"The Theremin's Protege Affair" Pt 1, Ch 4
The Theremin's Protege Affair
-a Man from UNCLE slash fanfic by Taylor Dancinghands
Pairing: Napoleon Solo/Illya Kuryakin
Genre: slash, h/c, BDSM, A/U: BDSM Universe (Origionally created by Xanthe )
Warnings: m/m sex; explicit BDSM ==>THIS CHAPTER!!<==; gratuitous insertion of classic newspaper comics.
Rating: adult, aka NC-17
Beta: The highly precise and efficient
spikesgirl58 Thanks!
Length: 3 parts. 1st part (4 chapters) ~19,000 words. Parts 2 & 3 probably similar.
Summary: The disappearance of a KGB scientist spurs Illya's -probably permanent- recall to the Soviet Union, but both he and Napoleon come to conclude that a dissolution of their partnership is not acceptable to either of them. There is only one way for Illya to be allowed to return from the USSR, and it requires Napoleon to undertake great personal risk. Other, more subtle risks will be required of Illya, and though they will be allowed to work together, it will be under such conditions that it may work a profound change in each of them and in their relationship. A sequel to The Top to Bottom to Switch Affair, this story will make considerably more sense if you read that first.
Chapter 1 and Index
~~~~~
The Theremin's Protege Affair
Part One: The Other Shoe
Chapter 4
"And that's two more, I'm afraid," woke him rather abruptly. Startled, Illya sat splashily upright and uttered a rather earthy Russian swear before he thought the better of it.
"I'd give you another for bad language," Napoleon said laughingly, "but it's an even ten now, so I think we'll leave it at that."
"My apologies," Illya said, honestly contrite. "I was meditating as you instructed, but the result was that I came to feel most relaxed and… comforted... and I am afraid that my attention to wakefulness slipped."
"Comforted?" Illya could hear the glow of pride in Napoleon's voice. "Now that's a fine thing to hear."
"It is the truth," Illya said softly, feeling Napoleon's hand in his, drawing him up. Napoleon's hands moved to frame his face the second he was standing, kissing him deeply but tenderly as well.
"I'm going to take you down deep now," Napoleon said, his voice low and compelling as he guided Illya out of the tub and began to dry him. "Probably deeper than you've ever gone before. I know you trust me… and how much you trust me, but don't forget that I'm trusting you too. I'm trusting you to use that safeword if I go too far. This isn't about what may lie in the future, but only about right now. That's all you need to consider."
"I understand," Illya said, reaching out to find his Top's heart and laying his hand there. "I won't let you hurt me."
"Ah, God, Illya," Napoleon sighed, pressing the length of Illya's body against his own. "You know you're my world… my whole world, my Illyushka. And you'd never let me hurt you, but you will let me make you suffer… just for me."
Illya felt his heart move, pressed against Napoleon's own heart. "Only for you," he said, knowing himself ready for whatever Napoleon would subject him to next. This began with Napoleon leading him to the bedroom and placing Illya on the bed on his hands and knees. There was something large and solid on the bed next to him and when he bumped his shoulder against it, realized that it was Napoleon's custom made, padded restraint frame. So there would be restrain in his future, but that was hardly a surprise now, was it?
He remained as Napoleon instructed him, hearing his Top moving about the room for a moment, then the distinctive sound of trousers being opened and unzipped. Then there were fingers being pushed into him, slick with lube. He was still considerably relaxed from the hours of wearing the butt plug, plus the bath, so the usual preparations took very little time.
"Oh, yes, you are ready for me, aren't you?" Napoleon murmured, replacing two fingers with three, stretching him wide open. Then the fingers were removed and Illya actually whimpered… and actually didn't care.
"Shh, shh," Napoleon comforted, stroking Illya's back. "I'll give you what you need… I'll give you more than you need… Just remember, no coming." Then he thrust himself deep into Illya and both of them groaned aloud.
Napoleon let himself rest within Illya's body for a moment, then began making small thrusts, pressing himself deeper still. "God Almighty, I think I could stay here forever," Napoleon sighed.
And I would let you, Illya thought to himself,
"But this is just a little preparation for you…" Napoleon continued with a moan and a gasp and then pulled out. Illya refrained from whimpering again, but only just barely. "For you… I have something even bigger."
Illya felt a moment of alarm, then reminded himself that he was in Napoleon's care. He drew a centering breath as Napoleon applied yet more lube to his opening, and then something —something decidedly bigger than Napoleon's cock— was pressing against his opening.
Illya could not contain his whimpers now. The size of the thing! Napoleon was pushing it in slowly and gently but still…
"I'm pretty sure that this is bigger than anything you've ever taken…" Illya nodded and Napoleon stroked his hair calming him. "You need to tell me if it's too much, all right? If it's really hurting you, if anything doesn't feel right, you let me know."
"I will," Illya gasped, knowing his spoken assent was required. "It is… bigger than anything I've taken before… but I think I can manage it… I think… it will be very good…"
At the moment, the enormous intrusion into his body was uncomfortable to say the least. He'd never been stretched so far open before, never even tried to take anything so large, and it was almost terrifying… in a delicious sort of way. Illya panted through the fear, the tension, his body's instinctive rejection of the intruder, and little by little felt himself become used to it. Then Napoleon would push it in deeper still.
Illya whimpered. He begged, though he could not say what he was begging for, and all through it Napoleon soothed him, speaking soft endearments, stroking his skin and keeping him grounded. Finally, there was no more to take.
"That's it," Napoleon announced with pride. "You've taken it all, Illya. I knew you could do it. I knew you could take it… You are so very good… so perfect…"
He'd taken it all! Illya groaned with relief and felt flushed with pride. He'd never imagined feeling so full, so… taken, and, though it was a dildo and not Napoleon's cock, still it was Napoleon who'd taken him, claimed him in yet one more way.
"You know, I bought this dildo to prepare my subs for fisting," Napoleon said conversationally, still stroking Illya calmingly. "I don't suppose you've ever been fisted?" Illya shook his head.
"I'm actually glad to hear that, because I can't imagine that any of you past partners would have done it right," Napoleon continued. "And having it done wrong… well that's not something you want to experience. My Dom Master insisted that I experience it, as some Tops actually train their subs to do it to them, and for good reason. It's an incredibly intense experience, and intensely pleasurable… if done right. Someday, if you like, I'd be happy to show you."
Illya nodded, feeling the tension and discomfort of the immense dildo inside him fade, leaving him deeply aroused and deep in his subspace. Napoleon seemed to sense this, possibly watching his sub's body become gradually more relaxed.
"Think you can manage standing for a few minutes?" he asked.
Illya drew a long breath and considered it. "I think… possibly, yes," he said.
"All right, slowly now…" Napoleon helped him carefully to his feet as Illya whimpered and panted at the sensations of the dildo moving inside him. "I'll be as quick as I can," Napoleon said now, doing something, Illya thought, with rope. "We'll have you off your feet again soon enough."
Napoleon began by cuffing Illya's wrists behind his back with a pair of joined leather sleeves which prevented him from shifting or crossing his wrists. Illya moaned softly with arousal at being restrained, well past any considerations of his dignity. Next Napoleon began to go to work with the rope, starting by placing a loop over Illya's head which lay on his shoulders and passed between his legs, framing his genitals. Then Napoleon began to pull other lengths of rope around him, weaving a net tightly around his whole body. Napoleon was tying him into a rope dress.
^^^^^^
Like this, but without the ball gag or underwear. Decidedly NSFW!!
^^^^^^
He'd seen pictures of such things, possibly even seen another sub restrained in such at some club and if he happened to be in a subby state of mind, he'd always felt a twinge of envy, as he'd never found anyone who would take such pains with him. Illya sighed with profound pleasure as the ropes covered more and more of his body, passing around his cock and balls, securing the massive plug in his ass, and wrapping him tight and immobile.
Finally Napoleon tied off the ropes and placed one more set of cuffs on his sub, on his thighs, just above his knees. These he left unattached for the moment, and placed an arm over Illya's shoulders to guide him around to face the bed. Napoleon settled him the bondage frame as he wished —kneeling, and bent over face down— then placed a spreader bar between Illya's thighs and fastened the thigh cuffs to it. Happily drifting in a haze of subby comforts, Illya felt himself being secured at half a dozen points, so that he was truly immobile. Helpless to stop himself, he tested the bonds, struggling, writhing within his confines. Illya moaned in ecstasy at his failure to free himself.
"Hush now," Napoleon said, running his hand over Illya's skin and the ropes that secured him, from shoulder to buttocks. "I've got you. You're not going anywhere." Napoleon's hand lingered on Illya's exposed backside and suddenly Illya realized what had to come next.
Napoleon stepped away from him now and Illya could hear him moving about the room. Eventually he came to a stop, standing to Illya's left. Illya could hear him breathing.
"You're smart enough to figure out where we are in our evening, yes?" Napoleon asked now.
"Is it time for my punishment, then?" Illya asked in return, feeling strangely accepting.
"You've earned ten strokes from my cane," Napoleon said by way of answering. "You'll count each stroke as it falls."
"Yes, Napoleon," Illya answered, lowering his head to rest against the padded frame. The first stroke, when it came, made him shout.
"One!" Illya cried, gasping with shock. He'd been caned before, but not since his Navy days. He'd forgotten the deep, biting pain of a caning. The bite came again, searing across his buttocks.
"Two!" he shouted, thinking how far he had to go yet. So many infractions he'd committed, from sarcasm and smugness to distrust and disobedience. He had, indeed, earned every one of these strokes.
"Three!" The pain cut deep, eating into the very heart of him. It would consume him before the end, Illya was sure.
"Four!" Illya heard his voice break as he cried out the number, his body uselessly striving against his bonds.
"Five!" The last vestiges of his control shattered, even the numbers he shouted were losing their meaning. Illya was losing himself in the pain.
"Six!" he sobbed, breath heaving. His intellectual, even emotional self was stripped away. He was animal flesh, no more, suffering at his Top's command.
"S… seven!" he gasped. The fight was gone out of him now, the pain no longer an intrusion, but his very essence.
"Eight!" he choked out. Eight fiery brands across his backside, each placed there with care by his Top and for that reason, something to be revelled in.
"N… n-nine." He was a vessel, no more, for Napoleon's will. Whether he be filled with pain or pleasure, it must be all the same to him… and it was, somehow. The pain was no longer hurting him, for he was no longer opposing it. He could accept it and take whatever Napoleon wished him to.
"Ten!!" he wailed in triumph and agony. He'd done it! He'd taken all ten strokes and his ecstasy suffused his suffering till they were one. In the silence that followed he became aware of another series of harsh breaths, coming as a counterpoint to his own. Footsteps moved around the bed to stand… no, kneel before him and now his Top's hands were framing his face, lifting him to be kissed with a passion that burned no less than the ten welts on his backside.
"My, Illyushka, my sweet, magnificent sub," he murmured, laying more kisses on his face. "You did it, all ten, and so beautifully. You'll have your reward soon, I promise. Very soon."
"Thank you," Illya said with a wrecked voice, and sniffled. Napoleon returned a moment later with a handful of Kleenex, helping Illya blow his nose and then wiping his eyes under the blindfold.
"No. Thank you," Napoleon said. "You are a gift to me, Illya, more precious than anything." Illya smiled at the praise, basking in Napoleon's endearments.
"In fact, we're going to have our rewards together," Napoleon commented now, rising to stand before Illya now. "I've been wearing a cock ring this whole time, you know. Since I came and found you asleep in the bath, anyhow. But I'm done with personal restraint for this evening…" there was a pause as Napoleon was probably removing said restraint, "and now I'm going to fuck your pretty, pretty mouth, my Illyushka, and I'm going to fuck it hard. You can come when I do. But first, I must have a closer look at my handiwork."
Illya almost came at Napoleon's declaration of his intentions, but held himself back with the promise that he would not have to wait much longer. He moaned with anticipation and waited to feel his Top's cock at his lips. Instead he heard Napoleon move around to stand behind him, then Illya drew a sharp breath at the slow caress of Napoleon's hand over the ten long welts across his ass.
"Perfectly spaced, if I do say so myself," Napoleon said. "Ah, someday my Illyushka, I'll spank this ass till it's cherry read, and then fuck it while it's still blazing hot from my hand."
Now Illya felt his Top lean over him where he lay bound on the frame, and Illya realized that at last Napoleon was entirely naked. Then he felt Napoleon's cock, hard and eager, pressing against his welted ass.
"Please!" Illya groaned, mindless with longing.
"Please what?" Napoleon asked, maddeningly, making little thrusts against Illya's over sensitized ass.
"Please!" Illya gasped. "Please… fuck me!" It was the only thing he could think to say; the only thing that would ease the terrible wanting in him.
"Well, when you ask so nicely," Napoleon smiled with his voice and then he was coming back around to stand before Illya, and then there was a fist in his hair, lifting his head up to meet the cock at his lips.
"You'll take it," Napoleon commanded. "You'll take everything I have to give you." And Illya moaned in desire and opened his mouth to take his Top's cock.
From the very start Napoleon thrust into him almost brutally, fucking Illya's throat deep and fast. Utterly immobile —even more than he'd been this morning— Illya knew himself to be nothing more than an orifice for his Top's pleasure, and submitting himself to such use was a sublime joy that he would never have words to express. Napoleon thrust into him with a driving rhythm and Illya gasped and panted between Napoleon's thrusts and felt his own cock grow almost painfully hard. This could not last much longer for either one of them.
And it didn't. Suddenly Napoleon wasn't gripping his hair, but tearing off his blindfold, growling, "Eyes closed! Tight Closed now!" Illya did as instructed without so much as a thought and then Napoleon's cock was jerked out of his mouth and then something was spattering warm over his face and then… oh!
And then… Illya let go.
Illya was not at all sure he could have held back, the moment he realized that Napoleon had come on his face, even If Napoleon had not told Illya he could come when his Top did. The realization came with the impact of a small atom bomb in Illya's psyche, and the very last shreds of any self-control Illya left had were utterly vaporized. He was not sure, but he thought he might actually have screamed. The waves of ecstasy that coursed through his body also seized around the enormous dildo in his ass and caused his prostate to be prodded mercilessly, and this set off a sort of feedback effect that had Illya crying out his climax for what seemed several minutes.
Napoleon, Illya considered as his brain finally began to engage once more, seemed to have endured an equivalent experience, as he was now kneeling on the floor, collapsed against Illya and sobbing, "Jesus… Jesus Christ almighty, Illya…" It was some considerable span of time before either of them had the willpower to do much more than just breathe.
It was Napoleon who eventually stirred first —as was right and proper, for he was the Top. He kissed Illya's lips as he drew back, then said, "I'll be back in a moment with a washcloth."
Illya had absolutely no desire to move so much as his little finger, but the come on his face was starting to cool and dry, and though the oversized dildo in his ass still felt arousing in its discomfort, soon enough it would become just plain uncomfortable. Napoleon was back in a moment, however, to wash Illya's face with a warm wet cloth first of all. He cleaned around Illya's tightly shut eyes carefully, combing a few stray locks of Illya's hair out of his face when he was done.
"You may open your eyes any time you like," Napoleon said softly, "or you can leave them closed for now. It's up to you. I'll be several minutes getting you out of all this."
Illya nodded, content to remain in the dark for now. "I'm going to take the dildo out first," Napoleon explained. "It may be a little uncomfortable, but if you feel anything that doesn't seem right, let me know."
"Mm hmm," Illya answered foggily. He could feel Napoleon fiddling with the ropes which held the dildo in place, and could tell when they loosened. Then there was a gentle tugging at the dildo until it gave way, slowly sliding out. Illya seemed to feel a general shifting of his internal organs in its absence, but nothing alarming.
"There we go," Napoleon said when it was out. "Everything feel okay back there?"
"It aches a bit," Illya said, knowing a more coherent response was required of him now. "But nothing more."
"I imagine you'll be feeling it for a few days… along with a few other things," Napoleon replied, running his hand over the welts on Illya's ass again. At this Illya's eyes, at last, flew open, but fortunately the room was not too brightly lit.
"It will be a reminder that I will appreciate in the days to come," Illya said truthfully.
"Glad to hear it," Napoleon replied, setting to work releasing Illya's wrists. As with all things, Napoleon was careful and considerate with Illya as he unbound him —massaging his shoulders once his arms were free and carefully easing him off the frame and onto his side when he came to remove the upper part of the rope dress. Once everything was removed from Illya and put away, Napoleon came to join him on the bed, drawing Illya carefully into his arms and holding him close.
Instinctively, Illya wrapped his arms around his Top in turn, feeling the need for closeness so strongly that he came to wonder if this transformation Napoleon had worked upon him was permanent. He felt so terribly clingy and needy at the moment, and that was so utterly unlike him… and yet the same seemed to hold true for Napoleon, whose arms held Illya with equivalent desperation.
Head still swimming with the pleasant effects of their scene, Illya considered that Napoleon was likely as much 'under the influence' as he was, and that this clinginess would pass in time. Knowing that, he could enjoy it now, basking in the closeness of his Top and their reciprocal affection.
This precipitated, after some time, into kissing, which seemed to evolve organically from both of them. They were slow, lingering kisses without the hungry urgency of unsated lust, nor the desperate longing of an impending parting. These were kisses which merely existed, outside of time, almost, both of them entirely in the moment as they tasted one another. In time, however, hunger of a sort did intrude and it was of the more conventional sort, which made itself known audibly in Illya's stomach.
Illya was inclined to ignore it at first, but Napoleon could not, taking his duties in caring for his sub must seriously. He coaxed Illya carefully upright and then onto his feet —sitting being something that Illya was going to find uncomfortable for a few days. Napoleon dressed him in silk boxers, which were almost pleasant against his abraded skin, and a robe, dressing himself similarly. In the kitchen, the kneeling bench was still sitting next to the table, so Illya perched himself there while Napoleon turned the heat back on under the soup and lit the broiler for garlic bread.
Moving from the dimly lit bedroom to the brightly lit kitchen made Illya blink a lot and he let his eyes drift closed again as he sat at the table taking in the smells of the food Napoleon was preparing. Illya saw that he would be feeding himself when Napoleon put a plate and tableware in front of him and found that he neither regretted the end of his being fed nor particularly anticipated feeding himself. Slowly, he was emerging from his deep submission, but at a comfortable, leisurely pace.
Once his eyes had become accustomed to the bright kitchen lights, he found it pleasant to watch Napoleon move about the kitchen half clothed. It was almost fair compensation, he considered, for not being able to see his lover all day. Soon enough there was soup and fragrant garlic bread sitting in front of Illya, and his appetite roused itself as always —a part of Illya that would never, ever be submissive. As he enjoyed his food, however, he also enjoyed glancing over at the slightly besotted smile on Napoleon's face as he watched Illya eat.
"I didn't think," Napoleon said when they'd mostly finished their meal, "about the consequences of the Russians seeing you marked like this. It'll be clear that you've been playing and no one's applied to the consulate for permission to Top you. Is that going to cause problems?" Illya shook his head.
"Actually, you have applied for permission to Top me," he explained. "It was the first of the forms that you submitted prior to your official challenge application. It makes no difference at any rate. Reznikov won't be happy to see me marked whether I had permission or not and I don't care."
"Are you sure Illya?" Napoleon said with concern. "They could make your life a living hell and it may be weeks before I'm able to get my challenge scheduled and come for you."
"They will try," Illya said, reaching out to take Napoleon's hand, "but they will not be able to do any real harm. For starters, the fact that I am a former UNCLE asset will prevent them from killing or permanently maiming me, just as my being a former KGB asset restricted what I could do here in the US, but more importantly," Illya drew a breath, searching for words to express a thing he never imagined he would want to say.
"Napoleon, you have put your fingerprints on my very soul. They are indelible. Reznikov and his cronies in the Politbureau have no chance of touching me in any way that matters, no matter what they do. If they make me suffer, I will be suffering for you. If they force pleasures on me, they will be yours. That is the gift you have given me today."
Illya had seen Napoleon look less stricken after having been shot. His eyes were wide and very bright. "Illya," he began, his voice catching slightly. "My Illyushka… I would say I didn't mean to, but that makes me sound incompetent…"
"And you are anything but…" Illya put in with a smile.
"Yes, well," Napoleon continued, clearing his throat. "Let's just say I didn't know my own strength and that… there's something like an Illya-shaped vestibule in my own soul and I'll never be complete without you by my side to fill it."
They sat in silence, Napoleon's fingers interlacing with Illya's on the kitchen table, and let the impact of their statements sink in.
"I suppose," Illya said after a long moment, "that in the light of such declarations, even a collar seems irrelevant."
"It may be that it does," Napoleon said with an indulgent smile. "Now, who wants cheesecake?"
*^*^*
AN: Part Two is underway, and will be completed in a few weeks Here's a little sneak peak:
At last, the old Soviet fossil in the center of the table (probably some high level party functionary) stood and rapped a gavel, alerting all in the room to rise, and opening the hearing. Napoleon stood as well, ramrod straight as befitting any American Air Force officer. Of course the entire procedure would take place in Russian, and Napoleon had continued to polish up his language skills after Ilya had left, arranging a second meeting with Theremin just for Russian language practice. The Ministry fellow who'd met him at the airport had inquired, condescendingly, if he wanted a translator for the proceedings, but Napoleon had declined, much to his surprise.
"Here begins the custodial hearing for the submissive, Illya Nickovetch Kuryakin," the old party boss began, gesturing everyone to sit, "pertaining to the challenge claim by the foreigner, Napoleon Solo. Is Mr. Solo present before us now?"
"I stand before you," said Napoleon, who had not sat. "Napoleon Solo, Section One Number One of the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement and former United States Air Force Captain. I present myself to you to make proprietary claim for the submissive, Agent Illya Nickovetch Kuryakin."
This had been the most complicated speech he'd had to learn, and the most important, but he rattled it off now without batting an eye.
"And by what right do you make this claim?" the old party functionary asked him now.
"I make this claim by right of loyalty," Napoleon answered as he'd practiced. "As Agent Kuryakin has declared and demonstrated his loyalty to me and me alone, by both word and deed during the past two years during which time we worked together as partners for the U.N.C.L.E."
*^*^*^*^*
Chapter 5
-a Man from UNCLE slash fanfic by Taylor Dancinghands
Pairing: Napoleon Solo/Illya Kuryakin
Genre: slash, h/c, BDSM, A/U: BDSM Universe (Origionally created by Xanthe )
Warnings: m/m sex; explicit BDSM ==>THIS CHAPTER!!<==; gratuitous insertion of classic newspaper comics.
Rating: adult, aka NC-17
Beta: The highly precise and efficient
spikesgirl58 Thanks!Length: 3 parts. 1st part (4 chapters) ~19,000 words. Parts 2 & 3 probably similar.
Summary: The disappearance of a KGB scientist spurs Illya's -probably permanent- recall to the Soviet Union, but both he and Napoleon come to conclude that a dissolution of their partnership is not acceptable to either of them. There is only one way for Illya to be allowed to return from the USSR, and it requires Napoleon to undertake great personal risk. Other, more subtle risks will be required of Illya, and though they will be allowed to work together, it will be under such conditions that it may work a profound change in each of them and in their relationship. A sequel to The Top to Bottom to Switch Affair, this story will make considerably more sense if you read that first.
Chapter 1 and Index
~~~~~
The Theremin's Protege Affair
Part One: The Other Shoe
Chapter 4
"And that's two more, I'm afraid," woke him rather abruptly. Startled, Illya sat splashily upright and uttered a rather earthy Russian swear before he thought the better of it.
"I'd give you another for bad language," Napoleon said laughingly, "but it's an even ten now, so I think we'll leave it at that."
"My apologies," Illya said, honestly contrite. "I was meditating as you instructed, but the result was that I came to feel most relaxed and… comforted... and I am afraid that my attention to wakefulness slipped."
"Comforted?" Illya could hear the glow of pride in Napoleon's voice. "Now that's a fine thing to hear."
"It is the truth," Illya said softly, feeling Napoleon's hand in his, drawing him up. Napoleon's hands moved to frame his face the second he was standing, kissing him deeply but tenderly as well.
"I'm going to take you down deep now," Napoleon said, his voice low and compelling as he guided Illya out of the tub and began to dry him. "Probably deeper than you've ever gone before. I know you trust me… and how much you trust me, but don't forget that I'm trusting you too. I'm trusting you to use that safeword if I go too far. This isn't about what may lie in the future, but only about right now. That's all you need to consider."
"I understand," Illya said, reaching out to find his Top's heart and laying his hand there. "I won't let you hurt me."
"Ah, God, Illya," Napoleon sighed, pressing the length of Illya's body against his own. "You know you're my world… my whole world, my Illyushka. And you'd never let me hurt you, but you will let me make you suffer… just for me."
Illya felt his heart move, pressed against Napoleon's own heart. "Only for you," he said, knowing himself ready for whatever Napoleon would subject him to next. This began with Napoleon leading him to the bedroom and placing Illya on the bed on his hands and knees. There was something large and solid on the bed next to him and when he bumped his shoulder against it, realized that it was Napoleon's custom made, padded restraint frame. So there would be restrain in his future, but that was hardly a surprise now, was it?
He remained as Napoleon instructed him, hearing his Top moving about the room for a moment, then the distinctive sound of trousers being opened and unzipped. Then there were fingers being pushed into him, slick with lube. He was still considerably relaxed from the hours of wearing the butt plug, plus the bath, so the usual preparations took very little time.
"Oh, yes, you are ready for me, aren't you?" Napoleon murmured, replacing two fingers with three, stretching him wide open. Then the fingers were removed and Illya actually whimpered… and actually didn't care.
"Shh, shh," Napoleon comforted, stroking Illya's back. "I'll give you what you need… I'll give you more than you need… Just remember, no coming." Then he thrust himself deep into Illya and both of them groaned aloud.
Napoleon let himself rest within Illya's body for a moment, then began making small thrusts, pressing himself deeper still. "God Almighty, I think I could stay here forever," Napoleon sighed.
And I would let you, Illya thought to himself,
"But this is just a little preparation for you…" Napoleon continued with a moan and a gasp and then pulled out. Illya refrained from whimpering again, but only just barely. "For you… I have something even bigger."
Illya felt a moment of alarm, then reminded himself that he was in Napoleon's care. He drew a centering breath as Napoleon applied yet more lube to his opening, and then something —something decidedly bigger than Napoleon's cock— was pressing against his opening.
Illya could not contain his whimpers now. The size of the thing! Napoleon was pushing it in slowly and gently but still…
"I'm pretty sure that this is bigger than anything you've ever taken…" Illya nodded and Napoleon stroked his hair calming him. "You need to tell me if it's too much, all right? If it's really hurting you, if anything doesn't feel right, you let me know."
"I will," Illya gasped, knowing his spoken assent was required. "It is… bigger than anything I've taken before… but I think I can manage it… I think… it will be very good…"
At the moment, the enormous intrusion into his body was uncomfortable to say the least. He'd never been stretched so far open before, never even tried to take anything so large, and it was almost terrifying… in a delicious sort of way. Illya panted through the fear, the tension, his body's instinctive rejection of the intruder, and little by little felt himself become used to it. Then Napoleon would push it in deeper still.
Illya whimpered. He begged, though he could not say what he was begging for, and all through it Napoleon soothed him, speaking soft endearments, stroking his skin and keeping him grounded. Finally, there was no more to take.
"That's it," Napoleon announced with pride. "You've taken it all, Illya. I knew you could do it. I knew you could take it… You are so very good… so perfect…"
He'd taken it all! Illya groaned with relief and felt flushed with pride. He'd never imagined feeling so full, so… taken, and, though it was a dildo and not Napoleon's cock, still it was Napoleon who'd taken him, claimed him in yet one more way.
"You know, I bought this dildo to prepare my subs for fisting," Napoleon said conversationally, still stroking Illya calmingly. "I don't suppose you've ever been fisted?" Illya shook his head.
"I'm actually glad to hear that, because I can't imagine that any of you past partners would have done it right," Napoleon continued. "And having it done wrong… well that's not something you want to experience. My Dom Master insisted that I experience it, as some Tops actually train their subs to do it to them, and for good reason. It's an incredibly intense experience, and intensely pleasurable… if done right. Someday, if you like, I'd be happy to show you."
Illya nodded, feeling the tension and discomfort of the immense dildo inside him fade, leaving him deeply aroused and deep in his subspace. Napoleon seemed to sense this, possibly watching his sub's body become gradually more relaxed.
"Think you can manage standing for a few minutes?" he asked.
Illya drew a long breath and considered it. "I think… possibly, yes," he said.
"All right, slowly now…" Napoleon helped him carefully to his feet as Illya whimpered and panted at the sensations of the dildo moving inside him. "I'll be as quick as I can," Napoleon said now, doing something, Illya thought, with rope. "We'll have you off your feet again soon enough."
Napoleon began by cuffing Illya's wrists behind his back with a pair of joined leather sleeves which prevented him from shifting or crossing his wrists. Illya moaned softly with arousal at being restrained, well past any considerations of his dignity. Next Napoleon began to go to work with the rope, starting by placing a loop over Illya's head which lay on his shoulders and passed between his legs, framing his genitals. Then Napoleon began to pull other lengths of rope around him, weaving a net tightly around his whole body. Napoleon was tying him into a rope dress.
^^^^^^
Like this, but without the ball gag or underwear. Decidedly NSFW!!
^^^^^^
He'd seen pictures of such things, possibly even seen another sub restrained in such at some club and if he happened to be in a subby state of mind, he'd always felt a twinge of envy, as he'd never found anyone who would take such pains with him. Illya sighed with profound pleasure as the ropes covered more and more of his body, passing around his cock and balls, securing the massive plug in his ass, and wrapping him tight and immobile.
Finally Napoleon tied off the ropes and placed one more set of cuffs on his sub, on his thighs, just above his knees. These he left unattached for the moment, and placed an arm over Illya's shoulders to guide him around to face the bed. Napoleon settled him the bondage frame as he wished —kneeling, and bent over face down— then placed a spreader bar between Illya's thighs and fastened the thigh cuffs to it. Happily drifting in a haze of subby comforts, Illya felt himself being secured at half a dozen points, so that he was truly immobile. Helpless to stop himself, he tested the bonds, struggling, writhing within his confines. Illya moaned in ecstasy at his failure to free himself.
"Hush now," Napoleon said, running his hand over Illya's skin and the ropes that secured him, from shoulder to buttocks. "I've got you. You're not going anywhere." Napoleon's hand lingered on Illya's exposed backside and suddenly Illya realized what had to come next.
Napoleon stepped away from him now and Illya could hear him moving about the room. Eventually he came to a stop, standing to Illya's left. Illya could hear him breathing.
"You're smart enough to figure out where we are in our evening, yes?" Napoleon asked now.
"Is it time for my punishment, then?" Illya asked in return, feeling strangely accepting.
"You've earned ten strokes from my cane," Napoleon said by way of answering. "You'll count each stroke as it falls."
"Yes, Napoleon," Illya answered, lowering his head to rest against the padded frame. The first stroke, when it came, made him shout.
"One!" Illya cried, gasping with shock. He'd been caned before, but not since his Navy days. He'd forgotten the deep, biting pain of a caning. The bite came again, searing across his buttocks.
"Two!" he shouted, thinking how far he had to go yet. So many infractions he'd committed, from sarcasm and smugness to distrust and disobedience. He had, indeed, earned every one of these strokes.
"Three!" The pain cut deep, eating into the very heart of him. It would consume him before the end, Illya was sure.
"Four!" Illya heard his voice break as he cried out the number, his body uselessly striving against his bonds.
"Five!" The last vestiges of his control shattered, even the numbers he shouted were losing their meaning. Illya was losing himself in the pain.
"Six!" he sobbed, breath heaving. His intellectual, even emotional self was stripped away. He was animal flesh, no more, suffering at his Top's command.
"S… seven!" he gasped. The fight was gone out of him now, the pain no longer an intrusion, but his very essence.
"Eight!" he choked out. Eight fiery brands across his backside, each placed there with care by his Top and for that reason, something to be revelled in.
"N… n-nine." He was a vessel, no more, for Napoleon's will. Whether he be filled with pain or pleasure, it must be all the same to him… and it was, somehow. The pain was no longer hurting him, for he was no longer opposing it. He could accept it and take whatever Napoleon wished him to.
"Ten!!" he wailed in triumph and agony. He'd done it! He'd taken all ten strokes and his ecstasy suffused his suffering till they were one. In the silence that followed he became aware of another series of harsh breaths, coming as a counterpoint to his own. Footsteps moved around the bed to stand… no, kneel before him and now his Top's hands were framing his face, lifting him to be kissed with a passion that burned no less than the ten welts on his backside.
"My, Illyushka, my sweet, magnificent sub," he murmured, laying more kisses on his face. "You did it, all ten, and so beautifully. You'll have your reward soon, I promise. Very soon."
"Thank you," Illya said with a wrecked voice, and sniffled. Napoleon returned a moment later with a handful of Kleenex, helping Illya blow his nose and then wiping his eyes under the blindfold.
"No. Thank you," Napoleon said. "You are a gift to me, Illya, more precious than anything." Illya smiled at the praise, basking in Napoleon's endearments.
"In fact, we're going to have our rewards together," Napoleon commented now, rising to stand before Illya now. "I've been wearing a cock ring this whole time, you know. Since I came and found you asleep in the bath, anyhow. But I'm done with personal restraint for this evening…" there was a pause as Napoleon was probably removing said restraint, "and now I'm going to fuck your pretty, pretty mouth, my Illyushka, and I'm going to fuck it hard. You can come when I do. But first, I must have a closer look at my handiwork."
Illya almost came at Napoleon's declaration of his intentions, but held himself back with the promise that he would not have to wait much longer. He moaned with anticipation and waited to feel his Top's cock at his lips. Instead he heard Napoleon move around to stand behind him, then Illya drew a sharp breath at the slow caress of Napoleon's hand over the ten long welts across his ass.
"Perfectly spaced, if I do say so myself," Napoleon said. "Ah, someday my Illyushka, I'll spank this ass till it's cherry read, and then fuck it while it's still blazing hot from my hand."
Now Illya felt his Top lean over him where he lay bound on the frame, and Illya realized that at last Napoleon was entirely naked. Then he felt Napoleon's cock, hard and eager, pressing against his welted ass.
"Please!" Illya groaned, mindless with longing.
"Please what?" Napoleon asked, maddeningly, making little thrusts against Illya's over sensitized ass.
"Please!" Illya gasped. "Please… fuck me!" It was the only thing he could think to say; the only thing that would ease the terrible wanting in him.
"Well, when you ask so nicely," Napoleon smiled with his voice and then he was coming back around to stand before Illya, and then there was a fist in his hair, lifting his head up to meet the cock at his lips.
"You'll take it," Napoleon commanded. "You'll take everything I have to give you." And Illya moaned in desire and opened his mouth to take his Top's cock.
From the very start Napoleon thrust into him almost brutally, fucking Illya's throat deep and fast. Utterly immobile —even more than he'd been this morning— Illya knew himself to be nothing more than an orifice for his Top's pleasure, and submitting himself to such use was a sublime joy that he would never have words to express. Napoleon thrust into him with a driving rhythm and Illya gasped and panted between Napoleon's thrusts and felt his own cock grow almost painfully hard. This could not last much longer for either one of them.
And it didn't. Suddenly Napoleon wasn't gripping his hair, but tearing off his blindfold, growling, "Eyes closed! Tight Closed now!" Illya did as instructed without so much as a thought and then Napoleon's cock was jerked out of his mouth and then something was spattering warm over his face and then… oh!
And then… Illya let go.
Illya was not at all sure he could have held back, the moment he realized that Napoleon had come on his face, even If Napoleon had not told Illya he could come when his Top did. The realization came with the impact of a small atom bomb in Illya's psyche, and the very last shreds of any self-control Illya left had were utterly vaporized. He was not sure, but he thought he might actually have screamed. The waves of ecstasy that coursed through his body also seized around the enormous dildo in his ass and caused his prostate to be prodded mercilessly, and this set off a sort of feedback effect that had Illya crying out his climax for what seemed several minutes.
Napoleon, Illya considered as his brain finally began to engage once more, seemed to have endured an equivalent experience, as he was now kneeling on the floor, collapsed against Illya and sobbing, "Jesus… Jesus Christ almighty, Illya…" It was some considerable span of time before either of them had the willpower to do much more than just breathe.
It was Napoleon who eventually stirred first —as was right and proper, for he was the Top. He kissed Illya's lips as he drew back, then said, "I'll be back in a moment with a washcloth."
Illya had absolutely no desire to move so much as his little finger, but the come on his face was starting to cool and dry, and though the oversized dildo in his ass still felt arousing in its discomfort, soon enough it would become just plain uncomfortable. Napoleon was back in a moment, however, to wash Illya's face with a warm wet cloth first of all. He cleaned around Illya's tightly shut eyes carefully, combing a few stray locks of Illya's hair out of his face when he was done.
"You may open your eyes any time you like," Napoleon said softly, "or you can leave them closed for now. It's up to you. I'll be several minutes getting you out of all this."
Illya nodded, content to remain in the dark for now. "I'm going to take the dildo out first," Napoleon explained. "It may be a little uncomfortable, but if you feel anything that doesn't seem right, let me know."
"Mm hmm," Illya answered foggily. He could feel Napoleon fiddling with the ropes which held the dildo in place, and could tell when they loosened. Then there was a gentle tugging at the dildo until it gave way, slowly sliding out. Illya seemed to feel a general shifting of his internal organs in its absence, but nothing alarming.
"There we go," Napoleon said when it was out. "Everything feel okay back there?"
"It aches a bit," Illya said, knowing a more coherent response was required of him now. "But nothing more."
"I imagine you'll be feeling it for a few days… along with a few other things," Napoleon replied, running his hand over the welts on Illya's ass again. At this Illya's eyes, at last, flew open, but fortunately the room was not too brightly lit.
"It will be a reminder that I will appreciate in the days to come," Illya said truthfully.
"Glad to hear it," Napoleon replied, setting to work releasing Illya's wrists. As with all things, Napoleon was careful and considerate with Illya as he unbound him —massaging his shoulders once his arms were free and carefully easing him off the frame and onto his side when he came to remove the upper part of the rope dress. Once everything was removed from Illya and put away, Napoleon came to join him on the bed, drawing Illya carefully into his arms and holding him close.
Instinctively, Illya wrapped his arms around his Top in turn, feeling the need for closeness so strongly that he came to wonder if this transformation Napoleon had worked upon him was permanent. He felt so terribly clingy and needy at the moment, and that was so utterly unlike him… and yet the same seemed to hold true for Napoleon, whose arms held Illya with equivalent desperation.
Head still swimming with the pleasant effects of their scene, Illya considered that Napoleon was likely as much 'under the influence' as he was, and that this clinginess would pass in time. Knowing that, he could enjoy it now, basking in the closeness of his Top and their reciprocal affection.
This precipitated, after some time, into kissing, which seemed to evolve organically from both of them. They were slow, lingering kisses without the hungry urgency of unsated lust, nor the desperate longing of an impending parting. These were kisses which merely existed, outside of time, almost, both of them entirely in the moment as they tasted one another. In time, however, hunger of a sort did intrude and it was of the more conventional sort, which made itself known audibly in Illya's stomach.
Illya was inclined to ignore it at first, but Napoleon could not, taking his duties in caring for his sub must seriously. He coaxed Illya carefully upright and then onto his feet —sitting being something that Illya was going to find uncomfortable for a few days. Napoleon dressed him in silk boxers, which were almost pleasant against his abraded skin, and a robe, dressing himself similarly. In the kitchen, the kneeling bench was still sitting next to the table, so Illya perched himself there while Napoleon turned the heat back on under the soup and lit the broiler for garlic bread.
Moving from the dimly lit bedroom to the brightly lit kitchen made Illya blink a lot and he let his eyes drift closed again as he sat at the table taking in the smells of the food Napoleon was preparing. Illya saw that he would be feeding himself when Napoleon put a plate and tableware in front of him and found that he neither regretted the end of his being fed nor particularly anticipated feeding himself. Slowly, he was emerging from his deep submission, but at a comfortable, leisurely pace.
Once his eyes had become accustomed to the bright kitchen lights, he found it pleasant to watch Napoleon move about the kitchen half clothed. It was almost fair compensation, he considered, for not being able to see his lover all day. Soon enough there was soup and fragrant garlic bread sitting in front of Illya, and his appetite roused itself as always —a part of Illya that would never, ever be submissive. As he enjoyed his food, however, he also enjoyed glancing over at the slightly besotted smile on Napoleon's face as he watched Illya eat.
"I didn't think," Napoleon said when they'd mostly finished their meal, "about the consequences of the Russians seeing you marked like this. It'll be clear that you've been playing and no one's applied to the consulate for permission to Top you. Is that going to cause problems?" Illya shook his head.
"Actually, you have applied for permission to Top me," he explained. "It was the first of the forms that you submitted prior to your official challenge application. It makes no difference at any rate. Reznikov won't be happy to see me marked whether I had permission or not and I don't care."
"Are you sure Illya?" Napoleon said with concern. "They could make your life a living hell and it may be weeks before I'm able to get my challenge scheduled and come for you."
"They will try," Illya said, reaching out to take Napoleon's hand, "but they will not be able to do any real harm. For starters, the fact that I am a former UNCLE asset will prevent them from killing or permanently maiming me, just as my being a former KGB asset restricted what I could do here in the US, but more importantly," Illya drew a breath, searching for words to express a thing he never imagined he would want to say.
"Napoleon, you have put your fingerprints on my very soul. They are indelible. Reznikov and his cronies in the Politbureau have no chance of touching me in any way that matters, no matter what they do. If they make me suffer, I will be suffering for you. If they force pleasures on me, they will be yours. That is the gift you have given me today."
Illya had seen Napoleon look less stricken after having been shot. His eyes were wide and very bright. "Illya," he began, his voice catching slightly. "My Illyushka… I would say I didn't mean to, but that makes me sound incompetent…"
"And you are anything but…" Illya put in with a smile.
"Yes, well," Napoleon continued, clearing his throat. "Let's just say I didn't know my own strength and that… there's something like an Illya-shaped vestibule in my own soul and I'll never be complete without you by my side to fill it."
They sat in silence, Napoleon's fingers interlacing with Illya's on the kitchen table, and let the impact of their statements sink in.
"I suppose," Illya said after a long moment, "that in the light of such declarations, even a collar seems irrelevant."
"It may be that it does," Napoleon said with an indulgent smile. "Now, who wants cheesecake?"
*^*^*
AN: Part Two is underway, and will be completed in a few weeks Here's a little sneak peak:
At last, the old Soviet fossil in the center of the table (probably some high level party functionary) stood and rapped a gavel, alerting all in the room to rise, and opening the hearing. Napoleon stood as well, ramrod straight as befitting any American Air Force officer. Of course the entire procedure would take place in Russian, and Napoleon had continued to polish up his language skills after Ilya had left, arranging a second meeting with Theremin just for Russian language practice. The Ministry fellow who'd met him at the airport had inquired, condescendingly, if he wanted a translator for the proceedings, but Napoleon had declined, much to his surprise.
"Here begins the custodial hearing for the submissive, Illya Nickovetch Kuryakin," the old party boss began, gesturing everyone to sit, "pertaining to the challenge claim by the foreigner, Napoleon Solo. Is Mr. Solo present before us now?"
"I stand before you," said Napoleon, who had not sat. "Napoleon Solo, Section One Number One of the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement and former United States Air Force Captain. I present myself to you to make proprietary claim for the submissive, Agent Illya Nickovetch Kuryakin."
This had been the most complicated speech he'd had to learn, and the most important, but he rattled it off now without batting an eye.
"And by what right do you make this claim?" the old party functionary asked him now.
"I make this claim by right of loyalty," Napoleon answered as he'd practiced. "As Agent Kuryakin has declared and demonstrated his loyalty to me and me alone, by both word and deed during the past two years during which time we worked together as partners for the U.N.C.L.E."
*^*^*^*^*
Chapter 5