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The bedroom is a disaster. This is especially notable to Asmodeus because that was not the case when he woke up this morning. Their inner sanctum was mostly spotless then, bed notwithstanding, the floors pristine and clear, everything in its place. He can hardly see the floor now, humming in thought as he steps gingerly in the few bare spots yet to be covered with Fizz’s extensive wardrobe.
“Froggie?” He calls out curiously, brow furrowing as he scans the chaos for any sign of his little lover. He comes up empty until his eyes glance up to their bed and he finds his prize burrowed deep under the covers, leaving a tiny but familiar lump in the blanket. His brain switches gears immediately, softening at the sight and turning to step up the platform and sit at the edge of the bed nearest the little Fizz lump.
It must be a bad day. They happen, now and then, mostly without warning. Fizzarolli loses his motivation, his drive, and begs to turn his brain off. Ozzie does everything for him on those days, from dressing him to bathing him, whatever Fizz needs or wants in the moment, Oz is ready to wait on him hand and foot. It’s a little surprising, and a little more than concerning, for him to be having another bad day when his last one had only been a few days ago. Normally they make it through a few weeks after one hits, so the thought that Fizz is struggling so soon after his last makes Oz’s chest feel tight.
“Baby? You still awake?” He coos the words out as softly as he can, watching as the little lump shifts a little.
“Go away,” Fizz’s gruff voice replies, but Ozzie’s not deterred.
He shifts closer, dipping the bed as he does, one hand snaking under the blanket to try and feel for his little lover. The sooner he has Fizz in his arms, the sooner the comfort can begin. “Fizzie? Lemme warm you up, baby, let’s go—OW!”
Ozzie yanks his arm back, but there’s a weight attached to it now. A circle of pain radiates in his forearm as he pulls himself free and reveals a very much naked, very not having a bad day, Fizzarolli, his teeth sunk deep enough into Oz’s arm to keep himself latched even as the Sin tries to shake him off. “Fizz!” He shouts the imp’s name, barely heard over the cacophony of Fizz’s hat bells jingling wildly. Any fuzzy warmth that hadn’t evaporated at the moment of the bite quickly dissipates as he tries to shake free, only for Fizzarolli’s arms to reel up to try and tug him back down.
“You little—” Asmodeus grabs Fizz around the waist, his large hand easily eclipsing the tiny clown, his thumb pressing into Fizz’s chin as he pulls him off. Fizz thrashes in his hold, mouth clamping around the thumb so foolishly left in biting range as Ozzie snarls and presses him into the bed, towering over him as he pulls his hand away to free himself again. “Fizz!”
The imp immediately scrambles onto his front when he’s freed, heels digging into the bed as he starts to crawl away. Ozzie flattens him to the bed with a hand again, wincing as the clown’s heels kick at whatever he can reach like this. “Fizzie, settle down!” He groans when Fizz’s reply is more teeth gnashing than actual words, followed by what can only be described as manic-sounding giggles.
“Ain’t it a little early to be so feral, baby?”
“Fuck off!” Fizz shrieks the words, his arms whirring as he stretches them out and grabs at the edge of the bed, tugging himself free after one more well-aimed heel kick. He doesn’t get far though, Ozzie snatching up an ankle and tugging him back as Fizz flounders. “Lemme go!”
“You’ve got plans, Fizz, we can’t be playing games right now,” Ozzie sighs, doing his best not to react as Fizz gets violent again, his free foot kicking at the fingers holding him. “You got your little date with Blitzø later, remember?”
“Shut up! I don’t w—” Fizz is cut off by a hand gripping his cheeks, face squished between two fingers as Ozzie stares him down.
“Is that how you’re supposed to talk to your Daddy?”
Fizz falters in his grip for a moment, eyes going wide, legs tensing, and then the fire returns and he twists in Oz’s grip and sinks his teeth into the soft patch of skin between Ozzie’s thumb and index finger.
“Fizz!” Ozzie hisses as he yanks his hand away, the imp not coming with him this time. Instead, he takes advantage of the Sin pulling back to begin his escape again, stretching his arms up to the canopy frame, reeling himself up with one while he flips Oz off with the other. His hat tails fall over his shoulders, the jingles meshing with Fizz’s wild giggles.
His legs dangle below him, not yet stretched to continue his escape, and Asmodeus uses them to nip this mess in the bud. Removing Fizz’s prosthetics is as simple as popping them on and off if you’re as strong as a Sin. All he has to do is press his fingers to a certain spot behind the knee and pull, and there you have it— a legless Fizzarolli.
Fizz’s lower limbs fall to the bed with a quiet thump, the imp gasping in shock as he yanks himself up to avoid Oz’s reach, glaring down at him as he clings to the canopy frame, his thigh stumps wiggling in outrage he’s sure would look more like kicking had he still had his prosthetics on.
“Cheater! Gimme my legs back!”
“I said no time for games, Fizz, but I’ll teach you a lesson if you really need it, and I’m startin’ to think you do.”
The imp betrays himself; the way he bites his lip as he smiles is all Ozzie needs to see to know this is exactly what Fizz had been aiming for from the start. The little brat was looking to get himself in trouble. Ozzie feels the heat rumble through him, amusement and arousal bubbling up through him until his mane licks into flames for a moment. Never a dull day with Fizz, if the baby wants a lesson, he’ll get one. It just might not end the way he wants.
“We’ve got a time limit, Fizzie, you wanna waste all of it up there playing keep away?” He purrs the words out, smiles wide to assure Fizz they’ve both got the game now, and it works. The clown giggles as he stretches back down, blowing a raspberry in Ozzie’s face and trying to swing away before he can be caught. He doesn’t account for the canopy, though, and ends up tangled in it just long enough for Ozzie to catch him under the pits, and it’s another quick press and pull, and Fizz’s arms pop off. They don’t drop. Instead, they swing above them both, wrapped around the canopy frame as Fizz shrieks and writhes in Ozzie’s hands, the playfulness in his expression replaced with something more unsure, more vulnerable.
Asmodeus sets Fizz down on the bed, humming as he trails his fingers up the imp’s stomach, pushing lightly to keep him in place despite as Fizz wriggles beneath him, his smile gone as he stares up at Oz with wide eyes. “You know you can ask to play when you want to, right Fizzie? You don’t have to get yourself in trouble first every time.” The imp shudders at the word ‘trouble’, his hips jerk slightly as Ozzie’s hand slides lower, thick fingers sliding over his puffy cunt before pulling back.
“Fuck me,” he whines, thighs spreading, hips shaking back and forth as he presents for Oz, gaze locked on the Sin’s lime green sclera. “Please, I’ll be good…”
“Little late for that,” Oz chuckles, gripping a thigh and tugging Fizz closer. The clown gasps, muscles tensing under Ozzie’s touch, but he doesn’t pull away now. His tail curls around his wrist, the spade tip gentle as it pets at Ozzie’s arm like he’s trying to lure him in. “Bad boys don’t get what they want. They get what their Daddy decides they deserve.”
“What do I deserve?” Fizz’s voice is breathy, he’s winding himself up, and Ozzie is almost pulled in by it. How could he not be? A perfect little living fleshlight below him, waiting to be filled and fucked and used to blissful oblivion. “Ozzie, please,” he whines, batting his lashes in that pretty way he’s learned so often gets him what he likes. “I wanna be full…”
The Sin stands up suddenly, and Fizz yelps as the mattress springs back below him as the dip of Ozzie’s weight disappears. “Wait! Hey!” He wriggles and squirms to try and sit up, but it’s no easy task with only his tail as a balance. “Asshole!” So quick to frustration, Ozzie can’t help but chuckle as the little imp immediately starts trying to instigate to get him back. “Fine! I don’t want some limp dick daddy anyways!”
Asmodeus leans low as he sorts through their toy chest, debating what to bring back while Fizz continues to try and lure him. “Gimme my limbs, I’ll go get my pussy filled by someone who knows what to do with it! Blitzø will give me whatever I want!” It’s true, to some extent. He could definitely fill that whiny little clown in whatever way Fizz demands. But Blitzø could never dom Fizz the way Ozzie’s about to, and when he’s done here, he’ll be lucky if Fizz heads to him with any hole free to fill.
“Ozzie!”
He’s chosen his tools. Some for now, some for later. Asmodeus stands back up, stepping up to Fizzarolli’s level again, watching the little clown jolt in surprise at the sudden sight of him before he goes back on the offensive. “About time! You gonna show me what a real dick can do, or do I need to call up—”
Asmodeus flips him onto his stomach, and Fizz shuts up immediately. His tail flicks in the air, confused, curious, a little angry still. The Sin drags his fingers down, slides down Fizz’s asscrack, and then his cunt, still not pressing in. He pulls at the side and slick dribbles out immediately, wetting his finger before he takes it away. Oz lets Fizz stew, wiggling and jutting his ass up, begging for more attention, until finally he hits his limit again.
“You’re being a dick! Fuck me! Oz,” his tail curls back to try and part his lips again, propping himself up on his thighs to entice, desperate for anything. “Come on already!”
He’s about to start another tantrum when Asmodeus grabs his first tool of the day and puts it to use. Fizz goes completely silent as he feels the press of the cool leather tip of the riding crop at his pussy, body tensing as Ozzie drags it up, teasingly tapping Fizz’s right ass cheek with it a couple of times before pulling back and coming down with an echoing crack.
Fizzarolli gasps, curling in on himself slightly, but he doesn’t dare lower his ass now. He knows better. Asmodeus hums as the first mark on his babydoll flushes prettily. The riding crop always leaves such nice little marks. “Nothing to say?” He teases, then swings down for another strike that lands barely an inch below the first. “You were so talkative just a minute ago, baby.”
The clown doesn’t dare take the bait, but it doesn’t slow Ozzie’s hand either way. He thrills in each hit, how Fizzarolli’s hat bells jingle with each shudder he gives after they make contact, how his tail has curled around his waist to stay out of the way. Fizz remains silent as Ozzie reaches his tenth hit, and then the Sin slides the crop between his lips, the leather soaking in clown juice as he keeps it there.
“How many?”
Fizz takes a moment, breathes in sharply, Oz can see his slim, splotched back expand as he processes that he’s just been asked a question. “Ten,” he replies, and his voice sounds scratchier, almost parched. “Sir.”
“Good boy.” Ozzie hums happily, reaching down and gripping Fizz’s ass, dropping the crop to part his cheeks as he leans down and lets his tongue loll out of his mouth. He waits patiently as his spit pools at the curled tip, a thick drop forming, and then it splashes down on the clown’s tight little pucker which twitches at the surprise contact before the spit dribbles lower and joins the sloppiness leaking out Fizz’s cunt. “You wanna be filled, baby?” Ozzie murmurs after a moment, and Fizz perks up under his touch, squirming best he can with his face pressed into the bed.
“Yes, please, sir, please!”
He presses his tongue to Fizz’s ass, easily coaxing open the tightness as he forces his way in and feels Fizz constrict around him. “Ozzie!” He’s whimpering his name, not in pleasure, but frustration. This isn’t what he wanted filled, nor is it how he wanted it, but bad little boys don’t get what they want. They get what they deserve.
Fizzarolli deserves another hit for his cheekiness. Ozzie’ll keep track, but right now he wants to get deeper. His hands grope at the clown’s tiny ass, holding him open as he pushes in further, delighting in how Fizz shifts and whines below him, unsatisfied. “Please,” the imp begs, but it’s only another add to his future count. There’s no begging to be done, no pleas to be made. This is the time for thank yous, and may I have anothers, and he will remember that by the time Ozzie’s done with him.
It takes no time at all to soften him up, preferred or not, Fizz can’t pretend he doesn’t like Oz’s tongue in his ass. Ozzie pulls back to enjoy his handiwork, a stretched, spit-soaked hole twitches below him as Fizz whines wordlessly to be refilled. He doesn’t need to wait long. Asmodeus picks up his next toy, pressing it in and watching as the imp’s greedy hole stretches easily around the fat plug until the flared base is all that’s left. It’s not Fizz’s display one, no pretty jewel left nestled between his cheeks. This one’s base is slimmer, curved to match the natural curve of his body. Meant for long use, and with a fun little bonus that his jeweled one doesn’t have.
He presses the remote in his hand, and Fizzarolli gasps as the vibrations start. He’s so surprised his thigh stumps lose what little grip they’d had, and he slides flat against the bed. He’s whimpering as he trembles, face pressing into the bed fully as he tries to push himself back up, but his thighs keep tensing and he gives up after another failed attempt.
“Ass up, baby, you know the rules.”
Fizz whimpers in reply, his limbless body squirming desperately against the bed, but he fails once more as Ozzie turns the strength up, and Fizz can do nothing but lie there and feel. “I can’t,” he sniffles after a moment, turning his head to smush one cheek against the bed and try to look back. Ozzie steps out of his view, and he thrashes in frustration, not that it does much.
“Up.”
His tail flicks angrily, and Fizz growls and kicks a thigh pathetically. “Gimme my fucking limbs back, and I’ll get up!”
The riding crop snaps down hard on the back of one thigh, and Fizz screams, though Ozzie can’t quite tell if it’s from the pain or the surprise or both. He does it again on the other one, and Fizz’s reaction is milder this time, slightly more prepared.
“Bad boys don’t get to make demands. Up.”
Fizzarolli sniffles, grumbling something under his breath, but he tries again, thighs shaking as he pushes himself back with his face to get a little more leverage, and then he’s back up, ass on display, cheeks ever so slightly jiggling from the vibrations running through him. His cunt is drenched, inner thighs so slick it’s honestly shocking he didn’t slip again. Ozzie strikes his ass with the riding crop, and Fizz chokes on his cry as his tail slowly winds around his waist again, ready for what he knows is to come.
“Look at you, see, I knew you could do it.” Ozzie trails the crop down Fizz’s cheeks, tapping it against the plug and chuckling at the stilted sound he gets from Fizz for it. “You gonna thank me for filling you up? I’ve been waiting.”
“Thank… you…” Fizz grits the words out through clenched teeth, and it earns him another hard hit to his right thigh. “Thank you!” He tries again, but it’s still not enough. Ozzie hits him again. “Thank you, sir!”
“How do you always forget?” Ozzie sighs, back to running the soft leather tip of the crop against Fizz’s ass and thighs, watching him twitch and squirm. He turns the plug off, and Fizz relaxes slightly. Mistake. Ozzie hits him in that curve where his ass and thigh meet, Fizz gasping as he tenses back up in full. “Almost makes me think you do it on purpose.”
“No, sir, sorry, sir,” Fizz scrambles to get the reply out, and Ozzie laughs at his desperation. He knows it’s true, knows the difference between a Fizz egging him on for fun and one merely at the mercy of his own foolishness. Sometimes, like today, it starts as one and turns into the other.
Oz slides the riding crop down Fizz’s slit, pressing the tip to the imp’s clit, red and swollen and aching for attention. Fizz gasps at the friction, shuddering as he grinds against it and sobs with pleasure. Ozzie holds it still for him, a pang of affection tickling him at the earnestness. His little hips jerk, stumps sliding to keep him in place, but he can’t help it as he slips and falls, pinning the crop below him as he gasps and stills, eyes darting back to wait and see Ozzie’s reaction.
He smiles at him indulgently, giving the crop a little shake, not enough to free it. “Keep going, baby,” he encourages, and Fizz drops his head, grunting as he rubs against the crop frantically, not willing to let even a second of direct clit contact go to waste. Oz watches, lets Fizz rut like a sad little hellhound until he starts to lose his rhythm, a telltale sign he’s getting close, and then he yanks the crop away and Fizzarolli wails.
“Please! Please, please, I’ll be good, Daddy, please!” The little imp cries and sniffs, writhing pathetically until he rolls himself over, and Asmodeus’ cock aches at the sight. Fizz’s face is a mess of tears and drool, his hat askew, a horn peeking out. His little nipples are hard as rocks, nubs chafed from the constant rubbing against the bed. Cunt on a steady leak, clit an angry red, thighs spread wide and shaking. “Please let me come.”
“You gonna be a good boy?”
Fizzarolli nods wildly, his hat tipping further off his head until Oz reaches down and fixes it for him, cupping the clown’s face in his hands. “You promise?” He wipes Fizz’s cheeks, those big pink eyes staring up at him pleadingly.
“I’ll be good, Daddy, promise.”
Ozzie smiles, pulling back and grabbing the remote for the plug, turning it on. Fizz shudders, eyes fluttering shut, ready to sink into the pleasure. They open again at the sound of mechanical clicking, the clown pulling his head up from the bed to see his legs have been reattached. Ozzie pulls him up to stand at the edge of the bed, Fizz stumbling as he tries to steady himself.
“Prove it. Go pick out your clothes.”
Fizz looks up at Ozzie incredulously, then down at the mess he’d left on their bedroom floor, consisting of every piece of clothing Fizz owns. He looks back at Ozzie, but the Sin has settled on the edge of the bed, waiting expectantly, and the way Fizz’s face falls at the sight ensures he knows Oz means business. He slumps, slowly making his way down the steps, stumbling on the last few before he rights himself and stares at the chaos of fabric surrounding him.
He walks slowly, examining the piles, and when he finally bends down for one, he realizes he’s missing something very important to the mission— arms, and especially, hands. He turns back up to Ozzie, immediate frustration clear in his expression, but he seems to wilt when he sees Ozzie’s smile. This is the point. It’s not supposed to be easy.
Fizz struggles. He does his best to try and grab the colorful jumpsuit he’d decided on, but anytime he bends over Ozzie ups the strength of the plug and Fizz straightens back up on reflex. His tail helps a little, but the fabric is heavy, and somehow one of the pant legs has knotted itself with a shirt, and he can’t do anything.
They pause for a moment when Fizz turns back to look at him, and then the tears restart, the little imp’s lip wobbles hard as he tries to hold it back. “Daddy…” he snivels, hiccups, and then the real crying starts. “Help me…”
Ozzie tuts softly, pushing up off the bed. “You need Daddy’s help, baby?” Fizz nods, weeping softly and swaying from foot to foot, trying to self-soothe but it’s not enough. He chokes in a breath, and Oz swoops down, pulling him to his chest with one arm as he snags the jumpsuit with another. “We’ll work together, baby, but this is still your lesson. I’ll dress you, but you gotta take care of yourself first.” He pets Fizz’s back, stepping back up to the bed and settling next to the tool still waiting for its time in the spotlight. Fizzarolli leans against Ozzie’s chest, tears damp as they roll down feathers, the little clown whimpering as his legs are spread and Ozzie settles him on top of one of his thighs.
He’d been dressed, ready to start his day before this whole debacle began, and had luckily decided on a pair of thick tights to wear under his skirt today. He nudges his thigh slightly, Fizz wobbling before he presses a hand to his back for balance. “You wanna get off, Fizzie? You’re gonna work for it.” He pushes down on Fizz slightly and drags him forward, the clown gasping and jerking his hips as the friction from Ozzie’s tights burns against his clit. It’s perfectly exposed like this, the Sin’s thigh so thick, Fizz has no choice but to have his cunt pressed right to it.
Fizz looks up at Ozzie with a miserable face so cute Oz can’t help but smile as he loosens his grip. “I’ll make sure you don’t fall off, don’t worry.” The way the imp’s face darkens ensures that wasn’t his gripe at all, of course, Ozzie knows that, but his hips start to buck anyway. Fizzarolli will get himself off like this, or he’s not gonna get off at all.
His rhythm is pathetic. All that feral energy from the start has been sapped out of him, but he has to keep going. His Daddy won’t help, not yet, not til he proves he can listen to orders. Fizz whines, eyes screwing shut as he focuses on grinding, Ozzie’s hands grazing him ever so slightly whenever he starts to tilt and lose his focus. The Sin watches in earnest, drinking in the pure, utter lust and savoring it.
Oz can feel the juice dripping down his thigh, can hear the desperate little pants as Fizz chases his pleasure, it’s intoxicating to watch. He could do this all day. But Fizz has a date to get to, and Ozzie’s got a factory to run. He turns up the plug again, and Fizz gasps as he grinds down harder, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he rolls his hips and finally—
It’s not a long orgasm, nor a powerful one. Weak, in all ways it can be, but Fizzarolli collapses from it anyway, body shaking as he falls into Ozzie and lets his mind go blissfully blank for a while. Asmodeus picks him up gently, holding him to his chest as he pets Fizz’s back and feels the weak aftershocks as they shudder through the imp’s lower half. The plug gets turned off, but not removed, Oz busying himself with the hand not cradling Fizzarolli by grabbing his final choice from the playbox and carefully sliding it onto the clown.
The sigil embossed in the metal front of the chastity belt responds to his touch, cinching itself until it’s perfectly flush with Fizz’s hips, his cunt. The imp squirms a little, but his eyes are still shut, mind still floating in the relief. Ozzie hums softly as he then grabs the jumpsuit, guiding Fizz’s legs through, then the rest of him.
Fizzarolli finally returns to reality at the sound of his arms clicking back into place, the clown gasping as his eyes snap open and he pushes away from Ozzie’s chest to see what’s happened in his mind’s absence. He looks down to see himself fully dressed and scoffs, glaring up at Oz with a sudden renewal of energy. “We’re not done!”
“Yes, we are,” Ozzie leans down and kisses his forehead before he picks Fizz up and brings them both down to the bedroom floor. “I’ve got some cleaning to do, and your phone’s just neighed, which I can only assume means Blitzø has that rust bucket of his idling in front of the tower.” He begins to pick up the clothes, smiling sweetly at Fizz. “Have a nice date.”
The imp looks baffled, a dozen different emotions flitting across his face before he settles on annoyance and stamps his foot. “That’s not fair! You said—”
“What did I say? Pretty sure all I promised you was a lesson, and I gave it.” Fizz’s phone neighs again and a hand stretches out to snatch it up from the nightstand, the imp glaring at it before tucking it into a pocket. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“Fine!” Fizzarolli huffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he turns toward the door. “Fine! I’ll just have Blitzø pick up your slack.”
“I wish him luck. Won’t be easy with you all locked up.”
The look of panic that shutters across Fizzarolli’s face is so delectable, Ozzie wishes he’d taken a picture. The imp gasps as he presses a hand to his crotch, feeling the smooth metal inside. It warmed to his body heat quickly, no surprise he’d not noticed until now with his mind so preoccupied. He whirls back to Ozzie’s side, grabbing at the Sin’s shirt. “Take it off! I’ll be good, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
“Already forgot your lesson the moment you got your limbs back, I expected as much, but this’ll remind you the lesson’s never really over, is it, baby?”
“But, but—” Fizz whimpers, tugging at Oz for attention but the Sin doesn’t stop collecting the clothes for a second. “I’m gonna drip everywhere! You didn’t even dry me off…”
“I’m sure Blitzø will love to clean you up. I’ll leave it to him. Oh! And here,” Ozzie straightens up and pulls the plug remote from his pocket, passing it to Fizz. He stares at it with wide eyes, suddenly realizing his ass has been made off limits too, thanks to it still being in when the chastity belt got locked in place. “Give that to Blitzø and be on your best behavior, or you’ll have another lesson once you get home. Understand?”
Fizzarolli shudders at the word lesson, his eyes going wide as he stares up at Ozzie, clutching the remote as he tries to read the Sin’s expression. His phone neighs again, and he falters, pulling it out and frowning at the flood of notifs from Blitzø waiting outside.
“Understand?” Ozzie repeats, and Fizz slumps, hands folding over his chest as he pouts up at him, the picture of unhappiness, but the Sin can see the way Fizz’s tail flicks with excitement.
“Yes, sir.”