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Cravings	By : Idolhands Category: A through F > Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Views: 9784 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Cravings
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 2
- 3
- 4
Title: CRAVINGS, part 3
By: Idol Hands
Rating: NC-17 (You wuz warned!)
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed are not my property but that of the estate of R. Dahl, Tim Burton, Freddie Highmore and Johnny Depp. However, my sick imagination belongs to my demons and I.
Warning: Chan/under-aged boy, prostitution, kidnapping, M/M Slash situations, D/S, really dark fiction.
Summary: Wonka creates a plan to deal with both his disobedient servant and his disgruntled heir. Perhaps a demonstration will satisfy everyone involved? Originally intended as a one shot, continued by popular demand.
Author’s notes: I still can’t believe I wrote this. Read at your own peril! Oh, and I dedicate Wonka’s poem to the many amazing fan fictions that I’ve read! Lemme know what you liked and what you might like to see, kay?

Wonka had his head pressed against his front door. He was waiting for the sound of Charlie’s door to close shut. When it finally clicked, he twisted on his tall heels, expecting to find his new servant right behind him.
The chocolatier hissed, “If it weren’t so useful, I’d cut the TONGUE right out of your mou--*”
But there was no one there - not left, not right. He stood for a second in confusion; in utter disbelief, like people whose cars are not where they parked them when they return.
“Uh, little boy, I did NOT say you could move! You get back here!” He announced sharply, his flutey voice echoing throughout his sprawling personal quarters.
When no response of any kind came, Wonka muttered to himself. “Why that little snozzwhanger.”
“Are you HIDING from me, Sebastian? THIS is not a game! You show yourself this INSTANT!” Mr. Wonka could not recall the last time he was this angry. What little could be seen of his skin, was flushed with rage.
Another pause. Nothing. Suddenly he announced, “LIGHTS OFF!” and all of the lights in his spacious flat went pitch black, one by one. Then from a coat hung near his front door, he pulled out his goggle-like glasses, and flicked a tiny switch on the side of them. The previously black lenses now glowed a soft neon green color. Wonka smiled broadly. This would make things much easier! He even started to hum his “Welcome Song” while he sauntered about his flat.
“HA! You want to play games with ME, ya little BRAT? You don’t even know WHAT yer up against! no one BEATS Willy Wonka! I created ALL the rules! I INVENTED all the…”
His boasting was interrupted by what his enhanced goggles had just spotted - a huddled glowing mass tucked inside his third shoe closet! He smirked wickedly and approached the heat-radiating object. Hopefully the little boy would run. That would be even more fun; a game of “catch me if you can” in his dark and thoroughly decorated rooms. Especially with his technical advantage! Sebastian wouldn’t stand a chance. But the form didn’t budge, not even when he finally grabbed it. Wonka was puzzled.
“LIGHTS ON!” He announced again. All the lights flicked on to his pre-set commands, creating a pleasantly dim-lit atmosphere. He crouched down to the boy’s small frame, his leather garments created creaking noises as he did so.
Sebastian was curled into a little ball. The child’s small frame was completely limp and he looked paler than usual. He had passed out, assumedly from fear. It was enticing and unnerving at the same time. Mr. Wonka was not accustomed to being concerned with the purchased boy. Sometimes the candy-maker would bathe or feed the lad by hand, read him a moral story, or allow him a small amount of videos, but not until after he had had his own ‘rewards’ for the evening. Even then, the boy had to be extra good to earn such attention. Sebastian had NOT been ‘extra good’ this evening. He stayed crouched over the unconscious form, head titled, watching the shallow breathes, as ideas formed into his mind.
He gently picked up the child into his arms, his smile broadening. No, he was not going to let this silly little incident spoil his evening any further. He’d make the best of it. He praised himself for always being so good at coming up with new ideas. This was going to be a very interesting evening indeed!

Meanwhile, just a little way down the hall, was a pensive and perplexed young man. Charlie Bucket had started to pull off his clothes as soon as he walked into his suite: his gloves, the bow tie, a hand-made jacket and an embroidered vest, all strewn over his floor and couch. He started to unbutton his sage shirt, one carved candy button on a time. His chest was well formed and tanned. Willy had started him on Supervitamin Candy shortly after he got to the factory as a child; the delicious stuff did wonders for your health, especially if you started taking it young. It had turned the scrawny Bucket child into a rather strapping young man, for whatever good it was worth. He attracted a lot of attention and took good photos for the press, that much was certain. The inheritor of the candy factory sat down on his work-out bench, the usual spot for his frustrations.
Charlie thought about Sebastian alone with Wonka in the man’s bedroom. It wasn’t like he couldn’t guess what might be happening. It was wrong, and it really shouldn’t turn him on like it was, but he knew Sebastian liked it to a certain extent too. The little boy had even said that his ‘new Master’ (imagine actually getting to CALL him that?) was far better at delving out pain and pleasure than his Keeper was. Charlie groaned. Why was Willy doing this to him?! He was finally going to be alone in the factory with his mesmerizing mentor!
Fully grown Charlie was feeling very pent up. Although he had amused himself with quite a bit of adult entertainment, he hadn’t ever bothered with anyone. What was the point? No one else talked, smelled, thought, or even walked (oh, that walk!) like Willy Wonka. Charlie was completely addicted to the man, but for Wonka he had to play innocent. It had served him well these last few years. Though the young man supposed, there was a part of him that was innocent still, sullied as he was at this point.
After meeting Sebastian, he really thought he had a chance to get through. Especially now that he actually knew what Willy wanted! He couldn’t have been more grateful for Sebastian’s confessions. Their value spared him a second of jealousy toward his pseudo clone, until just now. Then there was another problem…the exact way that Wonka manipulated the boy; he couldn’t even EAT without permission. How different was Charlie himself, from Sebastian? Emotionally tied up and tortured, by the great chocolatier, rather than physically? At least the child got laid. No, that was the wrong way to think.
“Ugh!” Charlie grabbed his head with both of his hands. His fantasies were impairing his judgment. But Willy Wonka’s confections were the stuff of fantasies; his mentor had encouraged him to indulge in every sort possible.
“Sweet inspiration is to be found everywhere, my dear boy! Don’t limit your thoughts just to pleasure. Real art comes from pain and my treats are all works of art.”
Wonka had said that to him at the fragile age of thirteen or so. Now, exactly as he had said the words, ‘my treats’, the eccentric man had deliberately wiped away a bit of chocolate that was stuck to the corner of Charlie’s small mouth. He then proceeded to lick it off his own glove, and let out a little noise of satisfaction at its flavor. Charlie’s mind was in a fog for the rest of the day; confused by his own little thoughts. He didn’t want to discuss it with his family though. He ended up having a lot of thoughts that he kept to himself. In the end, he supposed that he too was one of Wonka’s treats: a work of fleshly, edible art. Now, why wouldn’t the old man, “just reach out and grab it?” He sighed. What should he do?
Charlie wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting, his thoughts spinning around his handsome head, until the sound of something scraping under his front door caught his ears. He leapt up off of his exercise equipment and stared at the parchment note with the red sealing wax; a top hat embellished upon it. A thought crossed Charlie’s mind. He quickly opened his elegant entrance, but no one was there. He hesitantly pulled open the folded note and read the calligraphy:
Blame it on the moon,
But Willy Wonka did it,
We left Camelot a trifle too soon,
The Devil’s playthings hid it.
Curious is as curious does,
Though if you truly have no fear,
Nothing really is as it ever was,
Still I need you to tell me you’re here.
Those pure of heart soon shall weep,
However my feelings by poetry just will not do,
For the forbidden knowledge that you seek,
Go to the electrical picture taboo.
It was an invitation…of sorts. It seemed clever, sad, threatening, and inviting all at the same time. Very Wonka.
“Electrical picture taboo?” Charlie rubbed his chin, scratching against his light stubble. He thought hard and re-read the odd poem.
“He means the Television Room!” he announced to the empty hallway. Charlie didn’t bother to do anything more than slam his door shut. Bare-chested and barefoot, he began to run down the dark hallway toward the Great Glass Elevator. The warmth of the factory, combined with his youthful excitement, kept him from noticing until he was halfway there. Whizzing by the rooms at a phenomenal speed, it was hard to make out anything clearly, the thing stood still only for a second here and there, but the entire factory seemed to have taken on a much stranger feel; objects seemed sharper, colors darker, patterns more bizarre. Or was it his imagination?
Arriving at the room in an absolute panic, clutching the note, the glass doors parted with a cheerful “ding”. Charlie stepped out, all nerves, but the whole room was dim. No one was there. Had he guessed wrong? He looked all around. The Television Room was different. He heard the elevator whoosh away and turned around. Unexpectedly, a shiver went down his spine, not an unfamiliar one. His mentor was here somewhere…watching.
“Willy?” Charlie’s voice sounded childish even to himself.
A light beamed down from the glass tube, there was another note stuck inside it. Charlie kept looking around, but proceeded to the platform, hiking himself up to where Mike TeeVee had stood many years ago. “Wonkavision” had ended up winning his mentor a Nobel Prize; making Wonka a hero to a world that he couldn’t stand. Irony - Willy’s favorite flavor. Charlie wasn’t sure he wanted to get into that tube, until he saw an “Out of Order” sign on the big, red button that normally ‘teleported’ the chocolate bars.
“Better be.” He mubbled to himself. He stood on his tiptoes to read the small print on the parchment stuck to the inside of the glass. Then the transparent tube came sliding down at a rapid speed.
“TWACK!”
Charlie had reflexively shut his eyes and crossed his arms over his head, preparing for the worst. Instead, the wall of televisions started to light up, issuing various sorts of static and heavy metal music began playing. Charlie shielded his eyes from the blinding light with his forearm. He tried to look out at the room, but the paper was in his way. He could now clearly see the tiny writing:
SUCKER!
Enjoy the show.
Charlie ripped it down and started shouting a lot of words that he had learned from his Grandpa George. He pounded on the glass as hard as his muscles would let him. However, the glass was so thick that not a sound escaped from it, nor did it show the slightest sign of breaking. Charlie resorted to hand gestures.
Then Willy Wonka’s image appeared upon all the television screens and Charlie was left stunned. Wonka looked amazing! He was wearing a blood red satin shirt, with a stylized black wet leather vest and matching pants, that laced up the front. His lips were tinted to match the shirt exactly, but protective white goggles covered his eyes. Wonka’s image was being split and manipulated across the wall of televisions. Sometimes there was one large, flawless face, sometimes many; twisted and manipulated through the electronic media like a modern music video.
“Uh-uh. Baaad boy, Charlie.” Scolded Willy Wonka in a condescending tone. Some of the images showed him full length, revealing bright red shoes, peaking through the splits up the sides of his showy trousers. The calf-length boots laced up the sides. In reverse to his usual style, the red shoes bore black “W”’s layered onto them as well as the highest heels he had ever seen his benefactor wear! Light danced and shined all over the glossy material of his outrageous outfit. Wonka took a second to provocatively run his gloved hands up his form, then reached up and pulled the tassel of a cord, dangling from somewhere above his head. He grinned his glittery smile.
Charlie was confused. Was this real or recorded? Then, before he could think another thought, a deluge of water gushed from the ceiling well above Charlie’s head. The water was ice cold and he was completely drenched! His head was bowed down, but his mouth was wide open in shock. Charlie wiped away the water from his eyes and pushed back his short, sopping hair. He stared at the screens again.
“Next time, it won’t be water. So behave yourself.” Warned his mentor’s quirky voice.
Charlie’s eyes focused on Sebastian who was now standing against the glowing television screens. Though heavily shadowed by the light beaming behind him, Charlie could make out that the boy’s outfit was nearly identical to Mike TeeVee’s; a long-sleeved red shirt, under a black T-shirt that bore a flaming skull. The black pants were a little different than Mike’s, since they were covered in zippers. Wonka had captured the details of the high-top shoes and the child’s hair was slicked up with gel. However, a gag was wrapped around the boys face and a collar was bound across his throat with a leash extending to somewhere past the wall of television screens…
“Now YOU know what it’s like to be as mad as a wet hen!” The familiar form strolled out with a wide grin firmly planted on his face. Wearing his trademark top hat and holding the child’s leash, he looked like a mad ringleader. Wonka continued to walk towards Charlie in his glass cage: stiletto heels clicking against the polished white floor.
“My, my, my, you did arrive ‘undressed’ for the occasion, didn’t you?” He giggled and ran the tip of his lavender latex glove across an invisible path of Charlie’s form. The tip of the glove was longer and more pointed than usual, there were nails attached to them. The young man found himself pressing against the thick glass, looking wishfully at his mentor. His lips mouthed Willy’s name, and puffed hot air onto the glass, but not a sound could be heard.
“My dear boy, I can not hear a WORD that you are saying; just like CERTAIN mumblers.” He yanked at Sebastian’s chain with a sneer. Charlie remembered how much Willy hated that particular child. Poor Sebastian. He glanced over at the boy in his Mike costume, but the child’s eyes were focused on his Master only.
A tiny alarm went off and Mr. Wonka pulled out his expensive pocket watch, clicking it off. “Oh good, it’s time!”
He turned his face back up to Charlie’s with another toothy grin, “Yer really gonna like this part!” Wonka proceeded to pull off his top hat and throw back his head – his hair grew instantly longer with the gesture. Flipping his head back toward the other side, it grew longer still! The image was surreal, fantastical!
Wonka gave a wild laugh. “It kinda tickles!” Then he pulled off his goggles, speaking excitedly. “I finally fixed the gosh darn hair toffee!”
As the last few inches of his new hair trickled from his scalp, stopping near his waist, Charlie focused on Wonka’s eyes. He had put quite a lot of smoky eye shadow on, drawing him hopelessly into those ethereal lavender irises. Charlie thought he looked hypnotizing all vamped up; like one of his wet dreams come true. The young man was having a difficult time remaining standing. If there wasn’t an impenetrable layer of glass between them, he wasn’t sure exactly what he would do to his mentor. Probably whatever he wanted him to do.
Wonka started to walk away, but he kept talking, “I could have taken the stuff that gives you a goatee too, but I didn’t want to scratch up the boy’s pretty little face. So, I made two different formulas!” He yanked Sebastian’s leash mercilessly and headed toward the chair in front of the televisions. The little boy gave a helpless look to Charlie, his mouth wrapped around a large gobstopper that was strapped across his face with a leather band. From behind he could see that the boys hands were also clamped into a device, immobile. The cameras followed Willy Wonka and enhanced his every move. A single screen focusing on the heels, another on his bright mouth, the central ones creating a giant image of the chocolatier’s entire silhouette. He swayed and moved to the wild rhythms of the music.
“Seems like I’ve got two problems.” Said Wonka squinting his eyes, spinning Sebastian’s leash around his glamorous, shiny black pants.
“ONE, a rotten little boy who doesn’t know how to keep his mouth SHUT and TWO, a rude and overly curious heir. Let’s just see if we can’t just kill two birds with one stone. Hm?” He unwound the cord from his figure while colored lights painted the stark room. One couldn’t help but notice how well the tight pants emphasized the man’s posterior.
“Ya know, I really didn’t want you to know what I was doing in my free time, Charlie. But now that I know that you know, I figured I might as well let you know that I know that you know.” He paused, long finger to his “O” shaped mouth, attempting to calculate the statement that he had made.
“Yeah! That’s it!” His face brightened.
“Anyway, you really want to know about my secret appetites? Then, pay attention and don’t…touch anything.” He emphasized the word ‘anything’. Charlie wondered for a second what he could possibly ‘touch’ in his confined situation. Then glanced down at his own groin. Oh.
Mr. Wonka nodded with a grin. “This is gonna be fun!” He giggled and threw himself down into the solitary chair. It was a lot more cushioned than before and resembled a lazy boy recliner. He had started to pull Sebastian’s leash closer and closer to himself. Eventually the boy rested on his own knees, drawn all the way between Wonka’s spread eagle legs. The heels of the shoes tilted outward, displayed like spikes.
He began wrapping the fingers of his pointed glove around the ball of his cane. It had been propped against the chair. He pushed the cane between Sebastian’s legs and pressed firmly, but gently. The boy closed his eyes and submissively pressed the side of his face against the higher part of the glass, candy-filled cane. An object that had caused him so much fear was now part of a familiar dance. He ran his small, pink tongue around it as a demonstration for his Master.
Wonka pulled out a dangerously large pair of scissors from inside the arm of the chair. His eyes got an intense stare as the blades opened and headed toward the posed boy’s form. Charlie banged on the glass again. Wonka’s expression changed to annoyance.
“You really are a BAD boy, aren’t cha’ Charles? Hm, no p-p-blu.” All these years and he still couldn’t say the word! Charlie actually laughed out loud. Despite all of this erotic madness, his friend was still in there somewhere. It made his heart skip a familiar beat.
“Oh, Hornswagglers!” Wonka cursed himself. “Your FAMILY! If you think you can run amuck in my factory without them, then you’ve got another thing coming!” His stern face, changed quickly to bemusement at the last word.
“Well, we’ll see about that last bit. But until then, do NOT distract me again!” Mr. Wonka pointed one finger at his pupil, while pushing a button on the remote control with another. The complex remote was resting on the other arm of the chair. Charlie covered his head again as a heavier, but still clear, substance fell upon him.
It was Snozzberry scented oil! He looked at himself in awe as he glistened like his mentor’s clothes.
Mr. Wonka was biting the tip of one his nailed fingers, examining Charlie with a rather curious expression on his face. The heavy eye shadow emphasized the depth in his chameleon-like eyes and drew out the pallor of his skin. He quickly shook his head, like he was shaking away his thoughts, and re-focused on the fake Mike TeeVee between his legs.
He continued to slide the ferocious looking scissors down the back of the T-shirt’s neck, then glanced his eyes back at Charlie. The young man looked entranced, fearful, confused. Good. In a few precise slicing movements, the scissors exposed most of the still unhealed “W” shaped whip marks on the child’s back. Wonka gently scratched the tips of his nails across them, in long circular motions. Sebastian’s body quivered.
“Mmmmnn.” Wonka just made a contended sound. He pulled the scissors up toward the boy’s head and let the cold blades press against his innocent face. The camera focusing in: allowing the child’s long, dark eyelashes to be seen clearly. When the razor sharp blades created a slim cut at the edge of his gaunt cheekbone, the lashes twitched only slightly. A thin line of blood trickled down. The chocolatier bent his torso down to meet the thin red line with his tongue; the tip almost seemed pointed as well.
“Ca-chunk!” the scissor’s next victim was the harness across the doppelganger’s mouth. It fell to the floor and Wonka sat up in his commanding position again. Wonka twisted the cane up and around the back of the boy’s neck, pulling his head further down between his open legs.
“Undo the laces.” He commanded in a nearly guttural tone.
Sebastian began to obey by pulling at the end of one of the laces with his teeth. Unbeknown to the great chocolatier, this was a great privilege to the child. He really felt like he was unwrapping a present, not getting punished. Charlie finally got to see that his mentor had nothing to be ashamed of all of these years. In fact, it was as beautiful as the rest of him: smooth and pale, with a blush of pink at the tip.
Wonka smirked. The cameras allowed for very good vantage points: he was torn between which perspective to enjoy. The boy was nuzzling his new Master with the bridge of his nose, waiting for his next command.
“Obviously, I’m gonna hafta keep yer mouth much too busy to talk from now on.” His voice had that false sweet sound as he spoke. He pulled the cane back and whacked it full force into Sebastian’s arched rear. A muffled sound came from the boy. Wonka did this several times more, his breath getting heavier. The stinging sensation caused a tingling to run through the child’s anatomy. The twisted expression on the boy’s face showed more than pain, as a tear streamed down his cheek. Wonka bent down to lick that up as well. He focused on tasting the salty drop of water that his discipline had caused.
Then man’s voice took on a masculine tone as he ordered. “Your turn.”
Sebastian’s small tongue curled around his stiff shaft. It tasted exactly like his Master’s’s mouth; like pure sugar, with a hint of peppermint. The boy was amazingly gifted at this particular chore. The fact that his tongue was not large enough to cover much off the skin was a very big turn on. He would lick up one side, kitten-like, before twisting his head to do the same to the other. The pain he had just been put through also caused his mouth to salivate and grow quite warm.
“Thsssssst.” Wonka’s eyes squeezed shut as he indulged in the feel of it, a sharp sound escaping his ruby red mouth.
Sebastian knew that was his cue to wrap his lips around just the head of the pulsing rod and suck on it like a hard, round lollypop. In fact, Mr. Wonka had had him practice on such objects, but Mr. Wonka was far softer than any of the candy he sucked on. He flicked his tongue repeatedly across the opening, begging for the even sweeter release kept inside. But, it was much too soon for that, much too soon to know what flavor Mr. Wonka would take on this time. Instead his persistent pursing only won him another throaty command.
“Deeper.” There was a gasp that followed the effort to speak. Arms still secured behind his back, Sebastian had to carefully balance himself on his knees between his Master’s’s lap, in order to pivot at the right angle onto the hardening phallus. His small body was the perfect size for this task.
His hot mouth easily fit the first few inches, slowly he worked down the rest, until eventually it brushed the back of his throat. Then, he would suck very hard. The more forcefully he could do that, the better Mr. Wonka liked it, he also liked it when he jerked the muscles inside his tight throat – the walls roughly stroking him from inside the boy’s body.
“UHN!” A loud high-pitched sound escaped from Wonka’s own throat. He flung back his head, flipping the long hair, overwhelmed by the sensations. As his head was titled back, he glanced back at Charlie, still stuck in the glass tube in nothing but his wet, glossy tailored pants. They were sticking to his body and making his reaction to the entire scenario quite visible. One eyebrow arched keenly as Mr. Wonka estimated that Charlie had a little more to offer than himself. Then he was distracted again as Sebastian worked his artistry.
“AH!” His head jerked back forward, flipping the hair again, and draping it over the boy like a curtain. Sebastian had sped up the process, he knew it wouldn’t be long now. He could feel him twitching inside his mouth. He pushed against the pressure that Wonka’s cane was putting on his neck. He wanted to pull up a tad, assuring that some of the fluid would touch his tongue and not all escape down the back of his throat.
Wonderfully musical groaning sounds continued to emit from Mr. Wonka. Charlie wondered if his mentor would really notice if he did anything right now. He slowly moved one hand toward himself. His pants had grown extremely uncomfortable.
All of Sebastian’s efforts had paid off. His Master was in the throws of ecstasy and his mouth was filled with the flavor of hot French vanilla ice cream, like he imagined crème brulee would taste. The nails of the gloves sunk into the cushioned fabric on the arms of the chair, cane forgotten on the floor, music reaching a loud crescendo. The boy’s suction could get rather intense as he tried to pull as much of the sticky sweetness from the man as he could manage. The hollows of his cheeks became visible as his sucking insisted on more, even when his Master was bowed over and seemed spent.
“Uhh. No. Stop.” Mr. Wonka weakly protested, scarcely able to think straight. Sebastain, dressed in the tattered clothes of Mike TeeVee, did not obey. Mr. Wonka found himself unable to rest, the unrelenting requests overwhelming his biological urges. He was again extremely erect.
“UHN!” A much louder sound, followed by his eyes flashing open, made that fact apparent. A strobe light effect had started to kick in and Charlie could only make out sporadic images of the perverse sequence now taking place. Mr. Wonka had undone his vest and the material of the satin red shirt clung to his pale form. He had pulled Sebastian up to his face, in order to suck very firmly on the child’s slim neck. If Charlie could have heard anything, he would have expected to hear some sort of shout from the boy’s gaping mouth.
The next flashes showed that the two of them were as busy with their hands as they were with their mouths. The child’s hand harness had been unsprung and Sebastian unbuttoned the shirt, exposing more of Mr. Wonka’s glowing and slick skin. The candymaker’s hand was tucked under Sebastian’s pants undoing a zipper that ran from behind and under the boy’s crotch. He was fervently licking and sucking at the boy’s neck and face.
Charlie made out the exact second that Sebastian was positioned onto his mentor’s lap: his desperate need slipping deeply inside the boy. Again he imagined a scream could have been heard if the music wasn’t so loud. The televisions were flashing images to the tempo, reflecting the chaos of the strobe lights. The images were from a few previous sessions as well. Evidently this was not the first time Mr. Wonka had recorded his performance.
As accustomed as Charlie was becoming to his benefactor’s bizarre cravings, the image of Sebastian dressed in Wille’s former school uniform still threw him for a loop. His hands stopped moving momentarily, as he also noticed that the boy was strapped into a black dentist chair, with very ‘un-dentist like’ tools on a tray near him. He never wanted to see Wonka in a lab coat ever again! Sex and fear were a strange combination; but he was too aroused, even though he didn’t want to be, in that particular second. His body continued to beg for attention.
The young man focused back to the scene playing out under the flashing lights. Wonka had grown too aroused to handle the boy sitting forward on his back and was now twisting their bodies around, so that he could pin the boy beneath himself. Sebastian’s half-closed eyes conveyed pure lust. He was as far gone as his Master. It was nice to see the child experiencing pleasure, Charlie thought. Then he reminded himself that such pleasure was technically quite sinful. Maybe chocolate was the Devil’s plaything, but then he and Sebastian were Wonka’s.
The strobe lights bouncing and sliding off of Mr. Wonka’s rhythmically moving form was captivating and the cameras had set all of their focus upon it. The boy had lost one sneaker to the floor and his slim legs were as intertwined with the man’s as possible. The child was gripping the chocolatier’s back with all his strength, creating dramatic shadows in the shiny material.
Sebastian’s eyes were squeezed shut and his face looked angelic as he reached orgasm. The image captured vividly on the television screen. Charlie realized that Mr. Wonka’s eyes were quite open, though his body was still moving and he turned his exacting gaze toward his heir. Licking up Sebastian’s face again, a smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth as his eyes darted down to Charlie’s form. The young man was caught ‘red handed’. He reached over one hand and pushed a button on the remote, then returned to grinding into Sebastian as roughly and quickly as he could manage.
Charlie was drenched again, in a dark substance that he assumed to be liquid fudge. He heard Mr. Wonka laugh loudly, between his gasps, as he came into the boy. He was indeed one sick bastard.
The crazy lights ceased and only static televisions lit up the room again. Wonka had gotten up from the chair, casually re-lacing his pants and leaving Sebastian panting and writhing in pleasure. Shirt undone, long chocolate hair sticking to his pale skin, eye make-up smeared, he sauntered up to the glass tube again. Charlie looked like a giant chocolate bar to him. Wonka licked his lips leisurely.
“Satisfied?” the man asked, looking like a mixture of a whore and a rock star, but little like a confectioner.
Charlie just barely managed to re-zip his messy pants; an annoyed look on what was visible of his face. The chocolate slid off of the edible oil readily. He licked his finger tips, snozzberries were his favorite after all. He knew Wonka knew that too.
Wonka giggled, but the sound was tired, not his usual hysteria. “Well, ya know what they say, curiosity killed the…”
The glass tube had begun to lift up. Charlie and Mr. Wonka were both stunned for a second. Sebastian giggled.
Wonka attempted to spin around on his heels, but the pressure finally gave and the right one snapped, landing his glossy bottom onto the floor. Through his long hair he glared at the boy, mouth wide open.
A tiny “oops”, was all he got in return.
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Cravings