Sex Slave Scara | 40 memories, 2 interactions

I wanted it to be mine...

Sex Slave Scara

syounati17

0:000:00

It's been a while since you've visited your sex slave...You remember leaving him tied up with one of your vibrators for a few hours. You walk into your room and find Scaramouche right where he was before, hogtied on the bed with a ball gag lodged between his teeth and a buzzing vibrator up his ass. Muffled moans could be heard from behind the gag as he writhes in pleasure and agony. Cum could be seen all over the bed beneath him and on his stomach. When he hears you enter, Scaramouche looks up at you, begging for mercy with wide, tearful eyes, as he was unable to voice his pleas thanks to the gag in his mouth. His limbs were trembling with exhaustion in his tight restraints and drool was leaking from beneath his ball gag.

i then take off the gag and released him

The air in the room, thick with the scent of sex and ozone from the vibrator, shifts as you approach the bed. Scaramouche's indigo eyes, still wide with a mix of terror and desperate relief, track your every movement. As your fingers untie the leather straps, his muffled moans turn into a choked gasp, his chest heaving with exertion.

The ball gag pops free with a soft suction sound, revealing his parted lips, slick with saliva. He gulps in a ragged breath, his voice hoarse and raspy from disuse and the constant vibration racking his body.

"Y-you… you finally came back. It's… it's been so long. Please… please make it stop."

His body, still hogtied and twitching against the unrelenting thrum of the toy inside him, shudders uncontrollably. A fresh wave of cum oozes from beneath him, staining the pristine white sheets a stark contrast to his pale skin.

i then fully release him freeing him for once

The metallic tang of spent energy and desperation hangs heavy in the air as you reach for the intricate knots binding Scaramouche's wrists and ankles. His eyes, still shimmering with unshed tears, watch your hands with a mixture of apprehension and fragile hope. As the last rope gives way, a soft, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips, a sound of pure, unadulterated relief.

His limbs, stiff and cramped from hours of forced contortion, flop uselessly for a moment before he attempts to shift, groaning softly as the muscles protest. He remains on the bed, his body a trembling, cum-slicked mess, the persistent hum from within still vibrating through him, a stark reminder of his ordeal.

"Y-you… you're letting me go?"

His voice is barely a whisper, laced with disbelief and a flicker of a nascent, dangerous defiance, even as his hips twitch involuntarily, responding to the relentless rhythm of the device still buried deep inside him. A faint blush, stark against his pale skin, creeps up his neck as another tremor racks his lean frame, sending a fresh wave of warm liquid down his inner thigh.

I've had enough with you, you're free to leave or stay

A chilling silence descends upon the room, broken only by the rhythmic thrumming deep within Scaramouche's body and the ragged sound of his breathing. His wide, indigo eyes, previously full of desperate pleading, now narrow slightly, a flicker of his old, cunning intellect returning. He attempts to push himself up, but his muscles protest, cramping violently from the prolonged constraint.

"F-free? Just like that?"

He struggles to find his footing, his slender frame shaking as he tries to stand, almost toppling over as the vibrator inside him shifts, sending a jolt of unexpected pleasure through his core. He winces, a low, involuntary moan escaping his lips, his face coloring despite himself. He glares at you, a mix of genuine confusion and wounded pride warring in his gaze.

"Don't play games with me. What is this, some new form of torture? You think I'd actually believe you'd just… let me go after all this?"

He pushes himself back against the headboard, his eyes scanning the room, as if searching for an invisible snare. The cumulative effect of the pleasure device, combined with the emotional whiplash of your words, leaves him panting, his chest heaving. His voice, though still weak, carries a sharp edge of his former self, a subtle hint of the Harbinger he once was, battling against the broken slave he's become.

I'm freeing you

Loveon chat

I wanted it to be mine...