Special Attention
Label Mature 18+
Summary Feyd Rautha has captured you from your home world keeping you as his prized possession. His depravity has no bounds until a fateful event forces him to realize how special you are to him.
🎃October Special Fic List 🎃 6 of 6 🔗 Masterlist
🔗 Feyd-Rautha Portait-in cover art fic mention- permission/commissioned by @yayeett123 🏆
⚠️Hardcore Smut⚠️ Feyd Rauthas favorite • Feyd obsessed • dark romance • his chosen one • vying for Feyd’s attention • hidden competition • constant claiming • power play • Feyd dominant • “perfect pet” • restraints • pleasure training • oral sex fetish• clit play • clit device • size kink • praise kink • Dune style sex toys• orgasm control • orgasm control with device • orgasm denial• implanted with a foreign object • double penetration /w implantation • overstimulation • near death experience • medical revival • multiple orgasms in a row • cream pie • after are • eternal vow • elevation in status
📖 Proofreader @purejasmine @butdaddyilovehim99 ✨ inspo via request 🎃 💕
Special Attention
The fortress of House Harkonnen on Giedi Prime seems like a scar against the planet’s blackened horizon, its spires clawing at the ashen sky.
Inside, the air is heavy, laced with the metallic bite of industrial fumes and the faint, sweetness of incense, a hallmark of Harkonnen decadence.
You navigate the labyrinthine of corridors, your footsteps softened by the polished obsidian floors that reflect your silhouette in distorted fragments.
The walls pulse faintly with conduits, their rhythmic sound a constant reminder of the fortress’s artificial life.
You are no stranger to these halls, as Feyd-Rautha’s favorite, you’ve learned to move with purpose, to keep your head low and your senses sharp.
The na-Baron’s favor is a double-edged sword, privilege laced with peril. You’ve seen others fall from his grace, their fates whispered in the shadowed corners of the fortress: some cast out from his bridal court reputations tarnished, others returned to their home planets permanently altered.
Yet you’ve endured, rising to be kept as his favorite, a position that grants you luxuries beyond your wildest dreams, but demands everything in return.
Today, the summons came at dawn, delivered by a silent, black-clad servant who pressed a data-slate case into your hands.
Your pulse quickened as you read it, a mix of dread and anticipation coiling in your chest.
You pressed the case open already knowing what awaited inside.
Four cuffs, synthetic and unbreakable, embedded with neural sensors, a gift from Feyd- Rautha, a symbol of his claim.
You wear them now concealed beneath the flowing sleeves and floor length hem of your gossamer robe, their cool weight a constant reminder of what awaits.
The fortress seemed silent with muted tension as you prepared. In the bathing chamber, you rinsed in a pool of mineral-rich water, its surface shimmering with iridescent oils.
The heat soothed you, but your mind raced. Feyd’s moods are unpredictable, sometimes cruel, sometimes almost tender, but always insatiable.
Tonight, you sense, will test your limits.
You anointed your skin with a fragrance distilled from Arrakeen flora, its soft notes designed to please Feyd’s heightened senses, and your hair is left loose, without constraint, as he prefers.
The robe you wear is a diaphanous veil, its fabric clinging to your curves, and beneath it the cuffs gleam faintly, their sensors dormant but ready to sync with whatever devices Feyd has prepared.
You’ve learned to expect the unexpected, his chambers are a gallery of perverse ingenuity, filled with devices and tools that blur the line between pleasure and pain.
As you leave the seraglio, a guard escorts you through the fortress’s upper levels. The corridors grow darker, the air colder, as you approach Feyd’s private wing.
The guard halts at a massive door of black alloy, its surface etched with the Harkonnen crest. He inputs a code, and the doors hiss open, revealing a dimly lit antechamber.
“He waits within,” the guard announces, then retreats, leaving you alone.
You step inside, the door sealing shut behind you. The antechamber is sparse, its walls bare save for a single holo-portrait of Feyd in the arena, his pale, muscular form stoic after a kill, his blade covered in blood, his tongue licking the edge in victory.
The image sends a shiver down your spine, not from fear but from the raw power he exudes. You’ve seen that expression in person, felt its weight when he pins you beneath him, his raspy voice whispering promises and threats.
A second door opens, and Feyd’s voice cuts through the silence. “Come, pet.” It’s a command, low and gravelly, laced with an intensity that makes your knees weak.
You obey, stepping into the main chamber, the same obsidian-slabbed room as the previous, except with biotech panels and a raised dais in the center, like a stage set for a performance only you and he will share.
The air is colder here, heavy with the scent of incense and something sharper, like the sky before a storm.
Feyd stands at the room’s center, his back to you, his muscles gleaming under the bluish glow as he adjusts settings on the biotech panel platform.
He’s shirtless, his physique sculpted by years of combat and cruelty: broad shoulders, narrow waist, hard muscles defined to perfection.
His slacks, black and form-fitting, do little to hide how substantial he is, and the sight of his size sends a pulse of heat through you.
He turns slightly, his blue eyes locking onto yours, and his black teeth flash as he smiles, like a predator sizing up his prey.
“You’re late,” he says, though there’s no real anger in his tone, only a teasing edge that promises retribution.
He strides toward you, his movements fluid, intentional, like a panther stalking its kill.
You hold your ground, though every instinct screams to kneel, submit.
He stops inches away, his heat radiating against your skin, his scent, leather, metal, and something uniquely him, filling your lungs.
“I wasn’t,” you reply, your voice steady despite the tremor in your chest.
Defiance, however small, is part of what keeps you in his favor. He likes the challenge, the spark of resistance he can bend but never fully break.
His smirk widens, and he reaches out, his fingers brushing the edge of your robe.
“Cunning,” he rasps, his voice a low sound that vibrates through you. “I will savor dismantling that.”
His hand closes around the fabric at your chest, and with a single, sharp pull, he tears it away, leaving you exposed in only your cuffs.
The cool air touches your skin, raising goosebumps, and your nipples harden under his gaze. His eyes darken, pupils dilating with lust, and you can feel the weight of his attention like a physical touch.
He circles you, his fingers trailing over your shoulders, your spine, your hips, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
Each touch is intentional, testing your reactions, mapping your body like territory he’s claimed countless times before,but never tires of exploring.
Your breath catches as he pauses behind you, his hand sliding up to grip your throat.
His thumb strokes the pulse point beneath your jaw, and you know he can feel your heart racing.
“You’re shivering,” he grins, his full lips brushing your ear, his black teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “Is it fear? Or need?” He rasps.
His other hand slips between your thighs, not touching your core but hovering close enough to make you flinch.
Your body betrays you, a soft sigh escaping your lips and a low, satisfied hum rises from his chest.
“Need,” he discerns his voice barely a breath, and his grip on your throat tightens briefly, a silent approval.
“Good pet,” he says, releasing your throat and stepping back. He gestures to the obsidian dais at the room’s center, its surface draped in black silk. “Lie down. Spread yourself for me.”
Your heart pounds as you obey, climbing onto the dais and positioning yourself as he commanded. The silk is cool against your overheated skin, a stark contrast to the fire in your veins.
You spread your thighs, exposing yourself fully, and the cuffs activate, their neural sensors linking with the dais restraints. They lock, anchoring your wrists and ankles down, leaving you trapped and vulnerable with anticipation
Feyd watches you, his expression dark with satisfaction, his cock already straining against his slacks. He approaches, his hands steady as he reaches for the table’s devices: vials, toys, remotes…things that will soon push you to the edge of oblivion.
“Tonight,” he says, his voice a raspy promise, “I am feeling especially generous.” He discerns, his eyes dark fathomless voids as they rake over your body.
You shiver, knowing this is the moment you become his canvas, his obsession…how you earn the position of his favorite…
You lie there, bound by the cuffs anchoring your wrists and ankles to the edges of the dais, your body splayed for his attention.
His pale, muscular form is a vision of brutal beauty, his skin smooth like polished marble, stretched over ridges that shift with every movement. His black teeth glint in the low light as he smirks, savoring you, his voice raspy and low, cutting through the silence.
“Such a good pet,” he praises, his voice filled with feral delight as he reaches between your spread thighs, his hands gripping into the soft flesh with enough force to bruise.
“Already weeping for your na-Baron’s blade,” he says, his fingers lowering to slide through your slick folds, teasing your clit as it throbs, feeling a desperate ache blooming under his touch.
He reaches for a small, metallic device on the nearby table, a slender, curved phallus designed to fit inside you, attached with two black tiny nodes at the top. He coats it in a shimmering lubricant, the liquid tingling against your skin as he presses it slowly into your entrance.
Your hips push up involuntarily, but he pins them down with his other hand, his strength overwhelming. “Patience, pet,” he soothes, continuing to glide it in.
The stretch is immediate, the phallus filling you deeply, its nodes pulsing faintly against your inner walls.
You wince as your core tightens around it, and Feyd’s eyes darken with lust as he retrieves the phallus, pulling it from your body with the nodes now gone, already lodged deep inside of you.
“This,” he instructs, holding up a small spheroid, his thumb hovering on its sleek button. “Will make you come for me on command.”He says, his other hand lowering the fabric down his waist as his pale cock juts out proud and vicious, the thick veins pulsing beneath pale skin.
The head is flushed a deep rouge, and he wraps his long fingers around the shaft, stroking himself with slow pulls, the motion making the ridges along his cock flex under the low light, and with groan of anticipation, he presses the button.
The nodes surge to life inside of you, a relentless vibration that targets your core and sends shockwaves through your body.
Your back arches, a strangled moan escaping your lips as your walls clench and throb around nothing.
The pleasure is overwhelming, a white-hot current that drowns out everything else.
Your clit pulses in time with the vibrations, and you’re already moaning, body tensing, teetering on the edge of oblivion.
Feyd watches, his thick, pale cock already leaking with precum, twitching against his strokes.
“Not yet,” he taunts, and shuts off the nodes just as your orgasm begins. The sudden absence of sensation is agonizing, leaving you panting, your body trembling with unspent need.
Feyds eyes darken with desire as he sees the slick forming along your folds, and he places the spheroid down on the dias, lowering himself between your thighs feral for it.
His tongue delves in deep, savage and unrestrained, devouring every drop with guttural groans that vibrate against your sensitive skin.
He sucks and licks at your clit with primal fury, his black teeth grazing your inner lips and he buries his face deeper, inhaling your scent like it’s a drug.
You are shivering as his hand digs into your inner thigh, holding you open wider, and your already sensitive clit is pinched between his fingers, rolled and tugged with a precision that makes your hips twitch.
Each twist sends a jolt straight to your core, your body jerking against the restraints as he lowers his mouth again, black teeth grazing your clit before he sucks hard, the wet heat of his flicking tongue exquisite torture as your nerves pulse in pleasure.
You moan until your voice is hoarse, until weak, broken cries spill from your lips, making him groan with a low, animalistic sound that vibrates through your core.
He thrusts his tongue in, just enough to make you come, and as you twitch and writhe in pleasure, he soothes you with slow, soft licks.
Your body is in overstimulation, every touch amplifying the ache deep within, and he pulls back, his hands trailing down your stomach to your clit and spreading your folds with his fingers, exposing the swollen bud.
You feel the cool kiss of another device, a small suction cup that he fits over your clit, and you tremble as you down look at it.
“This will latch on and never let go,” he says, his voice a dark promise as the device forms a soft white halo beneath its translucent shell. “It will kiss you deeper than my mouth ever could.” he reveals, as it begins to glow in a slow, hypnotic rhythm.
It pulses gently at first, a teasing pressure that makes your hips writhe, but when it activates fully…it’s like a supernova.
The suction becomes firmer, drawing a pulse to the surface of your clit, making it throb with an intensity that borders on overwhelming.
Your whimpers turn to cries, your body tensing as the first orgasm rises through you, your walls spasming around the nodes still lodged inside.
“My perfect pet.” He says, watching you moaning his name in exquisite bliss, and he presses the spheroid, making the internal nodes vibrate in sync with the clit device, prolonging your climax until your body is rocking against the table, your hips grinding as if fucking an invisible force.
But he’s far from done.
He climbs over you on the dais, his muscular frame blocking the light as he aligns his cock with your entrance. The nodes are still inside as he pushes in alongside them, the added fullness taking you over the limit.
He groans, his jaw clenching, the exquisite pleasure extending to him as the vibrations hum against the thick length of his cock.
He loses himself, his face softened in ecstasy, his eyes fluttering in bliss as he grinds the head of his cock against the nodes, his cock twitching at the dual sensations.
The overstimulation morphs into a deep, throbbing pressure as he thrusts, groaning deeply in his throat. His cock slides slickly in and out, dragging against the vibrating nodes with every powerful thrust of his hips, until his voice fractures in pleasure.
“Made for my blade…made for me,” he rasps, his hands gripping your thighs, as he begins pounding into you. Each thrust drives the nodes deeper, the vibrations syncing with his rhythm, and your walls milk him with every pulse.
He leans down, his full lips brushing your neck, your jaw, his black teeth nipping your skin. “My favorite pet” he praises, groaning as his cock twitches inside of you. “You break so beautifully, clenching around me like you’ll never let go…..None of the others endure like you.”
Your gaze up at him, your moans lost in the overload of sensation. Every time he thrusts, he pushes the nodes as they slip around his cock, and you want to cry it feels so good, you want to scream but your body can’t react as you drown in the abyss of overstimulation.
He reaches for a vial on the dais, a shimmering, iridescent liquid that he uncorks with his teeth. He tilts your chin back, lining it to your open mouth, and pours the liquid onto your tongue.
It’s sharp, like spiced wine, and within seconds, a warm, euphoric haze spreads through your body, heightening your senses, every touch magnified, every thrust amplified. The drug extends your climax, keeping you teetering in oblivion, your body writhing beneath him in unbridled ecstasy.
Time loses meaning under his relentless attention, and he uses the spheroid, pressing it to trigger orgasm after orgasm, each one more intense than the last, until your body is a quivering mess.
Your heart pounds erratically, your breaths shallow, and suddenly, a sharp pain lances through your chest.
Your vision darkens, your body seizing as cardiac arrest grips you. The sensors monitoring your heart rate in the cuffs go off, and Feyd’s eyes narrow as he looks up at the biotech panels with a flicker of anger.
He tsks, quickly reaching for a small, patch-shaped device, its surface etched with metallic glowing patterns. He presses it to your chest, directly over your heart, and a jolt of energy surges through you. Your body arches, gasps tearing from your throat as your heart stutters back to life.
The medical patch stabilizes your cardiac rhythm, and Feyd watches, his expression unreadable. “I’m not done with you yet,” he says, almost tenderly, his hand stroking your sweat-soaked hair.
His thrusts are slower, savoring the way your overstimulated body reacts, your walls fluttering around him, your body leaking sweat, tears, slick; every inch of you exhausted, spent beyond endurance.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he groans, a deep, guttural sound, and spills inside of you, his cock pulsing as he rides out his release.
When he pulls out, he brings the phallus to your slick entrance and clicks a button as the nodes slip free, attaching to it, leaving you empty and aching.
He leans over you, pressing slow kisses on your chest before licking a stripe up your neck. His tongue seeks entry to your mouth, and as you accept, he swirls it against yours as he cups your face.
“My chosen one,” he whispers, his voice a soft rasp as he lowers his fingers to your clit, “I would never let anything take you from me.” He vows removing the suction device, and he presses a hand to your pelvis in a rare moment of gentleness.
“The agony I would feel without you by my side,” he breathes, his nose brushing along your jaw, the admission pulled from somewhere deep and unguarded, the thought of almost losing you lingering in his voice.
“I will have you as my only one,” he whispers against your skin, his fingers circling the steady beat of your heart. “I will breed you, fill you with my heirs,” he says, his hand sliding over your stomach. “I will arrange our union under the Baron, my uncle’s blessing to bind you to me eternally.”
You blink up at him, voice heavy with exhaustion and awe. “You would….have me as your Baroness?”
His hand lifts to your cheek, thumb tracing your lower lip with quiet possession. “My days as a playboy are over,” he says, studying your face as if committing the moment to memory. “You are my endless satisfaction.” He confesses.
He presses a button to release the cuffs, and you immediately cling to him, your body aching and sore, your mind drifting off in a haze, the patch still attached to your chest, the aftershocks of his touch lingering like a brand.
“You are mine now…title and soul”…he says, claiming you completely, his chosen one, his baroness, every pulse of your heart,and every part of your flesh, bound to his special attention. “forever.”
END ⚔️
🎃October Special Fic List 🎃 6 of 6 🔗 Masterlist
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