hallowing | ic inbox;

（ cy praises him through the orgasm, petting him, pressing a kiss down against his flank, along the line of his spine. awareness of his own arousal comes into a gleam of brief focus, the urge to replace one of the toys with his own cock and bury himself there deep within the shelter of his body, and he has to — breathe out slow. sasuke would help him if he asked for it — a slight tweak to the genjutsu that lets him regain control. but he finds he likes the challenge of centring himself, of stepping back from the very real, very present need for unfettered relief. existing in the moment only in service of sasuke's pleasure.

another, softer kiss is laid down against his shoulder, and then cy shifts around to his head. the dildo down his throat is extricated gently, and tossed aside with a wet sound. the gag is next, though it's only pulled from his mouth and left to dangle by its binding beneath his chin. cy cups his cheek, and steps in closer so he can hold sasuke against his midriff, lovingly carding through hair that's fallen loose from its cruel tether. ）

Since you're missing your left hand, there's no way for me to watch you count on this side. You'll have to do it aloud for me, t'che serikko. I wouldn't want to beat you more than you deserve, hm?

[He can feel Cy behind him, but he can't turn around and look, so he follows the man's movements by the path of that hand on his body, by the rustle of clothing and careful footsteps. Then Cy is right there in front of him, looming above — he tries to tilt his head to look at him, wet eyes slightly bloodshot, lips stretched over the hidden gleam of white teeth.

When the dildo slides out of his throat, he chokes on its absence and coughs hard, accidentally sucking down some of the drool gathered in his mouth on an abrupt inhale. He can feel where his body has begun to ache from its rigid positioning — his jaw is no different, relief when he closes his mouth only emphasizing the strain from the gag and toy.]

I— [His voice is rough, swallowing again to manage the words.] I don't have a choice, do I? You're going to hurt me either way, no matter what you think I deserve.

[There's a burn of challenge in his dark, mismatched eyes, but it's impossible to completely master the desire in himself — a little slip of his role, shining in his hungry expression.]

You know I'm going to obey.

I do.

（ he cups the boy's cheeks, wiping away those shining tears. ）

You're an exquisite example of perfect obedience. It doesn't matter what I've forced you to endure. Torture, rape, the loss of everything you've ever pinned your identity on — the surrendering of your body to my every whim. You've taken all of it so perfectly, so sweetly.

（ what defiance exists is — perfunctory. he struggles being put into chains as much as into silks. he crosses his legs even when he knows the fucking will go worse for his having done so. he resists just enough to remind cy — or perhaps himself — of who he once was, and then he always, always surrenders. ）

How many nights did you put your hand between your thighs and think of me, while our child grew inside you?

[There's a sharp inhale, tension shivering through him in answer to those thoughts laid bare, those dark wants — that he has come to find meaning and sanctity in this life of subservience, made into a vessel for this man to use however he chooses. It's a fragile look on his face, cracked with fine fissures of vulnerability.]

Never. I never have.

[Our child. It makes him aware of the heaviness of his belly, more intolerable in this bent-over position even with the sling beneath offering some meager amount of support. That he has been inextricably tied to this man, their blood mingled to create new life — Sasuke wants to clench his thighs together at the thought, but the cuffs around his ankles prevents this motion.

He is not very good at lying.]

Please, just finish.

（ he pushes his thumb into sasuke's mouth just because he can, using the smear of saliva to dampen his lips. ）

You're lying to me. Answer the question, please.

[His mouth yields easily to the intrusion, though his gaze drops — concealing the look on his face. There is no choice with that command. What it reveals, whether Cy believes him or not, is only how well far he has fallen from a height of pride.]

I've lost count.

[The confession comes a whisper under his breath.]

（ there's a faint hm that gives away nothing of his opinion on the matter, and then he pats sasuke's cheek as he steps around him to that more vulnerable left side. he doesn't bother with pulling the chair around, just kneels at his side, calling the cane with the void to hand. ）

Good boy. （ is it a slip in the scene, a reward for good behaviour, or perhaps some awful mockery of what sasuke's lost — difficult to say, and nothing else gives it away. he snaps the cane against the piercing to get sasuke's attention, then: ）

Count for me. We're almost done.

（ — with this torment, at least. ）

[And he remains obedient, counting each crack of the rod against sore, swollen flesh aloud — this time with his voice betraying every compulsion of pain, five breaking on a gasp and ten cried out, desperate, unable to keep his jaw gritted shut. He's on the verge of dry sobs by the time they near the mark of fifteen, left breast as tenderly abused as its twin. Every strike that lays down a new welt causes his breast to sway, splattering pale milk on the floor beneath his feet, jewelry glittering in the low light of the room.

He stops holding himself back by twenty, because by then the height of pain has reached a point that it would be impossible. The illusion is still under his control — but for a moment he lets himself pretend this is real, this is all he is and will ever be. A sobbing, panting, pregnant whore.

When it stops, Sasuke hangs in his restraints utterly boneless. He has no energy left to fight or struggle even as an act.]

There you are.

（ it's said warmly, as if praise for how spent and stilled he goes in his bonds. and as before, this breast too gets a moment's tender attention — cy moulding his palm to give succour to abused flesh before he slips away again. this time he stays in sasuke's full sight as he approaches a sideboard. a glass is selected, a pretty crystal cup that he tosses up once in the air and catches as he saunters back. he doesn't speak to him, or acknowledge him in this sad state — he just crouches down, holds the cup to one breast and squeezes it until there's a telltale dribble into the glass. he talks about the campaign as he does it. resources spent, people sacrificed, a battle ultimately won. his voice is soft and melodic, grounding in a way that speaks more to cy as sasuke knows him, and not the towering monstrousness of a warlord he would never choose to be.

once he's satisfied, and the glass half-full — to say nothing of the mess on the floor — he circles back to stand in front of sasuke. he reaches to set the glass between the boy's shoulder blades, knowing he can't move enough to dislodge or dump it — and with both hands free he fits the gag back into place in his mouth, undoes the button on his pants and takes his cock out. it's clear immediately he hasn't been... unaffected by what he's done, the head of his dick messy with feverish smears of precome, and so hard in its entirety it's almost painful to bear.

one hand tangles in sasuke's bound up hair, and he steps in to an intimate nearness that seats him right to the back of the boy's throat in one smooth, easy push. clearly, he expects no participation whether willing or unwilling from sasuke — he just uses him as if he had no more autonomy than a sex toy, pulling back and then slowly sinking back in.

but it isn't until he's close — sooner than he'd like, but in a way that feels like poetry set to their scene — that he takes up that cup again. and it's with his cock seated deep in the forced hold of sasuke's open mouth that he pours some of the contents along the top of his shaft, knowing he's providing no option but to swallow it. the liquid is still afire with the heat of sasuke's body, and it provides a dizzying little stir to his perceptions, the juxtaposition between mouth and milk making his knees briefly weak. ）

I bet you're parched. Poor thing. Swallow for me.

[There's an excruciating line to balance between the relief and the torment as his breast is fondled, kneaded, milk trickling into that crystal glass. The sound is layered by Cy's storytelling voice, and he knows his tendency to slip into its weave — but physical sensation keeps him rooted, flesh abused and mottled with welts and bruises squeezed by Cy's strong hands, draining him in such an unimaginably vulgar way. And yet no one else has this dominion over his body, and his breasts have swelled in order to provide for their child, so it is Cy's right to take it too.

He can't anticipate what happens next, though the precarious glass set between the span of slender shoulder blades tells him that something is coming — an acute wait temporarily distracted when the gag is fitted back between teeth. He whimpers, too weak for real protest, jaw parting slackly.

Satisfaction is immediate when he sees that Cy is hard because of him, but there's no time to dwell on this fact, no time to admire the heavy shape of the man's flushed cock, so familiar and well-loved he craves it in his mouth before Cy slides past the ring. Sasuke's throat forms a tight seal as he's learned, though he's unable to close his lips, at the mercy of whatever pace the man may dictate.

It goes on long enough that his mind begins to gray in that in-between space, but stilled movement coaxes him back to focus in time for that first, hot rush of milk over his tongue. He chokes at first, throat too full — but then reflex takes over and he swallows desperately around Cy's cock to get it down, a rippling clench of muscles that will be felt along the entire length. There are tears in his eyes again, because it feels like the glass never empties, that he keeps swallowing and swallowing to the denial of air, tasting himself and feeling it fill his belly.]

（ it's done until the glass is empty, the occasional lazy thrust into sasuke's mouth as he pours making it all the more obscene. slick, wet noises as sasuke tries to swallow and occasionally chokes and the sound of the machine pounding into him are the sweetest symphony he could imagine, played out here just for them.

the empty glass disappears in one flick of his hand, and then he pulls back, gripping sasuke's chin to force him to look upwards, to meet his gaze: ）

I'm going to block your air off. Work your throat to get me to come — I'm close — before you lose consciousness. Do you understand?

[He can't give any verbal confirmation of that question. His head is hazy, eyes wet with tears, mouth messy where milk has leaked from the tight corners of lips in his efforts to swallow. There's a flicker of eyelashes, blinking rapidly to clear his glassy, out of focus vision.

Then, obediently, a slow nod is managed where Cy holds his chin.]

Edited 2024-09-08 02:45 (UTC)

（ there's a stroke of sasuke's cheek as cy steps forward again, one hand steadying his cock as he slides it into the boy's mouth, bottoming out against the rigid metal ring forcing him to accommodate the stretch. he can feel it, when the seal of his dick cuts off the oxygen, like a build of negative pressure against the glans, and it pulls a soft groan of pure pleasure out of him. cy is rarely prone to vocal expressions of enjoyment — and this one is almost entirely against his will as his thighs tremble from the heat of his own arousal.

one hand settles against the back of sasuke's head, tangled in his bound-up hair. the other splays, palm-down, against his naked back. ）

My pretty, perfect whore. （ his hand pets sasuke along his spine, almost soothingly. ） Work for me, and then we're almost done.

Edited (forgot there was more to have them do!!) 2024-09-08 04:03 (UTC)

[There is no real danger of asphyxiation within the context of the genjutsu he controls. And yet its threat manifests so he can feel it, every detail indistinguishable from reality — the squeeze of Cy's cock at the back of his throat, the blunt head sealing off that necessary path of airflow, leaving him unable to manage even ragged, desperate breaths through his nose with how wholly he's suffocated. It is a lack of control at the boundary of survival that he once would never have tolerated, but now it takes him to an utter state of surrender, so hazy and acute that it feels perfect in Cy's hands. If this wasn't an illusion, he would still trust Cy not to hurt him. Every time, he would put his safety and well-being in this man's hands and trust the outcome.

It feels so good. It feels so good — to be used like this, entirely without autonomy, Cy's murmur above his head like a salve over any itch of self-preservation that might arise. Practiced now at this act, Sasuke does as he's told and swallows hard where he can feel Cy's dick wedged against the back of his throat, working his mouth and tongue over that intrusion with devoted effort, hot and yielding in every flex of muscle. He wants to feel the rush of Cy's seed buried so deep in his throat that it is almost tasteless. He wants to drown in it, if necessary.]

（ he slips into the moment. inhabits it fully. no past, no future, just — this, the warmth of sasuke's mouth, the flex of his throat muscles, the sweet obedience that pulls him closer to the precipice of release. he shivers faintly, as if a ghost touches the points of his shoulders, and his grip in sasuke's hair becomes insistent. a warning.

when he comes, it's with a sound that's a little too rough, too low to be a whimper, but it's close. he's bent into a lean over sasuke, one hand braced against his back as he works through the blister of overstimulation, forcing his breathing to steady until colour has bled back into the world from the frenetic starbursts of orgasm.

he pets sasuke's spine as he withdraws, wiping a string of cum that's drooled from one forced-open corner of his mouth. the dildo, discarded earlier, is retrieved, cleaned, and slid back into place down his throat, lashed to the spider gag. ）

I'm going to have my servants draw a bath in the next room. （ which is, mostly, instruction to sasuke to generate such a place, and people to busy themselves about it. ） I want you to come for me again, but I know that's probably going to be hard on your body, so I'm going to make a shadow clone of myself to help you.

（ instructional, again. he doesn't know the hand signs for it, but in genjutsu it doesn't truly matter — sasuke can just create one, and there's no way he isn't paying attention to the order now. as he talks, cy goes back to the box of sex toys nearby, returning with a set of weighted clamps. they're affixed to sasuke's nipples, a cruel, heavy drag downwards that sways in time with the machine's thrusting. the clone manifests, and cy directs it between sasuke's thighs. obediently, it levers itself down to the ground beneath sasuke — ostensibly posed for 69 — and it lifts its hands to grasp either sides of his hips, mouth soon attentively pressed over the boy's abused, reddened clit.

if this were a real scene that they were doing, independent of sasuke's illusive imaginings, he'd set a more realistic goal. but it isn't, and realism is something they can leave well enough behind them, so — ）

Five orgasms. You don't need to wait for permission, I want them to spill out of you as your body builds to them. Then I'll take you to the bath, and clean you, and carry you to our bed. There, I'll remind you that you're only mine, forever.

（ as the clone works, he takes a seat — once again just absently propping his feet up on sasuke's lower back again, calling a book to hand. some dense, mathematical tome that he thumbs through idly, effectively ignoring sasuke and his pleasure henceforth. ）

[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.]

（ he's impressed, more than anything. that he's kept the illusion together as well as he has, that he's carried it this long, this far. cy pays him little mind beyond the cursory as he reads, though the book is — half-formed, fractional bits of text and equations that shift, dreamlike, as his eyes skim the page.

when the clone dissipates, and the servant mentions the readiness of the bath, he stands up and starts undoing the trappings that hold him fast. he removes the machines first, turning them off and then extricating the dildos from his body, letting them fall wetly to the floor. cy does clean him, perfunctorily — wiping up the mess of lube and bodily fluids between his thighs, wiping full breasts when the weights are removed from his reddened nipples. undoing the cuffs, collar and bound-up hair are last, and then the sling about his belly as he assists him to stand, and then sweeps sasuke up effortlessly into his arms. he carries him to the second room, and sets sasuke down at the edge of the natural-looking pool that's filled with hot water, its surface rippling with a breeze from the nearby window. cy disrobes as well, and then steps down into the pool, reaching to tug sasuke with him.

he doesn't speak, or try to encourage it. instead, he holds sasuke fast in his lap, sluicing water over his abused tits. one hand slips between his legs and massages at his cunt in the warmth of the water, pushing inside in casual ownership. part of this arrangement has been that sasuke is not permitted to refuse him anything — and if that means the use of his body however he deems fit, he must obey. ）

You performed so well for me. （ that's said as he nuzzles in against his slave's dark, dampened hair. ） I'll never tire of your obedience.

[He is pliant and boneless when the restraints are worked loose, no fight left, not even the cursory suggestion of resistance — Cy lifts his feet easily off the ground, hair spilling over one of Cy's arms in a tangle of dark strands. There are places where his skin burns, chafed by cuffs or the cooling welts from a rod, bruises blooming in a constellation of abuse across his breasts and other places where Cy has grabbed him, or where he has pulled too hard against his bindings. A story of what has played out between them here, privately, together.

Coaxed into the pool, he lets himself be drawn into that embrace, water rippling around their bodies. His head rolls back against Cy's shoulder, breath caught in his teeth as those fingers pry him open to find the inside of his pussy still wet and slick with arousal. Overly sensitive after a string of orgasms, he squirms in Cy's lap. Fatigue keeps the protest as weak as a kitten.

They're in the scene, he knows, but he can't help the words —]

Then I'll stay obedient forever. So you'll never get tired of me.

[Perhaps he can play it off as a fissure in the role, the baring of that truth after Cy had forced the honesty out of him earlier.]

（ that proclamation warms him more than the rising steam from the water ever could. he bends, leaning down to drag teeth over the place where the struggling bit bruises against the pale column of his throat. as his fingers push into the warm, wet channel between his legs — ）

I could never tire of you. You were my most exquisite foe on the battlefield, and now you're my most exquisite slave. I yearned for your body every moment I was away.

（ his free hand curves around the gentle jut of sasuke's belly, where their child has taken root. even in the context of a fantasy world, an illusion — in that moment it feels so concrete that the reality threatens to swallow him. while he would never actively desire this particular set and stage for them, would never truly embrace the desire to hurt sasuke against his will no matter how much kulo vayn hungers for the ill-treatment of a warborne son — no. the truth of all his earthly wants is as he'd told sasuke months ago: someone to wake up next to. to have until the world burns to nothingness. to carry carved in his heart, until time — thief of all he loves, all he's ever had, all he's ever wanted — carves the name away like water erodes a mountain.

so he would never actively wish for this to be their shared life, in all aspects save one: the evidence of their union, their love, in the swell of sasuke's breasts and belly.

cy slips his hand upwards to squeeze one tender breast. ）

If I were to entertain the idea of making you my queen, what do you expect you'd need to do to earn it?

[His mind feels fragmented, drawn by the tenderness of Cy's knuckles inside of him, by the teeth at his throat — physical sensations competing for his attention against that question. He likes the way Cy's other hand strokes at his belly, the swell accommodating the life cradled within it. The context of the scene allows him to experience how it could be, one day, if he did have Cy's children. In that moment it seems almost real, no matter how well or how effortlessly they play pretend.

There's another soft sound, his own hand chasing Cy's to lay over the palm that cups his breast.]

By being perfect for you. Devoting myself to you. Enduring you, and giving you everything you need, because I need it too. I won't lose who I am — and I'll still fight you when you want me to.

[The title of queen is meaningless with that symmetry of lust and love. And this scene is only a thin film over the mutual desire he knows they both share in a family.]

I'll have as many children for you as this body can bear. I'll never be empty.

（ he lets their fingers thread together, and cy pulls his hand free from between his legs for a brief moment, only to push back in with three fingers in a slow, aching inward drag, intended to keep him prised open. ）

Then, when you give me an heir — I'll make it reality.

（ he kisses at his throat. then: ）

Tell me about it. Those long, empty nights that saw you pleasure yourself thinking of me. I want to hear you speak of it.

[The sudden push of three fingers leaves him full, breath falling from his lips on a stilted gasp. Even tired and worn to the threads of his limit, Cy’s touch is not refused. Even sore, achingly sensitive, his cunt clenches down onto that greater width of knuckles, unable to help the instinct. His head rests on Cy’s shoulder, eyelids flickering, color high on his face — composure ruined beneath this man’s hands.]

The world was cold without you. The days were gray and colorless. I had no warmth beside me, and I became aware of that the longer it lasted. I wondered if you had found another woman, someone more beautiful, that you preferred… I feared you wouldn’t return.

[And it is this use of another that is deliberate, an acknowledgement to the fantasy of the scene — secure in knowing it will not change Cy’s treatment of him once they leave it.]

And I felt empty. Here. [His hand slips down, touching Cy’s elbow and following a path to where the hand is submerged in water, using his palm to cover Cy’s knuckles where they penetrate him.] I wanted your cock inside me so badly it hurt. I wanted to feel your body holding me down. I wanted to feel the bruises of your strength, your ownership over me.

[Even though it makes him feel like glass, like he might break from any more pressure than this — he bucks hips forward, grinding the sore, tender nerves of his clit against the hard ridge of Cy’s palm underwater, feeling the piercing catch and rub.]

So I would do this… and imagine it was you instead, holding me still, filling me up. Coming inside of me.

（ at that tortured lift of his hips, cy has to — exhale carefully, and he briefly stills his hand, letting himself just — occupy space inside sasuke's body, cradling him close. ）

There's no one else. No one could compare to you.

（ it's a vulnerable admission for a warlord to make, but — true, nevertheless. as much in this fantasy as in all other places. cy closes his mouth against the side of sasuke's neck, sucking a bruise to the surface, and then starts dampening his hair with one free hand. ）

I'll take you on my next campaign.

[With his head angled back on Cy's shoulder, it's easy to turn his cheek, to look at him through wet lashes — the flush of arousal on his face is evident, even after all of this, eyes glassy and mouth bruised so red from abuse it almost appears like lipstick.]

Then use me every night. Fight your enemies on the battlefield and find me in your bed after.

[He's squirming, restless, clearly willing to wrench another orgasm out of himself no matter how much it taxes his body, or in this case his mind — the film of the illusion feels thin, a shimmering across the backs of eyelids.]

I'll go with you anywhere.

Shh. Rest, regain your strength. I'm not done with your pretty cunt yet.

（ one more stroke along those inner walls, and then he withdraws and starts to tend sasuke's hair, catching the long strands as they pool like a glossy oil slick on the surface of the water. while the warlord would never offer it, cy can feel where the seams of the illusion are starting to wear thin, and he taps lightly against sasuke's left temple to indicate his true meaning: that sasuke should pull from his own deep reserves of power to replenish himself. presumably, its process can be different here — not the process he's come to expect in a world unfettered by illusion. genjutsu, after all, is a weapon. it makes sense that while he is so entirely at sasuke's mercy, he could pull from him unbidden.

but he's not concerned about it — there's neither fear nor concern in any part of him as he simply busies himself with washing his slave's long hair, wiping all those abrasions clean. his touch is still — cruel, insistent. he offers no agency at all, it's clear that if he wishes to spread sasuke's thighs or press a firm hand to one breast and bend to taste the milk that leaks from him in a steady flow that sasuke has no say in his doing so, and no right to refuse him. but there's something that could perhaps become tenderness in time, underlaid beneath the domination.

once he's finished, and has scrubbed sasuke down to his satisfaction, lingering on the bruises a little too intently, he carries him from the warmth of the pool to his bed, setting him on its edge. he dries him how one might rub down an animal, again with very little personal concern. a command follows, as he tousles his own hair with the same towel — ）

Ride me. I don't care which hole I fill. I want to see you at the height of all your glory, my pregnant little whore.

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cw: deranged cnc talk ig

pillow talk for them

truly tbqh

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