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“Too tight?”
The words cut through Shadowheart’s thoughts like the leather strap cuts a strip of pressure around her face. A metal ring forces her mouth open, silvery steel stuck between her teeth, and spiderlike legs wedged inside of her cheeks maintain the harsh spread. Shadowheart has waited to begin for longer than she wanted to, sitting upright on her knees on the floor of their home away from the troubles of the past. Asheera musses with working the strap around her head without restricting Shadowheart’s braid too much. She is always so fussy with the details.
Details like the room they're in, a sequestered, windowless enclosure with sleek wooden flooring. Walls decorated in objects meant to draw pain and pleasure alike from someone, and a few unfinished projects on the far side of the room loom over them as well. A roughly sanded saltire cross leans against a naked expanse of wood there, joined at its side by a metal, sharp-angled pommel horse. Each of these details Shadowheart focuses on, because if she doesn't then she'll have to worry about minutia instead of the biting metal in her mouth or the leather collaring her.
That's what Asheera's for.
But that’s what makes this work, and Shadowheart knows it. Her utmost care in executing a meticulous plan takes all the worry from her shoulders. She can be. Nothing else is required of her, asked of her, or demanded of her. Blissful freedom is all she has to worry about.
“Hey, love,” Asheera says, tapping Shadowheart’s thigh with her knuckles. “Did you hear what I said? Is it too tight for you?”
Try as she might to answer Asheera, all that comes out is a sloppy attempt at, No, it feels good.
“Oh, right,” laughs Asheera behind her. She steps in front of Shadowheart and settles herself onto her knees. Shadowheart’s eyes instinctively skim across the muscular body before her, the press of thighs and curl of biceps. “OK, just nod or shake your head. I see no issues, no chafing, but is it all right?”
Shadowheart nods. Saliva already wells in the back of her mouth. In addition to the gag tightening on her head, the leather strapped around her neck — a deep-blue and silver collar she cherishes more than anything else — digs in with its attached leash dangling down her side. It's a short, wide-handled strip that catches her eye whenever it drifts into view.
“Good, very good.” Asheera pats her cheek, and Shadowheart laughs. Well, tries to laugh. It comes out as a babbling exhale, and a tug on her leash chokes the noise out of her. "Good pet. We can start then."
As Asheera stands back up, letting the leash drop, Shadowheart watches her length hardening already from nothing more than setup. Preparation isn’t Shadowheart’s favorite part of this lifestyle, but of course a paladin dedicated to a god of machines and building would find it so enthralling. It’s enough to make her chuckle again.
Chuckle until a hand winds its way into her hair, a powerful grip there, as Asheera’s other palm presses into the flat of her back, pushing her hard onto the floor underneath. The wooden floor is smooth, thankfully, as her hands and knees slam into the uncarpeted flooring without warning. Boots slip between her thighs and push her legs apart, first the left then the right. The lack of fingers on her legs or palms scoring red marks into her thighs annoys her at first, but then Asheera tugs on her braid and presses down hard on her lower back.
“Remember the signal if it’s too much,” Asheera whispers almost a notch too quietly. “Tap twice on my knee, all right?”
Shadowheart nods again, pulling her own hair back with the gesture. It’s enough to make her groan, and she feels spit drip down her chin before she can do anything about it. She’s slick already, wet enough to feel as if another pool will form below her to match the one dribbling from her mouth. Clawing at the floor, she tries to center herself on the sensation of being pulled apart on every limb, on her mouth, and between her legs.
The broad, heavy crown of Asheera's cock plays at her entrance, dipping inside briefly only to return to toying with her lips. The teasing continues for untold minutes, though it could’ve easily been no more than one. Focus on anything but keeping her mouth from straining and coating the room in her saliva becomes almost impossible. A moan slips from her mouth when Asheera dips the head of her dick downward, putting a brief pressure on her clit as she tugs on her hair again, a sound that comes out as more of a lust-fueled idiotic noise around the ring of the gag.
As she chokes herself, Shadowheart's head drops as her hair is abandoned. Given a moment to slack her neck, she dips her forehead low enough to touch the floor.
“You’re making a spectacle of yourself,” Asheera whispers behind her, finally sinking an inch inside of her but no more. No more. Not enough. “Already a mess. Gond rebuild me, you're needy when you're like this.”
The curse comes out in a breathy voice, one Shadowheart matches with a slobbering noise from the back of her throat as Asheera begins in earnest. Her thrusts find the rhythm that curls Shadowheart’s toes, remaining steady and powerful with the help of her toned body as Asheera treats this like weapons practice — a series of feints and strokes with one goal. Instead of vanquishing enemies, it’s breaking Shadowheart’s thoughts.
Steady.
Patient.
The gag, straining her face to gaping, doesn’t let Shadowheart speak. It doesn’t let her do much other than remain open. Even the pain across her face from the tightened leather on her cheeks restrains her. Restrained and ready, yielding for Asheera. Liquid seeps down her chin, clinging to her in ropes as the patient motions work her into a stupor.
Though she was hard before, Asheera stiffens to her peak inside of Shadowheart, filling her and spreading her wide around the length gliding between the lips of her soaked cunt. A handful of the pearls that leak from Asheera’s tip so often caught on her body. She’s memorized the feel of them now, coating her bush and clit as hard length blends her thoughts into a chaotic wreck.
Steady. Strokes.
Words die behind the gag, melting into a river that falls from her mouth. Asheera has never felt so massive before, as if she’s buried in the back of Shadowheart’s throat from the angle behind her.
Without the weight of the world, of goddesses on her shoulders, she can enjoy pleasure and nothing more. No control is needed. In this moment, there are only two people in all the planes. It’s enough to relax any tension in her shoulders that isn’t caused by the hands on her body or Asheera thrusting into her.
An unimaginably strong force yanks her head backwards by the rear side of her collar, Asheera's hand wound in her leash as she drags Shadowheart's neck into a choking embrace. With spit oozing down her chin, she tries to focus on breathing but the cut of Asheera's collar around her throat crushes away the ability to do so. The leash keeps her head locked back, her body in stasis so that all she can do, even if she wanted anything else, is take her lover's thrusts. Endless, churning, cunt-soaking thrusts.
She has to focus.
On steady strokes.
She tries to say, “Harder.” It comes out as a gagged, voiceless moan.
“Faster?” Asheera asks.
Shadowheart nods in response, groaning when Asheera immediately gathers a new pace. One that forces her further to the ground, eager to widen her legs and spread herself for as much of Asheera’s pumping cock as possible. She tries to bite down to relieve the pressure, but the metal ring blocks her as she drools all over the floor in disastrous need. Working her lips around the constricting leather, Shadowheart tries to make more room to speak, or even think, but it doesn’t work. Nothing works. Not when the leash pulls her back with the force of a titan.
Steady.
Faster.
"You're so messy like this, love," Asheera pants. "Look so... good. So gods-damned good like this."
The heft of balls heavy against her clit beat her in a rapid rhythm now, and Shadowheart tries to look over her shoulder. She can see a little, held almost frozen in place by her leash. Behind her, Asheera is on her knees with that strip of leather in hand like a queen mounting her favorite pet. Sweat sweeps down her face, tusks hanging low from a half-open mouth, and her eyes are focused entirely on where their bodies meet flesh to flesh in obscene slaps.
Asheera catches her gaze, holding her there as another deep thrust rolls Shadowheart’s eyes behind their lids. Her nails dig into the wood, muscles already tightening hard around the pummeling length as its slight curve touched deep in her body, caressing the core of her pleasure while she desperately tried to reach between her legs to circle her clit.
“Oh no,” Asheera grunts. “Can’t have that.”
When her hand leaves the floor, Asheera snatches it from the air. Holding her arm on her back, Shadowheart must lean on one elbow with the next flurry of strokes. Strokes steady and fast enough to strike her stupid. Stupid enough that she forgets, for a moment, where she is. What’s even happening. Why is she wearing a gag?
Even her name slips from her mind when Asheera yanks back on her leash with one hand in a strangling grasp. It's hard enough to pull the Nameless Woman up from the ground, giving Asheera the chance to gather the arm on the ground and lock both of her wrists in one grip. Both arms behind her back as Asheera fucks her roughly, turning the Nameless Woman into a sheath for her cock and nothing more. She tries to grasp her name. All she can grasp is the empty void of submission, a place she finds so easily and readily. Still, she tries for the name.
It's impossible. The gag is pounding pressure in her face, and her knees burn from rough scrapes. Her lips are beaten red already, and her thighs are caked with bruising from previous nights together. She can only feel herself spread wide, stretched to take every inch, and drift into bliss as her mouth makes noises against her wishes.
Pathetic things that beg for more. More. Need.
Need her.
Need her inside.
Need her to never stop.
Never stop.
Need. Want. Must have.
Already incoherent thoughts become gasps in the air.
"Moaning for your leash?" Asheera redoubles her grip, constricting the collar tighter. "Good girl, moaning like that. Again."
Around her gag, the Nameless Woman pants. Moans. She'd do whatever the hand around her leash, splitting collar around her throat, tells her. Whatever the one who clamped her mouth and made her spread wide demands, she will do.
Good girl.
Yes.
More.
Need.
With her chest stuck forward with nipples hard in the air and curving back strained, on her knees with Asheera behind her and arms locked above her lower back, nothing is possible save for feeling. Feeling cracking in all the veins up her body, starting from her scraping knees to the pulsing, thudding heat between her thighs as Asheera bucked up into her. To her burning chest, to her struggling throat full of spit, to her overflowing mouth.
She tries to say her name out loud to remind herself, instead drooling down her chin and between her breasts.
“Needy, sloppy,” Asheera growls before leaning into her bent form. Tusks cut sharp marks in the back of the Nameless Woman’s neck. “You are perfect for this. Gods.”
“Perfect for what?” she tries to ask, salivating the syllables into stupid nothingness, breathless as another flutter of hips spreads her cunt. Spreads her so pleasantly it’s almost unbearable.
Into her ear, Asheera whispers in a deep, low voice, "When you're like this, spread open... mindless, on my leash? So good. So good for me. Good for me, love. You're—" Asheera's body tightens muscles and her grip on the leash says how close she is. "You're perfect like this."
She tries to respond. It comes out as slobber in her throat around the metallic ring.
Her unintelligible question becomes another moan. The moan washes away her reason, and she tries to moan her lover's name. A tug on her leash snaps the little remaining reason into a mindless, devout worshiper dedicated to the Temple of Being Used. Rapid fucking turns her stupid, a welcome change from all that's behind her. It's elegant, empty bliss. Nothing more, nothing less. No one can be less than her, yet nobody treats her as more important than Asheera. The dichotomy within her self, all over being fucked into the floor by seemingly endless half-orc cock without worry, is strangely beautiful.
"Asheera," spills from her mouth in another stream of saliva through the steel ring.
Furious strokes overwhelm her thoughts until they’re suddenly gone, length wrenched wetly from her. Until she’s turned around with a forceful tug on the leash, hands instinctively held behind her back, and Asheera guides her head to the cock glistening with slick. Eager to taste herself on the crown where those delicious pearls clung, the Nameless Woman falls to lavishing the head with her tongue but can’t manage it. The gag holds her in place, restricting her tightly. All she can be, all she can do, is be used.
Like a tool, like a body reshaped from a person into a gagged mouth and collared throat. Asheea presses her down on the back of her head, slipping her entire length into the Nameless Woman’s mouth until she chokes. All that built up spit flows down the length, mixing with the precome against her throat and her own arousal hot on the shaft. Licking with the back of her tongue as best she can, Asheera drags her head up and down and guides her into a rapid bobbing pattern that she knows she can’t maintain for long.
The noises that crawl out of her mouth behind the strapped gag are absurd. The Nameless Woman almost remembers the world around her until she’s forced down into another deep gagging thrust, choking once more until saliva drools between the excruciating space between her mouth.
“Perfect in every gods-blessed way,” Asheera moans, working her head up and down the silky but iron-hard length of her cock. “Fuck, here.”
As she works the Nameless Woman into a breathtaking rhythm of sucking, slobbering, and licking, Asheera presses her other hand into the crease between the Nameless— no, Shadowheart’s legs. All of the sensation returns to her at once with two fingers playing at her clit as she bobs. The sleek metal of the ring tightens around Asheera with each thrust, lubricated by the absurd amount of spit spooling out of Shadowheart’s mouth.
At last, fingers work her into a groaning, shaking, thigh-twitching-and-pressing release that nearly cuts her in two. Turns her into a slavering mess. Eager to suck as her own climax splits her nerves and turns that delightful pressure all over into a wonderful spark that burns over and over and over across all of her body.
“You just came,” Asheera breathes, “from sucking me. You know that?”
“Yes, mistress,” Shadowheart says, managing something that sounded like those words in the moment she catches her breath before diving in again. Against the cock hard between her lips, she mumbles wordlessly, Yes, mistress.
That's always enough to unravel Asheera. The pulse in her mouth comes hard and fast, and almost immediately.
White streams fall past her lips as Asheera pulls her off to rip the gag from her mouth. Free of the tension, she’s immediately brought to a hard kiss as Asheera paints both of their stomachs in her release when their tongues meet. Brutal tugging on her braid drags teeth and tusks across her lip, a blissful pain when paired with the pumping vein coating their bodies. With the tension gone from her mouth, turned into a new sensation of sharp bites and lashing tongues, Shadowheart groans when Asheera lets out a chest-deep sound like a rumbling rockslide. Finally emptied on their bodies, she can focus on their lips and tongues and the fierce kisses.
The tempo slows until their lips scarcely glance one another. Exhaustion turns the ferocity of the evening into a calm, quiet embrace. Their kisses linger a while without a word, listening to each other's heaving chests quiet until the night is full of nothing more than halfhearted whimpers, pleased sighs, and accidentally tickling touches.
Any further pulls on her leash are playful things that make Shadowheart smile and laugh. Nothing that cuts into her, the red lines on her neck already a moment from bleeding, and instead simple pleasures like the touches they share.
Pulling herself away for a moment of breath, staring into Asheera’s glazed over eyes, Shadowheart says, “You know, I think I did quite all right.”
“I wasn’t so bad myself,” Asheera grumbles.
“No need to flex your ego. You already flexed enough as it is. Gods, even the word flex is making me sore.”
The grin of self-satisfaction on Asheera’s face is unbearable. “See? Told you.”
“I think I deserve special commendations for enduring that monstrosity.” Shadowheart slaps her on the shoulder, a small smile creaking up her tired face.
“You’re calling her a monstrosity now?” Asheera hovers her hand over her groin, a put-upon frown drawn on her face. “I could’ve sworn you were moaning my name just a moment ago.”
“You are unbelievable.”
“Unbelievable, now that I can accept. But you?” Asheera brushes a finger on Shadowheart’s cheek, a faint red glow washing over where the gag cut into her skin. She leans in for a kiss, stopping to say, “Top marks.”
“Top.” Shadowheart chuckles against Asheera’s lip with a mumbled, “Heh.”