#bixfreed

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Day 18 - Genital Torture (Ballbusting) [Freed x Natsu]

"It just really pisses me off, y'know," Natsu ranted as he paced back and forth through the playroom, wearing his regular pants and nothing more. His hard chest flexed as he moved, one hand going through his hair, arm bulging and showing the muscle he possessed. "Like, it's such bull crap how they treat me!"

Freed watched from where he was bound to a St Andrews cross. He was naked, his hard cock bouncing against his stomach. He tracked each and every movement Natsu made, blood pumping in thrill as he experienced Natsu's anger first hand.

It was their first time together where Natsu was taking a more dominant role, and they'd discussed exactly what they both needed from it. Natsu needed a space to get out the anger, and frustration, and adrenaline that he usually didn't have an outlet for. He needed someone who would forget everything he said, and let him do whatever he needed to burn off the fury that he sometimes felt. All Freed needed was a man who could make him scared and turned on in warring, equal measure, and Natsu seemed to be just that man when he was in this mood.

Natsu needed more than a damn stress ball, he had said, and the wordplay had been too good for Freed to pass over.

"It's like half the time everyone's all, 'oh, Natsu's such a dumbass. He doesn't take anything seriously. He's an untrustworthy idiot.'" Natsu exclaimed, turning to Freed. "But then some random evil god, or cult, or dragon turns up and tries to kill everyone, and suddenly it's all 'Send Natsu to the front line, he'll sort it. Put it all on him. We'll make fun of him later, but now we're all one day away from death, it's Natsu time! It's just-Argh!"

With the roar of infuriation, Natsu dropped to one knee in front of Freed, and slammed a fist into his balls without a hint of mercy.

Freed let out a roar ripped straight out of his throat, throwing his head back against the cross as pain flooded his balls. It was a sudden and intense agony that had his eyes pricking with tears immediately, and came from a man who knew how to throw a punch. Freed breathed quick and unsteady, stomach flexing with each inhalation.

Natsu looked up at him, and Freed met the gaze. Natsu's expression was one of a manic sadist, who had just found a new way to inflict pain. He looked down at Freed's balls again, then to his face, then his balls again.

"Okay," Natsu said, face a wide grin now. "Yeah. That felt good. We're gonna be doin' this for a while."

He took Freed's balls in hands, none too lightly, and pulled them down to the bottom of his sac. He looped his fingers around them to trap them low, then rested the knuckles of his other hand against them. He pulled back just an inch, before giving another sharp punch straight to them.

Freed yelled out in agony, fighting against his binds to pull away from the torture. The chains wouldn't let him. Natsu sat back and watched as Freed thrashed through the ripples of pain. He openly laughed as Freed's cock leaked despite it.

He raised his foot and started to gently tap at Freed's balls with the sole of his sandal. After two brutal punches in such fast succession, even the gentleness of the little taps had Freed whining and writhing in a desperate attempt to avoid them. Natsu kept going, grinning like an idiot with every obvious sound of pain Freed let out. He gave one harsher tap and laughed as Freed's balls swung low from the abuse.

Suddenly, Natsu jumped up, and Freed tracked the movement. There was no point to it. All it would achieve would be to let Freed see whatever attack was coming.

"You see, this is what I need. Don't gotta act dumb here because that's the easiest way to have fun. Don't gotta be super serious because it's not that deep. Just gotta vent some shit and punch some balls."

"You don't have to punch them," Freed panted, voice higher than normal.

"Good point. I can kick 'em too."

And he did. He lurched forward and slammed his foot into Freed's balls, dragging out a near-scream of agony. He watched as Freed fell against the cross he was cuffed to, body lax and weak. His balls were red now, and looked painful as hell. The resounding hurt sat heavy and horrid in Freed's stomach, and one look at Natsu told him they weren't anywhere close to being done.

Natsu did a little fake out kick, ending the movement just before it hit Freed, and cackled at the whine and flinch Freed did. He did it two more times, before stepping back and running a hand through his hair again.

"You have no idea how good this feels. Nobody ever wants me to let it out, y'know? Nobody wants to know I actually am a badass, and that having fun doesn't change that. And that I'm smart, too. Smarter than people ever let me be. I'm either the super badass dragon slayer, or the dumbass. Never get to be anything else. Never get to show off when the stakes are low. Never get to put a guy in his place like this," Natsu cracked his knuckles. "Until now."

"Could I have," Freed panted, "A moment to catch my breath."

"Hm. Nah!"

Natsu placed both hands on Freed's shoulders, and slammed his knee into his balls. Freed howled, and Natsu laughed and dragged Freed into a kiss, ruined by Freed's weak sobbing and Natsu's open laughter.

"See. That's another thing. I never get a break. Never get down time, really, so I have to force it to feel relaxed. Because there's always something coming," Natsu stood back. "There's always something coming next, isn't there. The next dark guild. The next dumbass coming for revenge. The next asshole team of whatever-slayers." He turned to Freed with a nasty grin. "The next team trying to take over the guild?"

Freed froze. "Erm-"

"I was really pissed with you when you did that. Didn't even let me fight in the tourney, either. Kinda really unfair, isn't it. Definitely worth a couple punches, don't you think," he took Freed's head in his hands and bobbed it in a nod. "I agree."

He was on his knee again, and slammed his fist into Freed's balls without restraint. "That's for being a dick about the guild."

Another punch. "That's for thinking you were better than us."

A final punch. "And that's for trapping me in runes when I could've been havin' fun!"

Freed was crying now, and the pain seemed to be all there was in the world. He could only see Natsu through tearing eyes, and his limbs shook with the pressure of holding himself up against the cross. He wanted nothing more than to crumple to the ground and cradle his aching, brutalised balls.

Natsu was looking at him, and Freed knew that look all too well. It was the look of a newly found dominant, who was realising how beautiful a man in agony could be. How the peak form of a man was tearful, red, and shaking. How wounds could be like kisses, and cruelty could be kindness.

It wasn't just a blip. Natsu was as much a dom as he was a sub. A perfect, sadomasochist switch.

"Got a deal for ya, Freedy-Boy," Natsu said, kicking off his pants and standing there naked, and resplendently hard. "With my right hand, I'll jerk off. With my left, I squeeze those pretty balls. It keeps going until I cum. Once I do, sessions over." That was good. Freed could handle that. He nodded. "I'm gonna need you to say it."

"I agree. Do it."

"To what?"

Freed glared at him. "Squeeze my nuts until you cum."

Natsu cackled at him. He walked to the side table and used the lube there to slick his cock up. He practically bounded over to Freed, stroking himself as he did. He looked needy and close. He wouldn't last long. Freed just had to hold on. Just endure the hell that was about to come to him.

No problem.

But Natsu was vicious. He grabbed Freed by the balls and squeezed tight and firm. He jerked off fast and gripped even tighter. His thumb pushed into Freed's balls, kneading them and pummelling them without mercy. Freed thrashed and moaned and pleaded for mercy he knew he wouldn't get and didn't want anyway.

Natsu laughed and squeezed tighter. Freed bucked his hips and roared out unintelligible noises. Natsu pumped his cock faster and faster, fucking his fist and rolling his hips like this was the greatest pleasure he could ever feel. He squeezed and jerked and laughed.

Freed just cried, lost to the pain and the beauty of it.

A roar not belonging to Freed filled the room, followed fast by an eruption of hot cum hitting him on the chest and dripping down his stomach. The grip on his balls went away immediately, and soon enough the cuffs around his wrists were gone. Natsu helped him out from the cross, and set him on the cushioned ground. An ice pack was pressed gently on his balls, and Natsu smiled a soft smile. Aftercare came natural to him, too.

"Sadism becomes you, Natsu," Freed panted, voice weak.

"Better be a compliment."

"One of the best I can give in this room," Freed assured him.

"So we could do this again sometimes? Maybe, I dunno, once every other month. Just to…"

"Get it out of your system?" Freed offered, and Natsu nodded. "I think I'd enjoy that. Perhaps we can test out your proficiency with a crop."

"You want me to crop your balls?" Natsu sounded excited.

"You'd be the dominant; you'd be able to crop, whip, and hurt any part of me you wish," Freed grinned. Natsu beamed at him.

"Awesome," he hopped up, leaving Freed to hold the ice pack. Natsu stood above Freed, legs spread a little, and grinned. "Come on, get in a revenge shot, even the scores a little. Unless you're still in a subby mood. Not sure how- FUCK!"

Freed slammed his fist into Natsu's spent balls, and sent him falling to the floor. Natsu rolled around, cupping his sac, and cursing both Freed and himself for inviting such a hit. But the cursing soon became laughing, and Freed had to laugh too. Soon enough they were laughing, kissing, and wincing any time the other grazed their balls.

This new dynamic was weird, ridiculous, and sinfully thrilling.

Day 19 - Sensory Deprivation [Freed x Gajeel]

The coin landed on heads, and Gajeel let out a sigh that was probably meant to sound resigned. Freed knew better. He and Gajeel played with each other often enough for Freed to know exactly what mood Gajeel was in, and could easily guess who would be subbing. Gajeel was a king at slightly manipulating a coin before he tossed it, changing the weight balance so that it landed in line with his desires.

And today, Gajeel desired to be dominated.

Freed smiled at him almost pleasantly, and handed him the hair tie that sat on the table beside the coin. As Gajeel pulled his hair into a tight ponytail, Freed got to work unbuckling the straps of the newly modified bondage hood. The hood that Gajeel would be 'testing' for the next hour.

It was a beautiful thing, made of black leather and with a goal of total sensory depravation. It blocked the eyes with thick fabric, the nose had holes only just large enough to breathe through, and the mouth was covered by a small screw on plate of Gajeel's design. The plate allowed toys to be attached, which would be forced into the wearers mouth for as long as they wore the hood, as a sort of gag. Freed screwed on a three inch thick, bright pink dildo, and presented it to Gajeel.

Neither needing words, Freed slid the hood over Gajeel's head. He put the ponytail through the designated gap in the leather, then forced Gajeel to take every inch of the dildo, checked for breathing capabilities, and stepped back. Gajeel would not be able to see, hear, smell, or taste anything at all. All he could do was feel.

When Gajeel subbed, he liked it rough and he liked it intense. So Freed waited to make him squirm, before shoving him hard in the chest and sending him stumbling to the floor with a heavily muffled yell. Freed was on him within a moment, straddling him and pinning him down, overpowering him. He pinned Gajeel's hands to the side of his head in a position just awkward enough to be uncomfortable, before knocking his knees apart. Gajeel let it all happen, breathing heavily.

That was one of Freed's favourite things about Dragon Slayers. They were so reliant on their heightened senses, that when you deprived them, they got beautifully pliant.

He released the pin, knowing that Gajeel wouldn't move his hands now Freed had established control. He slid his hands under Gajeel's shirt, cold hands feeling Gajeel's firm, scarred abs and sending chills down him. His sliding movements were sporadic and random, with no logic to them and no hope of Gajeel being able to guess where they would go next.

To keep him on his toes, he did something Gajeel would be angry at later. He took Gajeels's shirt in hand, and tore it in two. The rip and tear wouldn't reach Gajeel's ears, but the drag of suddenly torn fabric would tell him what had happened, and his lagging brain would eventually catch up.

It was a clear message. Gajeel did not get to know what was happening. He didn't even get to guess.

Now his toy was shirtless, Freed took Gajeel's nipples between fingernails, and twisted them both with vicious glee. It was revenge for their previous session, with the clamps. But Freed didn't linger. Instead, he took the bottom cuffs of Gajeel's pants, and started to pull them off, holding them high in the air so Gajeel had no choice but to raise his legs, his ass rising off the ground. Once they were gone, Gajeel was left in just the hood and his tight little boxers, hard as a rock and breathing like a freight train.

For the next five minutes, Freed barely touched him. He walked around him, stepping firm enough for Gajeel to feel the vibrations of his footsteps. He nudged Gajeel with the toe of his boots sometimes. Gajeel didn't once move. He knew better. He was good for Freed.

Deciding he'd toyed with the man long enough for it to feel like an eternity, Freed stood over Gajeel, and simply sat on his stomach, putting his entire weight on him. Gajeel grunted at the sudden heft, and Freed grinned. Then he began to slap Gajeel. Not his face, the leather was too thick, but anywhere else he pleased. His chest, his sides, his thighs, and on a few instances his lovely pierced cock. He repeated slaps in the same places again and again, leaving beautiful red marks that sung testament to Freed's relentless strikes.

He stood up again, and hooked his booted toes under Gajeel, and nudged him again and again until Gajeel rolled over, ass firm and clenched. Freed would be kind soon enough, so it gave him just enough justification to be cruel.

Without warning, he slammed the sole of his boot into Gajeel's firm left cheek. A brutal stomp, that had Gajeel trying to turn over and roll into a ball to protect himself. Freed kept his foot there, holding him down. The tread of Freed's boot was barely visible on his ass, but visible nonetheless.

Next, he reached for a chilled bottle of water, uncapped it, and simply emptied it over Gajeel. The shock had Gajeel choking on the toy in his mouth, and Freed wondered what he felt. What he might think the water was. What he thought might be next.

One more nasty thing, then he would be nice.

He took a large candle that stood in the corner of the room, that had a wonderful pool of wax ready and waiting to be used. He took it over, grazed a nail down Gajeel's balls as a warning, before pouring the wax over them. Gajeel roared, but he could take it, and Freed let his man fester for a moment in the searing pain of burning balls, before wiping them clean. He wanted to hurt him, not injure him. A kind dominant he certainly was.

Gajeel panted and heaved as he steadied himself through the pain. They'd both given each other more, and had smiled through it, but the fear of not knowing what came next would be making everything one hundred times more intense.

Now, it was time to use that intensity to make Gajeel feel good.

Gajeel had naturally moved to an all-fours position when his balls had been waxed, and it was perfect for what Freed wanted to do. He gave Gajeel a firm slap on the ass, exasperating the resounding sting from his stomp, then spread Gajeel's cheeks wider. He got in position, blew a soft breath into Gajeel's greedy hole, then started to lick.

Muffled moans and groans barely breeched the hood, and Freed showed no mercy. He used every trick his clever tongue had. He knew exactly where to lick. How far in to go. Where Gajeel's prostate was. How much he could take before he got to the point of no return.

He teased and edged Gajeel relentlessly, cycling through every technique he had.

Slow, long licks.

A barrage of quick lapping.

Burying his face deep while squeezing Gajeel's cheeks so hard it must had stung.

But he never let him cum. They'd agreed an hour, and an hour of edging was exactly what Gajeel deserved today. Freed gave him just that. He knew his partner like a book and knew exactly how far to take him. So close. So close to making him cum on the floor, clenching and hot and needy. So close to release.

And he always pulled back. Gave him a bit of pain as the denial coursed through him. A slap to the rear. A drop of wax on the spine. A kick, when Gajeel seemed particularly close to cumming. A wonderful balance of pain and pleasure.

The clock chimed on the turn of an hour, and Freed smiled. He shoved Gajeel's side and had him on his back again. He sat between Gajeel's legs, spread them wide with firm hands, then lowered his head and took every studded inch of the man in his mouth, throat closing tight around the thick girth.

He sucked like the master he was, holding Gajeel's leg still and driving the man crazy. Gajeel tried to buck up into it, but the position Freed held him in didn't allow it. Not that he needed anything else.

Freed didn't edge him this time, and let Gajeel spurt hot and heavy into his mouth. He drank in every drop, relishing the slightly metallic salty taste, before Gajeel's limbs fell lax in the clear sign of a spent man.

Acting quickly, Freed gave Gajeel three firm pats on the cheek, their chosen sign that the mask was going to be removed. He undid the buckles, softened out the leather, and started to release him. Once his eyes were visible, Gajeel blinked a few times, and Freed helped him take the toy out of his mouth. It was slicked with a hell of a lot of spit and looked obscene in the most wonderful way.

Once the hood was off fully, Freed helped Gajeel swallowing some water. Gajeel grinned at him.

"Hood works," he said, a laugh in his throaty voice.

"It does." Freed agreed. "I never doubted your craftsmanship."

He helped Gajeel up, and watched as he dressed himself when he was steady on his feet. Freed produced a backup shirt that Gajeel could wear to walk home – one that suited his style while also being snug enough for Freed to appreciate the sight of it – and soon enough it looked like Gajeel had never been seen to at all. Gajeel said he had to leave soon, and Freed wished him well. But Gajeel lingered momentarily.

"One more thing, before I go," Gajeel said.

Before Freed could ask, Gajeel grabbed him and pulled him into a heated kiss. It was tow curling in it's intensity, but Freed didn't trust it. True enough, Gajeel used the kiss to tear Freed's own shirt in two. He walked off cackling, two fingers raised in the air, leaving Freed panting.

Freed laughed.

Day 20 - Mirror Sex [Freed x Jet]

Lit by candles that flickered quietly in the stillness of the playroom, Freed slowly turned Jet to face the mirror. He pressed soft kisses to the back of his neck, hands running down his sides in what he hoped was enough sensuality to let Jet get lost in the moment.

A quick glance up showed Jet with his head back, eyes closed, face blissed out. A beautiful look for him, but not the point. The point was that Jet should be seeing that side of himself.

"Eyes open, sweetheart," Freed whispered. Jet made a noise of complaint. "I want you to see yourself like this."

"I don't," Jet sighed.

"Hence why I'm in charge," Freed smiled, wrapping his arms tight around Jet's waist, to drive in the point. "Eyes open."

Seemingly with difficulty, Jet opened his eyes. Illuminated by flame, he was met with a wall of mirrors that usually were hidden by curtains during their play sessions. Jet was reflected in all of them. His clothes were a little mussed and ruffled, his cheeks red with a flush, and his eyes just a little manic. It was exactly as Freed loved having him.

As he sucked and bit at Jet's neck, he started to unbutton his shirt. Button by button, Jet's firm, tight chest was revealed. He slid the fabric down Jet's arms, leaving him shirtless and exposed to his own eyes.

"Keep them open," Freed instructed, hands roaming over Jet's firm stomach from behind. "Tell me what you see."

Jet whined. "I can't."

Too much too fast. Fair enough. "Then let me tell you what I see," Freed purred, pressing little kisses all along Jet's jaw from behind. "I see a beautiful, toned, taut little body, all riled up and waiting for me. I see a stomach sculpted from the imagination of the gods, and a chest so wonderfully defined that a twisted part of me wants to ruin it, just so nobody else can so much as glance at it."

Jet whined a cute little noise, and Freed lowered his hands and undid the fly of Jet's pants. He slid them down, kissing down Jet's spine as he lowered himself. Jet stepped out of them, his cock bouncing now freed from the fabric.

"I see a body that was meant to be fucked," Freed continued, gently rubbing his clothed crotch against the curve of Jet's bare ass. "And you might disagree, but I can assure you that anyone who has ever seen you like this would want nothing more than to have you, Jet. Nothing more than to give you the pleasure you're meant to feel."

"Just sayin' things," Jet slurred.

"No, I'm telling you what you can't yet see," he wrapped his arms around Jet's waist, grazing a soft knuckle down the straining hardness of his dick. "But you will. I'll see to that, no matter how long it takes."

"… take forever."

"Then I'll have a splendid eternity with you in my arms, won't I?" He dug his fingers into Jet's waist and began to kiss the back of his neck again. "But it wont take that long, not with how I see you. Not with eyes that look like that."

"Like what?"

"Like a hungry beast waiting to be tamed," Freed grinned, rolling his hips slowly. "Like every moment of every day, there's this animal lurking in you. One that wants to pound, and rage, and brat, but to ultimately submit. To let a man take care of you, and own you, and take you in his arms however he pleases." He scratched a hand down Jet's chest and felt the man shiver. "You hide it with smirks and quips and speed, but I see you, Jet. I see the man you try to hide."

"What man?"

"The man who keeps coming back to me. The man who quivers under my touch. The man who knows exactly what noises to make to drive me to distraction," Freed slid his hands down Jet's torso, and cupped his balls. He rolled them around his fingers, feeling Jet pushing back into him. "A man who can think with his cock, and looks positively regal doing it."

Jet shuddered out a breath. "Fuck me, Freed."

"Of course, Darling," Freed promised. "But keep those eyes open."

Freed stepped back, and stripped off quickly. He pulled a bottle of self-heating lube from a counter and spread some on his fingers, before gently pushing Jet towards the wall of mirrors. With a whispered instruction, he had Jet lean against the mirrors with both hands, his back curved and his ass out for Freed to enjoy. His eyes were still open, and Freed felt a shot of pride when he caught him looking at himself.

He slid a finger down Jet's spine, then lower, until it grazed over Jet's sensitive hole. He slid over it, before breaching it. Jet whined melodiously, his forehead resting against the glass of the mirror. He kept his eyes open.

Practiced and skilful, Freed began to stretch out Jet. First one finger, then two. He spread them and widened Jet, licking and kissing at Jet's back as he did so. A third and fourth finger soon was parting him fully. He curled his fingers and stretched him wide, a grin splitting his features when Jet pushed into it. He stroked his dry hand down Jet's back to settle him, before burning his lips back to Jet's ears.

"You're beautiful, Jet," he whispered. "And I want you to see yourself how I see you."

"How do you-ohhhfuckk."

Jet's slurred words coincided with Freed sliding his lubed dick into him, deep and slow. Jet pushed his plump ass up against Freed, and Freed held his waist tight to keep him there. Jet's jaw was slack and his expression blissful, and Freed was so fucking proud when he saw Jet still had his eyes wide open.

He kicked Jet's legs a little wider, his dick stroking Jet's prostate with the new angle. Jet's expression grew cloudy and hazy, head pushing into the mirror and hair a mess of sweat. Still, he looked at himself. His quivering body. His wide eyes. His face a damn picture of wonderment. Freed gave just the smallest of thrusts, and Jet groaned the low purr of a majestic lion.

Jet tried to rut further back into him. Tried to fuck himself on Freed's dick. He looked needy and wanton and desperate for a fuck. This was how Freed saw Jet. This was beauty. This was perfection.

"Don't," Jet panted, pushing his ass back as much as he could. "Don't drag it out. Can't keep lookin'…"

"Okay, sweetheart," Freed whispered.

He began to move his hips. Slow, but strong. Perfect gyrations that would drive any man wild. He interlaced his fingers with Jet's, keeping him pinned to the mirror with his eyes open. They could both see everything. See the strength of Freed pushing into Jet. See Jet's writhing, sweaty body as he surrendered into pleasure. See the look of a man on the brink of mindlessness, but grounded by the movement of his own body in the mirror.

Freed wished Jet saw the moment how he did. He wished that Jet could see this was a moment of masculine beauty, of two bodies becoming one. He wished Jet could see how perfectly, wonderfully open he really was. Firm body, wavering cock, awestruck expression.

In this moment, Jet was artwork, and it would be a tragedy if he couldn't see it.

"Ohmygod," Jet said, the words seemingly burning out his throat.

He felt it a moment before it happened. The clenching of a tight ass around his dick as Jet bucked his hips wild and free, cumming over the mirror without so much as touching himself. The splatter of his cum trailed down the mirror, warping their reflections. Freed stroked the rest of the orgasm out of Jet, humping himself to completion while catching Jet's eyes in the mirror.

Jet pushed into him, almost collapsing into Freed. Freed held him up, knowing that Jet's shaking thighs would soon give out under him. This session was intense – having Jet look at himself and see himself as he truly was – and his sub was about to drop. He had been so strong, and so good for Freed, and he needed to know how proud Freed was. But Jet didn't like words in moments like this. He liked to let his fast, clever mind conclude whatever he needed to.

Wordlessly, he pulled out of Jet, helped him stand up straight, and turned him around. He pulled Jet into his chest, a strong embrace that would hold him up for as long as he needed to be held.

In reality, Jet wouldn't suddenly see his worth and his beauty. But it would happen eventually. Freed would ensure it. Jet would see his worth, and Freed would get him there. One fuck at a time.

Day 21 - Monster Fucking [Freed x Elfman]

In a forest on the outskirts of Magnolia, two monsters faced each other.

A demon and a beast.

The demon stood tall, with thick fur covering its strong chest. Ink and feathers were marred together, and muscles rippled with every movement. A mane of thick green hair shot up in jagged shapes, bordered by warped and gnarled purple horns. Scales covered its face, and fangs glinted in the sunlight. A hefty cock of eleven inches swung low and firm, leaking with precum and plumping with anticipation.

The beast snarled as magic danced off its green scales. It was reptilian, and sharp in all senses. It was practically double the side of the demon, and exuded power and strength with boulder-like muscles. Its spine was covered in thick white fur, and its eyes were that of a predator. Its own cock, huge and twitching, was ready to dominate.

A game was in play. A game of power and domination. A hunt. A savage war. A fuck between monsters in the brambles and the mud.

In the silence of the forest, the two monsters looked at each other, sizing each other up. A battle for dominance would soon be afoot, and the prize was the brutal fuck they both craved. The demon rolled its shoulders, stretching its muscles and limbering up for the rush that was to come. The beast lowered itself on all fours, saliva sliding from its teeth and pooling on the undergrowth.

"Ready yourself," The demon instructed, and the beast spat in his direction. "The hunt is on."

With its words, the demon fizzled into runes and teleported itself to the middle thickness of the forest. The beast had been teleported too, to an equally random and secluded place. With scent and sound, they were to track one another, with victory coming in the form of a pliant monster spilling seed in the dirt, desperate and needy. One monster would dominate, the other would submit. There were no other options.

The demon began to run through the forest, sharp ears hearing unnatural moving of something trampling through the undergrowth. The beast was heavy footed and inelegant, and it would be its downfall.

Quick and powerful, the demon followed the sound of heavy movement. It's warped, naked body brushed against thorns and branches, mud squelching under it as it ran towards its prey. It stepped as lightly as it could, landing on the softness of mud, or roots that breached the ground so that it would not give out the same clues as the beast. This would be easy. Savage, aggressive, and easy.

With no warning, a shadow lurched from the undergrowth, pounced on the demon and pinned it down. The demon thrashed as green-scaled claws dug into its skin, and drool leaked over its face. It looked up with hatred at the beast, which seemed to be smiling a hunters smile.

The demon flipped them over, muscles burning with the effort to remove the behemoth. It pushed the beast into the mud, feeling the sting of nettles on its bare body as it pushed the beast down further.

Brutally, the beast swiped at it, and knocked the demon off. They leapt at each other in tandem, wrestling and rolling in the dirt as they tried to overpower one another. The demon punched and bit, the beast grappled and flipped. Every option was on the table. Crotch shots. Skull punches. Lacerations. Monstrous behaviour from monstrous men, where victory was all that mattered.

As they fought for victory, their cocks rutted against each other, hard and leaking.

In power, the beast would be undefeated. But the demon was clever. Tricksy. Evil. It allowed the beast to flip him, and accepted being shoved face first into the muck as the cost of victory. The demon let the beast pin him, but raised its ass. It ground into the beast's struggling cock, and the demon gyrated its hips to rub teasingly against the leaking member.

The beast, fool that it was, lost concentration.

Fast and vicious, the demon pushed the beast back. It took full advantage of the beasts dazed state, and shoved him face first into the ground. The beast was bent over a protruding, warped branch in a perfect arch, and the demon laughed an echoing laugh. It cast a spell, and runic binds wrapped around the beast's wrists, dragging it down deep into the ground. The demon took the beast's head, and buried it's face in the mud, just because it knew it could.

"Motherfucker," The beast snarled at it, and the demon laughed.

"Weak bitch," The demon retorted, and kicked the beast's legs wide and revealed its tight, waiting hole. "Say thank you and I'll go gentle."

"Fuck off!" The beast roared, fighting against the magical binds as if he had any hope of escape.

But this was the game, and the game had been won. The demon was the victor, and the beast knew the risk. More runes coiled around the beast, wrapping tight around its legs and pulling them far enough apart that it had to hurt like fuck. The demon raked a clawed hand down the beast's scales, watching as it shivered in lust. It really was a weak bitch, and the demon would relish making use of that.

No mercy nor restraint was needed. The demon lined its huge cock with the beast's hole and fucked into it brutally. Every damn inch of it was pushed deep and hard, and the beast snarled into the mud in agony and lust. The beast was a bitch, and loved this treatment. It loved every second of it. The humiliation and the pain and the defeat. The demon knew what the beast needed, and it was to be hunted and claimed.

"You're my bitch," The demon growled, rutting into the beast hard.

"Fuck you!" The beast roared.

"You want my cock like a cheap slut, and you know it," The demon piled on as it grabbed the beast's parted thighs and dug in its claws. "Fucking waste of breath bitch!"

The beast just snarled at him but pushed its ass back in time with a thrust. It was learning it's place. It was learning it's usefulness. It was learning it's role in the order of man, monster, and fuck toy.

"Say you're my bitch," The demon demanded, thrusting with his whole weight. The beast was shunted into the branch that had to hurt against its aching, needy cock. The beast said nothing, though, so the demon slapped him hard on the ass and took him rougher still. "Say you're my goddamn bitch, Elfman!"

"No," The beast growled.

"It's what you are. A bitch. A cock slut. A sleeve." Freed punctuated each word with a nasty thrust, pummelling the beast's ass raw and nasty. Every hit slammed into the beast's prostate, dragging out mud-gargled moans and sobs. "You're not a fucking man at all. Just a goddamn bitch!"

A roar and a shudder overtook the beast, and it rutted hard against the demon's cock. The beast thrashed and moaned and thrusted and humped. It threw its head back, arched itself in a perfect curve, and clenched so tight around the demon's plunging cock.

The demon slapped and clawed and beat the beast as it rode out it's orgasm. The beast's obvious pleasure as it was put in its place spoke to the demon primally, and it grabbed the split thighs tighter and gave the roughest fucking imaginable. Strike after strike after strike. It ripped apart the scaled hole and claimed it with hot, brimstone cum that had the beast roaring in pain and pleasure. It kept fucking, dumping every drop of its seed into the beast and making it his bitch in every damn sense of the word.

As fast as the feeling came, it went, and silence descended on the forest again.

The demon pulled out, dispelled the binds, and stepped back from the beast. The beat shone with magic, and shrank back into Elfman's body. He was wrecked with claw marks, bite marks, and cum leaking from his ass. He looked blissfully mindless, and his cock was still half hard despite apparently having spilled every drop of cum his balls held onto the root of the tree.

Following suit, the demon shone with magic too, and Freed stood in it's place. The two men, naked and dirty and battered, looked at each other for a moment while they caught their breath. Their meetings like this were once a year, and allowed an itch to be scratched. Something primal and monstrous lurked in them both, and this let them indulge.

"Holding my head in the mud was kinda bullshit," Elfman eventually said, and Freed laughed.

"I found it fun. I'm sure you'll try doing it to me next year," Freed shrugged, and looked around. "The house is this way."

Elfman followed him, walking towards where clothes, a hot bath, and shelter were waiting. He stepped in toe with Freed. "There's a lot I'm gonna be doin' next year."

Freed nearly stumbled when Elfman's big, battered hand squeezed his ass firm, and the shock turned to a conspiratorial laugh. "I look forward to it. Bitch."

"I'll show you who's a bitch," Elfman muttered, before shoving Freed full force to the side, directly into a dirty puddle of stagnant water. Freed stared up at him, surprise turning to heated satisfaction as Elfman pounced on him and kissed him. Heated, dominant, and monstrous.

Their hunt was not yet over. Either way, Freed would win.

Day 22 - Gunplay [Freed x Alzack]

"You're clear on safewords, and the rules of play," Freed said, sliding his fingers down the barrel of Alzack's gun. It was heavier than he had expected, and harsher to touch. It would be perfect. "The moment you want us to stop, you tell me and I'll stop."

"I understand," Alzack said quietly, looking nervous.

Of all the men Freed had expected might one day enter his playroom, Alzack had never been considered. Married and with a child, he seemed like the last person to need his services, but both he and his wife had come to his home with a revalation and a request. Alzack had a submissive side, and a fantasy he couldn't shake and his wife couldn't make real. They wanted Freed to take Alzack into the playroom, make the fantasy real.

And what a fantasy it was, too. Alzack didn't do things by halves, it seemed. Wanting to be held at gunpoint and 'forced' to fuck was not a fantasy for beginners.

But Freed was not the type to turn down a kinky man in need. He, Alzack and Bisca had a long conversation about how it would all work, what the limits of their dynamic had to be, and exactly what Alzack would be expected to do. He'd then taken one of Alzack's guns, spent a week learning how to use it, and readied their roleplay.

"Are you ready to begin, then?" Freed asked.

Alzack took a moment to think, then nodded. "Yes, I'm ready."

In that moment, Freed changed. His face glazed over and turned into an impassive glare. The modern suit, high ponytail, and false glasses added to a character he was playing. Maybe it was a mobster, maybe an assassin, maybe a career criminal. But there was separation from the Freed Alzack had known, and created a fantasy to indulge in. Alzack breathed in a little breath, sensing the shift in mood, and Freed smirked.

He raised the gun, flicked off the safety, and pressed it right into Alzack's forehead. If he pulled the trigger, the man would drop dead, and the danger had both men fizzing with anticipation.

"Strip."

Alzack didn't move for a moment, his eyes dancing over his own gun. Guns were a rarity, and Alzack likely never had been held at gunpoint before. The feeling of a cold, muffled barrel against his head – moments away from snuffing out his life – clearly had him hot and horny. Freed pushed the gun forward, making Alzack stumble back a little. The gasp and flush of his cheeks were wonderful. He was a natural sub, and Freed would relish this.

"Are you stupid?" Freed snapped. "When I tell you to strip, you take your damn clothes off. So, take," he pushed the gun forward, "your damn," he stepped into Alzack's space, face snarling, "clothes off."

A shuddering breath seemed to break the trance Alzack was in. He, with hands shaking with anticipation and perhaps a little fear, shrugged his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. His body was tight, abs flexing with each breath and nipples hard in the coldness of the room. He shivered and shuddered, nervousness coiling around him so obviously that Freed almost felt bad. But their time in planning their roleplay made it clear that Alzack was turned on by nerves.

Next, his pants went to the ground, leaving him standing in thin, grey, bulging briefs. His cock was wonderfully fat, and the briefs were such a sheer fabric Freed could see the veins through it. They weren't a typical pair. They had been worn for Freed's benefit, and Freed would not rush past that.

"Stop!" Freed snapped when Alzack went to remove the briefs. "Hands on your head. Now."

Alzack rushed to obey, the first flush of nerves dissipating with the duty of following orders. Freed pulled back the gun and circled Alzack, never once letting the gun point anywhere other than at him. Alzack really was quite handsome when shivering and pent up. A tight ass, long legs, a lightly muscled back, and a needy expression that occasionally parted for genuine fear.

When Freed was in front of Alzack again, he lowered the gun. Just for the fun of it, he pointed it right at Alzack's crotch. Alzack moaned, so Freed pushed on. He nudged it with the barrel of the gun, watching it bounce in the satin briefs.

"You enjoying this?" Freed asked, dragging the gun across Alzack's cock and watching as a stain of precum leaked into the briefs.

"Yes," Alzack gasped.

"I'll take a yes sir, goddamn it," Freed snarled, placing the gun right against Alzack's chest and pushing him back. He kept pushing, and Alzack could do nothing but walk backwards until he was pressed into Freed's St Andrews cross. He would look good in bondage, Freed thought, but that hadn't been discussed so it would have to wait. Now, he had a gun and a boy who salivated over the threat. Freed flicked the safety back on as subtly as he could as not to break the fantasy, and placed his finger on the trigger. "I asked you a question!"

"Yes sir, I'm enjoying it, sir," Alzack panted, perfect little sub in the making.

"Well then, you fuckin' pervert," Freed snapped, finding his stride in the role now. "Get those slutty fuckin' briefs off and get on your knees."

Alzack rushed to obey, and practically threw his briefs across the room, before dropping to his knees with a resounding thud. His fat cock wasn't the longest, but it strained hard and pretty, hitting up against his firm stomach with the aftershocks of movement.

Freed sauntered over him, cocked the gun and pressed it right against his forehead. He looked down at Alzack, Alzack looked up at him. Freed lowered the gun so it rested on his lips, and grinned. "Suck."

Alzack shuddered. "You want me to-"

"I don't want you to do anything. I am telling you to wrap those pretty, straight boy lips around the barrel of your own gun and suck it like you're going to be sucking my cock quite soon," he pushed the gun so that it parted Alzack's lips, and watched as the man's jaw dropped naturally. "Think of it like a rehearsal, with an edge."

The lure of threat seemed to be aphrodisiac enough for Alzack. He wrapped his lips around the barrel of the gun, cold metal forcing his jaw wide. He pushed himself down as far as he could, maybe taking three inches of it before it looked like he was struggling. Freed placed a hand on the back of Alzack's head, held him in place and pushed the gun perhaps an inch deeper. His cheeks went red and he gagged, and Freed found the sweet spot. That's how far he could fuck his victim's mouth, and he would find it joyous to do so.

He yanked the gun out of Alzack's mouth so fast the metal must have burned his tongue, and he was left gaping with his mouth open, looking up at Freed with wide, hungry eyes. Would his wife be glad to learn he was a natural born cocksucker, Freed wondered.

"Take out my cock, and suck me," Freed demanded, then rammed the gun into Alzack's temple, finger on the trigger. "And you're going to rub that little thing you call a dick until you cum. Because I will only cum when you realise that you belong on your knees with a gun to your head. And this doesn't end until I cum."

Alzack, dazed and panting and leaking so prettily, nodded.

He undid Freed's fly and pulled his cock out. He looked at it for a long moment, and it was probably the first time he'd held another man's cock in his hand. Freed pushed the gun harder into his skull, and it jolted Alzack back into the moment. He shifted on his knees, his rapid breaths hitting Freed's cock head on. He gently, tentatively took hold of it, slowly lowered his head, and opened his mouth. He didn't take the cock in his mouth, though, and Freed was getting impatient.

Mercilessly, he shoved his cock deep into Alzack's mouth, and the garbled gag was music to his ears. He watched as Alzack's eyes blew wide at the thickness suddenly buried in him, and saw in real time as bliss overtook him.

Rocking his hips, Freed began to fuck Alzack's face nice and slow. His mouth was warm, his tongue unmoving, and his teeth sometimes grazed Freed's dick. He didn't know what to do, but his lips were wrapped tight and he kept sucking, and as inelegant and untrained as he was, he was driving Freed mad.

"Didn't I tell you to touch yourself," Freed demanded. "You belong on your knees like this, Alzack, and you're going to learn that."

Alzack was grasping his cock instantly, jerking off and humping his fist with full body moves. As soon as he found his rhythm with his fist, he found one with his mouth. His teeth were contracted, his sucking more intentioned, and his tongue started to lick. Not perfect, but so fucking eager that Freed wanted nothing more than to slap him in praise. Perfect little straight boy, no longer.

Humping and sucking, Alzack leaned into the gun, pushing it hard against his head. He needed the danger, needed the threat and the fantasy. The reliance on the lie had Freed's balls retracting and pleasure rising hot in his stomach.

"I could make you do anything," Freed panted, hammering his cock into Alzack's mouth, balls slapping against his chin. "I could fuck you and you'd let me, could make you tell me all your fantasies, make you stay as my toy for as long as I want," He pushed the gun further against Alzack. "Could hit you. Kick you. Train you to cum just from a beating. You'd like that, wouldn't you straight boy?"

Alzack moaned and tried to take Freed's dick in deeper. His humping and fist fucking went manic and twitchy, and Freed knew Alzack wouldn't last long. He gave faster thrusts and pummelled Alzack's mouth without mercy, pulling on his hair while pushing the gun against him.

"Fucking cocksucker. You're a disgrace!"

Moaning around Freed's cock, Alzack gave a final full body shudder before shooting thick ropes of cum over Freed's legs and shoes. He shook and groaned and sucked, all while shooting load after load.

Freed knew he didn't have long before Alzack's adrenaline wore off. He gave three final slow thrusts into his mouth, drawing out obscene gags each time. Then he pulled his cock out, jerked it furiously, and shot his load onto the floor. His head threw back, his eyes glazed over, and his nerves burned in pleasure. He shook slightly and glanced at Alzack, who was kneeling still with a soft dick, looking at Freed with something close to reverence.

Both with drained balls, they caught their breath. Alzack spoke first. "I think I might be bi."

There had been a joking lilt in his voice, but Freed smiled gently. "If you and your wife explore that side of you, I think you'd be very popular."

Alzack smiled bashfully. "I should probably talk to her," he said softly. "Thank you."

"It was a pleasure," Freed assured him, and handed him his spit slicked gun. "One I'd like to repeat, should you ever find need of me."

Alzack took his gun, that had been pressed against him and sucked by him, and smiled. "Maybe I will."

Freed hoped he would. But if he didn't, then that would be okay. Alzack had realised he also liked men, and that he was naturally submissive. Helping him find that out had been a pleasure, and doing so with a sucked cock and a loaded gun only made it better. Asking for more… would just be selfish.

Day 23 - Praise Kink [Freed x Laxus]

Laxus was, in a word, wrecked.

Freed hadn't shown him a scrap of mercy for the entire day, nor had he asked for it. From the moment the clock had struck midnight, Freed had begun his torture. He'd first bound Laxus to the ceiling with rope, a spreader bar keeping his legs spread wide. He'd attacked him with a crop all over. His legs, chest, stomach, back, and balls had bore the brunt of a sharp lashing that had been as endless as it had been brutal.

Then there had been the wax. Droplets of it, hot and burning, had trailed down his body and burned him, crusting over into hardness. Laxus had roared and thrashed and taken it so prettily and so obediently.

Next, Freed had let out a barrage of punches, each coming with an insult to the kind of man Laxus was. Everything from his morals to his cock size had been insulted, and Laxus had been given no choice but to take it, swinging limply in his bounds. He'd sobbed and begged and made demands of his master that he knew would never be followed.

Throughout the day, Freed had never once let up his ferocity. He'd fucked Laxus raw, beat him in any way he saw fit, and used any toy in his arsenal. Anal hooks, ball stretchers, sensory hoods and even a sounding rod. The toys that Freed would never normally get to use were let loose on his personal, obedient little slave. There were no limits to this day, no torment too far for his slave to take, and Laxus could do nothing but let his body be used for sick, violent pleasure.

Not once, not for a moment in the eighteen long hours that Freed had battered, bruised and brutalised him, had Laxus' cock softened.

But now, torment was done. Laxus had endured his request for Freed to go all out on him, and not once had he used his safeword, or shown anything other than total and desperate lust for more. A pain slut, a submissive, and a whore all in one. Freed was so fucking proud of him, he nearly cried.

He untied the ropes that had been holding Laxus, and helped him lower his arms safely. Once the cuffs of the spreader bar were removed, Freed helped Laxus stand upright as he shook out his aching, battered muscles.

"You were so good for me," Freed whispered, taking a bottle of muscle relaxant lotion and rubbing it all over Laxus' torso. "I'm so proud of you, Dragon. You were wonderful."

At the words, Laxus had the exact same expression he had when Freed had punched him in the gut. Blissful, proud, and relaxed. He leant into Freed, resting his forehead against the crook of Freed's neck as his muscles came back to life under the magical lotions humming warmth.

"You were so strong," Freed continued, helping Laxus to the large bathroom attached to the playroom. "You took your beating so well. You looked magnificent."

"You looked magnificent," Laxus parroted in a murmur. "Love seeing you sadistic."

"We're not speaking of me right now, Dragon," Freed said, placing a soft kiss to the side of Laxus' head. "But thank you."

Freed opened the door to the bathroom, where a heavy layer of warming steam welcomed them. A bath had been prepared for them in the huge, claw footed tub, the temperature kept firm by runes around the perimeter. A bath bomb had fizzled into a thick layer of bubbles, scented exactly how Laxus liked it, with the usual scents of Freed's chosen cologne and soaps. One of the more melodious of Laxus' playlists hummed out of the speaker system, and once Freed shut the door behind them, there was nothing but the softness of aftercare to envelop them. He felt Laxus relax into him, and smiled.

"Yer spoiling me," Laxus slurred slightly.

"You have more than earned it," Freed assured him. "I know how much it took for you to let me do that. How hard it was to give up so much power for so long, and you did it magnificently. You took every hit and insult and game, and I know you wanted to safeword a few times and you managed not to, and I'm so proud of you. You looked so pretty."

Laxus blushed and rubbed up against Freed, cock hardening somehow despite the six orgasms that had ripped him apart since the day had begun. Freed should have expected it.

Ever since their first session, Laxus had yearned for praise. To be told he was impressive, and beautiful, and right. He would hide it by bluster, and macho bravado, and demands for more pain and more torment, but behind it all, he wanted to be a good boy and to be told it, too. Freed didn't give Laxus the praise he wanted all too often – inside of kink, anyway – but today, Laxus had earned all the praise he wanted.

He guided Laxus towards the waiting bath, hands stroking down his whiplashed back and over the growing welts that covered him. Laxus pushed back into them, yearning for the pain just as much as he yearned for praise.

"One day, I'll find the words to tell you how handsome you look when you're in pain," Freed whispered, kissing Laxus' shoulder from behind as they reached the bathtub. "The first time I hurt you – I really hurt you – it was… religious. Seeing you cry, and shake, and thrash… that's when you become god to me."

Laxus moaned, leaning back into Freed. "Yer gonna make me cum again."

"And you'll be the picture of agony when you do it," Freed purred. "But your muscles need to relax, and your beautiful body needs to be tended to, so let's get you in the bath and I can show you just how good, and how obedient you've been for me."

"Want you with me, Master," Laxus panted, placing his hands on the side of the bath. "Want to feel you."

"Then that's what you shall have," Freed assured him.

Freed made quick work of removing his pants and boxers, standing naked. Laxus looked at him the same way Freed looked at Laxus, with a reverence and love that had once seemed impossible to understand. Freed was perfect, unmarked, and barely exhausted. Laxus was the completely opposite. Freed had to wonder if Laxus saw his unblemished majesty in the same way he saw Laxus' ruined half-there wreck.

Knowing what his slave would want, Freed climbed into the bath first, spreading his legs wide enough for Laxus to fit between them. He looked up at Laxus, who was still blissed out slightly and waiting for an instruction. Such a good boy.

"Come on in, Darling Dragon," Freed instructed.

Laxus did as he was told, and climbed into the bath. His back laid against Freed's front, and he was slumped so far down that his chin rested on the surface of the water. Freed had his arms around Laxus' neck, resting against his chest. The salts and scents in the baths fizzed, silently encouraging Laxus' body to heal itself at a greater pace.

For a while, Freed said nothing. He played with Laxus' damp hair, scratched at his scalp, and held him as close as their positions allowed. He pressed a kiss onto the top of Laxus' head, and smiled softly when he felt Laxus' body shaking slightly. He was crying. Freed was shocked it had taken this long.

"You're the most perfect little slave, you know," Freed praised, hands grazing over Laxus' chest just to give him more contact. "I never dreamed I'd get to own a man as wonderful as you."

"Yer just saying that," Laxus murmured, voice a little tender. He needed this outlet. He cried far too infrequently.

"I'm not. I love you, Dragon, and I love that I get to own you," Freed pressed another kiss onto the top of Laxus' head. "I love that I own a man who is so strong, and virtuous, and powerful in his outer life. A love that I own a man of competence, and brilliance, and power. I love that I get to hurt you, and show you love, and hold you tightly whenever I please. I love that you let me be that person for you."

"Layin' it on a little thick," Laxus laughed, his other personality coming through. Freed grinned.

"About as thick as those lovely thighs of yours," Freed said, and Laxus laughed again. Freed leant down and squeezed a thigh, feeling the muscle bulge under his grasp. "I wonder how often you forget how sexy you are, Dragon. Because damn, Laxus, any time anyone sees you, they want you. They want your body, your words, your lips, your attention. The fact I'm the only one who gets to have that is… I will forever be aware of how lucky I am."

"Sweet talking mother fucker," Laxus murmured, before turning his head and taking Freed into a slow, tender kiss.

Laxus turned so that he was on all fours, half covered by the water, so he could better kiss Freed. He ran hands over Freed's strong stomach, rubbing the firmness of his abs before cupping his cheeks to hold him close. Freed grazed his hands down Laxus' muscled arms, then chest, then his abs, before finally taking his hard cock in his hand. Laxus moaned, bucked into it, and kissed Freed deeper.

With soft hands and slow movements, Freed stroked Laxus' aching, abused cock up and down, up and down. Laxus thrust into it, matching the pace as he kissed Freed with all the love a man could possess.

Freed felt lightning skitter across the surface of the water, leaking from his dragon as mindless pleasure took over him again. Freed sped up, pumping Laxus in earnest as Laxus started to fuck his hand. Freed stopped the slow kiss, and started to pepper chaste ones as his free hand tugged at Laxus hair.

He whispered his praises between every kiss. Perfect. Beautiful. Ruined. Majestic. Godly. Wonderful. Handsome. Everything.

Laxus moaned into Freed's lips with a sudden bend of the back, and he shot a few weak spurts of cum into the bath as the final orgasm his body could manage had him shivering. He looked pained and pleasured in equal measure, and once it ended he collapsed onto Freed, water splashing over the side of the tub. He nuzzled into Freed's chest, and stayed there.

Freed wrapped him up, and held him tight. One day, Laxus would know exactly how Freed felt for him. And until that day came, Freed would have no greater purpose than figuring out what those words were.

Day 24 - Gags [Freed x Jason]

"So, can you guess how this game is going to work based on its components?" Freed asked.

Set up on the wide table were the three times that would lead to Jason's domination. A stack of Sorcerer Weekly magazines in which Jason had written articles, a large looking hourglass filled with enchanted sand, and a black ball gag with a padlock on the buckle of the strap. It was a fun game that Freed had derived, and it would drive the poor, ridiculous journalist to a stage of madness.

Jason, who was fully naked as per Freed's instructions and awkwardly covering his crotch to hide his cock, looked over the table. He was smarter than he let on, and Freed wondered if maybe he would figure it out. But Jason shrugged, hands still over his crotch. "I dunno."

"This is every edition of Sorcerer Weekly you've written about Fairy Tail in the last year. I read each article, and tallied up every time you annoyed me. This is an hourglass magically modified so that, for every time you annoyed me in your writing, a minute is added. This is the gag that you will be wearing until all that time is over," Freed grinned. "Clever, no?"

"How, erm… how long is the timer set four."

"A little under seven hours," Freed smiled. "You work in print journalism, think of it like a gag order."

Jason gaped at Freed before, seemingly instinctively, he yelled, "Coooooool!"

He had cupped his hands over his mouth in a cone to increase the volume of his shout, and Freed instantly looked down to see Jason's cock and balls for the first time. His cock was, frankly, huge. Freed had to double take, and Jason squeaked before covering it up again. A well-hung man ashamed of his length.

This would be very fun.

Freed hadn't known what to expect from a session with Jason. It had come about when Jason had come to Fairy Tail, and told Freed that someone with a grudge agains the guild had heard the rumours about Freed's kink-focused lifestyle, and had sold the story to Jason in an attempt to discredit the guild. Jason had put a stop to it – apparently wizard's sex lives were a step too far for him – and wanted to let Freed know. But there had clearly been something more he wanted to say, and after some prompting, he had spoken rushed and in a single breath.

"I always wanted to be tied up and treated like a piece of meat by some hunky guy and now I know you do that kinda thing I want it to be you and thought I should ask but it's hard to get the words out but I want you to dom me man!"

Freed had grinned, given his hair a pull and eaten up the moan, and organised a date.

"What's gonna happen when I'm gagged?" Jason asked, voice buzzing with anticipation.

"You filled out a list of all the kinks you know you like and want to try out," Freed smiled. "For as long as you're gagged, I will do anything and everything from that list, at my leisure."

Jason moaned, and shifted where he stood. His big cock was getting hard, and Freed grinned. He picked up the gag and motioned for Jason to turn on the spot, which he did. Jason's mouth was already open, and Freed pulled the gag in and buckled it tight, so that Jason had no chance of removing it. He locked the buckle and pocketed the key, before roughly turning Jason to face him. He liked being manhandled, and Freed liked manhandling him.

Freed flipped over the hourglass, and the sand began to fall, with a holographic timer above it. Six hours, and fifty-seven minutes. Jason looked at it with wide eyes, the reality of the rest of his day setting in.

For a moment, Freed just looked at Jason. He suited being gagged and stripped. He had a slender, narrow little body with sharp nipples, barely a dusting of hair above his crotch, and legs so spindly that they looked like they would break. He was malleable, and nervous, and in desperate need of a firm hand.

Deciding not to warn him, Freed stepped forward into Jason's space, and knocked his hands to the side so that he could no longer cover himself up. He pushed Jason to the side, digging his waist into the table, and held his hands behind his back. With a spare piece of rope, he tied Jason's hands behind his back tight enough he wouldn't be able to move them, and gave him a firm slap on the ass for his efforts. Jason moaned into the gag, and Freed laughed at the sound of it. Spanking had been high on his list of likes, and Freed was going to make use of it.

He let Jason stand up and turned him around. His cock was half hard and leaking, pointing right at Freed. So needy. So pretty. Freed got down on one knee, and slapped the man's cock. Then again. Then again. Each concurrent hit got sharper, and Jason grew harder each time. He was jutting his crotch out to give Freed better access.

Needy indeed. Perfect.

Freed stood up again, and took a step back. Jason gave him as pitiable a look as a man could when he was gagged. Freed just smiled. "Are you a patient man, Jason?"

Jason took a moment to think, then shook his head.

"I thought not. Well, you might not like this. I'm going to leave you in here for the next hour, on your own. You are not to leave this room, under any circumstances," Freed smiled at Jason's look of confusion. "Entertain yourself however you please. Oh, and you're to remain fully hard at all times, and if you don't you'll be punished." Jason made a sound that might have been a question as to how Freed would punish him. "Well, I'll teach you what that nasty little thing does?"

He nodded to his electro-humbler, and left the room shortly after, leaving Jason alone with his imagination and the looming threat of a toy he would never really use on a newbie kinkster. He heard the sound of Jason's gagged complaints, and glanced over his shoulder to see the look of gloomy desperation on his needy new toys face.

This truly was going to be a fun afternoon.

An hour later, Freed teleported himself into his playroom, and laughed out loud at what he saw. Jason must have been struggling to keep himself hard, because he was currently bent over Freed's leather armchair, humping it like a mad dog in heat. The moment he saw Freed, he paused, and looked utterly humiliated. Another kink he liked.

Freed walked to the chair, and took a seat. He wordlessly grabbed Jason by the neck and all but shoved him over his knee, ass up high and ready for the next part of their game. Freed fluttered his hands, and summoned a smaller stack of Sorcerer Weekly editions.

"So this is how this will work," Freed began. "Every edition I have here has something you've written about me, that I disagree with. I'm going to read it out, and I'm going to give you a chance to explain yourself. If I'm satisfied, I'll do something I assure you that you'll enjoy. If I'm not satisfied, I will spank you. Understand?"

Jason gave a short nod, before screwing up his face and pointing to his gag. He made a noise that, Freed assumed, questioned how he would be able to explain himself if he was gagged. Freed just laughed.

"The gag will make this remarkably difficult, won't it? Now, let's start with your comments about the time I cut my hair."

Two hours, and one hundred and seventeen slaps to his bare ass later, the game was done and Jason was left an agonised, weeping, leg humping mess. Jason had no shame in his day to day life, yet somehow had less during play. He was mindlessly trying to get his cock to spend over Freed, begging through the gag and pushing his ass up higher to get the full effect of each spank.

Freed stood up without warning, sending Jason sprawling to the ground where he remained, his thin body heaving with every breath. Freed stepped over him, intentionally dragging the toe of a booted foot over the tender flesh of his spanked ass.

"I must say, Jason, this is the most pleasant time I've ever spent with you," Freed commented, taking a sip of water. He made sure to watch Jason as he drank, clocking wether Jason needed water too. He barely seemed bothered by it, and instead was watching Freed's tented crotch with wrapped attention. "Perhaps it's because you can't say anything irritating. Quite the reprieve, I must say."

Jason gave him a dirty look, but Freed didn't miss the little air hump his words caused. Degradation kink; always fun.

"I do mean it, I enjoy having you so… agreeably pathetic. And that frankly ridiculous dick of yours seems to love it too," Freed walked to him, and nudged the hard-on with his foot. Jason groaned, and looked up with his pretty gagged face. "I'd like to have you like this again, actually. So I propose a deal. We're nearly halfway through the time, so what say I fuck you into the halfway point, and we end our session there today. We do the next half whenever you're ready."

Jason almost immediately nodded, but Freed stopped him by grabbing the back of the gag and holding it tight. Jason had a kink listed highly on his liked list, that needed a change of venue to be achieved.

Semi-public and dangerous.

"There's a little twist, though. The second half of your punishment will be undertaken in the Sorcerer Weekly building." Jason's eyes grew wide. "In your studio." He visibly swallowed. "And I get to use your camera and take as many pictures of you in that pretty little gag as I want." Jason moaned, and rutted his hips like he didn't know he was doing it. "So, with all the information presented, do you want me to fuck you, Jason?"

The second Jason nodded, Freed shoved him on all fours, and grabbed the back of the gag like the reins of a horse. He pulled his cock out, used a combination of spit and Jason's precum as lube – raw fucking was also on his list – and lined himself up with Jason's hole.

"Ready, Jason?" Freed asked with a low, husky voice. Jason nodded

Immediately, Freed fucked him rough and fast. He cared little for Jason's pain and comfort. He knew a cock slut when he saw one, and Jason certainly was one. Freed knew the rumours. Knew that Jason had a quiet reputation in the gay wizard in community of cruising anyone he thought would be willing after a modelling session. He knew all about the Sorcerer Weekly glory hole, and had used it once for some stress relief. He knew full well who those moans belonged to, and knew Jason could take a dick like a god.

One hand dragging Jason's head back with the strap of the gag, the other steadying his balance on Jason's waist, Freed rutted like an animal. Jason moaned and groaned and let his body be used. He was a first time sub, yet fell into the role like he was meant for it. And Freed would have him again.

Again and again and again.

Jason groaned, clenched so tight around Freed's cock that it hurt, and rutted back into him. Freed pulled Jason back, so he kneeled, back pressed against Freed's chest as cum erupted in a manic explosion.

Freed followed suit, filling his new sub with his seed and claiming him without abandon. Jason was unexpected, but perfect, and Freed would relish every chance he got to put the man in his place and turn him into a cock slut bitch who lived to be spanked and screwed and owned.

The moment, as all moments of ecstasy did, passed faster than Freed wanted. He pulled out of Jason, removed the gag, and helped him get comfortable. Cuddled together, Jason spoke with a hoarse voice.

"If this is what writing insulting articles about you gets me, I'm gonna do a nasty hit piece on ya," Jason casually informed him. Freed smirked; so Jason was a little bratty as well.

"Fine. But I reserve the right to lock that huge cock of yours in a cage if it's as bad as I hope it will be."

"Anything you want, you blowhard egomaniac pretty boy."

Freed laughed, gave Jason's sore ass a nasty squeeze, and pulled him into a slow kiss. Jason melted into it, as all good subs did when Freed kissed him, and he silently started to plan out just what he'd do to Jason in his own studio. Whatever it was, Jason would never be able to look at his workspace the same way again.

Day 25 - Pillory/Stocks [Freed x Bickslow]

The joyous thing about Bickslow was that, when he was in play, he truly knew what that meant. He wasn't the biggest pain slut, nor the kinkiest man Freed knew, but he leant hard into what play was. He loved the fantasy, the absurdity, and the game of BDSM. Case in point, a week prior he had come to Freed with an idea for a roleplay, fit with characters, costumes, and specialised equipment.

Freed hadn't even considered denying him his request, absurd though it may be.

So now, Bickslow was trapped bent over with his hands and head trapped in an old fashioned pillory. He wore a full body, skintight, purple and yellow jester's outfit he'd found in a costume store, befit with a ridiculous jingling hat. The costume was tight enough to show every inch of his hot, hard body, and his leaking cock was practically obscene as it bulged against the spandex.

Freed himself was to be the prince in this medieval roleplay. He wore a roguishly ruffled shirt, older fashioned pants that hugged his ass perfectly, and a plastic crown Bickslow had given him.

The prince had been the subject of one too many jokes, Bickslow had said, and was now seeking revenge. He had trapped his naughty jester in the pillory and was going to do anything and everything his sadistic, princely mind came up with. The jester would regret making any jokes at the prince's expense, and the prince would realise that the jester better suited warming his bed than playing to the crowd. Bickslow had left the rest up to Freed and simply requested that Freed have fun with it.

Oh, and having Bickslow in a pillory was a delight. An opportunity too good to not make the most of. Freed had plans. And Bickslow, his naughty little jester, would learn his place before the day was done. Freed would make sure of it.

"Quite the predicament you've got yourself into," Freed commented, circling Bickslow as he gently scraped the head of a crop down his spine. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes sire," Bickslow said, voice practically brimming with excitement.

"One entirely of your own making, and I would wager, one that didn't happen without intention," Freed stepped in front of Bickslow, and stroked the crop down the side of his face. Bickslow tried to lean into it, as best as the binds would allow him. "Do you antagonise me on purpose, so that you'll end up like this, jester?"

"Yup, totally do," Bickslow laughed. "You're hot when you're pissed."

Freed whacked Bickslow hard across the face with the crop, and Bickslow whined at the pain of it. He wasn't the biggest pain slut, but he could take a hit well. He looked up at Freed with big puppy dog eyes that Freed didn't believe for a moment. Freed simply stroked the red mark on his face, then pushed pressure into the sting.

"If you want me angry at you, then being yourself is more than enough."

He stepped back, and positioned himself behind Bickslow. Bickslow turned as best he could to follow where Freed was, but the pillory wouldn't allow him to. He whined like a bitch as Freed just left him waiting. They both knew something was coming – something bad – and Freed loved letting Bickslow's imagination run wild.

Only when he was sure Bickslow was getting lost in a fantasy – his ass pushed out like he was presenting it – did Freed act. He struck Bickslow on the upper left thigh with the crop. Then the right. Then the left. Left. Right. Left. Right. Again and again. The same spot each time, cracking with a whoosh and dragging out a groan that turned to a roar. The spandex of his costume offered no support, and Bickslow could do nothing but let it happen as he took strike after strike.

It was as ridiculous as it was hot. The fabric of the cheap costume strained around Bickslow's fat, round ass. The bells on his hat jingled with every movement. The repeated whispering of 'My liege, please'. The fantasy was absurd, but the pain was real, and that's where the fun was.

"Little Jester, might I clue you in on something," Freed said, groping Bickslow's ass and kneading it. "Your jokes are terrible."

"Hey!" Bickslow argued, and Freed whacked his ass with a firm spank.

"Terrible. You haven't been anywhere near as funny as you think for years. As an entertainer, you're practically useless. Except, in one little way," Freed kneaded his ass again. "Seeing you prancing around in that tight thing, your cock barely visible it's so small-"

"I'm hung!" Bickslow argued.

"I keep you around, because watching you make an ass out of yourself gets me hard," Freed purred, scraping his nails into Bickslow's ass. "It gets me hard watching you humiliate yourself. It gets me hard hurting you. It gets me hard having you under my thumb."

"Speaking like that gets me hard," Bickslow groaned, then sniped. "And you can see that because I've got a massive, fat dick."

"No you don't," Freed stated, and Bickslow groaned a needy groan. "But the little joke you told me, at my expense and in front of my people, took things to a new level. You were baiting me, of course, but you pushed the limits nonetheless. As such, I think I'll do the same."

"How… how'ya gonna do that?"

"Like this, of course."

Freed took Bickslow's costume in hand, and tore it open wide enough for an obscene rip to reveal his ass. Bickslow moaned at the sound, and the coldness of the playroom on his ass. The man's rear was a perfect thing, with a smooth curve, just enough muscle, and a wonderful jiggle to it. The man was sex personified, it just took a certain type of man to look past the eccentricities and to meld with his kinks.

Reaching down, Freed placed the crop on the floor and picked up a paddle. Large, black, and covered in sharp metal spikes. He held it in front of Bickslow, and drank in the little gasp Bickslow couldn't fight back.

"Twenty hits on each cheek, then I'll fuck you," Freed informed him.

"Aww, that sounds nice," Bickslow laughed weakly. "I can totally take that. No problem. Hundred percent, baby."

"It doesn't matter if you can take it. All that matters is that you will, because you have no choice," He cupped Bickslow's cheek. "Your prince will hurt you, and you will take it, because that is how this works. Isn't it, Funny Man?"

"Yes Sire," Bickslow moaned.

Freed smiled at him, then slapped him hard across the face, knocking his jingling hat to the ground.

Standing behind Bickslow, Freed began his assault. He struck Bickslow's bare ass again and again, counting them out loud for Bickslow to hear. The spikes imprinted on his cheeks with each strike, and Bickslow yelled and thrashed and cursed as fizzling, hot pain gave way to true agony. Bickslow wanted to see what Freed could do with a paddle, and Freed was going to show him.

A pattern of pinholes from the spiked paddle bloomed on Bickslow's ass, and it only drove Freed to strike him harder and harder. Bickslow was crying now, and Freed loved it. He'd not be able to sit comfortably for weeks, and Freed would relish every squirm and pitiful whine he got to see.

He dropped the paddle and took Bickslow's plump, smarting cheeks in both hands. He kneaded them, rubbed the pain bone deep, and laughed. He made quick work of pulling out his cock and lubing it up. He parted Bickslow's cheeks, gave them a slap just to see them bounce and hear Bickslow whine, before he pushed his dick in deep.

Bickslow was a tight man every time Freed got to fuck him. The heat and pressure he put on Freed's dick was heaven, and Freed showed him no mercy. Bix was a gymnast and a sub; he took dick like nobody else.

Rough and fast and brutal, Freed fucked his Jester. Bickslow cried and moaned and begged for more because he was damn built for taking cock and taking pain. He liked the games, and the role play, and the characters. But he wanted the feeling. The agony of knowing he was owned, and possessed, and tethered to another man who made the decisions he wanted made for him. Bickslow was a slut, and a joy, and a wonderful delight of a man.

Only when Freed shunted himself deep into Bix, and filled him with his cum did Freed pull back. Bickslow looked boneless and tired, and a thin trail of his own cum was leaking down from the stained crotch of the costume. Freed caught his breath, groped Bickslow's ass, and slowly pulled out. He stepped in front of Bickslow, who smiled at him big and goofy.

"Can't believe you used the same paddle I got you last Christmas on me," Bickslow laughed.

"A lowly jester does not gift a future king anything," Freed sniffed.

"We're still going? Awesome. You gonna make me suck your dick. I love your dick!" Bickslow then shook his head, and got back into character, his fake guilty expression coming back. "What else are you gonna do to me, Sire?"

"You're in a pillory, Jester. What else would I do?" Freed said ambiguously. He walked to the far corner of the room and picked up a bucket heavy with sludge; a perfectly sanitary slime meant for kink, but Bickslow didn’t need to know that. He took it to Bickslow and placed it in front of him, laughing when Bickslow screwed his face up and demanded to know what it was. "About a week's worth of rotting food."

"No. Really?" Bickslow whined.

"You wanted commitment, and I know this is on your maybe list," Freed shrugged and lifted the bucket again. "Safeword?"

Bickslow shook his head. "Slop me up, Baby!"

Freed did just that. The bucket looked revolting, and Freed took great joy in pouring it down Bickslow's trapped back. He grinned as Bickslow twisted and coiled as the thick gloop covered him. It trailed down his body, over his beautiful ass, and Bickslow had no choice but to take it. This was the fun thing about Bickslow; he was up for pretty much anything, no matter how weird. And if the returned hardness of his cock bulge was telling, he liked getting messy.

To finish the day, Freed picked up Bickslow's hat and filled it with the remainder of the slop. He then placed it on Bickslow's head, and trapped the rotten food. It slid out from the hat, covering his face in the revolting mess. Freed smirked, and Bickslow groaned.

"You're such an ass."

"Call your prince that again, and you'll end up in a cage."

"Person cage or cock cage?" Bickslow grinned, tongue lolling out before recoiling when rotten egg fell onto it.

"Both," Freed grinned. "You're here for the next hour. I'll hose you down, fuck you again, and we'll see if you deserve freedom," he stepped back, looked at his sloppy, agonised sub, and turned his back. "Have fun."

For reasons that will be explained later, Freed will not indulge eye contact between himself and Bickslow. Not even in sexytimes. On the other hand, this hang-up has resulted in Bickslow being gifted a large number of eye masks, such as this dashing one:

Or this absolutely pimpin' one:

Bickslow cranks up the kinky when he's with Freed biblically (or demonically, as it were). There's no gentleness or caution, because Bix refuses to patronize Freed by acting like he's fragile or can't speak up. Freed keeps up remarkably well.