Prisoner dragged through the woods!
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@parallelephemera
Prisoner dragged through the woods!

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This scientist's face shows no sign of any emotion as she straps you down to a chair and starts applying a transparent gel to your lips and tongue with two gloved fingers. She remains unmoved by your attempts to ask what it is as the inside of your mouth starts prickling, growing sensitive, feeling almost swollen. You become acutely aware of every single movement of your own tongue and realize that you feel pleasure, your legs tensing against the restraints just from licking your lips, fighting to keep moans in the back of your throat. She doesn't react as she reaches inside your mouth again with one hand, writing down observation with the other, seemingly almost bored by the choked groans of pleasure you try to swallow. Her latex clad fingers feel so good rubbing against your tongue, you barely notice how much you're drooling all over her hand. As she reached deeper and deeper, you find your throat opens easily around her intrusion and your eyes roll back, the rest of your body trembling with overwhelming ecstasy. After who knows how many orgasms, just from having your mouth played with, she pulls out her hand and wipes it on her coat. In your dazed state, you manage to catch just a glimpse of her notes.
"Duration of the effects : Permanent"
medieval problem
you were told there would be "cow girls" at this ranch but what they meant was actually "really pent up minotaur women with cock the length of your torso". they do lactate a lot though.
Lesbian hip hop group Yo Majesty at Øyafestivalen, Oslo, 2007

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Photos from The second coming : A Leatherdyke Reader (1996)
turned 24 recently… here’s some arm pics to celebrate :3
genuinely mad i cant.just wear this out rn
buy my porn🔗
"Stalking?" God forbid I'm detail-oriented and curious by nature.

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(me on a first date) and what do you think of the inherent intimacy of surgery? have you considered the love someone must have to put their hands under your skin and hold the most grotesque parts of you and put them back together nicely? is anyone really closer to you than that? we all get uh a little enamored on the surgery table don't we haha. wait come back
Say, "I deserve it." Very good. Say it again. Again.
Now say, "I love being treated like this." Stop fucking crying. Look at me. Say it with me: "I. Love. Being. Treated. Like. This."
Very good. You love being treated like this? Yeah? Say it. That's right, you do. You're doing so good for me.
All right, look at me. Focus. You ready for another? Say, "I want more."
Say it. "I want more." Good. Say, "I deserve it." Tell me you love being treated like this. You want more. Again. From the top. Again.
Breathe through it, you can keep going. Again. Don't stop, I'll be done soon. Keep going. Again.
Again.
it’s always so cute when the captured princesses try to act like they’re going to escape the dragon. girl you just got fucked for hours by a creature twice as big as a draft horse with the cocks to match and they were both in you. can you even walk? didn’t think so. now quit your bellyaching and cuddle up with your new girlfriend because she’s warm and that’ll make you less sore
captured princess “escaping”*
*dragging herself across the floor with her arms because her legs are too jellylike to support her weight

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therianthropy (sexual)
people love to be like "oh who cares about therians it's a bunch of kids having fun" and like yeah those kids are having fun but not every therian is that
i'm an adult and i am a beast and i want to fuck like one. i want to pin down a human and decide whether to eat them or fuck them. i want to drown their body in sloppy kisses with a prehensile tongue as long as their arm and savor their little whimpers as the conical papillae on my tongue dig into their sensitive spots. i want to dig my snout into their crotch and sniff to determine if they're worked up enough or if i have to open them with my tongue first. i want to feel them clench and spasm around my tongue as i pull it out and mount them and dig my claws into their hips to hold them still. i want to feel their warm skin on my soft underbelly as i slide deeper than anything is meant to go in them and bite down on their neck to hold them still while i use them
i want to wrap them in my wings and tail after and cradle them and coo over them as they kiss my snout and playfully try and fail to struggle free. i want to preen their hair and nibble their ears and gently bite at their hand when they pet me
this too is therianthropy
storage: small space and sensory deprivation
Everything clambers for your attention in the absence of normal stimulus. Hot air, skin sticking with sweat, pain points from constriction. Tongue tacky from dehydration. Head pounding low with dizzy fear. Pressure on your ears, over your eyes, blocking everything.
You saw nothing of your assailants, and they ensured you continued seeing nothing. With muffs went the hearing. With binds went your ability to thrash.
Hot, heavy silence now. Pillowy darkness pressing up against your vision.
You arch, the only movement available to you. You feel the binds shift, suspect metal chains, but hear nothing from it. No clatter, no crinkle, rustling, creaking. Your brain senses the materials by touch and considers hallucinating the expected sounds for you, but you're not that far gone yet.
There's you heaving with breath, muffled whooshing, which comes faintly to you through the small bones in your ears connected to your jaw. There's the intermittent bass pounding of your heart, more feeling than sound, but occasionally too loud to bear.
All of it competes to be noticed. You fixate only on the tightness of the space.
Walls just far apart enough to hold you. You couldn't tell what was happening until you slid into place and the air went still after some movement from above. Limbs already pinned in by the binds but held still further by the physical boundaries.
The walls hold you closer than you've ever been held before. You could swear they're pressing in, but it's just you coming further apart.
Time stretches forever as you shift, pant, cry out. Weep into the foam-padded blindfold. Grind your teeth into the gag. You can't even form words to keep you company, just useless sounds joining the saliva soaking the cloth. Gut taut with sickly panic, teeth aching from gnawing.
And still nothing changes.
Your inner ear tells you you're upright, that your box is motionless. Why dump you in here? Are they not transporting you elsewhere? Are you stored for later use? Will you die here?
The air cools slightly, but its lingering sense of suffocating stillness remains. The wet breath and sweat become clammy, and you shiver from exhaustion, strain, waves of fear, tomb-like cold. Your organs send warning pangs up to your brain for water, food, more air, less tension, begging for movement of any kind.
At some point, the body surrenders its panic, nervous system collapsing in, and you can't hold your head up or eyes open. Neither of those things change your current experience. Have minutes become hours? Panic turns seconds into days. You doze against your will.
Nothing changes. You'd say something breaks in you each time you return to the thought, but it's a continual process, pieces ground smaller and smaller every time you check back.
When you at last come alert some hours later, it's the reverberation of footsteps.
The movement transfers through the material to you, closer until it's just before you. You can't hear them, how many, what they say. It doesn't matter. The water lost through your renewed tears can't be helped, either.
As a hand lands on you, you cry out, straining with every muscle towards it. You sob, any fear left evaporating, with blind, delirious relief.