me.”

Iason merely smiled. “I always frighten you,” he observed as Riki shivered in his grip.

“Yeah, w-well... you don't need to be so p-proud of it,” he stammered.

“Oh, Riki,” Iason said, prepared to be indulgent in this part of his tutelage. “Let me tell you a little about Blondie pride.” The mongrel struggled fruitlessly, and Iason waited until he gave up before continuing, ensuring that Riki heard every word.

“One way or another, you will give me everything I wish, everything I desire, no matter how degrading you may personally find it. When you exist to delight me, and you are the perfect pet and plaything, I will display your submission to the entirety of Blondie society. They will be impressed by you, enamoured of your eager will to please. Many of them will offer me money to breed you with their own pets. I may or may not take up those offers. If I do take them up, you will couple with other pets in front of us, for our entertainment. I will be proud of you then.”

While he spoke, several expressions had flitted over his pet's face; fear, horror, disgust and dread. “Never,” he said. “I will eat, but I will never do... be that.”

“Oh, you will. Eating is merely the first step. I expect that when you are perfected, you will thank me every day for keeping you.”

For a moment, Riki only stared at him, then he screamed out loud, right in Iason's face, his body writhing to get free so violently it was a wonder he didn't hurt himself. “Fuck you! Fuck me! Fuck Daryl, and fuck this shit! I am so done here!”

Iason let him continue, as he expounded on his theory that Iason himself was a mechanical monster, with valve oil running in his veins, and ice in place of a heart, and a cock that he didn't know what to do with. It was all extremely colourful, but ultimately pointless. Riki took a breath.

“Why don't you just toss me on some pet scrapheap somewhere? I don't give a flying fuck. Set me to work in the brothels in Midas. Pick anyone else in Ceres you want. They'll give you a bit of rough, and they'll crawl on their knees to do it if that's what you want, but let me go!”

At last, when Riki seemed to have tired, Iason smiled at him. “No.”

Something seemed to occur to the mongrel, and he took in a deep shocked breath. “You...” he said, accusing. “You like it when I shout at you!” He struggled again. “Oh, fuck me, I am never getting out of here!”

Iason laughed, genuinely, and it felt fantastic. Indeed. Riki was not going anywhere.


To be continued...

Author's Note: Thank you for reading – I hope you're enjoying it. Next up will be the first sex scene between them, and I'd be willing to bet you've never read anything like it. Well, I never have at any rate. Please leave a comment – I will respond! :)