Tim has a special chair.
It's not just a chair, but a machine lovingly built so Tim could concentrate on important matters.
Sometimes, all too often, Tim doesn't feel like taking the time out of his busy schedule to take care of “matters” by hand, or by other means. Sometimes he's too busy to eat and even sleep, when WE and Red Robin both demand his time to look after his body’s other needs. Tim could of course say no, take some time off so he could unwind properly, but then Damian would get his foot in the door and that would surely tank their stocks.
This is why Tim builds his chair, his refuge and solution for when he needs both hands to type, but his brain refuses to co-operate, overrun with teenage hormones.
Sometimes he needs this to knock himself out properly, when his brain is so tired he can barely string words together into a full sentence, let alone write case files or suggestions for a meeting, but his body is still wound tight and buzzing. Sometimes he just needs to detach his body from his mind and soothe it, sometimes he simply needs release while Tim does... other things. Important things.
So this chair, his machine is built so his mind can concentrate on important matters while his body is being taken care of.
The lining is made from comfortable silicone and comes with different attachments. There are several favourite dildos and vibrators he can equip, or select some of his... replicas he had molded himself. There's the fleshlight he incorporated into the top part that latches down like a wide belt and envelopes his waist and hips like a lover's gentle embrace.
Or a cocoon.
It has a lock, though not because Tim doesn't trust himself. He simply doesn't wish to unseat himself, and possibly receive wounds he wouldn't be able to explain to Bruce… or anybody else. It's only really been needed for rougher play, or when he desperately needed to be knocked out as soon as possible, which meant tiring his body out, fast.
It can be automated, Tim entering the parameters, and then forgetting about it altogether, mind rising above while he enters full case reports or his weekly thoughts on whatever new thing the R&D department is having a blast with. Those times Tim barely even notices it until he’s finally gloriously spent.
Not unless he selects a hard and fast fucking. Then he needs the latch locked while he moans and screams, drooling and mewling as he’s plowed hard until his rebellious body finally obeys his tired mind. He can barely hold onto his desk, not to mention the keyboard when he uses one of his good, hard fucking programmes, and he doesn’t even try to.
It still helps to grab onto something while he’s undergoing that , because Tim can be needy, and also the world can spin with him whenever he’s fucked good, but. It’s not necessary, per say. He just… likes to get fucked in front of his computer.
He doesn’t judge himself for it. It’s a thing he likes to do. So he builds himself a chair that can do… it.
And tonight, as Tim kicks off his expensive italian shoes and suit pants that are already wrinkled beyond measure, he thinks… he will need his chair again.
He shucks his clothes, uncaring for where his shirt and suit jacket land. He doesn’t care one whit. He’s had multiple long days and he barely had any food. At least some release he can get without much effort on his part.
He selects one of his beloved red dildos from the hidden case from a wall panel, and screws it into his chair. Tonight, he thinks, he’ll get it good. Red is quite a sizable one, and Tim is already rising as he thinks about how good that stretch will be, how pleasant that burn.
He snags a lube - unscented but one that warms up nicely - and gives himself some prep, because Red is a big one. Big like his model is. Big, and bulky and well-rounded. Tim wouldn’t mind having its namesake, but that’s not currently a viable option to dream of. They can rarely go for a chat without it turning into a shouting match, or worse.
He isn’t a fan of bullet holes, and he still has the shiny red scar on his neck that’s a bitch to hide.
Tim shakes his head. He clears his mind of distractions. He uncaps the lube, and slowly, sensuously slicks Red up, wipes his hands down, and... rubs at the scar across his neck.
No. They can barely be civil to each other. He wouldn’t even dream of trying for anything more than not killing each other.
He pulls the chair closer to his desk, positions himself, and with an anticipatory little sigh, begins to bear down. If it were a smaller model, he might have let gravity take him, enjoying his utter helplessness in his impalement. He has many fun toys, some of them small enough that he could have let them do it to him with ease.
Some of his vibrators were made for it.
But not Red.
Red is big. It burns as Tim impales himself on it, his walls protesting until he slows down even more. The lube, while copious, still cannot stop injuries, so Tim goes slower. No matter how eager he is for it, safety first.
He whimpers as his insides shift and part as Red slides further and further up in his bowels. His cock bobs in anticipation, not flagging at all. Tim’s toes curl as Red fills him to the brink.
It’s already heaven.
He groans as he finally bottoms out, and the dildo is completely, gloriously lodged up inside him. He slides a hand down to feel at his stomach, the outline of the intrusion barely a hint, but Tim’s questing fingers can still feel it clearly. His hips give a little wiggle, just making sure his seating is comfortable, and then he pulls down the top part of his chair/machine to engulf him, and it embraces his hips in the perfect cocoon, his straining cock swallowed down readily by the modified flashlight.
He logs into his computer and pulls up the program. He selects the pace and the waiting period, the vibration of the fleshlight before he hits enter, and lets his chair take care of him. He leans back, sinks into the sensations as Red slowly starts up fucking into him, and closes his eyes.
His hands rise up to cup his pecs and rub against his nipples as Red’s speed picks up, begins to fuck into him in earnest, the thrusts long, hard, but still slower than the max. Tim wishes he could pierce his nipples, but he knows Bruce would never stand for it. He thinks about making little buzzers, possibly connected with bluetooth so he could let his fucking software take care of his nubs too… That would be simply perfect.
The deep, mechanical laughter comes as an utter surprise.
At first Tim doesn’t get it, he’s that tired.
But the second his eyes pop open Red begins to fuck up into him at a fast pace, he does. It’s too fast. It nearly upends Tim and the chair with him, but then the motions even out. The fleshlight begins to buzz hard and fast in counterpoint, and Tim screams, hands scrabbling at the top latch, nails catching in futility, unable to open it.
Unable to escape his own fucking chair.
He hits the panic button that should have stopped it all, but it does nothing. It might as well not have been there, the chair still buzzes and fucks him, while his screen goes dark, letters appearing on it, as if someone’s typing it from their end.
His heart sinks.
“Naughty little bird,” it reads. “Let me take you for a ride!”
His blood runs cold. His hands scrabble against his keyboard, trying to pull up anything. He tries to but is unable to reach the power cord or any of his hardware, only his keyboard. And he can’t do squat with that alone when whoever hacked his systems has obviously cut him out.
He’s literally, and figuratively fucked.
There’s nothing he can do. Nothing he can think of. His mind is scrambled as pleasure courses through his body.
“Who’s this?!” Tim whimpers and groans as he’s fucked hard and fast, unable to escape his impalement, trapped in the prison of his own making. He can barely think, but he’s certain his cameras have been hacked too, giving his assailant a very good view of his trapped, pleasure-wracked body.
“Just sit back and enjoy it,” comes the reply. “I’ll take care of your pleasure.”
Tim, predictably, struggles.
The speed of the fucking and the fleshlight increases. It shouldn’t be possible, but it is. Tim sobs.
His tired body gives up the fight. His back bows as he comes. Tim”s hole clenches down, his head falls back and he can’t cut the drawn-out mewl off as he pumps his come into his awaiting fleshlight.
“Don’t do this,” he begs whoever has hijacked his pleasure system. “Please don’t.”
The pumping in his hole stops. The fleshlight falls silent. He can barely believe it. His shaking hands reach for the latch of the top of his chair to extract himself, but he finds that he’s still locked in.
The screen goes dark.
He doesn’t know whether he should try to talk his way out of this, perhaps beg, or resign himself to his fate, to hope someone will eventually notice he’s missing and come looking. He could eventually get past the humiliation. He could. But Tim doesn’t know, from these short sentences, who he’s dealing with. It could be a supervillain. It could be some random hacker. It could be anybody. It really worries him.
He’s still staring at the screen, desperately trying to come up with a plan, when his screen brightens, a scene from a porn he’s watched many times starts to play.
A thin, pretty twink lands in prison, and pretty much everybody wants a piece of him. Tim has always liked watching him offer his ass up to the buff, handsome guard who tells him to hold onto the bars while he fed his thick, veiny cock into the twink’s waiting hole while the other inmates cheered them on.
Tim tries not to squirm on the thick, immobile dildo still impaling him while that very scene comes up, the boy’s hole twitching wetly as the guard uses a single finger to sample the goods.
Tim, against his will, rises again.
The thrusting and the fleshlight start up slowly as the guard enters the little twink.
Their moans carry in Tim’s empty apartment, the sound system turned up high by his hacker.
“Don’t let go of the bars” the guard purrs, “or you’ll fall on your face. I’m not helping you until you help me out first.”
The twink nods meekly and pushes his ass up harder against the bars, fingers going white against the metal.
The moaning picks up. Tim clenches his teeth together so he doesn’t join them, but the fucking on screen and the fucking the dildo in his chair delivers is in sync, and he can barely take it.
His tired body is all too ready to let it all go a second time, but suddenly… it all stops. He can’t stop his groan of frustration as he’s denied release.
“Naughty boys don’t get to come!” declares his assailant.
Tim clenches his teeth, and tries his breathing exercises. He tries to calm down, tries to talk his body off the edge. Miraculously, it seems to work.
That’s of course when the porn starts up again, as well as the timed thrusts of the dildo and the soft vibrations of the fleshlight.
Tim realizes he’s sweating, when a drop lands from his wet, matted hair onto his nose. He swipes his hair back and glares daggers into his closest camera, trying to mask how fucking close he is to the edge.
The fucking stops.
“Beg me.” Comes the taunt on the screen.
Tim stares it down resolutely, until the writing disappears, and the screen goes black. Tim’s still painfully hard, but nothing is happening. He knows he’s taunted, perhaps it’s a supervillaing waiting for Tim to break and spill secrets…
Well. Tim can withstand it.
He does his breathing exercises, and throws in some of the goriest of his case photos, until his erection wilts.
The porn starts up again.
This time it’s not the continuation of that scene, it’s another. It’s from further in, when the guards have the twink for themselves. One is amusing himself by pumping his nighstick up the twink, while another plays with his cock, another sticking his sizeable erection down the boy’s waiting throat.
Their moans fill the air, and Tim tries not to join them as the dildo starts pumping into his ass, while the fleshlight buzzes hungrily around his firming erection.
“Beg me.” The words demand on screen, superimposed over the writhing tableau.
Tim looks away.
The dildo’s thrusts pick up, as does the vibrations of the fleshlight until Tim thinks he’s about to finally shoot off…
It stops again.
Tim screams in frustration, horrified to find his face wet.
He wipes his hair back, trying to surreptitiously hide his tears. Anybody would be sweaty after this. And he’s so very, very frustrated.
He’s trying to find a way out, perhaps upend his chair risking massive internal damage and drag himself away, when the letters appear again.
“Beg me, and you’ll have the best night of your life, little bird.” His assailant proclaims.
Tim wonders how long they could play this game. A few hours at most, before his erection causes irreparable damage. He’ll have to speed things along if he wants to survive this.
If his assailant only means to debase and torture him, and not kill him.
Still. If he gets to come, he buys himself a little time. He might have to keep this up until someone from his family realizes he’s missing, but given how paranoid they are, it is viable.
“I won’t tell you anything!” He tells his assailant as he stares into the closest camera. He knows he must look awful, sweaty and tired and wound up so damn far… But he stands his ground.
“I don’t want you to tell me anything but please.” Comes the reply.
“Please?” Tim echoes.
“Be more convincing, and I might just let you come.” It taunts him.
The slow thrusts and the buzzing starts again. The porn this time is different. It’s of a different twink, locked into what appears to be a hole in a wall. Tim’s screen shows both sides: his mouth stretching up around a wide cock, while his ass is stuffed with a toy, while a man forces his cockhead in next to it. Tim can see as the young man’s eyes roll up and his body convulses. The camera captures as the boy spills his seed against the wall while he’s mercilessly fucked.
Tim whimpers. The porn is doing things to him. His mind is emptying out while he’s still trapped in his chair, made to watch as the twink on screen is fucked without a care for his pleasure (it’s probably staged, his feeble mind says) but there’s no sound, so Tim can’t say for sure. All he can see is that the boy is completely limp while the men take whatever they want from his trapped body.
And Tim likes it. He doesn’t even need to close his eyes to imagine being that body in the wall while men he doesn’t know take their pleasure from him. The dildo pumps into his hole without mercy, the fleshligth buzzes around his cock.
“You know what to do.” The words taunt him. “Beg me, little bird.”
The chair has him trapped in a haze of intense pleasure without release, the porn with the boy in the wall is captivating that he can’t even fathom closing his eyes. He doesn’t know what would happen to him if he did, and doesn’t yet want to try and antagonize his captor. But his options are dwindling, and his mind, his traitorous mind urges him to just beg.
He can feel sweat pooling under him. His body glistens with it while it’s fucked mercilessly. His cock hurts. His head is getting cloudy. His heart is beating out of his chest.
His hands slide up towards his nipples, unbidden.
“Please,” he whispers, and he doesn’t recognize his own voice. At first he thinks it must be the twink on screen, who's taking two cocks in his ass somehow, and his mouth is still stuffed full…
“You can do better than that.”
“Please,” he tries again. “Please let me come. Please!”
“How?” Tim sobs. “Please let me come, please, please, please!”
“Please,” Tim whimpers. “I need it. Please, please please let me come, I beg you!”
The speed of the dildo fucking his hole suddenly speeds up. Tim’s trapped body takes it, and he whines in pained pleasure as he feels himself nearing the precipice again, terrified that he’ll be yanked back down, denied again. The fleshlight buzzes around his cock, engulfing it in the most delicious vibrations Tim can feel in his fingers. He thinks the speed has been upped again, higher than he ever had it before, but it’s good, so good, so delicious.
It’s the single best, most rewarding, earth-shattering orgasm in his life. He pumps his seed down the fleshlight (and the hidden suction tube, so there’s no mess.)
He screams. He sobs. He slumps over.
The pumping slows down. So does the buzzing.
He thinks it’ll stop.
“Enjoy the rest of your night. You were exquisite.” Declares the person doing this to him, and then the screen goes back to the porn.
Tim’s oversensitive body is fucked into hard while the nearly unconscious young man is taken from the wall, pulled out, and taken to what appears to be an examination room. Tim can’t help but watch as the boy’s hole is spread and examined by a doctor, before he undoes his trousers and pulls out his cock. He pumps it a few times lazily, before he lines it up with the boy’s hole and pushes it in carelessly.
The body jerks on the table minutely, but doesn’t do more.
Another man approaches from the other side, and feeds his own erection into the helpless body. Tim can’t help himself. His fingers find his peaking nipples and he pinches them and rolls them, eyes glued to the screen while another man shows up.
The dildo’s speed changes somewhat, as if his assailant is bored and plays around with the settings just for the fun of it, but Tim gets hard again anyway. He watches mutely as the men on screen shuffle around a little, and the third man manages to feed his own cock up the young man’s hole. They begin to fuck him hard, without asking for input from the young man.
Tim never in his life wanted to switch places with someone this bad.
He imagines faceless men fucking him instead of his chair, and he moans. The dildo speeds up, pumping into his bowels with punishing thrusts, and Tim’s toes curl, trapped as he is on his thick intrusion. He imagines he’s sitting on two men, their cocks perfectly in sync as they fuck up inside him.
He imagines the Red Hood pushing him down, fucking his mouth until Tim can swallow him down without choking, and then fucking him some more. He imagines a powerful man in a dark costume, built like a fucking brick with an enormous cock to match fucking his ass, while he can feel the bulge in his stomach. He imagines his bowels reorganized with the monstrous intrusion he cannot escape.
His hole clenches down on the dildo fucking him, and comes again.
The fucking doesn’t stop.
“Please stop,” he begs. He isn’t above begging at this point. He’s so sore, so empty, so tired. “Please stop this!”
His only reply, superimposed on a new porn scene is a simple “No.”
Tim sobs. His hands, kitten-weak, scrabble against the latch on the chair. He pushes the panic button again. He tries his keyboard. Nothing helps, just like he knew, but he doesn’t know what to do.
The porn this time is an orgy. Young men are bound and swarmed. They are taken. Cocks in asses. Cocks in mouths. Fingers and cocks in a single hole. Two cocks in a single hole. Two cocks and fingers. Toys. More restraints. Come shots.
Tim rises again, to his amazement.
He watches the porn enraptured, wanting to commit it all to memory. To find it again. To make sure that boy… all these boys were safe, even if it gets him off now.
Even if he wants to trade places with them so damn much.
He sobs as he’s fucked. He sobs as he feels his fourth orgasm approaching. His hole is so full, so sore, so… It feels so good. He’s so very tired, but he needs this. He knows he does.
He weeps as he comes again, emptying his balls of everything and more.
“Please,” he begs the person on the other side, when the dildo and the fleshlight don’t seem to stop. “Please. Please stop!”
“Have a good night, naughty bird.” Is his only reply.
Everything goes dark at his fifth, dry orgasm.
When he wakes up, his computer is blinking at him.
His hands scrabble against the latch in fierce hope. The belt lifts. Tim jumps up, uncaring, and winces as he unmounts the thick dildo.
Perhaps he could have done this more carefully, he thinks as he sinks down, his legs having fallen asleep. But he’s out.
He looks around, at all the cameras he installed in his Nest, and swallows.