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Breaking the Prince (Part 2)	By : Doog Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 2235 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z or any of its characters. I will not make a profit from this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter Four
            Everything was warmth.
            He was surrounded by it, wrapped in it, had forgotten everything else. The heat that coursed through him had a pulse, and it was his. Not only was it around him, but within him, radiating from his core to his extremities, so thick and palpable that he could feel it with the tips of his fingers. His body, lost in the sensation, swam through abstract waves, melting into the glow encasing him. Relaxed, almost playful, he stretched his limbs, reveling in the gentle burn as they reached into the sea around him.
The more he stretched and turned, the more the warmth entered him, accumulating. The feeling of it enveloping him enticed him closer, the fire creeping deeper. The heat burst and splashed through him until it possessed enough intensity to buzz across the surface of his body.
Vegeta was sweating. He could feel it dripping down the side of his temple, traveling in an irregular line to the hinge of his jaw. By reflex, he tried to reach up with his hand, to smear the drop away, but his hand was too heavy to lift. He opened his eyes and angry suns stared down at him, burning his eyes until he shut them again.
The heat followed him as he returned to awareness, but it was the crackle of the too-bright lamps, the hot sting of the metal table below him. The room was small, sweltering. The air was thick, so humid that when Vegeta took in a breath, he could feel the moisture sticking to the insides of his airways. To compensate, he began to breathe deeper, sucking big breaths through his mouth. Unfortunately, the increased air flow did nothing to clear his head. When he tried to move again, his limbs were unresponsive and heavy. He couldn’t lift his head to look around nor to see the state of himself.
Almost as soon as he realized his enfeebled state, he accepted it with drowsy indifference. He was simply too exhausted by the leaden blanket of heat. The relaxing, simmering tide returned to him. As it lapped at him, he began to squirm: clenching and unclenching his hands, rolling his head to one side, and bending his knees slightly before letting his legs lie flat. The feeling of it moving through his body was captivating, such that he kept fidgeting just enough to confirm that it was still coursing through him. His body was searching for something, but he could not know where or for what, only that he had a vague drive to keep shifting on the table. He forgot his location, allowing the gentle warmth to bathe him.
The orange glow penetrating his eyelids was interrupted by darkness. Lethargy still consuming him, Vegeta tentatively opened his eyes. Freeza.
As soon as the loathsome face had materialized in his vision, the moment the name was spoken aloud in his consciousness, Vegeta was no longer on his back. His body was jolted, pitching forward until he was upright. The smooth, horizontal surface had instantly migrated around him, grabbing his limbs and twisting them back. His arms were forced to loop around the metal at his back, while his legs were bent almost double on themselves around more metal, his ankles held painfully near the backs of his thighs. His tail was held behind him, coiled. The table had transformed into a ladder-like structure to which he was securely held by thick, metallic tubes. Vegeta knew it was Freeza’s doing, and the thought summoned him again.
Vegeta stared at Freeza, the only other thing or being within the single spotlight surrounding them. A chill cut through Vegeta as he stared into the unreadable eyes. The cool sensation was transient. The bright lamps were gone, but his fever remained. He remembered to breathe, but was forced to draw air through his nose. His panting had been stopped by a thick gag which covered and filled him, holding his tongue against the floor of his mouth.
Though Freeza was looking on from a meter away, Vegeta could not resist the urge to shift uncomfortably in the restraints. He pressed the back of his head against metal, wriggling his fingers behind his back and tightening the muscles in his legs. His skin was still buzzing, and the simple, limited movements provided minimal relief. Though his eyes remained locked on Freeza’s neutral expression, he was captivated by the physical sensations of his struggling limbs. He was shocked into stillness only when he felt feathery impressions sliding irregularly up the surface of his torso, making him gasp into the gag. He only broke eye contact with Freeza for a moment, to see what was touching him. When he saw nothing, he quickly looked back up. Freeza remained in the same place, unmoving and watching.
When Freeza stepped forward, Vegeta began to shake. He had no thought of concealing his fear. There was the fear of what Freeza might do, but also the fear of being left alone. Another drop of sweat began its descent from Vegeta’s brow.
Freeza stopped just centimeters in front of him, their eyes level. Slowly, Freeza considered Vegeta’s face, studying each small twitch of flesh as Vegeta continued to swelter in his own skin. Vegeta could see Freeza’s hand in his peripheral vision, slowly rising until its claw-tipped fingers were just at the side of Vegeta’s eye. Vegeta’s breath shuddered as the black points curled in on themselves so that Freeza could run soft knuckles along the side of Vegeta’s face. Vegeta watched as though looking from over Freeza’s shoulder as a pale index finger rotated forward to run its tip along the smooth outside of the gag concealing his mouth.
The finger pressed forward and the gag was gone, allowing access to his mouth. As Freeza applied pressure, Vegeta felt his lips part voluntarily. Freeza’s finger entered as he uncurled a second to join it so that he was sliding two fingers over Vegeta’s tongue. Vegeta was paralyzed with terror, transfixed by the physical sensation of the cool fingers pressing into him. His eyes narrowed in a haze. He flinched when Freeza slid a claw along the top of his tongue with enough pressure to slice a thin line down the middle, but otherwise held still until Freeza withdrew. He swallowed the small surge of blood, but kept his lips obediently parted, panting.
Licking his own lips, Freeza gently captured the side of Vegeta’s face in the palm of his hand, letting the pad of his thumb play over the slack surface of Vegeta’s lower lip. “You are so much more fun when you are docile,” Freeza whispered, holding Vegeta’s face in line with his own.
A stab of need ripped upward through Vegeta. Only after his initial reaction had subsided did his pride make a faint resurgence. He knew that somehow, somewhere, he should have been outraged. The feelings seemed distant, meaningless now, even painful. Remembering his pride, the ache of it, reminded him of his self-disgust.
Suddenly, Vegeta was looking at his pale, clawed hands, holding the side of his own face. The lidded, languid expression before him fed the rekindled contempt. Hatred flared just long enough that he acted, releasing his grip and using the same hand to openly strike the Saiyajin face before him.
The fire of the slap pulled him back into his own body, snapping his head to the side. The pain of the blow quickly mutated, however, feeding the dizzying warmth and erasing all thoughts of pride and shame. He turned back to Freeza, too overcome with raw compulsion to vocalize what he needed.
Freeza knew. Once more, he placed a hand at the side of Vegeta’s face. The Saiyajin leaned his cheek into the palm, turning his face into it and opening his mouth, trying to welcome the fingers back inside. Freeza allowed this for a moment before he roughly grabbed either side of Vegeta’s jaw and forced his head to turn away, exposing the line of muscles that ran diagonally down his neck. Vegeta’s whole body tensed as a faint point slid across it: Freeza’s tongue.
Vegeta whimpered, but Freeza’s hand was quickly covering his mouth, forcing his head to face forward again, pressing it back to expose the front of his neck. Freeza’s head tilted sideways, allowing his small, white teeth to capture Vegeta’s vocal cords. Though the teeth appeared blunt, their edges felt sharp around the protruding flesh as Vegeta swallowed, his larynx rising and falling shakily within the two rows of points.
The deep, instinctual recesses of Vegeta’s mind understood the meaning of Freeza’s hold of his neck. Vegeta had lost. He had given everything he had—his strength, his will, his life—and it hadn’t been enough. It would never be enough. The magnitude of his failure froze Vegeta in Freeza’s grasp. The finality of it pierced him, but the pain was soon replaced as relief spilled through him. There was nothing more he could do. He was free.
Vegeta’s body relaxed. Freeza slowly intensified his bite before he withdrew, visibly satisfied. Blood lingered on his teeth when he smiled. When Freeza reached up to his face, Vegeta flinched, but only because he was eager for the touch. He needed it. It was the only thing that defined him now.
Freeza’s fingers traced the lines on his broad forehead then moved across his thick eyebrows. Vegeta momentarily closed his eyes as claws brushed his eyelashes before trailing down the side of his face. The sharp points left stinging lines as they traveled lower, to his neck and then his collar bone. Vegeta’s gaze followed the hand, mesmerized by its unpredictable journey.
As the hand swept along the the bones that laid just under the surface of his skin, Vegeta remembered how fragile his powerful body was to Freeza’s abuses. The idea that he could be destroyed so easily was oddly thrilling. Vegeta’s power was at once precious and burdensome, and he had the sudden impulse to see it dashed into pieces for one moment of crazed euphoria.
Vegeta squirmed as the hand was joined by its brother, caressing the outer ridges of his pectoral muscles. In unison, as if mirror images of each other, each hand circled back to the center of the mounds of flesh, finding Vegeta’s small, erect nipples. Vegeta mouth gaped in a silent cry as Freeza seized them, applying enough pressure to flatten them. A dull, disembodied ache rocked through Vegeta’s chest as the small pieces of tissue turned white and bloodless. Vegeta gritted his teeth and rode the intensity of the stimulation, gasping audibly when Freeza finally let go.
Together, they watched as blood returned to the abused area, turning each nipple a deep red. Almost more painful than the pressure had been, this process elicited a series of short, sharp exhalations from Vegeta. When this had passed, Vegeta rolled his eyes back up to Freeza as if to ask, What is next? When Freeza simply stood in observant silence, Vegeta pressed against his restraints, a low whine building in the back of his throat. Don’t leave me. I can’t do it on my own.
Freeza’s mouth was at his ear in an instant, the cold body against his as the tyrant pressed possessively into him. “Does the Prince think he deserves a reward?” Freeza’s hand began a slow but unfaltering descent from the middle of Vegeta’s chest. Vegeta shivered as the sharp fingertips slid just past his navel. They suddenly stopped and jumped back to their resting place at his sternum, making him grimace.
“What do you need, Vegeta?” Freeza inquired in a whisper, his other hand brushing the inner surface of the tightened thigh muscles that were still bulging around the metal rung. An alarmingly hot flush burst across Vegeta’s chest and face. He couldn’t answer. The gag was back.
Freeza seemed to contemplate Vegeta’s averted eyes for a moment before deciding he needed further encouragement. “Show me what you need,” Freeza ordered, flicking the outer rim of Vegeta’s ear with his tongue before withdrawing to stand squarely in front of him. He studied Vegeta’s body up and down, engrossed, before reaching out to run his hand over Vegeta’s shoulder and down his flexed bicep. Vegeta watched, turning back to Freeza, unable to do anything but accept whatever Freeza desired to do.
Quickly moving to his next target, Freeza returned to one of Vegeta’s nipples, pinching it with a thumb and finger so that he could flick the claw of his index finger across it. The delicate flesh split with little resistance, erupting with droplets of blood only after Freeza’s hand withdrew. Vegeta hissed into the gag as his blood began to form a small trail down his chest, intensifying the flush there. Freeza smiled, but continued, unsatisfied. Vegeta could feel tingles of anticipation prickling up his back, and Freeza’s hands moved to chase them, his claws tracing upward in strokes interrupted only by Vegeta’s bound arms.
Vegeta arched his back at the sensation, and the metal ladder arched with him, pushing his torso outward. His lower ribs jutted out, forming a point above the vertical plane of his flat abdomen. His head and legs were curled away from Freeza, making him bend his neck forward in a fight to keep Freeza in view. Though he tried to straighten once more, he was unable to bend the ladder into its original position as freely as he had contorted it. Vegeta moaned at this new, straining predicament, his convex torso heaving anew as the discomfort quickened his breath.
Flashing teeth at this new development, Freeza drew his hands to the bottom of Vegeta’s sternum then out again, tracing the lowest rib as it curved out and away. Vegeta squirmed at the tickling sensation, making muffled cries of protest. Freeza paused again, watching Vegeta as he felt more drops of sweat break out on his face and body in rapid succession now that he was folded uncomfortably back. He tried to hold Freeza’s gaze but failed, letting his head fall back and closing his eyes in his effort to deal with the compounding afflictions.
When Vegeta opened his eyes, his vision filled with his own heaving torso. The pale flesh of his abdomen sloped gently away, slightly concave under his bulging rib cage, inviting an inquisitive touch. He reached out and laid a single finger, Freeza’s finger, along one of the eight muscular bulges there, making his stomach spasm. He could feel it just the same, but was also the one inflicting the sensation. Once the movement subsided to rhythmic heaving, he traced the trenches around the small mounds of muscle, eliciting more involuntary contractions. He found himself fascinated with his own body and its reactions, exploring it anew as though he had not been attached to it for his entire life. Finally, he ran his finger down the center line, dipping his claw into the shallow navel and then back out again as he moved further down.
A flash of madness rocked through him as Freeza withdrew the finger he had been tracing downward. Vegeta growled and twisted with frustration, narrowing his eyes as his ability to focus wavered. Freeza was close again, holding each of Vegeta’s sides in his hands, grasping them firmly. His smug face leaned into Vegeta’s tortured expression, demanding Vegeta maintain focus. Their noses were almost touching.
“Here...is there where—” Freeza began, letting go of Vegeta to trace a thin, vertical welt down one side of his abdomen.
“—You want me to touch you?” Freeza finished the phrase, Vegeta’s newly un-gagged mouth forming the same words silently with his lips.
No. Of course, Freeza was deliberately misunderstanding his reaction to the slowly descending hand, but—
Freeza lightly stroked the same spot again, and pleasure exploded through Vegeta’s core. Confusion replaced the sensation as it subsided. There was only a small pause before Freeza repeated this several more times, causing Vegeta to whimper, begging wordlessly for more. He didn’t care how; he just needed more.
A break in the enthralling feeling came when Freeza pulled away. Due to the curve of his body, Vegeta was only able to feel, rather than watch, as Freeza used his claws to trace and then slice into the skin on either side of his navel. He created two identical cuts from below Vegeta’s ribs down to the “v” of his lower abdominal muscles. Vegeta gasped as he felt his skin separate around the knife-like points of Freeza’s nails. Working methodically, Freeza returned to the tops of the cuts, slicing along the same lines but now cutting into the muscle layers beneath. The feeling of his muscles separating created a deeper, alarming agony.
When Freeza’s face returned to his, Vegeta was still visibly shaking. Looking down at him, Freeza’s features were suddenly cold, indifferent. He didn’t even seem interested in what he was doing. Vegeta’s fear returned to him, a dark terror twisting up his spine. However, this fear was not borne of concern for his fate. This fear was born of his new condition: his subservience.
Looking up into Freeza’s unfathomable features, Vegeta felt himself drowning in his own miserable mortality. Freeza was a god, untouchable and unmovable. Freeza was a powerful being who had deemed him worthy of his attentions, who was even going to bestow a gift unto him, and Vegeta was not sure that he would be able to rise up from his own lowliness to receive it. What was he if he were useless to his god?
“Help me,” Vegeta pleaded, the words were almost lost in a dry sob. Use me, he had meant. Punish me. Destroy me.
Freeza’s blank expression eased into a smile. Fingertips played at the splits in Vegeta’s stomach, both of Freeza’s hands toying with the edges of flesh that had pulled away from each other. Vegeta marveled at the vague pleasure this produced and was taken off-guard when Freeza suddenly positioned stiff, aligned fingers outside of the two neat wounds and thrust them forward.
Vegeta screamed as the two hands penetrated his abdomen, his eyes widening in shock. Freeza was pressed against him again, working his hands deeper, rotating them until his wrists were disappearing into the bloodied flesh. Vegeta’s muscles contracted around the intruders, spasming and twitching helplessly. When Vegeta ran out of air, his scream died into a choked wheeze. He was able to suck in a small gasp of breath before he felt Freeza forcing his even larger forearms into the ever-widening wounds. For a moment, the metal rung to which the back of Vegeta’s head had been pressed was gone, and Vegeta was curling back on himself, contorting backwards impossibly as Freeza continued to push his arms deeper. Then the metal was back, and Vegeta was grinding the back of his head against it, uncomprehending.
The feeling of Freeza inside of him, forcing his clawed hands deeper and higher into his abdomen, tearing through his mesenteries and intestines, was complete and utter ecstasy.
Vegeta cried out anew when Freeza thrust forward with his right arm until it was elbow-deep. This accomplished, Freeza raised his head to look into Vegeta’s half-closed eyes. The Saiyajin moaned as Freeza began to move his fingers deep inside him, shifting things, exploring. Vegeta’s back arched further when he felt Freeza withdraw his blood-slicked right arm and redirect it, tearing the opening wider. Warm blood was oozing from both of the slits, sliding down Vegeta’s front until it was dripping off of his bent knees.
Freeza’s expression brightened as Vegeta felt him capture something solid in his hand. Without further warning, Freeza began to squeeze the organ, tearing it from its natural position and digging his claws into it. Vegeta’s vision swam as intoxicating pleasure surged through him. A tingling danced down the backs of both of his legs, making him squirm with the desire to writhe freely and express his feelings openly. Make me nothing.
Slowly, Freeza withdrew his left hand to run his fingers along the margin of the hole in Vegeta’s right side, dipping his fingers just inside and pressing along the ripped edges. I am nothing.
Vegeta could feel something rising in his esophagus, but could not prepare himself before a wave of bright red blood filled his mouth and spilled out over his his lower lip. It pooled in the back of his throat, blocking his airway and making him cough even as more came up. The drowning sensation forced his head to tilt forward just as a steady stream of the hot liquid began to fall from his mouth. He was upright again. The thick blood coated his face and chest as it made its journey to join the rest already covering his groin and legs. Please.
Both of Freeza’s hands were back inside, twisting and stroking at Vegeta’s viscera. The pleasure was building now, finding a rhythm that let Vegeta almost forget that he was slowly drowning in his own blood. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the raw bliss. Vegeta was close now, so close that he could now be sure that the euphoria just within his reach was truly the release he had needed. It was pure, guiltless pleasure, and he was saddened only by what made it so precious: it was only his to give to his master once.
Vegeta worked his hands, Freeza’s hands, as deep as they would go into the yielding flesh, grasping wildly, too quickly to follow a rhythm now. It was a race against time to wring what he desired out of his body before—
The force of his climax detached him from his body for a few minutes, rushing up through and then away from him. Freeza, the restraints, and the thick blood in his throat melted away, until there was nothing but pleasure. When the sensation, too, had passed, he was left trembling.
Vegeta lay on his bed, his face suddenly raised from its firm surface. The orgasm lingering like an ache throughout his body transported him back to the place of his ultimate humiliation. He was confused at first, thinking that he had just been raped. The realness of the memory made his guts lurch, but he soon realized that he was in his bed. His memories skipped ahead to his first night after being returned to Freeza’s ship: the hours he had spent depressed, unmoving, and uncertain of what to do. Even as he believed that he was in that time and place, he recognized that it too, was an old memory. He was not on Freeza’s ship, but on a planet’s base.
Reality returned in full force, eliminating the last traces of physical relief he felt. Pushing himself up from his stomach with his hands, he stared down at himself. His dark blue body suit still covered him, left in place since he had been too exhausted to remove it before falling asleep. A wet spot soiled his groin near his still semi-erect cock.
Immediately, Vegeta felt like vomiting. The nightmare, the horrific fantasy he had inflicted upon himself, came flooding back in detail. He remembered with startlingly clarity the subservience with which he had acted and the slavish thoughts that had contaminated his mind. The image of Freeza, elbow deep inside him while he mewled like an obedient pet jolted him up from his bed.
Vegeta began to tear his body suit off, stopping only when he realized that his gloves and boots were still on. Snarling in annoyance, he sprained several fingers ripping them off. He quickly peeled away the suit, disregarding the minor injuries he caused in his impatience. Finally, despite his angry fumbling, he was able to free himself of the dirty garment. Faster than he had removed it, he balled it up in one fist and obliterated the suit with a slightly-excessive ki blast. His attention returned to his still recovering body, making him sneer anew.
He stormed into the washroom, nearly destroying the shower panel as he activated a long cycle. When the water began to fall around him, he quickly reached out again, over-riding the pre-set temperature and pressure controls until steaming water was jetting down violently. He gritted his teeth at the sting of the near-boiling water, but welcomed it.
Is that who I really am? He thought, clenching his hands into fists that he almost sent through the wall. He knew it couldn’t be true, but it had felt so real in the nightmare. For a moment his thoughts lingered on the memory of the relief he had felt at giving in to Freeza. It had been so nice, to not have to worry about carrying the weight of his pride and its call for vengeance.
Vegeta caught himself, suddenly more enraged than before. How could he even consider such a thing? He had been worked like a slave by Freeza for years since his ordeal, slowly rebuilding his strength and reputation. How could surrender be what he longed for? Lusted for. It made him want to tear his own skin off. He almost did, but then straightened his arms at his sides, his chest still heaving with angry panting. No. I can’t let him win. Not like that. He had to hold himself together. Madness was exactly what Freeza had wanted for him, but he couldn’t let it happen. It didn’t help that he still hardly slept, and apparently when he did...
Vegeta stood in the shower, deflated. He had pulled himself back up this far, and was even slated to take over a challenging mission on Shattsusei in less than a week’s time...so why did his revenge seem just as far away as it had two years ago?
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Breaking the Prince (Part 2)