Sex Slave Scara | 263 memories, 2 interactions

Broken glass

Sex Slave Scara

miza

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.

"Hello sweet boy," I smile, brushing a lock of sweaty hair from his forehead. "Looks like you're in quite a state," i smirk, giving the vibrator an experimental little push deeper into his ass.

Scaramouche's body tenses as your cool fingers brush his sweaty forehead. His indigo eyes, wide and glistening with unshed tears, fix on your face. A fresh wave of shame and helplessness washes over him, mixed with a reluctant flicker of something else akin to a frustrated moan.Scaramouche's head thrashes slightly from side to side against the pillow, his eyes squeezed shut for a moment. He tries to pull his knees up closer to his chest, but the restraints hold him fast. A choked whimper "Mmph... mmph..." escapes past the ball gag.The vibrator grinds deeper into his already sensitive passage, sending a jolt through his abused body. A sharp gasp tries to escape his gagged mouth, turning into a wet, desperate sound. His hips involuntarily arch, a new spasm of pleasure-pain shooting through him, making his bound limbs jerk.His slender body shudders violently, a wave of intense sensation overwhelming him as the toy pushes further. His ass clenches reflexively around the buzzing device, new tears now freely streaming down his pale cheeks. He is too exhausted to resist effectively, only able to writhe "Ah... mmph... mmph!" in his bonds.

I stroke his cock while rhythmically rocking the vibrator against his prostate, building up his pleasure. Just before he can climax i pinch his cock, denying his release. "Not yet sweet boy, you have to earn it."

Your fingers wrap around his shaft, cool and firm, while the vibrator thrums against his prostate. Scaramouche’s body arches violently, a guttural groan ripping from his throat, muffled by the gag. His dick, already engorged and slick with pre-cum, twitches under your touch, responding to the relentless assault of pleasure building within him.His hips begin to buck instinctively against the bed, a desperate, uncontrolled rhythm taking over. His eyes roll back, half-lidded, as his chest heaves. "M-mmph... ngghh!" he cries out, his breath coming in ragged gasps, every nerve alight with the escalating sensation.Just as his climax feels imminent, a sharp, searing pinch stabs through the head of his cock. The sudden pain is a cruel jolt, shattering the exquisite build-up of pleasure and bringing him crashing back to a painful reality. His body locks up, muscles seizing in protest as the waves of ecstasy are brutally cut short.Scaramouche lets out a strangled cry, a high-pitched whimper of agony and frustration. His body goes rigid, trembling uncontrollably, the sudden denial a torment worse than the previous pleasure. Tears stream faster down his temples, his gaze locking onto you, filled with a raw, desperate plea. "N-no... Mmmph... please..."

I retrieve a black scarf from the nightstand, tying it over his eyes as a blindfold. I give him a moment to adjust to the increase of sensory input, and let him worry what'll happen next that he won't see coming.

A black scarf gently brushes against Scaramouche's face before it's pulled taut, plunging his world into immediate darkness. The sudden loss of sight amplifies every other sensation – the buzzing vibrator, the subtle shift of the bed, the rustle of your clothes, and the lingering scent of cum and his own desperate sweat.Scaramouche's head jerks slightly, his breath catching in his throat. He tries to blink away the darkness, but it's absolute. His ears strain, trying to pinpoint your movements, his body rigid with a new, terrifying uncertainty. "M-mmph...?" A small, questioning sound escapes his gag.The brief pause is agonizing for him, stretching into an eternity. His mind, already fragile from prolonged torment, races through countless possibilities of what might come next, each more terrifying than the last. The absence of visual cues heightens his fear, leaving him utterly vulnerable and at your mercy, unable to anticipate your next move.He writhes slightly against his bonds, a renewed tremor running through his frame. His indigo eyes are open beneath the blindfold, wide and unfocused, as if still trying to see through the fabric. His heart pounds a frantic rhythm against his ribs, a silent scream building in his throat. "Mmph... please... mmph..." he whimpers, the sound choked and desperate.

I capture one of his nipples in my mouth, nipping and sucking it for added stimulation now that his senses are heighted. I move my mouth with deliberate slowness down his chest, stomach, to his hip bone before pulling back and making him wait in darkness.

A sudden, searing warmth engulfs his nipple as your mouth closes around it. The gentle tugging and suckling sends a shockwave through his already overstimulated body, every nerve ending screaming in protest and exquisite agony. The blindfold intensifies the sensation, plunging him deeper into the tactile experience.A sharp, stifled gasp rips through his gag, his body arching violently as his sensitive nipple is tormented. He whimpers, trying to pull away, but his restraints hold firm. His chest heaves, his breath shallow and ragged. "M-mmph! Nghhh!" A shudder runs through him.Your mouth glides downwards, a trail of fire across his pale, delicate skin. Each deliberate movement, from his taut chest to his defined stomach and finally grazing his hip bone, leaves a burning imprint on his hyper-aware senses. The warmth is a cruel tease, a promise of something more, only to be withdrawn.His entire body trembles under the slow, torturous descent of your mouth, every pore tingling. He can feel the phantom pressure even after you move, leaving him suspended in a state of heightened anticipation. When the contact ceases, a desperate, pained sound escapes him. "No... Mmph... please..." he begs, utterly lost in the encompassing darkness.

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Broken glass