"𝕎𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕒 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕪 𝕒 𝕘𝕒𝕞𝕖?"
Jigsaw (Saw) & the Reluctant Participant Kink: Interrogation Play Warnings: cnc, degradation (just a lil),Jungwon is lowkey scary, sex machine, orgasm denial, edging Prompt: Trapped and powerless, you find yourself at the mercy of the infamous Jigsaw, your body craving the twisted pleasure he offers. As control slips from your grasp, desire and submission blur, leading you down a dark, seductive path where surrender becomes the ultimate thrill. How far will you go when there's no turning back?
The second installment to my Kinktober List 2024.
Darkness surrounded you, you were drowning in the dark around you. Your eyes couldn't make out any surrounding walls the slightly dimmed, single light above your head not helping you see. It wasn't quiet though, a whirring in the background maybe some kind of machinery being a constant noise. A smell of old dust maybe cement or stone you couldn’t tell.
When you start becoming more aware you feel the press of cold metal around your wrists and ankles, moving them but being pinned too close to really move at all. They wrapped tight around your limbs and the chair you were tightly strapped to. Your heartbeat increases more the more conscious you become. Your head pounds when you try turning it and a metallic noise sounds out in the room.
Then you hear a voice, talking slow and calculated, and a shiver runs through you. You can't really tell where it's coming from, still disoriented.
There’s bold lettering on the walls spelling out the sentence;” Wanna play a game?” Though your muffled brain doesn’t catch the clue. The writing done with red dripping paint.
"You’ve been living in the shadows of your desires for too long, haven’t you?"
You know who it is immediately. The telltale sign of the room, his voice, his choice of words. It all points its fingers to one person. Jigsaw. You've heard of people disappearing but it all seemed so unbelievable, so distant until right now.
You can’t tell where the voice is coming from. A small old speaker situated in the corner gives the output of his voice a slight crackle. Each word was slow, methodical like he really wanted you to listen carefully.
“For too long, you've indulged in a life of selfishness and excess, but today you will confront the truths you’ve buried deep inside. Today, you’ll face your punishment.”
Your punishment? For what? What did you do? Your mind races to find any explanation. The last thing that you remember before getting here….
Your breath catches in your throat in panic. A hiss cuts through the air. The uselessly dimming light illuminating a corner. That's when you see it, the machine that you've been hearing since the beginning. A big construction of steel, wires, tubes, and complex-looking engineering.
Right in front stands a cloaked figure, masked in the infamous puppet.
Jigsaw
He steps forward brushing his fingers along the machine's surface, the sound ominous, making you scared of what is to come. His voice, though distorted from his mask is clearer now booming through the room without the speaker.
"This machine I constructed will test you—your limits, your fears, your deepest urges. It is the key to your survival."
You struggle more against your restraints, he only continues watching in amusement.
“Your life, your choices... they’ve led you here.”
He pauses slightly “You believe control gives you power, that by dominating others, you are invincible. But true power comes from understanding weakness. Now, you will be stripped of your control, left to endure the very submission you’ve forced onto others.”
You froze when he mentioned this. Yes, you had been a bit of a control freak and maybe that had led to your partners leaving you but did that really warrant you getting punished by the one and only Jigsaw killer? You weren’t a corrupt authority figure or a drug abuser. You just liked being in control of everything, your life, your decisions, your partners, and everything in the bedroom.
You couldn’t let yourself be vulnerable with them but it could have been worse, you kept telling yourself.
What if I can’t take this? What if I break? The thought sends shivers down your spine but maybe… maybe I deserve this.
Your brain supplies uselessly, just adding unnecessary fear.
The chains tighten against your body suddenly, pulling you upright and facing the machine. It’s louder now as if it was preparing itself for the task ahead.
"You see, this is not a game of pain alone, but a game of pleasure and control—of denial and submission. If you wish to live, you must learn the cost of indulgence. Every choice you make will bring you closer to release... or your end.”
Your eyes widen in fear your body trembling just slightly
He moves closer his voice deeper and more intimate now. You can see a mop of brown hair peeking out from his hood and it drops slightly in front of the mask.
“But I warn you... the release you seek may not be the one you think.”
The lights turn on and off, and a cold metallic arm extends from the machine, hovering inches from your body. Terrified you look at it then back at your captor as if your pleading look would get him to release you.
“Your test begins now.”
The metal arms the machine carries click further, stirring in their place. For a moment you hold your breath in anticipation of what's going to come next. The cold air hushes against your skin and you become aware; that you’re still clothed but for how long?
He steps closer his voice as calm as ever though the weight of his words grows heavier each time.
“You’ve spent your life hiding behind the armor of your choices. Your clothes... your mask. But here, there is no mask. No barriers.”
He makes another pause that drags on uncomfortably long so.
“The truth is revealed when there’s nothing left to hide.”
He gestures slowly to the arms and before you can react they lurch forward, grasping at your clothes and removing them one by one. There’s no aggression no rush, the movements are slow, practiced sharp motions stripping you of your last clothing items.
They easily slice through the fabric and your skin forms goosebumps from the cold in the room. You stay impossible still though in case they would accidentally cut not just the fiber.
Jigsaw watches without any noise or reaction, he sees every twitch of discomfort, every taken breath, and every bodily response. His gaze isn’t lustful, it’s calculating almost clinical as if undressing you was just another test, just another day.
He was doing more than just removing your clothes, he was getting rid of your last defenses. You press your eyes closed in hopes of waking up from this nightmare and if not just helping you slip into a state of ignorance bliss.
He notices immediately.
“The more you fight, the longer this will take,” he murmurs. “You cannot hide from your desires. And soon, you won’t be able to hide from mine.”
The final fabric falling to the floor you open your eyes again, left completely naked, completely exposed, bound to the machine, revealed by the forever flickering overhead light. Your skin burns with the cold but even more from the burning gaze of being watched - Jigsaw’s masked gaze drinking up everything.
For a moment, all is still. The whir of the machine quiets, leaving only the sound of their ragged breathing.
“Now,” Jigsaw finally says, stepping closer, his voice low and deliberate, “we can begin.”
The masked man’s voice breaks the silence, his tone calm but heavy with purpose.
"You’ve spent your life controlling everything and everyone around you. But what happens when the one thing you can’t control… is yourself?"
He steps closer around you, circling like you’re prey and he’s the predator that will sink his teeth into you. The constant noise of the machine does nothing to calm you down, it just furthers the energy in the room.
"Here’s your first question: When was the last time you let someone else take control?"
You thought about it for a moment, your cheeks heating up despite the situation given, out of embarrassment at having to admit to these kinds of questions.
"I don’t remember. It’s been a long time." you reluctantly respond, unwilling to give up any more information. You were hoping he didn’t know you too closely to think of this as a “wrong” answer. Playing stupid in front of a genius killer.
“Please you don’t have to do any of this. I already learned my lesson, just…please let me go.” You tried reasoning because you really would try to change.
You gulped your fear down slightly. Not willing to show how much he affected your emotions. He can’t know, because exactly that, he will use against you.
Jigsaw’s mask tilts slightly, as if in curiosity, though his voice remains in the same tone as always, no hint of any emotion. He ignored your effort to try and convince him to let you go.
"You’re not as good at avoiding the truth as you think. You’ve let someone take control before... and you’ll do it again, whether you admit it or not. But denial has its consequences."
His hand moved in his dark coat, probably pressing a button.
Your heart rate spiked up. And the machine’s arm buzzes, the hum rising in pitch as it begins its cruel teasing, it started slow, the touch foreign. A little uncomfortable on your skin, surgical. The coldness of the metal pipes that brushed against your sides contrasted with the softness of the hands themselves. They caressed your chest, not going straight to torturing your most intimate parts. They just slightly massaged your nipples, making them hard rather quickly because of how soft the hands themselves felt. You stared down at them in focus and bit your lips to stifle any noises.
You could deal with this, if it stayed just like this, which you seriously doubted. But nonetheless, you pep-talked yourself.
Just when you thought you were getting used to the sensations on your body the arms moved down your body until they reached the place that was dripping now. One circled your clit, and buzzed a little in vibration. It made you try and curl into yourself, denying yourself to enjoy the pleasurable feel but your restraints kept you immobile, you could only squirm and clench your teeth to not make any noise however when the other one moved down to your slicked-up hole, and began pushing a solid digit in, a moan slipped out.
You were slowly breaking, each movement making it harder to concentrate, soon you’d have to choose between stifling your noises and answering your captor.
“Avoidance won’t save you. You can’t control what you refuse to face.”
A pause. Then, the next question cuts through the silence.
“Tell me... when was the last time you let yourself lose control—completely?”
The words hang in the air like a challenge, daring you to confront your deepest vulnerabilities.
And you think about his words from before, there was a slight warning in it, making you rethink how you should reply to this one. You pause a little more.
"I… I don’t know. I can’t remember." You nonetheless answer.
His laughter, low and almost mocking, fills the room. Oh, you fucked up, didn’t you? Regret flooding your system immediately, and wishing you could take your response back.
"You’re lying to yourself now. You remember.” He steps behind you now. The hair on your neck rises in anticipation and fright of not being able to see him. Losing that control so easily.
“You’ve lost control before, and you will again. But you’re still clinging to your delusion of power. Let’s see how much longer that lasts."
The machine’s touch becomes more relentless, it drags so deliciously over your folds, then back into your hole and out again. teasing you more relentlessly now. You were so close but it just wasn’t quite enough. Each time you almost let yourself step over that edge it would get pulled away from you. The constant denial drives the message home: the more you refuse to admit the truth, the less control you have.
There’s only one way out of this. To answer honestly. And that’s the thing you dread most.
The machine turns so loud now, but you can barely focus on anything besides the constant stimulation your pussy is receiving. You’re so so close. Your body is trembling in frustration from not getting any release your breathing is shallow and quick. Your ass was soaked in your own juices making the slide so wet. Your hips unconsciously tried pushing against the hands searching for just enough stimuli to reach your high.
Jigsaw’s voice, calm but with an undercurrent of menace, cuts through the tension. And he steps back into your line of sight his tall frame intimidating even if he isn’t physically big.
“You’re still avoiding the truth. How long do you think you can hold onto this delusion?”
The pressure increases, the sensation teetering on the edge of unbearable, and yet it keeps you hanging just short of satisfaction. The more you resist, the more helpless you feel. The room grows colder, the air heavy with the weight of Jigsaw's impending next question.
Jigsaw’s voice becomes darker, more insistent. He unbuttoned the first buttons of his cape, slowly taking it off. Revealing a dress shirt, a grey vest, a tie, and matching slacks underneath. Formal wear, something you definitely didn’t expect
You threw the cape into a corner of the room. His clothes pleasingly fit his form, lean muscles making them fit on him deliciously. You immediately shook your head from the thoughts invading your mind.
“Since you can’t seem to tell the truth about losing control, let’s make it simpler.”
You sigh slightly in relief, maybe he would make this easier on you. He pauses, letting the silence stretch painfully long, allowing your mounting frustration to fester.
“When was the last time you were forced to submit to someone else’s will?”
He leans closer, the weight of his presence suffocating, even though you can’t see his face clearly behind the mask. You could just slightly make out his dark eyes behind the mesh of the eye holes.
His hand came up to your face picking it up and tilting it, making you automatically have to let your eyes stay on him.
“Tell me, who made you feel powerless?” With his eyes piercing you it was like he lured the truth out of you.
You felt the machine's arms twitch, waiting for the answer, threatening more denial or perhaps something worse. The movement completely halting made your answer finally be something akin of the truth.
“I… I was forced before. It’s happened before, and I hated it.” Your thoughts flashed back to your ex, how no matter what you told him, he just did whatever he wanted. You had lost total control not just of your guys’ relationship but also yourself. And you never absolutely ever wanted to experience something like that again.
Now you were forced to confront that same thing.
The room falls silent, and for the first time, Jigsaw’s voice softens, though it still carries a chilling edge. He caresses your head in a gesture that was supposed to be reassuring but made it feel more mockingly with the mask staring down at you.
“Good. You’re starting to understand. Submission is not a weakness, but denial of it is. The truth you fear most is what will set you free... if you survive.”
The machine’s teasing is slower now, giving them just enough reprieve to catch their breath. The chains remain tight, but the suffocating pressure eases. Jigsaw’s voice lowers to a whisper. His hold on you releasing.
“But this is far from over. You’ve only scratched the surface of your truth. There’s still more to reveal.” He steps away from you, crossing his arms and tilting his head in observation.
The tension from your body slightly eases from the slowed-down movements, giving you time to take some much-needed shaky breaths. The cold air once again seems more present now, prickling your skin your heart still pounding from the onslaught of pleasure from before. The machine’s grip eases just a fraction.
After what feels like an eternity, he finally speaks, his voice quieter but still filled with unmatched control.
“Good. Admitting that you’ve submitted before means you’re starting to understand the game. Submission isn’t weakness—it’s inevitable when your will is tested beyond its limits.”
It almost sounded like he wanted to reassure you that it was okay, to admit these dark vulnerabilities to him. Well if you did, you might as well do it here. You doubt a serial killer will judge you much for what you’ll be saying.
A brief pause, his masked face tilting the other way slightly as though studying you.
“But don’t mistake this for mercy. Your truth is just the beginning. Now we see how deep your submission runs.”
The machine remains poised, its presence a constant threat, but for now, it lingers, awaiting the next phase of the game.
Jigsaw steps closer, the sound of his footsteps sharp against the cold floor. The black dress shoes that you take notice of now, snapping against the concrete. He’s still calm, still methodical, but now there’s a palpable shift in his demeanor. He’s pushing deeper into your mind, now that he knows you have started to break.
“Since you’ve confessed to losing control, it’s time we explore something else.”
His voice lowers, the intensity rising in his tone as he moves even closer. Each time he was about to ask a question your heart would pick up a few beats, the only thing filling you being pure and utter terror.
“You’re not just afraid of losing control… are you? You’re afraid of how much you crave it.”
Your breath hitched because you knew, you knew how right he was about that. The tension in the air thickens as he leans in, his breath cold against your skin. A shaky breath escaped you at the contact. Just a little more and his mask would brush against you if he would just take it off and do exactly that. You almost missed the constant rubbing and teasing the hands provided.
“So tell me... when was the last time you gave in to that craving and enjoyed being powerless?”
The question is like a knife, cutting into your deepest, most secret desires. Your body stiffens, the air suddenly feeling even colder, as you realize what Jigsaw is really asking—the fear and desire to submit intertwined.
“I… I don’t want to admit it, but I have enjoyed it before. I didn’t mean to, but I did.” Your eyes fell shut again at your admission like that could hide you.
Jigsaw falls silent, and the air feels thick with tension, each second feels longer and longer. The mechanical humming seems to soften slightly, but the weight of the your confession hangs in the room like a dark cloud.
“Now you’re starting to understand.” His face moves away but not very far.
The machine slows, giving the victim just enough relief to let their body relax, though the threat still lingers. Jigsaw steps back, watching as the victim trembles, their skin still sensitive from the teasing denial.
“Admitting you’ve enjoyed powerlessness is the first step. But now comes the real test. We’re going to see how much you can take before that craving becomes your breaking point.”
Jigsaw stands still for a moment, letting the weight of the victim’s confession settle in. Processing. The air feels heavier, your pulse racing as you realize what you’ve just admitted. The machine, which had briefly slowed its torment, hums again, but this time with a new energy.
"So, you’ve finally confessed. You’ve craved the very thing you’ve always denied—powerlessness."
He steps forward, his presence even more imposing. The cold metal of the machine hums louder, and the victim's body, trembling with anticipation, tightens as the teasing pulses resume. The sensation is different now faster, more concentrated more focused in a new vigor.
Jigsaw’s voice lowers, almost intimate, as he leans in close to the victim’s ear.
"Now, let’s test how deep that craving goes."
He flips a switch on the machine, and instantly, the teasing becomes an overwhelming onslaught of pleasure and pain, pushing you closer to the edge than they’ve ever been before. In a matter of seconds, you're back to panting like a dog in heat. The mechanical arms grip tighter, pulling your body taut as the pulses of sensation ripple through you. It’s like they knew each brush, each thrust, each button to get you closer and closer.
You buck involuntarily against the restraints, your breath quickening, muscles straining. Your moans ring out clearly through the room no restrain anymore in them.
"Do you want to submit completely?" Jigsaw’s voice echoes, a command hidden in the question.
Jigsaw stands still for a moment, letting the weight of the victim’s confession settle in. The air feels heavier, their pulse racing as they realize what they’ve just admitted. The machine, which had briefly slowed its torment, hums again, but this time with a new energy.
"So, you’ve finally confessed. You’ve craved the very thing you’ve always denied—powerlessness."
He steps forward, his presence even more imposing. The cold metal of the machine hums louder, and the victim's body, trembling with anticipation, tightens as the teasing pulses resume. The sensation is different now—more intense, more invasive—yet still withholding that elusive release.
Jigsaw’s voice lowers, almost intimate, as he leans in close to the victim’s ear.
"Now, let’s test how deep that craving goes."
He flips a switch on the machine, and instantly, the teasing becomes an overwhelming onslaught of pleasure and pain, pushing the victim closer to the edge than they’ve ever been before. The mechanical arms grip tighter, pulling their body taut as the pulses of sensation ripple through them.
Your body bucks involuntarily against the restraints, your breath quickening, muscles straining.
"Do you want to submit completely?" Jigsaw’s voice echoes, a command hidden in the question.
"Tell me," Jigsaw continues, his voice a dangerous whisper. "If you want release, beg for it. Admit you have no control left. If you refuse, you’ll stay here, until your mind and body break."
You can barely think, your body trembling involuntarily as the machine keeps you teetering on the edge, closer to release than ever but still denied. Every muscle strains against the chains, to try and get out, as you feel your resolve slipping.
"Submit completely," Jigsaw orders, the demand hanging heavy in the air. "Or resist, and you will never know release again."
It was clear what your answer was going to be. Too out of it to even try to resist his commands. Too fucking desperate to get that release, to feel yourself leak onto the machinery below. To make a mess of everything even more.
You're too overwhelmed by the relentless sensations, gasping for breath. Aching for release, the denial becoming unbearable, bordering painful.
You wanted to let go, absolutely you did. You wanted somebody to completely take over the reins that you so desperately held on to. To give yourself completely over, to not focus on any control at all because that someone, you would trust completely.
“Please…” you whisper, your voice trembling, soaked in desperation. “Please, I can’t take it anymore. I submit. I’m not in control. I… I need it.” Each word spills from your lips, raw and pleading, your gaze locked onto his, craving touch, his touch
A sinister smile creeps beneath his mask, a dark victory shining in his eyes. The machine’s movements slow, almost as if savoring your confession. The restraints tighten one last time, an agonizing reminder of your submission, before—release. The mechanical pulses surge, overwhelming your senses in a tidal wave of sensation.
But it’s his fingers you feel now—long, thick, and unmistakably human. Your eyes snap open, and there he is, Jigsaw, looming over you, a predator inching closer. As his fingers plunge deep inside you, you can’t help but feel the unmistakable hardness pressing against your thigh. The heat radiates from him, mingling with your own arousal, igniting a primal fire within.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with lust. “So eager to be used. You’re just a filthy little thing, begging for it.” Your body convulses at his words, caught in a dizzying mix of pleasure and pain. Each thrust of his fingers drags against your walls, expertly hitting that sensitive spot the machines had cruelly denied.
“Can you feel how much I want you?” he breathes, his breath quickening, sending shivers down your spine. “You’re mine now. I’m going to make you feel every bit of it. I’ll take that control and give you exactly what you crave” The way he speaks makes your head spin, and you realize he’s as lost in this moment as you are, his arousal palpable and intoxicating.
“Good. You’ve learned your lesson,” he growls, his voice a low, seductive rumble that vibrates through your core. “But remember… this is only the beginning of your real submission. I want you to scream for me, to beg for more.” The tension hangs thick in the air, the two of you bound together in this dark, twisted dance of desire.
As your mind spirals into blissful oblivion, everything fades to black—just as it all began. You’re left spent, breathless, fully aware that you’ve relinquished the control you once clung to so desperately. In this dark embrace, surrender becomes the sweetest ecstasy, a thrilling intertwining of your desires and his.
This story is so good pls do more of kinds of stories💙🤍
