#s.cottsmajor

“Pleaseeeeeee? All the other soulmates are doing it! They’re having so much fun!!!”

Pearl flashed Scott with her best puppy dog eyes, only second-best to Tilly's, who had taught her everything she'd need to know about how to flatten your ears to juuuuuust the right angle and tilt your head to juuuuuuuuust the right degree to make it impossible for anyone to tell you no.

Unfortunately, Scott had been telling her no for the past hour. 

“Pearl." The elf's voice was flat, his fingertips massaging his brow as if she was giving him a migraine, sighing strainedly, "I explained to you why we can’t a thousand times already…" She let out a piteous whimper as she tugged on the hem of his shirt, trying to channel both her best wet cat energy and stray dog begging for a treat energy at the same time, because, really, wasn't that what she was doing? She was just asking Scott to throw her a bone - a morsel! A nibble! A crumb, even- "you know what? Fine.”

"W-wait, really?" Her breath hitched, her tail already wagging a thousand miles per minute as she swallowed a glob in her throat, and, God, she hadn't even noticed she'd been salivating. 

“If it’ll get you to stop annoying me about it,” He answered irritably, pointed ear twitching in annoyance. “You can… I don’t know, hump my foot-“ He saw her expression brighten, and he sneered swiftly with a disgusted grimace, “-The shoe stays on. And - so do the socks, Pearl," he hissed, and she could swear he could read her mind through the soulbound, somehow.

"Y-yes, sir, understood!" She yipped, anyway, making no effort to hide the elation in her voice, though the case of happy tail syndrome she was about to develop would have made that difficult even if she had.

"Good," Scott glared at her through a half-lidded, reviling gaze before monotonously adding, "You have fifteen minutes. That's it. Go."

With a klutzy, choked gasp, Pearl immediately fell to her knees with an unceremonious thud, crawling to his feet and kissing the toe of his shoe with almost religious reverence, babbling "thank you"s and "you're the best"s, which only made Scott scoff with barely-disguised revulsion and insist she get on with it. 

She didn't waste a second getting on. She hugged his leg and began to hump rhythmically, whimpering and grunting like a dog in heat, crescent-tailed delight wafting off her in rank musk as she huffed and humped relentlessly. She grunted with each thrust, eyes widening in bliss as she rutted against the toe of his shoe, tears pricking her eyelids and drool beginning to drip down her chin, eyes rolling into the back of her head until phosphenes danced at the edges of her vision, flashing behind her eyelids like the beautiful starlets surrounding Scott's head.

It was hard to hear underneath the blood thrumming in her ears and the moan gurgling in the back of her throat, but she could swear, she heard Scott tsk and mumble something like, "pathetic..."

Her felt herself moan louder at that, his scathing words only making her more desperate; they made her hump harder, faster, with heedless abandon. Each push of her hips grinding against his shoe felt more blissful than the last, and she clenched her eyes shut, shuddering violently as she gasped out wordless pleas for him to say it again, to call her a mutt, a whore, a slut, a dog. Sweat dripped from her brow and her breath came in needy, laboured pants, her arousal beginning to soaking through her shorts, leaking onto the tongue of Scott's shoe, staining it with her want, her need.

Scott noticed. He flinched, his shoe jostling between her thighs, which only making her wetter before he pulled his foot out from her crotch and hissed, "Don't you dare get my shoe wet-"

Pearl whimpered Scott yanked his shoe away, the motion causing her slick to smear. She sobbed like a dog robbed of it's last meal as she chased after his foot, determined to get her fix of affection and humiliation, no matter how pathetic it made her look, begging, imploring, moaning, "Mh~ p-please- puhlease- I-I need- need to c-cum-"

"Well, don't do it on my frickin' shoe-?! Do it on the floor or something, I don't care!"

She whined like a dog left out in the rain, wet thighs quivering as Scott robbed her of her stimulation. She reached down to hastily undo her zipper with fumbling fingers, freeing her dripping cunt to the air. She spread her legs wide, pawing at her puffy cuntlips to expose her throbbing, aching clit. She began rubbing it in tight circles, humping the air as she fingered herself, keening needily. Her cum dripped down to puddle beneath her, soaking the floor like a guilty dog, but the entire time, she didn't dare take her eyes off Scott for a second, the sight of his sneering face the only thing getting her off, even if he refused to even glance at her. She squirmed and gasped as she emptied herself onto the stone floor with a cry, biting her lip to suppress the howl trying to erupt from her throat.

After she finished, she swallowed the hoarse gasps and pants writhing on her tongue, crawling back to the tip of Scott's shoe on her hands and knees like a drug addict begging for a fix, pleading, "I-I sti- I still have- five more minutes- f-five more mH~inutes- please-"

Scott was staring at her like she was the most revolting thing he'd ever had the displeasure of laying his eyes on, but fortunately for her, he'd always been a man of his word. With a disgruntled, disgusted grunt, he begrudgingly pushed his foot forward, keeping his glare glued to the wall as he agreed reluctantly, "Five minutes."

With a whorish warble of gratitude, Pearl immediately latched onto his shoe with uncaged desperation, hips bucking to grind her sopping cunt against it as she fucked herself on his shoe vamp shamelessly. Her orgasm made her clit swollen and aching, every thrust making her lightheaded with oxygen deprivation as her throat filled with needy moans, so much so she almost didn't hear it.

But she did.

A soft, strangled sound, stifled and smothered, but audible.

A moan.

And it hadn't been from her.

Pearl swallowed the moan on the tip of her own tongue, voice breathless and disbelieving and excited as she choked out, "S-Scott...? Did you... did you just-"

Once glance was all she needed to confirm that he did. There was an indisputable flush across his face, sweat glistening and strands stuck to his face, his fingertips' digging into his chair's armrests like a lifeline, a notable bulge outlined against his trousers pants and his breathing heavy.

"Nothing," he answered much too quickly, the cracked hitch in his voice betraying him as he swallowed, "I didn't do anything. Y-you're crazy."

Maybe she was crazy, but she wasn't crazy about this. She'd heard him. 

"You - you... you're - you're into this, a-aren't you?" She gawked, she giggled, incredulous titters mixed with as she grabbed onto Scott's knees and used them as momentum to push herself upwards, elbows rested on his lap as she poked at Scott's bulge with her fingertip with awe. The sound only coaxed another barely-stifled groan from him, and she gasped with glee, "I - I knew it!"

Scott smacked her hand away, pressing his thighs shut and rudely robbing her of her perch as he grunted, "S-stop that. I didn't - it's not because of you, I'm gay, idiot - I think - I didn't know soulmates shared pain and pleasure, it's your fault-"

"It is my fault..." She agreed slowly, voice lowering to a warbling whisper, recoiling her hand away like a kicked puppy before she grabbed Scott's knees with a newfound strength, pushing them apart until she could wedge herself between them, her head at the level of his waist, her eyes level with that growing bulge, "I-I did this to you - I made you hard - me, me, me-me-me - you like me! You - you... love me - you do love me - you're - you're hard for me... you're hard for ME!" She purred and giggled with ecstasy, reaching up to palm his erection through his trousers.

She felt Scott's fingernails digging into her shoulders, trying to push her away as if she was a disobedient dog who'd grown tired of waiting for scraps to drop underneath the dinner table and had decided to crawl onto the tabletop and lick the plates clean herself, but she didn't let him. She didn't allow him to. She was starving, she was ravenous, and she was done begging for what she deserved, leaning forward and beginning to mouth at the bulge, running her tongue along its length and laving it with attention, her tongue swirled around the shape of his erection through the fabric.

"P-Pe- mfh~ Pear-! Get your filthy - you're - you're disgusting, you pervert, you freak, you - stop- stop-" Scott gagged, but it was clear he didn't actually mean it, because if he didn't want this, why did he instantaneously devolve into a shameless moan as her tongue rubbed his clothed dick? 

"I-I knew you liked me, you still love me, you always have- this is proof-" She whispered with a reverent moan, drooling messily as she palmed Scott's throbbing cock eagerly, stroking him with desperate, graceless need, smearing idle streaks through the fabric as Scott continued to squirm and thrash, unaware that once a dog locked it's teeth onto a target it would never let go.

"Y-you were scared, you were scared, weren't you? That's why you left. You - you were scared because you like me, that - that you liked a girl... you didn't want to admit you liked a girl, did you? It's okay, Scott, it's okay - it's hard to admit when we're - when we're wrong, isn't it? That it really was just a matter of finding the right girl - it's me! I'm the right girl, Scott, I was the right girl, I am the right girl, don't you see, it was always me-" She rasped between licks, slurring sloppily, a groan gurgling in the back of her mouth. Above her, she heard a choked-up sound come from Scott, and, wow, was he really already so turned on he was sobbing with ecstasy? He was weak for her, utterly infatuated...

"I-I hate you," Scott retched through sob-filled moans, an obvious lie, as his body was telling quite a different story, wasn't it? "You witch - you - you bitch - I hate you - I hate this - IhateyouIhateyouIhateyou-"

"I love you, too," Pearl agreed softly, mouthing at the bulge in Scott's pants with a wet, saliva-filled kiss. She licked a long, slow stripe up the length of him, savouring the taste of his arousal through the fabric. "You're being so good for me, such a good boy, you're being perfect," she cooed praisingly, every hitch in his breath and quiver in his thighs making her inner walls clench with unquantifiable need, even as he convulsed and cried, "S-stop. Stop. Stop, stop, stop, stop-" like a broken recordplayer, but she didn't. She didn't, because,

"You promised me fifteen minutes, remember? And I still have three more~"

Pearl knew Scott took his word very seriously; it wasn't something he handed around willy-nilly! He prided himself on his honesty, his ability to uphold his end of the bargain, his trustworthiness and honourability. Pearl couldn't just allow him to forsake something he held so dear like that by letting him wriggle away, he wasn't thinking straight (or, well, he was, actually, for the first time in his life, but still!), so she wouldn't let him dishonour himself like that while in such a state of mindless hysteria. He'd thank her for holding him down and making him uphold his end of the deal later; she was doing a favour for his honour.

That didn't stop him from being a baby about it afterwards, though. Whining about how that wasn't what they'd agreed to, how she was a monster, how she'd raped him.

How had she raped him? She hadn't touched him! There'd been no to-skin contact, she hadn't even taken his clothes off, his crotch had been clothed the entire time, she hadn't even unzipped his fly.

Besides! Even if it had been, she'd had his explicit consent, he told her he could. He said she had fifteen minutes to do whatever she needed to satisfy herself as long as his shoe stayed on.

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.