☠︎ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐒𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐊𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐅!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.
☠︎ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒/𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐆𝐞𝐚𝐫, 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐆𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐅𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐡, 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐕𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐡, 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤(𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐭), 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐬, 𝐅𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐄𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲!𝐃𝐨𝐦/𝐒𝐮𝐛 𝐃𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐬, 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘!𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐅𝐨𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐡(𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐭), 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞-𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐭𝐨𝐲𝐬, 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐎𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐦 𝐛𝐮𝐭!𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞, 𝐑𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐑𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡.
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌 𝐍𝐄𝐓 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲, offers your sweat-tacky skin the most unsettling of kisses; feather-light strokes of mesh that allow goosepimples to prickle and rise like tiny dermal mountains. The cool air of the basement licks at your flesh, the true chill of the concrete below you biting at your bare feet and knees. They flex anxiously and you resist the urge to roll your ankles to stretch them, merely splaying your toes to incur blood flow. Stripped even of the plum varnish that Sebastian had personally applied for you so very recently.
No jewelry, either. “You know,” His voice is a purr, a rumble within his chest that is rife with sickened delight at your exposure, you hear the slight crunch of pebbles under his heavy boots, of fine sediment and you resist the urge to moan wantonly at the realization that he didn’t even sweep, didn’t even consider cleaning up the ground before stripping you and opting to indulge your fiendish request. Sebastian’s tone is saccharine sweet, candied cherries in between shark-like incisors as his tactical-gloved fingers toy with the closure of your padded blindfold, “I think you should see yourself.”
“𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 you,” You had begun teasingly, features rosy with the warmth of gentle arousal and your own merriment; blinking at him with those pretty eyelashes. “To keep the gear on.”
Sebastian blinks at the request, dark eyes flashing, not unlike a crow that has spotted something shiny. His hair has only darkened with age, blond nearly brown now, shorn down to his scalp.
A series of lay line-like scars adorn his dermis, twisting like pale rivers toward his ears, his nape, one outright connecting with his hairline and the one that cleaves right through his left brow. “𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐞,“ 𝐒𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡, 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜. “𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞.“ 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐫.
“I do not know about that, Blüte,” He responds easily, though it is not a refusal. You are his 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐦, so alive, so beautiful, at the mercy of someone who daydreams of plucking off your petals and devouring your severed head. “You know how it can be. The work..” He gesticulates vaguely toward you in a way that is stupidly charming when paired with his lazily smile. “Headspace.”
Truthfully, you don’t entirely understand his work. You understand that it is military adjacent and that it takes him from you for weeks, sometimes months at a time. His tattoos and scars don’t help you make much sense of him when he sleeps either. His accent is a mesh between Austrian and something else and he has spoken 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 German with you. His tattoos depict a dated Russian Army crest and you have heard him respond to other names. Not when spoken to, but when strangers say them. Like he’s looking for someone else or maybe they’re looking for— “I just don’t know if you would..” He sucks his teeth like you’re discussing the viewing of a particularly uninteresting film. “Like it. Enjoy it.”
“Of course I would,” You press, deciding that the notion must be that he’s prioritizing your own personal comfort, that perhaps you won’t enjoy him this way and that couldn’t be further from the truth. Your hands find his, fingers smoothing along the length of his forearms, taking in every scar and hair and birth mark. “I always enjoy you, Sebastian.”
“Okay,” He smiles again and you are momentarily stunned by how dark his gaze has become. A depth you’ve seen before— when the neighbor’s chocolate Labrador had been struck by a vehicle in the night and you had discovered it. In tears, fingers in his sleeve, you’d looked up to find cesspools like black holes. They hadn’t scared you then, but they make you nervous now. “As you wish.”
𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 is what greets you first, momentarily blinding and all encompassing as you gather yourself; coming face to face with the jigsaw-like camouflage that litters his trousers. It’s unusually loose around his calves and at the bunch of his knees and you wonder if that’s what makes them actual tactical pants. A stupid, distracting thought; one that does not linger for very long as tawny-colored gloves, rough with their ribbing for grip and for tactical advantage, tug your skin when he catches the heft of your jaw— your cheeks, lips and chin caught up in one of his great paws as he refuses you a complete visual of him, your head turned with just slightly too much force to face a mirror that you dimly recognize is from your bedroom. He brought it down here.
Your hair is frazzled, standing up in every direction from the haphazard blindfold removal and how he pets it with his other hand, deliberately making a mess of you. Your features are flushed down to your chest, accentuating your complexion that he adores and the swell of your breasts, nipples peaking in the cool air. Painfully stiff with how long he’s had you in anticipation, kneeling in the standing vee of his legs. Your soft belly is so appealing like this and he yearns to sink his teeth into your civilian flesh. “I could keep you like this forever, but that is not the plan,” He shoves you forward, broad palm between your shoulder blades and you can barely raise your hands quickly enough to catch— his laughter soft, playful as he circles away from you and toward a table he has assembled in the corner. “You are always telling me that it is okay to let go, to indulge myself but I don’t..” He shakes his head and the shroud is terrifying like this. A neon demon in how the dim light of the basement reflects off of his back, made large than life in his assortment— boots, vest, helmet, shroud, gloves; it all likens him to a persona that you have never so much as imagined. “I do not think you understand what you are asking of me.”
Something vibrates. It’s a loud, mean sound that indicates to you immediately that this is something that plugs into the wall with the strength of whatever setting he has it switched onto. But what has your features twisted into mortal horror is that it’s..
Attached to a pole. PVC, easily, but a slim cream-colored pole that has the wand taped to it with crude black tape, the force of its eager pleasure-bringing motions nearly beckoning you with how it makes the entire tool.. 𝐕𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞. You can spot another one behind him and the brief glimpse of one of your own personal dildos mounted onto a stick is both enthralling and mortifying.
The first touch is like electricity. It taps against your clitoris in a cursory bump as he approaches, humming as you sit up suddenly, both chasing the sweet attention and a means to get into a more comfortable position; the thundering wand traveling in rhythmic circles along your mound that have you gasping his name. “S-Sebastian,” You stutter in time with your fluttering heart, head tilting back as you begin to sink into it, sudden pleasure warming your chilled limbs and and..
Krueger stops. Withdrawing the wand and allowing you both a moment to take in the visual of how you’ve already connected a line of slick to the toy; his laughter belly-deep. Overjoyed. “Sehr süß,” 𝐒𝐨 𝐂𝐮𝐭𝐞, He coos, lifting his other hand to gesticulate for you to remain on your knees but to lean forward. “You can do it, yes,” Sebastian praises as you lean forward on your splayed palms, desperation fueling your ego and confidence as you spread your thighs a touch, offering a slight movement of your hips that you hope is enticing.
The sound returns and before you can even open your mouth to thank him, it’s delicious pressure is at your clit and though not as intense as before, it is more favorable. You rock into the sensation, daring to offer a sidelong glance backward and you are fixated by what you find. Krueger’s left hand remains fixated on its dutiful task, though his right hand strayed, cupping the firm outline of his cock and balls through the front of his fatigues. Squeezing himself, spurred on into his arousal but your eagerness to debase yourself for him. For you both. His breath is a shudder and though you’re sure it completes the look, you wish you could see his face right now more than you’ve wanted anything your life.
As if sensing your distraction, Sebastian offers a soft click of his tongue in minute disappointment, though that only registers to you as a raise in the setting that has your words devolving into mere utterances of noises and your body twisting to get away. “Nein, nein,” He chastises softly, grasping the toy by the vibrator itself to draw as close to you as possible, sweeping in to jut his knee— then heavy thigh underneath your soft stomach, toy-clad hand delving between your thighs to resume its ministrations. It’s a hold that would normally have you pissed, swatting at him that this is demeaning— but as his bicep curls around your middle and locks up into place against him, you can do nothing but claw at his legs, his biceps, his tactical gear as he raises the wand to its highest setting and allows it to rest firmly against your clot and the clutch of your lips.
“Seb—“ Your voice dies on your tongue, a near hiccup as pleasure builds within your center. Molted in your belly, in the very center of your spine and warming you in such a way that you yourself notice amidst your pleasure that you’re dripping with sweat. “Seb-Sebastian, I-I can’t, you have to slow it down, I don’t, I don’t think I can take it, it’s too much!” A heavy sigh escapes him, his touch growing firmer as you feel yourself clench and spasm around nothing, your sensitivity growing and the incessant buzz amplifying the obscene sounds of it kissing your cunt. “Holy fuck,” Your voice drops in register as your orgasm approaches violently, not creeping but sprinting at you; knocking into you and slamming its fists on your chest as you sob through it; writhing in his grasp that only seems to hold you tighter the more you push him away, the more you gasp and shudder and shake.
“I really love you, do you know?” Sebastian has such an interesting way of asking questions and you sometimes chalk the way he speaks solely up to whoever managed to raise this guy. But it’s his tone, so sweet, so cloying, that almost distracts you from he’s beginning to press the head of the wand inside of you. It’s not particularly fat, but you bristle at the intrusion that stops less than a quarter of the way in. He’s teasing you, slowly and gently bumping it against the most nerves at your entrance. It whirs to life, sliding further only as you acquiesce; your innermost muscles only relaxing when he turns the vibrations enough that they travel, stimulating you enough to no longer breathe steadily through your nose. “That’s it,” He praises, pressing a kiss to the top of your head through the mesh, through your hair. “I want to show you something. You have done it for me before but..” His angle shifts, pressing slightly upward at this angle and you open your mouth to protest before closing it. It feels like you have to pee.
“Sebastian,” You begin and he laughs. He wishes that you’d decided to record this session like some of the others, so he could see both your tear-stained face and how well you’re taking the toy. “Trust me, Baby,” You can hear the smile in his voice and though it does feel good, it’s a bit awkward and you feel..
It’s a spot within you that is naturally sensitive, though it’s often teased by the slight curve of his cock or when he manages to find a position that can stimulate you, not an industrial wand on high that has you full enough that it feels like it has nowhere else to go when your inner walls bear down on it. It’s a different kind of pleasure, deeper within you and has you gasping, twitching, chasing it as he follows the gyrations of your hips and praises you beneath his breath. You hadn’t even realized he had been speaking to you this entire time, so fixated on the point of pleasure between your legs that is approaching a second peak that has you both exhilarated and overwhelmed.
You gush around the wand, around his glove, around his sleeve and within the embrace that you are sharing and the cry that leaves you is guttural, deep from within your chest. Your nails find his arm and thigh, digging in past his fatigues as Sebastian offers a sustained hiss as you paw and claw at him; riding out your orgasm as he tortures you with the rapidly declining speed. You’re both relieved and disappointed at the reprieve, shivering in his arms as he smooths a hand along your flank— no longer holding you in place but simply holding you. You expect him to disrobe the gear, to sweep you up the steps right away, but his streak hasn’t quite left. His hand travels, meeting the wand in your pussy that is still expecting aftershocks— twitching around body safe materials as he paws gently at your sore, oversensitive clit. He can’t wait for you to see the puddle you’ve made.
“𝐋𝐞𝐭’𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐣𝐚?“
☠︎ 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍☠︎
