The Ring
This is one-off porn. That means I didn't put a lot of effort (read: any) into editing it. It was at least written with a spell-checker turned on.
I had a hard time figuring out what sort of kinks actually apply to this story... it's... weird. Includes: solo, bondage, mind-control, magic, orgasm-control. Probably other stuff that I can't figure out how to explain with out big spoilers. Read at own risk.
This was inspired by a piece of art. However, it was written with zero consultation with the artist, so I'm not linking to the art. They have absolutely no responsibility for the content of the story, so don't blame em for it.
_The Ring_
He was in the middle of what might be a meadow when that nagging voice in his head urged him to stop. With it covered in snow all he could really be sure of was it was a bare patch in the forest he had been hiking through. It was not so much words as the sudden realization that this was the place for the next step in his journey.
He knelt, and began digging, first through the snow, and then the earth underneath it with a little spade he had brought just for this very purpose.
It was all preordained. Planned in the most careful detail. Yet, it was not his plan, he knew that. It was the plan of the Ring. Given to him in fantasy over so many months. Dominating his mind day and night, until he could do nothing but give in, and live it out. No matter the cost.
His hole dug he undid the tie holding his robes together, and undressed there in the snow. It was bitterly cold, something he had felt the bite of all the way here. He wore nothing under the robe, and had felt the cold on his pawpads. It whisped through the folds up his legs and to his groin. Yet he was not chilled. His pawpads had not grown numb. The sensations were all fresh to him. As the rope parted his nipples met the air and stiffened causing him to gasp .
As he exhaled a soft moan creating a puff of white before his muzzle the part of him that was a mage's apprentice marveled at the power of the artifact. He had not eaten in a week, and it could prevent him from suffering from the cold. All he had to do was drink.
The price, though...
The robe came off in his hands, baring his erect shaft. It pressed outward, with the lust he felt surging through him, right into the cold sending a shiver through him as the air caressed him so sharply. At the bast of the feline's length was the ring. Silver with gold trim and runes, expanded to just perfectly fit his base. It held his sheath back and presented him. He knew he could take it off any time. It would be a difficult walk back to the nearest town with his paws going numb, and it would be hard to explain. He could. It would be the sane thing to do.
He just didn't want to.
Not that he didn't have reservations about what he was doing. Certainly he did. He was giving up everything to live out this fantasy that infested his mind. This was a turning point, as well. With out the meager clothing he had brought, he would freeze to death before he got anywhere warm. Walking away from them would leave him entirely at the mercy of the ring.
He finished burying his clothing, covering them with dirt and snow as best he could. He could feel that desire swelling in him as he looked at the spot. The disbelief coupled with lust he could barely believe. His shaft grew wet at the slit, only his body heat keeping it from freezing there.
The young leopard got up and walked away in a new direction, the spots of his sleek young body contrasting with the snow all around him. It started to snow, and soon, he was certain he could not find that spot again.
It was madding, the cold licked at him, teased him, made him ache and need all at the same time. Before the ring his nipples were not much more than dark spots mostly hidden by his fur. He didn't take much pleasure from them. Now, the slightest touch or breeze would make him yearn for more.
All the spots one might find sensitive had become so, and those that were before, were maddeningly so. Caressing his balls could bring him to release now. His shaft... he could not touch it himself any more, it was too sensitive. Not that he had any need to any more.
The cold air alone was causing him to grow needful of release. He stopped falling to his knees, his fur covered in snow in places, and pleased softly, "please, make me cum." The answer was in part words, in part just knowing. "You will cum only when your sacrifice is complete."
He could bring himself to release himself, nothing was stopping him. He didn't even consider it though. It wasn't the same any more. He needed what only the ring snug around his erection would give him. Release beyond imagination, that no hand, no mouth... nothing else could give.
He adjusted the pack on his shoulder that was all that he had left, and with a groan of frustration got up and picked up his pace.
For two more days he walked like this. Not sleeping, not eating, just stopping at each stream he found to break through the ice and drink cupped handfuls of water. He occasionally begged and pleaded for something to hold him over through the frustration. Each time he was told no, and images of what he must yet do played through his mind furthering his frustration.
When he spotted the place finally he was surprised at how perfect the image in his head was. He knew it. It felt familiar. He was also excited, so close to his goal. So close to the release he desired, and to the fulfillment of his every dream.
He was also terrified of what that meant.
It was all that remained of a once mighty castle. None of it stood taller than himself now. Just piles of stone from another age in vague shapes that hinted at what it used to be.
He knew those snow covered shapes. Walked through them with purpose, to find a depression, the corner of two walls that met just so. There he dug through the snow, and uncovered the vines that lay sleeping under it. He parted them carefully and was rewarded by blackness beyond them.
Need hit him like a wall. A whispering voice in the back of his head, sounding more eager than he had ever heard it, praised him. "Good boy. You are almost there." He could not help himself, he ran his paws over his chest and pinched his cold aching nipples and moaned loudly. It made his shaft jerk and squirt pre into the snow in a long line before he was reminded he had more to do. "Inside. You are close to your reward."
He pulled apart the stiff vegetation enough to worm through, tugging his pack along with him. He had to tuck his shaft with one hand to keep it from catching, and then he was in the dark, on a stone floor, looking out a window at the sky. He knew he would not see that again, now. That sent a shiver of fear and need through his young frame that made his tail twitch.
The pack was opened, and he pulled out the torch and tinder box. It took some effort to light the torch in the bitter cold. Once lit, he could see the old half collapsed room that he was in. Just as he imagined it, night after night. And there was the archway leading deeper into the catacombs below this long abandon ruin.
He left everything but the torch now, and moved deeper into the earth.
It took what felt like hours to work his way through the maze. The path he knew, and it felt like he was slipping into a dream. Living it out. The dream he had orgasmed to a thousand times, the only thing that gave him pleasure any more.
Those thoughts had started consuming him slowly after he found the ring. It was in a box in a storeroom, discarded as useless. A magical artifact that no one could divine the purpose of. Yet when the feline's curious fingers found it, it sent a rush of pleasure through him. He had taken it to his room. He was not sure at the time why he thought of placing it on his shaft that first night, but the desire it fed him made for the most intense climax he had ever had. At least, then.
Night after night he used it to put himself to sleep. Night after night what he thought about as he touched himself became slowly more clear, consistent. In time he came not from touching himself, but just drifting in that fantasy, and caressing this or that part as his body grew more sensitive. Gradually, slowly, so he didn't realize it.
Not until it was too late anyway.
The spot he stopped at looked like any other stone wall in the place. Just one bit of the wall looked odd, a wider stone bridging a smaller one underneath it on the bottom of the wall. He leaned the torch on a fallen stone, and sat with his back to one side of the narrow passage, and put his feet against the smaller stone. It was large, and heavy, but with much straining he was able to push it back into the wall.
He kept at it until his feet had vanished into the hole to his knees, and then pulled out, and got the torch, and poked it through while he laid on his belly. The passage was there, just as he imagined. He also squirmed with a moan as his erection pressed to the stone.
He carefully found a spot inside where he could lean the torch against the wall of the hidden passage. It was going to be a tight fit. Fortunately apprentice magicians are not known for their bulk, so he was eventually able to get his head and shoulders through, and pull himself into the passage beyond.
When his hips sought passage, he accidentally scraped his shaft against the stone. It made him cringe, and nearly climax. He reached for himself, and then stopped. It would just be a hollow frustrating tease at what he truly desired.
And he was so close now to his goal.
He looked at the stone he had pushed through. It was wider on this side. A wedge of sorts. When he pushed it back into the wall, it would not be able to go all the way through the hole. He also knew that it would sink far in enough he would not be able to get a grip on it once he pushed it into place.
It didn't matter that to leave now would be to die in the cold, this was locking himself in his cell. A whole new step. Just as in those fantasies, he grew so aroused thinking about it, and being terrified about it. Why did the fear make him so aroused he shook? Was it just the ring, or was this really what he wanted.
"Do it, boy."
The little urging helped. Reminded him he was not alone. Not exactly anyway. He found a place to wedge himself, and push. It took work, but with much panting, there was a very final sounding thump.
He inspected the stone. Just as he had envisioned it. He was trapped.
His moan echoed in the small passage, making him realize that he had made it.
It was not far from there. It was a natural set of caves. Some of the passages had been widened, but still often required him to crawl. He could hear running water now from the chamber he sought.
Then he found it. He placed the torch in old bracket in the wall that he knew would be there, and stared. There was the underground stream that ran off into a hole, there was the alter that he would spend the rest of his days on. There was the skeleton left by the last victim of this ring. He wonder who had created this place. Was it made by the first victim?
The stream entered the cavern from above in several small falls that all landed on the square stone that was leaned back at an angle. The bleached white skeleton was shackled to it by four chains, each looking brand new. He knew the strange shackles, and he slipped a finger inside to trigger the release on them one at a time. At some point the skeleton disturbed by his meddling crumbled into the stream, to be carried off by the water.
He stepped into the falling water, and stood in the freezing cold stream. The cold made him shiver, but still, he didn't feel cold inside.
He bathed his fur, carefully and slowly. He was not going to spend the rest of his life covered in dust and dirt. He thought to himself that it was a silly bit of pride for what he was condemning himself to.
There was no going back, not now.
It was time to claim his reward.
He straddled the stream with his back to the smooth stone surface, and he bent over. He wondered if this is why the thing had responded to him. Did it take a cat to be flexible enough to restrain himself like this? Even so his groin ached with the stretch.
He took one of the shackles in his hands, and examined it. Two curved rounded fingers on one side, a single one on the other, forming a talon-like grip for the limb. It had a ratcheting mechanism inside it, and the little release lever that had to be pulled into the middle of the area. Right where his ankle would be.
It could not be removed while he was still in one piece, as he knew full well.
A knot formed in his stomach as he placed it around his ankle, and slowly closed it until it was snug around his limb. He had done it. He could not move more than a few feet around the alter now even if he wanted to.
Water dripped off his face and ran over his back and rear as he moved to the other ankle, and secured it, with his legs wide spread. The growing helplessness made the cold quite forgotten to him.
He leaned back onto the stone slab, and felt the water pouring over his face and chest, right onto his stiff nipples. It poured onto his belly and around and over his erection and ballsac. It made him moan and writhe in pleasure on the slab.
But no, he could not let himself just climax that way. It had to be done. He was so close.
He could barely reach the wrist shackles above him. He could pull them together above his head, but they would not allow him to touch himself once secured. Most importantly, they would not allow him to reach that ring on his shaft.
His fingers trembled as they closed the first cuff into place... and he played with it for a time, trying to reach in and get the release to give. But it was no use. It could not be pulled far enough with his wrist in the way. It was exactly what he expected. Permanent.
One more.
He took it in his chained hand, and held it over his last free limb, and watched the flickering torch light play over the metal. There was already no hope of freedom, but this would take away his only hope of any control of his life.
He squeezed it slowly shut, and then let his arms fall out to the sides, resting their weight on the chains that held them spread. He looked down at his nude water-slicked body, and his hard needy shaft. Held helpless and spread like this he found the sight of himself so arousing. He also knew it would be one of the last sights he ever saw as the torch would burn out soon.
That little voice sounded so pleased with him as it said, "good boy... good slave... now know true pleasure."
The fantasy had not prepared him for the truth. He already thought he was at the peak of his need after having wanted to cum for so long, but he didn't know the half of it. Soon he was struggling against the chains and crying out with desire. He made feral sounds, begging, demanding cries as the water caressed him like some frigid lover and his body responded out of his control.
Finally, he climaxed, screaming at the top of his lungs, his smooth body jerking out of control against the chains. It lasted longer than he could ever imagine. It was stronger than he thought possible. He was left gasping for breath.
But it was only the beginning.
The need started to build again, quickly. He had little time to think about what it meant. That he would spend the rest of his life like this. Powerless to stop it. Feeding the rings bizzare demonic wants by writhing helplessly in extacy. He would never age physically, he would look and feel like this for a hundred years. Until his heart just gave out.
He wondered for just a moment how long this would seem like a good idea.
Then he could think no more as he came again, shooting long strings of seed into the streams of water raining down on him.
Over the years the farmers told stories of the place. Cursed and haunted they said. Many fanciful stories were concocted as to why and what happened there. None came close to the truth. A few braver souls would explore the catacombs, and they would all swear they heard faint echoing moans, screams, begging, and sobbing. Whispers in the dark, with the source never found.