#s.cottearl

He’d known Pearl for years.

They’d even shared a blocky, ramshackle shelter once, back in Last Life, traded goods, laughed under the pixelated moon. He'd never suspected the darkness festering beneath her wide, seemingly innocent eyes. Not until the day the world shifted.

A misplaced pickaxe, a "friendly" visit that stretched too long, a glint in her eyes that made his skin crawl...

Then, the trap.

A simple pressure plate, triggered by his own weary step at the end of a long mining expedition. The world tilted, the floor beneath him dissolving into a pit, and he landed with a jarring thud on a bed of raw earth blocks, deep underground. Above, the trapdoor clanged shut. Darkness.

Then, the creak of a lever, and a single, flickering torch illuminated Pearl, her face a mask he’d never seen before.

“Hello, soulmate,” she’d purred, her voice a chilling caress. “Welcome home.”

Home. The word echoed like a sick joke in the suffocating confines of her dirt-floored basement. Days blurred into weeks. Scott lost track of the sun, the moon, even the concept of time. Each new dawn, marked by the faint, muffled sounds of the world above, brought with it the same dread. Pearl would descend, a shadow twisting the light from her lantern. She never needed a weapon. Her presence, her touch, was weapon enough.

“Good morning, my love,” she’d murmur, her breath hot against his ear, as she’d force him onto the musty mattress. Her hands, rough from days of mining and crafting, would tear at his clothes, exposing him to the dank air. “Time to make memories.” She'd smile, her eyes glinting with a manic light. And then, the violation. She’d force herself upon him, his screams muffled by the dirt walls, his body a plaything for her twisted desires. The sound of her laughter would echo through the basement as she'd use him like an object, ignoring his sobs and pleas, lost in her own delusion. Her hands would clutch his dick, squeezing and pulling at it, twisting and yanking at his balls as she'd ram her cunt down onto him over and over again, all while whispering sickeningly sweet nothings. It was a daily ritual, a grotesque parody of intimacy, and it was all he had to look forward to, day after endless day.

He was her pet, her plaything. He was her soulmate, and the shared damage bond twisted every violation into something monstrous. When she forced herself upon him, he felt not just the tearing horror in his mind, but the searing, phantom pain in his own body, and he saw in her eyes a strange, almost ecstatic flicker – as if the faint ache she felt through their bond was a pleasure, a validation of her control.

He begged, he pleaded, he fought. He remembered the first time he tried to fight back, a desperate, pathetic struggle. She'd merely laughed, her grip like iron, and the effort had only prolonged the agony.

Each day, a piece of him died. His laughter, his easy smile, his passions – all buried under layers of filth and trauma. He became hollowed out, a ghost in his own skin, reduced to a collection of raw nerves and a constant, low thrum of fear. His three lives felt like an eternity of suffering, not a precious currency. He just wanted it to end.

Escape became his only prayer, his only flicker of humanity. 

He started observing. The loose block in the corner. The schedule of her 'visits'. The way she’d sometimes leave a pickaxe carelessly propped against the dirt wall while she prepared a "meal" of stale bread and rotten flesh. It took an eternity, or what felt like it. Digging with his bare, bloodied fingers, inch by agonizing inch, behind the loose block, praying she wouldn't notice the faint displacement of dirt. He gnawed at his fingers, tasting sweat and blood, forcing himself to move. His nails broke, his skin tore, but he dug. He was no longer Scott, the builder, the friend. He was an animal, digging for its life.

The day came. She was distracted. He moved. With a frantic burst of strength he hadn't known he possessed, he yanked at the loose block, revealing a narrow tunnel. He squeezed through, dirt crumbling onto his face, the taste of freedom a bitter, metallic tang on his tongue. He scrambled out, covered in grime, gasping for the fresh, unfiltered air of the surface.

He was out. He was free.

But he wasn't.

The sun felt like a searing torch on his skin. The vibrant greens and blues of the world mocked him. He looked at his reflection in a shallow pool of water – gaunt, eyes sunken, a permanent tremor in his hands. He was a creature of the dark, pulled from the abyss, but the abyss was still inside him. He couldn’t go back to the others. He couldn't face their pity, their questions. He couldn't be the Scott they remembered. That Scott was dead. Pearl had killed him.

A new, chilling clarity settled over him. He wasn't free. He was just outside the cage. True freedom, he realized, would only come when the one who caged him understood. Understood what it felt like. Understood the tearing, the degradation, the violation.

Revenge. It clung to him like a second skin, a suffocating cloak of darkness. He would make her feel it. Every single molecule of the pain she'd inflicted.

He tracked her for days, a hunter, guided by a primal, burning rage. He found her base, a quaint little tower, seemingly idyllic. The irony made him want to vomit. He waited for the moonless night, for the precise moment she’d be alone, vulnerable.

He broke in, silent as a wraith. He found her asleep in her bed, a peaceful expression on her face that made his stomach churn with bile. He dragged her out, her startled cry choked off by his hand, the familiar dread he’d only ever known aimed at himself now channeled outward, colder than obsidian.

He bound her, just as she had bound him. He dragged her to a secluded corner of her own basement, a place where the echoes of his screams would now be replaced by hers. His hands, still trembling from trauma, now moved with a purpose born of pure vengeance.

"You took everything," he hissed, his voice rising, cracking with the agony of a thousand suppressed nightmares. "You took me. You broke me. Now you'll feel what it's like."

He was no longer Scott. He was the monster she had carved him into.

He grabbed her, rough fingers digging into her soft flesh, and forced her onto the ground. He yanked her pants down, exposing her pale thighs, her body trembling in the same way his had for all those months. His eyes burned with a fury he didn’t recognize, but that he knew was born from her.

“Please…” she whimpered, her eyes wide, terrified. 

He didn’t listen. Just like she hadn't. He tore off his own pants, his dick already hard with a mixture of rage and twisted arousal. He spat on her, a viscous glob of saliva landing on her chest. “Look at yourself. You fucking whore." His voice was a snarl, a creature more than a man.

He grabbed her hips, his fingers bruising her skin, and rammed himself into her. She let out a pained cry, her body arching, but he didn’t stop. He thrust into her again and again, his movements rough, punishing.

“You like that?” he growled, his face a mask of hatred. “You like being fucked like the animal you are? You slut?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He kept going, his hips slamming into her, each thrust harder than the last. Her body shook beneath him, her sobs filling the room, and still, he didn’t stop, biting roughly into her neck viciously, even when his own began to bleed and ache, too.

He wanted to see her break. He wanted to see her shatter into a million pieces, just like he had. He wanted her to know the depth of the pain he’d endured at her hands. He leaned down, his mouth next to her ear, his breath hot and ragged. “It’s your turn to suffer.”

He reached down and grabbed her breasts, squeezing them hard, his fingers pinching her nipples, twisting them cruelly. She cried out, but he ignored her, his mind consumed by a single thought.

“You’re nothing,” he hissed again, his voice a venomous whisper. “Nothing but a fucking whore.” He kept thrusting, his movements relentless, his grip on her hips tightening.

He pulled out for a moment, only to flip her onto her stomach. She tried to crawl away, but he grabbed her ankles, pulling her back to him, forcing her to bend over. He spat on her ass, watching it dribble down her thighs, then shoved himself into her again.

She screamed, her voice raw, broken. “Please, Scott-”

He laughed, a cold, mirthless sound. “You didn’t stop. You didn’t care. Why should I?” He kept going, her pleas fueling his rage. He grabbed her hair, pulling her head back, exposing her neck. He bit down hard, his teeth sinking into her skin. She screamed, a sound that was part pain, part terror, and he felt a sick satisfaction.

He released her hair, only to slap her ass, the sound echoing in the room. She flinched, but he didn’t let up. He kept thrusting, kept hitting her, kept spitting on her, kept calling her every degrading name he could think of. He wanted to break her. He wanted to destroy her. He wanted to make her feel the full weight of his hatred. He reached down and grabbed her clit, pinching it hard, twisting it, pulling on it. She writhed beneath him, her body jerking, her cries turning into animalistic sobs.

He didn't stop until her body sagged, until she was sobbing uncontrollably, her face bruised and swollen, tears streaming down her cheeks. He pulled away, revulsion churning in his gut, but a bitter sense of triumph warring with it. He had done it. He had shown her. She understood.

He stood over her, breathing heavily, waiting for her to break, to scream, to beg. Waiting for the final, agonizing collapse he had endured.

But then, a sound.

A strange, soft sound, like a broken music box winding up. It wasn't a sob. It was a gurgle. A chuckle.

Pearl laughed.

It started small, a low, breathy sound from deep in her chest. Then it grew, bubbling up, a perverse, joyful sound that echoed in the small, dark basement. Her body still trembled, but not with fear or grief. It was with a strange, unholy delight.

Scott stumbled back, his blood running cold. "What... what are you doing?" he choked out, his revenge suddenly turning to ash in his mouth.

Pearl looked up at him, her eyes still wet with tears, but now shining with a manic, unhinged glee. A wide, terrifying smile spread across her bruised lips, revealing a flash of white, unnervingly perfect teeth.

"Oh, Scott," she purred, her voice dripping with an almost sickening sweetness. "You really do love me, don't you?"

Scott stared, his mind reeling. "What? What are you talking about?"

She pushed herself up, slowly, her eyes never leaving his. "This!" she giggled, gesturing vaguely at her battered body, at the mess they had just made. "This proves it! I knew you weren't truly gay, Scott. All that talk... it was just a front, wasn't it? A way to resist. But you couldn't, could you? You couldn't deny the connection, the passion. You could have escaped, you could have run, but you came back for me. You can back to fuck me, because you knew, you knew you couldn't live without my cunt in you, you needed it, and so you came back. You're back. You love me. I love you. This... this is love, Scott. True, raw love."

Scott felt the blood drain from his face, leaving him colder than the stone blocks around them. "No! Pearl, you're insane! This... this was meant to hurt you! To show you what you did to me! I'm gay, you sick monster! I was just trying to make you understand!"

The words barely left his lips before Pearl moved. With a speed that belied her recent ordeal, she lunged. He stumbled back, but she was on him, a whirlwind of unexpected strength. He cried out, but her hand clamped over his mouth, her eyes blazing with an terrifying joy.

"Shhh, my love," she whispered, the words like poison in his ear. "Don't fight it. Don't fight us. This is beautiful. This is forever."

He felt her weight, felt her hands on him, mimicking the horror he had just inflicted. Her laughter filled the basement, a high-pitched, unhinged sound that echoed against the dirt walls. He struggled, a fresh wave of panic washing over him, more potent than any fear he had known before. His revenge had not just failed; it had amplified the torment, twisted it into something unspeakable. She was on top of him, forcing herself down onto his dick, using his body like he had just used hers, but with a feverish, manic passion. She kept going, slamming her body against his, using him like a toy, her movements wild and unhinged.

He thrashed beneath her, but she was relentless. She was so much stronger than he remembered, her grip on him like iron. Her hips moved in a frenzy, each thrust punishing, each breathy moan from her lips a dagger to his soul. He felt violated, used, destroyed – just as he had when she first trapped him in her basement.

The irony was a bitter poison.

"I love you, Scott," she gasped, her words hot against his face. "I've always loved you. This proves it. You love me too, don't you?" She didn't wait for an answer, her body moving faster, harder.

He was horrified. Horrified by her enjoyment of his violence, by her twisted interpretation of his trauma. And now, he was horrified by the realization that she was doing it again, here and now, turning his own weapon against him. But this time, it was worse. He saw the genuine, unadulterated pleasure on her face, heard the delight in her voice as she told him, over and over again, "I love you, Scott. I love you so much."

His world shattered anew. He was trapped, not just in this basement, but in a nightmare from which there was no escape. His lives, his very existence, were now bound to a cycle of perversion and pain, orchestrated by a monster who believed it was love. And as her laughter filled the air, Scott felt his last shred of sanity splinter and fall away, leaving behind only an echoing, primal scream that no one would ever hear.

The cycle continued. The horror never ended.

“There goes the girl without a soulmate.”

“So tragic, left alone.”

First, it was the quiet despair, the gnawing loneliness.

Then, it blossomed into a desperate hunger for connection, twisted by the unique rules of their reality. If Scott wouldn’t choose her, if the system had doomed her to this pathetic, singular existence, then she would take away his ability to choose. She would make him see, make him feel the tether that bound them. She would force him into the intimacy the server demanded, the intimacy she craved.

Her eyes, once hopeful, now held the glint of obsession. She started watching Scott, learning his routines, his vulnerabilities.

Eventually, she found her solution: Hypnosis. Not the stage tricks, but a deep, insidious penetration of the psyche, a re-sculpting of the will. She could fix him. 

It took weeks of practice, perfecting the subtle gestures, the cadence of her voice, the focused intent. She stalked Scott, waiting for the perfect moment. It came one evening, after a particularly brutal skirmish with a horde of zombies. Scott, battered and weary, had retreated to a secluded cave to tend his wounds. He was alone, vulnerable, and his guard was down.

Pearl approached, her face a mask of concern. “Scott? Are you okay? The fight felt rough.”

He looked up, surprised, but not alarmed at her presence. He'd taken quite a bit of damage, after all, it was only natural she came looking. “Pearl? Yeah, just a bit banged up, sorry about that. Mob got a lucky hit.”

“Let me help,” she murmured, her voice soft, hypnotic. “Relax, Scott. Just… breathe.”

Her fingers brushed his temples, her touch light as a feather as she whispered, “You’re tired. So tired. Just let go, Scott... Let me guide you.”

Scott’s eyelids drooped, his pupils dilated, his breathing slowed as he stared at her dazedly, “I… Pearl? What are you…?”

“Shh. Quiet now. Listen to my voice. Let it fill you, soothe you.” Her words dripped like honey, coating his mind in a warm, syrupy haze. “Close your eyes, Scott. That’s it. Now, just… follow my voice.”

Slowly, Scott’s head tilted back, his jaw slack, his body loose and pliable. “Good,” she purred, her lips almost touching his ear. “You’re mine now, Scott. My sweet boy, so loyal, so loving.”

A soft moan escaped his lips as his consciousness receded, leaving him open, vulnerable. “Yes, Scott,” Pearl breathed. “That’s it… Just like that… You’re doing so well.”

She took her time, savoring the power coursing through her. This was how it should be- him, pliant and eager; her, in control, desired. “You’ll crave my touch, Scott. Hunger for it. You’ll follow me anywhere, do anything I ask.”

As she wove her web of suggestion, her fingers traced the curve of his jaw, the pulse at his neck. Scott’s breath hitched, but he didn’t pull away, couldn’t, locked as he was in her trance.

“You’ll need me, Scott. More than food, more than water. Without me, you’ll wither away, lost and desperate.” Her voice was velvet, her gaze predatory. “And when I say… ‘Binkie’… you’ll fall to your knees and worship me.”

He was her puppet now, strings firmly in her grasp. She pulled back, a triumphant smile playing on her lips as Scott stirred, blinked, confused. “Wha… Pearl? Did I… fall asleep?”

“You passed out,” she cooed, “Must've been more injured than you thought. Come on, let’s get you patched up properly.”

As they walked, her hand possessively on his arm, a thrill of anticipation coursed through her. The game had begun, and soon, oh so soon, Scott would be hers completely. The thought made her smile.

Finally, she wouldn’t be alone.

In the days that followed, Pearl’s patience was a living thing, coiled tightly in her chest. She waited, watching for the moment, the perfect time to unfurl the trap she had set.

It came on a cold winter evening, when the sky was painted with hues of gold and crimson. Scott had just returned from tending to his ranch's crops, weary but triumphant, Pearl waited at his cottage, her smile warm, inviting. “Welcome back, Scott. I missed you.”

He glanced at her, displeased with her presence, but trying to be polite about it. “Pearl. Wasn’t expecting you.” He was still on his porch, the door open, as he took off his jacket and muddy shoes.

“You look tired,” she said, her voice tinged with concern. “You should come to my tower. Let me take care of you.”

"I'm fine on my own, actually, thanks." His hand was on the door, seconds away from closing (and probably locking) it, when...

“Binkie,” she whispered, her lips barely moving.

And just like that, the world shifted. Scott froze, his back stiffening, a shudder running through his frame. Slowly, he turned, his eyes unfocused, his breath coming in shallow gasps. “Pearl?” he whispered, his voice thick with longing.

“Yes, baby,” she purred. “It’s me.”

He moved towards her, his steps almost jerky, as if fighting against his own body. But Pearl knew better. He wasn’t fighting; he was eager, desperate for her touch.

“You’re mine,” she breathed, her fingers tangling in his hair. “All mine.”

“Y-yours,” he murmured, his lips brushing her neck, sending shivers down her spine. “Yours, Pearl... 'm all yours-” His hands were everywhere, pulling at her clothes, touching her skin with reverence, desperation.

“Tell me what you need,” she commanded, her voice husky with desire.

“You,” he gasped, his fingers fumbling with the clasp of her bra. "I need you to fuck me, Mommy, p-please, I need you in me-"

She cooed, her lips tracing his jaw. “Good thing I can help with that, hm?"

They stumbled backwards, their bodies entwined, until Pearl felt the wall against her back. Scott pressed against her, his mouth hot on her neck, his hands roaming, needy. "P-Pearl... oh, fuck, I need, I-I need to fuck you-"

A shiver ran through her at his words, at the raw hunger in his voice. “Yes,” she grinned, her fingers digging into his shoulders. “You do. And you’re going to worship me while you do it, aren’t you, Scotty?”

“Y-yes, Mommy,” he moaned, his hips grinding against hers. “I-I love you, so much, please, please, let me show you, mgh, please… please let me…”

His words dissolved into incoherent sounds as she pushed him away slightly, her hands working to free herself from the confines of her clothes. Scott watched, transfixed, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

When she was naked, she pushed him to his knees, her fingers threaded through his hair. “Show me how much you love me, starlight,” she whispered, guiding his mouth to her breast.

He suckled her eagerly, his tongue laving over her nipple, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. Pearl arched against him, her fingers tightening in his hair as pleasure coursed through her.

“Good boy,” she panted, her other hand cupping his cheek. “Such a good boy for Mommy. Such a good plaything. A good soulmate. A good slut.”

Scott moaned against her skin, his hips rutting against her leg, his need palpable. She felt his hands on her thighs, pushing them apart, his mouth trailing lower.

“Yes,” she gasped, her head falling back against the wall. “Yes, good, God…”

He didn’t need further encouragement. His tongue found her core, lapping at her wetness, sending jolts of pleasure through her body. Pearl cried out, her fingers tugging at his hair as she ground against his face.

“That’s it,” she moaned. “Right there, Scottsie. Oh, God, yes!”

Scott was relentless, his tongue and fingers working her towards the precipice. Pearl rode the waves of pleasure, her body taut with need.

“I’m so close,” she whimpered, her hips moving frantically against his mouth. “Make me come, baby. Make me come!”

He redoubled his efforts, his fingers pushing inside her, curling against that sweet spot as his tongue worked her clit. Pearl screamed, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. She shuddered against the wall, her legs trembling as Scott continued to lap at her, drawing out every last drop of pleasure.

When she finally stilled, she looked down at him, his face glistening with her juices, his eyes wild with desire. “Good boy,” she whispered, pulling him up by his hair. “Such a good boy..."

Scott whimpered, his body shaking with need. “Please… I’ll do anything… use me, fuck me, I'm your little slut, your baby, I need to be filled, I need you, please, I need you in me, now-"

“Don't worry, baby,” Pearl purred, bending him over. “Mommy’s going to give you exactly what you need.”

Scott moaned, pushing back against her hand as she teased his entrance.

“Please,” he whimpered. “More, M-mommy, please…”

She obliged, pushing one finger inside him, then another, stretching him, preparing him. Scott writhed against her, his hips bucking as he sought more.

“Greedy boy,” Pearl chided, her free hand smacking his ass. “Mommy likes how eager you are for her~"

Scott moaned at the praise, his body shivering with anticipation. Pearl removed her fingers, positioning herself behind him. She rubbed the head of her cock against his entrance, teasing him, making him beg for it.

“Come for Mommy,” Pearl growled, her own release crashing over her at the sight alone. “Come now."

Scott didn’t need any more encouragement. With a strangled cry, he came, his seed shooting out, his body convulsing with pleasure. Pearl rode out her own orgasm, her hips jerking as she filled Scott with her cum.

They collapsed together, their breathing ragged, their bodies slick with sweat and cum. Pearl wrapped her arms around Scott, pulling him close.

“Good boy,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You did so well, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

Scott mumbled something indechiperable, his body limp in her arms. Pearl smiled, a sense of satisfaction washing over her. She had done it. She had claimed Scott as her own, bound him to her in the most intimate way possible. No longer was she alone. She had her soulmate, her plaything, her baby.

And nothing would ever take that away. Not even Scott himself.

The first time Pearl used the hypnosis, it was a heady rush, a power unlike anything she had ever known. But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, it became routine, almost mundane.

She’d say the word, and Scott would fall into her arms, eager to please, desperate for her approval. It was intoxicating at first, but the novelty began to wear off, replaced by a gnawing dissatisfaction. She wanted more than just mindless obedience; she wanted Scott to choose her, to love her of his own free will.

She wanted him to crave her, to need her without the crutch of her commands. And so, she began to experiment, pushing the boundaries of what she could do, what she could make Scott feel.

She watched him, her gaze hungry as she traced a finger down his chest. “Do you love me, Scott?” she asked, her voice low, almost a purr.

“Yes, Pearl,” he murmured, his eyes glazed with adoration. “More than anything."

She smiled, but there was an edge to it, a frustration she couldn’t quite hide. “Do you mean it?” she pressed. 

“Of course!"

Pearl sighed, frustration blooming in her chest. “But what if you could choose?”

“Choose?” Scott repeated, his voice strained, confused. “I… I don’t want to choose. I just want you, Pearl. Only you. I need you. Just you. I love you-”

She sat up, pulling away from him. “-You don’t even know what love is, do you? You just do what I tell you, like a good little puppet.”

Scott reached for her, his eyes wide with fear. “P-Pearl, please,” he begged. “I love you. I do! I-I need you... please, please don’t leave me-”

“I’m not leaving,” Pearl bit out with a sigh, pushing him away. “But I need more, Scott. More than this… this shell of a relationship. I want you to love me for real."

Scott shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. “I do love you, Pearl! Please believe me, Pearlie... I-I love you more than anything!"

“But would you love me without the hypnosis?” Pearl demanded, her voice rising. “Without me controlling you?”

“I…” Scott’s voice broke, his eyes pleading. 

She stood up, glaring down at him. “You’re pathetic,” she spat. “A weak, useless little boy. No wonder I have to control you. You can’t even answer a simple question without me telling you what to say!”

“Mommy, please…” Scott whimpered, reaching for her, trying to satiate her by undoing her bra. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Please, let me make it up to you…”

“Shut up,” Pearl snapped, turning away from him and yanking herself back. She paced the room, her mind racing. This wasn’t working. She needed something more, something that would force Scott to face his true feelings.

And then, like a bolt of lightning, it struck her.

She spun back to face Scott, a cruel smile playing on her lips. “Scott, baby,” she crooned, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “I have an idea. Let’s play a game, shall we?”

She pushed him back onto the bed, her body covering his. Scott’s breath hitched as she kissed him, her tongue invading his mouth, her teeth nipping at his lips.

“Mommy,” he moaned against her mouth. “G-god, Pearl, I love you…”

“I know you do, Scott,” Pearl cooed, her hands roaming his body. “Now, let’s see how much.”

She took him then, her body moving against his in a rhythm as old as time itself. Scott arched beneath her, his fingers digging into her back as he met her thrust for thrust.

he gasped. “Oh, God, yes! please, please, I-I need you to ride my s-small cock, Mommy…”

Pearl rode him hard, her pleasure building with each thrust. But even as she neared her peak, frustration simmered beneath the surface. This wasn’t enough. She needed more. She needed to break him, to remake him in her image.

“Scott,” she panted, her voice husky. “I want to try something new. Something that will show me just how much you love me.”

Scott’s eyes fluttered open, his gaze clouded with lust. “Anything, Mommy,” he whispered. “A-anything for you- everything for you-"

“I know,” Pearl murmured, pressing a kiss to his chest. “And that’s why I know you’ll love this."

Scott nodded, his trust in her absolute. Pearl smiled, her heart pounding with anticipation. She pushed a finger inside him, watching as his body tensed, then relaxed.

Pearl stretched him slowly, watching his expressions, reveling in his responses.

“Does that feel good, baby?” she asked, her thumb circling his rim.

Scott moaned, his hips moving against her hand. “Y-yes, yes! Yes, Mommy,” he breathed. “S-so... so good…”

“Good,” Pearl purred. “Because now, it’s going to get even better.”

She moved her mouth to his ear, and whispered, "Binkie."

Scott’s eyes snapped open, confusion and fear etched on his face. “Wha… what’s going on?” he stammered, his gaze darting around the room. “Why… why am I naked?”

“You’re naked because we’re about to make love, silly,” Pearl purred, trailing a finger down his chest.

Scott’s eyes widened in horror before he began struggling against her. “Get off me! What the fuck is going on?”

Pearl’s smile never faltered. “But baby,” she cooed. “You love me. Don’t you remember?”

“No?!” Scott shouted, pushing at her. “I do not love you! Get off me!”

“But you do,” Pearl insisted, her grip on him tightening. “You’ve told me so many times. You want me, need me. Don’t fight it, Scott."

“N-no-” Scott screamed, his fear and confusion palpable. “This isn’t… this isn’t real, this can't be real-"

“Oh, but it is,” Pearl murmured, her lips brushing against his ear. “And soon, you’ll remember. You’ll remember how much you love me, how much you need me.”

Scott’s struggles grew more frantic, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Pearl watched him, her smile never wavering.

“Binkie,” she said.

And just like that, Scott’s struggles ceased. His body relaxed beneath hers, his eyes once again glazed with adoration.

“M-mommy-" he moaned, his hands reaching for her.

“There we go. Remember now?" Pearl purred, leaning down to kiss him. “After all, you love me so much, don’t you, baby?”

Scott nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes, Mommy. I-I love you so much. I need you, fuck me, please, God, fuck me, I need your pussy-"

Pearl smiled, a sense of triumph flooding her. This was it, the proof she needed. Scott loved her, wanted her, even without the hypnosis. He could've stopped her if he really wanted to, but he didn't. It was there, buried deep inside him, waiting to be coaxed out.

“Good boy,” she murmured, trailing kisses down his neck. “Such a good, loving boy. Now, let’s show me just how much you love me, hm?"

Scott had a horrible nightmare last night that he'd been getting raped by Pearl. It felt so real, so vivid, his backside even hurt in the morning as if he had been fucked, despite having not had sex in well over a year.

It was stupid to hold a grudge over a dream, to resent her for something Pearl hadn't even actually done, especially when she'd done plenty in real life to earn that resentment instead, and yet... the way Pearl started looking at him after that nightmare always made his skin crawl.

It didn't help that the nightmare started becoming reoccurring afterwards, too.

He could only hope the nightmare would stop once the game ended.

 It was earlier than expected when Scott began to rouse. The scotsman groaned, Tilly's incessant licking of his ear seemingly enough to make him begin to stir, eyelids opening.

 "Well well, looks like Sleeping Beauty finally decided to wake up!"

She watched intently as Scott slowly regained consciousness, leaning over him, her crimson eyes gleaming with a mix of malice and desperation in the reflection of his hazy irises as she traced a finger along his cheekbone. "I hope you enjoyed your little nap, princess... because I've come to wake you from your hundred-year sleep~!"

Scott's eyes were foggy, the weakness potion she'd manage to nab to borrow him clearly still muddling his thoughts, though his pupils pinpricked with an ounce of clarity as he registered her face. "P-Pearl...? What're... am I? Where..."

"Shhh, shhh," Pearl hushed him, pressing a finger to his lips. "Questions later, my love. We have more... pressing matters to attend to first. Do you know how the tale of Sleeping Beauty goes, Scotty? And, no - I'm not talking about that sterilized Disney slop. I'm talking about the real tale. " Her other hand trailed down his chest suggestively, and she licked her lips, eyes glinting with hunger. "Do you know how the prince woke up his darling princess? How your prince will wake you?"

"Your... you? You're not my- you're not my soulmate, not my... you're not my prince... certainly," Scott sneered feebily, trying to focus his eyes enough to manage a glare, however futilely.

"Maybe I wasn't always. No, once upon a time, you were the prince. I was the princess. A poor, hapless princess, waiting at her tower, waiting for her prince to come rescue her..." she hummed a flat note, sighing dolefully, "But he never did, did he? No, you never did. And, so, that princess realised something. If she wanted her Happily Ever After... she couldn't just wait around. She couldn't keep being a princess. If she wanted a Happily Ever After, she had to take it for herself, and princesses couldn't take things. So... She had to switch reverse the roles. Become the prince." She grinned, tilting her head, "And, so, that's what I've become! I'm your prince, darling, and I'm here to save, to wake you..." She trailed her finger down, stopping at the waistband of his pants, smirking.

He stared at her with addled disorientation before the implications of her actions seemed to hit him like a truck, making him flinch back as he scrambled to crawl away, though his groggy limbs and the bed's indistinct surface did him no favours, he was far too uncoordinated to get far. "W... what are y-? Stop."

"I can see you're still a bit sleepy, Scott, so I'll summarise," Pearl giggled grabbing his ankle and yanking him back towards her, her breath hot on his ear, "There was only one way to wake the princess. And it certainly wasn't with a kiss..." She crawled over him, pinning his wrists above his head as she straddled his hips. She whispered softly, giddily, "I'm going to have your baby, Scott."

Scott grimaced infirmly as he was dragged back underneath her, squirming woozily, though his weak flails halted the second the last words left her lips."My - my what?" It wasn't even a question. Just a horrified echo.

"Yes, your baby," Pearl confirmed, giggling. "And once you see how beautiful our child grows inside me, you'll never leave me again! You'll never abandon me like you did before. Because you may be cruel, Scott, cruel enough to abandon your own soulmate, your princess, but are you really cruel enough to abandon your own child?" Her voice dripped with venom, every word a whetted dagger to his heart, as she grinned. "I don't think you are."

"You're crazy," Pearl had heard those words fall from his lips so often she was practically desensitized to them. But, as he said them now, there was a particular horror they'd never quite held."You're-you're a pyschopath. You're really going to- you can't really be- you can't do this. You're not that crazy. You're not that crazy, Pearl." He repeated it like a prayer.

"Oh, but I can, and I will," Pearl snarled, ."I am that crazy, Scottie! You drove me to this. You made me this way when you abandoned me. You're making me do this. I really don't want to do this, Scott, we both know I don't... but you had to force this upon me, didn't you?" Her voice lowered to a whisper next to his ear, as she hissed, "I was supposed to be a princess. I was supposed to be the princess. You made me a witch. You made this. And, maybe! Maybe, I'm sick of being the witch! You're not even playing your role, so why can't I have it instead, hm?" She insisted, tightening her grip on his wrists.

"Let go of me. Let go of me!" Scott began to thrash with more of a frightened vigor, a rabbit caught in wolf's trap, the adrenaline surging his veins giving him more strength than she was suspecting as the drug began to wear off, and she struggled to keep him pinned down.

"Shh, shh! Now, Scott, that isn't very lady-like behaviour, is it?" Pearl scolded through gritted teeth. "Don't be such a baby. You princesses really are spoiled brats, aren't you? Don't worry. Your prince is coming soon... I just have to do one last act as the witch." 

She pushed herself off him, using the momentum from the push and the temporarily breathlessness it granted him to step back, swiftly twining their soulbound string around the spindle...

Of a spinning wheel.

"W-what are you-" Scott began to hiss before Pearl pressed her foot against the footman's pedal, the flyer rotating and winding their string, pulling it taunt as Scott let out a suprised yelp, their string's quickly-disappearing span forcing him to stumble forward, pulled by his finger... towards the spindle's needle.

"You see, shoving a weakness potion down your throat would be too difficult, and I don't want to dirty my room with a splash potion... so, I thought, wouldn't it be thematically appropriate if I simply doused a wee bit of it onto the tip of a needle? And, well... we're literally bound by a string of yarn, it would be easy enough to force you to prick your finger, wouldn't it?" Pearl grinned, watching as Scott's panic mounted as he pulled and tried to stagger away, only pressing her foot against the pedal harder as the pinkie finger their string was wrapped around was forced closer and closer to the needletip.

"Stop, stop- Pearl! Stop-" His voice hitched between a demand and a beg, finger inches away from the needle, the string running out of taunt before he finally pleaded, "-Please."

It was probably the first time she heard those words come from his lips.

She smiled.

She gave the footpedal a final push.

Scott choked as his fingertip pierced the needle, a phantom pinprick on Pearl's own skin as weakness potion began to course through Scott's veins, the drug filling his bloodstream.

His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he dropped like a stone, just in time for Pearl to swoop in and catch her fainting princess, arms around his waist and a smirk on her lips.

"Shh... don't try to fight it, my briar rose. Don't worry... I won't let you sleep for a hundred years," she whispered in his ears, carrying him bridal-style back towards the canopy bed, lowering him onto the mattress as she unclipped her cloak, revealing her naked form beneath, and reached to begun unbuttoning his pants.

Scott wasn't entirely unconscious, simply paralyzed, skirting between subconsciousness and consciousness, narcotized but still awake. She made sure she gave him just enough of a douse to render him vaguely conscious, but incapacitated and immobilized. His half-lidded eyes widened, and he mumbled something that sounded like a plea, but she just shushed him again.

"Shh, shh, now, princess. There's no need to fret. Just relax... You're safe with me. You're safe with your prince." She cooed, crawling on top of him.

As she rode him, his eyes remained stubbornly closed, and groans gurgled in the depths of his throat, muffled and stifled. She rolled her hips, a moan escaping Pearl's lips as she felt Scott's body beneath her, warm and hard. She leaned down, pressing her breasts against his chest as she captured his mouth in a searing kiss. Her tongue delved into his mouth, claiming him, tasting him, as she continued to move on top of him.

Scott couldn't help it; he moaned, the sound guttural and needy, his body's instincts more in possession of himself than his consciousness as the drugs addled his mind.

She swallowed his moans, continuing to rock against Scott, driven by a primal need, a desire to claim him, to make him hers. Her nails raked down his chest, leaving red trails in their wake as she broke the kiss to nip and suck at the sensitive skin of his neck before she wrapped her hands around his dick, gently massaging his length, kneading his member.

"Mmh~" Scott groaned audibly, eyes fluttering and rolling back as his cock bulged and began to unwillingly harden at her ministrations, twitching in pleasure underneath her touch.

"That's it, Scott," she purred, rubbing her thumb over the head of his cock, smearing the precum that had leaked out. "Let yourself go. Just enjoy this... You're mine, now." She positioned herself over him, his tip nudging at her entrance, and with one swift motion, she impaled herself on his length, like the needle had his finger.

Scott let out a gurgled gasp as he felt his length forced into her entrance, biting his lip to surpress the screamed moan that escaped him, whatever part of him was lingeringly conscious trying to deny hiss need to fill her up, to give her their child.

"Don't hold back, Scott," she breathed, muscles clenching around him as she began to ride him, bouncing on his cock with abandon. "Mmm, you feel so good inside me... Like you belong there. I want you to fill me with your seed, Scott. Knock me up. Make our baby happen, baby~!"

Scott whimpered, the sound frail and delirious as she felt his autonomy over his own body slipping away, drugs overriding his willpower and his body caving to its natural desires without a consciousness in control as cum began to fill her, the man under her writhing in pleasure with a moaned cry.

That's it, Scott... Fill me up... I'm going to make you fuck me over and over and over again until you've knocked me up..." she panted, grinding her hips against him, milking his cock for every last drop of cum. Once he was spent, she lifted herself off him, scooping up some of his cum that had leaked out and rubbed it into her stomach. "Perfect..."