The Fae’s punishments
Never underestimate the Fae’s tendencies for trickery
An old vignette for Arcane :3
The Fae’s punishments
Never underestimate the Fae’s tendencies for trickery
For a single moment, for a single instance, the hand holding his head released its grip.
For a second, his head was released, and he could pull back and cough. He coughed, he spat, he gargled, as for once, he could breathe freely.
Air during that ephemeral freedom tasted like nothing else. It was pure, perfect, free. He could breathe and feel something unadulterated rush through his nostrils, tingle his nose, and go down his lungs. It was freedom given flavor; it was the richness of life itself…
And then, the hand grabbed his head again, shoving him back.
On either side of his head, the sweaty buns were squeezing his cheeks. The same sweat dripped all over his face, from his forehead down to his nose and lips.
The fragrance was strong and musky, making every breath difficult and powerful on his nose.
But so was the taste of ass, raw and meaty, as it was pressed against his lips and his tongue extended onward.
The odor, the taste, it was something he’d never guessed he would ever taste in his life. And yet, here he was with his head shoved against a Unicorn’s asscrack, unable to pull back.
More than that, even if he managed to yank his head away, it was solely to breathe before someone else forced back on this… Between the buttcheeks, right against the flavor rim, he was forced to suck, lick, and titillate with his mouth.
A rim that opened under his touch, inviting him to the even muskier inside and to sample the sultry and warm hole itself.
“Is he done?”
“Heh. Dunno, he didn’t beg when I pulled his head out.”
“Dude. You should put more emphasis!”
Then, another hand landed on his neck. At that moment, his nose itself was pressed inside the asshole, forced to inhale the raw but clean scent while his mouth was practically inside that orifice.
So many sensations were hitting at once, so many flavors, so many shocks through his psyche. And yet, it was but his head.
“Yeah. Look at Davis. He is working hard!”
Working hard? Oh, it was a euphemism. As he was forced to breathe and worship someone’s ass, Davis was hardworking on him. The Satyr, the head shaved and beard braided, was at work by holding onto the legs.
The Fae’s hands held him so that his legs remained wide open, so that his muscles couldn’t clench and fight back… And so that flared cock was pressed inside his hole.
His hole had long since given up trying to block the path. The entrance was wide, gaping… And certainly oozing cum that had been pumped inside him so many times. So much so that he wasn’t sure how many had spent their time fucking him until his sphincter looked like a glazed, vertically split asshole. Until his asshole could only be considered a cunt for the fae to use.
He didn’t know why or how it had happened.
He had a plan: use the portals through the Fae realm to move his army through relatively shorter distances. It should have been perfect, working well. And yet, the moment he opened the portal… Something yanked him inside.
His armor had been stripped, discarded, found again, turned into toys, and inserted within him many times. His blade had been melted and was now a part of the alloys used for the many piercings on his body.
His pride? He wasn’t sure he had it again.
Not when he had been made a mockery of. Not when he’d been fucked for so long he couldn’t tell the time or the day. Whenever he felt he was about to drop from exhaustion, they would feed him that golden liquor that kept him awake and excited.
It tasted like honey yet was less syrupy and had a different aftertaste with each sample. But how many times did he drink it? He gave up counting after the nineteenth time.
He couldn’t tell how many times they fucked him… Or how many days he’d been kept awake.
His mind was slipping. But so was his cock inside another sultry and soft hole. He didn’t know if it was another portal trick or another satyr. It was often the former, but could just as well be the latter.
The result was that his cock, rigid like steel and needy, was sucked on by a sphincter that practically tugged on his foreskin. It tugged on the Prince Albert and the Jacob’s ladder. It even forced a bit on the sounding rod that had been inserted through his cock, keeping it rigid and adequate to be ridden, even when he was exhausted.
Sure enough, it seemed that was another Satyr. The cloven hooves hit the ground around. And the sound, muffled by the clenching asshole and the clapping buttcheeks on either side of his head, reminded him he was… In a copy of his castle. A copy except everything had been turned into derision: the tapestries depicted obscene scenes, the decorative armors sported bulges, the chairs had dildos attached to them, and it would continue.
“Fuck, he’s tonguing me good.”
“We told you he can learn.”
Learn. Oh, he had learned.
He learned to lick a rim until it glistened.
He learned to kiss an orifice until the tight pucker opened.
He learned to use his tongue to probe the depths.
And it was only the beginning.
He’d learned to take a cock, to endure that flared tip that was rummaging and stretching his guts beyond what was commonly admitted as possible. In fact, his guts were so swollen with cum, he looked more like a living keg or a barrel. Every movement, even the smallest, was to produce many sloshing sounds and to have the weight shift in either direction, reminding him of the many ejaculations he’d received.
The faintest of movements could count… Much like his fingers that had been bound and attached. Gloves had been put on, with a soft, jelly-like substance molded against his palm to make his hands no different from another fuckhole.
And now, his arms were moving like contraptions, methodical and without a break.
Did it hurt? It used to. But after so many doses of the nectar, he couldn’t hurt anymore. Perhaps that was the desired result or not.
But pain was a foregone sensation, much like peace and respite.
Much like the sensation of cleanliness, since he was always coated in cum. From the top of his head to the tip of his toes, he was coated with cum. Even when they cast a spell to erase it… They would profusely wash him with their fluids until he smelled like a den of pleasure.
He could smell nothing but cum and fluids. He had not experienced anything but the numerous orgasms shaking his body, much like the one he was feeling when Davis, inside him, was pummeling his prostate while the other Satyr was riding his dick raw.
The pressure on his prostate was constant, whether from the outside with those massive dicks stretching him every time. And inside, from the rods they changed whenever they felt like it: ribbed, straight, undulating at the end.
Then, with a huff, his head was pulled out of that ass. His eyes met with the hairy white cheeks, with the purplish tail waving about that posterior. Then, he looked up to see the powerful white-furred back, the purplish mane. And then, the equine’s face that grinned back.
“Oh… Look at that, he looks so tired. Maybe he needs another dose.”
“No,” he muttered weakly.
“Shot! Shot! Shot!” suddenly cried the crowd. His ‘court’.
Sure enough, every Satyr and Unicorn had its coat of arms on his body, somewhere. But a coat of arms modified, so it now represented two dicks clashing. It was another of the many affronts, much like the crown he was forced to wear, made with balloons.
But then, as his asshole was getting filled by Davis, before the fae pulled out and another Satyr joined in, he was grabbed.
Not again was he rushed against a Unicorn’s asshole. Instead, he was to swallow another flared shaft, to have it pass through his lips, against his maculated tongue, by his uvula… And into his throat that bulged from the obscene penetration.
And… he was fucked. Face-fucked before the Unicorn almost sat on the floor while humping his throat at an impossible angle.
But that cock slipped in and out, forward and backward inside his throat, while delivering another dose of the nectar.
Sure enough, he heard the shouts, the cheers, the ruckus. His ‘court’ was cheering for the Unicorn, who was to give him more of the nectar and nothing else.
When he peered right, he even saw the many Satyrs that were stroking themselves, getting ready for their turns while the ‘Herald’ announced their names. Names that were drowned in the cheers, in the chaos, in the joy as… He could feel it. The renewed energy. The fire in his groin. His asshole again tightened and clenched to become as virgin as on his first day here.
And then… Here it was. The Unicorn pulled out, and another presented that ass to his face. Face that was pressed in between, forced to breathe that rancid smell again while being ridden… While being fucked… While being abused for what would be eternity.