#WOMEN WERE TAKEN AS SEX SLAVES

[jewishbarbies]

the idf is filled with rapists

[specialagentartemis]

in middle school during my Intense Greek Mythology Phase, Artemis was, as you can likely guess, my best girl. Iphigenia was my OTHER best girl. Yes at the same time.

The story of Iphigenia always gets to me when it's not presented as a story of Artemis being capricious and having arbitrary rules about where you can and can't hunt, but instead, making a point about war.

Artemis was, among other things--patron of hunting, wild places, the moon, singlehood--the protector of young girls. That's a really important aspect she was worshipped as: she protected girls and young women. But she was the one who demanded Agamemnon sacrifice his daughter in order for his fleet to be able to sail on for Troy.

There's no contradiction, though, when it's framed as, Artemis making Agamemnon face what he’s doing to the women and children of Troy. His children are not in danger. His son will not be thrown off the ramparts, his daughters will not be taken captive as sex slaves and dragged off to foreign lands, his wife will not have to watch her husband and brothers and children killed. Yet this is what he’s sailing off to Troy to inevitably do. That’s what happens in war. He’s going to go kill other people’s daughters; can he stand to do that to his own? As long as the answer is no—he can kill other people’s children, but not his own—he can’t sail off to war.

Which casts Artemis is a fascinating light, compared to the other gods of the Trojan War. The Trojan War is really a squabble of pride and insults within the Olympian family; Eris decided to cause problems on purpose, leaving Aphrodite smug and Hera and Athena snubbed, and all of this was kinda Zeus’s fault in the first place for not being able to keep it in his pants. And out of this fight mortal men were their game pieces and mortal cities their prizes in restoring their pride. And if hundreds of people die and hundred more lives are ruined, well, that’s what happens when gods fight. Mortals pay the price for gods’ whims and the gods move on in time and the mortals don’t and that’s how it is.

And women especially—Zeus wanted Leda, so he took her. Paris wanted Helen, so he took her. There’s a reason “the Trojan women” even since ancient times were the emblems of victims of a war they never wanted, never asked for, and never had a say in choosing, but was brought down on their heads anyway.

Artemis, in the way of gods, is still acting through human proxies. But it seems notable to me to cast her as the one god to look at the destruction the war is about to wreak on people, and challenge Agamemnon: are you ready to kill innocents? Kill children? Destroy families, leave grieving wives and mothers? Are you? Prove it.

It reminds me of that idea about nuclear codes, the concept of implanting the key in the heart of one of the Oval Office staffers who holds the briefcase, so the president would have to stab a man with a knife to get the key to launch the nukes. “That’s horrible!,” it’s said the response was. “If he had to do that, he might never press the button!” And it’s interesting to see Artemis offering Agamemnon the same choice. You want to burn Troy? Kill your own daughter first. Show me you understand what it means that you’re about to do.

[lalunanymph]

GRASSLAND ROMANCE

SUMMARY the strongest tribal chieftain sets the stage to claim his most priceless reward

WARNINGS prisoner of war!reader, slave!reader, tribal chief!sylus, first time, fight-to-death-trope, concubine!reader, oral sex, breeding, mentions of lactating, size kink, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of misogyny, bartering, winning her favor trope, loosely based on the new sylus myth card, mdni, 18+

DAWN SAYS it's daddy sylus's time hehehe second one down, 2 more to go !! sylus is my ult bias and I definitely wanted to go for more of a khal drogo x daenaerys vibe when I started this out, so keep an eye out for bit of dark content discussed here... that being said, will be cross-posting this to a03 soon so stay tuned! <3

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ZAYNE ⊱ XAVIER ⊱ RAFAYEL

The grasslands were not kind to those unfamiliar with its ways.

As a little girl, your grandmother would tell you stories of the fearless warriors traversing these bare lands in search of resources to plunder, steal and conquer. It instilled a sense of fear in you; a knowing instinct to never step out of line less you wanted to suffer the consequences of losing everything you loved.

The day you met Sylus was the day your short life came to its meaningless end.

Taken from your homelands to his tribe, you were relegated to cleaning tasks and cooking; trying to keep your head down and eyes off of you less you wanted to suffer fatal repercussions.

Your days living in sweet bliss were over; your childhood and girlhood gone in one fell swoop.

And yet, despite your best efforts to go undetected, you wound up catching the eye of the fearsome chieftain. His calls for you to his yurt could not be ignored.

You fully expected him to take advantage of your vulnerable state, using his position to conquer what remained of your dignity and hope. 

But, Sylus proved to be a different man behind his ruthless reputation.

A fan of music and wildland games, he often asked you to keep him company for the day, and when the nights got too cold, you were ushered into his private space, allowed to warm yourself with his brazier. 

The scent of moist rose and grapevine trimmings filled the air as you lounged right in Sylus’s arms, enjoying the warmth of his presence and the fire glowing brightly while snow and sleet raged outside of his yurt.

The fearless tribal chieftain was a relaxed man tonight, savoring the presence of his favorite concubine right in his lap. His large hands stroked your hair, fingers running through your locks. The robes he dressed you in were heavy yet comfortable, providing you shelter from the cold; a stark difference from the slave rags you were forced to wear during your earlier encampment. 

“What is on your mind, beloved?”

Beloved. Despite what everyone said or thought about you, Sylus saw you in a different light. A tender and cherished one.

You turned your head to gaze at him, a softness you reserved solely for him shining from your eyes.

“I was lost in my thoughts; thinking back to the time when I first got here.”

A dark look flitted across his face, and he fixed you with a prodding look.

“I know what happened was not ideal for you, beloved. But, you are safe now. I will not let anyone in this camp harm you.”

His promise was as good as gold in this world. Sylus was not someone who would mince words or give you false hope. Despite his stature as one of the most fearsome conquerors of this land, he was a man of integrity and word.

And yet… you couldn’t help the sadness eclipsing your features. 

The ceremonial choosing of his bride was coming up soon, and from the lines of women prepared for him, you paled in comparison. These women were trained from birth to please him, cook for him, and be the bearer of his children. They were thought in the grassland ways, something you were not familiar with.

The women chosen for him did not stick out like a sore thumb, nor were they foreigners of this land.

Each of them were meticulously handpicked to appeal to his tastes and desires; where you fit in, you had no clue. 

It wasn’t as if you were his tribe’s de facto pick. You were sure you weren’t on any of the elder’s lists, your fate relegated to being his concubine for life.

As if he could read your mind, Sylus tilted your face up to look him in the eyes. 

“Beloved, you are the only one for me. There is no one else in these lands I would rather spend my days with.”

You wanted to ask him why; what could possess a man like him to love a lowly woman like you?

But, you enjoyed his caresses on your cheeks and jaw; snuggled closer to him as the wind tore through the night, safe and secure right in his arms.

The next morning, you were pulled aside by one of the village elders, Enkh, as he looked you up and down. 

“My son needs a new wife after his old one died in childbirth,” scrutinizing you from head to toe, he fixed his beady gaze on you like a dishwasher studying a piece of vermin on a brass plate. “And you will do.”

The idea of being married to Enkh’s son, known as the most ruthless and cruel man in the entire tribe, filled you with unadulterated fear. You had no say in your fate, and spent the entire day wondering how to tell Sylus—the chieftain himself—of your dilemma.

But, you didn’t have to open your mouth and divulge the truth.

Sylus already knew.

He called you out to his tent, where some men who were sparring upped and left the second you arrived. In your hands, you held a pouch, given to you by Enkh’s wife before you left their yurt.

A symbol of choice for a woman about to be married, you were given explicit instructions to hand it to his son after his sparring win tomorrow. It was tradition for the winner to receive a wife as compensation, and from the thunderous look on Sylus’s face, you could tell he was not at all pleased about this latest development.

“They claimed you, just like that? Without my agreement?”

Despite not being his official concubine, everyone in the tribe knew of your position with the chieftain. You were virtually untouchable, and only higher up families like Enkh’s, could make the play for one of his concubine’s hands. 

This displeased your lover, who took it as an affront to his rule. 

But, he didn’t react the way you expected him to, with violence and malice as the forefront of his actions. 

Sylus led you to the heart of his yurt, where thick layers of felt and wool provided insulation from the chill. Dressed in traditional Bökh gear, he was preparing for the ceremonial sparring to begin when he heard word of your impending nuptials to Enkh’s son. He dragged you down to his side, letting you rest on the rugs and pillows surrounding the area before he shared what was on his mind. 

“Do you want to marry into that family, Y/N?” 

Instinctively, you shook your head. “No, Sylus.”

He nodded, pleased at your swift rebuke. “I am going to be honest with you—the only way we can circumvent both of our fates to marry different people is for me to participate in the fights myself.”

You gasped, wide-eyed at the revelation. “But, it’s unheard of. You are the chieftain!”

Rough fingers touched your face, caressing your cheek with a softness he only showed to you.

“I know, my beloved. But, think about the alternative. I do not want to lose you.” 

A grin stole across his handsome features, and he shot back: “If I lost, I’d be stuck here forever—in this limbo of never having you… but then again, could I really lose?” 

Unperturbed by his musings, you raised the stakes by straddling his lap, glaring down at him. In this position, he had to hear you out; he had to allow logic to take hold of his wilful mind. 

“Sylus, the rules of the game means that you have to steal the gem from your other opponent and then you can stake your claim. Are you sure you want to do this? You cannot back out once the games have started.”

The Grassland Festival, or the most important festivity for Sylus’s tribe that was happening in a few hours, was in tandem with the fighting ring for men to win the hands of their future wives. 

His red eyes, which shone like a grassland sunset, appraised your form astride his lap; soft and sure.

“My love, you severely underestimate my devotion to you.”

Turning your fates around, he flipped you back onto the soft pillows and rugs, a look of fond playfulness in those jewel-toned eyes.

“All I have to do is fight, yes? And I have never lost a fight.” 

His soft touch tucks a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. “You are the prize I must win, my love. I will do everything I can to make sure we stay together.”

Filled with happiness and the surety of his tone, you put your faith in what came next. 

Long and nimble fingers snuck to your waist pockets, where he retrieved the pouch given to you by Enkh’s family. 

“Hey—!”

You tried to reach back for it, but he held it from you, a smirk playing on his defined lips. 

“Is this what you are going to give the boy?” 

Warmth splashed across your cheeks as you tried to glare him down.

“Despite what you may think, you do not own every aspect of me, Sylus. I reserve the need to keep some secrets to myself.”

He hummed, clearly not believing you. “And yet, you spoke of the sincerity of our feelings. Isn’t this me being honest, little dove?” 

You sputtered, tripping over your refutes, and he rolled his eyes.

“Alright, love. Let me make it simple—”

He lifted you closer to him, letting you fall over his lap. The sudden proximity filled your senses purely with him; igniting sparks of heat across your entire body. 

“If someone were to hand the champion a pouch, should he take it?” 

He was teasing you, and it was clear he wasn’t planning to let up anytime soon. 

You huffed, trying to swipe it again. But, he was nimbler than you, yanking the pouch away from your outstretched hand. 

Sighing, you tried to pull him up, grumbling when you barely made him move an inch.

“Have you been training more?” You grumbled, eyeing his broad shoulders; the muscles stretching across his tanned skin. 

“Perhaps. Although as much as I have been honing my skills, I do still need someone to look out for me.” 

His smirk threatened to affect your entire composure, and you darted your eyes away, flushed and embarrassed at how easily he could get to you. 

The faith you had in him to win was astounding; there was a reason why he was known as one of the best warriors in the grasslands. 

“You’re the champion,” you grumbled under your breath. “Do you need me to watch your back?”

In response, Sylus’s smile softened around the edges, his red eyes taking on a tender quality. 

“Let me paint you a scene, love: I win the challenge, and then I get to be yours. How does that sound?” 

Tugging a stray lock of hair which fell loose from your braid, Sylus waited for your answer patiently. 

It was useless to try and dispute him. Whatever the strongest wanted, he would get—and he clearly wanted you. 

“Alright,” you responded softly, conceding with a smile. “If you win tomorrow, I will hand you my pouch. There is nothing you cannot do.”

Responding to your confidence, he chuckled softly, teasing you more by dragging you closer to him, enjoying your weight pressing onto his body.

“Or, we could do it together.”

He hummed, touching the hollow of your throat with his cool lips. Your eyes fluttered shut, trying to staunch your reckless sounds.

“The second I get that gem, you run up to me, crowning me as your chosen one and I respond back.”

Struggling to control your raging thoughts, you murmured: “Will it work—such boldness?” 

To answer your question, he smirked, finding your flustered expression and slight doubt adorable. 

“My, my, love. Are you doubting me?” 

The world flipped around, and suddenly you were thrown over his shoulder. You gasped, confusion mingling with surprised delight as Sylus manhandled you with practiced ease. He stepped past the plush pillows and rugs, opening the flap of his yurt to bring you out into the mellow morning. 

“Wh-what are you doing?” Your sharp inhale spurred on his laugh, his low and rich chuckle making you flush warmly. 

“Didn’t you tell me this before, love? Actions speak louder than words.” To your mortification, he was heading right to the middle of the courtyard, where spectators were already gathering to witness the fight. 

“Sylus—!”

You smacked his broad shoulders, but he wouldn’t let you down. Sylus already had a plan in mind and you were helpless to stop him. 

“Oh, love, relax,” he teased, taking long, purposeful strides towards the other villagers. “I need to show them I already have a lover. And since she won’t let me take her away…” you could plainly picture his cocky smirk. “... I’ll just have to take her myself.” 

The rest of the villagers stopped in their tracks when they noticed their chieftain walking towards them, a smaller woman in his arms. Elders dropped what they were doing to whisper under their breaths, their judgemental eyes trained on Sylus’s smug face and the look of mortification on yours.

“Sylus—”

He set you down in the front stand, tossing you a wink for good measure.

Whispers rushed around the arena like wildfire, catching aflame from the look of pure devotion in his eyes; a look reserved just for you. 

Enkh’s son, a hulking brute by the name of Altan, shot him a glare—insulted by Sylus’s blatant claim on you.

Motivated by his wrath, the tribal chief turned to the other man, raising a brow. 

“Altan, son of Enkh!” 

His voice boomed across the field, shocking you out of your mortified stupor. 

“You dare claim one of my concubines as your wife? Do you know what that entails?”

The atmosphere in the arena tilted towards a frenzy, the people inadvertently roped in to witness the showdown of the year.

Since ceremonial rites were read and sacrifices were made, the last agenda for today would be the warrior fights. Sylus took his spot in the ring, unafraid. The head monk, a calm man by the name of Bataar, whispered something to Enkh, who glared at you as if this entire ordeal was your fault.

You shrank back in your seat, attempting to hide your scorching cheeks behind your palms.

The fight began, and it was clear from the onset that it would be an unfair one. Sylus, whose expertise and years on the field, easily overpowered Altan, pinning him to the ground. A horn blared, and the winner was declared.

A stirring eagerness and relief moved you from your seat, and you didn’t care for customs or etiquette when you ran across the ring, jumping right into his open arms. Sylus lifted you off your feet with ease, spinning you around, his laughter mingling with yours. 

In his palm, he held the priceless gem he stole from Altan’s belt— a symbol of his opponent’s virility. Its capture meant that he had won the other man’s intended bride fair and square. He handed it to you, and right in front of his entire people, you proudly proclaimed your acceptance of his proposal—slipping the jewel right inside of your pouch and handing it to him. 

Triumphant, Sylus took your offered gift, tucking it in the lapels of his leather harness with a contented grin. 

The tribe elders were helpless to stop their strongest from claiming you, as was the custom of these rituals. 

Sylus had no hesitation when he slung you over his shoulder again, a conqueror who had rightfully won his beloved. 

He didn’t care if whispers of your status or his incredible defiance towards the elders would reach his ears; all Sylus could think about now was savoring this priceless reward he fought hard to obtain.

Bringing you back to his yurt, Sylus let the flap fall close behind him, a clear signal to the rest of the tribe that he intended to enjoy his winnings in peace.

Your back met the soft pillows and rugs, his broad build blocking out the rafters letting in warm morning sunlight; lost in the depths of his jewel-tone eyes.

They shone like precious rubies, far more valuable to you than any material item in this world. 

The feel of your palm stroking his cheek, your fingers playing in his hair, suddenly made his stomach twist into hard knots. They were impossible to unravel, a bowline loop which went on for eternity.

His breathing turned ragged, gaze going soft as he looked at you—really took you in.

The sight of his beloved—his bride—right here in his home, about to be taken and claimed by him, set his nerves ablaze more than any war cry ever could. 

Sylus moaned unabashedly when you tangled your fingers in his hair, bold enough away from the prying eyes of others to fall prey to the undeniable attraction you’ve felt for him since the first time you saw each other.

He lets you bring him in for a kiss, your lips sweeter than wildberry dew.

“Sylus…”

The possessive need to claim you flared in him when you called out his name.

Smoldering attraction turned into a wild, untameable blaze, threatening to consume him whole. 

Due to his rugged nature, he never had a woman this close to him, her touch a balm to his rough edges.

In your arms, Sylus was more than the fearsome tribal chieftain whose name could strike fear in any man’s heart. 

He was wont to your desires, an instrument of your love.

“Please,” you licked your lips, and his eyes followed the gesture with a blatant look of desire. “Kiss me.”

You didn’t have to ask him twice. Sylus captured your lips in a deep and passionate kiss, swallowing your moans whole.

Your tinier fingers in his hair tightened, bringing his body closer onto yours. He fought back a shiver from the force of his desires as his body covered yours completely, trapping you beneath him under his weight.

“My love, you are playing a dangerous game,” he growled, adoring how fragile and small you felt under his hulking mass.

Dragging your hands down the slope of his shoulders, you felt his muscles rippling under your touch; his broad frame and the layers of sinew forming his brawny build leaving you lightheaded.

“Oh, my love. The sight of you underneath me, looking so vulnerable and lovely,” his voice dipped lower, a hoarse edge taking over it. “... it’s driving me wild.”

Shying away from such a bold declaration, you bit your lower lip. “Sylus, will it hurt?”

Sensing you were speaking about the act of copulating, he took your hand, rubbing circles on your palm. 

“A little, but it is nothing you cannot handle. Besides, I will be with you through it all—I will not hurt you, my love.”

The idea of a ruthless tribal leader like him, promising some young slave girl that he would be gentle with her, was so far-fetched from your idea of what a conqueror was that you began to relax in his presence.

You trusted Sylus because he has proven time and time again how your comfort and safety were his priorities.

Especially when he was this close to claiming you.

Steady yet hasty hands slowly unraveled the lapels of your thick coat, his breaths tumbling out in silent huffs. Sylus’s large palms were warm—far too warm on your chilly body.

The great chieftain was a silent, nervous wreck when he glanced down at his beloved, watching her with soft eyes and reaching out to her with an even softer touch. 

“Sylus… please.” 

The cadence of his name on your tongue will never not be the sweetest thing he's heard in his life. 

You returned the gesture, removing his leather gauntlets, slowly stripping him off his warrior bravado to reveal the sweet and gentle man underneath.

“Please, what?” He whispered against your throat. Outside, the cool breeze rattled the rafters, but inside his yurt and in his arms, you were warmer than a butterfly in spring. 

You seized, back arching when he kissed a tender path from your neck to your bare chest. 

The sight of your hardened nipples and smooth curves whipped through him like a frenzy, and Sylus grew impossibly hard at the image of your sweet body, swollen with child.

His child.

The fantasies of your breasts filling up with milk, the slope of your belly gently curving with the promise of his heir… 

 His thin patience was hanging by a thread.

Sylus shrugged off his sheepskin pants, tossing it to the side of the yurt as he quickly worked on the lapels and hooks of your clothing. 

Once your smooth body was bare to him, Sylus’s gaze softened, his tone almost reverent when he said:

“You look beautiful, my beloved.”

You had not imagined your wedding night (or, in this case, morning) to be a tender affair.

Where every brutish belief you once held towards his people melted away with every tender touch of this gentle chieftain.

Sylus propped a pillow under your hips, careful to lean his full weight onto you. Your eyes fluttered shut, a moan seeping past your swollen lips when you felt his tongue glide across your breasts, taking his time to play with and suck on your nipples.

His mouth moved down your body, teasing you with whispery kisses.

Parting your thighs wide, you realized a second too late what he was doing until he slotted himself in between; mouth pressed to your pelvis.

“Sy—”

The protests fizzled out the second you felt his tongue parting through your folds, tasting the effect he had on you.

Low whimpers slipped past your mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Sylus… mhmm… s-stop—

But, he didn't relent. He glanced up at your flushed face, shaking his head. 

You can take it, beloved. Can't you? For me?

It wasn't the reluctance that set you back but the shame of such an intimate experience.

You had never experienced a man this close to your sensitive parts; the idea of him in this position itself was too much to bear. You should be worshiping him, not the other way around.

But, Sylus refused to listen to your pleas and moans—hellbent on pleasuring you.

His tongue traced patterns on your clit, drawing out more of your high-pitched whines. There was little doubt whoever passed by the yurts could hear your pleasured sighs. 

Sylus couldn't care less.

He wanted the whole tribe to know you were his;  that he had chosen you and you had chosen him.

His tongue delved deeper into your core, tasting your excitement. Some of it stained onto his face, his chin drenched with your juices.

Your hips rocked to the rhythm his tongue set, your moans reaching fever pitch.

Good girl. That's it. Show me how much you want it.

Sylus murmured, working you through your cresting pleasure.

It came like a rising high within you, soaring higher than any eagle could as you crashed to the ground, screaming his name.

Sylus tightened his grip on your thighs, doubling down on his efforts. Your mess stained his cheeks, his chin, driving his desire to a burning point.

He worked his way up your body, leaving kisses on every inch of skin his mouth could reach.

Finally reaching your lips, Sylus poured every bit of his devotion for you into this heated kiss, swallowing your moans and letting you taste him on his tongue. Strings of saliva connected your lower lip to his, hanging by a tenuous thread.

The heat of your cheeks would have burned you alive, the tension between your bodies rising to a feverish pitch.

Tenderly, he nudged your thighs to wrap around his defined waist, opening you to be taken by him.

The first stretch was accompanied by his lips on yours, coaxing you to relax and open up to him.

That is it… good girl… taking me so well…

The deeper he sank in, the more loud he was with his praise.

I adore you… you sinful, sweet girl… take me… take me good… 

Sylus!

Your cries reverberated across the sheepskin walls. It felt like drowning, your body sinking deeper into the plush woolen pillows.

Oh, oh… oh, right there…

He licked into the heat of your mouth, tracing the ridges of your teeth. 

There? Does it hurt? Do I make you ache?

Yes, you responded deliriously. Yes, yes and yes.

It was the kind of pain you could never forget, yet you desired it all the same. A masochistic plea of your body to be devoured and conquered.

Sylus raised himself up on his forearms, the bulging, rock hard muscles rippling with every exertion; his thrusts almost knocking you backwards if it weren't for his tight grip on your hips.

Every collision of his cock against a spot deep inside of you made your toes curl; leading you closer towards your desperate end.

Sylus—can't… close… 

It felt like a ball of tension growing bigger and tighter, growing uncontrollably hotter with every thrust, every heated whisper of his praise against your ear.

Sylus nipped your jaw, tracing his tongue against the curve of your lower lip.

His gentle insistence, coupled with his brutal thrusts made your body run hot and cold.

Goosebumps erupted across your skin. You were growing dizzier and hotter.

You gasp—fuck, fuck, this is too much—and he tells you just take it, darling.

Take it for me.

He nipped Your earlobe, pushing deeper against your body. 

Does it feel good? Are you close? 

Squeezing your eyes closed, you nodded.

Yes, Sylus… almost… 

Good, he traced his tongue across the heated Seam of your mouth.

Give it to me, darling. Let go for me.

One request. You gave into him.

“Yes, yes,” you shuddered, digging your heels into his lower back. 

Sylus groaned, expressions contorting into painful bliss when your walls contracted around him.

He worked you through them, letting you stab your nails into his broad back.

That's it, darling. Give it to me. Come undone for your husband. 

Husband. 

Husband. 

The word sent an unrestrained quake straight through your soul.

Yet, the reality was far sweeter.

Sylus slumped on top of you, spent after releasing ropes of warmth deep inside your quivering cunt.

Languidly, he rolled you onto his chest, skin pressed to warm skin. You were spent, soaked and still wrapped around him.

The act of consummation was over. You finally belonged to him.

And for the test of his days, Sylus would make sure to show you how much you mean to him; going above and beyond to declare his love. 

“I love you,” he slurred into the heat of your throat. “Always have. And from the very beginning.” 

You nestled closer into his side, feeling safe in the warmth of his arms, finally allowing yourself to embrace the reality of this powerful man’s infatuation with you. 

Amidst the vast and intimidating grasslands, you had ensured your survival as the feared chieftain's wife, with Sylus unwaveringly by your side.

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost on other websites and claim as your own. do not feed my content to AI.

[dolicekiss]

From Friend To Foe

PAIRING: Dark!Aemond Targaryen X Strong!fem!Reader

CONTENT WARNING: smut (18+, mdni), noncon, virgin!reader, possessive aemond, friends to enemies, childhood friends, reader is from house strong, dragon riding (also riding Aemond), unprotected sex (p in v), forced kissing, breeding, angst, threats, humiliation, reader has dark hair, hair pulling, slapping, cunnilingus, mention of forced marriage, attempted murder.

SYNOPSIS: Aemond and you were childhood friends, you being the daughter of a lord and him being the Targayen prince. When the Greens and Blacks went against each other, your father’s sworn fealty to the blacks became an obstacle in your friendship and when your father was defeated, army overthrown — you were taken prisoner, kneeled before the Targaryen prince who was once your closest friend.

Swords clashed, dragon roared and knights fell after fighting bravely.

All you could do was sit idle in your room and await the promise of a better future. Only it did not come and when silence haunted the grounds of Harrenhal and everything came to a halt, you were certain your family had lost the fight.

You were mere humans, with no possession of such an almighty being.

Dragons were Gods. To be worshiped and prayed — and one was prominently flying over the remains of Harrenhal.

Belonging to none other than Aemond Targaryen, who was once your beloved friend with whom you dreamt of riding on a dragon.

Aemond had promised you when you were younglings. A promise that once he has claimed himself a dragon, you would be the first person he'd take for a flight.

The irony of the situation broke your heart.

The same dragon had left your castle and people in ruins — Vhagar’s loud wails filling up the sky with terror. You knew very well that now your army had fallen, your father definitely slain, you were going to face the same fate as many women during war did.

A prisoner, meat for Aemond’s men.

The door was slammed open and you turned around in a swift motion, finding your servant standing there. A look of horror adorning her once serene features. “It is done. The Targaryen prince has won and we are the only ones left.”

Tears blurred your vision. You did not remember reaching for the sharp blade which you had placed on your side table, an escape from all the atrocities you would eventually be forced to face by the hands of your own closest friend.

War was war.

And with the stories of Aemond’s cruelty circulating about, you knew very well than to beg for mercy or even expect it. Long gone was the sweet prince who made you promises of protection, a dragon and long lasting friendship.

He was your foe now.

An enemy who had slayed the men of your house, your own blood.

As you attempted to cut your own throat, a hand prevented you from doing so. Guards, of house Targaryen. Your face paled and your tears finally rushed down your face in glossy streaks, your one chance of escape taken from you.

The men restrained you but you screamed, struggled even. To break free and somehow draw the blade closer to your throat, only a small cut and you would disappear. You did not care if this was considered weak, you were willing to do just about anything to keep your dignity and honor.

To not be some slave for a man to put his cock in.

“Stay still, woman!” One of the guards berated you but you didn't listen, worming in their grasp.

“Let me go! Release me, right now.” Your screams echoed in the expanse of your chamber as well as the castle and Aemond heard them too.

He had ordered the demise of everyone, everyone besides you. There was this ache, this need to lay his eye upon you for the first time in awhile. Last time he saw you when you were nine, a beautiful little girl who often came to the red keep with her father — member of the council.

Aemond and your friendship flourished when you defended him against Aegon, comforting him to not lose all hope for a dragon. It was you who encouraged him, who provided him with the mental strength to claim Vhagar.

Your words of strength lingered in the back of his mind when he took claim of the largest dragon.

And now he had caused destruction with the same dragon.

Fate had brought you both to this. Ruined every good thing which was left in his life and he knew that you would never, ever forgive him for destroying your home.

You were kind, loving, sweet. Rebellious too but always stood your ground and believed in achieving justice, by any means. Aemond wondered how you'd grown, how you appeared as an adult now.

Did you braid your dark hair the same way as his Targaryen sister did, since you'd grown so fond of their silver hair? Were your eyes still the same onyx dark as your hair, a stark contrast to his own purple ones and was your choice in clothes still so dreadful? Curiosity pinched at his abdomen.

Your screams boomed through Harrenhal and Aemond felt proud of your resistance, only he had no knowledge of what you were resisting for so prominently.

He had no idea all your desperation and fight was to end your life.

The guards pulled you apart, their blood stained hands managing to rip off the side of your dress which concealed your shoulder during all the commotion to get you to release the blade. You somehow managed to free yourself from one of the guard’s unbearable grip and slashed his face with the blade.

“Ah, you fucking bitch.” He screamed, holding his face with one hand while the other tried to reach for you.

Another guard extracted his revenge, striking you across your face and tugging at the already torn fabric, exposing more of your back.

Your face contorted in pain, wishing to rid yourself off this world. “Don't fucking touch me. Unhand me and I will slaughter you lot like pigs.”

Your threats were larger than your size and some guards found you amusing while some knew you were capable of what you had promised them. A hand reached for your wrist, to tame it but not being able to pry open your clingy fingers around the dagger with all their strength.

Your fingers had paled, losing all their pink hue and the blood had stopped pumping through the small veins. That was how strong your grip around the weapon was.

Being carried down the stairs, your gaze took in the sight of the place that was once your home. Broken and hopeless, you were dragged along to the main hall. Rain pattered over the stones, causing a nauseating feeling in your stomach as you took in the situation of your castle.

Thankfully, your blurry vision did not allow you to take more of the destruction. All you noticed was the daunting figure of your enemy, standing pridefully at the center of the hall, awaiting your arrival.

You were pushed towards someone, forced on your knees and the silky silver strands gave away at the person's identity. Prince Aemond Targaryen stood before you, with his back turned to you and hands clasped behind his back.

You attempted to gather the pieces of your torn dress, holding it over your chest since it was ripped evidently in the back. Aemond upon turning around, did not expect you to be in such ruins. Dress torn apart, dark hair all but a mess and he caught glimpse of the silver rings encircled around your strands.

Now in a complete frenzy.

The same silver you always wore in your hair, around your little braids.

Aemond glanced up at his guards and then back at you, watching you. Demeanor phlegmatic, lips sitting tediously on his face.

You didn't dare to lift up your eyes. It wasn't about possessing enough courage to look him in the eye but having no self control. You knew deep down if you looked at him, you'd lose all control and attack him.

“I don't recall ordering you lot to bring her in such a..” Aemond tilted his head, analyzing the state you were in. “disheveled state.”

“She fought back a lot, my Prince. Intended to cut her throat with that little blade of hers in her hand.” Aemond was slightly taken aback from the revelation but you were right to choose that as an option. Everyone in this room knew what happened to women during war, especially the beautiful ones such as yourself.

The highborns were craved more as they carried noble blood within them.

His one eye fell upon the blade you still held with great vigor in your hand and Aemond nearly snickered. You had not let go of that adamant personality of yours, carrying it with you in adulthood.

Aemond did not like how your beautiful skin was exposed to the lecherous eyes of his guards. This abrupt jealousy even left him bemused for a moment, nonetheless he diverted his attention back to you.

He stepped closer — frame towering over yours and you saw the perfect moment to attack him. A feeble and thoughtless action but it was either succumbing to horrors or extracting revenge. In a fraction of mere seconds, you had risen up from your knees and headed for him with the pointy end of the dagger in his direction.

The guards reached for you and before you could possibly injure the Prince regent, his fingers enveloped your wrist. With potent strength and fast reflexes, Aemond held you in place. A mischievous glint flashed in his one good eye, lips curving up in a malicious smirk.

He saw the raw hatred and hunger for revenge in your eyes — your hand unwavering and stable. You meant the attack. Nowhere was it under the sad emotions of losing your family.

“Bold of you to assume this would work on me, Dōna.” Aemond whispered, face only a few inches apart from yours. Only the dagger separating you. You acknowledged the name he'd called you, from when you were children and the anger inside you was fuelled more. (Sweet)

“Have I not trained in front of you, hm? Did you not see me wield a sword whenever you stayed in the red keep?”

You glared at him. “I will kill you, either with poison or with a dagger. It is my promise to you, tyrant.”

“From raqiros to tyrant? You truly have grown, my Dōna.” He whispered malevolently, his warm breath with its own mind caressing the bridge of your nose, nearly with affectionate. (Friend)

Having spent most of your childhood in the red keep with the targaryens, especially Aemond, he was bound to teach you some high valyrian. You knew what raqiros meant, but he had never unveiled the meaning behind the nickname he gave you. Promising you he would once you two are grown enough.

Aemond looked up from your face to his men who stood on guard. Three of them, big and broad. His eyes raked over their hands and as he imagined those same hands mishandling you, ripping away at your clothes and prying open the corset which held your dress together, his jaw clenched.

“Ser Criston Cole,” he called out and the commander responded, head held high.

Aemond’s hand still prevented you from moving an inch, the pointy end of the dagger only a few inches away from his glistening, pale cheek.

“Behead them.” It was a simple command but it instilled fear in everyone in the room, including you. Even the commander was surprised by such a gruesome order and dared to ask. “Forgive me, my Prince but why?”

Aemond locked gaze with you. “They dared to lay hands on my prize, unveiled her dignity.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as the Commander nodded, passing the order to his other guards. You heard the sounds of constant struggle, similar to yours as their pleas to live fell upon deaf ears.

“My Prince, please! Spare us, we were only acting upon your order!”

They were ignored, as Aemond continued to stare at you. His purple eye dropping to your lips for a second. He released you and you, on instinct, stepped back with the dagger still in your hand. It was proven that combat was definitely not how you could take down the prince.

Aemond had forced you to come along to the premises of Harrenhal, where his dragon rested. Strained and tired from the war she had indulged in. You had never seen Vhagar up close but knew that she was the second largest dragon, her first rider being Visenya Targaryen.

Your lips shuddered the more closer you were pulled next to the sleeping dragon.

“She can smell fear.” Aemond reminded you, staring ahead. “Conceal it unless you wish to burn to ashes.”

You inhaled a deep breath, closing your eyes and hoping to put an end to the growing fear in the presence of Vhagar.

When you opened your eyes, you were more calm now and in the right state of mind to admire the beast’s beauty. She was gorgeous, a shade of bronze mixed with green and blue highlights. Green, fierce eyes staring ahead and you would have congratulated Aemond on claiming a dragon if only the circumstances were different.

“You will ride with me to King’s Landing.”

“I will not.” You spat, taking a step back from him. That didn't seem to please Aemond as he closed the distance between you and grasped your arm, holding you in place. “Yes, you will.”

“I would rather be fed to your hounds than ride with you upon the back of the dragon which destroyed my home.” Your tone was venomous, full of anger and spite. Aemond knew there was no way calming you down or ridding you of your anger, so he did the next best thing that came to mind.

His slim hands slithered across your waist as he picked you up, settling you down on the dragon’s back. Vhagar released a roar and Aemond whispered something to her in high valyrian, causing her to calm down. Her head settling down, to rest.

He moved in front of you, taking a seat as well. “Hold on tight.”

You glued your hands to your sides, completely ignoring him. Aemond released a frustrated growl at your adamant behavior and lack of pliancy. He reached behind to grab your arms with his gloved hands, forcefully circling them around his small waist.

“Let go of me.” You struggled and Aemond looked back at you with irritation all over his beautiful face. “Do you wish to succumb to your death by falling? If so, feel free to let go.”

That was a lie as Aemond had already tied you to him with the brown belt — locking you with him. Even if you were to let go of him, his body weight restricted on his dragon would prevent you from falling and eventually meeting your demise. This was merely to get you to touch him.

To feel you against him, with little to no distance.

Your lips settled in a frown as you tightened your hold around him causing Aemond to grin. He patted his dragon’s back and then spoke. “Sōvēs, Vhagar.” (Fly)

The dragon shifted on its legs, preparing for the flight and you gasped when you felt it move more beneath you. Subconsciously, your fingers gripped the leather tunic of Aemond, chest pressing tightly over his broad back. Terror filled you as the dragon finally took flight, its huge wings flapping and the force of it made you realize how easy it must have been for Aemond to ruin your house.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, closing your lids shut and burying your face in Aemond’s shoulders.

This is exactly how he had anticipated your first ride on a dragon with him all these years, how you'd react to the beast moving and roaring. Your subtle touches, adorable reactions and soft sounds were just as Aemond had pictured them in his mind.

And he was fulfilling his promise to you.

Until now, Aemond never allowed anyone to ride with him. Only you were the exception and as gruesome the enmity between the two of you was, he could not simply suppress the overwhelming feelings he'd always harbored.

“Aemond..” You whispered, as the dragon took flight and it left you screaming. “Aemond! I'm fucking terrified.”

One hand holding onto his seat, the other reached over and settled on your hand around his chest. In an attempt to comfort you as Vhagar flew into the depths of the sky, Harrenhal nothing but a small scenery when you opened your eyes to look down at it.

A lone tear slid down your face.

This was not how you wished to ride with Aemond.

You hated him, disgust all over your face when you noticed how little and inferior everything appeared from up here. No wonder the Targaryens burned people and houses, as they felt superior being this close to Gods than the rest of you.

“Calm down, Dōna.” He said to you when his dragon had finally flew for King’s Landing.

You didn't say anything, only loosened your hold around him after realizing how awfully close were you to him.

Aemond noticed that and didn't like it.

“Vēzot, Vhagar. Vēzot.” Upon hearing Aemond’s command, the dragon changed route and flew high up in the air, going up tearing through the grey clouds. In fear of falling, your arms once again found themselves around the dragon rider’s small waist. (Up)

You had no idea what Aemond had said but it made his dragon fly up, defying gravity and leaving you gasping for air.

With a satisfied smile on his face, Aemond relished in the feeling of power he had over you and the power he'll soon have over others too. It was painfully evident his brother was incompetent and if something were to befall him, it would be Aemond next in line to inherit the throne.

Never did you ever think or expect that you would be brought back to the red keep as a prize, a symbol of victory — a slave most definitely for Aemond after how he behaved last time with the guards last time. He did not allow anyone to look at you, to touch you, besides your maidens who helped you doll up for the Prince.

His possessiveness was very well known to you when you both were children but you had expected him to grow out of it. How foolish of you to assume that.

Aemond was a possessive child. You recalled the time where he had forbade his siblings from playing with you — or when he did not let anyone touch his sword or even wield it. You remembered how the future lord of Casterly Rock was treated only because he had dared to pass a compliment to Aemond’s sword.

You could hear the cheers of the smallfolk and it disgusted you. He only won against you and your family, not the Blacks. It repulsed you how he was supporting a usurper and not the rightful heir. Your father died for the cause of Rhaenyra Targaryen, you would do too in a heartbeat.

You were lead inside the Red keep after the notorious flight with Aemond. The Prince’s orders were to his servants were to lead you to his own chambers and clean you up. You had no idea why, but you were not going to comply easily.

“I am not your mistress.” Your voice boomed loudly in the main hall, causing Aemond’s footsteps to come to a halt. “Neither am I your whore. Kill me because I too support Rhaenyra Targaryen’s claim to the throne. I shall die a honorable death as my father and kin did.”

You had dared to speak to him, like that, in the presence of not only the Queen but even the other council members.

Aemond’s hands balled up into fits. “Take her.”

You were forcefully dragged somewhere while you struggled, piercing screams enough to damage one's ears. Before you were pulled in a corridor, you made a promise. “I will get my revenge, Aemond Targaryen. You shall answer for the blood of my family that stains your hands. I will never forgive you!”

Alicent followed her son, your threats still lingering in her mind. You had screamed them with tremendous agony and will. She worried, for the kingdom.

“Do you believe you would be doing the realm anything good by bringing a blood thirsty enemy here?” Alicent questioned as she followed Aemond into the room where the council took place.

His fists shook, with poorly tamed rage. “She is anything but a weak girl.”

Alicent scoffed. “She is openly screaming threats. Either a fool would do that or a person who has got absolutely nothing to lose, Aemond.”

“Her screams will quiet down once I have managed to put a child in her.” Aemond spat at his mother, placing his sword down on the table.

She was appalled at what her son had evolved into. The monster he'd become and somewhere she doubted her own motherly skills.

You were forced into a beautiful, pale dress – the fabric as thin as a sheer curtain – after your bath. The maids obviously did not provide you with anything which could conceal your body in the see through white dress. It had embroidery done on the front, so it somewhat worked to cover your breasts.

But the longer it extended, the more it revealed everything underneath.

Pieces of your wavy dark hair were pinned behind, some braided with silver rings clipped around.

The maids soon excused themselves, leaving you to your solitude. Your body felt cold from the lack of clothes so you moved over to stand before the fireplace. Arms sliding up and down your frame to warm up yourself.

Truth to be told, you were suffering with trepidation. Were you prepared to sleep, to head to bed? But why in Aemond’s chambers? All sorts of vile and impure thoughts came rushing in your mind as you tried to keep them at bay.

The doors were soon opened and there stood Aemond, in a different set of clothes. You immediately stepped back, albeit him standing far away from you. He noticed that but no matter how many walls you tried to build between you two, Aemond was determined to break and crush each and every one of those.

He appeared enamored with you.

You were nothing less than an angel, standing underneath the moonlight illuminating your frame.

“Is this what you brought me here for, Prince Regent? To dress me up and warm your bed late at night?” You questioned with disgust and Aemond stepped froward.

You immediately retreated. “Do not dare to come any closer. I will not be one of your whores.”

“What makes you think I would let you become one of my whores?” Aemond asked with a soft tone. Your beauty had soothed all his irritation but it also ignited a fire within his core.

“You're a monster.” You whispered. “You have become a tyrant, a beast worse than those dragons of yours. It is a pity.”

Aemond was losing his patience with you. He didn't waste time, snapping and running towards you. The man pinned you against the wall, knocking over a vase resting on a table besides you. Pain bloomed in your back from the hardness of the wall — and being slammed into it.

The targaryen man locked eyes with you and let out a smile of satisfaction, witnessing the fear swimming in your innocent gaze. “Pity? You dare pity me when you are left with nothing of your house, nothing.”

The cruel reminder caused tears to well up in your eyes but your gaze stayed locked with Aemond’s. It did not waver and with all your strength, you pushed him away from you.

“I hate you.” You confessed, tears sliding down your face, a testament to the pain you were battling. “You were my friend, my fucking friend. How could you do this to me, to me? Your fucking Dōna, Aemond.”

When he heard the high valyrian word escape your lips, he growled. You saw him take a step further and this time decided to make a run for the door, trying to crawl over the bed hastily but Aemond was fast, vigilant as he grabbed you.

You fought back, slapping and punching him but it didn't work at all. He shoved his lips against yours and he did not care that you didn't want this. He wanted it, that was all that mattered. Aemond’s tongue forcefully entered your mouth as your hands continuously punched his chest.

He pushed you down on the both whilst staying locked to you, tasting your plump lips with vigor.

Head tilted, he pushed open your thighs and buried his knee between them. Rutting it against your cunt and you released a muffled cry in the liplock, hoping he would show some mercy but Aemond was too far gone.

The pressure on your clit – sheer fabric the cause of you and Aemond’s separation – was intense. A burgeoning need lighting up in your core as you struggled. There was no way you would give in, no matter how much you had admired him when you both were children. You knew better. You were only the daughter of some lord, meanwhile he was the Prince.

The fight for dominance was already won by Aemond as his tongue explored the inside of your sweet flesh. He broke apart from you to gaze upon you, a mess he'd turned you into. Face flushed, lips swollen and bloodied from how harshly he had sunk his canines into them.

Your dark hair with glinting silver in pure disarray, spread about everywhere on the bed. Aemond was fucking drunk and there was no stopping him.

“You said I'm a monster, right?” His voice was eerily low, causing you to panic. “I shall show you what monstrosity I am capable of.”

He tore the dress in a single tug, discarding the two pieces somewhere on the ground. Fear evident in your enlarged eyes as you struggled to conceal yourself with your arms but Aemond held them above your head, his fingers roughly pressing into your skin leaving marks.

“Aemond, please.” Tears fell and Aemond nearly softened.

If you'd been kind to him like how you were in the past, this compromising situation wouldn't have fallen you. He would've let you live, be a maid in the red keep but now, he had to prove it to you.

Just what he was capable of.

“Aemond,” you sweetly called out, hoping it would work. “My prince, don't do this. You do not wish to do this.”

“Too late for that sweet tone, my lady. If you do not wish for worse, I suggest you shut your goddamn mouth and take it.” His voice was so soft, so low but his words were as repulsive and cruel. It was what Aemond had become. A broken boy who sought out solace but was too afraid to ask for it, fearful of seeming weak — yet again becoming a target of his brother’s constant bullying.

In the process of becoming what he hated, Aemond lost you too.

One eye raked over your exposed breasts, full and round. You were no longer the little girl who used to chase him around the red keep, in her long dresses. You had flourished, flowered with grown tits and when his eye fell lower, he inhaled sharply. Plush, meaty thighs greeted them. He recalled how at one point you were as skinny as a boy, with no fat to your lean frame.

Now you had blossomed in a beautiful woman.

Your skin glowed neath the moonlight, your presence basking in its light. It showcased all the little minorities your features carried, what you had become, the delicate beauty that you were.

“You are certainly no little girl no more.” He reminded you, words no less than salt over your sounds.

Tears pearled on your waterline. “And you've grown into a fine man yourself.”

Your words were carried on obvious pain and Aemond pretended he did not catch a whiff of that. You continued, with a wavering voice, drained from all your rebellion and fight. “Fine but cruel, Aemond. I thought you were different, ought to be different. You proved me wrong.”

“Keep your lips sealed.” Aemond commanded, as your words nearly made his will to defile you falter. Being the daughter of a high lord, he was certain your maidenhead was still intact. You were never the type to engage in lecherous actions before the pure promise of a marriage.

Aemond’s rough hands took a handful of your breasts, fondling the fat. Thumbs swiping over your peebles, sending them upright. Undeniable pleasure shot through your body in the form of swarming heat as it settled in your lower stomach. A prominent gasp tore from your parted, swollen lips as Aemond stared at you in adoration.

“They are so full.” His comment about your body your pleasure-clad face form into one of grimace. “I wonder how your cunt looks now that you are older. You were always too innocent to consider our friendship anything more than what it was.”

Your back arched off the bed, the writhing of your hips increasing whenever Aemond rubbed his knee over your tiny pearl. You felt it swell up with need and wanton, a dull ache growing, begging to be burned out. The silver haired male pried your thighs open to lay eye on your pink cunt.

Aemond licked a wet tongue over his lips, his hunger to taste your seemingly delicious core pressing at him. He never once got overwhelmed with the urge to put his mouth on a woman's cunt — as the woman he got involved with whores. He had no interest in tasting something where most men found solace in.

But you were a virgin.

He knew that.

Yet he asked, surely to rile you up. “Has anyone been inside of you yet?”

Your eyes widened at the repulsive question of his. Brows scrunching in disgust and the rosette on your cheeks transcending into beetroot. Before you could control your imminent action, a strike echoed in the chambers. Tears had stalled, replaced with a hateful searing look and when Aemond recovered from the slap and faced you, chills enveloped you. Despite the impact, he was still poised. Eyes sheened with darkness and pure rage, his hand moved to reciprocate the harsh movement.

Only his slap hurt more — a scorching sensation awakening below your skin. A hint of red in the form of a hand imprinted on your face.

“Answer my question.”

You shook your head. Not only had the slap worked wonders to make you more pliant, it also made you realize that what Aemond was capable of.

His fingers ran along the line of your plumped up lips. “Use this pretty mouth of yours.”

“I'm not a low born.” You said through gritted teeth. “I'm chaste. Check for yourself if you are disbelieving of me.”

Aemond let out a scoff, fingers dimpling into your cheeks. The angry pout on your lips along with his hand print left behind on your cheek made you look ten times more endearing to him. “That I plan on doing, my lady.”

Hands lowering to your thighs, fingers dipping in the thickness. Aemond nestled his head between them, eyes gliding over your glistening cunt. It was true that you were still chaste and he was sure of it, there was no need to check it. He softly ran his tongue over your pearl, a sharp breath from you entering his ears.

“I don't want this.” Your tone had a hint of plea in it. “Please, Aemond. It is too repulsive, I cannot—”

Aemond growled. “Cannot, what? You cannot allow my cock inside you? Cannot allow me to put a babe in you? Or won't allow me to simply because I'm Aemond.”

“Targaryen with the largest dragon who put an end to my family line.” You finished, vision blurring. Aemond knew this conversation was pointless to carry and he instead closed his lips around your swollen bud, suckling like it would produce the sweetest of nectars in existence.

You tried to fight him off, pushing at his shoulders with the little strength left in your small fingers to no avail. He sucked with great vigor and your demeanor fell — back rising up from the ruined mattress and hips pushing your mound further into his cage. He pulled back, lapping at your swollen clit over and over again, like a dog in heat. Tears furiously caressed down your face as Aemond’s fingers came to collect your arousal from the center of your folds.

By the Gods, you were a waterfall.

“Never did I think I would grow this addicted to the taste of a woman's cunt.” Aemond whispered, his warm breath shooting jolts of pleasure through you. Your hand on its own accord pressed onto his head, palm flaccid and fingers twisting his Targaryen strands around. “The more I taste you, the more famished I become.”

“G-Get off me.” You somehow managed to utter. You were mortified. How your body ached for him to continue, hand forcing his mouth against your hot heat whilst the heavy fists of your morals thudded on the door of your hazed mind.

All but a futile endeavor to fight back.

Aemond pulled back and reached for his slacks, undoing them. You watched with a dazed out look as he released his cock from the confines of his breeches. His fingers moving to curve under the hem of his shirt, ridding himself of the leather as well as his small clothes.

Left bare and naked before you, your gaze caught Aemond’s searing red cock. Head swollen and shining with leaking cum, veins traced up and down. You closed your eyes, in hopes that the nightmare before you would be over but that was only you losing last remnants of your hope.

“I-It won't fit.” You whispered to yourself, more tears sliding down your temples.

Aemond heard it, despite your voice being a low whisper. He reached over to grab your face between his large hand, fingers sinking into your cheeks. That caused you to flutter your weak lids open, staring back at him with a sheen in your pupils. “It will fit. Your maidenhead is still intact, so it might be painful. But who cares?”

Your bottom lip quivered as Aemond let go, holding his cock. He guided it across your wet slit, pushing its thick head past your folds and pressing into your pearl. Your breath was bated, perspiration dancing on your forehead. Your body had grown completely warm and you wished for someone, anyone to burn down the fire which was ignited in the fireplace.

Aemond gathered your arousal, in soft circulation around your pebble. You whined out, hands slapping at his broad shoulders to put an end to his obscenities. Yet he did not falter, will growing more profound and strengthened to a point of no return.

He soon aligned his cock along your hole with the disgusting intention to defile it and slipped in. Your walls squeezing around his cock head tightly, endeavoring to grow used to the size but Aemond did not wait. He pushed and your tears of sadness had now transformed into tears of pain.

Hot searing pain.

“It hurts, it hurts. Let me go, please let me go.” You cried, screamed even, nails scratching rapidly at his chest. You left evidence of your firmness, of your distaste for such degeneration. Long lacerations formed on a pale canvas as Aemond held you down with one hand circled around your throat while the other had pushed your leg up for more easy and open access.

You were crying relentlessly and it was beginning to annoy the young Prince. “Quiet now, or I will have your tongue.”

“I-It is too p-painful.” You sobbed and this time Aemond landed a tight slap to your other cheek, watching it imitate the shade of the other one. “I said, fucking quiet. If I hear anything other than sounds of pleasure out of these lips of yours, I will toss you to my guards.”

It was an empty threat.

Aemond would never, ever do that. You were for him, only him. Insignificant your view was about him.

You were his prize, a sign of victory.

Still Aemond stalled, not having the heart to pummel his cock fully into you. All he managed was to breach your maidenhead and you were already wailing like you'd been shot with an arrow. He waited it out, letting you grow accustomed to his length and thickness.

Once your agony-clad face recovered and softened, Aemond took it as a sign to move further. Your gummy walls sucking his cock in, caressing the rigid veins. Deeper, and deeper. He went slowly and carefully, which you didn't overlook. You felt him sheath his cock fully into you, arms extended out for him, in complete submission.

Aemond, silently surprised by such vulnerability and submission, took your hands into his and brought them to his nape. “Hold me, brace yourself, Dōna.”

That sweet tone of his.

It nearly warmed your heart but the constant reminder which took at Harrenhal haunted you like a ghost. A cursed bestowed upon you, no escape at all. Aemond melted within you, nestling against your spongey spot of nerves. Your lips fell when he found that sensitive spot of yours.

He didn't waste time pummeling his cock into your weeping cunt, growls of a beast escaping him. You could not bring yourself to look at him. Pulling him closer, you concealed your face within the crook of his neck as your hold clasped around his slender nape — fingers intertwining with silver roots. Aemond had only tried Sylvie, his first and last so when he felt you draw him closer, it ignited a fire impossible to end.

“Gods,” Aemond groaned in your ear, his sharp nose running along your cheek, both hands gripping your flesh. “If I had known laying with you would be this pleasurable, I would have done it when we were younglings.”

Disgust would have made path on yout face it it was not for the pleasure Aemond bestowed upon you. His thick cock head repeatedly bruised your cervix and all you could do was wail, your hold for dear life tightening around him. Aemond found delight on your innocent moans, your sweet little hiccups and sounds of pleasure. He pulled from you, to glance down and felt immense satisfaction at the ring of blood around his length. He had officially taken you, not exactly under the circumstances he wanted but pondering about that was futile now.

His one eye stayed focused on you. Examining the lines donning your forehead, dark brows furrowed and a sheen of sweat sitting on your forehead. Pale cheeks flustered and saccharine sweet lips parted, birthing little sounds.

An epitome of nobility and charm you were.

Aemond pulled out of you, just as you were beginning to reach your pounding climax.

He leaned on the head board of the bed, chest glistening with droplets of sweat. The fire crackling was not helping neither of you to find some cold. “Get on top of me.”

You weakly shook your head.

Aemond’s glare obliged you and you shifted on the bed, crawling on top of him. In the process, you caught the blood of your purity staining the pale bed sheets, as well as your thighs. A burning sensation prodded and you finally did what Aemond asked you to do. The evil man grinned, leaning forward to press a kiss to your temple.

“I'm sure you know your job here.”

Your lips trembled. “I-I am supposed to sit on it?”

Innocently you had voiced that question and Aemond almost cooed. He gave you a simple nod and watched as your cheeks burned with newfound embarrassment. You still did what you were told to, aware that fighting him back on this would only make him revoke the small kindness he'd shown you.

You grabbed a hold of his erect cock — pressing it over your soaked hole. As you slipped down on it, Aemond and you groaned in unison.

Your small hands found support on his bleeding chest, fingers swiping over his nipples accidentally and Aemond let out a choked gasp. The feeling of your walls clamping his cock mixed with the way your fingers brushed over his nipples was enough to send him fucking into you. Thrusting upwards into you while his large hand stayed locked on your hip.

Both of you moved simultaneously, greedily chasing after your own pleasure. Aemond saw a goddess in front of him — a weeping goddess who possessed the cunt of a hungry whore. Your small waist and bare tits bouncing with each move had him obsessed like a dog.

“Fuck, fuck, Dōna.”

He panted like his dragon, matching your pace with his, hand fondling your breasts. He was close but ripping an orgasm through you first was his priority and he was dedicated to it. Aemond felt your cunt squeeze him, watching as your tears fell in little pearls. “I am going to put a babe in you, Dōna. Can you believe it? Your childhood friend putting a babe in you.”

You couldn't even voice out your disagreement, Aemond was bound to do what he promised you. An intense feeling surged in your stomach, your pace slowing down and your sobbing growing more and more. Your orgasm tore through you in the form of essence, as your eyes disappeared behind your lids.

“Aemond, Aemond! Aemond.” You chanted his name out like a mantra and he slapped his cock deeper into you.

He fucking loved how submissive you were being now — entirely at his mercy and neath him. His own climax followed thoroughly, filling your walls with his spend. Spurting our rope after rope of white to fill up your expanded womb. Growls of need and ache echoed in the room and you couldn't stay still anymore, losing all your balance and colliding right in his chest.

Your little body was spent, fatigue and tiredness weakening you. Aemond was quick to wrap his arms around you, shushing you gently while you cried in his chest.

“It's over now.” He reassured but you knew very well that it was not. It was only for tonight that it was over.

Aemond comforted you, holding you against him with his cock still inside you.

“I hate you.” You cried, tears coating his chest as your forehead rested on his muscular chest. Aemond could only sigh, loathing the situation that bad befallen them. He did not resent you as you were the only one who had shown him true kindness.

But the war and throne were far more important.

“Rest, you need it.” He said, an order it was and you felt forced to comply. “Things will be very different from now on, Dōna. I will have the high sept marry us tomorrow, our child will not be a bastard.”

All you could do was weakly stir in his arms at that. There was no way you were willing but it was better than being a slave for Aemond’s guards. Being one man's whore was better than being a thousand’s.

[juletheghoul]

crossing the line

a/n: I have been possessed by this man, he has singlehandedly cured my writers block. This is un beta-ed, any mistakes are my own. Shout out to @foli-vora for joining in the hysteria with me, thanks for cheering me on my love Hopefully you enjoy!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, Marcus jerking it so right, creampie, vaginal fingering, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance), Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.1k

reblogs are appreciated

Prev chapter Masterlist series masterlist

Maybe someone else would have been upset to see how little they owned in the world, but it made no difference to you. The tunic on your back, an extra one to swap out for cleaning, a shawl, and a pair of sandals. That was all you had, that was all you needed, not much to fill your new quarters, modest as they were. Only let you get accustomed to your duties all the quicker. 

You held no melancholy at having been sold into the service of another, it was the story of your life and had happened before. You had no doubts that it would happen again. Instead, you focused on learning the layout of the new villa that would be your home, on learning the moods of your new Dominus and praying to the Gods that he was not heavy handed with his slaves. 

You’d been purchased by none other than Marcus Acacius, the General of the army of Rome. 

Getting used to being in his presence took great effort, meeting his gaze was akin to being struck by lightning. He had the unique power to make your stomach roil like waves, but it wasn’t always an entirely unpleasant feeling. He was older, his hair streaked with gray and his face lined with age but it did nothing to diminish his beauty, or his prowess. You could almost believe he was a marble statue, an Emperor of the past, come to life. He’d caught your eye instantly. 

Months passed, then a year, and you did indeed learn his moods. You learned all about his needs and did well to anticipate his wants, so much so that eventually, he had you follow him around like a shadow. Your prayers had been answered, although his moods could get quite dark, he never raised his hand to anyone in his service. He had no need to. He could correct any misstep with a look. There was a cloud that loomed over him though, an intensity, an air about the man of bottled energy. Any words he did speak were short, and cut to the heart of the matter and despite the fact that he never hurt you or the others, you thought it might only be a matter of time before someone got the brunt end of his misplaced wrath. 

“He has been away from the battlefield for too long, pay him no mind. Do your duties, and he will settle.” One of the older women in the house noticed the way you wring your hands at his dark temperament, seeing her unbothered by it did much to calm you. 

You didn’t notice it at first, but more and more often you felt his eyes linger on you. Felt him follow as you set the table with his meals, when you helped him dress in the morning, more still when you helped him with his night time rituals. He was unabashed and unrelenting, his eyes traveling the length of you, lingering on the swell of your breasts when you stood before him, on your backside when you walked away. You knew the look, had seen it in countless men in the houses you’d served before. You’d seen on the boy that served with you when you were both coming to the age of such things, when young men stretched and grew overnight, and girls flowered, breasts blossoming and blood coming at the turn of the moon. You had seen it in the young man that had taken your chastity, fumbling at your tunic when everyone had gone to sleep.

At first it had shocked you, not because of some notion of propriety or disgust, this was something that happened in every house. The Dominus was there to be served, no matter what they wanted, it came with your station in life, what shocked you, was how welcome his gaze was. How much you relished his heated stare, how much you wanted him to look at you, always. He’d been the object of every heated fantasy you’d had since stepping foot in the house but you’d been under the impression that he was a solitary creature, uncaring for the company of anyone, except his hounds, two great big beasts that he doted on. He never pressed the matter however, and so you contented yourself with your dreams. 

-

He’d been gone most of the day, leaving you to help the other attendants with their duties, and the time passed quickly, and with the moon rising you thought it best to go to sleep–trusting that by this hour, surely he’d be staying put. With your own clothes washed and hanging to dry for the morning, you settled into bed. It was not to last however, one of the older women came through not long after you’d undressed and gotten into bed and announced that he’d arrived, looking for you. 

“God’s be damned.” You swore under your breath, “Gratitude, I will see to him shortly.” 

You had no choice but to put on one of the damp tunics, hissing at the frosty touch but running off to tend to him just the same. 

With a light knock to announce your presence, you entered his private chambers. 

“Apologies Dominus, I had thought you would be gone until the morning.” You bowed your head in deference to him, “Shall I fetch food and wine? Or will you be going to sleep?” His eyes were narrow slits, fixed on your body. You looked down to where he stared and noted that the wet fabric left nothing to the imagination. The dark patch of hair between your legs was clear as day, as was everything else. “Apologies Dominus, I had washed them when I thought you would be gone.” You stood there, the room pregnant with tension as he looked his fill. After what felt like hours, he looked up to your face and the expression made your nipples harden, a fact he did not miss. 

“No, Girl. I am not hungry.” He set about undressing and you hurried to help him, doing your best to keep your touch from lingering too long. “I will cleanse and go to sleep. Snuff out some of these candles, and be off to bed.” His voice was low, and it opened a river between your thighs, the arousal for him so sharp it ached. 

“Yes Dominus.” You did as he asked, leaving only a couple of candles burning near his bed, and leaving him there. You were just closing the door to your quarters when you realized his basin had not been filled, so you ran back to make sure he had the water he needed. It would have to be cold at this hour. 

This time, you did not knock, hoping that he’d still be preoccupied enough that you could just slip in, fill his basin and slip out. 

There was a slick, rhythmic noise that greeted you, along with a low, guttural groan. His chamber was darker without as many candles but the sight that greeted you was clear as day, and would forever be burned into your mind. Him, bathed in candlelight, his cock thick and shiny with his pearly arousal. 

His strength could never be denied, but like this, with his arm flexing with each long stroke, his muscles glinted. You’d seen all manner of people nude in your service, there was no shame in it. The human body was a work of art and growing up and giving into desires meant you’d seen men nude and ready to rut, but this was something else. The young men you'd been with were callow boys. This was a man. 

You stood there, frozen, and aching with an emptiness you hadn’t felt this keenly in so long. 

He felt you then, and looked up to see you watching him and before you could say anything he focused on the place so clearly visible through the wet fabric between your legs and moaned a filthy moan. You didn’t know whether to drop the jug of water and run, or mount him like you would a wild horse. You bit your lip, willing him to beckon you forth to him.

“Did you come back just to torment me, girl? Or would you lend a hand?” He watched your face, letting you decide what you wanted, you put the jug down and walked towards him. 

“I live to serve you, Dominus.” His brow furrowed with every step you took until his face tipped up to look into your eyes. 

“Take that off–” He grunted the last word, squeezing his cock in his fist while you obeyed. “Put your foot right here.” He gestured to the spot beside his thigh, and you did. “Spread it open. I want to see it.” He watched your sex, his mouth opening in a silent ‘O’ when you complied. “Are you wet for me, girl?” He sped up, fucking his fist in earnest. 

“Yes Dominus.” You slipped your fingers down, dipping them inside for a moment before showing him. He moaned again and your heart felt like a hummingbird in your chest. He grabbed at your fingers with his other hand and shoved them into his mouth, eyes closed and groaning around them and it was almost too much. 

“Take it Dominus, take me.” You whispered, watching his rapturous gaze with unwavering desire. You had no time to think, because within a second, he was up and pushing you down onto his bed, settling between your spread thighs. His sex hung heavy, an angry red and for a moment your stomach dropped imaging it inside you. 

“This will be quicker than I would wish it to be,” He grasped himself in hand, almost trembling as he lined himself up and sunk inside with one, quick thrust. “Gods above, girl, this little cunt was made for me.” He couldn’t hold himself back or give you time to adjust to his size, instead he set a brutal pace, and you held on, with arms around his neck and legs high on his hips for dear life. 

Your fingers ached with how tightly they gripped the curls at the base of his skull. You pulled him closer, needing to feel his weight as he stretched you open on his length, over and over, making everything bounce with the force of it. He was right about it being quick though, a handful of pumps was all it took for him to seize up, one hand palming your breast as he seized with a growl. You felt it, the spurt of him deep inside.

“It is a gift, my gift.” He watched himself, hissing with discomfort as he pulled himself out. “My seed, just for you.” His breath came in pants as he drew himself out, softened and spent and you were struck again by his beauty. With the flush of exertion blooming on his cheeks, and the rare smile on his lips, you couldn’t help but mirror the expression, even as your own climax slipped away with every passing second. “Your turn, now I must see pleasure on your face.” He huffed out the words before laying on his side to your right, resting his head on one hand to gain a better view of you spread out beside him. 

His fingers found the source of divinity between your legs. 

“Spread those pretty thighs nice and wide for me, girl, I would have access to all of you.” He spoke low, pressing his lips to your temple as his fingers used the slip of his own mess to stoke the fire spreading through your veins. “So lovely.” 

The reverence in his tone was so at odds with the confidence in his fingers, his skill was no tawdry thing and within a few moments the euphoria was so close you could taste it. You turned your face to him, silently begging for his mouth and he obliged, his kiss sweet as summer wine and all at once the wave crested. Your legs closed of their own accord, but this only bolstered him to slip two fingers inside, pumping through his seed and your liquid desire, laughing softly at the way you clutched at his arm. 

All of the times before, had been a jest. It was hard to know if anything you felt before could even be called pleasure. 

“Can you walk?” He pressed his lips to your shoulder, lowering them until he took a nipple into his mouth. You nodded. 

“Yes Dominus.” He placed a final kiss to the soft skin of your breast, the whiskers on his face tickling you. 

“Very well, off to bed.” The smile was gone, but it was replaced with a sleepy, satisfied look, one that you were sure would be gone in the morning. 

“Yes Dominus.” You rose, on shaky legs, grabbed your damp tunic, and slipped out of his chambers. 

—

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[speaknow-sw]

•| ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴏʀɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ |•

Content : rough sex, degradation, anakin isn’t nice, PiV, mentions of slavery and whipping, swearing, pure filth. I’m not responsible for your own media consumption.

A/N : Here’s chapter two and it’s pure filth, reader’s a bit egoistical but who wouldn’t want to be close to their lover after centuries of not seeing them ? Anakin is not nice but he’s trying guys 😅 (no). Anyway enjoy. domina = my lady

• | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪɪ : ᴀ ꜱʟᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ɴᴏ ᴏɴᴇ |•

THE CHAMBER WAS DIMLY LIT, the flickering glow of torches casting long shadows over damp stone walls. The scent of blood and sweat clung to the air, thick and inescapable, but you moved through it untouched, a vision in silk and gold. Your presence here was unnatural—an intruder in the depths of the Colosseum, where men were caged like animals, their only purpose to fight, bleed, and die for the pleasure of Rome.

But you had not come for their spectacle. You had come for him. You moved untouched, veiled in silk, adorned in gold, your presence commanding obedience with nothing more than a glance.

A dominus had power in Rome, and tonight, you played the part of one. The lanista, a balding, thickset man with a face like a bloated corpse, counted the coins in his palm before giving you a wary glance. His reluctance was almost amusing. He did not know what you were, only that you were not like the other Roman nobles who sought gladiators for their amusement.

“He’s dangerous,” the lanista muttered, as if that would dissuade you.

Your gaze flickered to the heavy wooden door behind him, the iron bolts securing the beast within. “That is precisely why I chose him.”

The lanista exhaled sharply through his nose but said nothing more. The metal groaned as he dragged the bolts free, stepping aside as the door swung open.

And then—

Anakin Skywalker emerged from the darkness.

He was shirtless, his body slick with sweat and streaked with blood, muscles taut beneath the dim torchlight. His wrists were bound in iron, the heavy chains rattling as he moved, but he carried them as if they weighed nothing. Fresh wounds striped his back from the lash he had taken earlier that day, punishment for his disobedience in the arena. The marks stood out like crimson sigils against his tanned skin, yet he bore them without flinching.

But it was his eyes that truly held you still—cold, sharp blue, a striking contrast to the golden curls that fell damp over his brow. He was bruised, bleeding, and yet he stood tall, utterly unbowed.

The lanista shoved him forward. “Kneel, slave.”

Anakin barely spared the man a glance. Instead, he looked at you.

And smirked.

You arched a brow.

“No?” the lanista snapped, stepping toward him, whip coiled at his hip.

“I do not kneel for Romans,” Anakin said, voice like gravel, rough from battle and pain. His gaze remained locked on yours, unreadable but heavy with something dark. “Especially not for their women.”

The lanista moved to strike him, but you lifted a hand, stopping him.

“Leave us.”

The lanista hesitated. “But, domina—”

“I said leave.”

A flicker of something—perhaps fear, perhaps confusion—crossed the man’s face before he reluctantly stepped away, muttering curses under his breath. The heavy door groaned shut behind him, and then, at last, you were alone with Anakin.

Silence stretched between you.

Anakin rolled his shoulders, the motion slow, deliberate. “So,” he drawled, glancing at you with something dangerously close to amusement. “Another Roman noble come to inspect her latest plaything ?”

Your lips curved. “I see the whip did not teach you humility.”

He tilted his head, eyes dragging over you in a way that might have been insolent—if not for the fact that you allowed it. His gaze lingered on the silk of your robes, the gold at your throat, the faint scent of perfume that clung to your skin. When his eyes met yours again, they burned with something unreadable.

“I’ve learned that Romans enjoy a man who suffers prettily for them,” he murmured, a mocking edge to his voice. “Did you pay for a closer look at my cock ?”

You hummed, stepping closer. “I paid for your time, gladiator. What I do with it is my choosing.”

His smirk widened. “Then I pity you.”

Your brow arched. “Oh?”

“You must be terribly bored.”

Your fingers ghosted over the rim of your goblet, the wine inside untouched. “On the contrary. I find you fascinating.”

He let out a low, dark laugh. “A dangerous word.”

You took another step forward, closing the distance between you. The scent of steel and sweat mixed with the faint perfume of myrrh and spices, a contrast of brutality and divinity. The chains clinked as he moved, the muscles in his arms flexing beneath their weight. He was raw power caged in iron, a lion behind bars, and yet—he did not feel like prey.

“Why do you fight ?” you asked, tilting your head. “You do not strike me as a man who enjoys entertaining Rome.”

His expression flickered, just for a moment. “Perhaps I don’t.”

“Then why ?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, as if the question amused him. “What does it matter ? We are all slaves to something.”

Something inside you twisted. The weight of centuries pressed against your ribs, the knowledge that he was right. He was bound in iron, and you—goddess though you were—were bound by fate.

His eyes flickered, something unreadable passing through them. Then, slowly, deliberately, he stepped closer, the chains rattling between you.

“Tell me, domina,” he murmured, voice dropping to something dark, intimate. “Why are you really here?”

The silence between you thickened, heavy with something unspoken, something neither of you acknowledged but both understood. You could feel the weight of his gaze, the way his eyes traced the delicate goldwork of your jewelry, the fine embroidery of your silk robes, the way your presence itself seemed an insult in this place of sweat, blood, and iron.

Anakin stood before you, chained and bruised, a man made for war, for killing. And yet, even as a slave, he was untamed. He had not yet been broken.

But everyone had a breaking point.

You stepped closer, deliberately, your sandals whispering against the cold stone floor. He did not move, but you saw the subtle shift in his posture—the flex of his shoulders, the tightening of his jaw. A man prepared to endure, to resist.

You smiled.

“I own this time,” you said softly. “I own you for as long as I please.”

His smirk was slow, amused. “Do you?”

You lifted a hand. Not to touch him—yet—but to trace the air just above his skin, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, the heat of a body honed for battle.

His breath hitched, barely perceptible.

“I paid well for you, gladiator,” you continued, tilting your head as your fingers ghosted over his arm, lingering just above the bruises left by the iron shackles. “Tell me… do you think your master would care if I took liberties with what I own?”

His eyes darkened, the smirk sharpening. “I think you enjoy pretending that you own things that can’t be owned.”

You traced your fingers up, featherlight, skimming over the curve of his collarbone. He was scarred, his skin marked by battles fought and won, each one a testament to survival. But beneath the wounds, there was beauty—undeniable, infuriating beauty. His body was carved by struggle, but his face… his face was a god’s mistake, too beautiful for a man meant to die in the arena.

He was looking at you the way a lion looked at the fool who dared step into its cage.

Your smile did not falter. “And you enjoy pretending you have a choice.”

The chain between his wrists rattled as he shifted. His head dipped slightly, his breath warm against your cheek, too close, too bold.

“I always have a choice,” he murmured.

You let out a quiet laugh. “Do you?”

Your fingers trailed lower, down his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. He was still, but not passive. This was a man who would let you touch fire just to see if you would burn yourself.

You could.

You should.

You wouldn't.

Instead, you leaned in, close enough that he would feel the brush of your lips without ever truly touching. A phantom promise. A whisper of power.

"You belong to me tonight," you murmured against his skin. "Fight it if you want. But you will lose."

For the first time, his smirk faded.

And then, slowly, dangerously, he smiled again.

"You paid for my time, domina," he said, voice low, rough, almost mocking. "I wonder… what will you do with it ?"

"You know what I want, gladiator…so give it to me." You returned his smirk. 

Anakin's eyes flashed at your bold words, a flicker of surprise giving way to a slow, wicked grin. He leaned in closer, until you could feel the heat of his breath on your lips, the scent of steel and sweat and something darker, more primal.

"Careful what you wish for," he murmured, voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. "A man like me... I might just give you more than you can handle."

His gaze dragged over you, intense and hungry, lingering on the swell of your breasts, the curve of your hips beneath the silk of your robes. When his eyes met yours again, they burned with a feral light.

"Tell me, domina," he breathed, "do you want me to worship you like a goddess... or ruin you like the wanton creature I suspect you are beneath this fine silk and gold?"

He reached out, fingers grazing the delicate embroidery at your throat, a stark contrast to the rough, calloused skin of a warrior. His touch was fleeting, a whisper against your skin, but it left a trail of heat in its wake.

"Choose carefully," he whispered, a dark promise in his voice. "Because once I start... I don't think I'll be able to stop."

The air between you crackled with tension, the weight of his words hanging heavy. You could feel the power shift, the balance teetering on a knife's edge. He was a gladiator, a slave, but in this moment, he held the reins. He owned you with his eyes, his touch, his voice. And God help you, but you wanted him to claim you utterly.

You wanted him to take you.

To take you apart.

To put you back together again.

To make you feel alive again.

You trembled slightly under his intense gaze. "Tell me, do you see all your women like this ?"

Anakin's gaze sharpened, a flicker of something dark and dangerous passing through his eyes. He leaned back slightly, just enough to look down at you with a smirk that was equal parts cruel and amused.

"Women?" he repeated, a low, rough laugh escaping his lips. "You think you're like the others?"

He reached out, fingers curling around your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, a rough caress that sent a jolt of electricity through you.

"No," he murmured, voice dropping to a low, intimate tone. "You're not like the others. They don't have your... hunger."

His eyes searched yours, intense and unreadable. "They don't look at me like they want to devour me alive. Like they want to take everything I have to give and beg for more."

He leaned in closer, until you could feel the brush of his lips against yours. "You're not here to be worshipped, domina. You're here to be fucked. Hard. Until you forget your own name and remember only mine."

His other hand slid down your back, coming to rest at the small of your back. He pulled you against him, the hard planes of his body molding to the soft curves of yours. You could feel every inch of him, the thick length of his cock pressing insistently against your stomach, the coiled strength in his thighs, the unyielding power of his chest.

"You're not like the others," he breathed against your lips. "You're a woman who knows what she wants. And what you want... is me."

He claimed your mouth in a brutal kiss, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that stole your breath. His tongue delved into your mouth, stroking along yours, demanding your surrender. And God help you, but you gave it to him. You melted against him, your body softening, your lips parting in a silent cry of pleasure as he plundered your mouth.

He kissed you until you were breathless, until your head was spinning and your body was aching for his touch. He kissed you until you forgot where you were, until all that mattered was the feel of his lips on yours, the heat of his skin, the strength of his arms around you.

And when he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark, his expression fierce. "So tell me, domina," he breathed against your ear, his voice a low, rough rumble that seemed to vibrate through your very bones. "What do you want from me tonight? And don't say you want to be fucked. I can give you so much more than that."

His hand slid lower, cupping the curve of your ass, squeezing the supple flesh. He pulled you harder against him, grinding his hips into yours, letting you feel the thick, hard length of him through the thin silk of your robes.

"I can make you scream until your throat is raw," he promised darkly. "I can fuck you so hard and so deep that you'll feel me for days. I can worship every inch of your body with my mouth and hands until you're trembling and begging for more."

He nipped at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "I can bind you to my bed and tease you until you're sobbing, until you're so desperate for release that you'll do anything I ask. Anything."

His other hand slid up your side, cupping the weight of your breast, his thumb brushing over the peak of your nipple through the silk. "I can make you come so hard that you'll forget where you are, who you are, until all that exists is the pleasure I give you."

He leaned back, his eyes burning into yours. "So tell me, domina," he breathed, a wicked, dangerous smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "What do you want from me tonight? And choose your words carefully, because I intend to give it to you. All of it. Every single, filthy, delicious inch."

"All of it, I want all of it. You hate me, I can feel it. So pour your hate in your thrusts. Hate Rome through me." You whispered breathlessly.

Anakin's eyes flashed with a fierce, feral light at your whispered words. A dark, cruel smile curved his lips as he stared down at you, his grip on your ass tightening possessively. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he spoke in a low, rough growl.

"Hate you? No, domina. I don't hate you. I despise you. I loathe every inch of your Roman arrogance, your entitled cruelty. I detest the way you think you can own a man like me, that you can buy and sell me like a piece of flesh."

His other hand slid up to wrap around your throat, his fingers curling around your delicate neck. He didn't squeeze, not yet, but the threat was there. The promise of domination, of control.

"But you're right about one thing. I will pour every ounce of my hatred into you. I will fuck you with all the rage and fury I feel for your kind. I will make you feel the wrath of a man who has been enslaved, beaten, and degraded for the entertainment of people like you."

He spun you around and bent you over the table, sweeping the contents to the floor with a clatter. The cold marble pressed against your skin through the thin silk of your robes as he pushed your skirt up over your hips, exposing your bare ass to the cool air.

"Keep this up, domina. Beg for it. Beg for me to hate-fuck you like the Roman whore you are. Beg for me to ruin your tight little cunt with my big, hard cock. Beg for me to make you scream and cry and plead for mercy."

He undid his belt with a swift, rough motion, the leather straps hitting the floor. His cock sprang free, thick and hard and already leaking with arousal. He gripped your hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to bruise as he rubbed the swollen head of his cock along your slit, coating himself in your juices.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll forget your own name. I'll make you scream until your throat is raw and your voice is gone. I'll make you come on my cock again and again until you're sobbing and begging me to stop. And when I'm done, when I've filled your greedy little cunt with my seed, I'll make you lick it off the cold marble floor, I'll make you taste the hatred I have for your kind. I'll make you choke on it, swallow it down until you gag and sputter, until you can't breathe for the taste of my contempt."

Anakin drove into you with a brutal, punishing thrust, his thick cock splitting you open, stretching you wide around his invading length. A guttural groan tore from his throat as he buried himself to the hilt inside your tight, clenching heat. He didn't pause, didn't give you a moment to adjust, but immediately set a hard, relentless pace, pounding into you with all the fury and hatred he harbored for your kind.

His hips slapped against your ass with each savage thrust, the lewd sound echoing obscenely in the chamber. One hand gripped your hip, fingers sinking into the soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises, while the other hand tightened around your throat, his calloused fingers digging into your delicate skin. Stars exploded behind your eyelids as he cut off your air supply, making your head swim and your heart race.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Anakin snarled, his voice rough and ragged with lust and rage. "Such a perfect little Roman cunt, squeezing my cock like you never want to let it go. But I'll ruin you, domina. I'll fuck you until you're nothing but a sloppy, dripping mess, until the only thing your greedy hole knows is the feel of my cock pounding into it."

He hammered into you harder, the force of his thrusts shaking the table beneath you, the marble biting into your hips. You could feel every ridge and vein of his thick cock as it dragged along your sensitive walls, bullying your poor, unprepared cunt with its relentless assault.

"Scream for me," Anakin demanded, his voice a dark, cruel command. "Let all of Rome hear you being claimed by their enemy. Let them hear how a slave is ruining their precious noblewoman, how I'm using your body to unleash all the hatred I've stored up for people like you."

He tightened his grip on your throat, making your vision blur and your lungs burn for air. Your body clenched around him, the lack of oxygen heightening every sensation, every brutal thrust, every cruel twist of his hips as he ground against your cervix.

"Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me," Anakin groaned, his breath hot against your ear. "You love this, don't you? Being used like a cheap whore ?"

"Gladiator…harder." You moaned loudly and arched your back, offering your chest to him.

Anakin growled in response to your wanton moan, a feral sound of pure, unbridled lust and rage. His hips surged forward with renewed vigor, slamming into you with enough force to rock the sturdy wooden table beneath you. The rough, calloused skin of his thighs slapped against the backs of yours as he rutted into you like a man possessed.

"Harder? You want it harder, you Roman slut?" Anakin snarled, his voice dripping with disdain and dark promise. "I'll give you harder."

He tightened his grip on your throat even more, cutting off your air supply completely as he redoubled his brutal assault on your cunt. The lack of oxygen made your head swim and your vision blur, but you could still feel every excruciating detail of his violation. The thick, pulsing heat of his cock plunging into your core over and over, the rough drag of his pelvis against your sensitive clit, the obscene squelch of your juices easing the way for his relentless thrusts.

Anakin leaned over you, his muscular chest pressing against your back, his breath ragged and hot against your ear. "I'm going to fuck you until you pass out," he promised darkly. "Until your mind goes blank and all you know is the feel of my cock splitting you open, claiming you, ruining you for all other men."

He punctuated his words with a particularly vicious thrust, slamming into you so hard the table shook and creaked beneath you. One hand gripped your hip, fingers sinking into the soft flesh hard enough to leave vivid bruises, while the other hand slid up to wrap around your breast, squeezing the supple mound roughly. He pinched and rolled your nipple between his fingers, sending jolts of painful pleasure straight to your core.

"I can feel you shaking, domina," Anakin taunted, his breath hot and ragged against your neck. "I can feel your greedy little cunt squeezing my cock, trying to hold onto it like it never wants to let it go. You don't want this to end, do you? You want me to keep fucking you, to ruin you, to make you forget everything but the feel of my cock splitting you open again and again."

He licked a stripe up your neck, his tongue rough and hot against your sweat-slicked skin. "I could fuck you forever, domina. I could keep you chained to my bed, keep your legs spread wide, and fuck you until you're nothing but a mindless, drooling mess. I could make you my personal fucktoy, my own Roman cocksleeve, ready and eager for me to use whenever I please."

Stars exploded in front of your vision and you climaxed harder than ever, your nails raking on his shoulders, accidentally scratching one of his wounds.

Anakin snarled in pain and rage as your nails raked down his back, your sharp nails digging into the fresh wounds from the arena. Hot, stinging pain lanced through him and he reacted on pure instinct, his hips slamming forward with a brutal, punishing thrust. He gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, his fingers sinking into your soft flesh as he ground his pelvis against yours, his cock buried to the hilt inside your spasming, clenching heat.

"Fuck, you little bitch!" Anakin roared, his voice echoing off the chamber walls. "Did I say you could scratch me? Did I give you permission to mark my skin like the filthy whore you are?"

He punctuated his furious words with a series of rapid, brutal thrusts, each one harder and more punishing than the last. The table shook and creaked beneath you, the marble biting into your hips as he fucked you with all the rage and hatred he felt for your kind, for your careless, cruel touch.

"Punishment is in order," Anakin growled, his breath hot and ragged against your neck. "I'll make you regret ever daring to mark me without my consent."

He pulled out of you abruptly, his cock slick with your juices, and flipped you over onto your back. Before you could catch your breath, he had your wrists pinned above your head, his much larger hand easily encircling them. He loomed over you, his muscular chest heaving, his eyes blazing with fury and lust.

"Apologize," he demanded, his voice a low, menacing growl. "Apologize for daring to mark me like a cheap harlot. Apologize for forgetting your place, for thinking you had any right to touch me without my express permission."

He leaned down, his face inches from yours, his breath mingling with yours. "Apologize, domina," he hissed. "Or I'll make you regret it in ways you never imagined."

Anakin's eyes flashed with a cruel, triumphant light as he watched you gasp and shudder through the aftershocks of your intense climax. He could feel your body still trembling beneath his, your cunt clenching and fluttering around his cock, trying in vain to hold onto him, to keep him buried deep inside your greedy heat.

"Look at you, domina," he purred, his voice a low, mocking rasp. "Coming undone on my cock like the desperate slut you are. I've barely touched you and you're already falling apart, already forgetting yourself in the throes of your pathetic pleasure."

Anakin stared down at your tear-streaked face, a look of utter disgust etched onto his handsome features. He pulled out of you abruptly, leaving your cunt empty and aching, your juices dripping down onto the cold marble table. With a rough, jerky motion, he tucked his still-hard cock back into his breeches and stepped back, putting some distance between your naked, wanton body and his own.

"Damn Roman whore," he muttered under his breath, his voice dripping with contempt. "All the same. Thinking with your greedy cunt instead of your brain. Just like the rest of your kind."

He shook his head in disgust, his dark blonde hair falling into his eyes. "You think you can buy a man's loyalty, his devotion, his very soul? You think you can own a warrior like me with your gold and your pretty words?"

Anakin's lip curled in a sneer as he looked down at you, his blue eyes hard and accusing. "You're no better than the rest of them. No better than the crowds in the arena, baying for blood and spectacle. You just want to use me for your own twisted pleasure, to sate your base, animalistic urges."

He turned away from you, his broad shoulders rigid with tension, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Get dressed, domina," he ordered coldly. "Cover up your shameful display. And then get out. I have no more use for you tonight."

With that, Anakin strode towards the door, leaving you naked and alone on the table, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your intense climax. He paused in the doorway, glancing back at you over his shoulder, his expression hard and unforgiving.

"And don't think this is over," he warned darkly. "Your kind always comes crawling back for more, like the addicted sluts you are. But I won't be so easy to seduce next time. I know your true nature now."

"The gods will punish you…" You whispered, sitting up.

Anakin laughed, low and sharp, the sound cutting through the dimly lit chamber like a blade. “The gods,” he scoffed, rolling his shoulders despite the weight of his chains. “Tell me, domina, what use do men like me have for gods?”

You tilted your head, your expression unreadable. “You do not believe in them?”

“Oh, I believe in them.” His smirk was bitter. “I believe in their cruelty. In their silence. The gods watch men like me suffer and do nothing.” His blue eyes locked onto yours, sharp as the edge of a dagger. “I do not pray to them. And if they are watching me, then let them know I spit on their names.”

Your fingers traced the rim of your goblet, the wine within dark as spilled blood. “And yet, perhaps the gods have not forgotten you.”

Anakin's expression hardened. “I have no patience for riddles, domina.”

You leaned forward, your voice dropping to something softer, something almost intimate. “Tell me, do you ever dream of things you do not remember? Faces you have never seen? A life that is not your own?”

His smirk faltered for just a fraction of a second—so brief, so fleeting that another might have missed it. But you did not.

Anakin shifted against the chains, his wrists flexing against the iron shackles, the muscles in his arms taut. “You ask strange questions for a noblewoman.”

“You give strange answers for a gladiator.”

The tension between you thickened, something unspoken coiling in the air. You watched the way his jaw clenched, the way his hands curled into fists as if bracing against something unknown.

You were playing a dangerous game. But then again, you always had.

The air was thick with the scent of sweat and incense as Anakin’s lanista—his owner—sprawled lazily on his cushioned seat, swirling his wine with idle amusement. “He is strong, domina,” the man drawled, gesturing toward Anakin. “Undefeated. A rare breed.”

You kept your gaze on Anakin, who stood beside the lanista, arms bound, his skin marred with fresh welts from his earlier punishment. He looked at you with nothing but disdain, but beneath it, you could feel something deeper—an unspoken challenge, a warning.

“I could buy him,” you said simply.

The lanista chuckled. “A fine choice, my lady. He would make a strong bodyguard, or perhaps something… more.” His eyes gleamed with lewd suggestion. “For the right price, he is yours.”

Before you could respond, Anakin snarled, the sound raw and full of venom.

“I belong to no one.”

His voice rang through the chamber like a war drum. Even bound, even kneeling in the presence of those who claimed ownership over him, there was no submission in him. Only defiance. Only fire.

Your heart pounded in your chest.

Foolish man.

Foolish, beautiful man.

The lanista scowled, yanking Anakin’s chains so hard his head snapped back. “You will belong to whomever I sell you to, slave.”

Anakin’s eyes found yours then, burning with fury. “Kill me if you want,” he said, voice low, unwavering. “But I will never bow.”

The room fell into a heavy silence.

And yet, as the lanista barked orders to have him dragged away, you could not stop watching him.

Anakin did not plead. He did not beg.

Even as he was pulled from the room, his head was held high, his gaze never leaving yours.

That night, Anakin slept on the cold stone of his cell, his body aching from the lashes, from the fights, from the weight of another day in chains. But when he closed his eyes, he did not dream of the Colosseum.

He dreamed of green fields, of wildflowers swaying in the wind. He dreamed of soft laughter, of hands weaving a crown of herbs, of sunlight on golden hair.

He dreamed of a woman.

He could not see her face, but he felt her presence—familiar, distant, like a name on the tip of his tongue.

When he woke, his breath was unsteady, his body covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

And for the first time in years, he was afraid.

Even in chains, a lion does not forget the taste of freedom. Even in death, a man does not forget the echo of love.

[irrelevantwriter]

An Emperor's Devotion

Pairing: Emperor Geta (Gladiator 2) x Female Reader/You

Warnings: NSFW, Ancient Rome type shit, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of bodily fluids, necessary floor sex and injury (for the plot)

Word Count: 2734

Summary: Part 3. Emperor Geta feels the need to prove a point.

A/N: Part three finds our favorite deviant emperor doing what he does best...serving cunt. And eating it. As always, there are liberties taken with Ancient Rome. We're all here for the smut anyways. And there might be a part four in the works. Maybe. Feedback is that good shit.💗

*Read Part One here

*Read Part Two here

*Masterlist

***********************

The uproarious cheers of Rome eclipsed your husband’s greeting as General Marcus Acacius made his way up the palace steps. 

You stood dutifully behind him, taking in the spectacle. The General and his army defeated another colony, expanding the Roman Empire once again. Another state of slaves for your insatiable lover. 

“General! Welcome home! Rome celebrates in your honor,” Geta announced, taking the General’s hand. Like a good soldier, he kissed the jewels bestowed upon the Emperor’s hand. 

“My greatest thanks, your highness,” Marcus replied, eyes shifting to you. “And the Empress,” he added, moving to take your own hand in his. 

You let him. 

He placed a stubble-laden kiss on your skin, something akin to desire crossing over his rugged features. 

You smiled, accepting his greeting, though you kept your composure. You could feel Geta’s eyes on you. At the slightest indication of disloyalty, the Emperor would have Marcus’ head. 

And perhaps yours. 

“Welcome home, General,” you responded, taking your hand back. 

Geta offered the General wine and a toast, to a new Rome. You remained at your husband’s side, watching the men talk of bloodshed and conquest. It made your stomach sour. 

“A feast will be held tonight. For your victory,” the Emperor announced, jolting you back into the conversation. 

“As you wish, Caesar.”

“And,” Geta started, a mischievous tone taking hold of his words. “Perhaps you might find yourself seeking the pleasures of the flesh? I offer you the best Rome has. Though I am aware you know that already. The whores love to speak of their dalliances with the finest of our Roman army.” 

Marcus stiffened, gaze darting to you. You could see he was embarrassed by the Emperor’s lewd offer though he tried to hide it. 

You were not naive to the thirst for women that most men held. The women of Rome did what they had to, and that often meant making themselves accessible to the men. The higher the status, the better for her. You were no better. You just happened to reach the top before anyone else. 

Your husband was playing a game you were very much aware of. You tried hard to keep your amusement concealed. Seeing a usually stoic man like the General become nervous was an entertaining sight indeed. 

Geta looked proud of himself. As if humiliating the General was his goal. It appeared he had succeeded. 

“I-I thank you, your highness. Your generosity is astounding. Though I do not think I will need…such services,” Marcus clumsily replied, eyes landing on anything but you. 

“Well, as you wish General. The offer stands,” Geta acquiesced, finally done playing with his toy. “My queen and I would love to entertain the masses, but we have business to attend to.” He reached for your hand, signaling your departure. 

“Of course, your highness.”

“We will see you at dinner, General.”

And with that, Geta led you away. You followed silently, finding it strange that he was headed to your chambers and not his own. 

Guards and maidens followed behind, but once you’d reached the doors of your quarters, he dismissed them. As he often did these days. He was not fond of the extra company.

He opened the door for you, letting you through. You breezed past him, making your way to the chaise and table near your balcony. As expected, wine and food awaited. 

“Nearly a years time we have been married,” he started, voice deeper than just moments before. “And you are still so difficult to read.” 

You smiled at that, removing the deep green palla from your shoulders. The material fluttered in the wind as it floated down to the chaise beside you. 

“That amuses you?” Geta questioned, coming forward to pour you both wine. His eyebrow was raised, eyes lined with coal. They pierced you, searching for the answer to his query. 

“No, Augustus. I am simply trying to understand why that bothers you so,” you replied, reaching for a grape dipped in honey. 

Juices exploded in your mouth, the flavor sweet yet bitter. You took another. 

“The General appears quite fond of you.”

You met your husband’s gaze, accepting the wine he offered. He stared down at you, testing you. He was playing a fool’s game.

“Most men are quite fond of me, Imperator. It’s why you chose me, is it not?”

You sipped from your glass, eyeing the man you’d married. He remained emotionless, as if thinking over your words. You, knowing where this tirade was surely headed, took matters into your own hands. 

“It is rather warm.” You placed your wine down, fanning yourself against a nonexistent heatwave. “Will you bathe with me?”

Geta, stunned by your sharp change in subject, scoffed, “My conversation boring you, wife?”

You stood, meeting him where he was rooted to the ground, as if one of many statues. You reached for his mouth, surprised when he let you. You could feel how rigid he was. Something had him wound tight. 

“I would rather have a different kind of conversation, my love,” you whispered, seeing surprise on his features when you rubbed honey into his lips. His tongue darted out to taste the sweetness, catching your fingertips as he did.

His eyes turned molten, his shoulders softened. His hands, as if of their own volition, grasped at you. 

“Distraction is a weapon. One you seem rather fond of.”

You laughed at his words, leaning in so that his breath mixed with yours. “I am only what you want me to be. If you want me to be a distraction, then I shall do what my Emperor desires.”

He kissed you. Long and slow and sticky with honey. Your bodies pressed against each other, heat bubbling to the surface. His rings caught in your hair, yours pulled at the gold embellished tunic he wore. Frankincense and jasmine collided as you indulged in all you both had to offer. 

“Dulcis distraction,” Geta breathed, chest heaving as he took in your kiss swollen lips. 

“You think me sweet, my love?” You teased, making him laugh.

“The only thing sweet about you is your taste. My queen does not have the capacity for sweetness.” 

He spoke with a reverence that made you shiver. And as his hands reached for your stola, you knew he was right. To be at his side, in front of all of Rome, was not for the faint of heart. You understood that. You became what was necessary to survive. You made Rome love you. You made your husband fall in love. You made him fall to his knees in pleasure. 

He was at your mercy. And so was his empire. 

“Come,” you beckoned softly, leading him towards your private bathing quarters. 

He followed, fawning after you out of sight of prying eyes. 

Steam billowed off the pool of milk and water. Flowers of every kind danced across the surface. Canisters of various oils and herbs lined the steps. One of your maidens waited in the corner and you dismissed her. 

You could hear your husband start to undress behind you. You followed suit. 

The water swayed as Geta walked into the warm bath. You heard him hiss, the sting of heat making him react. You laughed, letting your stola fall to your feet. He raised a hand toward you as you moved to the steps. You accepted the gesture, letting him help you into the inviting waters. 

“You keep your bath much too warm for my liking,” Geta gently admonished, taking in your nude form as you submerged yourself, rose petals clinging to your skin.

“You accuse me of being a relative of Pluto. Perhaps it is true,” you teased, letting him pull you towards him.

“I say that in jest.” 

He steadied you against his bare chest. Your nails raked over the muscle, tangling in the hair that rested there. It matched the trail leading down his taut stomach. A path you’d become well acquainted with in the last several weeks. 

“My Emperor jests? A shocking revelation,” you mocked, enjoying the way his eyes narrowed. 

His hands, while gentle at first, became demanding in their touch. He gripped your hips, releasing and then squeezing once again. 

A warning.

“What has you so troubled?” You dared to ask, seeing his jaw clench. A tell.

“You.”

You cocked your head at his reply, not understanding. 

“Many people covet what I have as the Emperor of Rome. I relish that,” he paused, fingers tracing up your sides. He moved in close, lips hovering over yours. “But I do not like to share.”

A shiver, a real one, ran up your spine at his words. It was a well known fact that Geta assassinated his brother Caracalla for the throne. Many agreed that his brother was unfit for such power. He was struck with a disease that affected his behavior. Behavior that had become quite outlandish. Even for the brothers. But there had been rumors. Rumors that Geta had killed him in front of their mother. A ruthless act. And for that reason, their mother had been sent away. Or so the rumors said. No one had laid eyes on her since. 

It appeared, it was all true. 

“Have I frightened you?” He whispered, a lone finger now tracing one of your nipples. The flesh budded at his touch. 

“No, Augustus.”

“You understand my position? Why I must watch men like Marcus Acacius closely?”

You nodded, biting your lip when he moved his ministrations to your other nipple.

“Men like that would kill me and take what’s mine in an instant,” he growled, suddenly taking hold of your chin. “Would you let them?”

“No. I wouldn’t,” you breathed. For the first time since marrying him, you were afraid. But beneath the surface of that lay the quicksand of arousal that always threatened to take you down. It sat heavy in your belly, accompanied by that familiar pump of blood between your thighs. 

Geta laughed at your words, as if not believing you. That didn’t stop him from taking your lips against his. His tongue invaded your mouth, twisting in invitation with your own. You desperately tried to keep up, feeling him harden beneath the water against you. 

“Follow me,” he breathlessly commanded, ushering you to the steps. 

You went, moving to sit at the stones edge when he gestured to do so. A chill made your skin prickle. You looked on in jealously, wishing to be back in the bath’s warmth with him. 

“Do not look so sorrowful, wife. I mean to take care of you. To remind you just how generous of an emperor I can be.”

He moved closer, forcing your legs apart. You resisted at first, unsure of the angle, but he didn’t seem to care. He pressed on, hands roaming up your thighs, catching wayward petals as he did. 

“Relax, my love.”

His mouth closed in, hot breath fanning over your damp curls. You struggled not to move, anticipating his touch. Needing it. 

The moment his lips laid upon your skin, you cried out. The strength in your arms gave way, your hands instead tangling in his hair. His tongue wasted no time in finding your opening, sliding in easily. 

He moved as you’d shown him weeks ago, his nose every so often bumping your bundle of nerves. Your nails scratched at his scalp and in return, his teeth lightly scraped over your sensitive flesh. Your thighs trapped his head, pleading with him to show mercy and praying he never stopped.

“Sweet like the honey she teased me with,” Geta murmured, adding his fingers to his torture. 

You writhed, the chill no longer felt on your skin. Lust now heated your veins from the inside out, making you feel as if you were being burned alive. 

“Geta…” you moaned, feeling him double his efforts at your call. 

Bursts of light began clouding your vision. Your limbs convulsed as if you were possessed, cries of passion echoing off the bath walls. Geta did not stop. 

“I-I cannot,” you whimpered, feeling overcome. You went to push his head away, but he was quicker, snatching your wrist.

“You can, my love. You’ll do as your emperor desires. Remember?”

His mouth and fingers took turns punishing you, pulling pleas of mercy from your lips. Geta’s name became a prayer. A prayer to the gods. 

When you had thoroughly soaked his hands and chin, he relented. You felt boneless, hardly more than a corpse. Geta’s roughened laughter touched your ears, his warmth suddenly enveloping you. 

Your eyes fluttered open, trying hard to focus as he wedged himself between your legs. He was hot and hard, seeking your body for relief. 

His mouth found your neck and suckled, paying no mind to the stone digging into the flesh of your back.

“My name on your lips is what undoes me. It is the sweetest sound to fall from your lips.”

Without warning, he pushed himself into your flooded walls. He grunted, seizing your mouth and making you taste your release. His chin smeared it across yours, giving you no choice in the matter. 

Your nails embedded themselves into his back, piercing the pristine skin. He growled, thrusting his hips that much harder. Your breath caught as he reached your depths. Depths that were once hollow but now remained full of him. 

“Pleasure yourself,” he commanded.

His movements were becoming unsteady. His heart pounded against yours. He was fast approaching his peak. And since you’d shown him what it was to please you, he’d been obsessed with having you join him. He claimed it felt different. Better. Tighter. Sweeter. 

Who were you to deny such a request?

Your fingers fumbled between your bodies, seeking the swollen bud just beyond your opening. Your touch caught his cock as he sheathed himself and you both moaned, the intrusion unfamiliar but welcomed. 

You could sense the tension mounting in your husband. See his brow furrowing and his biceps flexing. He was the sun god above you, red tresses making a halo of light.

Your fingers found the spot you so desperately needed, circling the bud. You met his gaze, opening yourself up to him. He lunged forward, taking a nipple into his mouth. You cried out when he tugged at the appendage. His thrusts quickened, the force causing your back to scrape against the ground. 

“Give yourself to me, Enchantress.”

And you did. 

Geta called you his enchantress, but if anyone had magic on their side, it was him. Time seemed to stop as you both plunged headfirst into the heavens. You clung to each other, waves of ecstasy washing over you. Your skin slid against each other, limbs tangled in an orgasmic mess. Warmth filled you as his spendings made a home in your womb. 

He collapsed atop you, head resting on your breasts. You welcomed the added weight, feeling grounded after you’d soared so high. Your heartbeats began to sync as your breathing slowed. Aches began to make themselves known at your back, but you paid little mind. 

“Did you prove your point?” You teased, your voice raspy with latent lust. 

Geta chuckled against you, shifting when you began to play with his hair. 

“I think I did if your backside is any indication,” he quipped, reaching to grab what he could of said backside.

You let him touch and grope you as he pleased, feeling him go soft inside you. Even then, he didn’t remove himself. He was superstitious about such things. Like every emperor before him, he yearned for an heir. He made sure you were aware of that fact. 

“I would not let them harm you, Augustus,” you finally said. 

He stiffened, understanding the meaning behind your words. He raised himself above you, smears of coal painting his face. 

“Out of fear or love?”

“Both.”

He accepted your answer.

“And you? Would you let them harm me?” You bravely pressed. 

He was silent for a moment, taking in your body beneath him. A small curve of his lips was the only indication of a smile. 

“I spend most days ensuring no harm comes to you, my love.”

You cupped his cheek, feeling wayward drops of his seed begin to leak from your depths. 

“Out of fear or love?” You countered.

“Devotion.”

And looking into his eyes, that’s all you needed. Empires and men alike had fallen for less. 

Part Four

[candycandy00]

The skeleton of an idea I had for a Kid x Reader fic. I might write a full version when I get time!

You’re a childhood friend of Kid’s. You were very close as children and he was very protective of you. He even said he wanted to marry you when the two of you grew up. 

After he left to become a pirate, you missed him terribly. You were excited to see his wanted poster, and you thought he looked so handsome. You’d always been in love with him. 

One day you decide you can’t wait any longer, you have to find him and ask to join his crew, even if you just cook or clean. So you go looking for him. 

You get kidnapped, and end up at a strange and terrifying “human auction” with a collar around your neck. They bring you out on stage to sell you, and you watch in horror as rich old men prepare to make bids.

As your eyes scan the crowd, you notice someone tall standing near the back. It’s Kid! You’d recognize him anywhere, even though it’s been years since you saw him last.

At the same time, Kid is watching the auctions out of morbid curiosity when you, a beautiful young woman, are brought out on stage. He jokes with his crew about buying you. But the longer he looks at you, the more familiar you seem. When you look at him, and your eyes meet his, he knows. He’s certain you’re the girl he loved years ago, the girl he wanted to marry someday. 

An older man is sitting a few feet away, talking loudly to his friend about how much he wants to buy you, shamelessly outlining all the depraved things he intends to do to you. He even laughs and says he loves to torture his sex slaves and watch them cry. 

The bidding begins, and you’re horrified as strange men keep placing bids while Kid remains silent. You look at him pleadingly, hoping he recognizes you. Should you call out to him? Just as you open your mouth to call his name, he suddenly places a huge bid that blows all the others out of the water. 

You’re so relieved, tears fill your eyes. 

Later, you’re taken to his ship. He’s walked right by you several times but hasn’t acknowledged you at all. You suppose he has an image to maintain in public, so you don’t do anything to jeopardize that. 

As for Kid, he has no idea what to do with you. He can guess why you came looking for him, but there’s no way in hell he’s letting you join his crew, where you’d be in constant danger and become wanted by the marines. 

His only plan is to pretend he doesn’t remember you and drop you off at the next populated island. In the meantime, he’ll be an asshole to you so you’ll never pull a stunt like this again. He’d much rather you hate him in safety than love him in danger. 

The first time he approaches you on his ship, in the privacy of his quarters, you run over to hug him. He doesn’t hug you back, instead lightly pushing you away. He denies knowing you, even when you tell him your name, even when you talk about things from your shared childhood. 

You know he’s lying and you tell him so, saying you came to join his crew, to help in any way you could because you miss him. 

His response is to tell you he doesn’t need you, he doesn’t remember you, and he’s dumping you on the next island. You argue, just like you did as kids. You’re not intimidated by him at all, even if he tries to act like a big scary pirate. You’ve known him too long for that. 

In frustration, and desperation to scare you away, he slams his hand into the wall beside you and leans down, looking as menacing as possible as he tells you to shut up and leave him alone. If you can’t be a good little slave, he’ll have his way with you. 

You blink up at him, heat rushing to your face as you give him a shy smile and say you’ve been hoping for that all along. 

He very quickly turns his back to you, swearing as he stomps out of the room. Out of your view, he curses himself for his own lack of control. He’s been with women before, one night stands during his travels, but he’s never been with someone he loves before. Now his face is red, like a damn virgin, at the thought of throwing you across his bed and fucking you until morning. 

That evening is torture for him, knowing the woman he’s loved for years is in his quarters, waiting for him, wanting him. He tries to resist, tries to avoid you and just focus on literally anything else. But, well, Kid is strong but he’s not that strong. 

He suddenly bursts back into the room, throwing off his captain’s coat as he goes. Within seconds he’s pulled your thin dress over your head and got you pinned against the wall, your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck as he plunges his huge, hard cock into your dripping pussy. 

You can only moan and whimper into his mouth as he kisses you, giving you everything you’ve been wanting from him. Hours later, after you’ve exhausted each other in many different positions, you’re lying in his bed, wrapped in his arms. 

He confesses that he never forgot you, that he never stopped thinking of you, but he still can’t take you with him. It’s too dangerous, and you’d end up being a weakness for his enemies to target. Reluctantly, you agree. He promises to come back and make you his Pirate Queen someday. 

The plan is to drop you off at the next safe island, but it’s at least a week away, and the two of you will thoroughly enjoy your time together until then. 

[pascallftv]

Attitude Adjustment

Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: Javier is assigned to watch over you after you had a run in with the cartel. Fed up with your attitude, he decides to give a lesson.

Word count: 2.2k

Content: 18+ MDNI, mature content: sex with minimal plot, unprotected sex, oral (m and f receiving), spanking, pussy slapping, edging, choking, spitting, hair pulling. (This is just filthy)

Your apartment was stuffier than usual, but you couldn’t blame the humid Colombian air. To blame was the DEA agent kicked back on your sofa chair, his legs propped up on your coffee table. He was tossing up an apple and catching it. The sound of it slapping his palm was the sole sound in the apartment aside from the ticking analog clock on the wall. You were seconds away from slapping that mustache off his fucking face.

Javier Peña. A DEA agent who was so graciously assigned to watching over you. You weren’t directly involved with the cartel, but a right place at the wrong time situation landed you under the protection of the DEA as crucial intel. Lucky for you, you were assigned the most irritable, arrogant asshole on the planet. It was evident Javier wanted to be anywhere else but stuck in that cramped apartment. He’d much rather be out in the field with Agent Murphy where all the action was, but low and behold, here he was babysitting intel.

“Jesus Christ, can you stop?” You snapped, the sound of the apple making you want to rip every hair follicle out of your scalp. Your arms were crossed as you sat on the couch, a scowl drawn across your face. Javier shot daggers at you with his brown eyes, gripping the apple with so much force that he was about to make it explode under his fingertips.

“Watch your tone.” Javier seethed. He leaned forward, dropping the apple on the table. He sunk back into the chair, rubbing his chin with his thumb and forefinger as he observed you.

He hated to admit that you were one of the most gorgeous women he’d ever seen. During his time in Colombia, he’d taken countless women to bed, but none of them even came close to you. Perhaps part of his irritation towards you was due to his underlying sexual frustration. The first time he met you after he was assigned to you, he was immediately drawn in by the innocence behind your eyes. He knew you weren’t guilty of anything, but you were a precious witness. If only you hadn't been at that convenience store that day; now you were a target for the cartel with knowledge you weren’t supposed to have.

“You’d be a whole lot prettier if you’d just smile.” Javier sneered, smirking at you with a malicious smile. You closed your eyes and bit the inside of your lip. You were fighting every urge in you to not beat the absolute shit out of the man in front of you.

“I wouldn’t particularly say I'm in a situation to smile, Peña.” You retorted.

The way your arms were crossed pushed your breasts up, leaving them on perfect display for Javier’s wandering eyes. He pinched his bottom lip between his index finger and thumb as he stared you down.

“A little bundle of joy you are.” Javier nagged, testing your patience more and more as the seconds passed by.

“I don’t need you to sit here and fucking nit pick me.” You fumed, your teeth clenching. God, you were so agitated. “So piss poor at your job that you have to babysit me while your colleagues get to have all the fun, huh?”

Oh, that pissed him off. He shot up off the chair and bounded towards you, grabbing your face in his hand. He gripped your cheeks with so much force that he was mushing your lips together.

“If I really fucking wanted to, I could leave you right now and I could have you killed by the cartel in a matters of minutes.” Javier spat, his hot breath fanning over your face. “Is that what you want? Those men are fucking relentless, baby. They’d use you as a sex slave then skin you alive and love every goddamn second of it.”

You swallowed the lump that was forming in your throat. As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. You were in no situation to be left alone, you’d be dead in no time.

“I don’t see why you fucking care.” You provoked, your voice muffled by his grip on your face. You kicked your lips as Javier removed his hand from your cheeks, slowly snaking it down to your throat. He gripped the sides of your throat, lowering his mouth centimeters away from your face.

“That's the thing.” He began. “I don’t fucking care. Yet here I am, watching over you like the scared little mouse you are.”

You gulped, the expression on your face softening. You couldn’t help the throb that radiated through your center at his hand wrapped around your throat and the proximity between your lips.

“Just maybe.” He paused, his eyes flickering down to your lips. “You need someone to discipline that filthy mouth of yours.”

Javier’s grip on your throat tightened, him only applying pressure to the sides of your neck so as to not cut off your air supply completely. He lowered his mouth so close to yours that they were just barely grazing. His other hand lowered to your chest, getting a palm full of one of your breasts. He squeezed it firmly, air hitting your lips as he groaned. His thumb dragged over your pebbled nipple that was peaking through the thin fabric of your shirt.

“Tell me, is that what you need?” Javier barked, his eyes locked on yours. Your heart was racing, his touch lighting your skin on fire. You were undeniably aroused by his forceful touch.

“Yes.” You squeaked, just barely audible, but it was enough for Javier.

He suddenly grabbed you by the waist, flipping you around on the couch. You were on your knees, using your arms to catch yourself on the back of the couch. Your ass was perched up perfectly for him, the round of your ass peeking underneath the short little skirt you were adorning. His hand snaked up the back of your thigh, squeezing your ass cheek before pulling it away to slap down on the flesh. You gasped, turning your head to look back at Javier. His brows were taught and his lips parted as he watched the way the supple skin of your ass turned red from his smack.

“Such a pretty ass, baby.” He grunted, bending down to grab your throat behind, then dragging it down the length of your back, following the bumps of your spine. His fingertips dragged down to your lower back, looping under the waistband of your skirt, pulling back the elastic to slap it against your waist. You inhaled sharply, laying your forehead down on your arms.

Javier smoothed his hands under your skirt, flatly rubbing the skin of your ass. He pushed up your skirt, leaving your rump on display for him. He snaked his finger under the thin fabric of your thong, pulling it up so that it pressed deep against your folds. You couldn’t help the quiet moan that fell from your lips.

“Me encanta tu culo, ángel.” Javier purred, leaning down to bite the skin of your ass cheek, leaving the ghostly imprint of his teeth.

Your pussy was throbbing at your core. You squeezed your thighs, you desperately needed some sort of friction.

“Ah, I don’t think so.” Javier taunted, his hand falling between your legs to split them back open. He laid a slap against your heat, and you groaned out in response. “I’d sit still if you know what’s good for you.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt Javier’s fingertips tracing the outline of your folds over the thin fabric of your thong. You exhaled sharply when his finger circled once over your click, your thighs jolting under you. Javier chuckled behind you, amused at how desperate you were. Your heart race increased as you heard Javier undoing his belt buckle and unzipping his jeans. He kicked them off his legs, not even a pair of boxers underneath. He unbuttoned his shirt, haphazardly tossing it on the floor next to his jeans. His erection was throbbing as he stroked himself at the sight of you on all fours for him. He reached out, sliding your thong down your legs and off your ankles, before bending forward, his cock brushing against your drenched center from behind. He leaned over your back, grinding against you as he slid your thong in your mouth, muffling your quiet moans.

“Finally shutting that bratty mouth of yours up.” Javier whispered in your ear, planting a kiss against your neck.

His crotch left yours and as he kneeled down behind, grabbing your ass cheeks with his hands, spreading them apart to see all of you. He spit onto your heat, his saliva mixing with your soaking arousal. He reached his thumb up, circling your heap of nerves before lowering his mouth to you, laying it flat against your folds. You moaned into your thong, fisting the back of the couch.

“So fucking wet for me.” Javier grunted against your center.

He dove his tongue into your opening, fucking you with the wet muscle, his thumb still circle your clit. You felt your abdomen begin to tighten, the heat shooting through your thighs and up your belly. You were close, but Javier knew that. You were wound up as tight as you could be just before your climax when Javier pulled away completely, your muffled cry portraying your frustration. You clamped your thighs together, it almost hurt you were so aroused.

“I fucking said no.” Javier growled, parting your legs once more.

Without warning, Javier slammed into you from behind, filling you completely with his thick length. You cried out, grabbing onto the couch for leverage as he pounded into you. His thrusts were laced with anger, the sound of him slipping into your sloppy cunt filling the air. His hand latched onto your hair, snapping you head back as he relentlessly fucked into you, your eyes rolling back in your head. His tip was punching your cervix, and the pain was mixing with the pleasure, your mind completely cock drunk. His other hand reached from your throat, choking you from behind as he bent the damp skin of his torso over your back.

“You’re a cock slut, huh?” Javier seethed through his teeth, your skin slapping together as he maintained his hasty pace.

You panted through your thong as Javier released his grip on your neck and hair, letting your head go slack. His hand latched onto your thigh, lifting it to wrap around his hip to fuck you even deeper. You moaned, your eyes squeezing shut and your ears practically ringing.

He kept plowing into you, and you were dumbfounded at his stamina. His pace never faltered, his cock slamming into your wet cunt loudly.

“Being such a good girl for me, might just let you cum.” Javier panted, his free hand smacking your already red ass, the sting radiating pleasure through your core.

You grunted, his fingers snaking down to toy with your clit, pinching it softly then rubbing circles against it. You were completely and utterly fucked. Your orgasm hit you at once, the electric pleasure coursing through you. Your vision went blurry and your hearing was gone completely as your orgasm erupted through you, your abdomen feeling like it exploded.

“Fuck!” Javier shuddered as your release flooded over his cock, the sounds of his strokes becoming wetter and sloppier. Your walls clamped down around him, milking him to his climax. Still coming down from your high, Javier slipped out of your and grabbed your hips to flip you around, you on your knees, your eyes completely fucked out.

“Open.” Javier demanded, sliding his forefinger and middle finger into your mouth, dragging them along your tongue.

He removed his fingers and slid his cock inside your mouth in a swift motion, you wrapping your lips around him as he thrusted into you, his tip grazing the back of your throat. You moaned against his shaft, the vibrations sending a wave of pleasure through him. His head fell back, his mouth gaping open in pleasure as he felt his orgasm hit him, his release hitting your throat in thick ropes. He held the back of your head, your tongue wrapping around him as he milked out his high, painting your mouth with every bit of his spend.

“Good girl.” Javier told you as you swallowed.

He pulled his softening length of your mouth, his chest heaving with pants. His hair stuck to his damp forehead, and he sat down on the couch beside you, relaxing into the back of the couch. You gazed over at him, watching as his golden complexion glistened under the dim lighting of your living room. You sat back, propping your head up with your hand under your chin while you observed him.

“Do you fuck all of your informants like that?” You said, your voice raspy from Javier fucking your throat.

“Only the ones who need an attitude adjustment.” Javier mocked, rolling his head over to look at you.

“Hmm. I think I might be developing a chronic case of bad attitude.”

[lesb0]

The reason men are conservative even when they believe they are liberal/left, is because they all want women to be slaves. They want open access to easily obtained sex, unpaid emotional/household/childcare labor, to use a uterus to produce males, and to control a woman under his dominance in exchange for I love yous.

men hate that the evil feminazis have taken away that which they considered their birthright. the lifestyles they saw their mothers forced into were destroyed in 1, 2, 3 powerful blows of feminism that have crushed true male power. they can never get back to those conditions again. even the most subjgated, brainwashed women all have the option to LEAVE before they die in servitude.

There is no possible amount of women being kind, sweet, or loving/sexually open to men that can ever train them out of societal misogyny. men are trained to be misogynists the second they are born and will never truly learn to stop being misogynistic, because misogyny fundamentally predicates the entire male world view and all their life experiences. He will only be able to train himself into different behaviors around women.

Likewise, mean dykey women like me who are nasty, bullying, and cruel to men can never cause men to be radicalized into hitlers. Men radicalize each other though constant social messages that tell them that women owe them something.

[disinherited-dornishman]

Personal thoughts on Team Black, Rhaenyra, and Misogyny.

This is going to be a messy one as regard structure but also topic. Stay with me, people.

I've been seeing a lot of accusations of misogyny against anti-team black, anti-rhaenyras, and anti-hotd posters for criticisms uttered, and I can't help but be a little dumbfounded. Like are we really doing this? Pointing out that Rhaenyra was reckless for having 3 bastards is not misogyny. I'm sorry, as much as you guys might love your make-believe character, I'm just not humoring it. Not if you're going to make the conversation about feminism and sexual liberation.

Okay, let me just say. Rhaenyra having Jace I can understand. An experiment that was stupid but also respectable in a way, because Laenor was definitely traumatized and not fit for keeping up their agreement, so I can support that mistake wholeheartedly for the empathy behind it. But Luke and Joffrey? After finding out that her genes get overriden by Harwin's?

Plain stupid. I'm sorry, that's just playing with fire, especially since she should know how precarious her position would be after the precedent of the Great Council that robbed Rhaenys of her birthright on the basis of her gender.

And like, I'd be fine with it if the show didn't portray it as this girlboss, don't-give-a-fuck win, because all it does is highlight how ignorant the showrunners are about the world in which their show is set! I liked selfish and decadent Rhaenyra in the books, she didn't need to be treated as a hero for it.

And the fact that the rest of the world and everyone in it is portrayed as being at fault for not going along with what's basically that society's equivalent of a political clown show is absurd. Pointing this out doesn't mean I'm condoning it either, I'm criticizing the show's lack of self-awareness. It's so obvious the showrunners are disconnected from the their world.

GRRM writes all his characters as believable people grown up in a medieval society, but critiques it through his own modern moral lense in a way that's seemless, yet in this show they use characters as mouthpieces to spout modern feminist and egalitarian ideals from characters who are ruling class. Who the fuck are they kidding? If you want to make a feminist show, don't use bourgeoisie feminism!!! Idgaf about some Princess' sexual liberation while she's allowed to hold feasts that rips the food from the tables of peasants! There's nothing inspiring about that!

Rhaenyra, one of the single most bourgeois figure in the show, is supposed to be praised for her "sexual liberation" when it literally threatens the stability of the entire realm, and directly caused a war in which countless sexual atrocities were committed and will still be committed? Forgive me if I can't find it in me to be inspired.

If you want the show to be feminist, display the themes through the people at the bottom, the normal workers, the whores, the thieves, the daytalers and smiths and carpenters and undertakers and farmers, etc etc. Don't ask people to cheer for a reckless white woman from a colonizer background with a biological WMD at her disposal for breaking the social contract of a ruling class SHE'S A PART OF and risking destabilizing her entire country, it's fucking insulting! And don't get me started on the gender essentialism of the whole "women good, men bad" horseradish horseshit.

I'd love to discuss and analyze these concepts if we're talking about Rhaenyra's character arc, her as a person, and the themes of patriarchy that one can glean through her. But if we're talking actual, meaningful, proletariat feminism that means something to the medieval society they live in?

You wanna praise this brave monarch for sexually liberating herself, go ahead and praise the female Romans in Spartacus while you're at it. Praise their sexual liberation when they avail themselves of sex slaves taken from Thrace and Gaul and wherever else the Roman Empire had reach and rape them for fun. Understand I'm not comparing Rhaenyra's actions with having her kids with Harwin to rape, I'm pointing out power dynamics. And at least that show had the decency to show that the patrician romans were cruel and vile alongside their humanity, unlike HotD which seems to insist its ruling family of dragonriding depraved incestuous monarchs are actually virtuous while literally having Meleys burst through the floorboards and massacre a crowd.

P.S.: for any Anti-Rhaenyras, please don't start shit about her unless you wanna discuss how the writers fucked up her beloved character. I actually liked her in the books and she should've gotten a bigger part than Daemon, so don't slander her all willy nilly. It's unconstructive and I feel no desire to engage.

[sashi-ya]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟑 DAY 8: SEX MACHINE Vinsmoke Brothers 𝘹 𝘍! 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Requested by: @shogunfura ➡ Hi hi Sashi 😊 I saw your kinktober Event and you know how much I love the vinsmokes, soooo I neeeed to request something. I was thinking about day 8 sex machine if it's not already taken. So as an extra kink I would say foursome, cause I would like all three of them 🤤 Gender should be female with she/her pronouns please 😊 I hope you feel better these days. I know that you had a hard time and I just want to let you know that I'm rooting for you, even though I'm not that active. I always appreciate the time and effort you put into your fics. Keep up the good work, I love to read your entrys 🙈😊 ➡ thank u so much sweetheart, please enjoy! 💖💖 tw: mdni. usage of a "sex machine". tubes, inflation, suction and filling with liquids (heavily inspired on those echhi comics with tubes and tentacles :P). oral. vag. nipple play. depravity. could be considered dark content, so read it under your own risk. 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Prince Ichiji… what- what is this?” “Our new invention, do you like it (Name)?” “I- yes… ngh…”

You were used to have fun with the Germa princes. They don’t treat you like a slave like they do to other women; you could say are one of them. Being the princess of another reign aligned to the Germa 66 one, you are free to visit them as they are to visit you. And those visits include rough, savage, violent sexual encounters. Sometimes together, sometimes with one of the sibling. But all of them based in pure lust and depravity that fill your hollow hearts.

That Sunday afternoon, after getting tea with the guys, they invited to meet their new “toy”.

You should have at least suspected. It should have been clear to you that what were you gonna fid inside that sterile lab looking room was machinery for… pleasure.

A table, similar to a hospital bed, lies in the middle of the room. Around several computers with a variety of tentacle like tubes.

“Would you like to be the first one to try, Princess (Name)?” Vinsmoke Niji asks, placing his hands on your shoulders.

You don’t think much, you have no choice but to cooperate. The one asking is the least comprehensive than the three of them.

“Mh… yes” you murmur, as your royal attire gets already untied by those irreverent hands.

And soon, completely nude, you are invited to sit on the cold surface of that “bed”.

Ichiji Vinsmoke comes closer to you, as he is the one entitled to operate the main computer.

“There… get comfortable for me, ok?” he says, pushing the button ON on a wide keyboard on what looks like the main console of the machine.

You wait in silence, smiling uncomfortably to the two brothers looking at you with their pants already tenting. If they were animals, they be frothing at the mouth. The reflex of your nudity over the metallic bed gives them a beautiful, mirrored image of your already wetting sex.

A few sounds catch your attention, and soon you notice Ichiji holding the first tube in his hands.

“So, the first one should be connected to… your right nipple” he murmurs, as if he was a doctor ready to perform surgery on a patient. Except that you are able to listen, and completely awake for that matter.

The tube instantly attaches to your nipple with negative pressure, imitating the sucking motions of their lips.

Then, with no words but a side smirk, Ichiji connects yet another tube to your other nipple.

You are already trying to stop yourself from squirming, as the sucking intensifies, and it feels absolutely amazing.

“You are liking it already, (Name). Aren’t you?” Yonji asks, coming closer to you by the other side of the bed.

You nod, biting your lips but never taking all of the attention away from Ichiji. He is the one controlling the mysterious sex machine, and you wonder what else will be attached to -or inserted in- your body at any moment.

And indeed, in his hand he takes yet another tube but this time with no attachment by the end of it.

He shows it to you with that smirking that never fades away from his lips. Your already desperate façade reflects on his cherry red glasses.

“Now, we have already played with vibrators. But I believe never with a suction toy, right?” he asks you, pondering something.

“I- no- no. we ne-ngh-ver” you barely answer as the sucking in your nipples become stronger every second it passes, with different patterns that you are mostly sure will be imitated in your sex.

“Good, suction it is then. Don’t worry, though. There will be vibration either way” he says, laughing at Niji who apparently enjoys that last part most than the rest.

An attachment, that reminds you of an oxygen mask, gets fixed into the tube and such tube gets directed towards your sex.

Immediately after, the suction begins. Pumping air can be felt, and your clit feels like exploding in a matter of seconds. This time it is almost impossible for you to rest still.

As you squirm, receiving a pleasure ever taken by your body, you notice Yonji’s desperate erection coming closer to your lips.

You wonder if that’s all, but you are surely wrong. And even if you wish to be sucking his dick right now, your squirming motions aren’t making it easy.

“Ichiji, she won’t stop moving” Yonji grunts, protesting as your lips can’t surround his shaft comfortably as he wishes.

“That’s why you should wait, but if you can’t let me hold her still for you” he says, typing a couple of unknown words on the computer.

You widen your eyes, not knowing exactly what’s about to happen but soon you learn cold metallic straps have trapped you against the bed.

“There, beast. Fuck her mouth” Ichiji says, while your mouth receives the impertinent sex of the youngest of them all.

You aren’t mad as the salty flavour of his precum fills your tongue, but you aren’t definitely comfortable either. The shackles are hurting your wrists and ankles, but pleasure is stronger to notice such pain.

As you gag and tear up from the deep rams of Yonji’s dick against your throat, you feel an explosive climax reaching you. You let it happen, you don’t need to hold back, you really needed relief.

But a single orgasm won’t be enough, and nor you are having a time off after it. In fact, Niji, who is standing by your feet is ready to play with your body too.

“Ichiji, let go one of her feet” he asks, in between your muffled moaning and the sound of your skin slapping against the bed.

The red-haired brother surely turns his eyes white but allows your right leg to be freed. Niji, traps it and takes your toe into his mouth. Who knew the blue demon liked feet that much.

He gets your toe completely dampened and then continues with the rest of the feet, only to take it to his freed sex.

“Move it up and down, bitch” he moans, while you feel the wetness of his sprouting precum on his tip, mixing with his saliva.

And to his grunts, Yonji add his. Filling, with no shame, your mouth of his cum. You choke with it, giving them the imagery of white sticky product running through the commissure of your lips.

“That’s good, bitch” Yonji celebrates, cleaning -smearing- your face off his own cum.  

You blink repeatedly, with your head in the clouds and probably unaware of what’s coming for you next.

And it is, indeed, the second brother who’s already crawling on top of the bed. He is not willing to wait, and apparently your foot against his shaft isn’t satisfying him no more.

Ichiji laughs at your reaction when seeing Niji topping you all of a sudden. He pulls the suction cup on your sex, making you mewl. It didn’t hurt, indeed, it felt amazing.

“Look at how inflamed you are… so pretty” Niji laughs, playing with your swollen labia and squirting liquids.

You swallow the left overs of Yonji’s cum, it is hard to do so as it sticks down the walls of your throats. But you don’t mind, you will drink plenty of water after -that if, you survive this-.

The sudden intrusion makes you whine, but it does not surprise you. Niji’s dick has been several times inside you, and this is yet another one of those. However, as you are swollen, a lot more sensitive and needy, the ramming motions of his hips are better than ever.

Ichiji has release your other foot so that your legs are now resting on Niji’s shoulder. But still, you wonder what is his gonna do next.

By the side of your eye, you take a swift look at what he holds in his hands, and it is yet another tube he seems to be preparing.

Several are the minutes of uncontrollable and merciless fucking Niji blesses you with, and several are also the times you come with him and the sucking cups on your nipples still attached to you.

And right after he finishes filling you up, it’s time for the first born to have fun. Him whose king qualities always shine the brightest, moves his brother to the side before kissing your lips with a soft peck.

But don’t let it fool you. He might be more delicate, and maybe even more put together… but the red haired one, is the cruellest of them all.

“See this, (Name)? Do you know what this is?” he asks, showing the tube in his hand. It is different from the rest, it looks to be dripping with some kind of lubrication liquid.

“N- no… wha- what is it?” you ask, this time for real scared.

He smirks, taking off his glasses and flashing his blue irises to you. “Ah… this is my special one. My creation” he scoffs, walking slowly to your feet.

“See… you have just experienced suction and penetration separately. But, now I want you to experience everything and more at the same time”

A couple of shackles are now holding your legs spread apart to almost feeling like breaking your body in half. You understand that in case pleasure gets too high, you won’t be able to even close them as a natural response.

“Now, allow me to insert this… you will feel your womb a little… full” Ichiji says, sticking that cold tube into you.

A soon warm and cold mix of some liquid begins to fill you up; you feel a bulge forming in your lower belly.

“Wh- what is it?” you ask, with widen eyes but still squirming because it feels unexpectedly good.

“It’s a bio liquid I developed, it will enhance your sensations” he informs you, violently pressing down your belly. “Try to hold it…” he jokes, knowing too well it would be almost impossible to do so.

Yet, your walls work hard not to let a single drop scape your womb. And it makes you tremble, as the pressure plays against your G spot like nothing before.

“Ichi-Ichiji… this- is amazing…” you huff. No amount of air is enough.

“I know, right… but what if I add a little bit of this? will you be able to hold it in?” he murmurs, while the tube inside of you begins to vibrate.

You close your eyes. Painfully trying to stop the contents inside of you to come out… this time, losing the battle, dripping down the liquids all over the bed, having yet another orgasm…

“Honey… you are ready for me now” “Fuck her rough, brother!”

taglist: @stephisokay @henrioo @shuzuiikoii @bullbonez @fengxinwifutobecalled @i-started-reading-fanfics-at12 @crimsonlikeshellsing @weebare808 @thestarwasborn @bookandyarndragon @cyberdazetragedy @uzxotic and @kwnblack because come on, vinsmokes are our guilty pleasure 💖🤭

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 46

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: 1% plot, aphrodisiac use, no holes barred, group sex/orgy, lite kink (bit of shibari, bit of breeding, degradation, praise, domination), sex workers

I'm pretty proud that I could write this much smut; sorry it took so long!

Doing Business

Kid was getting impatient. A minute ago he had half a dozen women fawning over him and now he had just one. Don't get him wrong, she was super hot. But why did the rest all run off to Y/N? It seemed the rest of the crew was dealing with the same problem, though none of them seemed to mind. One pretty lady in their lap at a time was enough to keep them occupied. If he was gonna pay good money, he wanted the full experience. He was soon distracted by barely contained tits in his face as the woman hand-fed him. Kid had told the madame that he wanted to be treated like the Pirate King, after all, he would be in due time. 

You were ushered into one of the back rooms by what felt like hundreds of hands and excited giggles. The woman you knew as Jade held your hands in hers seated across from each other on luxurious stools. She kissed both of your cheeks and had tear streaks down her own even though she was clearly happy. You were honestly surprised at yourself for remembering her name. Your paths crossed very briefly when you had attacked the ship her and some other women were being held captive on. There wasn't supposed to be any 'merchandise' on the ship, but they had failed to offload the cargo when they didn't get a fair offer from the skin trader. The only one that was inadvertently hurt was Jade. Her hip had been crushed by falling debris and you had to carry her off the ship. You had done your best to set it but there wasn't much you could do for her. At the next safe island, you had made sure they had a place to stay for a few nights and helped them as much as you could before setting off. 

"I knew you weren't gone! They kept saying you were dead but I didn't believe it for a second." Jade gestured at the rest of the girls who were knelt down or standing near you. "These are some of the other women you've set free, either the same night as me or from different places. They all seem to find me somehow." 

"I was gone for some time, just stranded on an island. The pirates I came here with rescued me." You left out the bit where you tried to kill each other. "I don't understand. Why are you all still doing... this? I thought you would all return home or find work that you actually enjoy." 

Jade laughed. "Yeah we get that a lot. It's different. We work for ourselves now. Some of us did this sort of thing before we were captured and some of us were taken so young we don't have any other marketable skills." Jade paused. "We can choose our own clients and we can turn anyone we want down. And what's not to like, especially when clients look like your pals out there. We're completely free to make our own decisions. Thanks to you."

"Any decent person would do the same thing. There's a lack of decent people in the world is all." 

"So if you're with them," she gestured in your crewmate's direction, "have you stopped the whole Sea Snake thing?"

"Course not." Seeing these women made you more resolute in your personal mission. 

Jade smiled. "Good." 

A thought occurred to you. You could help Jade more than you had those some odd years ago now that you had a Devil Fruit. "Hey. I have some new abilities. Would you like it if I fixed your hip? Correctly this time."

She happily accepted and made a few more requests on behalf of her girls when you explained your power. When you were done, Jade no longer limped, and her and her girls were free of the slave marks that marred their skin. You had also noticed that a few of the girls had matching tattoos.

"What with the snake tattoos?"

"Oh! You didn't make the connection?" According to Jade, they were in honor of you, just as the club itself was, hence the name and the entrance decor.

It was a bit embarrassing. You didn't feel like you were special enough to be praised in this manner. You did what was right.

Jade stretched her newly healed leg and walked around on it. "This is incredible. I haven't walked without pain in so long." You winced knowing that it was your fault. She must have noticed. "Please don't feel bad. A little wince is better than being traded like meat." A smug grin crept across Jade's face. "I haven't been able to be on top in ages." She turned to you. "Say, which one of your comrades wouldn't mind giving this hip a test drive?" 

"Probably any of them, but if you want to be on top, probably the masked blonde one or the gray-blue-haired one. Sorry, I forgot you knew their names, Killer or Heat."

She nodded. "Girls, treat Y/N to some relaxation." She pointed to a few other girls. "You come with me. You've kept our guests waiting long enough." 

You were whisked away yet again to another chamber, this time with a bath. The girls stripped you down and languidly lathered you up, taking their time, not allowing you to lift a finger. All you had to do was lay back and relax. Their touch was gentle, every now and then their fingers grazed are sensitive areas seemingly by accident, but it was all part of the experience. They put you in a silk robe and led you into a chamber with a large bed. The light was low, lit only by hundreds of candles. The scent was foreign to you, yet very pleasant. You already felt relaxed from the warm bath. Next, each girl was stationed at a different part of you, rubbing massage oil into your skin with skilled hands. An interesting shot was offered to you in a small glass, a special tincture to help you relax. You let your head fall back as they worked every muscle with increasing pressure. There was even someone at your head massaging your scalp. You felt someone put something soft over your closed eyes. What they neglected to let you in on was that this was the aphrodisiac room, where everything was carefully crafted to heighten and entice your senses, the candles, the massage oil, the food, even the material of the sheets. You hadn't begun to feel the effects yet, currently feeling like you were melting into the bed itself. 

Elsewhere, Wire was allowing himself to give up control, being patient as his body was contorted and bound by silk rope. Every knot made his dick twitch. The girls were more than happy to stroke him or give him a kitten lick as a tease. When they were satisfied that he was begging hard enough, they would allow him a release. However, currently, they were keen on touching each other in front of him, not allowing him any touch or taste. Blood rushed to his cock, making it stand at full attention. It was harder than he knew for the girls to resist touching such an impressive member. His usual self would want them in his position, he would want them to beg. He rarely allowed himself the opportunity to play the other role. Any movement of his hips or flex of his muscles made the ropes dig harder into his skin. 

"His cock is so desperate for us. Look at it weeping." One of the girls blew air across it, making Wire shiver. "You want us to touch it so badly don't you. What kind of pathetic man would grovel to two whores?" 

He clenched his teeth to stifle a whine. Wire's cock ached from the absence of touch. He watched as the girls took turns tasting each other, cumin on each others' tongues. One of the girls took her own slick and wiped it down his shaft in one stroke. He let the groan out this time. More pre-cum leaked from him. He was in a kneeling position on the bed with his thighs spread apart. Another of the girls backed her cunt up to him without touching him. He could feel the warmth though, and he hissed as the ropes dug into him again, instinctively trying to rut against her. The other girl dove her fingers into her partner, demonstrating her wetness by eliciting squelches from her pussy. She removed her fingers and held her open so Wire could get a good look at the glistening pink walls. 

"Please. Touch me. Use me to get off." Wire gave in. "I-I want to be..."

"What do you want?"

"I want to be your sex toy." 

It would have been embarrassing how quickly he came when he was finally sheathed within one of them, but he didn't care because it felt so good and because he was hard again soon after. 

In the next room, Heat was sticky. One after the other, girls took turns riding his face. Heat loved eating pussy, so it was no wonder what he wanted to do with his time. his face was coated in the various combined juices of his partners. He licked his lips and groaned. The sweet, metallic taste of pussy clung to his tongue. He had cum a few times without his cock even being touched, gooey white stripes were scattered on his belly. Using it as a lubricant, one of the girls ground her center against his abdomen. Another was riding his thigh. Heat was a giver. He got off on getting other people off. He loved watching the pleasure take over another's features while they used him. He loved feeling the wetness against his skin or his tongue.

Usually, he enjoyed being degraded. Today, however, he was being praised, and by the Madame herself, who had joined in late. He was being such a good boy for them, letting them use him however they pleased. They praised his tongue for how perfectly it lapped up their juices. They praised his lips and how they expertly worked their clits. His thighs were so muscular and fit to be ridden. His hands were rough and wonderfully calloused in a way that felt exquisite against their skin, brushing against their nipples and squeezing their breasts. They saved his cock for last, the Madame stood on the balls of her feet, guiding herself up and down his shaft, while another girl stifled his moans with her cunt. They rode him like a tandem bike until he couldn't last any longer. 

Killer was enjoying himself down the hall. He had wanted to try this with you and Kid sometime, but hadn't gotten around to it, though he was pretty sure you would both be into it. He was balls deep in one of the girls, while the other was balls deep in him, with a strap-on of course. He could have cum several times by now, though he stopped himself from getting too close.  He had the first girl's knees next to her ears, bending her in half. She hadn't stopped wailing since he started. These kinds of days were a dream, the ones where the girls thought they should be the ones paying for a service for how good they were getting fucked.  

Killer's hips stuttered as he got close again. The feeling of getting fucked himself was almost too much. He was feeling pleasure from both sides as the girl behind him, rammed into his sweet spot. He had to stop. He didn't want to finish yet. Killer was used to being the giver, today, he wanted to be selfish. He wanted to be the one cumming over and over again. He let go of his self-control, pumping straight through his orgasm, allowing himself to cum. He let out a guttural moan as he was fucked from behind until he saw stars, spilling his seed until it leaked from around where his cock was buried.

They allowed him no rest as he was pushed onto his back. The girl with the strap puled out during the rearrangement, and slowly pushed the silicone cock back into Killer, causing another small spurt of cum to leak from his tip. Her hand smeared it down his cock as she started pumping it back to life. He wanted to cum over and over again and that's exactly what he was going to get.

Kid, ever the problem child, grew more and more frustrated. He had several girls to accompany him, at the moment two were taking turns sucking his cock. It had been half-hard the entire time. He hadn't even drank that much, so what gives? He demanded more girls, with little improvement. He was being pampered with any number of techniques. Some nipple play here, some asshole teasing there, and still his cock refused to stand tall. It wasn't the girls. They were all quite stunning, each in her own unique way. He knew why it was like this, and couldn't admit it to himself. 

Only when he let his eyes close, and pretend that it was you who was touching him, did his erection grow. He had to pretend it was your tight cunt wrapped around his cock when one of the girls was riding him. He had to pretend it was you who was stroking him or touching him. He had to pretend it was you when he fucked them. And he had to pretend it was you to cum. But it wasn't satisfying. He had to have the real thing. 

Kid begrudgingly got up. He tugged his pants on but left everything else on the floor. He walked in the direction that your collar alerted him to, pausing briefly to listen in to the other rooms. Everyone else could enjoy themselves freely. Why couldn't he? It wasn't fair. This was something completely new to him. Never had he been like this. He nearly bowled over the Madame, who had slipped into the hallway. 

"Something wrong? Were my girls not satisfactory?"

"Nah. They were fine."

She studied his face. "But they weren't what you wanted, or rather, who you wanted, were they?" She had seen it enough times to know.

Kid frowned. 

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Kid frowned even more.

"Have you told her how you feel?"

"And say what?!" This was so stupid. Talking about this in a whorehouse with the head whore. "That I haven't been able to get her dumb face out of my head since I first saw her? That she's so fucking annoying she makes my stomach hurt? That she makes me insane when she does stupid shit that might kill her? Those aren't feelings!" Kid released a breath. It felt good to say something out loud. He hoped no one had heard it though.

"You're right. Those aren't feelings." She held up one finger. "It's one feeling."

"That's not-! I don't-!" Kid stepped past her. "Where's Y/N?" Kid turned and growled. "UNRELATED!" 

"Very end of the hallway." The Madame smiled a knowing smile. How lucky you were to have someone so passionate. She walked to the back room, where the girls hung out or recovered and freshened up. She walked through to another back room filled with tools and props. Someone had left out the ingredients for their infamous Snake Venom shot, a powerful aphrodisiac, except there was a lot less of the active ingredient left in the bottle than there should have been. Whoever mixed it must have not been paying attention and doubled the amount. It was perfectly safe to ingest, but it was no wonder you hadn't come out of the back room yet. It was going to take a while for the effects to wear off. 

Kid huffed and stomped down the hallway, stopping at the end. He pressed his ear against the door. There was a lot of whimpering and whining behind it, maybe even... crying? It was enough for Kid to step in. Whatever scene lay in front of him, he could never have conjured in his head. You were lying across dark sheets with a silk robe falling off your body, which was bare underneath. He could see that your skin was coated in sweat and your entire body was trembling. There was a blindfold over your eyes and the girls surrounding you were teasing you with feathers or ice cubes against your sensitive skin. There were soft, loose restraints holding your wrists and ankles to keep you from flailing too much. Your thighs rubbed against each other as much as the restraints allowed and your back arched off the bed with frustration. The girls didn't give into your pleads to be touched, hence the tear streaked cheeks that Kid could see from the doorway.

"Please. I want- I want-"

"What is it?" One of the girls giggled.

"G-gimme my boys." You panted. "They'll h-help m-me."

"What a coincidence. One of your boys just walked in."

Kid felt himself be pushed towards you, the door slamming behind him. He was pushed until his knees touched the edge of the bed, amber eyes devouring your erotic form. A girl took his hand and spread it on your thigh. The rough skin of his palm elicited a moan that went straight to his groin. A moan like that just from one small touch? His eyes drifted to the sheets below you and how soaked they were. What was going on with you that you had clearly been cumming for a while and still acted as if you hadn't been touched at all?

You couldn't see anything but there was a faint smell of weld smoke and oil. "Kid?" Judging from the feel of his hand, it was definitely Kid. He had the roughest palm since he only had the one to work with. You heard the jingle and felt the tug of your collar. "Kid!" Your wrists were held back from trying to grab him. "Oh fuck please, Kid. Please." You couldn't articulate anything past that. In the time that you had been in this room, something happened to you. The part of your brain that controlled lust was uninhibited, running rampant. The thing about sex with strangers is that it didn't matter how they perceived you because you would never see them again. When you were with one of your crewmates, part of you was preoccupied with keeping up your prideful, tough girl front. But now, you couldn't give any less of a shit how Kid saw you. You felt like you would combust if you didn't cum soon. Whatever they had given you made it impossible to be satisfied. Even when they made you cum over and over again without ever touching any of your erogenous zones, it wasn't enough. You needed to get fucked and you needed it now. 

A chuckle rumbled in his throat. You were so cute begging without any pride holding you back. It was raw lust controlling you. "Don't ya worry, doll. Yer captain will take care of ya." 

You whined at his promising words, toes curling in anticipation. A breath was shakily sucked through your teeth as you felt his hand slide up your thigh to the silk tie that was still around your middle and untie it. His hand was splayed over your stomach and dragged up to your throat, pausing to squeeze before continuing to cup your cheek. You turned your head, chasing his thumb with your mouth. He let you suck on his thumb before switching it with his index and middle fingers. You swiped your tongue against them and your cheeks were hollow as you sucked your saliva off them. Kid pressed them further past your lips until you gagged. 

Kid took your saliva and used it to pump himself, not that he really needed to since he had been rock hard the second he stepped in the room. He got on top of you and seemed to change his mind about what he was going to do, turning around so that his cock loomed over your face. He positioned it against your lips and you opened wide. Kid's girth was hard to take. He moved slowly at first so you could get used to the feeling, at the same time bending down to lick a stripe down your cunt, tasting all the times you'd cum without him. There was a vibration around his cock as you moaned.

You didn't even care that Kid tasted like another woman's pussy, or that he was fucking your face, one of your least favorite things to do, especially with him because his cock was suffocatingly big. All you cared about was getting to your climax. More tears fell from your eyes and saliva leaked from the corners of your mouth as Kid moved faster. You were hardly aware of yourself gagging on him because a few strokes of his tongue were sending you to the moon. You felt the brush of teeth against your clit and that was your undoing. His cock muffled your cry of release. The restraints tugged against your skin as your body attempted to contort. Your muscles were beginning to get sore with the amount of times they had clenched during your orgasms. Without warning, salty, thick cum poured down your throat.

"Oh fuck!" Kid came much faster than he thought. He got off on how only a few of his touches turned you into a writhing mess. He took his cock from your mouth and watched you cough, choking on his seed. "What's wrong, doll? Couldn't take it?" He turned around to wipe the cum from the edges of your mouth and stuff those fingers back between your lips so you could clean them off.

"Need more." Your back arched off the bed again. You hadn't stopped moving, trying to gain more friction between your legs. "Captain, fuck my pussy please," you begged. "Touch me."

Kid was definitely going to ask for a to go sample of whatever they gave you. He trailed his fingers from your mouth to the apex of your slit, where he rubbed in slow, lazy circles. He could already feel you trembling against his touch. "What if I want yer ass?"

You shivered and groaned. "Take whatever you want. Just m-make me cum some more." It was confusing to want to stop cumming because it was beginning to exhaust you, yet still crave the release. You couldn't see because of the blindfold, but you could tell Kid was grinning by the inflection of his voice.

The girls who were in the room had mostly dissipated, though a few were still left in case anyone needed anything, or wanted them to jump back in. Kid asked one of them for lube. He spread a decent amount on his fingers.

You could hear some adjusting of position and feel the weight shift on the bed. There was a wet squelch of lube being squirted from the bottle. Then a cool sensation of the liquid touching your asshole. You bit your lip as Kid slipped his index finger in easily. He pushed in and out a few times before adding his middle finger. With that came a mild burning with the stretch. The third finger was when you started to squirm. It danced the line between pleasure and pain. There was another cold sensation as Kid pressed his metal thumb to your bud. A low vibration was added with the fourth finger to ease the painful stretch. 

By this time, Kid was fully hard again. He removed his hand from your ass and transferred the lubricant to his cock, adding more as well. He admired the small gape before pushing his cock in. Even with four fingers, there was still some stretching to be done. 

The feeling of being entered made your pussy clench around nothing. You were full and yet empty at the same time. You felt Kid release the restraints on your ankles and you greedily wrapped your legs around him, pushing against his ass to make him move.

He grabbed your hips and pulled you against his own until he bottomed out. Fuck, he loved seeing your hole stuffed, and he loved being stuffed in it. He loved seeing how open and pink and wet your greedy pussy was, just begging for another cock. For now, his finger would have to do. 

You groaned when you felt him press his metal finger against your entrance. He couldn't go past the joint for safety reasons, but the cold sensation and something to grip against was good enough. He moved his finger and his hips at the same time, building that release yet again in the pit of your belly. You were getting closer with every movement, even if it wasn't a full thrust. Kid removed his finger and focused on pounding into you, sensing that you want more. 

"F-fuck. K-keep go-nghhh." You threw your head back and came hard on his cock. 

Kid couldn't resist letting himself cum again. Your ass was so tight around him, and like a vice when you came. The way you were slowly coming undone turned him on. You didn't want to stop and neither did he until you were fucked silly and stupid. Even now, right after you had cum, you were already grinding on his softening cock, still in your ass. 

"Girlie, stop squirmin' or I'm gonna get Wire to tie ya up."

"Oh fuck yes. Please."

Kid was very much used to you resisting everything he said and was taken aback.

"Tell him to gimme that monster cock, too."  

Kid untied the rest of your restraints and flipped you over his lap, giving your ass a hard spank. "Mine ain't good enough?" 

Thoughts were difficult to form when every word and every touch went straight to the nerves connected to your cunt. "I n-need more."  

Kid spread your cheeks to watch his cum leak from your stretched hole. "Little slut wants all her holes filled." Kid saw your pussy clench. 

You nodded. Getting fucked by all of them at once would fix you, probably. 

Kid beckoned one of the girls to fetch Wire and another to get rope. He would get the others when the time came, but he figured Wire might have some fun with you first. The tall man walked through the door a few minutes later, looking bewildered, glancing between you and Kid. Then a dark grin appeared on his face. There was noticeable rope burn in symmetric lines across his body that Kid didn't comment on. 

"Look what we have here." He liked what he saw. You looked like a bitch in heat, melted across Kid's lap and literally begging to get fucked. 

"She won't keep her ass still." He nodded to the various ropes that were piled on the bed. "Ya know I'm not patient enough for that shit." 

Wire was all too eager to grab you from Kid's lap and throw you on the bed, facedown. He had wanted to bind and gag you since you came on board, mostly for practical reasons. He grabbed both of your hands and placed them behind your back, starting from there, he tied your forearms together horizontally. He wanted to create a harness around you so they could manhandle you however they liked by grabbing it. 

You felt your arms become more and more immobilized as Wire tied you up. The large man had his knee on your back, firmly keeping you in place. The pressure pressed your pelvis into the sheets and if you wiggled your hips you could achieve som friction. You moaned as Wire pressed you down harder. Wire slapped your ass, making you stop. When the sting wore off, you couldn't help but do it again, earning another smack. The cycle repeated enough that by the time Wire had finished, your ass was full of bright red handprints. 

Wire flipped you over again so you were face up. "You're being a brat." 

Still blindfolded, you could tell where Wire was based on the way the bed shifted. You stretched your foot out to find Wire's cock, rubbing the underside with the sole of your foot, lightly pressing it to his abdomen. "Give it to me," you whined. You pulled your ankles up to the back of your thighs and let your knees fall open. 

"Needy little brat. You're dripping for me. Tell me how badly you want it." Wire loomed over you, bringing his fingers to your entrance, touching you so lightly you wouldn't be able to feel it normally.

"Wire, please. I h-have to have it. I h-have to c-cum on it." Your hips bucked against his fingertips.

"Will you be a good fuck toy and take everything I give you?"

You nodded vigorously. "I'll do whatever you w-want." 

"Don't cum until I say you can. Understand?" 

You nodded again, legs shaking with need as he pressed his fingers into you. He worked you open to make sure you could handle him. You didn't know if you could actually keep yourself from finishing in this state, so you hoped he would go easy on you. He withdrew his fingers, satisfied. The continuous orgasms helped you stay wet and ready. Wire pressed the tip of his cock into you. You held your breath, trying not to cum just from that. He couldn't sheath his entire cock into you due to its length, but you took more of him than he thought you could. 

Kid stroked himself at a lazy pace watching the scene before him. He twitched seeing your cunt at its limit and he swore he could see a slight bulge in your stomach whenever Wire went all the way in. Your increasingly needy voice brought his erection back to life in no time at all. 

"Fuck. You're gripping me so tight. Don't you dare cum yet." He felt your walls twitch around him. 

The threats coming from Wire were only making it harder for you to contain your orgasm. You could feel your thighs shaking, trying to hold it off. "I'm c-can't hold it." Wire fucked into you at a fast pace, bumping into your cervix with every thrust. 

"You can. Your slutty pussy is just being greedy." He could tell you really were on the edge with how sloppy his thrusts sounded when his hips slammed into yours. He could barely pull out you were clenched so hard around him. 

"P-please." You were gritting your teeth and tears fell from behind the fabric covering your eyes trying to hold out. 

"Take all my cum first and then you can."

There were no more words coming out so you nodded. All your thinking power went to your focus on not finishing. It was like he was dangling you over the edge but not letting you go over. 

"Fuck!" Wire released his cum inside, more spurting out with every stroke, much of it spilling out around his shaft as it disappeared in your hole. 

When you felt the twitch of his cock and the sticky sensation on your thighs, you finally let go. Screaming as your walls tried to milk more cum out of Wire. Without a second to spare, Wire lifted your torso from the bed so you were in a sitting position and you felt his hot, sticky member on your cheek. 

"Clean it off."

You were still blindfolded, and you couldn't use your hands, so you used your mouth to feel what you were doing. You licked all the juices from him until it was only you saliva coating it. And even there, you didn't stop. Finding the tip, you sucked on it, getting the last salty drops from his slit, and taking as much of him as you could in your mouth to make him hard again. You felt his hand in your hair. 

"Good girl. Keep doing that." Wire pressed your face into him until you were gagging. He grabbed you by the ropes and laid you down before getting on top of you again, this time his legs were on either side of your chest.

You could feel his heavy member sitting between your breasts. His hands were big enough to take one breast in each, which was saying something since your chest wasn't small. The tip of his cock pressed against your lips and you opened your mouth letting him in. You heard him spit and felt him squish your tits around his shaft. He was big enough that he could tittyfuck you and you could suck him off at the same time. 

This was the scene that Heat walked into. He was told he was needed here, but it looked like you had been well taken care of. Kid held a finger up to his lips, indicating to Heat not to reveal himself. He walked around to get a better view. Your knees were pressed together, though the mess on your thighs and how wet the sheets were betrayed the amount of times you or someone else had cum. 

"Clean my cum out of her." Wire didn't have to say it twice. 

You assumed it was Kid who parted your legs. You quivered at the feeling of hot breath against your thighs and then against your exposed pussy. Your mouth was too stuffed to say anything. All you could do was moan as lips moved against your overstimulated clit, then licked down your center. A tongue slowly lapped at your folds, teasing your entrance as it got closer. This didn't feel like Kid. This felt like someone making out with your pussy, not bullying it. So it could either be Heat or Killer, though you hadn't heard anyone come in. The tongue moved in and out of you, dipping deep to reach all of Wire's mess. The next pass of the tongue lingered on your clit, where lips stayed to suck at it. Wire's weight prevented your back from coming off the bed, though your hips could still move to grind. 

You felt one hand come off your breast before you felt a slap across the face. 

"Don't pay attention to him. Suck my cock."

You moved your head as much as you could to please Wire. You flicked your tongue along the edge of his glans, swirled it around the tip, pressed it into his slit. 

You felt another slap on the opposite side. 

"Too slow." 

It hurt, yet you wanted more of it. And you again, were so close to another release, clit aching in someone's mouth. You tried to go faster and couldn't do much more than you were already doing. You felt both of Wire's hands leave your breasts and his weight shift. Then suddenly his hands were gripping your hair, tilting your head up slightly. 

"If you can't listen to instruction, I'm gonna teach you how." Wire used his grip as leverage and pulled you along his shaft while he fucked your throat. 

The juxtaposition of the rough treatment on one end and gentle on the other was confusing to your horny brain. It hurt your throat when Wire forced his way deeper, and you tried your best not to gag. You very much enjoyed the way he was roughly tugging your hair though and it made you groan around his shaft. It was hard to breathe with Wire's cock taking up all the space in your throat. Black tugged at the edges of your vision as you teetered on the edge of both passing out and climaxing. With a gasp, you could breathe again and you felt warm spurts hit your face and chest. The rush of oxygen sent fire through your lungs and pushed you over the edge. Your thighs squeezed around the source of pleasure between your legs, which must have been Heat, judging by the hair texture. Killer's was softer. You shrieked with the intensity of the orgasm, irritating your now sore throat.

Wire grabbed Heat from between your thighs by his hair and shoved him into your chest. "Clean that up too, dog."

You felt Heat lick and suck at different parts of your chest, lingering around your nipples to play with them a little. He moved up to your neck, burying his face in its crook to bite, earning a whine from you. 

Wire's eyes narrowed. "Heat, are you fucking around or are you doing as I told you?" 

A whimper came from Heat above you and he went back to licking up the dots of cum on your face. 

"Heat," you whined. "Kiss me." Your legs wrapped around him, pinning him place. "Fuck me." 

"You want to get fucked by this mongrel?" You were startled by how close Wire was to your ear. "Fine. You want to be fucked by an animal then you can get fucked like one." Wire shoved Heat off you and flipped you on your stomach, pulling your ass up in the air. 

You felt Heat behind you. Your cunt was slick enough he slid right in, causing you both to moan. Heat grabbed your arms and used them like a handle to pull you backwards onto him. His ground his cock up into you, reaching for the spot he knew would make you cum. 

Wire's voice was in your ear again. "Tell him what you want."

"P-please make me cum, H-Heat."

"No, tell him what you really want." Wire prompted. "You're a bitch in heat aren't you? Tell me you want to get bred." 

"I-" It was hard to think of anything when Heat was purposefully trying to make you cum quickly. 

"Tell him or I'll make him stop." 

"B-breed me, Heat. Fuck!" Saying it out loud made your cunt clench. "Fucking breed me!"

Kid had walked back in with Killer at the right time because hearing that tear from your lips made them both hard.

It was too much. Heat finally got you to your climax without a moment to spare. Those words had an instant effect of him. You were faintly aware of his dick twitching inside you as you pressed your face int the sheets and cried out. You couldn't even hold yourself up anymore, sinking down with your legs splayed as soon as Heat pulled out. There was a hand on your back.

"Look at you, breadcrumb. I guess you're more of a glazed donut now. You did so well taking everyone." Killer cooed, leaning down to be closer to you. "Do you think you could go one more round? For me?"

You nodded. The effects of the shot were wearing off and exhaustion was setting in. 

"That's our girl." He kissed the top of your head and pulled you to sit upright, holding on so you didn't fall over. He admired how pink and puffy your pussy was after hours of orgasms. It was still so wet and glistening, partially with your own fluids and partially Heat's cum. 

You felt the weight shift on the mattress again, in front of you and behind you. You were pulled into a lap, an erection rubbing your lower stomach. Then you were lifted and placed on it, as hips thrusting into you slowly, before you were settled into a lap. You had to lean forward and rest against him. You leaned up slightly to kiss his neck, but were met with helmet after a few seconds kissing upward. You made a noise of disappointment. 

Kid's voice came from behind you. "Sorry, doll. There's company." 

You felt him kiss up your back and bite the back of your neck, sending a shiver up your spine. Killer's hand grabbed your asscheeks and spread them apart, using them to stroke himself a few times before stopping to steady you. Again, you felt the cool sensation of lube being applied to your asshole. You expected one of them to lay back, but they both stayed on their knees, sandwiching you between them. You bit down on Killer's shoulder and groaned as Kid pushed his way into you with his dick. Killer held your hips and helped you ride both of them at once. You were doubled over, leaned against Killer's shoulder and drooling on it in a matter of minutes. You were so weak and so close to climaxing again. 

"Y-you both f-feel so g-good. So b-big." 

"That's it, bunny. Cum for us."

"Let it out."

You clenched around both of them, moaning wantonly with your orgasm, feeling your slick coat Killer and run down your thighs. Panting, you fell backward onto Kid's shoulder. He trailed a metal finger up your center and made a weak spark against your nipple, making you gasp. He caught it with his own mouth, placed over yours. He wanted to taste the sweet noises coming from your mouth. Your tongues mingled and his grunts were exchanged for your moans. With kiss-swollen lips, you pulled away.

"Killer, p-please. I want t-to kiss you." 

He made a noise. 

You don't know when she got here, but you heard Jade's voice, "Girls, l-leave us." 

Why did it sound like...? 

Suddenly, you could see. Wire grabbed the blindfold from you and tied it around Jade's eyes instead. Jade who was in very much the same position as you, though with Heat and Wire. "O-oh." You supposed you didn't hear her over yourself even though they were right next to you. Your eyes were glued to where Wire's dick was fully buried in her ass. Impressive. 

"Do you like watching, too?" Killer teased. "She liked watching you so much she had to come try it." 

You looked back at him to see that he had removed his helmet, and promptly attacked his lips with your own. Slowly, you felt your arms becoming more free. Killer's hands had left your hips to untie you. When you were freed, you stretched your arms, leaning back again and lacing them around Kid's thick neck. The change in angle had Killer hard-pressed against your clit from the inside. Kid pushed his mouth against yours again, panting. With your own noises stifled by him, you could hear Jade's pleasure tumbling from her lips. Her noises went straight to your pussy. The urge struck to break from Kid and pull Jade to your mouth instead. She tasted sweet, and even sweeter were the high-pitched cries coming from her mouth.

"C-cumming," she wailed and leaned on Heat, twitching. 

"Oh fuck. I'm- g-onna..." Your eyes squeezed shut as you felt your walls flutter around Killer and your ass clench around Kid. Your cry almost sounded pained. You were starting to cramp and your throat was sore from all the panting, screaming, and Wire. You were aching and you wanted to be done, but your body was still ready for another.

Killer could tell you were about used up. "It's ok. You're doing great." He held you against his chest with a hand on your back.

"O-one more." You panted. "Gotta c-cum one more t-time." You pushed yourself up. "L-let me do it."

"Are ya sure, bunny? Ya look fucked out." 

As an answer, you moved yourself up and down, grinding your hips against both of them. They let you do the work, but they helped support you, Killer with his hands on your hips, and Kid with his hands slightly higher. If this wasn't an orgy in a brothel with other people present, it might have been romantic. You swapped between kissing Killer and Kid. Your eyes were half-lidded, and you were basically on autopilot with a singular goal in mind. 

"K-Kid can you do t-that thing?"

He had no idea what you were referring to and you didn't appear to be in a state where you could coherently answer. So he guessed. In the background, it sounded like the others were wrapping up too.

As you rode them, Kid pressed his metal finger against your clit, vibrating the metal. A stream of curses left your mouth as you approached your orgasm. You felt the molten hot core within your belly burn brighter with every drag of their cocks inside you. "W-want you t-to c-um first." Your legs were starting to feel like jelly. "Wan to f-f-feel it." Kid pressed his finger more firmly to your core and laughed darkly, making your legs shake. He had no intentions of finishing first. Killer pushed you onto his cock and thrusted into your sweet spot, having you burying your face into his chest to moan. Kid pulled you back so Killer could see your face. There was the slightest, tinging spark, like what Kid had done to your nipple earlier, causing the little bundle of nerves to be set off. You were pressed into Kid's chest with your back arching, eyes rolled back, mouth open without noise coming out because you couldn't release your breath. You heard a moan from Killer as your cunt milked him dry, seed spilling from between your thighs. A flood of warmth spread over your body as endorphins rushed through your blood. Kid's dick was buried in your ass and the way you tightened around him made it hard to move.

Kid made a few more pumps into your ass before falling over the edge himself, muttering into your ear, almost a whisper, "Ah fuck! I love ya." 

Next

Tag list: @bbnbhm @nocturnalrorobin

[artthatgivesmefeelings]

Jaroslav Cermak (Czech, 1831-1878) Montenegrin Women in a Harem, 1877 National Gallery Prague Slavery gave rise to the figure of the Odalisque, that is the beautiful, white slave girl, a figure of quintessential beauty. In the late 18th century Johann Friedrich Blumenbach, the father of physical anthropology, the father of scientific anthropology, an 18th century German scholar, assigned the name Caucasian to the people living in western Europe, to the River Ob in Russia to northern Africa, and to India. He called the people in Europe, over to India, well into Russia and North Africa, Caucasians because they were the most beautiful in the world. Blumenbach enjoyed a scholarly reputation that gave his designation enormous heft and it got picked up very quickly. Immanuel Kant stated that the Caucasians, the Georgians, the Circassians, sell their children, particularly their girls to the Turks, the Arabs, and the Persians, for reasons of eugenics, that is, to beautify the race. Before the Atlantic slave trade to the western hemisphere shaped our ideas about what slave trades are all about, there was slave trade from this part of the world, that goes back to before the reaches of time. Herodotus writing in the fifth century BC, writing about the enumeration of taxes and tributes paid to the Persian kingdom, collected from the lands it had controlled and the lands even far away in the distance. He said that the voluntary contribution was taken from the Colchians, that is the Georgians, and the neighboring tribes between them and the Caucasus, and it consisted of and still consists of (that is in the 5th century BC) every fourth year 100 boys and 100 girls. This was before Herodotus could even see the beginnings of it. Herodotus also mentioned the tribute from the southern most part of the edges of the Persian world and that was for the people called Ethiopians, what they owed was gold and ivory, people were not mentioned. So, the Black Sea Slave trade was the slave trade in the western world until the 15th century when the Ottomans captured Constantinople and cut the Black Sea off from western Europe. At that point, 15th century, the Atlantic slave trade becomes the western slave trade. Daniel Edward Clarke, our Cambridge don, also located Circassian beauty, in the enslaved. “The Cicassians frequently sell their children to strangers, particularly to Persians and Turkish Seraglios.” He speaks of one particular Circassian female who was 14, who was conscious of her great beauty, who feared her parents would sell her according to the custom of the country. The beautiful young slave girl became a figure, and she had a name; Odalisque. She combines the powerful notions of beauty, sex, and slavery. Ingres, Jerome, Powers and Matisse specialized in Odalisque paintings. The figure of the Odalisque faded from memory as the Black Sea slave trade ended in the late 19th century, and the Atlantic slave trade overshadowed that from the Black Sea. Today, the word slavery invariably leads to people of African descent. Americans seldom associate the word Odalisque with with slavery in the Americas. Today many American painters use Odalisque figures, Michalene Thomas for instance who has done a series of what she calls American Odalisque. But the phrase and the figure of the Odalisque has lost its association with slavery. And now in American art history and in contemporary American art, Odalisque simply refers to a beautiful woman, usually unclothed. If you want to learn more, listen to professor Nell Painter of Princeton University in the YT lecture “Why White People are Called Caucasian.”

[superscrub323]

What if Ares was at Amazon Island when Heracles was doing his labors

Ares and Hippolyta are busy drinking and eating laughing at a story Ares is telling. "Waitwaitwait! It gets better! The sex slaves from Thrace bound together with the neglected women of Lemnos, waited until the men feel asleep and then slit all of their throats!" Ares roared to the applause of Hippolyta who laughed uproariously with Ares before he caught his breath enough to continue. "Oh ho ho...and that's how Lemnos became completely devoid of men." Another Amazon named Antiope came in and bowed in reverence to their patron deity and their queen. "Lord Ares, Lady Hippolyta we have guests." Hippolyta raised an eyebrow. "Ah if they're ladies trying to join us tell them trials aren't until next week but they're welcome to stay until then." Antiope then clarified. "No, it's a man, and a big one at that. He said he wants to talk to Hippolyta." Ares then raised an eyebrow. "Well if he's here for slaves, I imagine that you'll be prepared to use his head as a warning to all future invaders." Hippolyta then hit her fathers shoulder. "Come now father, surely we can at least see what he wants." she then turned to Antiope "We're on our way." A short walk to the beach where a man who looked like he could beat Kratos (OG) and Bia to death was waiting covered in a lion pelt that looked like it belonged to something spawned from Typhon and Echidna was waiting patiently and Ares recognized him and sense the blood of a God in him. "Heracles?" Ares inquired as Heracles bowed his knee to a God of Olympus. "Lord Ares, Lady Hippolyta, I'm honored to make you're acquaintance." Heracles stated. "The pleasure is...all ours...so you're Athena's newest pet hero?" Ares asked. "A...yes Lord Ares, I'm here for Lady Hippolyta's Garter." Heracles pleaded. Ares then raised an eyebrow. "My daughter's birthday gift?" Heracles then kept his head down. "Please...I...need it to atone for killing my family." Hippolyta put an arm on Ares's shoulder. "It's fine father, you can always make another." Ares sighed as she let Hippolyta hand her the garter before noticing a divine presence. Heracles then bowed gracefully. "Thank you very much Lady Hippolyta I am honored to..." "THERE HE IS! THE MAN WHO'S PLANNING ON KILLING OUR QUEEN AND OUR LORD!" Ares then sighed as he realized things were going to be difficult before he slammed the butt on his spear on the ground leaving a massive shockwave that commanded everyone to stop. "ENOUGH! While I'm not always a fan of my father's bastard children, no offense." "None taken..." There was some taken but he wasn't about to push it. "Our friend here is merely a guest who wishes to borrow our Queen's Garter, who told you all this." The Amazons pointed to a singular women who was leading them who grunted in frustration. "I'LL GET YOU YOU LITTLE BASTARD!" Hera screamed in frustration as she left back to Mt. Olympus making Ares sigh... "I wanna love my mom but not when she does shit like this..." Ares stated. "Actually...idly curious do you have anymore labors?" "There's the Mares of Diomedes of Thrace*, The Cattle of Gerydon, The Golden Apples of the Hesperides, and Capturing Cerberus." Heracles replied honestly. Ares sighed. "If Hera's going to continue to make you're life hell I'm afraid I can't welcome you back here until you resolve whatever you and Hera have going on because it puts my children at risk but the least I can do is help you with the mares since Diomedes is a son of mine, you're on your own after that because those Birds in Stymphalian were sacred to me." Heracles bowed his head. "Thank you Lord Ares and I'm deeply sorry for your birds." "Forgiven, just tell me who ordered you to do it when you're done with your labors" Ares replied as he let out a whistle that pierced the heavens as Phobos and Deimos pulled up with his flying carriage ready to leave. *Fun fact in the original myth the mares were actually before the belt of Hippolyta

[tinareturnstolesbians]

I did some research into the group that produces the so called bondagettes. That is the particular group of 6-7 women with very curvy bodies and right sized breast. The site also has a very heavy lesbian mean girl focus which drives me crazy. Some of the pics boarder on just plain cruel to what means. The women are almost always wearing pantyhose due to their gorgeous legs. Long sexy legs. So one of the very curious bits of information I came across in trying to find the origin of the website was this. The website was supposed to have been taken down in certain European countries due to accusations of some of their women being real sex slaves. Or the worst accusation was, that some of the young women were held against their will. I am like OH FUCk! I really want to know more. Then I realised how sick my own thoughts are. Oh well, I can’t help wanting to go back and search the pictures and wonder if that woman was one of those being held against her will while a not to bad looking lesbian bitch just keeps adding tape and rope and nipple clamps of vary forms. The facia expression in the pictures have always looked real. That is one reason I have always been drawn to these women. Also they have a kink for fucking up the sub female head in wrapping their pretty head in either pantyhose or both the hose and duct tape. The site represents what my own personal desires are to do with a woman I invited to my house for a night or weekend. I spend a great amount of time checking out my possible girlfriend for the weekend. First, she must be a professional woman in that she has a career in a field that you don’t give up for anything. Asking the right questions will tell me what her thoughts are on getting even with someone who has hurt you. Not necessarily by physical means either. The ultimate thrill of having a date over that doesn’t know what she may be really getting into is knowing she is not ready for the amount of sexual activity I can put her through. Some one asked me if I talk to them while I am in the process of tying her up. Hell yes I talk to them. Partly because I am recording my event and I want to relive the moment over and over again once it has passed. The talk is as important to get my date to understand she is going to experience my version of what I want her to experience in the lesbian dominance of another woman. I want her to know I really like you a lot, so the things that are going to hurt your prissy ass are not personal. It is just part of being the submissive bitch to another woman’s lesbian desires. So you are here for the weekend and you will not know when the pain and tight ropes will end. Your head will be encased and sometimes it will be tight and freak your ass out like it is your fucking end. Your fingers and hands will desperately fight to find a piece of rope to work and hope to loose the knot binding your ass in place. You will scream into my panties stuffing your mouth. I will only tell you to try and endure the time and wait for the orgasm I promised you at the end. So good luck bitch, you have 48 hours of either sexual hell or if you can find the right place for your mind, sexual pleasure!