[The intricacies of the illusion obey. If he were not himself, if he were anyone else less skilled in the art of genjutsu, with learned mastery over his clan's ancestral power — perhaps his concentration might have slipped beneath the demands of the scenario. His attention is wrapped in the physical present of his throat being used, then plugged back up with the toy while Cy's cum is still being worked down on a few residual swallows. He makes a low keening noise, muffled by silicone.
As instructed, servants begin to draw a steaming bath in the next room, lighting candles and laying out soft towels. And as instructed, the illusive second Cy appears, obedient to the demand as it settles underneath Sasuke's restrained body. Cy's voice is heavy in his ears, an intoxicative influence for how he outlines everything that is going to happen and what he expects him to do.
Five. Another noise comes gagged on the toy in his mouth, a little desperate, pleading unheard. He thrashes with sudden energy to no effect in his binds; the clone sucks at his clit, untiring, wrapping one of its arms around Sasuke's hips to close even the slightest centimeter of space and refuse any withdrawal, any reprieve. So, because Cy has asked it of him — strung up like a doll and fucked by the machine's devices — that first orgasm crashes easily through him. He shakes, feeling where his heavy breasts hang down and continue to drip milk all over the simulacrum of Cy lying beneath them.
With that tongue ceaselessly lapping at the sore, tender spot of his clit, and the dildo working into his pussy, and the other filling his ass — a second orgasm isn't far behind. Yet the third stretches the efforts of the illusion, not physically possible in such succession otherwise, and by then Sasuke has started sobbing loudly, volume stifled only by his full throat. Muscles fight against the tide of pleasure that soon bleeds into an acutely overstimulated pain, but the reflexive clench of orgasm overrides that defiant tension. He comes again, and again. Cy asked for five, but he loses count somewhere — and it seems like it never stops, air half-asphyxiated by the lack of rhythm and composure — until finally it does. There's a wet pool left on the mat where Sasuke has leaked milk from his tits and slickness from his cunt.
The clone vanishes, and a servant emerges from the other side of the room to notify Cy that the bath is ready.]
no subject
As instructed, servants begin to draw a steaming bath in the next room, lighting candles and laying out soft towels. And as instructed, the illusive second Cy appears, obedient to the demand as it settles underneath Sasuke's restrained body. Cy's voice is heavy in his ears, an intoxicative influence for how he outlines everything that is going to happen and what he expects him to do.
Five. Another noise comes gagged on the toy in his mouth, a little desperate, pleading unheard. He thrashes with sudden energy to no effect in his binds; the clone sucks at his clit, untiring, wrapping one of its arms around Sasuke's hips to close even the slightest centimeter of space and refuse any withdrawal, any reprieve. So, because Cy has asked it of him — strung up like a doll and fucked by the machine's devices — that first orgasm crashes easily through him. He shakes, feeling where his heavy breasts hang down and continue to drip milk all over the simulacrum of Cy lying beneath them.
With that tongue ceaselessly lapping at the sore, tender spot of his clit, and the dildo working into his pussy, and the other filling his ass — a second orgasm isn't far behind. Yet the third stretches the efforts of the illusion, not physically possible in such succession otherwise, and by then Sasuke has started sobbing loudly, volume stifled only by his full throat. Muscles fight against the tide of pleasure that soon bleeds into an acutely overstimulated pain, but the reflexive clench of orgasm overrides that defiant tension. He comes again, and again. Cy asked for five, but he loses count somewhere — and it seems like it never stops, air half-asphyxiated by the lack of rhythm and composure — until finally it does. There's a wet pool left on the mat where Sasuke has leaked milk from his tits and slickness from his cunt.
The clone vanishes, and a servant emerges from the other side of the room to notify Cy that the bath is ready.]