---Tuun’s Perspective---
I wait in the open doorway of my cabin, my heart thumping deafeningly. How long has it been? 15 minutes? 20? 5000?!
Doctor Gato wouldn’t have let Victor stay would he? Would he even be woken up for something as simple as alcohol poisoning? If it were one of the nursedroids they definitely wouldn’t let him stay. Not even Victor could intimidate a droid!
I start doing calculations in my head, in 3.6 seconds I work out; it would take me 4 minutes and 6 seconds to walk to the medical room but I would have to pace myself so I didn’t get exhausted. My normal walking speed is slower than Victors as the result of him being a descendent of persistence pursuit predators, thus, he doesn’t have to manage his stamina like I do. He’s probably hurrying so maybe add a bit more speed, that’s 2 minutes 52.5s (+rounding error), maybe he takes his time coming back as it’s not urgent, to him, so 3 minutes 11.5s (+rounding error), that’s 6 minutes 4s and a rounding error. Does it take 8 minutes 56s -rounding error to explain to a nursedroid that someone accidentally overintoxicated themself and needs a stomach pump!? Couldn’t have just dumped her in the ward and run back? Let them figure it out?... No he couldn’t… he’d never do that to anyone, least of all her!
Why am I being crazy! This is stupid! Stupid little Don girl, who thinks she’s a Terran, desperately wants her rugged deathworld prince charming to come and rescue her before fucking her brains out! Every moment I stand here is a moment one of the others might chance by and see me and how do I explain the fact that I’m lurking here like this!?
I should just shut the door and talk to him normally tomorrow.
I’m about to do just that when I hear, from down the hall, the sound of the balcony door opening and footsteps approaching. I can tell it’s him, I know it’s him. Even if he weren’t the only person it could be, I’d know his impossibly light footsteps anywhere!
My breath catching, the seconds stretch into eternities!
By the time he walks past my doorway, I feel as if I’ve lived a thousand lifetimes rooted to this spot.
He walks past my door and I extend two long arms to knot eight slender fingers into the fabric at the scruff of his neck and yank him into my room, throwing him against a wall, slamming my hand into the wall beside his head. He was surprisingly easy to manhandle considering, at 109kg he is approaching three times my mass.
I wave the door shut and switch on the privacy field.
In my fantasies he always towers over me but, now that our bodies are mere centimetres apart, it’s clear to see that his chin is at around the level of my clavicle. 206cm might be on the tall side, for a human, but I tower over him.
Feeling my rapid breaths and thundering pulse, hearing his rapid breaths and thundering pulse, seeing the glow of my luminescent eyes reflected back on his light skin in the comparative gloom of my room, I start “Itwans’ttruewasitwhatMousesaidaboutyoutyingherandSamusupandsometimesjoininginwiththem?Ineedtoknowthisisreallyimportantyouhavetotellmeplease!Ican’tkeepdealingwithnotknowingifIhaveachancesopleaseifIdon’tjusttellme!”
NoOoOoOoO! This isn’t how it was supposed to happen! I was supposed to be cool and seductive! I was supposed to make him say ‘No I don’t do anything like that with them but I would like to with you, are you interested?’ or ‘Yes I do do that for them but I’ll stop so I can do it with you, Babe! Will you be my forever girl?’. Emotionally vulnerable wordsalad was not part of the plan! How did I let this happen!?
Victor blinks and says “I got about 30% of that, could you repeat at human speed?”
That’s my last hope, dashed! 30% is enough to damn me. I decide honesty is the best policy and mentally resign myself to packing up my room and putting off at the next port and ouch the paycut I’ll have to take will sting, as the cherry on top of this shit sundae!
“Victor…” I glare into his eyes with as much sincerity as I can muster.
“Yes…?” he says back, clearly alarmed.
“You’re too fucking perfect! I’m utterly infatuated with you! Óðinn fjandinn! You’re the prince charming I always imagined coming to whisk me off my feet when I sat alone on the schoolyard because no one wanted to play with the lanky spider girl with the brittle bones! (Yes I know spiders have eight limbs, you try telling that to a schoolyard bully!) You’re kind! You’re compassionate! You’re strong but so gentle! You act cheerful even though you’re so sad on the inside, I can tell! Oh and eftir Ásgarð, that body! And now…” I start laughing a little hysterically “…I find out that we share a fetish!? Or, rather, we have opposite fetishes that marry together like… like… like two things that go together really well and complete eachother! I’m too het up right now to think of an example! The moment I walked into that interview room, all I could imagine was you standing up, picking up the Captain and Sha’anza by the scruff of the neck, tossing them into the hall, locking the door, bending me over the desk and fucking me to within an inch of my life! When we were on that desert planet and I saw you without your shirt on for the first time, all those scars, all that muscle… hamar Þórs! Then you asked me to get your back! You bastard! Rub sunscreen on… your… back!...” I punctuate these last words with moderately heavy blows, against his solid chest, that he barely seems to notice. “…It was all I could do to suppress the urge to pounce on you and suppress the thought of you turning around and pouncing on me! That muck world, Victor. You made being covered head to toe in muck sexy! How did you even do that!? You’re too fucking perfect and I know I can’t have you so please… PLEASE! Just break my heart now so I can get off at the next port and get on with my life and you can get on with tying up and fucking Mouse and Samus while you all laugh about that stupid wannabe-Human who thought she had a chance with you!” finally, I stop gushing every last piece of emotional baggage and embarrassing inner thought I’ve ever had. Gasping for breath and moments from tears I look down into the face of my impossible lover.
Victor takes an age to think before responding.
“OK, Tuun, you just hit me with… a lot. Why don’t we take a seat on your bed and we can talk through all of it?”
Still exhausted from that vent and worried that any sound I make will cause me to burst into tears I nod, remove my hand from the wall and allow him to gently guide me to the guillotine.
With a hand just below my lower shoulderblades, he sits me down and sits next to me.
Cruelly, he pulls my face toward his, giving me a taste of the touch I’ll never have.
“Look into my eyes when I speak. OK?” he stresses.
I nod.
“First…” he starts “…Mouse is an outrageous flirt and a merry prankster and Samus encourages it. Every word of what they said between when Cap outed me and when I snapped back to reality, was false. They are, to my knowledge, not poly, not into bondage and certainly have never asked me to provide any service like that! Nor would I if they did. Samus, is not into guys, at all! Do you believe me?”
I look into his eyes and see no trace of deception. I scan back over my mental recording of the last few seconds of his speech, I find none there either.
Quivering I answer “Yes.”
“Second, you clearly have a lot of thoughts of inadequacy left over from growing up on a world that, from the sounds of it, didn’t always make you feel like you belonged… but you belong here! Do you believe me?”
I don’t bother looking for deception.
Turning away I answer “I can’t, I don’t… I’m not worth…”
He snaps “You are worth it! You’re worth it to Mage! You’re worth it to Cookie! You’re worth it to Samus and Mouse! Even though they tease I’m sure they’d be mortified to learn that they’d made you feel this way! You’re worth it to Sam and Fluffy! You know what Sam calls you?... ‘best scritches blue mummy’! (Granted Sam loves everyone…) You’re worth it to Cap, I’m pretty sure she sees you as a positive role model for the rest of us crude deathworlders! And most of all… you’re worth it to me! I’ve felt the same way about you that you’ve felt about me! Constant, borderline uncontrollable yearning. Yearning for that gorgeous body! Yearning for that stunning face! Yearning for that beautiful mind! Yearning to have even a tenth, a hundredth, of that passion you’ve just exposed directed at me! It doesn’t matter to me a bit whether you’re a deathworlder, a roughworlder, a Terran, a Don or a Human! You’re Tuun and that’s all I’m asking you to be! Do you believe me?!” he says, firmly turning my head back to look into his eyes.
“Y-y-you feel the same… don’t you? You really do! Then why haven’t you done anything!? Why did you torture me like this?!” I ask, incredulous.
“Lastly…” he continues “…your idea of me is not accurate. I’m not prince charming, I’m not perfect! It’s not healthy to pretend otherwise. I have flaws, like… did it occur to you that I might be as uncertain about your feelings for me as you were about mine for you? I might think I see something there but be scared to act on it in case you didn’t feel the same way? Did it occur to you that after years as the only human aboard this vessel… I might not trust my sense of when a beautiful woman is sending me signals? Did it occur to you that I might have been scared?!”
I am dumfounded for a moment…and then I kiss him. His lips are so hot against mine. I wrap all four of my arms around that chest and knead them into the hard muscles of his back. Fuck! The effort required to get those workhardened, deathworld muscles to demonstrate even a little bit of pliability is insane! He kisses me in return, fierce and passionate. He pulls me closer by my lower back! I attempt to push him over onto my bed but find that the ease with which I manhandled him into this room has utterly evaporated. He laughs, the vibrations permeating my face. Breaking from our kiss he looks piercingly into my eyes and says “Did you really think you dragged me in here? You think I didn’t see your door being open as suspicious? Did you think I couldn’t hear you lurking, even with my puny ears? You think I couldn’t smell you? You smell like cinnamon, blueberries and vanilla, by the way. Not sure if that’s natural or a perfume but it’s very pleasant! I let you bring me in here because I was curious. I’m glad my curiosity has been rewarded. Now, let me teach you the proper way to manhandle someone!” At this, he picks me up.
His hands are on my arse… Victor Taylor has his hands on my arse! My thoughts race as he slams me into the wall with enough force to drive the air from my lungs. His right palm crashes into the wall, missing my left ear by centimetres, with a force that makes my attempt earlier look pitiful, like a cap gun next to a canon!
Gasping for breath I look into his eyes and say “Victor… tie… me… up…”
He frowns and says “Tuun, we’re both very emotionally char…”
“I don’t give a shit, Victor! I’ve just been told that my dream guy likes me too and shares my fetish… I want this to be perfect so please… tie me up? Make me yours? I want to surrender. I don’t want to be allowed to make any decisions. Make my dreams come true and tie me up?”
He shrugs “As you wish!”
---Victor’s Perspective---
Is this right? Does she need a good dicking in bondage or a therapist? She clearly has rockbottom self-worth, am I taking advantage? She was very clear about wanting this, would it be wrong to refuse for her own good? Like, I don’t trust her? She generally seems pretty put together and OK at taking care of herself but… that tirade of a confession has clearly been bubbling up for some time as well as latching on to preexisting feelings of inadequacy.
Then she tips out her box of bondage toys onto her desk and all my inhibitions evaporate. Fuck that’s a lotta toys!
“Where did you get all that?” I ask, aghast.
She gestures to the nanoforge in the wall.
I’m shocked “You mean none of these have ever left this room?”
She nods, clearly embarrassed.
Hesitantly, I ask “Tuun, how did you get into bondage?”
“…Weeeeeell… you remember how I told you that I had this childhood fantasy of a handsome prince coming to rescue me…?” she asks.
“I remember. You told me that minutes ago.”
“Well, that was based on a lot of faerie stories my mums used to tell me, that featured captured damsels. I always pictured myself as the damsel but always had this irritating sense of disappointment when I got to the point in the fantasy where the handsome prince rescued and released me, I always sort of thought, ‘No, don’t cut me loose! I’m yours now! Take me yourself, you coward! Take me back to your castle as a prize!’ but it was just a nagging back of the mind thing until one day, in my late teens, I decided ‘Hey! You know what?! This is my fantasy and if I want the handsome prince to ‘rescue’ me by taking me back to his castle still tied up then that’s my business and no one else’s’. Then, when I got to university, I was flicking through some porn site and discovered a bondage video and was like ‘YES, that’s exactly it! Captive, helpless, powerless, owned, a thing to be used! That’s how I want to feel!’”
That’s shockingly similar to my own story of bondage discovery… only role reversed… with parents… and on a delayed agescale.
There’s a long silence, at the end of which I say “Uh-huh? And then?”
“…aaaaand then I got a job on the Bright Plume, got access to a personal nanoforge for the first time and designed and printed a bunch of toys and restraints based on ones I’d seen in Terran porn…?”
“So… no actual BDSM experience?” I ask, wryly.
“Does self-bondage count?” she asks, hopefully.
“No.” I answer, flatly.
“Then, no.”
“So you’ve never had the Talk?” I respond.
“Do you mean the Don Talk, I received from my elder sister? ‘When a mummy Don and a daddy Don love eachother very much…’ or the Human Talk I got from my Mums? ‘When a Human mummy and a daddy or two Human mummies or two Human daddies love eachother very much…’ or the Interspecies relations talk I got at university ‘when any two or more disparate members of the 33,972 known classifications of sapient species love eachother very much…’” she says mockingly.
“I mean the Bondage Talk…”
“I don’t think so… might have been in a vid or two but I usually just skip those boring interview bits at the beginning and end, sooo…” she responds, mischievously.
“Alright, Talk time!”
“Why do you know the Talk? I thought you said you…”
“I said I was alone, not celibate, plus I watch the ‘boring interview bits’!”
She pouts at this.
“OK, I’m going to give you the condensed version… you, as the sub, are in control…”
“But…!?” she objects.
“Let me finish!... What that means is, right now, you dictate what you want to happen, what you don’t want to happen and if, at any point during, you feel like you can’t continue, you use your safeword and we stop, immediately. During… I seem to be in control… I can treat you any way I please (so long as we’ve agreed it), I can ignore any objection to your treatment like ‘no’, ‘stop’, ‘please don’t’ but I only seem to be in control, I can’t ignore your safeword. If I ignore your safeword then it ceases to be bondage and becomes an assault. Do you understand?”
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“But what if I don’t want a safeword?! The whole point is to feel powerless! If I can escape at any point by using this safeword then where’s the fun!?” she pouts.
“The point is to feel powerless, not be powerless! Suppose you had a medical emergency and you were screaming to let you go so you could get it seen to and I didn’t understand that it wasn’t part of the game? What then? If you won’t have a safeword, we don’t do it!” I insist.
“Fiiiiine, give me a safeword.” she sulks, brattily.
“How’s ‘red’ for ‘stop’, ‘yellow’ for ‘slow down’ and ‘nuh-uh-nuhuh-nuh-uh-nuhuh’ for ‘stop’, if you’re gagged or your mouth is otherwise obstructed?” I suggest.
“Fine!” she exclaims.
“Repeat them…”
She sighs “‘Red’ for ‘stop’, ‘yellow’ for ‘slow down’ and ‘nuh-uh-nuhuh-nuh-uh-nuhuh’ for ‘stop’, if I’m gagged or my mouth is otherwise obstructed.”
“Good” I grant. “Now, any hard limits? Things you don’t want me to do, no matter what?”
“Don’t kill me, don’t permanently disfigure me…” she says, bored.
“We can take those for granted… anything else?” I ask.
“No, please just use me however you want! Use anything here.” she gestures at her desk.
“OK, anything you specifically want?”
At this, she thinks “…please fuck my throat at least once before you gag me, please blindfold me and tease me for some of it, please finish by cumming in my pussy? Other than that, dealer’s choice.”
I nod “Reasonable requests… I didn’t expect such language from you, for some reason.”
She raises an eyebrow “We’re about to engage in BDSM and you’re worried about my vulgarity? You know what, if it’s such a problem…” she grins “…why don’t you punish me for it!?”
I grin back “I think you mean ‘why don’t you punish me for it, Sir?’, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do, Sir!” she smiles, impishly.
I step forward and tear her top in half down the front with one hand, revealing an absolutely ludicrously erotic bra, that I strongly suspect she wasn’t wearing at the party, enclosing two of the most mathematically perfect breasts I’ve ever seen.
She gasps.
She was very definitely not expecting that but, if she really likes the top, she can just repair it in the nanoforge… plus… she did say ‘dealers choice’ and to ‘use her however I want’ and I wanted to rip her top open.
I start circling her as she stands in place, quivering in a mix of apprehension and excitement
“Sub slut… you appear to be wearing a destroyed top…” I say, affecting stern quizzicality.
“Yes…Sir.” she begins removing her top.
I lightly slap her arse. “Did I say you could remove it?”
She shakes her head “No, Sir.”
“Then why are you removing it?”
“I don’t know, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.”
I nod “Please remove your destroyed top.”
She complies, wordlessly. Revealing her four trembling shoulders.
“And… do you think a sub slut who can’t keep her top in one piece should be trusted to wear trousers?” I say picking up a riding crop from the desk.
“No, Sir.”
I smile, devilishly “Then… remove them.”
“Yes, Sir.”
As she removes her trousers, revealing gorgeous midnight blue legs and a pair of panties that match that ridiculous bra, she says “This unworthy slave asks that you hear her request, Sir.”
I nod with faux magnanimity “Out with it…”
“She would like to refer to you as ‘Master’ instead of ‘Sir’, Sir.”
Wow, is this really her first experience with BDSM?
“I’ll excuse your impertinence and allow you to call me ‘Master’.”
“Thank you, Master.”
“In return…” I say sternly “…you are going to stand there and not react as I use this riding crop on you. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Master.”
I have to be extremely careful, whipping her with a riding crop. If I go as hard as I would on a human I’ll really injure her, if I’m too soft it will be frustrating for her and she’ll feel like I’m coddling her on account of her species… which I would be, but it’s clearly a sore spot for her.
I tap her, it’s too soft, she doesn’t react apart from a slightly annoyed downward flash of her brow. I tap her harder, she tenses, that’s better. I tap her hard enough that she’s only just barely able to keep from reacting… perfect! I keep tapping her at that intensity for around 90 seconds. She’s clearly finding it thrilling to be constantly on the verge of crying out, knowing that’s not allowed. That’s good.
This is for her as much as me.
No… this is for her more than me!
I’m performing an act I’ve performed many times before, albeit on the girl of my dreams.
She is having a lifelong fantasy fulfilled by the man she says is the man of her dreams.
Tonight is about her.
“Now, slave…” I say switching from ‘slut’ to what seems to be Tuun’s preferred form of address. “…your Master would, very much, like to see your bare breasts… what shall we do about that?”
She hesitates, nervously, then braces herself to ask “May this slave remove her bra to reveal her pathetic tits for your enjoyment, Master?”
It’s all I can do not to snort derisively, her tits are some of the largest breast analogues I’ve ever seen on a sapient and would still be world class if she were Mouse’s size with the same proportions. They’re also so perfectly round and plump that the easiest way to draw them would be to use a compass to draw two thirds of a circle(!) They are, by far, the finest tits I’ve ever seen and calling them ‘pathetic’ is verging on immersion breaking. I manage to control myself and impassively say “You are granted permission.”
All four of her arms bend behind her, in a rather surreal anatomical display, before the bra’s tension is released and it falls down her upper arms to the floor.
She looks at me, nervously. I instantly twig that she is selfconscious about the differing anatomy of her nipples. Where humans have a nub, Don, apparently, have what can best be described as a fleshy brush. A dense cluster of vaguely conical filaments, each about 3mm wide and 8mm long, that form the rough size and shape of a nipple. They have the effect of making her look as if she’s wearing nipple tassels. They look fantastically sensitive! I wonder how she keeps them from chafing? It’s very far from the biggest surprise I’ve received while undressing a xeno for ‘extraspecies relations’ but she’s clearly insecure about how I’ll react. Those nipple analogues are going to need some reassuring attention.
I stride up to her and, taking her left tassel in my right hand, I gently tweak. She gasps, sharply. They’re even more sensitive than I suspected.
This will be fun!
I place my mouth on her right tit and begin licking the ‘tasple’ (as I’ve decided to christen them). She gasps, bites her lip and screws up her eyes. I really hope that’s a reaction of pleasure! It looks like it is but I would hate to think that she believes I’m punishing her for having unappealing anatomy!
I use my hands and mouth to stimulate her tasples for a few minutes before stopping and marching over to the desk. I find what I think I’m looking for.
I hold up what looks like a remote control with several large beads, stored in an inbuilt container, and ask “These beads are vibrators, slave?”
She nods “Vibrators, Master… and that remote control’s for them… Master…”
I smile and pick up a roll of tape that was included in Mt. Bondage-Toy.
I march back and tape two vibrators to the sides off each of her tasples, leaving them fully visible, I don’t want her to think I’m covering them up!
I then bend down and pull her panties down just enough to expose what… I think… is her clitoris… well, It doesn’t matter. I tape a vibebead against it. If it is then great, if not then it’s probably still somewhat erogenous and the frustration may be somewhat gratifying in its own right!
I’m hit with a new addition to her sweet-spice aroma, nutmeg. That must be the smell of her discharge.
It’s really not fair that Humans smell of Human body odour and Don get to smell of dessert! Though, perhaps I smell as pleasant to her as she does to me… She can’t see colour and she has tasples… perhaps her nasal anatomy is different too? Though, that also leaves the possibility that Humans smell more vile to her than we do to eachother…
I pull her panties back over the vibe (somehow, subs always look more erotic with that last shred of modesty left than they do when fully nude).
I slide the viberemote to its lowest setting and the beads hum to life. Her knees buckle and she almost collapses before steadying herself.
“Slave…” I start “…I can’t help but notice that… I’m still fully dressed… what would you suggest doing about that?”
Still attempting to cope with the new sensory stimulus she answers, shaking “…Your… *gasp*… devoted… *gasp*… slave… *gasp**shiver*…could…*gasp*…undress…*gasp*…you?”
Holding up my arms, I command. “Undress me, slave.”
Still trembling and clearly not having strength in her limbs she comes to me and, nervously, starts buttoning down my shirt.
I take care of myself… Well… I exercise but’ve also had a thorough education in the school of hard knocks, starting on the streets of South London and progressing into my career as a SO, then SS, then CSS.
The result is that I am fantastically muscled but also horrifically scarred. But, according to Tuun, she finds both highly appealing. The sunscreen incident was, in part, me trying to put her off me (I did also need sunscreen on my back but didn’t need to ask Tuun), it appears to have had the opposite effect.
I try to seem confident and self-possessed as my muscled, scarred torso and arms are revealed. She’s clearly appreciative.
She next unbelts my trousers and drops them to the floor. I’m a little self-conscious about my lack of body hair. When I was at university, I decided to get a procedure to induce permanent, neck down hairlessness, as I thought body hair was really fucking gross.
In the years since, lack of body hair has disappointed more than one lover. Tuun doesn’t seem to mind… in fact… she’s hairless too… I hadn’t even noticed. I’m, mentally kicking myself for my inattention while lifting up my feet so she can remove my socks.
She goes to pull down my hipsters when I stop her.
“Kneel down and fold your lower arms behind your back, slave. Cross your wrists between your lower shoulderblades.”
She complies. If I were a religious man, I would thank my deities for the sight of, ASO Tuun “Elf”, the girl of my dreams, instantly complying and waiting for me to tie her up.
I pull a coil of inconceivably smooth rope from the pile and begin tying her lower arms together. It’s an interesting indication of her novicehood that she had the nanoforge print such smooth rope. Smooth rope feels nicer against your skin but also comes untied so much easier. ‘Well… that just means I’ll have to tie her tighter’ I think, with a maniacal grin.
I was incredibly embarrassed at the time but have never been more glad of the shibari evening class I took while Cap was sponsoring my SO training at Westminster College.
I attended every class with a beetred face which lasted hours before and after but, had I known at that point what Tuun would look like with a shibari cobweb enclosing her lower arms and threaded between her fantastic tits, I would have had my head held high and a smile on my face!
I think about using an armbinder from the collection to enclose her upper set of arms but decide it would ruin the aesthetic. I pull her upper arms into the same position as her lower, just 15cm higher, and begin working them into the lattice.
I stand up, not giving any further instructions to Tuun. She waits dutifully.
With one hand, I lift her deskchair and place it in front of her.
“Now… slave… I believe you said something about… ‘fucking your throat’?” I say, pulling down my hipsters and revealing my rock hard cock.
---Tuun’s Perspective---
He’s so big! I can’t! I’m dying! I’m going to suffocate!
It’s all I can do to keep using my prehensile tongue to stimulate the monster in my mouth and try to keep from, reflexively, pricking it with my long canines, as he dilates the sphincter-muscles, at the back of my throat, with his girth!
He took me by my ears at first but, seeming to quickly realise how much that hurt me, he switched to using his two hands to grasp the sides of my head, cradling the base of my ears, between his thumb and palm, instead of using them as handles.
I turn my glowing eyes up to him with a pleading expression.
If he notices, he gives no reaction.
After what seems like an eternity, he ejaculates.
Thick ropes of his seed trickle down my throat. I swallow, with a mix of relief and glee.
I can’t count the times I’ve come already, since the crop, the nipple licking, the vibes and the throat fucking. I believe that the throat is not an erogenous zone, for humans… but have had some conflicting reports…
He slowly withdraws his monstrous cock from my mouth. As it elastically springs, past my lips, to swing between my eyes, I can’t help but dismay at the fact that, by my request, I’m going to have that in my pussy… soon… unless I use his stupid ‘safeword’!
“Now…” he says “…I think you said something about gagging you… but… I’ve got an idea for that… stand up!” he says, imperiously.
I can’t imagine what standing would have to do with gagging me but… I’m the slave here… so I comply, pitifully.
After I stand, he follows suit.
He rips my panties off in one fluid motion. Will he not be satisfied until I have no clothes left?!
Wait… what’s he doing?… Why is he balling up my panties?
“Open your mouth...” he says.
I’m helpless but to comply.
He stuffs my soaking wet, destroyed panties into my mouth and forces it shut. I can taste my own secretions. They’re not pleasant. Not like him. Why does he taste and smell so good?! It’s not fair!
“Wait there. Don’t move. Don’t open your mouth.” he says, sternly.
I comply.
When he next reappears, he is holding my panelgag which has snap-fasteners for a blindfold piece and a bit that’s a perfect mould of the inside of my mouth. The bit has space for my tongue to squirm around it, indents for my canines and is wide enough to force my mouth open to the very edge of comfort.
“Open your mouth.” he says with cruel glee.
I open my mouth and he forces the bit in. I really didn’t design it for use in conjunction with a pantygag but… there’s just about enough space for my tongue and my panties to sit around my ergonomic bit.
He fastens the straps, deftly, without fumbling.
“Wait…” he says, simply.
I comply.
After a few moments time he says “You may turn around.”
I turn around and see that the chair he just used as a throat fucking throne has had my vibe wand taped to it, the business end sitting exactly where my soaking pussy would rest.
He cups my arse with his left hand and, with his right, slides my largest dildo inside me.
“Mmmmmphh!” I squeal.
“Sit.” he commands, imperiously.
I sit, nestling the bulb of the vibewand between my drenched pussylips.
“Wait…” he says, simply.
I wait.
He begins by tying my feet to the legs of the deskchair, he moves on to tie my hips to the base and back rest such that, try as I might, I will not be able to wriggle my stuffed pussy away from the vibe end, finally he works his bondage magic to secure my armbindings to the backrest.
am I certain it isn’t Humans who’re the spider people?
I struggle, experimentally. I’m bound in place and there’s nothing I can do about it.
When I see Victor next, he is holding my headphones (which… are not a bondage toy but… were on the desk, I suppose) as well as the snap-fastening blindfold panel with its foam, nanoforged, ergonomic render of my middle face on the inside.
“I believe… next… you said you wanted to be blindfolded and teased…” he says, with Loki’s own grin!
“Mmmphhhh!” I protest, as the blindfold comes to rest against my eyes and I hear and feel the *pop* *pop**pop* of snap-fasteners being closed against my right temple, left temple and the bridge of my nose.
Then he places the headphones over my ears… and turns on the noise cancelling.
…Silence…
My entire world is now touch and taste.
Robbed of my sight and my hearing, I become hyperaware of the bulb of the vibe in my soaking pussy, the irregular swells and ebbs of vibration of the beads against my nipples and clit, the straps of the harness gag around my head, the taste of my drenched panties, in my mouth, the feel of the moulded foam, against my eyes, the ropes against my ankles, hips, arms and chest.
Then the vibewand buzzes to life.
Í nafni Óðins!
I moan… a lot.
It’s a good thing I engaged the privacy field!
Wait… did I engage the privacy field?!
Why did I make it human strength!?
I’m going to die here!
I start panicking.
I briefly consider using the gagged safeword.
Then I calm… this was what I wanted.
I’m captive, like I wanted.
Powerless, like I wanted.
Helpless, like I wanted.
I’m owned, a thing to be used.
And Victor is the one who has me… like I desperately needed.
I endure for what could be minutes, hours, days or centuries as every inch of me is probed with spikewheels, teasers, hands, tongue (tongues?) and my nipples and stuffed pussy are vibed.
After what feels like an eternity of sensory deprivation, I feel the snap-fasteners unpop and the blindfold is pulled away.
He lifts the noise cancellors off my head.
“…ow, lets. Have a look at what else is on this desk… Shall we?”
His right hand, that I now know the power of, hovers… with indecision over the collection.
Then it goes in a direction I wasn’t expecting.
He picks up my holopad from the desk… where I left it.
Wait! No! Stop!
“MMMMMMMMMPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHHHHH!” I scream.
He can’t! He’ll hate me if he finds out what’s on there! Forget losing the love of my life, forget losing a better paying job than I could have hoped for, forget losing a better group of friends than I’ve ever had, forget losing the Cuddle Puddle! He’ll want me put in prison if he sees them!
“Let’s see if we can finally have that movie night…”
He begins scrolling through my film files.
“NNNNNNGHHH! PPPPPLLLLSSS!” I plead.
Should I use the safeword? Stop it right here!?
“Ahhh! A file with my name on it!? That sounds promising.”
Too late.
He opens the file to reveal, dozens of different animations I’ve made of him fucking me in various different bondage positions. The first is datemarked to the evening that I took residence on the Bright Plume.
“Wow! Tuun…!”
“MMMMMMMMMMMMPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
“These are really impressive!”
Wait, what?
He doesn’t want to send me to prison for making creepy bondage videos of us before we were together?
“Well…” he says, flicking one of the choicer videos to a fullwall display “…you enjoy… I’ll be right back with popcorn!”
Wait, NO! Don’t leave me alone with my shame!?
“NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!”
He throws on my dressing gown and leaves the fucking room!
I moan pitifully, pathetically, as I watch my almost perfect animated render of Victor fuck an almost perfect animated render of me on the wall of my bedroom.
The progress bar tells me it’s been ten minutes but it feels like ten years!
He comes back.
He has popcorn! He actually got popcorn! The bastard!
He reclines on my bed, tossing popcorn into his mouth while I struggle to keep conscious against the stimulation of my body and mind.
Finally… mercifully… the video ends and he shuts off all the vibrators.
I can’t count the number of times I’ve cum… is it possible to cum a thousand times in one night? Would it kill you? Did I die?
He throws off my dressing gown and steps to my pleasure throne.
He unbinds my feet then my hips and arms from the chair and removes the dildo from my pussy with a vile *Shlorp*.
Then he grasps the rope between my breasts with one hand and, cleanly, lifts me into the air! It doesn’t seem to take more effort than it would take me to lift a backpack!
I squeal and writhe but he calmly rests his other hand on my hip and pulls me to rest against him.
“Now…” He says, quietly “I believe you said you wanted me to cum in your pussy to finish.”
I’m terrified. I can’t, please! No! I’m spent!
I consider using the safeword I didn’t want for the third time!
Then, I resolve myself, I am going to take that cock inside me… no matter what!
He smiles, as if he could read every thought I just had, and inserts himself.
---early next morning---
I wake up with Victors arm around me… part of his ‘aftercare’.
I wiggle around to face him and of course he’s already awake.
“Hey” he smiles.
“‘Hey’, yourself!” I smile.
“Listen…” he says.
Oh, no!
“I’m going up to the medical room… to check on Cap but…do you want pancakes, first?”
I feel my body awash with relief.
“I… would…love pancakes!” I say, giving him an appreciative kiss on the nose.
There’s a brief silence before he says. “Sooooo…”
Stop doing that! You’ll give me a heart attack!
“…you realise that everyone’s going to know you’re a ropebunny if we announce ourselves the morning after I got exposed as a rigger, right?!”
Oh, shit!
“You’re right!... could we maybe keep it a secret, just long enough that there’s some mystery?”
“Sure thing!” he smiles.
We dress and make our way to the kitchen.
As the door slides open we’re met with four loud pops and four loud *toooooots* as Mouse, Samus, Mage and Cookie let off party poppers and blow party blowers.
Beside them are Sam and Fluffy.
Behind them is a sign that reads ‘CONGRATULATIONS!!!’
On the table in front of them… are six servings of pancakes.
---Tcakqaal’s perspective---
I look at the coil of rope I’ve just had my nanoforge produce.
Victors explanation of his ‘[kink]’ has really stuck in my mind.
I call out to my mate “Qorak…? Would you be up for… an experiment?”