Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Qualityâ Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Got so used to seeing â*Character* X Fem!readerâ (or fics with heavily implied Fem reader) that when I saw one just now that said âwritten with a male reader in mindâ in the description I gen had to hit this pose and take a minute
Genuinely saw a glimpse of heaven when I read that
with an orc king in town, you're fetched to be his toy for the evening. a rough, animalistic evening ensues when the king really uses you like a toy to break.
warnings: 5.5k words // nsfw - orc!king x masc!human!reader // reader is a sex worker, giant size difference, dom!orc, spitting on reader/spit as lube, slight degradation depending on how you look at it, bondage, rope gag, blindfold, rough spanking, pain & pleasure mix, rough anal fingering, mockery & a dash of humiliation, reader referred to just as "human" and puny/small, nipple stim, nipple clamps w/bells, big focus on the size difference/being full, rim job, jerking off, oral (cock and anal), anal sex, rough anal sex, multiple orgasms, orgasm torture, "making a mess", cockwarming, overstim, reader is used like an object/sex toy, forced orgasms, somnophilia, lots of cum and spit, cum play, masturbation, no aftercare
a/n: just some masc!reader & orc filth <3
Youâre his plaything for the night.
The message is sent in secrecy as if it would be some scandal that a king desires some cock to play with for the night. Itâs not entirely a surprise when you receive the royal letterhead delivered by a very stoic, brute of a guard. When word came through the town that the king was passing through, you knew heâd be plucking someone up from your brothel. You just didnât think you would be the one sent. Of all those offered, you figured heâd pick someone moreâŚsize appropriate. But apparently, the orc wished to play with a human like you were a toy he might break.
It wouldnât be your first orc, but the burn of curiosity was low in your stomach when you climbed into the back of the unmarked carriage. No time to prep. No time to change. Only your typical to-go bag beside you with fun, games, and lube. The guard whoâd delivered the message stared you down, unphased and almost with someâŚscrutiny? You wonderâjust for a teasing secondâto ask if he needs to test the goods before youâre delivered like a thing. But knowing the average ord guardâs impatience with that sort of bullshitâand the minute possibility that he could agree and fuck you sideways even before you reach his kingâyou keep your mouth shut beyond a smile.Â
You take to riding in the silence thatâs expected of you. Nothing new there. Youâre used to it.Â
When you arrive, youâre at the finest inn in town. Not unexpected at all, and certainly not the first time youâve served a customer there. But it is the first time youâre brought in through the back entrance, up through the servants corridors, and to the very tippy-top suite that overlooks the rest of the town. Not a soul surrounding the room to hear the sin about to unfold. What debauchery will he ask of you? The guard gives you so little to work with beyond the brutal, threatening glare that joins the words you know before he even speaks.
âIf word of this leaves the inn, you will not live to see another sunrise.â
Yes, yes. You know. You cross your heart and give him a plain nod. Though your heart is beating like it is trying to break out of your chest, you walk into the room casually. Itâs what they expect. A toy. A thing. An ease you have to find in breaking the awkward tension that always overtakes the rooms when you arrive. Sometimes, itâs shyness. Theyâre new to this and feel an overwhelming embarrassment that theyâve called upon someone to please them for the night. Sometimes, itâs a vicious shame. Youâre not sure if thatâs what you should expect; itâs notable that the orcish king hasnât taken a wife, but itâs far from anything horrid if he were to have a man as his partner, lover, or even spouse. Still, you enter the grand room with casual strides, your bag dangling from your fingertips.
Will he fuck you? Does he want you to fuck him? Try and fit his cock in your mouth? Bind you? Hit you? Spank you? Deny you? Piss on you?Â
The door clicks shut and you look upon the king seated back on a large dark brown couch. His forest green skin stands out against that and the white shirt he wears with his brown trousers. The front hangs open to reveal the rough hair poking out from his chest. His hand holds a giant mug already half empty of what you can make out to be some sort of bitter ale. Heâs already erect, pitching a big tent in his trousers for you to see. Really see. He parts his knees further by your next step.
âYour Majesty,â you coo, ignoring how your heart pounds and pounds; as hard as heâs surely to pound into you before the night is over. Given his position, you walk close enough only to situate yourself between his knees. He smells like the forest and a bit of musky mud. He glistens as if he bathed before you arrived. Rich brown eyes look at you with a boredom that sends a shiver down your spine. âWhat can I do for you this evening?â
That boredom is the look of someone who is hardly new at this. No shyness. No shame. He brings the brim of his mug to his mouth and swallows down a large gulp. His thick fingers spell a hearty stretch awaiting you if he fingers you. Itâll be a lot to take if he does, and itâll be much, much more if he gives you more than one. But at least his nails are trimmed low and he lacks any rings. You swallow back a shake in your voice and keep your smile seductive.
Patiently seductive.
âWhat is in your bag, human?â he states with a grunt, dropping his eyes to your small bag.Â
âOh, well.â Normally, you would step to the customers and show them on their lap or close next to him. But with royalty, you must take more precautions. So you kneel, instead, which lends itself to a fun look with you between his knees anyhow. And you carefully pull the contents out one by one. âA change of clothes should you desire to shred what I currently wear. Rope if you wish to bind me and you do not have any. A blindfold that can fit either of us. A ring I can wear around my cock if you wish for me to wear it. Clamps to put on my nipples with bells so you can hear every time you make me squirm. And, of course, extra lube.âÂ
You give him a sultry smile, angling yourself in such a manner to look like a snack waiting to be eaten. A little arch of your back and a half-lidded look to join your smile.Â
âWould you like me to use any of it now, Your Majesty?â You search those dark eyes carefully. Flirtily, but carefully. âDo you want to talk about what you want to do to me? Or what you want me to do to you?â
Another big gulp of his ale makes his throat move. His cock visibly twitches in his pants, and you feel that molten feeling in your gut. Heâs going to fuck you, and heâs going to do his damnedest to fit that inside of you. Once you arrived at work, you took the tonic to ensure any customer could make you cum repeatedly, however they wished. Itâs the first thing any man working takes once they essentially clock in. And while it can go either way, you sit glad you took as much of it as you did. If he puts that inside of you, you worry you might cum from the insertion alone.
âThe rope, the clamps, the lube, and the blindfold,â he breathes, nodding down at you. âStrip, take them, and then lay over my lap.â He sets the mug down on a table just beside the couch. Itâs empty. âI was assured there are few limits the brothelâs workers have. Is that true?â
Any other customer, and you mightâve reiterated some of your limits for the sake of it. But given that heâs a kingâŚ.
You already start the show, tugging your shirt off over your head slowly. He watches. Not quite as bored as before, but heâs subtle in his interest. Thereâs merely a glint in his eyes.Â
âI am here to please you, Your Majesty. You may use me as you see fit,â you hummed, rolling onto your knees to face away, and gradually lowering your trousers. Down over the curve of your ass, and angling yourself so you can arch your back. As you bare yourself, you hear his breath hitch. It does so again once your bottoms and shoes slip off, and you roll onto your bottom on the cold floor. Itâs not hard to get erect; hell, you like what you do, and the interest creeping in regarding what he could have in store for you makes your balls tighten. âSo use me.â
His nostrils flare on his next breath. His eyes hone in on your cock. Good.
You pluck up what he asked, and languidly crawl up the couch. He only moves his hands so you can set them next to him before laying over him as best as you can. The size difference is enough to remind you just how puny you are in comparison. One of his thighs is practically the size of you. You have to situate yourself at a semi awkward angle to keep yourself balanced right. But it works, and the rough material of his trousers rub against your cock and your nipples as you lay down.
You feel his quick breaths against his stomach. The pressure of his cock against your stomach. The warmth of a large hand splayed over your ass with just the warning of clothing rustling and the faint movement.Â
Itâs rough at the palmâexpectly. And he groans under his next breath when he kneads your ass. Big fingers grope andâsmack. You lurch forward with a shout you turn into a moan, hanging your head and letting out come out extra sensually. Again. He pushes down on your lower back and spanks you again.
A third time.
It burns. But your cock thrums in excitement. Heâs holding back his strengthâthat much is painfully evident.Â
âLift your head,â is his first command. You do as he says, and up comes the blindfold first. He ties it tight around your eyes with a knot youâre not sure you could undo yourself. âPush up onto your hands, human.â You do that, too, pushing your hands into the thick muscle of his thigh. âOpen your mouth.âÂ
Open yourâŚmouth? Yet, you do it. And you feel the rope come up. Itâs thick and rough, and it slides between your teeth. Oh, shit. He pulls it back and you bite down; he ties it, youâre sure, before it drapes over your back.Â
The bell on the end of one clamp rings.
The rough pad of a finger brushes over one taut nipple, and you push your shoulderblades back. So heâs going to use you, then? How very kingly. He pinches it softly, first, and your back arches genuinely. It stays as such when he adds more pressure, and pleasure turns to a pain that shoots right to your cock. You moan around the rope, and just as he releases it, he clamps it. It stings so sharply, but your cock still twitches. Leaks. Oh, fuck. He repeats exactly that with your other nipple.
âHands back.â
Oh, fuck. Fuck. You comply. Rearrange yourself how he wants, pressing your shoulders back and keeping your chest slightly up from his thigh. It keeps the bells up, too. He uses the slack of the rope to bind your wrists tightly together. The pattern of the twisted rope is going to be left in your wrists, but itâs hard to focus on that when the bondage keeps your chin up and back, gag in your mouth, and body manipulated in a permanent arch of sorts.
Itâ
Spank. You lurch on his lap as more strength barrels into the strike. Pain ripples out into pleasure. The bells ring, and your eyes flutter shut. Oh, fuck, heâs kinky. You moan sincerely, hardly needing to play it up. The last orc you were with spanked you whilst holding your cock, so every strike had you fucking his fist without you having to move your hips yourself. It was one of the more humiliating ways heâd made you cum, and you still thought about it when you jerked off.Â
This brings you right back to that for a second.
His Majesty pulls you right out of it. Immediately.
He reaches around you and spreads you, humming lazily. You feel yourself contract and not just for show. His heartbeat quickens, but itâs far steadier than you wouldâve guessed. You feel it thumping against you considerably slower than yours will be even when the night ends. So this is way further than his first time. He has a routine, maybe? A favorite set he likes to enact?
Your nipples ache under the clamps.Â
He leans forward andâfuck. You hear the spat before his spit hits your asshole. Thick and wet, and heâs wasting no time. The giant end of one finger rubbing it in over your asshole. Slow, rough strokes that hit every sensitive nerve ending you have there, and you want you lean forward to moan into his thigh, the couch, maybe a pillow if you had one there. But youâre stuck moaning into the rope with your head pulled back.Â
âLook at how your puny asshole flutters from just this,â he mutters. âYou enjoy your job then.â
You donât answer him with muffled words. Just another moan when he adds more pressure, stretching you just a tad around the very tip of his finger. Itâs a lot. His spit is more than enough, butâsweet fuckâyou burn at the stretch, yet still, you angle your hips back.
âLet me see your cock,â he orders, and you have no idea how youâre supposed to move and show him. But you do not need to. He reaches around and grabs you. Hoists you onto your side, your hands pressing into his stomach, body arched and angled around him. The bells jingle. Your cock is harder than stone and throbs. He hooks his arm between your legs, forcing them to stay open. He brushes his knuckles over your balls, and you twitch. âYou look as if you are ready to cum.âÂ
He runs a finger over your cock. From your balls up to the sensitive tip.Â
Fuck. The bells jingle.
You hear him spit again, and you find out where when he touches you again. His fingers closing around your length in a tight enough hold to make you whine. Youâre practically nothing in his fistâand such size differences have made you worried before out of fear they forget how fragile you are in comparisonâbut he holds you just right. The curve of his fingers, his spit as just enough lube, the right strength making your hips want to buck. He pumps your cock a few times, and pleasure spatters itself behind your eyes.
You writhe. The bells are loud on your aching nipples.
âDonât,â he states, gradually slowing the movements down to painfully slow strokes. Strokes that eventually just stop, and youâre throbbing, twitching in his unmoving fist. He presses his thumb against your tip, and you shiver. âNot yet.â
He shifts his other arm. Fingers brush over your nipples. Fuck, fuck. You squirm. The movement fucks into his fist on accident, and you fight it as much as you can. But he flicks a nipple, and it rears a pain-pleasure mix down to your aching balls.
âFuck,â you shout behind the rope.
He scoffs, and your cockâs released.
Youâre close. Too close if he really doesnât want you to cum yet. Too close for how his hands change where they sit. Too, too, too close where he slides his hand up your legs and rubs a newly wet finger against your asshole. But you canât tell him youâre too close. You canât even squirm away. You just writhe on his lap as a light pressure becomes a firm pressure. A little rub of his finger over your asshole becomes a stretch. And with white-hot pleasure burning behind your eyes like the burn in your asshole, you stretch around him. His pointer finger pressing in, and in, and further in. Gradually. Another glob of spit acting as more lube as you fill up to the brim with him. Holy fuck. His fingerâs huge, and his knuckle touches your ass while his finger stuffs you. Wiggles. You canât breathe with it brushes perfectlyâcruely, reallyâagainst your prostate.
You thrash. Your cock and balls pulseâor maybe thatâs just the ripples of involuntary pleasure taking you in a chokeholdâand you shout behind the rope.Â
âTight,â he grunts, pulling his finger out a little before thrusting it back in. It slams against your prostate. Despite the darkness behind the blindfold, you see stars. Youâre there. Youâre already there. Shuddering as pleasure rips up to the peak. One languid thrust becomes another. And another. Faster. He spits again, making sure heâs easily fingering you and downright torturing you. âAre you going to cum like this, human? Make a mess from one finger?â
One gigantic fucking finger.
The bells ring fast and loud. Your whines are painfully sincere as your thoughts spin around you. Fuck, fuck. Fuck! Your hips buck and you have only the air to hump.Â
He flicks a nipple again. Then the other.
The sounds you make are akin to just mmnnnmmhmhhgggnnnn. Itâs wanton and crude; cruel and torturous. You press your head back harder, the hard shake of ecstasy taking over. His finger pushes back in and stays inside of you, curling, wiggling, stretching you out and nudging your prostate with every movement.Â
You wouldâve nodded to his previous question if you could. But it pushes you over. That does. That last little writhe of his finger. Your balls feel like they want to burst, and pleasure throbs. Nothing touches your cock except his whims making the air thick and heavy, and you hump nothing. Fuck yourself on his finger as much as rocking your hips will allow. Like heâs turned you into the degenerate with some simple teasing.Â
Your vision goes white. Then, dark. Then, white again. And with stars in your eyes, a sheen of sweat becoming drops down along yourself, you snap. Your hips jerk, your body jolts as he fingers you a tad harder, a tad faster, throwing you right at the orgasms that teased itself so youâd be sure and fall into it. Everything blanks out except his finger raking pleasure out of you. Making you scream behind the rope whilst shuddering, squeezing his finger with hard contractions, milking what will soon be his cockâyouâre sureâand cum. Spilling onto what has to be his thigh and maybe the couch, a little, with toe-curling, hard spurts you wish you could see.Â
Holy.
Fuck.
Your back arches and your hips angle back as his finger still thrusts into you. It only does so a few times before youâre gaping. Empty. Squeezing nothing. Gasping around the rope and thenâshove. The clamps press almost painfully against your nipples where you meet the couch. You go far. Far enough that youâre almost smothered on a side pillow at the other end. You want to say something, but hands find your thighs and pry them open; they bring your knees back and prop you up to have your ass on display.
Youâre still catching your breath when you feel his. Right against you. Against your ass. The couch moves behind you and big hands spread you wide. A shiver shoots down to your already hardening cock when he blows on your asshole. The shiver expands into a full shudder when he leans forward. Light stubble on his jaw rubs up against your ass, but thatâs hardly where you take notice when his tongue lolls out.Â
Another hnnnnggg of a sound falls out of you when he rolls it against you.
Another louder, rougher, groan of a hnnnngggggg forces out when he reaches around you and grabs your messy cock.Â
Youâre nothing but a writhing, moaning mess when he pumps you and presses his tongue into you. Licks down over your balls and sucks on them. Laps back up to your asshole to lick, prod, and fuck with his tongue. You clench around him when he presses into you, and you feel it already. There. His hand wet with spit and your cum as he pumps your cock languidly. Like heâs trying to mock you with the orgasm already there.Â
He does. He does so with a grunting laugh against you, jerking you off faster. Making you cum. You try to at least pretend you can stall it, but heâs forcing you there. And his shoulders stop you from kicking a leg back when you seize up, climaxing again. Hard. Almost painfully while you spill over and into his hand. Where he doesnât stop. Not there, not with his tongue. Working every drop out of you while tears well up and you fall to pieces.
He spanks you when he releases you. Wet from his spit and your cum, and the sharp slap rings out loudly. Again. And again. Until your knees buckle and youâre laying flat on the couch, ass stinging under his groping hands.
He spreads you again. His thumbs rub over your asshole before mimicking the same spreading motion.Â
âYou are so sensitive and so puny,â he retorts before spitting onto you. Into you, youâre pretty damn certain. âCan you even take two of my fingers?â
The answer is proven yes. He holds your hips back, working two fingers into your asshole. He rumbles with satisfaction, pumping them faster. Faster. Faster, still, until youâre shaking. Orgasming, again. Spilling onto the couch with no fist to fuck.Â
And threeâyou test three. He sits behind you with a drizzle of your lube over yourself and his fingers, finally, which gives him the chance to really wreck you. Once youâre able to take three of his gargantuan fingersâfeeling like they might break youâhe fingers you roughly. Laughing when your back arches and you try to move away. Itâs too much. Itâs so fucking much. But he hauls you back and coos at you.
âSee?â he says with you thrash, spilling in a blinding orgasm over his fist. âLook how you like it.â
You move again after that. When you think he might fuck you on the couch, he keeps his fingers inside of you and carries you elsewhere. The bed, you find, when a large expanse of softness appears under your stomach. The soft blankets press against your back, and he notably keeps himself situated off the bed with his fingers in your ass. And they stay there as he moves you until youâre right where he wants you. You only find out where when you smell his musk again. When the rope is untied and dropped from your mouth.
âLick and suck,â he demands.
And you feel his balls at your mouth. Lick and suck. You stick your tongue out and do as youâre told. Dragging your tongue over the sensitive skin and listening to his breath start to hitch. His fingers move inside of you occasionally, but youâre most cockwarming them while you hungrily move to taste him.
Licking. Kissing. His other hand moves for his cock comes to your mouth. His fingers leave your asshole, and you feel fingers moving your chin and keeping your mouth open. Heâs huge. Leaking steadily and considerably massive at your mouth. Your jaw already hurts as you open up for him, licking his tip while your head presses into the bed. Yes, yes. You hum, taking his tip into your mouth. Itâs just about all you can fit, and you do your damn best to do so. He thrusts for you given the position. You just wrap your hands around his cock and moan around him while he lazily fucks your mouth. His balls smack your face with every thrust.Â
âToo,â he grunts, âfucking small.â
He flicks a nipple and the bell rings. Pleasure and pain intermingle.
âRoll over and show me your ass.â
Again, you listen and follow your order. You prop yourself up to be on perfect display. Even as adrenaline and nerves sink in your belly. Will he fit? You get your answer soon after the bed dips behind you. The fat head of his cock presses against your asshole without hesitation, and heâs bruising your hips when he pushes in. Oh, sweet motherfucker. Heâs going to break you, youâre sure. How you stretch around him, how he fills you, how heâs already torturing your prostate and heâs not even fully inside of you.
Heâs going to break you. Milk you. Milk himself on you, and ruin you in the process.
His groan erupts in the room. It bounces around and vibrates the air and yourself. More. More. More. He goes until you canât breathe, and his balls press against you.
âFucking tight,â he groans. A spank sends a shockwave through you. From the strike at your ass, up to your head, down to your already-curling toes. âI am going to fuck your tight asshole, human, and then you will bring your tongue to mine until I declare otherwise. Then, you will fuck me, and we will see if your puny cock can even do anything to me. After that, you will spend the rest of the night seated on my cock. While I feast, while I drink, while I sleepâyou will stay upon me. I will milk you of every drop of cum you have, and you will take as much of mine as you can in such a short night. Now, we will begin.â
The darkness of the blindfold blurs over when his hips move.
He is not shy about pounding into you, and your moan screams out across the room.
Heâs sincere in his words. He pins you to the mattress with a hand on the back of your head and neck, fucking you at a pace that gradually becomes relentless. Pleasure blurs into a blinding daze. And you cum. And cum. And cum three times to the wet sounds of his balls slapping against you and his hand occasionally reaching around to jerk you off. Youâre in a mess of your own cum when he finally slams into you and spills inside of you in fucking heaps. Youâre thoroughly ruined before then, and he ruins you more by fucking it into you, spanking you in between thrusts, and scoffing when you seize around him and cum again.
You still wear the blindfold when he pulls out of you. You still wear it when he spreads himself in front of you, bringing you to your knees, your hands finding his ass. He holds the back of your head and practically smothers you. Your tongue darting out to taste him, lick him, prod at his fluttering asshole. And his hand on his cock is wet while he jerks himself off lazily. His hips pressing back when you dare to move to take a breath. Itâs overwhelming, but youâre in a blinding daze of blistering heat. Holding him open and lapping at his asshole until you feel him shudder and tense. Until heâs groaning, climaxing, locking you against his asshole until he shoves you back.
Youâre allowed to take the blindfold off then to fuck him. Heâs big, green, hairy, and thick with muscles. He spreads himself, angling his hips back and barking at you to fuck him before you even reorientate yourself in the room that feels too bright even with just a lantern on. And youâre lubing yourself up on autopilot, bringing your too-sensitive cock up to him and pressing in. Fuck, heâs tight. Tighter than you wouldâve thought, and he moans as you slide into him easily.
You cum in him despite your best efforts not to, but he feels so fucking good. Youâre not even sure you can do that. He mightâve thrown you out of the room or done something worse for it, but as you pound into him, his asshole fluttering around you, milking you of what youâre pretty sure is the last that you have, you grunt. Desperately. Shout internally at yourself to hold it, make him cum first, or at least pull out. But itâs just so sudden. Youâre there. Just there. Falling over him with a grunting fuck, no, Iâm sorâ before you cum inside of him.
Two miracles in oneâhe cums as you do and thatâs all he does. Spilling in thick spurts onto the bed, youâre thrown just beside it once heâs done. Youâre still twitching from yours, worn to the brim of exhaustion, looking up at the dark eyes raking over you. And all he does is pull off the nipple clamps before bringing his mouth down to them. Theyâre so sensitive and sore, youâre pretty sure this is your punishment for climaxing inside of the king. You donât mean to hump his chest, but you canât help it. He laps at your nipples and tweaks them incessantly.Â
It blurs together. That. Getting moved. Being hauled over to the couch shortly after. Being seated on his cock again, yet he doesnât thrust or jerk you off. He merely nestles himself in there when thereâs a knock on the door, and an unphased guard brings a big tray in. A true feast. One the king eats in patient bites while you fall back against him. He brings the occasional bite to your lips, and forces your mouth open so you eat. He does the same with his ale, the bitter flavor falling down your throat and burning hot in your belly.Â
Again. And again. Until youâre full and drunk, heaving breaths back against his upper half, cock twitching anew while his nudges inside of you.
He makes you cum again before he hauls you between the sheets. He stays inside of you when you fall asleep. Itâs less involuntary and more just sheer exhaustion taking hold and dragging you into a fully-stuffed sleep.Â
You wake to the sun creeping in, emptyâŚish.
Cum leaks out of you. Bruises line along you in spots you donât lift the covers to check yet. Youâre too achy to move and youâre too immediately aware of the wet spots around you. Cum has stickied your thighs, the bed sheets, and in front of you on the bed, the blankets, and your stomach. An amount thatâs certainly more than just a little. So he fucked you whilst you slept, then, and you didnât even stir awake. Not once.
You glance up as the king sets a mug of water on your table and drops a satisfied grin to you.
âYou cum silently when you sleep, if you did not know. Even on the sixth one.â He pulls something out of his pocket. A wad of cash. A big wad of cash. He sets all of it down except for a fraction of it. That he holds up between you. âMove the blankets.â
With a shaky hand, you lift the disgusting sheets. You see the mess of the night around you, and fight the heat crawling along your entire body.Â
âLift your top leg.â He taps your leg with the bills. Youâaching and throbbinglyâlift it back. A kick in your pulse already knows where heâs going with this. âStuff it back in.â
You do it, reaching down and gently pushing his cum back into yourself. Sore, but, goddamn it. The way he watches you, your cock twitches. He notices. He scoffs, and nods.
âHarder,â he orders. âFaster.âÂ
Fuck yourself is the real order. And you comply, keeping eye contact as you do so, thrusting your fingers roughly into your aching asshole and hitting your prostate without the mercy it deserves after a night like that. But your toes are curling and youâŚ. Fuck,
You donât wait for the order. He doesnât refuse you when you reach for your cock. He just smiles like a king does when someone bends to his will. Especially like this. A show. A show that has you spilling over your fist with a grunt, fluttering around your fingers, and falling a little forward. It almost hurts with how good it feels.
He drops the last of the cash onto the table.
âI will be coming back through here in a fortnight.â He walks away unceremoniously. âYou will tend to me again then.â
âOf course, Your Majesty,â you rasp.
âGood human.âÂ
He hauls the door open and steps out to meet his guards.
The door shuts with a click, and you reach out to chug water and hug the money close to yourself. Itâs not just payment, but tip. A huge tip. Heâs a generous king, at that. And you hold it close as sleep overtakes you again.
They can wake you when they come to clean the room. It wonât be the first time theyâve done that. And as sleep takes you in a dragging, drowning grasp. Itâs the only option.
Headcanons about Heisenberg being a gross old man and indulging in scent and marking kinks.Â
(I think Heisenberg should have some werewolf/lycan traits. So these kinks do play into that.)
Pairings:Â
Karl Heisenberg x Masc!Reader
Warnings:Â
Sexually explicit (obviously), scent kink, marking kink, biting (hard enough to leave scars), stealing clothing to jerk off with, sexualization of sweat/body odor, obsessive behaviorsÂ
The reader is written as transmasc. I'm not overly descriptive, but the reader is referred to in masculine and neutral terms.Â
Wordcount:Â
1453
âŚÂ
Heisenberg is extremely possessive and will go great lengths to claim you. He wants to make it clear that you are his and his alone.Â
It starts small and relatively tame. Keeping tabs on you, but rarely directly interfering. Lingering in the background to make his presence known. Few would dare to cross one of the four lords after all, his very existence is often enough.Â
Sporadically, heâll come up behind you and pull you against his chest. One hand firmly planted on your hip, while the other grabs your jaw to tilt your head and allow easy access to your neck.Â
Heâs rough, fingertips leaving a lasting impression while he clumsily covers your neck in hickeys. Affection is still foreign to him.Â
The assortment of bruises only serves as proof of how badly he wants to love you, even if he doesnât know how at first. Not unlike a rescue dog still learning how to be gentle.Â
But as time passes, he grows bolder. Biting hard enough to leave permanent marks, preferably in places everyone can see. His favorite âlove bite,â as he calls it, is the perfect impression of his fangs encircling your bicep.Â
Heisenberg had roughly pinned you against a wall, calloused hand wrapped around your throat. Not enough pressure to choke you, but enough to get the point across. You were not allowed to escape. You had no choice but to submit to his whims.Â
Something had upset him. Maybe you strayed too far from him for too long. Maybe one of the other lords tried to take you from him. The exact details didnât matter; he was beyond reason. The fear of losing you quickly transformed into fury. Any rational thought was entirely overtaken by instinct.Â
He snapped forward, catching your arm in his mouth, and he clamped down without hesitation. His sharp, wolf-like fangs pierced your skin with ease. It hurt, of course, but the second your blood dripped onto his tongue, he closed his eyes and moaned into the bite. That alone was enough to dull the pain.Â
His grip softened, hand drifting away from your throat to caress your jawline. His touch was oddly gentle in contrast to the vice-like grip his jaws held you in. As if he were torn between the anger thatâs ruled his life and the reverence he holds only for you.Â
His frenzied need to claim you was soon satiated. But the damage was done. And now, you wear a badass scar that shows who you belong to.Â
Whenever you catch Heisenberg staring at the scar, you can see a combination of satisfaction and regret in his gaze.Â
And it doesnât take long for you to figure out just how far his obsession with you goes.Â
You start to notice certain articles of clothing disappear over time. Itâs little things at first, and infrequent enough to brush it off.Â
But Heisenberg has no shame. In fact, he wants you to catch him.Â
Soon, you begin finding said missing clothing stashed around his factory. Only now adorned with various stains. You can put two and two together.Â
Eventually, you catch him in the act.Â
You find him hunched over a table in the foundry. Heâs wearing a dirty white tank top, soaked with sweat and streaked with oil stains. This, in and of itself, isnât an odd sight. But the noises he was making certainly caught your attention.Â
Heisenberg is panting and groaning softly, needy sounds from deep in his throat that paint a picture of desperation. Evidently making no great effort to hide what heâs up to.Â
Muscular, slicked in sweat, and decorated in scars. Truly a sight to marvel at. The way his back muscles ripple in sync with the movement of his arm is mesmerizing in a way.Â
And when you move closer? He has the audacity to laugh and invite you to watch.Â
âI was wondering when youâd catch on. Just sit back and enjoy the show, pretty boy.âÂ
Heisenberg turns to face you. A pair of your boxers in his left hand and his heavy cock in his right.Â
Precum is already streaming from his tip, coating his dick and hand in a copious amount of fluid. Effectively acting as a lubricant with which heâs jerking himself off. The slick sounds that follow are downright obscene.Â
Heâs stroking himself at an almost casual pace. Not chasing his release, but rather, prioritizing the languid display heâs putting on for you.Â
He maintains heavy eye contact the entire time. Even as he brings your boxers to his face and inhales your scent. Huffing whatever residual musk he can find. His cock twitches in response, and he picks up the pace.Â
When he speaks up again, itâs with a low whine as his movements begin to stutter.Â
âAs much as I love your scent, you need to smell more like me.âÂ
And just like that, heâs cumming. Even he looks startled at how abrupt his release is, and he clumsily readjusts to spill the rest of his load into the pair of your boxers.Â
âAhâ fuck.â
He recovers quickly, and a smirk spreads across his face while he admires the mess he made. His hand, your underwear, and the floor are all splattered with various amounts of cum.Â
âI suppose you can have these back now. You can thank me later.âÂ
I doubt Heisenberg would care about bathing regularly. He gets too wrapped up in his work. While engrossed in a project, he barely eats or sleeps, much less bothers with personal hygiene.Â
So if youâre into a bit of musk and engine grease? Great! If not, you could probably convince him to bathe more often if you offer to join him. Or just blast him with a garden hose on occasion until he gets the point.
However, when it comes to your bathing habits, Heisenberg absolutely cares. Those sharp senses of his miss nothing. And he fucking loves your natural scent.Â
What you consider basic personal hygiene and self-care, he considers a nuisance. Your deodorant and cologne mask your body odor. Your frequent showers/baths rob him of the opportunity to taste your sweat. And your clean clothes carry no trace of the previous day's hard work. (Hence why heâs resorted to stealing your dirty laundry.)Â
Sooner or later, he decides heâs had enough.Â
After a long day of helping him around the factory, you wander off to clean up for the night, but he quickly intercepts.Â
âAnd just where do you think youâre going?âÂ
His tone is almost accusatory, as if youâve done something wrong.Â
âI could lend you a hand this time.â
He steps in front of you and places a hand flat against your chest. Something about his expression and the way he stopped you in your tracks gives you the sense he wasnât asking.Â
At this point, itâs no surprise when he abruptly cages you against the nearest wall. Youâve grown used to how his muscular form dwarfs yours, and how he uses his size and stature to his advantage. Not that youâre complaining.Â
His eyes are practically glowing with excitement as he starts to tear your clothes off with all the grace of a rabid animal.Â
Once youâre shirtless, his left hand grips both of your wrists and pins them above your head. And then, before you can even think about resisting, he shoves his face into your armpit and inhales sharply. Taking in as much of your concentrated scent as possible.Â
He shivers, his voice lowering to something close to a growl.Â
âHehâ finally.â
Heâs immediately hard. Because of course he is.Â
Heisenberg wastes no time; heâs palming his erection through his pants with his free hand while he savors your scent. But the greedy bastard canât get enough. He needs more.Â
So the obvious solution is for him to start licking up the sweat dripping down your bare chest. Any protests fall on deaf ears. Heâs far too enraptured with you to care about little things like dignity.Â
The taste of your sweat elicits a heady whine from him. He releases your wrists and trails his hands down your sides as he lowers himself to his knees. Any pretenses of control were quickly forgotten.Â
Oh, now this is downright pathetic. But what a sight to behold.Â
You reach down and lightly comb your fingers through his hair, prompting him to look up and meet your gaze. Heâs practically drooling while he nuzzles your happy trail.Â
Itâs funny how quickly the dynamic between you can change. Just moments ago, he was dominantly pinning you against the nearest wall. But now? Heâs at your mercy, and you wouldnât be surprised if he started begging.Â
Hii! I was wondering if you could write for Runaan x male reader. Where reader is super sweet and a healer in the silvergrove, always wears lethal flowers in his hair (such as foxglove or belladonna or lily of the valley.) I think Iâd be cute, Runaan having a healer as a husband since heâs an assassin. And treating his wounds from training.
Of course, if you donât want to write this then donât pressure yourself! I hope you have an amazing day đ¤đŞť
A/n: Yes, based off that one quote. No, I have no idea what it is from, but I saw PoVs on TikTok about it eons ago. ALSO HI YES THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK, PLEASE KEEP SENDING THEM IN I PROMISE I DON'T BITE I LOVE GETTING REQS
You found yourself tending to a lot of the same types of elves in your career of being one of the Silvergrove's healers. Namely, you were finding yourself tending the the assassins often. Usually, there were superficial wounds, ones that wouldn't cause you too much of a headache.
Though, there were times were you had to deal with worse injuries; arrow wounds, stabs, broken bones. These types of injuries became your speciality very quickly, and you kissed dealing with smaller problems âlike sicknessâ goodbye.
Though, you found yourself meeting a certain elf more and more each time. Runaan.
At first, he was reluctant to head to your place, determined to ensure everyone around him that he was completely fine; regardless of the fact you had to drag his backside and force him to accept the help. Over time, however, he started to come out of his own willingness.
"<<Reader>>." He called when he walked into your humble workplace.
"Just a moment!" You called from another room, rushing along to try and get everything reorganised; muttering under your breath about stubborn elves for the hundredth time that week.
You emerged a few seconds after, greeting Runaan with a big smile. "Runaan, I was wondering when I would see you again. What is it this time?"
"Nothing much." He said simply, waving a hand dismissively when he saw that you were coming over to him with the intention to look him over. "I was wondering if you had any advice for aches."
"Aches?" You echoed, then nodded. "There's a few herbs for aches. Ginger and Willow bark are the ones that I find myself using the most, Devil's Claw is something I recommend for the elders more than anything, Ashwagandha and Hops can be used too, but I sometimes even add in Lavender to teas to help because of the aroma. Does any of that help?"
Runaan nodded slowly. "Oh, yes, yes. That, uh yes, that does help."
He didn't want to admit that he was only there to see you.
When he didn't make a move to continue the conversation, or even to say goodbye and leave, you laughed softly. "Anything else I can help you with?"
"How do you know what herbs to use?" He blurted out, not exactly sure what else to ask to keep the conservation going.
"What's sparked this sudden interest in Herbology?" You teased, but you answered his question. "I studied them a lot, and I still brush up on that studying to this day. I have my mentor to thank because, without him, I probably wouldn't have the foggiest clue where to start."
Runaan only nodded along.
"How do you know how to fight your different opponents?" You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.
Runaan was taken a back from the question, not sure where it came from. "I'm sorry?"
"You asked me about my work, and now I'm asking you about yours." You said with a simple shrug of the shoulders.
"Oh, right." Runaan said with a quick nod. "Well, I suppose I quickly observe them and figure out what they favour in a fight. Then, I adapt."
"I suppose we have that in common." You mused.
"How so?"
"Well," You started with a breath in. "You observe your opponent and adapt your fighting to beat them. I must observe stubborn elves, such as yourself, and figure out little tricks to tell me the truth. Even when you assassins tell me that your wounds aren't a big deal, I must adapt when I see the real state of them, and quickly figure out how I must fix them."
"But killing and healing are completely different." Runaan said with a small huff of air. "Taking a life is hard, destroying something like that is hard."
"You think killing is hard?" You questioned with a hum. "Try healing something. That takes patience. You can break something in two seconds, but fixing it? It can take forever."
"Why why have you stayed doing this for so long?" Runaan asked.
You hummed and shrugged your shoulders, a big grin appearing on your face. "Because I like fixing things."
But Runaan could tell that that wasn't the true answer.
.
. .
. . .
"It is nothing."
The sentence was starting to lose all meaning to you.
"I'm fine."
That one was too.
"It is just a scratch."
Oh, funny, that one was as well!
Any variation of those three sentences, you had heard them all. Each time you would hear it, you were sure that you were losing all sense because how, in any higher being, did anyone think that their injures were 'fine'.
You had tended to countless wounds and varying seriousness, all coming from different situations. You had pretty much seen it all. You were just unsure if you preferred tending to sickness over physical injury; either way you were met with stubborn elves.
Noticeably so, you were met with a very stubborn Runaan.
Before the two of you got together, before the two of you even got married, you had seen Runaan in your little corner in the Silvergrove a hundred times over. You memorised his tells before you realised you liked him, or that he liked you.
It was the getting him to admit that he was hurt that was the hard part, and something that you struggled with even after years of being his partner.
"Runaan, I swear..." You huffed under your breath, pinching the bridge of your nose.
"It's nothing." He tried to reassure, but you âeven if you weren't married to the elfâ didn't miss the limp, or the wince when he moved a certain way. "I'm fine. It's just a scratch."
"It's either nothing, or it's a scratch, decide." You said with a pointed finger wiggling in his face.
"It's nothing." He said with a faint shrug of the shoulders.
You glared at him for a few seconds, and he stared back.
"You're a fool." You said with a huff, then pointed at the chair in the kitchen. "Sit down."
"I got something for you." Runaan tried to say."
"That's nice." You said, half paying attention as you got some of the herbs you had stashed away. "I still need you to sit down."
You grabbed the kettle that you had been brewing over the fireplace, but grew startled when you realised that Runaan was standing behind you. He was lucky that you didn't spill the boiling water all over him.
He was holding out a few picked foxglove flowers, he had a small smile on his face. You stared at him for a few seconds, unimpressed. While, yes, it was sweet that he had picked them for you, you knew what he was trying; distraction from his injuries by giving you a gift, in hopes you would forget about him.
"Runaan." You said slowly.
"You said you needed some. I got you some."
"I can see that."
"Where would you like them."
"On the table and, while you're at it, sit down."
He sighed faintly, placing them carefully on the table before he sat down on the chair.
You shook your head slowly, turning back to the counter so you could work on the herbal tea. You made sure that there was willow bark in it, as it was good for pain and because Runaan wasn't telling you what exactly was wrong with him, you couldn't figure out the specifics of what would best help him.
While you waited for his tea to brew, you walked over to him with sap from aloe vera sap, which you often used for irritated skin, burns or injuries following that sentiment. When you were opposite him, you motioned for Runaan to lift his tunic.
He did so bregrudgingly.
This was one of the few times he was right about it being 'fine'. There was no serious harm done to him, thankfully. You figured that his muscles were just exhausted, and that was causing his discomfort; it was a good thing he had that willow bark tea. You applied the sappy gel onto his ribs gently, massaging it into his skin.
"Don't exhaust yourself anymore today." You said sternly.
Runaan only smiled up at you, just as he did every time you gave him your stern voice.
"I'll make you chamomile tea tonight, too." You said absentmindedly as you turned your back on him to grab the tea that you poured mere moments ago. "It should get you sleep well and, hopefully, you won't have that ache tomorrow morning."
"Thank you, my love." He said softly, taking the hot tea from your hands when you passed it to him.
"Huh-uh." You hummed, moving to sit beside him. "You do know it's my day off, right?"
"I did tell you it's nothing." He said with a faint chuckle.
"And you're usually lying to me when you say that." You said with an amused scoff.
He didn't answer to that.
"You never did tell me why you stayed being a healer for so long." Runaan said randomly, and you were taken aback by the question.
"I'm sorry?"
"That convseration we had a few years ago." He specified, and you were surprised he even remembered that conservation; it seemed so pointless too remember. "You said you liked fixing things, and that was why you were still a healer, but I don't think that's the truth."
"You shrugged your shoulders, leaning back in your chair. "I suppose I never lost sight of why I wanted to become a healer in the first place."
"And why is that?"
"Because we spend so much time breaking each other, we don't think about how to fix what we break." You said simply.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Qualityâ Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Kinktober '25 Schedule // More Kinktober // Masterlist 2.0
Base Synopsis: In an effort to get first-hand experience for a research paper, you seek out the Pandora's Box of sexual fantasies. A cursed box hidden away in a faraway cave that welcomes you in with open arms. With eager curiosity, you open it up. Inside lays three different fantasies awaiting you.
This story contains three subsections with a fem!reader, a masc!reader, and a gn!reader with unspecified characters. Warnings for each section will be listed before them. Below are the additions:
Fem!Reader: You're the sacrifice for three sexy, bullying fem!demons that come to play with their new toy. // 2.3k words // sub!reader + gangbang
Masc!Reader: You're a pirate that goes overboard and is saved by a slew of sirens. Since they helped you, they ask for your help in return. // 2.2k words // breeding kink gangbang + a sub!reader
GN!Reader: You're a mad scientist thatâs testing if edging two shy strangers will push them into fucking each other. // 2.1k words // medical/scientific kink + a dom!reader
It was hard to determine what the sincere point of the box was. Cruelty? Humiliation? Exploration and experimentation? All accounts had differing explanations, differing experiences. Stories of torture, of fantasy, of the impossible becoming impossible. No deaths were marked in association with the box directlyâits cruelty and pain wasnât of that sort.
The simple fact was, through the means of blushing cheeks and flustered recounts, the box knew you. It opened up as you opened it, and it dug so deep into your psyche, it tormented. It pulled something from your soul to recount for you through whatever interest its consciousness seemed to hold. Like you were a toy put into a new chest to be played with when it wanted you.
Through the sparkling caves, the freezing air, the shaking light of your flashlight, you stared at the box. A single, simple, small black box made of onyx. No clasp. Just golden hinges on the back that somehow kept the very thing perfectly intact on the natural stone pedestal.Â
There was no puzzle to solve. No spell to be spoken. No offerings to be made. It was just as simple as walking up and opening the box.
All the notes you had on it sat neatly tucked away in your bag. Whatâd youâd started on your research paper was beside it, waiting for more. Waiting for a personal recount of such an impossible, fantastical, mythological object. All you had to do was add your personal recount, the proof that it was there and not a fever dream. The fact that youâd managed to find it at all was a great step. You just had to take the leap and hope the recounts were truthful and the possibility of death wasnât waiting for you the second you stepped closer.
Deepest fantasies. Deepest impossibilities.
With a deep breath and a stuttering heartbeat, you stepped closer to the harrowing box.
Cool onyx touched trembling fingers, yet you still lived. A rush of what was so obviously magic sank through your fingertips, past your fingers, and through your entire body. A soft burning of magnificent power. Old power. Power none harnessed anymore, and it was power that anchored your feet exactly where they were.Â
Open. A soft whisper against the back of your ear. OpenâŚ.
Itâs what you were there to do after all. In the hum of magic, the glittering walls of the cave reflecting all around you, the box warming in your hands, you did what you were there to do. With the softest creak in the hinges, you opened the box.
Dark, sparkling black smoke poured from the blackened interior, and in one nervous breath, the cave vanished.Â
Fem!Reader:
Warnings: nsfw content, sacrificial sex with three demon women, foursome/gangbang, consensual but in the fantasy itâs implied dub-con, reader wears a latex suit, riding crop used, dom!demons, degradation & mocking of the reader, humiliation, nipple stim, clit stim, fingering (vaginal and anal), oral/facefucking (all receiving), nondescript hair pulling on the reader, multiple orgasms, rough strapon sex (oral, vaginal, and anal), overstimulation, implied squirting if you want, no aftercareÂ
****
Chains. What was once a cave rippled into a dark, candlelit room of chipped stone. Red fabric hung around the walls and the ceiling, intermixed with chains. Long, thick, swinging chains. A hypnotic lull into the warmth of the magic taking hold.
One heavy blink, and you were there entirely. A faded, blurry false memory now wrapping you anew in a reality before you. Real as real could get.
The cold stone floor pressed into your knees with each new fact was checked off. Black latex was practically suctioned to your skin. It clung to every curve from the collar around your throat to the cuffs on your wrists and ankles. Jingling chains with thick locks kept you on the floor with little slack to move.Â
Stuck on your hands and knees, the flicker of your heart finding a quicker, unsteady rhythm, you followed the glance down along yourself to the restraints on the floor. A consciousness was there that you were in the box in the cave in a magic-induced fantasy. But every slow drag of your eyes over the zipper going horizontal across your chest down to the one nestled with a bell right over your cunt, new memories came through. Ones that had that air of impossibility about them, yet they were so tangible.
You could feel the hands on you thatâd brought you to the dungeon. Felt the sting of wicked laughter when you were chosen as that yearâs sacrifice as punishment for betraying your family. For reasons out of reach, but it was there. Could still feel the hands wrangling you naked into the latex suit, long fingernails running along the zipper when they finally had you cuffed, collared, and on the floor waiting as you were.
And the creak of the doorâŚ.
Was there.
A tangible, deep, unforgiving fantasy.
Three women strolled in wearing variations of black lingerie. One held a riding crop. One held a ring of keys. The one in the center had three cunt-clenching harnesses in her hands. All came with their own wicked smile and red irises.Â
âOhâŚ.â the center woman mused. The door shut and locked behind the trio. She strolled right up to you, setting the harnesses aside and pressing two fingers under your chin. The chin pulled at the collar, already at its limit. It pulled at the back of your neck with a soft strain. âYouâre going to be a fun toy to play with, I just know it.â
Up. Her fingers slid up. Two pushed past your lips and slowly pumped. They tasted sweet like berries and sugar. The other two women strolled around you. The keys jingled out of sync with every pump of the fingers in your mouth. The end of the riding cropâ
Pressure came between your legs on the zipper pressing into your clit. It wasnât anything so noticeable before, but the drag of the riding crop from where that bell hung on the zipper down to where it curved all the way back over your bottom, it was enough. Your hips twitched in the rhythm up and down movement.
âOh, look at that, she likes it already,â the woman behind you mused. Thwack. A quick, light tap of the riding crop hit your cunt and you lurched forward, further onto the fingers in your mouth. A muffle whine broke past your lips, and the laughter in the room erupted. âDo you want us to play with you?â
Another thwack, that time against your ass. Harder. Clean across it horizontally, the sting throbbing through the latex and making you stay a bit forward.
The woman who once had the keys came up beside the one whose fingers pushed all the way into your mouth and pushed down on your tongue, holding you steady. They smiled down at you while scoffing.
âWell, we should unwrap our present,â the now-keyless woman said. Her fingers came to your jaw first, slowly dragging down to your shoulders. Stepping back around you, the drag of those nails just long enough to push through the suit had goosebumps climbing that were wiped away by the crack of the riding crop against your ass. Harsh, slow strikes that had that clenching growing. âJustâŚrightâŚhereâŚ.â
Zip.
The vibrations of the undoing zipper came across the whole suit. Cold air touched your chest with the sudden pressure release. The divots in your skin were felt as your breasts spilled out. A stutter in your heart came with three things. A clench in your cunt, a pump of the fingers in your mouth, and a thwack of the riding crop against your ass.
A little bit of drool came past the corners of your mouth. Out came a whine, too.
Warm hands cupped your breasts by the next thwack. The woman hummed happily as her soft hands groped. Squeezed. Pinched and pulled at your nipples without any warning. The sudden tweak arching your back and pushed you involuntarily down and back. An obscene position that sent heat to your cheeks where the first woman held your chin and whose finger dug into the very meat of where the heat settled.
She held you firmly and left your mouth empty. Another tweak of your nipples brought a new moan out of you; the pain and pleasure mix making your head spin. Her wet fingers wiped across your cheek in tandem with a brush of black hair against your chest. The one groping laid underneath you. She reached for the chain leash without ceremony and yanked. Another crack of the riding crop stung your ass with the give of your elbows, and her mouth closed around one nipple.
âRosina, come play with her tits with Ember.â The one standing before you walked around you, trading places with Rosina. Ember laughed against your breast, sucking hard on your nipple and humming in pure satisfaction when you gasped against the cold floor. âI wish to see how much our little toy likes this.â
âAlways the one taking charge, arenât you, Asha?â Rosina murmured. Yet she joined Ember underneath you, shifting to make room and closing her mouth around a taut, aching nipple. âAwe, how she squirms. Itâs pathetic.â
âNo, no. Not yet.â Asha was behind you, both hands squeezing your hips. A preamble to traveling up along your sides and then back down to the jingling bell. Ember and Rosina both grazed their teeth over your nipples before lapping at them with their tongues. âI want to see if sheâs actually wet for us already.â
Zip.
Just as it had on your chest, the pressure between your legs began to release. The latex gave, the zipper parted, and your eyes could only flutter shut with the cold air swarming toward where you were humiliatinglyâ
âOh, wow.âÂ
Asha pulled the zipper all the way back. She was quick to find you, her fingers parting your cunt and only parting it, the spread telling you exactly how wet you were. Right as your cunt clenched emptily. As Ember and Rosina suckled and licked.Â
âThis gets you all eager, mortal?â With her thumbs, she kept you parted. âYou want us to play with you?â
Again, you clenched. Again, you whined.
Again, the three women laughed.
There was no more cave. No more box of dark, glittering magic encapsulating you as two fingers pushed into your cunt. There was no consciousness of that reality when this one came with a grip in your hair and Ember spreading her legs in front of you and guiding you to her crotchless underwear. There was nothing as Rosina straddled you and pressed a finger into your ass and rubbed your clit.
âOh, do you want to cum?â Ember moaned, rocking her hips and riding your tongue. She tasted heavenlyâaddictive.Â
âShe does. Oh, she wants to cum so badly,â Asha added, slipping a third finger into your cunt and curling them against your sweet spot.Â
âAw, and sheâs so close, too. Poor thing.â Rosina pressed a second finger into your ass. She rubbed your clit faster. âYouâre not supposed to like this. Why would you, mortal? Every hole played with while youâre leashed like a dog on our floor?â
Ember threw her head back with a smile, her thighs shaking on either side of your head. Her grip grew harder and locked you against her. Right where she shifted, dropping back onto one hand, her legs going over your shoulders. She pushed her hips up and you could only lock yourself against her clit. Lapping, sucking, moaning as the fingers inside of you drilled harder and faster. Rosinaâs fingers on your clit worked tight circles around you until you felt it. Impending and unavoidable. You dove in harder between Emberâs legs, aching to let her cum first. She had to. Knew it like it was a simple fact of lifeâshe had to cum first.
She did.
With a dig of nails in your scalp and another lift of her hips, she threw her head back with another moan. It bounced around the dungeon-esque room and she gushed over your tongue. Sweetly. Still addictively.Â
âOh, donât cum,â Asha said, scissoring her fingers inside your cunt. âDonât. Thatâs pathetic, mortal. Have some dignity where you didnât even try to fight us.â Harder. The wet thrusts of her fingers drove right against your sweet spot. Rosina snickered and plunged her fingers knuckle-deep in your ass and curled them to hit Ashaâs.Â
âToo late, Asha, you should feel how hard sheâs squeezing my fingers. Sheâsâ.â
Climaxing. Rosina didnât get to finish. Your vision blurred until you were gasping and squirming between Emberâs legs. It slammed into you without mercy, the pleasure rippling through from head to curling toes. Their fingers drilling into you and making sure you didnât just cum, you broke. Tears welling, hips rocking, cunt and asshole spasming while you nearly screamed. While you gushed around Ashaâs fingers as she fucked you through every second.
While the three women laughed and laughed and laughed, still fingering you. Still rubbing your clit. The sound bouncing around the room deafeningly. The sound drowned in the rush of pleasure they werenât letting up on, still abusing your clit, still torturing your sweet spot when you started to come down from your orgasm.
Still.
Still.
Still.
They stayed exactly like that, unchanging. Overly sensitive and trying to writhe to get away from the too much, they just put more weight onto you, holding you still. Making tears slip down as Rosinaâs fingers on your sensitive clit shattered you to jagged, moaning pieces.
You came again.
Hard.
There was no cave. There was nothing. The fantasy had you as trapped as they did. Time passed in a strange way; the slowness of savoring the pleasurable torment in a way only a fantasy could slow itself down to, almost replaying itself at times. No limits could really be broken, no pain was permanent, no climax was singular.Â
Ember, Rosina, and Asha circled you in the puddle youâd become on the ground. The sounds of the chains dragging and clinking mixed into the wet, rough thrusts as you took impossibly thick, long straps down your throat, in your cunt, and in your ass. Endless, constant fucking. Making you choke, making your moans muffle, making your cunt and ass spasm while they took turns fucking each hole.
Newly on your back, the chains unlocked enough to manhandle you how they wanted you, you were lost in a den of that unending pleasure as each one made you choke, scream, and cum. Watching them drive into you when you had a single second to breathe without something in your throat. Watching their painted fingernails pull the hood back on your clit so the other could play with it like it was a toy for idle hands.
There was no cave for what felt like an eternity you never wanted to give up. Every position they bent you into. The night endless. The pleasure endless. The obscenity growing and burrowing deeper, every second of it mocked when you were bent over yourself, knees to your stomach, upper back on the ground, and Rosina rode your tongue and Ember and Asha made you cum again. Again. And again.
There was no end for so long. No end until you were bound out of the latex suit, Asha taking her turn on your tongue, and the three of them were lapping at your cunt in messy, wet, sloppy turns.Â
When Asha came squirting over your chin, humping your tongue and grinning back at you, it was then. The rush of the climax Ember and Rosina threw you toward without hesitation.
The view of Asha leaning over you and pressing two fingers into her cunt. The press of two into yours as someoneâs tongue lapped at your bullied clit. The rip of pleasure stolen from you as your orgasm built in an instant and slammed into you with the same overwhelming gushing as beforeâ
Cave.
Your hands were on the box, the magic retracting. Your orgasm crashed into you and buckled your knees. Colliding with the floor, still feeling their fingers and tongue toying with you, you hunched over yourself climaxing.
The box clicked shut.
The cave walls glimmered around you.
You fell face first onto the cold, damp ground, gasping as you soaked through your underwear and pants.Â
Impossibly real.
You undid your pants and fucked yourself on your fingers there, needing to feel it some more.
So, so impossibly real.
After climaxing swiftly around your fingers, you pushed back up and reached for the back. Ember, Rosina, and Asha. Their names were a sputter on your lips. Your notes ignored.
You opened the box again and let the magic take you.
Masc!Reader:Â
Warnings: nsfw content, breeding kink, pirate!reader with hair thatâs long enough to be occasionally pulled (but otherwise it is not described), gangbang/sorta orgy, multiple fem!sirens that are humanistic in appearance (Iâm a coward, Iâm sorry), aphrodisiac, nipple stim, multiple orgasms, sorta orgasm torture but the aphrodisiac is given multiple times, brief mention of anal fingering (reader receiving), face riding, choking, no aftercare
****
The melody was quiet. A melancholy yet beautiful tune echoing through the winds whipping around your crew and the waves crashing against the side of your boat. Closing your eyes, you could feel it. The cave drifting away as the false memories came swiftly to replace them. Drinking on the deck, mapping the ocean, checking charts, feasting when you hit land for a few nights.Â
It was all there dancing around that haunting tune.
Even the shift in the air when the sun vanished behind the storm clouds. The tune grew louder, and there was a hook in your mouth drawing you to the edge of your ship. The sanded wood pressed into your palms while rain began to pelt.Â
The memories melded together. The shouts. The ripping winds. The mast breaking. The waves rocking the boat too far starboard. The tune grew even louder when the boards vanished from beneath your feet. It rushed around you like the cold water.Â
Memories. Just memories.
Memories of salt water flooding your lungsâ
âWake up.â
Your eyes flew open, and there the memories flooded away. Just out of reach, the ache in your body fading quickly. A room opened around you; a room of seafoam green walls and a plush bed beneath you. The wooden frame was made of driftwood carved into beautiful shells and ocean flora. Scallop shells lined the walls with glowing orbs to illuminate the room. Pearls dangled from twine in beaded curtains along the bedframe.
But that wasnât where your eyes fell.Â
What did the room matter when there were about a dozen women gathered around you. Some creeping around others. Some standing tall and curious with glowing eyes watching you. Purples, pinks, greens, and yellows all flitting over you. Pearls, shells, and gold and silver clips were braided into damp hair. Thin, sheer, flowy dresses hung over the myriad of bodies. Gills varied in subtlety on throats and what looked like scales were in patches along arms, shoulders, and where the gowns slit along legs.
Theyâd saved you.
The hands pulling you from the water. Mouths coming to yours, hands on your chest, life resurging as you woke on the sandy beach for moments before falling unconscious again.
And then you were there. Staring up at the crowd of beauty taken out of mythology. At the movement to your leftâa glinting silver tray coming to head level with a sea glass cup housing a pink drink. It glimmered and seemed to swirl on its own. Pink smoke carried off of it like magic.
âWe have given you our help,â one said beside you, crawling onto the bed. Her fingers were warm on your cheek with the softest touch. They skimmed down to where new clothes donned you nice and dry. A white shirt just like the last. Your torn pants traded for new brown ones, and your sword and knife were elsewhere with your belt. Her hand pressed flat against your chestâright over your pounding heart. âWe require yours.â
A small smile curled at her perfect lips. Her pink eyes glinted. That flat hand slid up and down along your chest, chasing the scars up to the shark tooth you donned on the leather necklace.Â
âWe need you.â
From your chest down to your cock, in a swift breath, she had you in hand. Blood already rushed before she touched, and the fact only made her smile grow. One glimpse past those pretty lips and the light caught the sheerness of her gown. The curve of her breasts. The point of her nipples.Â
Itâd been so long since youâd been with anyone but your fist.
And when they all looked to you like you were a feast given to the starved, your answer was so simple.
âTake the drink,â she mused softly, leaning in closer. She smelled like the sea in all the best ways. The dangling pearls moved and the drink became clearer and nearer in your peripheral vision, but she was right there. Her lips brushing yours with a need that was as hypnotic as that melancholy tune. âTake it.â
With a simple lean, you glanced up at the next woman sitting beside you. She handed you the glass, but her hand never left it. She helped it up to your mouth, tilting it back as the bed dipped on the other side of you. Behind you. The sweet drink was poured down your throat and you gulped it as quickly as you could. Some dribbled down your chin, and there was warmth along it. Warmth as they leaned in, licking it up to your lips. Two at once, with hands pushing into your hair, licking up your chin and taking your mouth to theirs. Half battling, but they seemed to push you back and forth between them to steal sloppy, hungry kiss after kiss.
Backâyou were on your back in an indescribable daze. With every swallow, every kiss, every touch, there was this molten drip in your veins. Hands pulled at your shirt. They pulled at your bottoms. The pearls on the bed knocked together as more came closer to watch, to touch, to tear at your clothing. To cup your cheek and kiss you as mouths kissed along your chest, tongues drew slowly over scars and your nipples, soft growls coming through as your eyes threatened to flutter shut.Â
It was too much to keep up with. Reaching for the one thatâd just curled her tongue inside your mouth only brought your hand down to be pinned as another kissed you harder, slower. Your cock was freed and hands pulled your legs far apart. Hair draped over your thighs, your legs, your stomach.
The dresses dropped in a staggering succession. The swell of pressure that hit your cock was indescribable. Your balls tightened and the build in your clenching stomach was desperate. A man without the touch of another for so long wouldâve been enough, youâd spent many a night in bedrooms on shore to speak to that. But whatever youâd drank had you staring down at the precum dribbling from the tip through the sea of stripping women on the verge of begging.
They were so beautiful.
More. Hands palmed your cock almost tauntingly. Teasingly. It twitched under their touches, and your hips tried to lift to grind against whomeverâs palm was touching you then. But they never stayed long enough. Hands on your hips held you down firmly, for good measure, too. And the rim of a bottle was brought to your lips, and that drink dribbled out. It spilled past your mouth while you tried to keep up with it, lapping it up as the bottle emptied. Butâ
Wet. Wet, tight, and hot. Her moan cut through the room when one sank down on your cock. The only hint was the hand at the base of your shaft, then the weight you hardly registered when you were drinking from the bottle. But she was there thenâthat pretty cunt squeezing around you, her body shuddering and shoulders pushing back to give you a fine view of her tits. A sea of more. A frame of naked beauty reaching up to her, pinching and licking her nipples while hands skimmed lower to rub her clit.
She clenched around you again.
Sweet mercy, spare you the torture. Ride. Ride. Just ride.
âDonât waste a drop now,â one whispered in the ear of the one taking your cock. âAnd donât break him. We all need him.â
Glowing eyes found you again. Your cock throbbed beneath her, beneath them, beneath the looks that had your hips rutting up and the woman moaning. When she sank back down on that bounce, she continued. Riding you slowly at first, taking you back in, bit by bit, with a pure desperation in her look. The others crowded. The others pinned your shoulders down and held your hands back as she rode you.Â
Slow became steady. Steady became faster. Soft whines were egged on by the others that werenât pulling your head to get kisses or to press their tits in your face. You licked, kissed, nipped away. Your orgasm rose. Grunts joined her increasing moans, and they did not leave her unattended either. It was a sight and fantasy of utter lust and sin. Debauchery youâd only figured hidden behind the walls of brothels.Â
And yet.Â
Yet, her cunt beckoned your cock back in, and there was no lasting. When she doubled over moaning, clawing at your chest, bouncing harder on your cockâthat was it. A rope snapped, and you pushed your heels into the bed. With grit teeth and a choppy, guttural groan, you came. You came hard and roughly, rutting up inside of her and spilling like a goddamn burst pipe.Â
Months alone at seaâŚ.
âHold it in. Hold it. Hold it,â they soothed, helping the one off of you. In a renewed vigor, a painful ache finding your cock with a near painful erection begging to slip into another there, you watched her slink off to lay on her back, her knees tucked to her chest. Sheâ
More weight returned to you, and your eyes were on a new woman. Just as naked. Just as beautiful. She smiled eagerly as she sank down on your cock without pause. She wasnât as shy, already bouncing. She leaned forward, her hands beside your head, planting her mouth on yours. Your hips were freed, and you moved on your own.Â
They needed you.
You rutted up into her hard, grunting into the kiss. Her moans broke out across the room as the rest hummed, sang, and touched.Â
They needed you.Â
You gave yourself to them in thanks. A favor for a favor.
They took turns. The sensations were overwhelming. The pleasure was unending. The soft blankets and sheets wound up on the floor through the scuffle. One by one, they took you. They sank down on your never softening cock, riding you endlessly. Hands and mouths played with your balls in such a manor, you couldâve broken apart from that alone. Fingers sank lower and pressed where youâd only occasionally had fingers before, but this was different. They knew exactly where they were touching, and one had only just started riding you when your hips jerked up and you came.Â
Those impatient for their turn took to climbing onto the bed and straddling your face. One would pour more of that sweet drink into your mouth, and just as you swallowed, a pretty pussy was there as dessert. As a new feast to dive into with just as much sweetness.Â
Feeling them cum on your tongue as another came around your cock was a sweet fantasy within one. One with endless beautiful women using you to breed. Over and over, the orgasms maddening. Wonderful. A perfect death if one awaited you at the end.
âYouâve done so well for this first day, human,â one whispered as she sank down on your cock. The last. The rest were scattered about the room with their knees up holding in your cum. She rocked her hips, grinding your cock against her squeezing cunt. Pink eyes burned into you with fervor. âTomorrow you will take us all again. Then the next day and the next. We must be sure all have taken.â
She took you deeper and slower than the rest, leaning forward to press her tits to your chest and brushing her mouth over yours.Â
âCan you endure such a task for us?â She nipped at your bottom lip. Her voice was like a distant melody.
You licked at the taste of every pretty pussy youâd had on your mouth and smiled. Your voice was gone, but you could still nod. She hummed happily. Her hand slid and found your throat, squeezing and holding while she straightened.Â
âGood. It would be such a disappointment if weâd save you for nothing.â
Her eyes fluttered shut when her movements got faster. Harder. Riding you and making the bed shake. The pearls bounced about and your hips lifted to meet every thrust. Mercy. Mercy. Your balls tightened and your climax started as a throb in your balls and shot upward. Shot through every inch of you with a visceral pleasure.
Her cunt squeezed. Her moans echoed.Â
She came around you gushing and spasming, pushing you over the edge.
Throwing your head back, you touched the stone floor of the cave. There was nothing but your pants touching your cock, and you spilled inside your underwear as you humped the air. Fucking it like the last siren was still there riding you.
You came like it was the first time youâd been allowed to cum in months.Â
You could still taste every cunt youâd licked when you collapsed. Panting on that cave floor, staring up at the ceiling, your cock pulsing as the last of your orgasm spilled out of you.
âHoly shit,â you breathed. âThatâŚ.â
Your cock twitched.
Without hesitation, you sat up and reached for the box again. You had to know if itâd let you go back for seconds. Thirds. Any number of times to replay that depraved fantasy.Â
Your fingers brushed that cold exterior.
You just had to know.Â
GN!Reader:Â
Warnings: Â nsfw content, medical/scientific kink, dom!research!reader sexually studying unnamed two masc and fem participants, restraints, blindfold & gag used on participants, assistants watch from behind a mirror, nipple stim, nipple clamps, clit stim, fingering, handjob, participant denial & edging on purpose, oral (both participants receiving), reader cockwarms & fucks themselves on a vibrator (implied anal or vaginal, your pick), participants 69-ing, deepthroating, face riding, unprotected sex between the participants, multiple orgasms, no aftercare
****
Light. Bright, white light. Mechanical humming and whirring carried through the pressure of the magic dropping you into the new room. The dark, damp, stuffy cave was gone. No underlying smell of mildew and magic, no, it was sterile and clean in the space around you.
But it wasnât quiet.
The memories found you with a strange ease. Thumbing through paperwork, checking files, stamping two that you approved of and having your assistant call the participants in. A clipboardâthere was a clipboard in your hands that you stared at. Blurry names written down in your handwriting. Checked off steps that you couldnât read in the nonsense they were written as while your feet involuntarily carried you forward. Step by step.
You walked across the tile with your head glued down. The memory of the clothing being stripped, folded, and set aside. The straps being set around wrists and ankles. The two volunteers being blindfolded and gagged on the metal tables per research instructions.
A blue curtain parted around you, and you looked up.
Oh, right.
The cave was so far away as you glanced up. The two volunteers quivered naked on their tables. A man and a woman. Spread eagle, oiled up, cold, and waiting. Gloves snapped on as the procedure replayed itself in your brain like you knew it by heart. You did.Â
Clamps, first. You hummed to yourself while blood rushed between your legs and perked your nipples as theirs were just the same. Starting with the woman, you rolled her nipples between your fingers, tweaking them, pulling them. Watching the monitors with how her breath hitched and her body jolted. Assistants behind the mirrored window just behind you wrote down the necessary notes.
âSensitive,â you whispered, adding a bit by bit of pressure until her back arched and she whined into the gag. The man twitched and writhed, his cock hard already. As hard as the womanâs cunt was wet, too. âThree minutes, then clamps.â
At the buzz of the timer over on the wall, the three minutes up, you reached back and gradually closed a clamp around each nipple, tightening them just enough to leave her shaking. With the same task in mind, you strolled over to the man and did the same, tweaking, pinching, playing with his nipples as the timer reset. And you watched his cock twitch and leak and his heart rate increased drastically in the process.
Like the woman, he shuddered and writhed by the end of the timer.
He got the same clamps as she did.
With a satisfied smile, you stood back and waited the necessary five minutes for them to adjust and calm. They both jolted at the buzzer, but you were unflinching. Everything came naturally. Pulling up the rolling stool and sitting between the womanâs legs perched up in stirrups. Parting her glistening folds and baring her clit. Swollen. Prodding it with your fingerâŚ. She jolted, so you did it again, watching her carefully.Â
âOh, so sensitive.âÂ
You laughed softly when her thighs started to shake. Her cunt glistened beautifully, and you kept the hood pulled back while rubbing her clit firmly. Itâd be based on judgement now, but the clock was still eyed for equal attention purposes. And since their ears werenât plugged, it was a mutually beneficial build for both.
âHow eager you get so quickly,â you mused. âYouâre making a mess of yourself already, and we have hardly begun.â
Slow and steady was the point. And you glanced over at how the manâs cock steadily leaked and twitched, as eager as she was. But not yet. They wouldnât bend yet. BesidesâŚ. You leaned down and moved your finger, blowing softly on her twitching clit until her hips lifted looking for you.
At the five minute mark on the timer, you rolled away from her without warning, and found the man. Cupping his balls in one hand and taking his hard shaft in the other, you gently squeezed. His hips lifted, and with a quick squirt of lube in your hand, you pumped his cock.
The woman squirmed in just the sound of the squelching.
You shifted on the stool, the ache between your legs growing at the sight in the research room.
The whole purpose of the study was to see how quickly both could get to the edge, and how long they could last before they simply begged to fuck the complete stanger in the room with them just to get off.Â
Youâd picked them because they were both shy. Both nervous. Both there just by chance, not even fully knowing what theyâd applied to until you explained it to their flushing faces. The nerves set in instantly, and they contemplated backing out. But when you called, they couldnât pass up the opportunity.Â
Though, to be fair, they only knew the study was just sexual stimulation. The sought after result couldnât be told, otherwise they could skew the data. They also hadnât known theyâd be in a room with someone else, but a blindfold did wonders to cool those nerves. Well, enough to still have them agree. Their racing hearts werenât just from where you stimulated them.
At the five minute timer, you rolled back to the woman. Still dripping wet, you hummed again. Reset and leaned in. Upping the ante with your own self interest bringing you forward, you swirled a fingertip around her entrance. Pushing, pulling back, pushing in some more, then pulling back. Pushing in more, more, more until her wet, hot cunt beckoned you in, and right as you curled your finger in search of her g-spot, you leaned in. Her clit was just so pretty.Â
Her moan cracked out against the gag. You sucked her clit into your mouth with a soft moan yourself.
âA sweet taste,â you murmured loud enough for the man to hear. âAnd based on that reaction, you like having your pussy licked.â
She yanked on the restraints, but they didnât budge. Neither did you. One finger became two. A flick of your tongue had your mouth wrapped around her clit again. Until she reached the edgeâthatâs how long youâd stay there. Fingers squelching into her cunt loudly, fucking her on them as you teased her poor clit. You stayed with your eyes glued to every twitch, every shift, every pull and lift of her hips until she was there. Huffing. Quivering. Squeezing your fingers about to cum.
And you pulled off.
Her gasp barely made it through the gag.
âAnd do you like having your dick sucked?â you asked, returning to the man. His answer came in a groan as you took up the same position as before. Cupping his balls, fisting his shaft, and lowering your mouth over his tip to swirl your tongue. He jerked up into your mouth the second you touched him. âYes, it seems you greatly enjoy it, huh?â
Equal time.
Back and forth, you went between her legs to between his. Lapping, sucking, fingering, deep throating until their bodies went tense, they pulled at the restraints, and they started to drip with sweat. Edge after edge, the time altering between each as one stayed closer to the edge than the other. Â
It was a fun game rolling between them. Playing with them as they grew closer and closer to a pathetic desperation you needed them to reach. You counted each one, too. Each edge you pushed them to and rolled back to tally on a sheet. By fifteen, they were both just mere touches away from climaxing when you returned to them. By twenty-two, the blindfolds were a little wet with more than just sweat. By thirty, you sat back and gave them a two minute long break for personal interest.Â
The memories implanted, knowing where the vibrator was in the bottom drawer of the nearby cabinet, you pulled it out, unbothered by those watching behind the glass, and suctioned it to your stool. Taking off your pants, folding them, and setting them aside, you sank down onto the thick toy, flicked on the vibration feature onto the lowest setting, and you rolled back over to the woman to drive your fingers back into her cunt until she almost spilled over the edge.
But she didnât.
She dripped down onto your table while you went back to the man, bobbing yourself over his cock until his balls tightened, and you played with them. You balanced him on the edge until he just about spilled in your mouth, then you were off again.
By the fiftieth edge, the participants were messes. Complete and utter messes sputtering behind their gags, confused by they hadnât been allowed to cum yet. Good. You rolled back and wrote the last tallies for both, smiling to yourself.
âWe will be moving onto the next portion of the study now. I hope youâre both able to move, for we will be leaving the examination tables behind.â
The next portion had you waving a hand. You adjusted your lab coat while a handful of assistants came in quickly. There was little to be said as they unclasped the confused participants from their tables, helped them onto the padded ground, and bound their hands behind their backs.Â
Flicking your toy up to the next setting, you still smiled. With a wave of your hand again, both blindfolds were pulled off. The participants faced each other. Wide-eyed. Panicky. The nipple clamps were still on and the edges theyâd gathered and sat at had them panting.
âNow, unfortunately, I am unable to let you both cum for the purposes of the study. Itâs against the terms we agreed upon,â you said, holding up the files that you still couldnât read the abstract words scrawled across them. âMy assistants, however, are fetching some toys you can fuck yourselves on to get off. But there was a mixup and they were left at the other facility. It will be an hour and a half wait at least. Two if there is traffic. In the meantime, I can remove the gags if you wish to simply take care of each other. Otherwise, you will have to wait, and when the toys get here, we will begin the experimentation from the start.â
It happens in minutes. The shared looks in the utter disappointment. In the agony of knowing theyâd be sitting there for upwards of two hours. Itâs fascinating, really, how much could be said in just looks. In the ones they gave you that had you waving in another assistant to remove their gags.
âWe must keep your hands bound. We cannot have you getting yourselves off.âÂ
And it was as simple as that. Strangers edged to the point of desperation. They crawled toward each other, and she straddled his face and he lifted his hips up to push his cock into her mouth. She choked on it with a crying moan when he lapped at her cunt.
You turned the toy to the highest setting and they didnât even care. They didnât so much as notice. You fucked yourself on it as they fucked each other, both exploding in almost immediate climaxes. She gushed around his tongue and chin, shaking uncontrollably while he devoured her through it. And she choked on his cock when he rutted in deep, gagging a little as he came down her throat. You squeezed the edge of the stool when your climax hit you, milking every last drop as you hunched forward and your eyes rolled back.
When they opened, your mouth curled into a pleased smile. The toy stayed on inside of you, pushing you back toward an impossible climax immediately. The participants shifted just enough, crawled to where they needed to, and the woman managed to sink down onto his cock, riding him while desperately yanking at her restraints.
You fucked yourself as they did, grinning at those keeping notes out of view.
That second climax rolled toward you unforgivingly, and at the sound of the man climaxing into the woman desperately chasing her second climax, you were back. The cave all around you, welcoming you into the damp, dark space as you fell against the podium, your orgasm slamming into you as you did so.Â
The magic dissipated. The box shut cleanly. And you stared in shaking, orgasmic disbelief.Â
âThatâŚ.â You held a shaky hand up toward the box and scoffed. âHoly shit.â
You scrambled for your notes frantically. The remnants of the fantasy burned themselves into you, and the draw back to the box was unbearable. Another. You wanted to go back in for more.Â
After.
You started scribbling down all you could feel, remember, recall.
If the box would even let you have another fantasy.
