Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Runic Services

Day 1: Masturbation & Orgasm Control

Freed x Laxus

Freed leant back on his leather armchair, slowly stroking his dick in the low light of his playroom. His lubed hand ran up and down his length, slow and taunting as he watched the man kneeling before him with the grin of a sadist, and of a debauched prince.

Laxus pumped his own cock manically, as fast a movement as he could. His eyes were clenched shut, his bare muscles shining from his sweat, and his fist moved so fast that it blurred as he fucked it. His face was clenched tight with denied and sought after pleasure, breaths coming fast and panting with each sharp exhalation.

"That can hardly feel good," Freed mused as he toyed with his own slit, and he got a nasty glare in response. "Anything to say?"

"No sir," Laxus grunted, shifting his kneeling position slightly.

"Are you sure?" Freed asked, sliding his hand down his cock, watching as Laxus tracked the movement.

"Yes sir."

"Good," Freed smiled nastily, and glanced to the clock. He didn't need to, but the performance was part of the fun. Making Laxus feel hope, or perhaps hopeless, truly set Freed's blood on fire. "Times up for now. Hands behind your head."

Laxus groaned a pitiful groan, but dropped his dick like it burned him. He shifted, took a slow breath, and laced his hands behind his head. He looked up at Freed, annoyance and anger covering his flushed features. Freed didn't believe the expression for a second; his dragon was a needy, submissive beast at his core, and loved having his pleasure denied. Edging, denial, chastity… Laxus craved nothing more.

"Some would say you're doing this on purpose," Freed mused, slowly raising to stand, stroking himself still. "Thirty seconds should be more than long enough to cum, don't you think?"

"You're fucking edging me and you know it," Laxus growled.

"No," Freed stepped closer. He took a drop of his own precum, spread it over his thumb and finger, and used them to take Laxus by the chin. "Edging would be me stopping you the moment I see you approaching the end. All I'm doing today is giving you the opportunity to cum however you please."

"In thirty second bursts every five minutes."

"Given you're a man who hasn't cum in three weeks, I would think that's enough."

"Fuck you."

"Not today," Freed grinned, and crouched down. Laxus' gaze flicked down to follow the movement of Freed's dick, before looking back to his face. "You could just admit you love to be denied, you know? It might be easier. Because I've fucked, sucked and played with you enough times to know you like things slow, gentle, and teasing. And if you really were trying to make yourself cum, you wouldn't be fucking your fist."

"You don't-"

Freed cut him off by gripping him tight and leaning in. "I know how you take your pleasure, Dragon. I am the authority on the matter, so I know for a fact you love it slow…"

He let his hand slide down Laxus' heaving, sweat slicked chest in a needlessly slow motion. He teased Laxus' nipple as he passed, and let his nails graze against the rigid definition of his muscles.

"Gentle…"

He let his hand roam lower, taking Laxus' twitching and pulsing dick in hand for just a moment, before cupping the heavy, pulled up balls. He gave the lightest of squeezes, and relished the look of ecstasy that Laxus tried to fight.

"And teasing."

He ran a sharp nailed finger down the vein of Laxus' cock, just light enough for Laxus to buck up into, but not enough for him to really feel anything. He pushed just a little firmer on Laxus' cock head, drawing out a weeping drop of precum and a delicious groan from his submissive, as well as an aborted little thrust that had Freed smirking. He raised his cum slicked finger to his lips and licked it dry, relishing the heated look Laxus gave him.

Taking a step back, Freed began to stroke his cock again, making sure it was right at Laxus' eye level. He knew what Laxus wanted to do. To lurch forward and suck him. To jerk himself off at the slow, lethargic place that would have him spilling over the floor. To let his dignity go fully and become a slut for his need.

But he wouldn't do any of that, because Freed was master, and Laxus was his to order.

And certainly not when they were in play.

"I think it's time for you to make a decision, don't you?" Freed taunted. "Shall we keep going with your thirty seconds, or shall we extend our wager?" Freed knew what the answer would be, but Laxus put on a show of thought anyway. Freed played his part dutifully. "I won't make you beg this time."

Laxus shifted where he knelt again, before grunting out. "I accept the bet."

"And the bet is?"

Laxus growled, and it was true annoyance this time. They both knew, but it was fun to drive the knife in. "We both jerk off until one of us cums. If you cum first, I have to stop and can't cum for the next week."

"And if you cum first?"

"Then I thank you for it."

"And why?"

"Because you're in charge, you're my dom, and dom's don't get punishments."

"Correct," Freed praised, and leant down to plant a slow, sultry kiss on his dragon. "You're ever so good for me, aren't you?"

"Go fuck yourself," Laxus grunted.

"Perhaps I will," Freed laughed and took a seat on his leather armchair again. He leant back, legs spread wide and posture relaxed. "To the winner goes the spill."

Maybe Laxus would have something to say about the wordplay, but Freed started to stroke his seven thick inches with a slow, amused, almost mocking pace. The glide of his lubed hand over his length had Laxus taking in a juddering breath, and he shifted again to widen the gap between his knees. His right hand took his cock – with a looser grasp this time – while his left roamed over his chest.

Freed watched his sub as he truly found his pleasure for the first time that night. Laxus was slow, grazing and light on himself. Even when he was in control, Laxus needed the dominance of a light touch.

He was resplendent like this. Hard muscle shifting and moving like a dance, self-appreciating and adoring all at once. Laxus was a god among men, he always had been, and shone with the rippling of his abs, the flexing of his chest, the quivering of his thighs, and the wonderful leaking of his dick.

Damn, Freed loved wrecking him.

He loved the flushed, needy, desperate expression he could bring out in Laxus. He loved Laxus with his hair matted to his head, damp from sweat. He loved the groans and grunts of restrained neediness that Laxus would never usually let loose.

His thunder god belonged on his knees, a perfect picture of pathetic masculinity. Strong and powerful and cowed entirely to Freed's whims.

But Freed wanted more.

More nights of Laxus being tormented by hot, steamy, perverse dreams. More glances of desperation and fury from across the guildhall when nobody else was looking. More begging to be released from their deal so he could finally empty his balls and feel the pleasure Freed had been denying him.

Freed wanted to own Laxus. To push him to his limits, and obliterate them fully. To have Laxus as his own, dick, heart and soul.

Spurred on by the idea and how close he was to getting it, Freed stroked himself faster and faster. He felt the furious sensation of an orgasm rising like a fast tide, overwhelming and dominating and all encompassing. He was close. He was going to cum. He was going to consign Laxus to another unfulfilled week of desire.

"At my feet," Freed growled out the order. "Now!"

Following the order would be the death knell of Laxus' orgasm, but Laxus did as he was told and crawled to Freed's feet. He opened his mouth without needing to be told, with his hands behind his head again and eyes on his dominant's cock.

Perfect. Needy, desperate, but entirely where he needed to be.

With a moan that ripped through his throat, Freed let his orgasm fly. He shot spurt after spurt of hot cum over Laxus' red, exhausted face. It splattered over his cheeks, his closed eyes, and onto his tongue. The look of hate filled satisfaction drove Freed wild, and he stood to better aim his final cum shot right onto Laxus' tongue.

Thighs shaking from the intensity, Freed took a slow breath, his own firm body writhing with wavering muscles. He cupped Laxus' cheeks gently. Only when Laxus had his eyes open, his cum covered face looking right at him did Freed speak again.

"Swallow."

Laxus did as he was told, and Freed patted his cheek gently as a reward. "Thank you, sir."

"You're very welcome. Now, I assume you can make it to the shower on your own," Freed smiled a slightly nasty smile. "And I hope you know how to make it cold, yes?"

"Yes," Laxus said resignedly.

"Then get to it," Freed ordered, stepping back into his armchair. He reached for a glass of wine that had, as yet, been untouched. He raised it in toast. "Here's to another week of your celibacy."

Laxus stomped off. Freed grinned.

Chapter Text

Day 2: Cumming Untouched

Freed x Natsu

Of all of his playmates, none were quite as restless as Natsu Dragneel.

He was a firecracker of a man in all possible definitions; in bed more than anywhere else. He fucked like he lived; with volume, intensity and passion. The first time they'd slept together, Natsu had been irrepressible. He had thrown Freed to the floor, kissed him all over, ran his hands over Freed's entire front, and rutted into him like an animal. It had been one of the most energetic fucks of Freed's life, and one he often revisited with his dick in hand.

And the next session, where Freed had topped, he had been one of the most appreciative partners Freed had ever had. He yelled and roared and screamed, taking Freed deep and rubbing their tight bodies against each other as best as their position could allow.

Natsu was energy, and tactility, and passion.

So of course, Freed wanted to deny it all.

For their time together, Natsu had always just wanted to fuck, and Freed had always been happy to oblige the man. He was a stud in all ways, and knew what he was doing. But when he had come to Freed the day before their session, admitting he'd heard tales of Freed's more sadistic, domineering side and wanted a taste of it.

Freed had been delighted and made a perfect hell for him. He had laid out four simple rules that, if broken, would end their session and have him removed from Freed's cabin in the woods before Natsu had the time to put his clothes back on.

Rule 1: He must not speak

Rule 2: He must not touch himself

Rule 3: He must not get within three feet of Freed

Rule 4: He must be plugged constantly

Rule 5: He must cum before the night is over

It must be torture for the poor man, who was pacing the playroom with a plug shoved high up his ass, his tight body fully exposed, and his dick desperate to be touched. But Natsu had an obedient side, it seemed, because every time he went to tug his dick, he stopped himself at the last possible moment. As distraction, he pulled his hair, hopped up and down, and even slapped himself once.

Frankly, the desperation and need and struggle Natsu was showing was one of the hottest things Freed had ever seen. Natsu was on the edge of utter fury – of calling Freed's bluff and storming out of the cabin naked and plugged just to tug on his dick – but he wouldn't.

Natsu would do a lot of things, but not back out of a challenge. That's why this was working.

Freed could do nothing but watch as his toy realised his situation. Natsu's body was magnificent. Tight, cut, and perfectly muscled. His cock hung low and hard, with pubes trimmed neat. His ass was firm and round, parted slightly by the plug Freed had presented him and watched as he placed it high and deep.

His face, though. That was the masterpiece.

Warring emotions all blurred into frustration. Natsu wanted nothing more than to stroke himself, or spread his cheeks for Freed, or to shove his dick down Freed's own throat. But he was being challenged, and there was a way to win. He had to win. He had to figure it out. He had to cum. All this contorted his face into beautiful fury.

With every step he made, Freed could see the tiny limp of a well plugged ass, and he knew that Natsu was trying to find a way to shove it deeper with the movement. It was all for nothing. It was a mid size plug; big enough to stretch and burn, but not big enough to bring a man off.

And, Freed decided to reveal, fit with a little trick.

"Might this help?" He said, reaching into his pocket and pulled out a small remote.

He was dressed in a white shirt and dress pants, meant to contrast Natsu's nudity and truly make clear who was in control. His clothes were just tight enough around the thighs and chest that Natsu's eyes kept snagging on his body, and Freed gave him a little flex when he saw the gaze land on his arm.

Without further warning, he pushed the button on the remote, and a buzzing sound filled the room.

With his ass vibrating, the plug taunting his hole brutally but not deeply enough, Natsu fell to the ground. On all fours, he instinctively went to grab his dick, and again stopped himself in the last moment. He clenched his fist and glared at Freed, but still didn't yell whatever insult Freed was sure he was thinking. Instead, he looked around helplessly, body tenser now as he tried to find a way to bring himself to relief.

The room had been cleared, though. The playroom typically had toys strewn about, for ease of reaching, but Freed had cleaned it completely. Now, it was a room with a padded floor, with only a chair to fill the space, which Freed occupied.

Seemingly knowing he had no other choice, Natsu forwent any dignity. He shifted his position into an awkward face down lay, propping his torso up on his forearms. It was the only way he could rut his dick against the ground, with little thrusts. It was laughable, and pathetic, and beautiful.

And, most importantly, it wasn't working.

Only allowed to have half jutted pounding, Natsu would never find his pleasure. He would just look ridiculous and needy and perfectly wrecked. Freed could live in the moment forever, and he would never see Natsu again without thinking of this, but the poor little dragon was new to this, and Freed wasn't so sadistic to leave him like this.

"Might I offer a proposition," Freed said. "I rescind the rule about you getting close to me, and I very graciously allow you to hump my boot to completion." He raised his foot, the polished black leather of his boot glinting in the light. "And in return, once you cum, you lick up every drop?" Natsu opened his mouth, and Freed raised a hand to stop him. It would be a shame to kick him out after he'd gotten so far. "Yes or no, do you accept these terms?"

Natsu nodded manically. Freed placed his foot firmly in front of him, and motioned for Natsu to begin. Natsu was across the room in a moment, dropping to his knees and rubbing his dick against the stiff leather.

It didn't give much more pleasure than the floor – it can't have – but Natsu was faster and more manic than before. Freed could see the long length sliding against the stitching, desperate for any friction and texture. Natsu was moaning and flushed, looking beautifully decimated as he fucked Freed's boot as best he could.

With a grunt, he grabbed Freed's leg, holding it tight around the upper shin in the same way he would hold Freed against him as they fucked for real. Freed raised the boot slightly, keeping his heel against the floor, and Natsu acted immediately. He pushed his dick between the boot's sole and the floor and fucked madly. He rested his forehead against Freed's knee, thrusts getting faster and faster. He was a man ruined, and Freed pushed his boot down just to make that clear.

An ear-splitting moan filled the silence, and Freed could only watch as overwhelmed pleasure flooded Natsu's expressions. He bucked and thrusted, trying to hold Freed's leg closer as he rode out what looked to be a wonderfully twisted orgasm.

A heavy breath followed, and Natsu fell back on the soft flooring. His cut abs rose and fell as relief marred his expression. Freed allowed him the moment, taking the chance to see the man in his exhausted, flaccid beauty. Only once the moment had passed, and he was sure the adrenaline was mutating into the wonder of post nut clarity, did Freed speak again.

"Don't you have another task to do?" He raised his cum stained boot, and Natsu stared at it. He stared and stared and went to speak. "Whatever you're about to say, is it worth walking home naked for breaking a rule?"

Natsu seemed conflicted, before shaking his head no. Slowly, and with a slight reluctance that had Freed's cock straining against his pants, Natsu went back to his hands and knees. He lowered his head down, tongue poking out slowly. Freed watched with wrapped amusement, knowing the taste of his own spend would be made ever more pungent with Natsu's draconic senses.

Forcing himself down, Natsu licked at Freed's boot. He cleaned the top, and when Freed raised it to give him access, he cleaned the rubber sole. Then he leant down further, cleaning the floor like he was made to do it.

Once done, he leant back on his back, and pointed to his mouth. Freed nodded, and natsu spoke for the first time since he had arrived. "You're nasty when you wanna be, huh?"

"I'm nasty all the time; I just tend to indulge you," Freed corrected.

"You want me to suck that?" He nodded to Freed's obvious bulge.

"I'll tend to myself," Freed assured him. "Are we meeting again next month as usual?"

"Sure are," Natsu grinned, before adding. "And keep up the sadism stuff. It's hot as fuck."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Do your worst."

"Oh, I can assure you, you'll regret saying that."

Natsu grinned, "Hope so, sir."

Chapter Text

Day 3: Nipple Clamps

Freed x Gajeel

As soon as the coin landed tails up, Freed knew his fate was sealed.

True enough, Gajeel gave him a vicious, toothy smile. "Strip off, Justine," he demanded casually. He rolled his sleeves up, exposing thick and veiny forearms that seemed to flex with sadistic anticipation. "Let's test these fuckers out."

As Freed stripped off his clothes, Gajeel pulled out two nasty looking clamps from a small box. They were metal, with spikes so small you could barely see them, but would certainly be felt. A thin chain hung limply between them, with a looped ring in the centre. A deceptively simple toy, which would cause utter agony on its victim. And today, that victim would be Freed.

Shirt on the floor along with his pants, he stood in grey boxer briefs tight enough to show the details of his long hardening cock. He clasped his hands behind his back, legs spread slightly in the pose of submission Gajeel always demanded after winning the coin flip.

Freed's moments of submission were few and far between, and there were very few men who could offer the sadism he needed. But, ever since he had become the guild's go-to kinkster, Freed had needed an array of supplies and toys, and Gajeel was a master craftsman in the instruments of torture. But they all needed testing, so whenever Gajeel made something new for him, they flipped a coin, and the loser was the victim. At first, Freed had been unsure, but Gajee had proven himself a worthwhile dom. Something about him made it clear that, deep in his soul, a part of him loved causing pain.

That was what Freed needed in a dom. Not playing at cruelty, not gentility. Just sadism and a man who wanted him broken.

Their dynamic was well tested now, and Gajeel didn't take any time to appreciate the firmness of Freed's body as he slowly breathed in and out, his chest rising and contracting as he waited for the inevitable agony that was to befall him.

Wordlessly, Gajeel ran a hand over Freed's chest, rough skin firm and probing. He rubbed and toyed with Freed's nipples, smirking to himself at the stilted breath Freed let out.

"When d'you last cum?" Gajeel asked.

"Three days."

"That's a long time for you, perv," he taunted. "It'll make you real sensitive huh?"

"I expect so."

"Good."

He said nothing else, and instead raised the clamps with a nasty smile. He grazed them over Freed's chest, the sharp teeth sending pained shivers down Freed's spine. Gajeel's magic allowed him to make infinitely more intricate and detailed metalwork. Which, in turn, made the teeth of the clamp sharper. Possibly the sharpest clamps ever made.

With a held breath, Freed waited. The clamp hovered over his right nipple, not touching but so close it was torture. And then, with the cruelest of grins, Gajeel snapped the clamp shut.

"Ah!" Freed exclaimed.

The pain was instantly agonising. The clamp was shut brutally, digging into the sensitivity of his nipples brutally. His legs shook slightly, as if he had been attacked on a mission. His body clenched entirely, and his cock rose to complete hardness.

"Fuck yeah," Gajeel whispered to himself.

Without warning, the other clamp snapped onto Freed's left nipple, dragging out another groan of total pain. His breathing was quick and unsteady as he tried to acclimatise to the agony spreading through his chest. He dug his nails into his thighs, ground his teeth and glared daggers at Gajeel's grinning face, as if any of it could stop the agony of the tiny knives burning him.

Once his legs had stopped shaking slightly, and his breathing was a forced meditative pace that barely helped, Gajeel's grin split wider. He looped his finger into the large ring of the chain, and spoke with a growl. "You ready, Perv?"

He didn't give Freed a chance to answer before yanking the chain with a sharp, strong movement. Freed cried out, tears blurring his vision as he jerked forward into Gajeel's space. He barely heard the mocking laughter, ears ringing as pain overtook all senses.

"It's real funny people see ya as some kinda dom sadist," Gajeel taunted, playing with the chain lightly enough to have the clamps tug and shift with each movement. "'Cause I only ever see a lil pain bitch."

He pulled the chain again, yanking Freed forward another agonising step. Freed's voice was hoarse as he whispered, "please."

"You ever get hard on a mission during a fight? Always thought you might," Gajeel grinned. "Bet you've popped a boner over a punch to the face. Right?"

"Gajeel." Freed almost begged.

"Answer me boy!" Gajeel snarled; and yanked Freed close again, this time pressing their chests together. He cupped Freed's chin almost tenderly, while absently playing with the chain. He gently repeated himself. "Answer me."

"Yes, I have," Freed admitted, though he didn't know if he was being honest. The pain was too much for him to care; acquiescing to Gajeel's desires was all that mattered.

"Thought so," Gajeel grinned. "Ready for the weight?"

A flash of magic later, and Gajeel was holding a black metal weight with a hook on it. He casually informed Freed it weighed ten pounds and raised the hook, so it looped around the ring. He didn't drop it, but Freed knew he would, and he'd get no warning for when it happened.

They looked at each other for a moment. Freed, wrecked and hazy eyed. Gajeel, cocky and gleefully sadistic. And then, the moment Freed blinked, the weight dropped.

Everything else has been kind compared to this. The tug and bite and screaming pain had Freed dropping; but Gajeel wouldn't let him. He hooked his hands under Freed's arms and forced him to stay up, the weight dragging his sensitive nipples down with the brutal clamps. Freed was shaking all over, and Gajeel clearly relishes it.

"Please," Freed begged. "Please, that's too much."

"Would you stop if you were domming?" Gajeel asked. "You ain't safe worded and barely begging. Would you stop now?"

Freed wouldn't. "Please. Just stop and I'll…"

No ideas came to mind; the agony was too all encompassing. Maybe Gajeel took pity on him, because he spoke with a shrug. "How about you wake me up with your mouth on my cock for the next week, and I let you go?"

"Yes," Freed panted. "Anything."

"Anything? Then it's a month of that, and I get to slap you around a bit once you're done."

"Fine," Freed grunted.

Gajeel lifted the weight, and removed it from the ring. He watched with amusement as Freed forced himself to stand on shaking legs, wobbling and ruined. He went to remove the clamp, but Gajeel grabbed his wrist before he could. "We both know that ain't how you take off clamps with your subs. Only fair you get the same treatment."

With a shuddering breath, Freed knew he was beaten. "I suppose."

Gajeel shoved Freed against the nearest wall, and held him against it with a firm hand. He looked down at the man, usually so strong and empowered, now shaking and hard and leaking in his shorts. He loved making Freed feel pathetic, and they both knew it.

"You ready?"

"No."

"Good."

With a brutal move, and with Freed still pinned to the wall, he pulled on the chain as hard as he could. The clamps were ripped off from Freed's nipples, and the roar of pain had Gajeel cackling as he stepped back.

Freed collapsed onto the floor, his body giving out as agonising pain overwhelmed every nerve. Maybe he was crying, maybe he wasn't. He knew nothing but the pain, and the man who had caused it.

"Have fun, pretty boy," Gajeel taunted, stepped towards the door without a care for the state he was leaving Freed in. "And I guess I'll be seein' a lot of ya this month, huh? I expect your a-game; I know you can suck better than any man in the guild. And if you're not sucking me by the time I'm awake even once, the deals off and those clamps go back on, and I have some real fun with ya."

He left without another word, leaving Freed a pathetic ball on the floor, his dick hard, and his face stained with tears.

Chapter Text

Day 4: Hypnosis

Freed x Jellal

Runes were a varied spell set and had many strands Freed didn't often use. Hypnosis was one such strand. During missions, Bickslow had the mind control element covered, and in Freed's sessions, most men didn't wish to have their mind in Freed's hands.

Jellal was not most men.

He was a highly stressed, highly guilt-ridden man who needed to get out of his head, and came to Freed for his release. Wether that helplessness and lack of control came through orders, hypnosis, or the occasional consensual blackmail, Freed was the key for Jellal to turn off his mind and do as he was told. As such, the slightly glazed look that flashed over his eyes when Freed placed a rune on him was now familiar. Their twice yearly sessions had long since become a favourite of Freed's; having a proud man at his mercy was always thrilling, and Jellal was as beautiful as he was obedient.

"Tell me something humiliating," Freed ordered, just to test the spell.

Where previously Jellal might have argued the demand, he now spoke plainly. "I've been sneaking into the restroom of the council to jerk off multiple times a week thinking about you."

"Good," Freed praised. "I assume you cum. What do you do with it?"

"Clean it up."

"Next time, cum on your hand and lick it up."

"Yes sir."

Freed paced around Jellal. He had him kneeling on the floor, wearing nothing but a pair of tight white briefs the man would never wear without being compelled to. He was looking down at the ground, hands laid on his thighs in a pose of perfect submission, with his cock hard and straining the fabric of his underwear. His hair was styled as he would in a council meeting, and Freed knew he had come straight from his work. Perfectly put together for Freed to ruin.

"Slap yourself across the face as hard as you can five times."

Moving without thinking, Jellal slapped himself. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Each slap was vicious and rang out sharply through the playroom. Freed tipped his head up and saw a deep red now marred Jellal's cheek, before dropping his grasp and letting him go back to his eyes down position. He ran his hands through his sub's hair, knowing Jellal wanted to lean into the scratching touch, but wasn't allowed by the rules of his hypnosis. He did what Freed said; no more, no less.

Dominating Jellal was a mental game as much a physical one. The man was desperate to deny his instincts. To break the rules he has placed on himself, and to be the fool he had never been allowed. It allowed Freed to get… creative.

"Cluck like a chicken for the next thirty seconds."

Jellal did as bid, flapping his arms like an idiot. He would hate it. He would be mentally cursing Freed for making him do it, and screaming in his mind that this wasn't what he wanted. But it was. He wanted mental domination. To be powerless and weak and without responsibility. He wanted to be told what to do; and to only have to obey because he had no choice.

Once the clucking had stopped, Jellal had the most beautiful blush. It was embarrassment, and Freed relished it. Almost as much as he relished the strained briefs, now wet with precum and tenting hard.

"Answer honestly; did you enjoy doing that?"

"No. It was awful."

"And you looked so ridiculous doing it, too," Freed taunted. "Now, tell me the three most attractive physical qualities you possess. And no flowery language; be blunt."

With a shaky breath, Jellal spoke. "Number one: I'm fit."

"Expand. Be specific."

"I have a ripped six pack, large thighs and a defined chest that make people want to fuck me," He was forcing the words out.

The man really did hate self aggrandising; it was funny to see him forced into it, and hot as fuck. The sight of his barely their rebellion spoke of a man fighting tooth and nail against his hypnosis, and he was failing. Freed had the power and Jellal had none. His dick was so hard it was testing the sewing of the briefs, so Freed pushed onwards. "The second quality?"

"I'm pretty," he admitted, and Freed gestured for him to go on. "I have sharp facial features and soft eyes and long hair that people find beautiful in an etherial way. Most people find me very pretty."

"That they do," Freed said, stroking a hand down Jellal's cheek. "And the final quality is?"

With a swallow to give him hesitance, Jellal spoke again. "I have a long, thick dick."

Freed grinned. For whatever reason, Jellal was always a little shy about his cock, despite being beautifully hung. It was marvellous to make him admit to it. "And how long and thick is it, exactly?"

"Eight inches hard, six soft, above average girth."

"And how do you know how long it is so specifically?"

"I measured it."

"Did anyone make you do that?"

"No," Jellal admitted, face blooming red. "I chose to do it myself."

Freed let the moment stand, making Jellal fester in the admission. He wordlessly walked to the large curtains that bathed the playroom in darkness, and pulled them apart to reveal the doors to the front balcony. He opened it wide, and the breeze that hit Jellal made him shiver.

Despite living in the middle of a thick, otherwise unpopulated forest, Freed didn't usually open his windows during a session for the sake of his sub's privacy. But nobody would ever see or hear; they were too far out for that, and it was a useful tool to use so long as he did it sparingly. Jellal wanted to be mindfucked, and Freed knew just how to toy with him and push him to the extreme.

"Since you're so proud of your looks, let's show you off to the world. Step out onto the balcony please," Freed ordered, and Jellal had no choice but to obey.

Walking out, the sun hit his nearly naked body. He hadn't been wrong; Jellal was a man oozing sex appeal and pretty masculinity. Firm abs, handsome features and a wonderfully plump ass that Freed felt had been woefully ignored in Jellal's list of his better attributes. He stood back, letting the cool evening air hit Jellal all over.

"Flex. Let's show off those muscles."

With no choice, Jellal began to cycle through a series of different flexing positions, all meant to show the true strength his body possessed. The poses were varied and, fascinatingly, must have existed in Jellal's mind because Freed certainly wasn't dictating him to do each specific pose. Perhaps the man had a greater appreciation of his own body after all. That would be fun to explore.

"Drop the briefs. Let's see that cock you're so proud of."

He hooked his hands into the waistband of the briefs and removed them. His fat cock jumped up and down after its release, a trail of pre cum leaking down onto the wooden slats of the balcony. His ass was tight and clenched, and Freed was half tempted to take him over his knee and spank him to truly appreciate it. But not now.

No, now was time to truly fuck with Jellal.

"At the top of your voice, I want you to repeat after me," Freed ordered. "I am Jellal Fernandes. I am hot as hell. I have the body of a stud. I have a fat cock. I am made for pleasure and nothing else."

"I am Jellal Fernandes!" Jellal roared loud, voice straining with the volume. "I am hot as hell! I have the body of a stud! I have a fat cock! I am made for pleasure and nothing else!"

The words echoed around the forest. Nobody would hear, Freed was certain of that. But he wanted Jellal to wonder. To think maybe someone could. To panic that maybe, just maybe, he had revealed this side of him to the world; and the consequences would haunt him. Hypnosis was a total transfer of power; and Freed knew Jellal wanted the danger of submission more than anything else.

"How long is left of our session?" He asked after a moment.

"One hour. Seventeen minutes. Twelve seconds and counting," Jellal answered.

"Wow. Only thirteen minutes since we begun," Freed laughed. "How about you warm my cock with your mouth for a little while," he said as he turned to walk back into the playroom, removing his belt as he did so. Jellal followed, leaving the doors open wide and his briefs on the balcony. "That'll give me more than enough time to think of how to truly fuck your life up, won't it?"

"It will sir," Jellal agreed.

Freed sat, Jellal knelt. Freed presented his hard cock, Jellal took it.

He wouldn't ruin Jellal, but he would enjoy getting close.

Chapter Text

Day 5: Finger Sucking

Freed x Bickslow

Bickslow loved nothing more than having a cock rutting deep in his throat. To put his long, flexible tongue to use; and wrap it right around a hard and needy dick as he took it to the root. He was a man made to suck dick, and loved everything about it. The taste, the ache, the gagging. Nothing got him hotter than being the cocksucker he was destined to be.

So Freed knew exactly why this was torture for him.

Their session had been planned for weeks in advance. Bickslow always let Freed decide what they'd be doing, and relished Freed's more dominant side. Pain, humiliation, bondage. Anything was good, but nothing was better than having Freed deep in his throat, pounding into his mouth. And that's how it always ended.

But today, Freed had different plans altogether. He told Bickslow to strip upon entering, to kneel before him, and to open his mouth. He then explained that for the next two hours, Bickslow would be doing nothing but sucking Freed's fingers. No flogging. No rope. No dick. Just his fingers.

"To make it explicitly clear," Freed said, forcing his finger a little deeper into Bickslow's mouth, who sucked on it dutifully. "This is revenge. You know that don't you?"

Bickslow nodded. He's tried speaking earlier, likely to bait Freed into a punishment, but all Freed did was reset the timer and consign him to another ten minutes of sucking.

"I understand what you were attempting to do, of course. You're nothing if not the most intolerable brat I've ever met," Freed mused, spreading his legs wider so Bickslow got a better look at his clothed, hard cock. "But did you really think pulling a prank on me would be the way to antagonise me into giving you what you need?" Bickslow kept on sucking. "Answer me, Boy!"

He shook his head and sucked harder on Freed's finger, spit drooling down as he moved.

"And you really thought that setting up a bucket of pink paint above the library door was going to get me hard for you? To have me wanting you over my lap, or caged, or bound and whipped? You thought I'd be so easily manipulated?"

Under a heavy gaze, Bickslow gave the slightest nod.

"It's backfired, hasn't it? Because today, this is all you're getting. Something so close to what you want; but not it. Not my cock. Not my desire. And certainly not my cum," Freed smiled down at him. "Speaking of which, I should inform you that I've decided you won't be sucking my cock until the start of the new year."

Bickslow tried to jerk back and argue the point, so Freed shoved his finger deeper into his mouth and held him by the back of the head.

"If you stop sucking for even a second before I allow you to, I will cage that little thing swinging between your legs and have you plugged until the very idea of pranking another person never enters your mind again," Freed hissed out the threat, before leaning back and smirking. "Understand, Puppy?"

Bickslow nodded, and gave Freed's finger a long, slow suck.

"Good boy," he praised in the most patronising voice he could muster. "And I'm sure you'll be fine without my cock," he started to unbutton his shirt, revealing his strong stomach. He felt the heavy weight of Bickslow's gaze. "You can find another to shove down your throat without any trouble. Although…" he put on a show of considering. "I do know just how to treat you. Just how rough you want it, and how hard you can take it. Will they, I wonder?"

With his free hand, he unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his hard leaking cock. Bickslow groaned at the sight of it, and Freed put on a show of casually stroking himself. Bickslow sucked his finger harder. As if that would help.

"But I know just what you need. How you need your head held so tight it hurts, how you need someone to rut and fuck your mouth like it's made for nothing else, how you need your hair pulled and your scalp scratched. I know you love the burn on your knees and the discomfort of having to lower your head. I know you need to be told just where you belong, and have someone to finally shut your damn mouth. I know what will make you spill on the floor without so much as a graze on your cute little cock," Freed smirked down at Bickslow, giving himself a slow tug on his cock. "But I'm sure someone else will fill the gap I'm leaving just as good."

Bickslow looked at him with such open desperation, that it was almost charming. It just made Freed stoke himself faster, steadfast in the knowledge that nobody could face fuck him like he could. That Bickslow would spend months desperate and needy and with no real pleasure coming for him. Denied what he wanted; what he craved each and every moment.

Yes, this would be fitting punishment indeed.

Fantasy flashes of Bickslow's growing desperation hit Freed. He would fuck who he pleased, have his dick sucked by the array of Adonis's that made up Fairy Tail, and Bickslow would get none of it. A hard cock, an empty mouth, and months of regret and dissatisfaction.

A final image, of Bickslow naked and begging and wanting nothing more than for Freed to pound his skull into a pillow, was all Freed needed. He lifted off the chair with a loud groan, rutting into his hand as cum shot again and again over his stomach and chest, sliding down the rigid lines of his muscles.

Bickslow watched with wrapped attention, no doubt wishing it was his mouth taking the full flood of Freed's cum. He stopped sucking, but kept his mouth wrapped tight around Freed's index finger. Freed rode the wave of his orgasm, falling back into his chair with a satisfied groan and a twitching, leaking cock.

He looked down at his toy, who looked up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. A hope Freed was delighted to kill. "Shouldn't you be sucking?"

Bickslow looked outraged, as if he thought Freed's orgasm would reveal a merciful side to him. Freed did nothing but push his finger deeper, and felt the gratifying sensation of Bickslow wrapping his clever, wonderful tongue in a perfect spiral, just as he had with Freed's cock many times before.

Ruining Bickslow's year, Freed decided, would be a damn delight.

Chapter Text

Day 6: Outdoor Sex & Humiliation

Freed x Laxus

Freed quickly shoved Laxus hard against the wall of the cathedral, the two of them lit by the partial light of the back alleyway. He pinned him there with his waist pressed to Laxus', and pulled him down for a searing kiss, which Laxus melted into, clearly needing exactly this to settle his mind.

It was his first time at the harvest festival since his return to the guild, and he had been distant for weeks. Freed understood why, but wouldn't put up with it. His dragon simply needed to reframe what the day, and indeed the festival, meant to them.

And what better reframing could there be that a good fuck up against a cathedral wall?

The fizzling of Freed's teleportation runes died away, and Freed made sure to kiss Laxus ragged as he realised where they were. He could feel the moment it happened, when he realised they were at the site of Laxus' greatest shame, and the epicentre of his attempted takeover. From this day forward, Freed would want Laxus to think of it as the place where he learned just how obedient he could be.

"Strip off," he ordered, taking a step back. "Everything."

Laxus gave a worried glance to the end of the alleyway, and to the sound of festivities and laughter that felt very close indeed. "Here?"

"Yes," Freed's voice left no room for argument, and with another worried glance, Laxus took the bottom of his shirt in hand. He pulled the snug fabric over his head, revealing his perfect, flexing torso. He looked at a loss of what to do with his shirt, and looked to Freed for answers. "On the ground, just drop it."

Resignedly, Laxus let one of his favourite shirts fall to the damp, dirty ground of the alleyway. He took a breath before kicking off his shoes, then tugging his socks off, knowing Freed mean it when he said everything. There was hesitation before he unbuckled his belt, but one firm, searing look from Freed told him they were going to be removed anyway, and he better not hesitate. He tugged them down with the force of a man on the edge of backing out, and took his boxers with him.

There he stood, naked and terrified and cock so hard it must have hurt. Exactly what Freed needed.

Christ, he was sexy too. His body was perfect in every conceivable way, from the thick girth of his long cock to the brilliant bulge of his thighs, to the cut of his waist to the deep, humiliated red flush all over his face. A perfect plaything, to fuck with and ruin and dismantle for his own pleasure.

Without speaking, Freed planted a hand on Laxus' firm, shivering chest and shoved him. Laxus grunted as his bare back was pushed against the coarse bricks. Would his ass be grazing the cold stone too? How would he handle it? Terribly, Freed hoped.

"It's funny, isn't it?" Freed taunted, affecting a sadistic lilt to his voice to make it clear they were truly in play now. "That you thought you deserved authority. You thought you wanted power. You thought you were a man, when you're nothing but a toy." He roamed his hands over Laxus' chest, slowly and gently, teasing needy breaths from him. "In actuality, Laxus, you're a lowly, insignificant, pliant bitch."

Laxus groaned, leaning back against the wall, face furious and blissed out all at once.

Taking advantage of the conflicted state, Freed took Laxus' nipple between his nails, and pinched hard. Laxus groaned, raising his hips in a slow thrust as if that would get Freed to touch him.

"Needy, simpering, and perverse," Freed hissed. "And you really thought people would kneel for you."

Maybe Laxus had something to say about that, or at the very least a little glare ready for Freed, but he wasn't allowed the time to express it. Freed roughly flipped him, shoving a hand on his back to push his chest into the brick. He took Laxus by the wrists, and pinned them high above his head, holding him tight and secure.

"Imagine what that man would say if he saw you now," he taunted. "Do you know what I think he'd do?" Laxus weakly shook his head no, and Freed was happy to tell him. "I think he'd beg to be next."

No need for warning, Freed slid a finger into the curve of Laxus' ass, casting a quick spell to lube it up as he did so. Laxus preened and moaned as Freed probed as deep as he could, curling his finger and stroking the spot that drove Laxus to madness. He relished the sight of Laxus grinding his forehead and pushing his ass out, ready and waiting for whatever Freed wanted of him.

Shifting Laxus so his wrists could be pinned with only one hand, Freed unbuckled his belt and pulled his cock out, hard and leaking and loving the open surrender his sub had gifted him. Laxus was lost to the moment – lost to the fantasy made real – and it was beautiful.

But he needed to be brought back to earth.

"Anyone could see this," Freed whispered. "Anyone could turn that corner and see the great Laxus Dreyar, stripped and bare." He pushed another finger in, and Laxus groaned like a damn pornstar. "You call yourself God, you ride the reputation of your power, and you probably terrified half the people out there." He pushed in a third finger and started to stretch him out. "What would they do if they saw you like this? Spit on you, just because they can. Maybe you'd ask them to. Maybe you'd like it."

Laxus just pushed his ass back further. He was so deep in the moment, he wouldn't move his hands, so Freed released his grasp. He put one firm, steadying hand on Laxus' waist, while the other held the base of his own dick and lined it up with the tight entrance of Laxus' hole.

No warning given, he forced his dick in deep. Laxus roared, the sound barely drowned out by the festivities. Freed tightened his grip, forcing Laxus not to buck back into him as he clearly wanted. He pushed as far as he could, right against Laxus' prostate that had his toes curling. He gave tint little juts of his hips, each movement pulling out a grunt.

"Ready, toy?"

"Yessir," Laxus slurred.

The fucking Freed gave Laxus was merciless. It was rough and fast, barely lubed and barely considered. Laxus was just a hole for him to get pleasure from. He didn't care for Laxus' pleasure. He didn't care for Laxus' comfort. He didn't care for Laxus' dignity. He cared about filling his ass with cum, and the searing pleasure that burned at his own dick.

And Laxus loved it. He bucked and moaned and tensed and pleaded. He shoved back against Freed, moaned like he could make no other sound, and squeezed ever so tightly to give Freed as much pleasure as he possibly could.

Fingers digging deep into Laxus' waist, Freed bucked and fucked like a wild animal. Deep and hard, fast and strong, brutal and ruinous. He felt acid spilling down his dick, burning his balls as an orgasm overtook his nerves. It was everything. Having Laxus like this, taking him so wonderfully with his whole beauty ready and open for the world to see, was all Freed's sadism had ever needed. The danger, the control, the dominance sung in his veins, and took him over the edge.

With a final, nasty thrust, he spilled into Laxus' ass. He rutted the orgasm out, relishing the tightness of Laxus' hole as he, too, spurted streams of cum. Laxus painted the wall, a final testament to their shameful show of lust.

"Where's your head at?" Freed asked moments later, dick back in his pants and chest heaving from exhaustion.

"Heaven," Laxus murmured, but his voice wasn't vacant like it could be.

"Laxus," Freed chided.

"I'm here," Laxus assured him, still leaning on the wall, his head resting on his forearms. "Feeling good."

"Good enough to continue playing?" Freed asked seriously.

"You got more for me?" Laxus asked with a cocky smile, one that Freed was going to destroy with glee. The answer may have been flippant, but Laxus knew better to lie about this. He wanted more, and given how brutal their play had been so far, Laxus wanted to be ruined further.

Freed knew exactly how to accomplish that.

"You came without permission," he said, gesturing to the spunk still sliding down the wall. "That's befitting punishment, don't you agree."

Laxus looked at his own cum, fidgeting with that nervous excitement he got when he was scared, but desperate to have his limits pushed. He was certainly going to get that.

"I guess so," Laxus eventually said. "You gonna spank me or something?"

"No, far too lenient," Freed said, casually walking to the heap of Laxus' discarded clothes. "Your punishment is a task. You will get home without using magic. If I find out you've used a single spell, I won't touch you for six months."

Laxus frowned. "Where's the punishment in that?"

"Oh I think you'll realise soon enough," Freed smiled pleasantly, then dissolved himself into runes, taking Laxus' clothes with him.

Laxus was left alone in the alleyway, mere feet away from the busiest day of the year in Magnolia. Freed, from his quiet little perch atop, watched the moment of realisation. He watched the dread, the horror, and the panic flood Laxus. He watched the realisation that he had been left with two choices; celibacy, or public humiliation. The warring emotions were evident on his face, and Freed drank them it.

He would give Laxus five minutes. If he didn't make a move by then, Freed would return his clothes and consider it a lesson learned.

But his dragon didn't let him down.

It barely took two minutes for Laxus to take a slow, shaky breath. He swallowed hard, looked ready to kill, and cupped his hands over his crotch in a slightly slumped posture. He walked to the end of the alleyway, looked ready to turn back and hide for longer, but forced himself out into the heavy crowds of the harvest festival.

Naked. Ashamed. Ass leaking. Red faced. Beautiful.

It was the hottest thing Freed had ever seen. He watched Laxus walk through the suddenly silent crowd, eyes on the ground, and towards the guildhall. He looked humiliated, but Freed knew his dragon. He could take this. Relish this. Own this.

Laxus had wanted his mind taken off the previous festival. This was what he got coming to a demon for help.

Chapter Text

Day 7: Chastity

Freed x Jet

"Enter," Freed said, standing to the side to let Jet into his playroom. "I think you know what I expect of you."

Jet rushed into the room with his typical slightly fidgety speed. He walked to the dead centre of the room, and began to strip off. His shirt went first, pulled over taut muscle and thrown to the side without care. His pseudo-skinny frame seemed to be shivering with anticipation, his nipples hard and abs contracting with every breath he took.

Next went his pants, which were kicked off to the side and joined the now growing pile. His legs were firm and muscled in a way a runner only could be, with a taut and plump ass filling out his boxers. Boxers that he took down with a quick swoop.

There is was; the cage that clunked and clicked over his dick.

Freed relished the sight of it. The chastity cage was, in a word, tiny. That was the beauty of long term chastity, you could make the cage incrementally smaller and smaller. This one was frankly pathetic, and Freed relished the sight of Jet's crushed and cramped dick trapped in the metal prison.

As Freed looked him up and down, Jet bounced a little on his feet in anticipation. He had more than enough reason to be jumpy; any self-respecting man would be on edge if they'd been caged like this for as long as Jet had been. That didn't make Freed any more inclined to speed the process up, though.

He closed the door, smirking a little when Jet seemed to realise it had been open as he stripped. In the earliest of their session, Jet had been shy and restrained, having to check the doors were locked shut and the curtains drawn tight, just in case. Now, after so long being denied and trapped in Freed's instruments of torture, his sense had left and the rush to pleasure was all he could feel.

It was funny, really. All this began with Jet wanting to learn a bit of impulse control at the hand of a true dominant.

"Position," Frees ordered, and Jet did it.

He laced his hands behind his head, and thrust his crotch out, leaning back at a curve. It was an uncomfortable pose, and just a little ridiculous too. Jet had hated it the first few times he'd done it. Now though, he rushed for it, so much so his caged cock still bounced with the aftershocks of movement.

Freed stood up to him. He ran a knuckle down his quivering torso, loving the tiny bend of Jet's knees at such a small touch. He placed a finger on the cool metal of the cage, fingers sliding between the ridges of the bars.

"May I rune you?" He asked.

"Yes sir."

Freed cast a quick rune, which forced Jet to only speak the truth. "How long have I caged you without authorised release, Jet?"

"One hundred and four days," Jet answered with a shiver.

"Which is…"

"About three and a half months, sir."

"Quite a long time," Freed grinned, taking a step back. "Now, over the past two weeks, how many times have you attempted to make yourself cum despite the cage?"

This was the game they were playing. A cage on a cock would stop a man getting hard, but they could still just about cum. Not pleasantly. Not satisfactorily. But they could. And Jet had, for the past three and a half months, always managed to make himself cum. Maybe he humped a pillow like an animal. Maybe he watched so much porn he forced on a wet dream. Maybe he found a guy to fuck him so hard he came untouched. Even caged, the desperate man managed to cum.

He hated it, of course. A caged orgasm brought no pleasure. It only made the victim hornier, but Jet never was all too good at regulation, and was always chasing the next failed high. It was why he was so fun to cage.

Jet took a slow breath. "I did."

Freed raised an eyebrow. He knew this day was coming, and felt oddly proud of his sub, but needed to be sure. "State it in detail, just so I can be sure."

"For the last two weeks, I haven't cum. I haven't had anything that could be considered an orgasm. I didn't try to do anything that would bring it on," he looked Freed dead in the eye. "I was good for you, sir, like you wanted."

The truth rune wouldn't have let him say any of that. Jet had been good. Freed stepped towards him again, cupped his chin and pulled him into a proud, rewarding kiss. He pushed their bodies together, Jet's nude shivering and yearning body against his clothed one. He pulled back just enough to grin. "You know what that means?"

"I get to cum."

"As many times and as many ways as you'd like."

Jet worse a splitting grin. "I want you on that chair you always sneer at me from, and I wanna ride ya."

Freed laughed, and stepped back so he could remove his clothes. He felt Jet's gaze on him hot and heavy as he stripped, and made a show of dropping his shirt and flexing just subtly enough to make it look accidentally. He slid off his belt with a snap and stepped out of his pants, taking his boxers with him. Jet practically drooled at the sight of Freed's cock as it grew to full hardness. Jet had never seen Freed naked before, as per their deal. He certainly seemed to enjoy the sight.

Turning his back on Jet, he walked to the chest that contained some of his toys. He removed both a tube of lube, and the key to the cage on Jet's cock. He turned, and grinned when it was obvious Jet had been checking out his ass. He walked to the armchair, sat and lounged on it, and started to lube up his cock.

"Come on man," Jet groaned. "You're teasing on purpose now!"

"I've been teasing on purpose since I first caged you," Freed laughed. "You think it's a coincidence I got a partially see through speedo the same summer I intended to drive you mad?"

"You asshole!" Jet exclaimed, and Freed gave him a look. "Sir!"

"You're needy; so I'll let that go," Freed said, stroking his cock slowly. He placed the lube to the side and crooked a finger to summon Jet. "If I stretch you out, will it make you cum?"

Jet thought for less than a second. "Yes sir."

"Then you'll take me without it," Frees said, taking the key and sliding it into the lock. He slid the restrictive bar out, and slowly slid the cage off of Jet's dick. It was red and ruined and lovely, and all it took was some slight manoeuvring to have it pointing hard and long at the ceiling. The cage had been so small, Freed had forgotten how hung Jet was. He spread his legs slightly and smiled. "Quickly now, Jet."

Jet needed no further permission. He climbed up on the chair and straddled Freed, hovering slightly as Freed held his dick steady and pointing up. Jet lowered himself slowly until he felt the thick head of Freed's dick against his hole. The moment he was sure they were aligned, he slammed his ass down, taking Freed in completely.

Freed's head shot back, vision blurring as ecstasy flooded him. He had always suspected Jet would be a wonderful cock slut, and the moaning and rutting paid testament to that. Jet mashed their foreheads together, and rode Freed like a beast. Up and down. Faster and faster. His firm ass squeezed and teased and engulfed him.

Jet's own orgasm was fast, and he shot so much cum over them both that they were painted with it. Jet's movements slowed and be panted, and he had the most handsome cum face Freed had ever seen.

"Ohh fuck," Jet whined, looking at his still half hard cock. He moved slightly, feeling Freed's cock still in him. "You didn't…"

"Not important," Freed said, clenching slightly through his blue balls. "Today is about you."

"I really get whatever I want?" Jet asked.

"You do."

Jet grinned a grin of a man with a plan.

The rest of the day followed suit, with Jet getting anything he wanted. He fucked Freed. He sucked Freed off as he jerked himself. He had Freed eat out his ass. He even bent over the balcony railing and had Freed take him rough and hard. Jet came again and again, emptying his balls in, and on Freed. Months of orgasms backed up, and were spent all over Freed.

They laid back on the padded floor, red from total exhaustion and totally wrecked. Jet was on Freed's chest, their shared cum sticking them together slightly.

"So," Freed panted. "Are you ready for the next stage of your chastity?"

Jet looked up slightly. "Next stage?"

"We can stop if you'd like, but I can push you," Freed grinned. "How would you feel about having to control yourself for a month, instead of two weeks?"

"A month?" Jet balked.

"Wearing the same cage you've had on for a while now," Freed explained. "Or, we could intensify in another way. You'd only need restraint for a week, but the cage would be different. Smaller. With teeth."

"It'll hurt?"

"Sometimes. If your cock is trying to get hard, it'll be agony."

Jet seemed to think. Freed gently stroked him as the sub considered his fate, before he looked up at his dom with a resolute and firm expression. "What if I wear the new cage for the whole month?"

Freed considered if. It should be tough, and it would hurt, and it would probably be too much. But Jet was Fairy Tail; and they could take on anything. "If I put it on you, and you back out on our agreed time period, I will punish you. Can you handle the risk?"

Jet gave him a dirty look. "Bring it on, Sir."

Chapter Text

Day 8: Webcam

Freed x Mard Geer

Of all the men Freed had kink sessions with, Mard Geer was the most dangerous, the most questionable, and certainly the most fascinating.

Everything about him was different, starting from how they begun their dynamic. Mard Geer had been sent to Fairy Tail for rehabilitation, which hasn't worked in the slightest. But an unkillable demon king could not be left alone, so Mard had been forced to either behave himself, or face eternal seclusion in a prison built especially for him. In his brief stint at Fairy Tail, Mard had seemingly been trying to be good, and it looked like it was driving him mad. Freed empathised. Every demon needed his vice, and Mard was denied anything close to one under threat of endless imprisonment.

So Freed had offered him his services. He had offered Mard a vice. While Freed typically was dominant in play, there were certain men who could make him kneel. Men who possessed a real danger to them. Men who would truly want to hurt him, just to make him moan. Men like Mard Geer.

Their sessions were few and far between, and allowed Mard to scratch that demonic itch of sadism that risked his freedom. He was brutal and twisted in a way Freed rarely got to enjoy, and Freed relished the warped torment Mard brought every time he darkened his door.

This, though, was different entirely.

In his years of near freedom, Mard had found solace in kink, and had communed with many subs and doms. He seemed to be the epicentre of a community of men who loved to watch other men squirm, and had decided today would be the day he utilised it against Freed. He had sent Freed a camera lacrima and a subtle headset, as well as a letter with an order. On this night, Freed would film himself live in the lacrima, following any instructions Mard gave him through the earpiece. The feed would be broadcast live to any man Mard wished to see it, and Freed would know nothing about them other than what they wrote in the live comment section.

It was a level of public dominance Freed would never put his own subs through, and that was exactly why Mard was the perfect dominant for him.

Minutes before the scheduled show, Freed stood in his playroom wearing nothing but black mesh boxers, as per Mard's request. He had set up lube, lotion, and a large dildo to use, and had slid in the earpiece. The lacrima was set pointing at him, and he waited for contact, heart hammering as submissive fear and adrenaline flooded him. Soon enough, the earpiece chimed, and Mard's voice came through it like honey.

"Are you prepared?" He asked.

"Yes, My King," Freed said, voice low and calm.

"You will do as you're told?"

"Yes, My King."

"And if you disobey?"

"You will punish me on camera."

"And how will I punish you?"

Freed took a slow breath. "Brutally."

"Correct;" Mard praised, tone like a knife to Freed's throat. "The broadcast will begin in a minute. Once it's started, you will obey until it is over under threat of punishment. Be good, demon, because I will be terrible to you if you let me down."

"I will, My King."

The camera made a small noise, and the lacrima came to life. A display was projected in the air for Freed to see, broadcasting him on his knees in the mesh boxers. A scrolling chat was next to the feed, with nameless users chatting about the upcoming show they were about to see. Freed read some of them, and felt oddly proud when he saw himself referred to as 'The King's most twisted slut.' He kneeled with his back a little straighter and looked directly down the camera, knowing Mard enough to know he wouldn't get a warning.

True enough, the display flashed 'LIVE' and suddenly the chat box was moving too fast to read anything. Freed remained on his knees looking down the lens of the camera, swallowing heavily. He didn't speak or move until permitted, and allowed Mard's invited viewers to get their fill. His cock hardened, rubbing against the tight mesh of his boxers.

"Take the lotion and cover your torso in it. Rub yourself thoroughly," Mard's voice was firm and left no room for argument.

Freed took the lotion and squirted a large amount into his hands. Still with his eyes trained on the camera and his heart nearly thudding out of his chest, he began to lacker his torso up so it shone. His muscles shifted and flexed as he moved, shining now under the lights of his playroom. He let out a shuddery breath as he slid over his nipples, then down the firm ridges of his abs. He ended with his arms, the firm lines of hard-earned muscles obvious now with the lotion.

He returned to his position, waiting until his king gave order. "Flex for the gentlemen."

Obediently, Freed did as he was told. He used various poses shamelessly, cock pulsing at the humiliating arrogance he was forced to display. His biceps bulged, his pecs bounced, and his abs contacted.

"Good. Now stand, lotion up your legs, then remove your boxers and lotion your cock. Put on a show. Don't you dare cum."

"Yes, My King," Freed whispered.

Again, Freed could do nothing but obey. He stood and the camera tilted to follow him. Slowly, he lotioned his legs enough that the muscles were obviously visible. Once they were done, he slid down his boxers and let his leaking cock bounce, before lubing it up with slow, teasing strokes.

He was putting on a performance, he realised, and doing so naturally.

"Stop!" Mard snapped, and Freed dropped his cock instantly. "On all fours, facing away from the camera. It's time to lube up your hole and stretch yourself out."

Freed wordlessly dropped to his hands and knees. As he reached for his lube, the lacrima's display shifted so it was in front of him. He sucked in a breath at what he saw. The feed was now in split screen, half showing him face on, half showing him from behind. He was going to finger himself on camera, live for faceless men, with both his ass and his face on display as he did it.

Truly, Freed could only submit to a man as cruel as Mard.

Reaching back, Freed pushed a lubed finger into his hole. He groaned at the intrusion, pushing back into it with a blissed-out expression that was reflected in the live feed. He pushed in another, knowing Mard would have said if he wanted him to go slow. This was a humiliating means to an end, and he looked up at the camera directly, watching at the chat flew by, catching praises and insults all aimed at him.

Once he was three fingers in, stretching and pulling his hole wide enough for the audience to see it, Mard's voice came back to him.

"Very good little demon," Mard purred. "Place that dildo on the floor. Spread your legs wide and hold yourself over it. Take it deep and fuck yourself with it. Use your left hand for balance and your right to stroke your dick. You do not cum until I say so. You go fast, and you do everything you can to reach an orgasm. You are not allowed to hold back, nor may you cum."

"Yes My King."

Freed positioned himself as Mard demanded, watching himself on the feed. The ten-inch dildo rested against his hole, and after a shaky breath took him, he forced himself down. In a flash, he took each and every inch of the unlubed toy, groaning in agony and ecstasy as it filled him so completely.

Forcefully, he raised his hips high enough to nearly disengage, before slamming down on it again. He went up and down. Faster and faster. He fucked himself on the huge toy, moaning and groaning and cursing as he was split open again and again. He stroked himself fast and viciously, toes curling and balls burning with a need to cum he couldn't meet. He was a show, not a man, and needed to act accordingly.

"There are three hundred and twenty-nine men watching you," Mard purred. "Watching you debase yourself and fuck yourself."

Freed groaned, "Fuck!"

"Laughing at you. Recording you. Sharing you. There are men who will only see you as the toy who fucked his ass for their anonymous pleasure," Mard taunted him, and his words were like a strike. "You could meet them and you'd never know. They'd be laughing in your face, knowing that you look like in your submission, and you'd never know. That doubt will be there for the rest of your life. Funny, isn't it?"

Freed moaned out instead of answering, throwing his head back as the toy pummelled his ass. "Please!"

"Please what little demon?"

"Please let me cum!"

"If I do, you'll regret it."

"I don't care. Please, Master. Please!"

"You may cum, little demon. At your own risk."

Freed ignored the warning. He pulled his cock in a long stroke and slammed his ass down on the toy, the dual sensation flashing stars in his vision as he came explosively. It covered his chest, his stomach, his face, and the floor around him. He panted as he rode out the orgasm, limbs shaking with sudden exhaustion.

"Remove the toy," Mard instructed. "There is a payment for your orgasm. Are you ready to hear it?"

Freed caught his breath before panting out, "Yes, My King."

"Every drop of cum you spilled on the floor, you will lick it up. You will do this on camera. And then, covered in your own seed after having debauched yourself, you will kneel, look down the camera, tell them your name, your guild, and to whom you kneel for."

Freed's stomach dropped; and horror filled him. The adrenaline of the session was already retreating, and now Mard wanted him to face the ultimate humiliation. But he couldn't deny his master. Not under the threat of a punishment that would be infinitely worse. Not when he was faced with the danger that set his blood on fire. Not when he wanted to be a good little demon.

Face flushed and limbs shaking from humiliation, he got on all fours and lowered his face to lick up his own bitter, salty cum. It tasted revolting and felt wrong, but he forced on. He had to, he had to be good.

Once the floor was clean of his seed, he knelt for the camera again, and forced himself to look down the lens. When he spoke, his voice was ruined and wrecked, exactly what Mard would want.

"My name is Freed Justine," he forced himself to say. "I am a professional mage of the guild Fairy Tail, and part of the team named Raijinshuu. I kneel for my demon king and master, Lord Mard Geer Tartaros."

There was a moment of stillness, where Freed had to sit in the confession. He felt sick for saying it, but his cock was back to full hardness.

A pleasant little sound came from the earphone to signify the end of the call, and the camera fell limp to show the end of livestream. Freed was left alone in his playroom, panting and ruined and humiliated. His muscles shook as he suddenly was faced with the overwhelming silence of the room; a room where normally he was god and dom and powerful. Yet Mard had owned him, and controlled him, and quite possibly ruined him in an insurmountable way.

Without thinking, he sat back. He raised his ass, reached for the dildo again, and started to stroke his cock to the memory of his humiliation. His soul preened and yearned, and as he always did after submitting to Mard, he was calm.

Chapter Text

Day 9: Exhibitionism

Freed x Rufus

"You understand how this is going to work?" Freed asked, stood shirtless outside of his playroom, hair tied back.

He stood in contrast to his plaything of the day, Rufus Lore. Rufus and he hadn't met before the day – despite the presses insistence that they were either bitter enemy or secret lovers – but even Freed could see he was nervous. Rufus was dressed in his full red ensemble, mask and ostentatious hat included. They both knew they wouldn't last long, though. Not with what Rufus wanted.

Rufus had been brought to Freed by Bickslow, after asking him if the rumours of Freed's kink centred lifestyle were true. Rufus had a fantasy he was desperate to have made real, and Bickslow has assured him Freed was the one to make it happen. Rufus was apparently new to acting on his kinks, and Freed had been happy to guide him through his first scene.

"Yes. Sir." He added the sir on as an afterthought, seemingly having forgotten. Freed wouldn't punish him for that. Not on their first scene, anyway.

"Talk me through it."

"We'll enter the playroom. You first. I walk to the centre of the room and stand with my hands clasped behind my back. You will strip off my clothes piece by piece," His voice wavered slightly. "T-then put my on my knees and have me suck your cock. I will swallow your cum."

"And while I'm doing that, what else will happen?"

Rufus swallowed. "The men you have invited will be watching me. They will be touching themselves. Once I have swallowed your cum they will crowd around me and…"

"And?"

"And they will cum all over me," Rufus whispered.

"They certainly will," Freed smiled, and gave Rufus' cheek a gentle stroke. "Are you ready?"

Rufus took a moment to consider. "Yes sir."

Freed nodded, and pushed open the door before Rufus had the time to back out. He walked to the centre of the room, Rufus trailing behind him. With the wall of mirrors, Freed could see Rufus had his chin held high and his posture looking confident.

He kept his eyes forward, not glancing at the twenty men that lined the walls of the room, all wearing masks, crotch-less leather pants, and bondage harnesses. They were all either subs Freed worked with regularly, or gentle doms who Freed could trust. Some were Fairy Tail mages, others were simply friends. Their faces were all obscured and without identity, making them a faceless mass of men here to watch Rufus and find pleasure in the show.

Once Rufus was in potion, the men made a circle around him with enough space for Freed to walk around him freely, and for Rufus not to feel crowded in. The only gap in the circle was the old dressmaker's mannequin, where Rufus' clothes would end up.

Freed stepped into Rufus' space, and wordlessly removed the large hat from his head. Rufus let out a little gasp, no doubt experiencing the hit that came with a fantasy finally being made real.

"Fuck," Rufus whispered, and Freed had felt that exact feeling the first time he whipped a man.

He let Rufus fester in the moment and took his time placing the hat on the mannequin, before turning back to Rufus. He unlaced the mask and slid it off his face, revealing his pretty features to the room at large. Some of the men started stroking their exposed cocks, and Freed caught Rufus watching the movement of a particularly large cock being stroked as he placed the mask on the mannequin.

Next, Freed went to one knee before Rufus and unlaced his boots, sliding them off one by one. He took his socks too, watching as Rufus nervously clenched his toes. More men started stroking now, and Rufus' nerves were electric.

Once the boots were in proper place, Freed unbuttoned Rufus' red jacket and slid it off his shoulders. He watched as Rufus rolled his shoulders back, just for movements sake it seemed, though his eyes kept snagging on the fat cock that had first caught his attention. Did he somehow know who it belonged to, Freed wondered? It would be almost cute if he did.

The coat sat on the mannequin, Freed returned to Rufus and unbuttoned his shirt slowly. He slid the sleeves down Rufus' arms all at once, just to tease the possibility of having his arms restrained. The little gasp he let out suggested he liked it. He would remember that.

Finally, Freed brought his hands to Rufus' pants. He undid the button and began to pull them down, stopping when he realised something. Perhaps Rufus hadn't been so nervous as he was letting on, because he'd chosen to forgo wearing any kind of underwear. Freed caught Rufus' gaze and gave him a little grin, and Rufus blushed. Freed didn't torment him further, and instead pulled Rufus' pants down, leaving him standing naked and hard and beautiful in a room of men stroking their dicks, wishing for nothing more than to devour him

"Kneel for me, Rufus."

The use of his name in a gentle order has Rufus' back snapping straight. He got on both knees slowly, looking up at Freed as he approached. He dragged his eyes from the fat cock that had him entranced and watched as Freed unzipped his fly and removed his own dick, stroking it to full hardness.

"You're doing so well for me, Rufus," Freed praised, taking Rufus' face in his hands and cradling it.

He stroked a thumb over Rufus' lips and parted them, with Rufus letting his jaw drop in obedience. Freed took a final step closer, sliding his dick between Rufus' lips. Rufus wrapped them tight, tongue probing at Freed's cock like a seasoned pro. He'd sucked cock before, that was obvious, so Freed laced his hands in silky hair, and made Rufus take in every inch of him.

Rufus was in charge of the blow job though. He took Freed deep, bobbed his head with just the right pace, and utilised his throat in a way very few men could. He probably looked resplendent on his knees with his mouth wrapped tight, but Freed couldn't care less in that moment. He righted his grasp on Rufus' hair, held him close and started to thrust into him with an inelegance he shouldn't be showing in the scene. But a mouth this good was a rare treat, and the needy moans muffled by his cock were enough encouragement to keep him going.

With a grunt and a rush, Freed's head fell back as pleasure overtook himself. He came quick and fast, the breath leaving him just as ferociously as his cum as he filled Rufus' mouth. Rufus drank every drop, and Freed smiled down at him, almost proud.

"Are you ready for the next stage?"

Rufus nodded, "Yes sir."

Freed stood back and gestured to the room at large. There was a thickness to it now, heavy with sweat and sex and desire. The men all seemed to move on instinct, stepping close to Rufus and crowding around him. Freed heard a slight moan from the centre, and knew the new sub would be fine as he was showered with cum.

He found a place to watch as men after men jerked their thick cocks fast and inelegantly, spurting heavy loads of cum all over Rufus. His hair was matted, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes wide with wild desire. He too stroked his own cock, his lightly muscles body glinting and flexing under the loads that landed on him.

One man took the place before Rufus. It was the man with the huge cock that had so hypnotised him before. Freed watched with wrapped attention as Rufus looked up at the masked man, opening his mouth to have cum spent on his tongue. He jerked his cock faster and faster, and Freed saw a smirk on the masked man's face as he marched the pace of his kneeling sub.

Seemingly in tandem, they both groaned out an orgasm. Rufus spurt on the man's shoes, body shivering and eyes trained steadfast on the man before him. The man made sure to cover Rufus' face entirely with his spunk, getting shots onto his tongue which Rufus dutifully swallowed.

Man after man came over Rufus, before stepping back. Once every man had his fill, Rufus was left alone, naked and covered and breathing like he'd ran a marathon. He looked around, a little lost, so Freed stepped up.

"Leave please, gentlemen," Freed instructed, and the masked men walked towards the door, filing out as Freed crouched down. He cupped Rufus' cum covered face and smiled a friendly smile. Once they were alone, Freed relaxed his posture over. "Scene's over, darling. How was it?"

Rufus seemed to relax too. "I think you might have ruined me for other men."

"Perhaps most of them. I'm sure there's someone who can… match up to the experience."

"Maybe," Rufus said, but he didn't sound sure. Freed stood up and helped Rufus to his feet. Rufus didn't move to wipe any of the cum off of him, and his cock was still half hard. Good. "The, erm, the men who were in here. Do I get to know who they are?"

He wanted one man in particular; Freed was almost sure. "I'm afraid not. Even if you guess their identity, I can't confirm it." Rufus had a flash of sadness, and since he'd taken his treatment so well, Freed gave him a little hint. "I do think it's only fair to tell you, a member of your guild was here though."

Rufus blanched. "Really?"

"The man who came on your tongue, actually," Freed said casually, knowing full well what would happen next. "Not that I can confirm who they were. Now, time to shower, yes?"

He guided Rufus to the shower room, grinning as he watched Rufus' mind working. The man who had cum on his tongue was large, hung, and could only be one man from Sabertooth. Freed had a front row seat as Rufus realised, he had been entranced by, and came on, by Orga Nanagear, who know knew and had been part of his ultimate fantasy.

As the shower room door closed, Freed amused himself with how Rufus might deal with this. Deny it. Pretend it didn't happen. Maybe distance himself from Orga as if that would fix things.

But Freed hoped that wouldn't happen.

He hoped that either Rufus would have been set alight by the realising of his kink, and would kneel for Orga again. Or maybe Orga, the gentle dom Freed had teamed up with once, would finally grow a pair and claimed the sub he loved.

Chapter Text

Day 10: Punishment

Freed x Laxus

When playing with Laxus, Freed found the most satisfaction in making him lose control. Making him angry and needy and far beyond his better senses. He'd long since figured out how to make his dragon a different man when they were in play, and relished every insult, demand and plead he could get. But there were rules, and limit, and behaviour that were unacceptable from even Freed's most treasured submissive.

Spitting his magic at him in a bratty demand to be fucked harder certainly fell into that.

They had both known Laxus would need punishment, but Freed chose to let him stew for a few days. Time allowed him to think of the perfect way to correct this behaviour and stop it from happening again. Unplanned magic in a scene was not allowed, and Freed needed to make that clear.

He'd settled on an idea as vicious as it was loaded. He went back to basics. Whips, chains, gags and brutality. He would put Laxus in his place, hurt him to make a point, and all while only using the most basic of toys.

"Strip," He said, voice firm and displeased. Laxus knew better than to argue, and began removing his clothes.

As Laxus stripped, Freed made a show of sliding thick, heavy chains over one of the many wracks on the ceiling. The metal was heavy and loud, intentionally so, and ended with four manacle cuffs. Freed let his eyes flicker over Laxus' nude, muscled, soft-cocked body for a moment before jerking his head on silent instruction. Laxus followed the order, standing beneath the chains. He winced and tensed at the clunking of metal near his ears – as well he might – but stood still as Freed locked the cuffs around his wrists and his ankles.

Once Laxus was properly bound, Freed began to pull on the chains again. They yanked Laxus' arms behind his back, rising further and further and forcing him to bend at the waist to avoid injury. Once he was in a position that would he uncomfortable but not impossible to hold, Freed locked the chains in place and looked at his sub.

His cock was still soft. Good. The punishment shouldn't be dampened by arousal.

Freed usually spoke with Laxus as they were in play, but not today. Instead, he was silent as he reached for a simple bit-gag, which he pushed into Laxus' mouth and pulled tight around his head. He was none too gentle as he did it, and found himself gratified by the gag Laxus tried to force out.

Still wordless, he walked to the small bench set up on the side of the room, and picked up a riding crop. Simple, black, metal tipped and with good grip. It was standard, but vicious. Usually, he would show his sub the weapon before using it, but not today.

Whip!

The sound of the crop flying through the air was all Laxus got for warning, before splitting pain stuck his bare ass. He groaned, stumbling forward and pulling harder on the chains. Freed simply struck him again, pushing him further forward and drawing out a shout from both the whip and the pull of chains.

Again and again, he struck Laxus' bare ass with the crop.

Red welts arose, nasty and beautiful in their brutality. They'd bruise over resplendently and, if Freed had his way, Laxus wouldn't be able to sit comfortable for a week.

Only when Laxus was clearly struggling to stand did Freed stop his relentless assault. He placed the crop back on the table, helped Laxus back to a better position, and ran a raised hand down Laxus' ass. The shiver and muffled yell of pain was testimony to how Freed hadn't held back; and Laxus would be feeling this for a good long time.

He returned to the bench of toys, and picked up a beautiful cat 'o nine tails he rarely got chance to use. He pulled the chains slack slightly, and allowed Laxus to stand straight with his hands above his head, helplessly vulnerable.

When he caught sight of the 'nine tails, his breath hitched through the gag.

Wonderful.

With a trained wrist, Freed cracked the toy through the air and hit Laxus on his stomach. Laxus groaned and fidgeted as well as he could, skin reddening already. That only spurred Freed on, and he struck Laxus again, on his chest this time.

Relentless and fast, Freed struck Laxus again and again. He alternated between his chest and his abs, never giving him enough time to recover before the next hit. Laxus thrashed and roared through his gag, trying and failing to shy away from his punishment. The chains didn't let him, and Freed only saw the attempted resistance as further proof that Laxus needed his punishment to be as cruel as Freed would allows himself.

Once Laxus' stomach had a wonderful red glow from the beating, Freed dropped the tool and stood in Laxus' space. He ran his hands over the hard, cut ridges of Laxus' abs, relishing the tears pricking in his eyes. He was close, and just needed one little push to really start crying.

He punched Laxus in the gut as hard as he could, watching as Laxus' eyes blew wide and he fell as much as his chains allowed him.

As his disobedient toy coughed and groaned, Freed returned to the bench and picked his third and final object of torture. The most brutal of the lot, and something he had never used on Laxus before. He typically saved it for his subs who truly demanded the most intense pain, but Laxus' use of magic had been unacceptable. It had been a powerful spell, one that could have knocked Freed out or disoriented him to the point of not being able to end the scene safely, and as such Laxus needed overwhelming correction.

Laxus froze as he saw what Freed was holding. A cane. Gnarled, knotted and cruel.

Freed adjusted Laxus' posture again, spreading his legs and roaring his arms so they were before him. He linked his two wrist cuffs together so they could not be separated, and stepped behind Laxus so that he was out of sight and had an uninhibited view of Laxus' large, bunched together back.

"You'll get ten strikes," Freed explained. "Safe word is three clicks. Click for me." Laxus clicked his fingers once. "Good."

Freed stood in position, and rested the cane gently on Laxus' lower back, exactly where he would strike him. He let the cane tickle at Laxus' nerves and leave him panting before it even happened, before retracting and striking with split second brutality.

Laxus sobbed and chocked. Freed didn't enjoy it, but his sub needed to learn.

Once he had begun, he didn't stop. Each strike was exactly an inch higher and the previous, and the rising bruises and welts that came with each well landed hit were wonderful. Laxus' thighs shook as he tried to keep himself up, tears were streaming down his face uninhibited, and his breathing was coming quick and fast. He looked like agony personified, and it was exactly what Freed wanted.

The final strike was the toughest of the lot. He broke the pattern, lowered his sweep, and cracked the cane on Laxus' already brutalises ass. Laxus roared, body lurching and chains stretching as he thrashed and moaned and cried. He was a beast to the pain, in that moment, and was resplendent in it.

His cock was still soft, too.

Magnificent.

He let Laxus ride out the aftershocks of the torment, before reaching up and sliding a key into the right cuff, then the left. He held Laxus' wrists and slowly lowered his arms to his side, cautious enough for the movement not to be too quick. Next, he dropped to one knee and unlocked the cuffs around Laxus' ankles, and rubbed the circulation back through the previously trapped areas. Finally, he removed the gag, wiping drool from around Laxus' face with a tissue. Laxus said nothing, looking at Freed with wide, tearful eyes.

"You deserved this," Freed said plainly.

"I did," Laxus croaked out, voice weak.

"You'll remain here and take the pain for as long as it takes for you to realise how wrong your little stunt could have gone. No matter how long that takes, you are to remain in this room. Only once you're fully aware of the danger you put yourself in can you leave," Freed cupped a hand on Laxus' cheek. "One you're finished, come to the bedroom and I'll tend to you. Understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Good boy," Freed praised, and walked out. Laxus remained, whipped and shaking and exactly as he should be. His cock was still soft, and he was left with a new respect – and dare he say it, love - for his master, sadist and dominant, as well as the bone deep certainty that he would never break a rule again.

Chapter Text

Day 11: Handcuffs

Freed x Gray

"Oh, seriously?" Gray groaned when he saw what Freed had picked up. "You're so petty sometimes."

"I've no idea what you mean," Freed lied as he approached Gray, two pairs of handcuffs clinking against his thigh as he did so.

Gray was sitting in a small, armed chair, naked as ever and with his cock pointing long and hard at the ceiling of Freed's playroom. Gray was not the kinkiest of men, and came to Freed sporadically, typically whenever he wanted his dick sucked or his ass pounded without the need for further discussion. He sometimes indulged in kink of a gentler sort, and today had asked for something a little more interesting. He let Freed choose just how that would go, and Freed would make him regret it.

Despite being a conscientious and responsible dominant, Freed did have a petty side. He'd had the vague concept of enacting this revenge for a few months now, should Gray ever give him the perfect scenario to do it. Today was that day; and he would relish it.

"Liar," Gray accused, but rested his hands on the armrests so that Freed could cuff them in place. "You really still bitter about that?"

"About what?" Freed deflected, casually cuffing them tight enough that they'd just chafe.

"Me beating your ass," Gray grinned, and Freed grasped his cheeks to stop him from speaking.

"You've such a pretty face, Gray. Don't make me ruin it with a gag."

Gray didn't say anything when Freed released him, but still looked smug. Just over a month prior, a guild wide training event had taken place, and Gray apparently had a new trick which he used on Freed. Ice Make: Handcuffs. They'd been tight, cold, and had allowed Gray to showboat at Freed's expense. Apparently, he remembered it as clearly as Freed did, but that was fine. Freed knew how to wipe a smile off a man's face.

"So what's this gonna be?" Gray asked, shifting so he could get comfortable. "You jerk me off, maybe suck me, but keep me on the edge for an hour or something?"

"Close: but a little optimistic in the time frame," Freed said as he stepped back and appreciated his trapped, cuffed boy. "You're here until sundown."

Gray blinked. "It's nine AM."

"It is, isn't it?" Freed smiled, and started to remove his clothes. "You're a little wrong about the ways in which I'll enjoy you, too. There will be edging, of course, but I hardly see the need to restrain myself from cumming. Not when I have such a pretty target trapped for me."

"Seriously?" Gray groaned.

"Yes."

"So just 'cause I beat you in a fight I gotta be your cum rag while you give me blue balls for hour-errs," Gray's voice slurred when Freed, naked bar his boxer briefs, went to his knees between Gray's thighs and sucked his dick to the base in a quick, hot movement. The tip of his tongue probed the slit of Gray's dick, before he let it side down his needy length. Gray threw his head back in a groan, before slurring out, "You got new tricks, huh?"

"Not at all; I've always been able to do this. I just don't like you enough to use my best work on you," Freed grinned.

"Oh I'm gonna kick your ass all over ag-aghh!" Gray groaned as Freed took him to the root again, swallowing firm and tormenting him with his throat. Gray never jerked off – or so he claimed – and much preferred the hand, mouth, or ass of another, so whenever he came to Freed's playroom, he was already quite pent up. Today would be fun.

He bobbed his head up and down, taking Gray in with practiced ease. He sucked the tip, played with Gray's balls just gently enough for it to feel like a tease, before taking Gray in his mouth fully and sucking down three long swallows.

His needy toy nearly came from that alone, and bucked his hips wildly. Freed couldn't allow that.

"I think more restraints are becoming necessary," Freed said, affecting a casual voice as he stepped back, drinking in Gray's needy moan of displeasure.

He went to his bondage chest and pulled out a set of thigh cuffs, which would keep Gray from bucking up again without Freed's permission. He let Gray see them, enjoyed the irritated huff Gray let out, then got to work wrapping the leather bands tight around Gray's thighs. He snapped the chain around the legs of the chair, and adjusted the cuffs so that Gray was afforded no room to move his legs at all.

Satisfied with how bound his plaything was, he cupped Gray's cheek before giving him a gentle slap across the face. Gray instinctively went to move, but the handcuffs wouldn't allow him to. Freed laughed gently at him.

"You're so pretty. Even prettier when you're cumming, Fullbuster," he praised. "It's a shame I'm so – what was it you called me? – petty."

Freed hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers and slid them off, watching Gray as Gray watched him back. Freed was hung, and had an inch on Gray as well as some girth, and Gray always liked seeing Freed stripped completely. Freed would give him exactly what he wanted.

Well balanced and athletic, Freed all but leapt. One foot was placed in the space between Gray's thighs – just close enough to his balls to have Gray wincing – while the other rested on the arm of the chair. Gray looked up at him with an unimpressed expression, which might have been convincing if his eyes weren't flicking all over Freed from the new vantage point.

"You once said I was statuesque," Freed teased. "I think it's time you admired me, no?"

"You realise from this angle I could headbutt your balls?"

"And I could cut yours off with my sword. See; we can both make hollow threats."

Freed silenced whatever retort Gray might have by taking his own cock in hand and stroking it with slow but intentioned movements. He allowed himself to relish the glide of his own hand against the hot flesh, eyes closed as the familiar pleasure of his own hand rolled up his spine. His balls swung with the movement, slow and steady, and Freed relished the feeling of them hitting his thighs.

Gray would hate this. He would hate there was a cock being tended to while his own leaked and quivered, slapping against his perfect abs. He would be furious, and in his own head. He would be fantasising about Freed touching him. About him getting the easy orgasm he had expected when he had come to the playroom.

Tough shit.

When Freed opened his eyes, Gray was glaring up at him, chest rising and falling fast with his short breaths. His cock laid hard against Freed's foot, leaking slightly as his eyes tracked every little thrust Freed made as he started to pound his fist.

He sped up, one hand grasp Gray's hair, and started to jerk his cock faster. He let the moans and groans that came with a skilled hand fly freely, moving his foot just enough to graze against the needy head of Gray's cock. Gray glared and his breaths went even faster, handsome face looking wrecked and angry and beautiful.

Fuck, how resplendently ruined would Gray look when Freed released him?

The fantasy of it – of Gray on the edge of sanity and fury and wanting to kill Freed and fuck him in equal measure – drove Freed wild. He would get that. He would get his revenge. He would ruin Gray and make him mad with edges and denied lust.

With a long moan, Freed felt the orgasm riding through him. He aimed his cock right at Gray's face, shooting a load of cum right at him. Then he aimed lower: painting Gray's abs with hot white seed. Gray leant back, groaning in dissatisfaction as the salty taste of spunk slid between his lips. Freed shot on Gray's face again, then his hair, then finished over his lap. He was a mess, and Freed loved it.

"Well," Freed said with a bit of a pant. "Ten minutes have gone, a little over eleven hours left."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Gray groaned, looking down at his needy cock.

"Safe word or obey, there are no other options," Freed shrugged; and after a stagnant moment Gray made his choice by looking to the side and saying nothing. "Good boy. Now, I'm going to leave you here for a while, let that cum really crust up, so don't go anywhere," Freed laughed to himself. "Ill only be out of the house for a short while."

"You're leaving me like this!"

"Ten minutes at the most. I just need to help Natsu find his way; you know how he is with directions."

"Natsu!"

"Oh, didn't I tell you. He's going to fuck me in front of you," and there was that pretty fury Freed wanted. The same fury Freed had felt after training fight. "He was quite enthusiastic. I wonder why."

"You're kidding. You're gonna take that flamebrain in your ass over me!"

"Of course. He's a better fuck than you."

Gray all but snarled at that, pulling against his cuffs as Freed walked away. Freed grinned and shut the door, leaving Gray on his own, his chain clanking and his cock leaking as he tried to tell Freed just how wrong he was.

He thought over the details of Gray's requested roleplay, which contained the intricacies of the fantasy he was currently indulging in. Long term bondage, being cummed on, denial, edging, and Natsu. It was a simple, lovely fantasy, and Freed had enjoyed the role play. He would enjoy being fucked by Natsu while Gray could only watch even more. Angry and flushed and desperate to prove himself but unable to do anything but rage.

Gray was a proud man, and there was nothing better than crushing a proud man under the weight of one of his most desired fantasies made real. Even better with the use of handcuffs.

Chapter Text

Day 12: Kneeling

Freed x Natsu

As he casually flipped to the next chapter, Freed spared Natsu a short glance, and wondered what Natsu thought of his predicament.

He probably thought Freed wasn't really reading, and that the occasional turning of a page was just an act to further put Natsu in his place. Maybe he thought that Freed would be unable to concentrate on his book, or anything other than what he was doing to Natsu. He likely thought that Natsu, in the state that Freed had positioned him into, would be far too all-encompassing to do anything but lust over.

If Natsu thought any of those, he clearly didn't understand the lure of a good book.

Though, even with a book as good as the one Freed was reading, Natsu was distracting when all he wore was a leather cross across his chest and a black mesh jockstrap. More distracting still when all he did was kneel at Freed's feet.

After their first foray into the world of discipline based kink, Natsu had been keen for more. He claimed Freed had this 'dickhead professor who just wants to spread you open kinda vibe' that, for whatever reason, Natsu was really drawn to. He all but begged for Freed to come up with a scenario where he taught Natsu a lesson, and Freed was never one to be stoic in the face of a begging man. Especially when the aforementioned man was naked, cum drunk and ever so pretty.

So Freed had decided he would further test Natsu's ability to be patient. He would simply have Natsu kneel for him while he read. He was in the latter quarter of a wonderful novel, and once he was done he would either pleasure the man beautifully, or perhaps be rough with him. It really depended on how much he liked the ending.

"Hm," Natsu let out a pitiful whine, and Freed smiled.

It was nice to know the little twist was working as intended.

Dominating a man like Natsu had its difficulties. He was tough, reliant, and used to pain. So Freed had to adapt to the higher threshold of discomfort and pain, and he'd found a rather ingenious way to do it. He didn't have Natsu kneeling on the wonderfully padded floors of the playroom. No. Freed had taken an axe to one of the older trees of the forest, torn off a sheet of bark, and had Natsu kneeling on that.

He squirmed and shifted so obediently and so often that his knees must be in agony. But he didn't safe word. He didn't even take the five-minute reprieve Freed had said he could have if it got to be too much, but he didn't want to stop altogether. He just kneeled there in pain, watching as Freed read.

Honestly, Freed was still a little shocked that Natsu wasn't a brat. He had every hallmark of a bratty little sub who needed to be spanked into submission. But no, he was obedient to a fault. Like a loyal little pup. Freed would get him a pup mask; he'd look spectacular in rubber and leather.

His obedience, along with the alluring wet stain on Natsu's jockstrap, deserved a treat.

Freed changed his sitting position, crossing his legs. He'd stripped off completely before he'd begun to read, and didn't pretend the heavy gaze Natsu kept on him wasn't immensely attractive. His cock remained at a respectable half hard, and he'd not once intentionally hidden sight of it from Natsu. The moments he looked away from the page, Natsu was always checking him out.

His pup was a cock slut, too. Freed loved a man who knew what he wanted.

As he shifted position, Freed let his toes graze the fabric of Natsu's jock, gliding across the hard, bulging cock it was struggling to contain. Natsu groaned, his posture slipped to a near waist bend, before he forced himself to return to straight back. Freed grazed a toe up Natsu's abs in a silent reward.

Two chapters later – and one realisation that the book was indeed going with the twist Freed had predicted from the beginning – Freed decided he needed some tea. He'd set a small table up in the corner of the room, with self heating runes to regulate the temperature. Through the back wall of mirrors, Freed could see as Natsu watched him, eyes trained on the firm plumpness of Freed's ass. Not just a cock slut, then. That would be fun to utilise.

He poured himself a cup of tea, put on a bit of a show of clinking the spoon against the china, and returned to his armchair. He pulled out a chilled water bottle from behind the leg, uncapped it, and held it to Natsu's lips.

"Do you know how long you've been kneeling?" Freed asked, speaking to him for the first time since he'd started reading.

"No, sir," Natsu said after removing himself from the bottle.

"Just over an hour. I would have put money on you not making it this long."

"That mean I get something for being good?" Natsu asked with a grin, cheeky little pup.

"I'm not quite that impressed, but I'll admit I'm close," Freed said, stroking a hair through Natsu's shockingly silky hair. Natsu all but pushed into it, and he really wasn't dissuading the notion he was a puppy boy in the making. "How about this. You tell me how it feels to be kneeling like this, and if I'm happy with it, you'll get what you want."

"Yeah. Great. Sir."

"Ah. Not like that," Freed stopped him. "Be yourself. I want to know what you, Natsu Dragneel - the man I've known for years – thinks about having to kneel like this for me. No playing a role, and no telling me what I want to hear. Be yourself."

"Myself?" Natsu asked, slowly, as if he didn't believe Freed. But Freed nodded, so Natsu took a moment. "It hurts like hell, man. You kidding me? I'm kneeling on a piece of crappy old wood. My knees are dying. And I'm wearing this leather cross thing that's not tight enough to hurt, which is pissing me off, and this jockstrap must be like three sizes too small 'cause it's crushing stuff and chafing like a bitch. And you're not even paying me any attention. It sucks. I keep wanting that book to fall and give you a nasty paper cut on your dick just so you know what it's-"

Freed quietened his pup with a kiss, slow and tender. Natsu melted into it, like Freed knew he would, and whined when Freed pulled away. His cheeks were pink and spit trailed between them before falling to the ground. Natsu shifted again, and winced as his knees were grazed more.

"Is that my reward? Because honestly, if you keep doin' it, I'm good with that."

"No. That was my reward for being so patient with you," Freed said, standing up now, right in front of Natsu. The kiss had plumped his cock to full hardness, and he gave it a stroke to draw out a dribble of pre cum. Natsu watched as it fell to the floor, before looking back up at Freed. "This is your reward."

With two strong hands on the back of Natsu's head, Freed stepped forward and all but shoved his dick into Natsu's mouth. Natsu groaned, and the vibrations had Freed arching his back as a moan of pleasure slipped free. He held Natsu tight, forcing him to take and hold every inch of him.

Natsu would have no complaints. Nobody sucked cock like him.

But Freed afforded him no control. With his grasp on Natsu's head unwavering, he began to hammer into him fast and relentless. He jackhammered into him, the brutal heat sending shivers throughout Freed with each cruel thrust. He cared little for how much Natsu could take, and knew that his partner relished the objectification. In this room, a good pup did as his master demanded, and right now all Freed demanded was that Natsu take him as hard and as fast as he wanted.

Over the jockstrap, Natsu was jerking himself off with a pace matching Freed's thrusts. Each stroke and hump and thrust drove them both wild, and Freed pulled on Natsu's hair. His muscles rippled as he put all his energy into wrecking Natsu's mouth.

Wetness hit his leg, and it took a lagging moment for Freed to realise Natsu had cum, and shot so hard it had breached the mesh of his jockstrap. The fact Natsu had been so turned on that he could achieve such a feat, and had done so while still kneeling on agonised knees, drove Freed to distraction.

With a roar and a deep thrust, he plugged Natsu's mouth one final time and flooded him with spunk. It slid down the sides of Natsu's mouth as he tried valiantly to swallow it all, and each suck had Freed pulsing out more.

This was perfection. To have a beast of a man on his knees, desperate and pained and wanting nothing more than to submit to Freed's twisted games. For Freed, Natsu kneeled.

Once he was done, and had spilled completely down Natsu's throat, he pulled out. A spit trail lingered just as it had when they kissed, and for a moment they looked at each other in silence.

"Now," Freed said breathlessly. "I think it's time I finish my book, don't you?"

Natsu, obedient little pup that he was, only nodded, and kept on kneeling.

Chapter Text

Day 13: Dildos

Freed x Loke

Loke was many things. A celestial spirit. A flirt. A powerful mage. A model. A pretty boy.

But, most importantly to the situation, he was a vein little fuck boy who wanted nothing more than to be watched. And while Freed liked to get his hands dirty, and really put his subs through whatever physical heaven and hell that they may yearn for, Freed could watch. With a show this good, watching was a damn pleasure.

Loke kneeled on the padded floor, tight little body shivering in the coolness of Freed's playroom. Gentle music of Loke's choosing played through the speaker system – almost quiet enough to not be heard, but it added a layer of sensuality to the moment – as he squirted lube over the larger of the two dildos Freed had prepared for him. He stroked his hand up and down the thick silicone girth of the thing, fingers jutting over the bulbous ridges that would split apart a weaker man.

He looked up at Freed as he prepped the toy, eyes heavy and loaded with lust. Freed just looked back down at him, giving him all he needed. Loke just needed to be watched. To be lusted after. To be desired and appreciated. But not touched.

Freed himself slowly pumped his cock at a languishing pace. Not to get himself off. Not to feel good. But to give his sub what he needed. Pure, unadulterated, obvious evidence that his sexy, muscled, perfect body was turning Freed on so madly he couldn't stop himself from seeking pleasure.

"Damn," Loke whispered, probably not realising he even said it. Freed didn't respond.

Once the bigger toy was lubed up and shining – and once Freed had imagined how good it would feel to have Loke's deft, delicate hands on his own cock in such a way – Loke moved to the next dildo. This was shorter, and a little thinner, but by no means anything other than a monster of a toy. He placed it on the ground, using the suction cup to keep it in place, then got on all fours before it. He looked up at Freed with dirty eyes, lowered his head, and licked.

Fuck, Loke was hot.

He spread his tongue wide on the shaft of the toy, right at the base next to the silicon balls, and slowly licked his way up fake veins. His handsome, teasing face had Freed enchanted, and not for the first time during their sessions, Freed wanted to throw the toy away and fuck Loke's mouth. But all he could do was watch the little lion put on a show.

Once he was at the tip of the dildo, he wrapped his lips around the head with a tight seal. He sucked on it, his cheeks hollowing slightly as he swallowed like it were a real dick. He arched his back, his plump rear high in the air and perfectly fuckable, if only Freed could.

Still stroking his cock, he circled Loke so he could see him from all angles. His firm ass, his muscled thighs, his golden hair, and his sinful eyes. A seductive master, performing for Freed and Freed alone.

"You're beautiful," Freed gasped out, having to release his dick before the urge to stroke himself with intention became too much.

For as long as Freed held himself back from cumming, Loke would keep on performing. It was a deal that had paid dividends many times. Loke would keep going for hours, covering himself in his own cum, playing with the toys that most of his subs shied away from, and totally wrecking any sense of elegance he normally had. He would be ragged, exhausted, and debauched, but he wouldn't stop as long as he had a captive audience with Freed.

Many times, Freed had taken advantage of that, and used Loke for his own denied pleasure. But not today. Something about today told Freed that this would be a short show. Something about the pleasure and need in Loke's eyes. The way he sucked the toy. The way he presented himself. Loke wanted to drive Freed mad, and it was working.

With a deep lunge, Loke took all eight inches of the toy into his mouth. He gagged slightly around it, and Freed found himself entranced by the bobbing of his Adam's apple as he swallowed around the thick girth of the toy. He held himself there for a few long, delicious moments, before rising nearly to the tip and plunging down again.

He repeated the motion, never once taking his eyes off of Freed. It was like they were ensnared by each other, and Freed found himself stroking his dick time and time again. His breaths came short, and he forced himself to step back, look away, and lace his hands behind his head. Anything to stop himself from cumming too soon and ending the show he was being gifted.

"You know the rules," Loke purred a seductive purr. "Eyes on me, Handsome."

"Give me a second."

"Not how this works, lovely."

Freed growled, but turned back to Loke, who was grinning at him with his lips pressed against the tip of the toy. He licked it again, and Freed felt the phantom sensation of a tongue on his own cock, and shivered at the false teasing. His hand found his cock again, balls tight in their sac and precum leaking.

Loke shifted his position to reach for the other toy. The larger, ribbed, curved dildo that made most men weak at the knees. He gave the tip a gentle kiss, before sitting back, spreading his legs, and presenting his hole for Freed to see. His abs flexed, his cock twitched and his hole clenched and unclenched. He leant back, laid down on the floor, and teased his hole with the dildo. Freed swallowed at the sight, pulling hard on his dick, eyes trained on the man before him.

"Hey Freed," Loke whispered.

"Yes," Freed croaked.

"Watch this," He instructed redundantly, before slamming the toy into his ass.

The beautiful moan was music in the room, and the way his hole took the ever-thickening toy was an act of god. He took it halfway down the twelve inches, throwing his head back and arching his back in a perfect curve. He ground his hips down on the toy, and Freed watched with bated breath.

Damn, Freed wanted to fuck him. He had for years. For every session they'd had together. For every shared modelling session, every flirty little moment they shared, and every passing graze of a hand as he passed. Anytime Freed saw a pretty, handsome, sexy man he wanted nothing more to ensnare, fuck, and delight them.

Loke knew it, and toyed with the desire every chance he got.

"You're leaking," Loke teased.

"As are you," Freed snapped.

"Doesn't matter if I cum. Only matters if you do," Loke said, and ground his hips down to take the toy in another inch. "Aw, fuck yeah. So full."

"No one fucking says that," Freed growled.

"So full," Loke repeated, and with any other sub, that would have got him a whipping. Teasing, bratting little bitch.

But Freed's snappish anger departed and was overcome when Loke pushed the toy deeper in, and a low ruined groan split through his throat with no exaggeration nor performance. He was taking the toy so well and looked damn angelic as he writhed and jutted his hips up. He would take Freed's cock so well. He would moan like a perfect, wonderful slut while Freed took him, and Freed would drink in the sounds with greed and abandon.

Seeing Freed's clenched fist, his intentioned lack of a grasp of his cock, and his furiously blissed out expression, Loke moaned again. He reached to the side, found the toy he'd sucked, and brought it to his lips again. Only when he saw Freed's stuttering gasp did he take it deep and sucked it.

Fuck, what a sight.

Loke writhed and rolled his hips as he was filled deep from both ends. He started to fuck himself with the toy while he deep throated the other. His body was perfect debauched pleasure, and Freed just wanted to touch and bite and whip and kiss. He took the toys so good. So good for Freed. Such a good boy!

He gagged on the full length of one toy, while the other was pushed in and out in a fast, greedy rhythm. He gagged and thrusted and bucked his hips like a wild animal yet maintained just enough elegance to have Freed's toes curling.

So desperate to put the lion in his place, flashes of fantasies struck Freed fast and vicious. He could do so much to Loke. Make him feel so good. Make him hurt so much.

"Fuck!" Freed roared with a sudden ferocity, turning from Loke just to catch his breath. He would not cum yet. He would not submit to this brat.

"Freed," Loke coaxed, and Freed didn't respond. "Freed."

"I know, I need to look at you," Freed snapped. "Just give me a moment."

There wasn't a response right away, and when there was one, it was the voice of a seducer. "Hey Freed, guess what."

"What?" Freed grunted.

"Come kiss me, Handsome."

Freed's head snapped to him. He'd thrown the toy he was sucking to the side, and crooked a finger to summon Freed towards him. Damn, Freed wanted to, so much. But he needed to hold back, to give Loke a chance to take it back. He quirked an eyebrow, and Loke just blew him a little kiss and pushed the toy in deeper. That was enough.

He stormed towards him, climbed over him, and pinned his wrists above his head, the toy still deep in his ass. Loke looked up at him with wide, needy eyes, and Freed wasted no more time. He lunged down, and kissed the lion who had been tormenting him for years. Loke kissed like he lived; seductively, beautifully, and brilliantly.

Damn, Freed wanted him as his own.

"Keep kissing me," Loke demanded on a whisper the moment Freed pulled apart. "And fuck me with the toy."

Freed didn't need convincing. He kissed Loke again, tongues butting against each other as Freed grabbed the base of the toy and fucked Loke with it. In and out, kissing deeper and deeper. The first shocks of pleasure he'd ever been permitted to give Loke, and he would bring his lion all the pleasure a man could feel. He'd get him addicted. He'd have Loke begging to know what Freed could do with his own cock.

Any pretence of acting Loke had been putting on was gone now. Now, he writhed and moaned and rutted in genuine pleasure, letting Freed plunder him and stretch him with his biggest dildo. Freed ate the moans, never taking more than a split second to breathe before pulling Freed into another kiss.

"Fu-uck!" Loke howled into Freed's mouth, and Freed felt it as hot cum shot onto his own stomach. Loke pushed down on the dildo, and up into Freed's mouth as he rode out the ecstasy of an orgasm. "Aw fuck. Fucking hell!"

Freed pushed the toy in deeper and deeper, milking every drop out of Loke's balls until he collapsed into a satisfied heap on the ground. Freed fell with him, sweat and cum sticking their hot bodies together.

"Since we're getting touchy," Freed panted. "Perhaps I could show you how much better I am than a toy."

Loke laughed a blissed out laugh. "Took us this long to kiss, you really think I'll spread my legs that quickly," Loke leaned down and kissed Freed on the cheek. "You'll have to be patient, handsome."

"I have been patient."

"I'm worth the wait."

He would be, was the annoying thing. So Freed would wait. He'd wait until Loke wanted his dick. He'd wait until they could finally do what they both wanted. He'd wait until Loke realised he had been bratting for years.

And when that day came, Freed would pull every dirty trick, sadistic tease, and brutal act of dominance so that Loke wouldn't be walking straight for weeks.

"Very well," Freed panted after a moment, stroking his hands down Loke's chest. "I will wait, and you will test my patience, and eventually you will submit to me and be every bit as good as I wish you to be. And then, when that happens, I will ruin you."

Loke, his little lion, simply purred.

Chapter Text

Day 14: Possessive Sex

Freed x Laxus

It didn't happen often, Laxus getting jealous. When they'd started the shift from dominant and submissive to master and slave – or when they'd started dating, as most would put it – Freed had been firm that he wouldn't stop seeing his other submissives and dominants. There would be no romance between any of them, but it was a part of his life that he would not end, and Laxus had been perfectly fine with it.

They'd come to an agreement with how that would work. Freed would be transparent, but not descriptive, and there was to be no secrets and no questions that couldn't be asked and wouldn't be answered. They also agreed that Freed would rid his scent of all other men after every session, and Freed almost always managed to do it.

Today was an exception.

A scene with a sub had gone slightly wrong. The sub had wanted to test his limits, and Freed had thought him ready. But at the apex of the scene, Freed noticed that his partner was showing signs of distress despite refusing to admit it. Freed asked and asked, and eventually had to use the safeword himself for fear of his subs wellbeing. That had opened the floodgates to his subs real emotions, and a lot of aftercare, and gentle support had been needed to get his partner back to himself. It had taken a long time, and Freed had barely returned from walking his partner home when Laxus returned. Freed hadn't been able to shower yet, and likely reeked of his partner's scent. He went to it almost immediately, but Freed knew Laxus wouldn't have been able to miss it.

"It's okay to be angry with me, you know," Freed said, looking down at Laxus. They were in the living room, sitting in front of a fire with Laxus kneeling at Freed's feet, Freed scratching his scalp and playing with his hair. "I broke our agreement."

"Not intentional. And it's not like you could've helped it. I would've been fucking pissed if you didn't look after him but, it's just…" Laxus groaned. "I completely understand it, and I completely support it, but it still pisses me off."

"And that's natural. As is your anger."

"No. It's not fair. It's not rational."

"Laxus, I have an immense amount of control over your body and behaviour, a control I doubt I would ever give to anyone. In a lot of ways, our relationship is neither fair nor rational, and that extends to your benefit as well as mine," Freed smiled down at him. "I would never want you to hide your feelings, especially if you're angry at me."

"I'm not angry at you. I'm angry at myself because this is gettin' to me. I know you fuck other guys, and that they fuck you, and that they hear the same orders you give me and that we use the same toys. I know that. I know I don't own you like you own me but…" Laxus sighed. "I just can't stop smelling him."

"Well, first off Laxus Dreyar, you own me just as much as I own you. I play with those men, but my devotion and love is only for you," Freed made Laxus look up at him, and cupped his cheek. "And secondly, perhaps it would settle you if I made it clear all the parts of me that you and you alone get to see."

Laxus didn't say anything, but he averted his gaze and shifted, and Freed knew his slave well enough to know that was agreement without being willing to say it.

"You see me at all times. Not just in play. You see me when I wake up. When I'm testy. When I'm sick. When I'm wine drunk and start playing the piano. When I'm cooking. When I'm yours," He stroked a thumb down Laxus' cheek. "You get me romantic, and tired, and sneaky, and bloodthirsty, and happy. You get this house, not just a room in it. You get the life that extends outside of kink. You get the man, not the fantasy."

Laxus blushed a little more. "Sweet talker."

"You also, if you're ready for it of course, get a chance to stake your claim on me," Freed said with a smile, and Laxus' eyes snapped to him. Laxus truly loved sex, and Freed loved how unashamed he was of it. "Fuck me, my dear, and I promise I won't shower until you're entirely satisfied your point, and indeed your claim, has been made clear."

With a bit of hesitation, and a deep swallow, laxus spoke. "The playroom cleaned up? Because, I don't wanna smell him-"

"The playroom is clean, but that's not where we're going."

Laxus looked at him with wide eyes. "You mean…"

"Fuck me in my own bed, Mister Dreyar."

Laxus was up on his feet within a moment, breaking an order but Freed didn't mind all that much. He was on Freed within an instant, kissing him deeply and hooking his hands under his thighs. Freed laughed as he was hauled up in Laxus' arms, and Laxus swallowed the laugh with a kiss.

Despite having advanced their relationship to dating two months prior, they'd never done anything other than sleep in either man's bed. Kink was a big part of their sex life, and they naturally defaulted to the playroom – or broom closets, alleyways, and on one occasion an unused horse stable – and the beds went unfucked. Silently, it had become something of a big moment that loomed over them, one that Freed wanted to get right.

Now was the perfect moment.

Laxus lowered Freed onto the mattress of his bed slowly, climbing on top of him and peppering kisses down Freed's jaw. His hands deftly unbuttoned Freed's shirt, and he roamed over the strong expanse of muscle he was presented with. Freed tangled a hand in Laxus' short hair, sighing in utter pleasure as Laxus kissed, stroked, and kneaded any part of him that he seemed worthy. Laxus was a soft, attentive, all-encompassing lover when kink wasn't involved and loved showing his partner the adoration he might struggle to verbalise, apparently. Freed relished it.

Freed shifted so that his shirt could be removed fully, and took the opportunity to slide Laxus' tee over his head. He indulged in the sight of Laxus half stripped. His body was a wonder. Broad shoulders, his chest with that beautiful tattoo, abs that flexed with each and every breath, a tight little waist that culminated in a firm V shape, and the most handsome face.

Freed reached up and ran his hands, firm and strong, over Laxus' torso. Laxus had a lovely blissed out expression, and his eyes fluttered as Freed teased his nipples before leaning back, hand wrapped around the back of Laxus' neck, taking him with him.

The kissed again, hot skin against hot skin as Laxus slid his hands up and down Freed's sides. Freed raised his waist up a little, and Laxus must have known because he unbuttoned Freed's pants and slid them down. They soon reached the floor, and Laxus spread Freed's legs wide enough to line kisses up the left. He placed a soft kiss to Freed's sac, nose resting against his cock, and took a long inhalation. He looked drunk of the scent of Freed's soaps and cologne.

"Better," He purred, before taking a long lick of Freed's cock, slow and teasing.

Freed let his head fall back, eyes closed as he praised in a whisper, "Gods, your tongue."

"Like it?" Laxus asked, and Freed made a vaguely agreeing noise as Laxus licked him again. "That's awful flattering, but I don't wanna suck you tonight. I wanna fuck you while I kiss you."

Something about it drove Freed wild. Something about how certain Laxus sounded, or that he had dropped their master/slave dynamic completely, or just the hungry lilt in his voice. But Freed raised his hips, spread his legs wider, and gave Laxus silent permission to do whatever the hell he wanted.

Soon enough, Laxus had the heating-enchanted lube slicking his fingers. He moved Freed so his feet were flat on the bed, legs raised in a harsh angle that had his ass raised and exposed. Laxus pressed little kisses, and the occasional bite, into Freed's thighs as he slowly began to stretch him out. The warm lube and Laxus' thick, probing, stretching fingers were magnificent.

"That enough, Darlin'?" Laxus asked, and Freed felt his balls contracting at the nickname alone.

"Yes," Freed panted, pushing down when Laxus curled his finger and stroked the side of Freed's flesh. "Fuck."

"You're mine, aren't you?"

"Yes. Only yours," Freed panted. "So, completely, utterly yours."

"You're gonna reek of me," Laxus said, licking a long stripe up Freed's stomach, fingers still stretching him. "Your bed. Your body. All gonna be me."

"Fuck," Freed panted, cock twitching and leaking at the idea of it. "Yes. Please."

"God, you get real needy when you're in your own bed, huh?" Laxus teased, pressing the lightest of kisses onto Freed's lips. "You want me to fuck you, Master?"

"Yes!"

Laxus laughed, then hooked Freed's legs over his shoulders. Freed looked up at the Adonis who belonged to him – him and nobody else – with wide eyes as hard muscles flexed and Laxus grinned down at him.

He wondered what Laxus saw. He would see Freed with his hair spread out across the sheets. He would see Freed's naked body, cock needy and hard for him and ass ready for whatever Laxus wanted. He would see flushed cheeks, parted lips, and eyes so heavy with lust that they must have shone with it. He would see the man who loved him, and adored him, and cherished him above all else, ready to be fucked.

The press of a thick cock head against his ass had Freed snapping out of his slightly dazed moment, and Laxus laughed a little. He pushed Freed's legs further into his torso, knowing he was flexible enough to take it.

"Fast or slow?" Laxus asked.

"However you want me."

Laxus grinned, and slowly pushed his dick into Freed. The thick girth of him was agonisingly addictive. It hurt, and Laxus knew it, and kept going. Freed loved it, and did all he could to push himself further down to fully split himself open. Laxus kept pushing, and kept moving Freed until he could lean down and press a kiss on his lips. When Freed was entirely folded, and entirely filled with Laxus' thick cock, Laxus froze and grinned.

"Tell me I belong to you."

"You belong to me, Laxus," Freed said, voice a sudden possessive snarl. "You are mine."

"Tell me you own me."

"I own you. Ever damn inch of you. Every thought and fantasy. Every bit of you is for me."

"Tell me you're gonna reek of me."

"Everyone will know. Everyone will smell it. You. For as long as you want."

"Tell me you're my master."

"Of course I am," Freed panted. "You've belonged to me from the moment you first saw me."

"Tell me I'm your slave."

"You're mine!"

Laxus suddenly moved. He took Freed into a wonderfully messy, passionate, deep kiss. He jackhammered his cock in and out of Freed's ass, again and again. Hard and fast and entirely like Laxus. Laxus fucked him like he fought. Like he lived. Like his passions had him on edge and he was ready to explode in every moment. And Freed was the one to see it, to feel the reverberations and to be taken out by the aftershocks. Laxus was his personal, one-man supernova, and he fucked like a damn machine.

Moaning and slurring and panting, Freed lost himself. He only existed to feel the kiss of his man, the rub of their hot bodies together, the burn of muscle from his awkward position, the split of his ass, and the scent of his slave.

He came, drunkenly rutting into Laxus' pounding cock. His cock exploded over them both, and the slick sliding of their hard stomachs felt magical. Laxus slammed into him again and again, relishing the tightness of Freed's orgasm-clenched ass before filling his hole with his own seed. He pulled out fast enough for Freed to moan out in agonised delight, and shot three fat spurts of cum all over Freed. He then ran his hands all over Freed, rubbing their shared cum into his skin. He went so far as to stroke his face and hair.

"You're gonna smell so fucking good," Laxus purred, sliding onto Freed and kissing him again. "Nobody's gonna be able to look you in the eye."

"Not even you?"

"You kidding me. I'm not letting my master out of my goddamn sight."

With that, Laxus pulled Freed into a kiss, and Freed knew that, for as long as he felt this bliss that only Laxus could give him, his were the only eyes he'd ever need on him again. His Dragon. His slave. His Boy. And, Freed was quite certain of this, the man who he would one day both collar, and marry.

Chapter Text

Day 15: Semi Public Sex

Freed x Midnight x Erik

The little gasp Midnight – he'd asked to go by Midnight for this – let out when Freed appeared in front of him was pretty damn adorable. Freed quite literally ate it up, pulling the man into a soft kiss that he immediately melted into. Freed crawled on top of him, holding him close and kissing him passed his nerves, and into a blissful state of anticipation.

"How are you feeling?" Freed whispered, smile mostly friendly, if a little seductive.

Midnight took a moment. "Excited."

"Good."

Freed kissed him again, and used the kiss to gently push Midnight so that he was spread out on his bedroll. A small, old fashioned tent half way up a wooded mountain wasn't the most cohesive place to bring a man to the edge of pleasure, but Freed would make it work. This was what Midnight had asked for, after all.

It had happened rather abruptly. Crime Sorcière had come to Fairy Tail a month prior, and apparently Freed's reputation preceded him, because on the final night of the visit Midnight had cornered Freed and asked if he made true the fantasies of men outside of his own guild. Freed confirmed he did, if they married up with what he was comfortable with and were with a man he was attracted to. Freed had made it very clear that Midnight fell into the latter category and asked what fantasy Midnight had.

He wanted to feel the risk of being caught. By his guild-mates no less.

The nomadic nature of Crime Sorcière meant a lot of times spent in camps, up close and personal with the rest of the guild. Midnight was a young man, and his balls ached like anyone else. He jerked off often, and at some point, the risk of someone overhearing went from terrifying to exhilarating. He now stroked himself off to the thought of being caught. And not just with his dick in his hand. He dreamed of being caught with a man, mid thrust and lost to the pleasure.

And when Freed heard such a tantalising fantasy, from a man who looked so easy to break but he knew was anything but, Freed had no choice but to make it happen. He'd given Midnight a little fob, told him to squeeze it for five seconds when he wanted his fantasy made real, and if Freed could get there, he'd make his dreams come true.

"This is really happening?" Midnight asked, his voice a pleasure filled gasp that sent shivers down Freed's spine. He loved finding out how a new partner sounded in bed.

"It is," Freed confirmed. "I'm giving you two different safewords for this. Clock, and doorway. If you say clock, it means you want me to stop, and to look after you until you're feeling settled. If you say doorway, it means you want me to immediately teleport away and leave you on your own. Do you understand?"

"Clock means aftercare. Door means get the hell out," Midnight surmised, and Freed smiled.

"Correct," he leant in closer, and his whisper grew sinful. "Now, lets make you scream."

Freed wordlessly kissed Midnight again, hand sliding up his shirt which he quickly removed. Midnight gasped as Freed played with his pierced nipples. He toyed with the studs, and Midnight moaned deep into his mouth. He was verbal indeed. Freed had half expected him to be silent and not getting even close to being caught. This was better. This was a real struggle, and one Freed would enjoy subjecting Midnight to.

He instructed Midnight remove his shirt, and he quickly got to work unbuttoning Freed's buttons. The task did what it was meant to. Midnight's hands were shaking, showing his true nerves, but all it took to steady him was a stroking thumb on his side. He was a little scared, but desperate for it.

Once Freed was shirtless, he took Midnight's hand and roamed it over his body. He let Midnight feel every inch of firm muscle that would be his to play with for the night. The definition of his abs had Midnight gasp, and Freed playfully popped a peck when Midnight groped it. In the darkness of their tent, he could only barely see Midnight's parted lips. He kissed them in reward.

"May I touch your cock, Pretty Thing?" Freed asked, and Midnight nodded.

Freed slid a hand down through the waistband of Midnight's sleep pants, and grinned at the gasp. His hand was gentle and teasing, and it was a touch meant to drive Midnight to distraction. He wanted him riled up and needy, close enough to make a mistake and let his control slip. He didn't know if Midnight could take the reality of being caught, but he needed the fantasy of the risk. Freed could give him that.

As he teasingly stroked Midnight's cock, he left kisses down his milky white torso. It was quiet, wherever they were. Freed could hear leaves rustling, a recently extinguished fire crackling to its end, and even the trickle of a stream. Midnight's guild members would be asleep, as per Freed's instruction, but it was still quiet enough for any sound to be obvious.

This really was going to be fun.

"May I strip you completely?" Freed requested.

"Only if I get to do you first," Midnight grinned a little.

Freed gave him a congratulatory pat on the cheek. "Cheeky."

But he let Midnight do as he wished. Freed wore no underwear below his pants, and watched in the darkness as Midnight saw his cock bobbing. Freed was an impressive sight when stripped, and if he was judging right from the teasing he'd given Midnight, quite a few inches larger too. Freed helped with the removal of his own pants, the tent not giving them enough space for Midnight to do it easily.

Now naked, he let Midnight's hands roam him all over. He played with Freed's cock, his balls, and gave his ass a firm squeeze that nearly had Freed laughing. Midnight had said he'd had sex before, but not often as their lifestyle didn't allow it. He was clearly a man who loved it, though. They were the most fun to play with.

He took Freed's cock in hand, and dragged a nail down a vein, all while pushing his thumb into the slit. Freed had to bite his lip from groaning, and even with limited sight he could see Midnight's amusement.

"You're a little minx, aren't you?"

"I'm pretty. I get away with things," Midnight teased back, and Freed had to kiss the man for the pure gaul of the sentence.

Midnight pushed their bodies together and made a bit of a mess of kicking off his own pants and leaving them to pile up with Freed's. Freed decided to get his own fill of his partner, and took his ass in both hands. Plump, a little firm, and infinitely fuckable. Tonight would be a pleasure.

They kissed and teased one another, a silent game to see who would be the first to make any real noise. Midnight was resilient, but not unbeatable. Midnight had stated he was a strict bottom, and Freed knew the secret to his victory would be to tease his ass.

Soon. Soon he'd have Midnight moaning loud enough for the danger to be present. But for now, all he heard was the panting of a needy man, the rustling of the other tents, and the ambient sounds of nature.

"You really are very pretty," Freed praised as he pressed kisses down Midnight's body.

"I know," Midnight gasped, hands holding Freed's head and pulling at his hair.

"You're also a little arrogant. Sassy, too."

"I know," Midnight grinned. "Maybe you should shut me up."

"Maybe I should," Freed agreed. He crawled up the length of his body, pressed a light kiss on his lips, then asked, "Have you ever sucked a cock, Midnight?"

Midnight's grin almost stopped the pleasured little gasp he let out. "No."

"I think it's time we change that, don't you?"

Midnight's reaction, as beautiful and needy as it was, went to the wayside. Freed was hyper aware of what was going on around him – both by his nature as a mage and as a necessity of a scene like this – so he heard the slightest of thuds followed by a hissed 'mother fucker', presumably from one of the other tents.

It took Freed a moment to recognise the voice, and when he did, he realised what was really happening. Midnight was a man who liked the fantasy of getting caught. Midnight was a man who fed off danger. Midnight was a man who liked to tease people and push their buttons.

Midnight was also a man who slept mere feet away from Erik, who had probably heard every one of Midnight's late night jerk off sessions, and every single thing that had happened since Freed had arrived.

Sneaky little minx.

Freed knew he should be angry. That he should end the scene since he hadn't been informed of everything, and that perhaps a third party had intentionally been involved. But Freed had said during their conversations he wasn't against being caught. And he had seen many times during Crime Sorcière visit the longing, lust filled looks Erik had given Midnight when he wasn't looking. This was morally… dubious, but this was also the mating ritual of people who's morals didn't align with the best of man.

In that, Freed could empathise. So he leant down, whispered as quietly and as seductively as he could, "I bet I could fuck your mouth so well you'd leave this little guild to be my live in toy."

Midnight looked confused for a moment at the sudden change of foreplay, but that hadn't been said for his benefit. And when Freed heard the unzipping of a tent and the sound of bare feet on forest ground, he knew his intended audience had heard.

Freed gave Midnight a wink. "Thank me later, Minx."

Sure enough, the side of Midnight's tent opened, and Erik glared down at them. Midnight gasped as Erik, wearing nothing but boxers that seemed to strain under the tenting erection, stood over them. Freed crawled back, letting Erik see every inch of Midnight's naked, needy body, and didn't miss the dilation of his eyes. Erik swallowed, before turning venomous eyes onto Freed.

"You're not taking him. You're not owning him," he whispered with genuine anger that, Freed had to admit, turned him on immensely. "And you're sure as hell not being the first cock he sucks."

Freed left a gap for Midnight to answer, should he want to, but no answer came. Midnight's cock was ramrod straight though, and he clearly wanted nothing more than to rip Erik's boxers off and suck him raw. He needed a push, and Freed was the man to do it. "And who, pray, will be the first?"

"Me!" Erik snarled as quietly as he could, before storming into the tent, cupping Midnight's chin, and giving him a claiming kiss that had him moaning in ways Freed hadn't been able to coax.

"You want me to suck you?" Midnight said once the kiss broke, eyes wide and manic with desire.

"After months of you jackin' off and panting my name, I damn well demand it."

Midnight looked elated, and Freed almost teleported away to give them their space. But Midnight looked over his shoulder, at Freed and his needy cock, and perhaps the minx had a heart after all. "What about Freed?"

"Smarmy fucker ain't getting near you."

"Little late for that," Freed murmured, and Erik looked murderous.

"You are mine, Snakelet," Erik purred, and the way that Midnight's body relaxed was almost a religious sight. This was a master claiming his submissive, and Freed was given a front row to see it.

"Thank you," Midnight gasped. "Still, seems a little cruel to send him away after getting him hard."

It was a manipulation tactic; Midnight wanted to be filled from both ends, and all three of them knew it. Were Midnight Freed's sub, he might get a spanking for trying it. But Erik must be an indulgent master, because he gave Freed a long, steady look as he thought through his options.

"You eat his ass," Erik snapped. "I get his mouth, and you just make him feel good. You don't touch yourself, you don't cum, and your dick doesn't get anywhere near my boy. You understand me?"

It was a rule, from one dom to another. Freed nodded. "I do."

Erik nodded, then turned back to Midnight. "On your hands and knees, Snakelet. Eyes on me at all times. No touching your dick. You cum from me and me alone."

Midnight did as his newly claimed master demanded, and Freed watched as adoration filled his eyes. Erik removed his boxers as Midnight positioned himself, and the moment Erik was kneeling before him, he took Midnight's head and guided it onto his cock. They stared at each other with open love and lust, and Freed indulged himself, watching as Erik rolled his hot body in slow gyrations, making Midnight gag each time.

But Freed had a role to play. To be a silent addition to another dominant's game. He was to shut up, and make Midnight feel good.

He licked a stripe down Midnight's crack, before sliding his tongue into him. He licked and licked, eyes closed to give the men their privacy. He probed Midnight's hole with expert precision, doing all he could to be the mindless sensation that drove Midnight over the edge. Erik thrust so firmly into Midnight that his body jerked with each thrust, and Freed timed his tonguing with each shunt. Midnight's moans were muted by the cock in his mouth, but beautiful all the same.

Freed got lost in the rhythm, servicing another mans sub as best he could. His haze only broke when whispered curses came from Erik, quickly followed by panting and jutting. Midnight shot his load onto the bedroll, Erik's cum dribbling from his mouth. Freed watched as Erik pulled Midnight into a kiss, which looked boneless and lethargic.

As Midnight collapsed into Erik's heaving chest, Erik looked at Freed. He gave him a short nod, perhaps in thanks for pushing him into acting on his claim, and quietly said. "Doorway."

Safeword used, Freed teleported away, and began to stroke himself at the memory of a wonderful night. The sight of two men meant for each other finally coming together – quite literally – brought Freed to the edge. Two beautiful men, who would fuck like rabbits and cherish each other endlessly. It was enough to make any man cum.

He washed off, got rid of their scent, and walked to his bedroom, where his own slave slept soundly. He wished Midnight and Erik as much happiness as he himself had. He climbed into bed, and smiled.

Chapter Text

Day 16: Remote Control

Freed x Bickslow

Bickslow had actually asked for this, Freed thought as he pressed the button on the little remote control.

All the women of the guild had vacated the building for a weekend spar treatment, meaning an impromptu guy's night had started up in the guild. Ever since Freed's services had become well known, and well used, by the men of the guild, there had been a slight shift in how they acted when the women weren't around. Mainly, a slight but noticeable horny haze overtook them, and boundaries were lessened ever so slightly.

So Bickslow had bounded up to Freed with a wide grin that only led to trouble. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a butt plug and a remote, and told Freed that tonight was the night. Freed had to agree, and within five minutes Bickslow was plugged up and at Freed's mercy, for whenever Freed wanted to act.

He waited three hours.

Bickslow hadn't let his guard down, exactly, but he had been distracted. He'd done a pull up competition with Natsu which had ended up with Natsu stripped to his boxers for the rest of the night for losing. Then he'd cheered from the sidelines as Gildarts and Gray made out with each other. And now he was leaning on the wall, laying the moves on Loke, who was happy to flirt with Bickslow whenever the opportunity presented itself.

"You know, little kitten, you'd look awful pretty with a bell around your neck," Bickslow purred, and Freed watched, his hand hovering over the button.

He was waiting for the perfect moment, and then he'd use his toy.

"You know what you'd look good wearing," Loke flirted back. "Nothing at all."

"That can be arranged," Bickslow grinned, stepping further into Loke's space. "I'm pretty flexible when I'm naked, you know that? I can do the spli-aaats!"

Bickslow bent at the waist as the large plug burst to life, vibrating with wavering intensity all of a sudden. His eyes blew wide as he almost headbutted Loke, hips jutting out with a helpless thrust. He made a needy noise, obviously clenched his cheeks to push the plug in deeper, and shot Freed a pathetic look. Cute.

"Please," Freed said, motioning to Loke. "Continue your conversation."

Bickslow looked pained, looked down at his crotch, looked at the remote Freed was holding, then looked back to Loke. Everyone else was looking at Bickslow now. They knew what was happening, and they knew a show was coming.

"The, erm, the splits," Bickslow said, his voice high and his hands clenched at his sides. "I can do the splits."

"Very good," Loke praised, then looked Bickslow all over and put on a faux concerned expression. "You okay?"

"Fine," Bickslow grunted.

"You seem… distracted?" Loke teased.

"Well, I've got a plug up my ass vibrating in just the right spot, so yeah, kinda distracted."

Freed switched the plug to a greater intensity, and Bickslow squealed and put both hands on Loke's shoulders for balance. He rocked his hips as if it could feel as good as a real cock in his ass. He made a pitiful sound, and the men watching him laughed. Bickslow just gave a weak look at Freed.

"Can I-"

"No," Freed preempted. Bickslow was not to touch himself yet.

"But Baby!" Bickslow whined.

"You quite literally asked for this," Freed fought back, then flicked the toy off. Bickslow whined at the lack of stimulation, and Freed caught an aborted movement. He was going to shove the plug in deeper, but knew better. He looked at Freed with big sad eyes. "Now go about your night, and I'll tell you if you're permitted to touch your little cock."

"Fine-hey. I'm hung, asshole! Bigger than you!" Bickslow's claim had people laughing. Bickslow glared at everyone who dared question his size. "Oh, fuck the lot of ya. I'm packing a monster."

"We can get some tape and compare," Freed called Bickslow's bluff. Bickslow pouted.

"You all suck! Who wants to play strip jenga with me?"

Bickslow went to the jenga table, and managed to win against Jet, Elfman and Gildarts. Many times when Bickslow was about to take out a piece, Freed clicked on the remote and sent vibrations through Bickslow's needy ass. He flinched, moaned, and in one instance threw a piece across the room when his body shot up straight. Everyone laughed, and he glared at Freed each time. Freed just laughed.

But, as much as Freed loved driving Bickslow mad and needy, he didn't like putting himself in that situation. And knowing how much Bickslow needed more – how behind his bluster and pouting he was desperate for a hand, mouth, or ass on his cock – was making Freed's pants tight and his breaths short. He wanted Bickslow on edge, yes, but he had his limits.

He approached the jenga table, and took his place opposite Bickslow. Bickslow grinned, "Ready to get naked, baby?"

"Not exactly," Freed smiled. "I propose a different forfeit for us. When you lose, we go to the library, you strip off, do the splits as you claimed you can, and only when I'm satisfied will I let you cum."

"I gotta do the splits plugged?" Freed nodded. "That's hot as fuck. Okay, sure. But when I win, you get the plug, and I get the remote."

Freed considered. "Deal."

Freed played dirty, used the plug to his advantage, and won almost instantly. Freed walked towards the library without further words, inviting anyone who wanted to watch to follow him. Half the men there followed, and Freed made sure to switch the plug on as Bickslow was halfway up the stairs, clutching the banister and moaning like he was born to do it.

In the library, the men of the guild lined the walls and Bickslow took centre stage. Freed clicked off the plug, motioned for Bickslow to begin, and leant against the wall with the rest of the crowd.

Bickslow shrugged off his spandex shirt quickly, and threw it to the ground. He put on a show of doing a body roll that had his hard body flexing perfectly. He put his hands behind his head and played for the crowd. His show ended pretty quickly when Freed put on the sporadic pulse setting of the plug. When he was straight, and sweating madly, Freed turned the plug off again.

He stripped off his skirt next, and dropped his briefs to show off his cock. If anyone was unsure before, they all knew Freed was bigger now. A few chuckles filled the quiet, and Bickslow put on a haughty expression.

"You suck," he pointed at Natsu, who was openly laughing. "You suck," he moved his finger to Gildarts. "You su-aack. Freed I swear to god I will smash that remote into your freakishly big dick."

"The splits, Bickslow."

"Fine. But you suck too."

Bickslow took a breath, and Freed switched the toy off again. He watched as Bickslow started to spread his legs, getting lower and lower. Freed undid his pants and pulled out his cock, stroking it slowly as Bickslow began to perform his task. Some of the other guys got their dicks out too, and Bickslow looked from dick to dick, obviously trying to settle on who he wanted to suck the most.

He settled on Freed, and got a grin in return. With a shuddering breath, Bickslow's ass touched the ground, legs split perfectly. He looked up at the crowd of men who stroked themselves above him, throat bobbing as he swallowed.

"Hold the pose," Freed instructed, before putting the plug on its most intense mode: Hellscape.

Bickslow's jaw dropped, and he rolled his hips as best he could. His hands clenched tight on his thighs, clearly wanting to touch his cock but knowing he couldn't. His chest was shining with sweat, his face was screwed up, and his jaw was ticking.

Wordlessly, Freed stepped forward and jerked his cock, aiming it right at Bickslow's face. It wouldn't take long, and Freed made no effort to make it elegant as he stroked and stroked, again and again, eyes never leaving Bickslow's. Bickslow was a man of perfect beauty, and he was in his element when he was in the spotlight and under someone's thumb. Hard, shaking, and desperate to please.

Gods, he must be so horny. So needy. So desperate to be good and desperate to be bad.

With a shudder of a sudden orgasm, Freed shot spunk over Bickslow's face. He rode his organs to completion, and only when he'd drained every drop from his cock did he take a breath, and order, "Go ahead."

With the speed and ferocity of a madman, Bickslow shifted to a crosslegged position, and jerked his cock. He was fast, so fast, and threw his head back. He fucked his fist and rose his hips, his other hand pushing the plug as far up his ass as he could get it. He moaned and groaned and debased himself in front of any man who wanted to see him. He cursed and chanted and roared his please.

"Fu-uck!" He said, and came over himself. It was a fat eruption of spend, and covered him in all the places Freed hadn't.

Heavy breaths filled the room, and not just Freed and Bickslow had cum. Bickslow sat back, grinned at the crowd, and laced his hands behind his head. "So, who wants their cum licked up?"

Freed laughed, and left the jester to his adoring crowd. Freed still had his remote.

Chapter Text

Day 17: Service Kink

Freed x Jellal

Freed had to wonder if Jellal even remembered that he was still in the room. He seemed so engrossed in his current task – cleaning the array of leather harnesses, clothing and toys that Freed had pulled out for him – that he seemed almost dead to the world around him. Good; that's what the man needed.

From the side, Freed watched as Jellal repeated a well practiced routine. He picked up the next piece of leather, brushed it clean from any debris of crusted fluid with a soft brush, slicked it up with leather cleaner, washed it off with a damp cloth, dried it down with a microfibre towel, then applied the leather conditioner. For clothes, he hung them up. For harnesses, he returned them to their play box, and for the whips and crops he placed them in their cases ready for use.

All day Jellal had been working on any chores Freed set him, wearing nothing but a cute bow tie. His cock had been hard constantly, and hadn't been touched once.

"How long will it take until you're done?" Freed asked, and smiled a little when Jellal's back snapped. He had forgotten he'd been watched.

"About five minutes, sir," Jellal said after looking at the line of crops he still had left to clean.

"Very good. Once you're done, you'll hang my laundry on the washing line outside and then make me some lunch. Something with steak, I think."

"Yes, sir."

Jellal was one of Freed's most obedient partners, and his kink was to simply be controlled. He wanted nothing more than to escape his mind and his responsibilities, and to do what his Sir commanded. Sometimes that was all encompassing, sometimes degrading, and sometimes – like today – it was practical. Jellal wanted to keep his hands busy, and Freed had allowed for a lax in housework so Jellal could pick up the slack.

So far Jellal had reorganised one of the playroom's closets, dusted this whip rack, rearranged the chastity cages in size order, and vacuumed the floor. He'd ironed all of the clothes left in Freed's laundry room, and had spent twenty minutes on his knees reading through Freed's corespondents and writing out any responses Freed saw fit to send back. He was being very good indeed.

The pattern of washing leather went on and on, until Freed's crops were all but sparkling. Jellal didn't need further instruction once he was done, and went his way to Freed's laundry room to take out the freshly washed clothes. Freed followed him, soaking in the sight of his naked back and firm, tight little ass.

Jellal took the clothes out from the washing machine and placed them into the basket beside it with care. He seemed to have a sort of reverence for his tasks, and took care in them. Once they were all in the basket, he lifted it up and walked into Freed's back yard, cock swinging free as he did so.

Naked and outside, he looked wonderful. He'd come so far since they first started, when the very idea of even Freed seeing him naked made him squirm. Nobody would be near Freed's secluded house, of course, but the fact Jellal didn't even hesitate to go outside was testimony to how much he'd progressed.

Piece by piece, he hung Freed's laundry on the line. They were perfectly equidistant to each other, with two pegs in each item of clothing. First his pants, then shirts, then boxers, then socks. Formal and perfect, just like the man who hung them.

As Jellal walked back inside, Freed pressed a light kiss on his cheek as praise. Jellal bloomed red, and smiled.

Again, Freed followed Jellal to his next task in the kitchen. There was an apron hanging up, and if Jellal either took it or asked for it then Freed would allow him, but he didn't. Instead, he opened Freed's fridge and pulled out a steak, as well as everything he would need for a salad. He took a pan off a hook, spread oil over it, and heated it over the stove. Once he put the steak on, it would spit fat over his naked body, and he made no move to protect himself. Freed had often wondered if Jellal had more of a pain kink than he let on, and maybe this was a way for him to indulge in it.

Leaning on the wall, he watched Jellal tenderise the steak, season it, then placed it onto the pan. It sizzled and seared, and Jellal browned all sides on a high heat. Once it was turned down to cook fully, he moved to the salad, chopping it, tossing it, and covering it with just the right amount of dressing.

He gave Freed a short glance, and blushed again. He was showing off his skills, Freed realised.

Cute.

Once the stake was cooked, he sliced it thin with perfect knife technique that had Freed a little breathless. Jellal plated the steak salad up, and looked to Freed. Freed simply turned his back and walked towards the playroom again, knowing his sub would follow behind him with his lunch.

In the playroom, Freed sat in his armchair and motioned for Jellal to hand him his food. Once done, Jellal stood with his hands behind his back at Freed's side, waiting for further instructions like a patient, naked butler.

Freed took a forkful of his meal, and felt the heavy sensation of a sub waiting for feedback. Freed gave it him in the form of a satisfied hum and nothing more. But he kept eating, kept enjoying the fruits of Jellal's labour, and that was enough to satisfy any service sub.

"Get me some scotch," Freed instructed. "You know how I like it."

With a nod, Jellal walked to the drinks cabinet in the corner of the playroom. Freed watched as Jellal picked out his favourite bottle. He placed two large ice cubes in a glass, poured over a double of scotch, then ground the rind off of an orange into the glass. He picked up a napkin, placed it on the side table next to Freed's chair, and placed it down for him. Freed picked it up, swirled it in his hand, and took a sip. Perfect.

"Footrest," Freed ordered.

Jellal wordlessly got on his hands and knees in front of Freed, hard muscles naturally flexing and tensing with the movement. Freed took a moment to make him wait, before slamming his booted feet on Jellal's spine, grinning at the momentary wince he let out.

He sat, he ate, and he drank. Jellal did nothing. He stayed on all fours, cock hard against his stomach, needy and untouched, as it would be until Freed dismissed him for the day. Jellal would never complain, never ask for more, never be disappointed.

"Once I've finished eating, you'll deep clean the playroom's en suite," Freed instructed. "A toothbrush will be enough for you, I assume?"

"Yes Sir."

Jellal was a good boy, and Freed would forever be joyous he got to take advantage of that. He pushed his boots down a little harder, and grinned.

Chapter Text

Day 18: Genital Torture (Ballbusting)

Freed x Natsu

"It just really pisses me off, y'know," Natsu ranted as he paced back and forth through the playroom, wearing his regular pants and nothing more. His hard chest flexed as he moved, one hand going through his hair, arm bulging and showing the muscle he possessed. "Like, it's such bull crap how they treat me!"

Freed watched from where he was bound to a St Andrews cross. He was naked, his hard cock bouncing against his stomach. He tracked each and every movement Natsu made, blood pumping in thrill as he experienced Natsu's anger first hand.

It was their first time together where Natsu was taking a more dominant role, and they'd discussed exactly what they both needed from it. Natsu needed a space to get out the anger, and frustration, and adrenaline that he usually didn't have an outlet for. He needed someone who would forget everything he said, and let him do whatever he needed to burn off the fury that he sometimes felt. All Freed needed was a man who could make him scared and turned on in warring, equal measure, and Natsu seemed to be just that man when he was in this mood.

Natsu needed more than a damn stress ball, he had said, and the wordplay had been too good for Freed to pass over.

"It's like half the time everyone's all, 'oh, Natsu's such a dumbass. He doesn't take anything seriously. He's an untrustworthy idiot.'" Natsu exclaimed, turning to Freed. "But then some random evil god, or cult, or dragon turns up and tries to kill everyone, and suddenly it's all 'Send Natsu to the front line, he'll sort it. Put it all on him. We'll make fun of him later, but now we're all one day away from death, it's Natsu time! It's just-Argh!"

With the roar of infuriation, Natsu dropped to one knee in front of Freed, and slammed a fist into his balls without a hint of mercy.

Freed let out a roar ripped straight out of his throat, throwing his head back against the cross as pain flooded his balls. It was a sudden and intense agony that had his eyes pricking with tears immediately, and came from a man who knew how to throw a punch. Freed breathed quick and unsteady, stomach flexing with each inhalation.

Natsu looked up at him, and Freed met the gaze. Natsu's expression was one of a manic sadist, who had just found a new way to inflict pain. He looked down at Freed's balls again, then to his face, then his balls again.

"Okay," Natsu said, face a wide grin now. "Yeah. That felt good. We're gonna be doin' this for a while."

He took Freed's balls in hands, none too lightly, and pulled them down to the bottom of his sac. He looped his fingers around them to trap them low, then rested the knuckles of his other hand against them. He pulled back just an inch, before giving another sharp punch straight to them.

Freed yelled out in agony, fighting against his binds to pull away from the torture. The chains wouldn't let him. Natsu sat back and watched as Freed thrashed through the ripples of pain. He openly laughed as Freed's cock leaked despite it.

He raised his foot and started to gently tap at Freed's balls with the sole of his sandal. After two brutal punches in such fast succession, even the gentleness of the little taps had Freed whining and writhing in a desperate attempt to avoid them. Natsu kept going, grinning like an idiot with every obvious sound of pain Freed let out. He gave one harsher tap and laughed as Freed's balls swung low from the abuse.

Suddenly, Natsu jumped up, and Freed tracked the movement. There was no point to it. All it would achieve would be to let Freed see whatever attack was coming.

"You see, this is what I need. Don't gotta act dumb here because that's the easiest way to have fun. Don't gotta be super serious because it's not that deep. Just gotta vent some shit and punch some balls."

"You don't have to punch them," Freed panted, voice higher than normal.

"Good point. I can kick 'em too."

And he did. He lurched forward and slammed his foot into Freed's balls, dragging out a near-scream of agony. He watched as Freed fell against the cross he was cuffed to, body lax and weak. His balls were red now, and looked painful as hell. The resounding hurt sat heavy and horrid in Freed's stomach, and one look at Natsu told him they weren't anywhere close to being done.

Natsu did a little fake out kick, ending the movement just before it hit Freed, and cackled at the whine and flinch Freed did. He did it two more times, before stepping back and running a hand through his hair again.

"You have no idea how good this feels. Nobody ever wants me to let it out, y'know? Nobody wants to know I actually am a badass, and that having fun doesn't change that. And that I'm smart, too. Smarter than people ever let me be. I'm either the super badass dragon slayer, or the dumbass. Never get to be anything else. Never get to show off when the stakes are low. Never get to put a guy in his place like this," Natsu cracked his knuckles. "Until now."

"Could I have," Freed panted, "A moment to catch my breath."

"Hm. Nah!"

Natsu placed both hands on Freed's shoulders, and slammed his knee into his balls. Freed howled, and Natsu laughed and dragged Freed into a kiss, ruined by Freed's weak sobbing and Natsu's open laughter.

"See. That's another thing. I never get a break. Never get down time, really, so I have to force it to feel relaxed. Because there's always something coming," Natsu stood back. "There's always something coming next, isn't there. The next dark guild. The next dumbass coming for revenge. The next asshole team of whatever-slayers." He turned to Freed with a nasty grin. "The next team trying to take over the guild?"

Freed froze. "Erm-"

"I was really pissed with you when you did that. Didn't even let me fight in the tourney, either. Kinda really unfair, isn't it. Definitely worth a couple punches, don't you think," he took Freed's head in his hands and bobbed it in a nod. "I agree."

He was on his knee again, and slammed his fist into Freed's balls without restraint. "That's for being a dick about the guild."

Another punch. "That's for thinking you were better than us."

A final punch. "And that's for trapping me in runes when I could've been havin' fun!"

Freed was crying now, and the pain seemed to be all there was in the world. He could only see Natsu through tearing eyes, and his limbs shook with the pressure of holding himself up against the cross. He wanted nothing more than to crumple to the ground and cradle his aching, brutalised balls.

Natsu was looking at him, and Freed knew that look all too well. It was the look of a newly found dominant, who was realising how beautiful a man in agony could be. How the peak form of a man was tearful, red, and shaking. How wounds could be like kisses, and cruelty could be kindness.

It wasn't just a blip. Natsu was as much a dom as he was a sub. A perfect, sadomasochist switch.

"Got a deal for ya, Freedy-Boy," Natsu said, kicking off his pants and standing there naked, and resplendently hard. "With my right hand, I'll jerk off. With my left, I squeeze those pretty balls. It keeps going until I cum. Once I do, sessions over." That was good. Freed could handle that. He nodded. "I'm gonna need you to say it."

"I agree. Do it."

"To what?"

Freed glared at him. "Squeeze my nuts until you cum."

Natsu cackled at him. He walked to the side table and used the lube there to slick his cock up. He practically bounded over to Freed, stroking himself as he did. He looked needy and close. He wouldn't last long. Freed just had to hold on. Just endure the hell that was about to come to him.

No problem.

But Natsu was vicious. He grabbed Freed by the balls and squeezed tight and firm. He jerked off fast and gripped even tighter. His thumb pushed into Freed's balls, kneading them and pummelling them without mercy. Freed thrashed and moaned and pleaded for mercy he knew he wouldn't get and didn't want anyway.

Natsu laughed and squeezed tighter. Freed bucked his hips and roared out unintelligible noises. Natsu pumped his cock faster and faster, fucking his fist and rolling his hips like this was the greatest pleasure he could ever feel. He squeezed and jerked and laughed.

Freed just cried, lost to the pain and the beauty of it.

A roar not belonging to Freed filled the room, followed fast by an eruption of hot cum hitting him on the chest and dripping down his stomach. The grip on his balls went away immediately, and soon enough the cuffs around his wrists were gone. Natsu helped him out from the cross, and set him on the cushioned ground. An ice pack was pressed gently on his balls, and Natsu smiled a soft smile. Aftercare came natural to him, too.

"Sadism becomes you, Natsu," Freed panted, voice weak.

"Better be a compliment."

"One of the best I can give in this room," Freed assured him.

"So we could do this again sometimes? Maybe, I dunno, once every other month. Just to…"

"Get it out of your system?" Freed offered, and Natsu nodded. "I think I'd enjoy that. Perhaps we can test out your proficiency with a crop."

"You want me to crop your balls?" Natsu sounded excited.

"You'd be the dominant; you'd be able to crop, whip, and hurt any part of me you wish," Freed grinned. Natsu beamed at him.

"Awesome," he hopped up, leaving Freed to hold the ice pack. Natsu stood above Freed, legs spread a little, and grinned. "Come on, get in a revenge shot, even the scores a little. Unless you're still in a subby mood. Not sure how- FUCK!"

Freed slammed his fist into Natsu's spent balls, and sent him falling to the floor. Natsu rolled around, cupping his sac, and cursing both Freed and himself for inviting such a hit. But the cursing soon became laughing, and Freed had to laugh too. Soon enough they were laughing, kissing, and wincing any time the other grazed their balls.

This new dynamic was weird, ridiculous, and sinfully thrilling.

Chapter Text

Day 19: Sensory Deprivation

Freed x Gajeel

The coin landed on heads, and Gajeel let out a sigh that was probably meant to sound resigned. Freed knew better. He and Gajeel played with each other often enough for Freed to know exactly what mood Gajeel was in, and could easily guess who would be subbing. Gajeel was a king at slightly manipulating a coin before he tossed it, changing the weight balance so that it landed in line with his desires.

And today, Gajeel desired to be dominated.

Freed smiled at him almost pleasantly, and handed him the hair tie that sat on the table beside the coin. As Gajeel pulled his hair into a tight ponytail, Freed got to work unbuckling the straps of the newly modified bondage hood. The hood that Gajeel would be 'testing' for the next hour.

It was a beautiful thing, made of black leather and with a goal of total sensory depravation. It blocked the eyes with thick fabric, the nose had holes only just large enough to breathe through, and the mouth was covered by a small screw on plate of Gajeel's design. The plate allowed toys to be attached, which would be forced into the wearers mouth for as long as they wore the hood, as a sort of gag. Freed screwed on a three inch thick, bright pink dildo, and presented it to Gajeel.

Neither needing words, Freed slid the hood over Gajeel's head. He put the ponytail through the designated gap in the leather, then forced Gajeel to take every inch of the dildo, checked for breathing capabilities, and stepped back. Gajeel would not be able to see, hear, smell, or taste anything at all. All he could do was feel.

When Gajeel subbed, he liked it rough and he liked it intense. So Freed waited to make him squirm, before shoving him hard in the chest and sending him stumbling to the floor with a heavily muffled yell. Freed was on him within a moment, straddling him and pinning him down, overpowering him. He pinned Gajeel's hands to the side of his head in a position just awkward enough to be uncomfortable, before knocking his knees apart. Gajeel let it all happen, breathing heavily.

That was one of Freed's favourite things about Dragon Slayers. They were so reliant on their heightened senses, that when you deprived them, they got beautifully pliant.

He released the pin, knowing that Gajeel wouldn't move his hands now Freed had established control. He slid his hands under Gajeel's shirt, cold hands feeling Gajeel's firm, scarred abs and sending chills down him. His sliding movements were sporadic and random, with no logic to them and no hope of Gajeel being able to guess where they would go next.

To keep him on his toes, he did something Gajeel would be angry at later. He took Gajeels's shirt in hand, and tore it in two. The rip and tear wouldn't reach Gajeel's ears, but the drag of suddenly torn fabric would tell him what had happened, and his lagging brain would eventually catch up.

It was a clear message. Gajeel did not get to know what was happening. He didn't even get to guess.

Now his toy was shirtless, Freed took Gajeel's nipples between fingernails, and twisted them both with vicious glee. It was revenge for their previous session, with the clamps. But Freed didn't linger. Instead, he took the bottom cuffs of Gajeel's pants, and started to pull them off, holding them high in the air so Gajeel had no choice but to raise his legs, his ass rising off the ground. Once they were gone, Gajeel was left in just the hood and his tight little boxers, hard as a rock and breathing like a freight train.

For the next five minutes, Freed barely touched him. He walked around him, stepping firm enough for Gajeel to feel the vibrations of his footsteps. He nudged Gajeel with the toe of his boots sometimes. Gajeel didn't once move. He knew better. He was good for Freed.

Deciding he'd toyed with the man long enough for it to feel like an eternity, Freed stood over Gajeel, and simply sat on his stomach, putting his entire weight on him. Gajeel grunted at the sudden heft, and Freed grinned. Then he began to slap Gajeel. Not his face, the leather was too thick, but anywhere else he pleased. His chest, his sides, his thighs, and on a few instances his lovely pierced cock. He repeated slaps in the same places again and again, leaving beautiful red marks that sung testament to Freed's relentless strikes.

He stood up again, and hooked his booted toes under Gajeel, and nudged him again and again until Gajeel rolled over, ass firm and clenched. Freed would be kind soon enough, so it gave him just enough justification to be cruel.

Without warning, he slammed the sole of his boot into Gajeel's firm left cheek. A brutal stomp, that had Gajeel trying to turn over and roll into a ball to protect himself. Freed kept his foot there, holding him down. The tread of Freed's boot was barely visible on his ass, but visible nonetheless.

Next, he reached for a chilled bottle of water, uncapped it, and simply emptied it over Gajeel. The shock had Gajeel choking on the toy in his mouth, and Freed wondered what he felt. What he might think the water was. What he thought might be next.

One more nasty thing, then he would be nice.

He took a large candle that stood in the corner of the room, that had a wonderful pool of wax ready and waiting to be used. He took it over, grazed a nail down Gajeel's balls as a warning, before pouring the wax over them. Gajeel roared, but he could take it, and Freed let his man fester for a moment in the searing pain of burning balls, before wiping them clean. He wanted to hurt him, not injure him. A kind dominant he certainly was.

Gajeel panted and heaved as he steadied himself through the pain. They'd both given each other more, and had smiled through it, but the fear of not knowing what came next would be making everything one hundred times more intense.

Now, it was time to use that intensity to make Gajeel feel good.

Gajeel had naturally moved to an all-fours position when his balls had been waxed, and it was perfect for what Freed wanted to do. He gave Gajeel a firm slap on the ass, exasperating the resounding sting from his stomp, then spread Gajeel's cheeks wider. He got in position, blew a soft breath into Gajeel's greedy hole, then started to lick.

Muffled moans and groans barely breeched the hood, and Freed showed no mercy. He used every trick his clever tongue had. He knew exactly where to lick. How far in to go. Where Gajeel's prostate was. How much he could take before he got to the point of no return.

He teased and edged Gajeel relentlessly, cycling through every technique he had.

Slow, long licks.

A barrage of quick lapping.

Burying his face deep while squeezing Gajeel's cheeks so hard it must had stung.

But he never let him cum. They'd agreed an hour, and an hour of edging was exactly what Gajeel deserved today. Freed gave him just that. He knew his partner like a book and knew exactly how far to take him. So close. So close to making him cum on the floor, clenching and hot and needy. So close to release.

And he always pulled back. Gave him a bit of pain as the denial coursed through him. A slap to the rear. A drop of wax on the spine. A kick, when Gajeel seemed particularly close to cumming. A wonderful balance of pain and pleasure.

The clock chimed on the turn of an hour, and Freed smiled. He shoved Gajeel's side and had him on his back again. He sat between Gajeel's legs, spread them wide with firm hands, then lowered his head and took every studded inch of the man in his mouth, throat closing tight around the thick girth.

He sucked like the master he was, holding Gajeel's leg still and driving the man crazy. Gajeel tried to buck up into it, but the position Freed held him in didn't allow it. Not that he needed anything else.

Freed didn't edge him this time, and let Gajeel spurt hot and heavy into his mouth. He drank in every drop, relishing the slightly metallic salty taste, before Gajeel's limbs fell lax in the clear sign of a spent man.

Acting quickly, Freed gave Gajeel three firm pats on the cheek, their chosen sign that the mask was going to be removed. He undid the buckles, softened out the leather, and started to release him. Once his eyes were visible, Gajeel blinked a few times, and Freed helped him take the toy out of his mouth. It was slicked with a hell of a lot of spit and looked obscene in the most wonderful way.

Once the hood was off fully, Freed helped Gajeel swallowing some water. Gajeel grinned at him.

"Hood works," he said, a laugh in his throaty voice.

"It does." Freed agreed. "I never doubted your craftsmanship."

He helped Gajeel up, and watched as he dressed himself when he was steady on his feet. Freed produced a backup shirt that Gajeel could wear to walk home – one that suited his style while also being snug enough for Freed to appreciate the sight of it – and soon enough it looked like Gajeel had never been seen to at all. Gajeel said he had to leave soon, and Freed wished him well. But Gajeel lingered momentarily.

"One more thing, before I go," Gajeel said.

Before Freed could ask, Gajeel grabbed him and pulled him into a heated kiss. It was tow curling in it's intensity, but Freed didn't trust it. True enough, Gajeel used the kiss to tear Freed's own shirt in two. He walked off cackling, two fingers raised in the air, leaving Freed panting.

Freed laughed.

Chapter Text

Day 20: Mirror Sex

Freed x Jet

Lit by candles that flickered quietly in the stillness of the playroom, Freed slowly turned Jet to face the mirror. He pressed soft kisses to the back of his neck, hands running down his sides in what he hoped was enough sensuality to let Jet get lost in the moment.

A quick glance up showed Jet with his head back, eyes closed, face blissed out. A beautiful look for him, but not the point. The point was that Jet should be seeing that side of himself.

"Eyes open, sweetheart," Freed whispered. Jet made a noise of complaint. "I want you to see yourself like this."

"I don't," Jet sighed.

"Hence why I'm in charge," Freed smiled, wrapping his arms tight around Jet's waist, to drive in the point. "Eyes open."

Seemingly with difficulty, Jet opened his eyes. Illuminated by flame, he was met with a wall of mirrors that usually were hidden by curtains during their play sessions. Jet was reflected in all of them. His clothes were a little mussed and ruffled, his cheeks red with a flush, and his eyes just a little manic. It was exactly as Freed loved having him.

As he sucked and bit at Jet's neck, he started to unbutton his shirt. Button by button, Jet's firm, tight chest was revealed. He slid the fabric down Jet's arms, leaving him shirtless and exposed to his own eyes.

"Keep them open," Freed instructed, hands roaming over Jet's firm stomach from behind. "Tell me what you see."

Jet whined. "I can't."

Too much too fast. Fair enough. "Then let me tell you what I see," Freed purred, pressing little kisses all along Jet's jaw from behind. "I see a beautiful, toned, taut little body, all riled up and waiting for me. I see a stomach sculpted from the imagination of the gods, and a chest so wonderfully defined that a twisted part of me wants to ruin it, just so nobody else can so much as glance at it."

Jet whined a cute little noise, and Freed lowered his hands and undid the fly of Jet's pants. He slid them down, kissing down Jet's spine as he lowered himself. Jet stepped out of them, his cock bouncing now freed from the fabric.

"I see a body that was meant to be fucked," Freed continued, gently rubbing his clothed crotch against the curve of Jet's bare ass. "And you might disagree, but I can assure you that anyone who has ever seen you like this would want nothing more than to have you, Jet. Nothing more than to give you the pleasure you're meant to feel."

"Just sayin' things," Jet slurred.

"No, I'm telling you what you can't yet see," he wrapped his arms around Jet's waist, grazing a soft knuckle down the straining hardness of his dick. "But you will. I'll see to that, no matter how long it takes."

"… take forever."

"Then I'll have a splendid eternity with you in my arms, won't I?" He dug his fingers into Jet's waist and began to kiss the back of his neck again. "But it wont take that long, not with how I see you. Not with eyes that look like that."

"Like what?"

"Like a hungry beast waiting to be tamed," Freed grinned, rolling his hips slowly. "Like every moment of every day, there's this animal lurking in you. One that wants to pound, and rage, and brat, but to ultimately submit. To let a man take care of you, and own you, and take you in his arms however he pleases." He scratched a hand down Jet's chest and felt the man shiver. "You hide it with smirks and quips and speed, but I see you, Jet. I see the man you try to hide."

"What man?"

"The man who keeps coming back to me. The man who quivers under my touch. The man who knows exactly what noises to make to drive me to distraction," Freed slid his hands down Jet's torso, and cupped his balls. He rolled them around his fingers, feeling Jet pushing back into him. "A man who can think with his cock, and looks positively regal doing it."

Jet shuddered out a breath. "Fuck me, Freed."

"Of course, Darling," Freed promised. "But keep those eyes open."

Freed stepped back, and stripped off quickly. He pulled a bottle of self-heating lube from a counter and spread some on his fingers, before gently pushing Jet towards the wall of mirrors. With a whispered instruction, he had Jet lean against the mirrors with both hands, his back curved and his ass out for Freed to enjoy. His eyes were still open, and Freed felt a shot of pride when he caught him looking at himself.

He slid a finger down Jet's spine, then lower, until it grazed over Jet's sensitive hole. He slid over it, before breaching it. Jet whined melodiously, his forehead resting against the glass of the mirror. He kept his eyes open.

Practiced and skilful, Freed began to stretch out Jet. First one finger, then two. He spread them and widened Jet, licking and kissing at Jet's back as he did so. A third and fourth finger soon was parting him fully. He curled his fingers and stretched him wide, a grin splitting his features when Jet pushed into it. He stroked his dry hand down Jet's back to settle him, before burning his lips back to Jet's ears.

"You're beautiful, Jet," he whispered. "And I want you to see yourself how I see you."

"How do you-ohhhfuckk."

Jet's slurred words coincided with Freed sliding his lubed dick into him, deep and slow. Jet pushed his plump ass up against Freed, and Freed held his waist tight to keep him there. Jet's jaw was slack and his expression blissful, and Freed was so fucking proud when he saw Jet still had his eyes wide open.

He kicked Jet's legs a little wider, his dick stroking Jet's prostate with the new angle. Jet's expression grew cloudy and hazy, head pushing into the mirror and hair a mess of sweat. Still, he looked at himself. His quivering body. His wide eyes. His face a damn picture of wonderment. Freed gave just the smallest of thrusts, and Jet groaned the low purr of a majestic lion.

Jet tried to rut further back into him. Tried to fuck himself on Freed's dick. He looked needy and wanton and desperate for a fuck. This was how Freed saw Jet. This was beauty. This was perfection.

"Don't," Jet panted, pushing his ass back as much as he could. "Don't drag it out. Can't keep lookin'…"

"Okay, sweetheart," Freed whispered.

He began to move his hips. Slow, but strong. Perfect gyrations that would drive any man wild. He interlaced his fingers with Jet's, keeping him pinned to the mirror with his eyes open. They could both see everything. See the strength of Freed pushing into Jet. See Jet's writhing, sweaty body as he surrendered into pleasure. See the look of a man on the brink of mindlessness, but grounded by the movement of his own body in the mirror.

Freed wished Jet saw the moment how he did. He wished that Jet could see this was a moment of masculine beauty, of two bodies becoming one. He wished Jet could see how perfectly, wonderfully open he really was. Firm body, wavering cock, awestruck expression.

In this moment, Jet was artwork, and it would be a tragedy if he couldn't see it.

"Ohmygod," Jet said, the words seemingly burning out his throat.

He felt it a moment before it happened. The clenching of a tight ass around his dick as Jet bucked his hips wild and free, cumming over the mirror without so much as touching himself. The splatter of his cum trailed down the mirror, warping their reflections. Freed stroked the rest of the orgasm out of Jet, humping himself to completion while catching Jet's eyes in the mirror.

Jet pushed into him, almost collapsing into Freed. Freed held him up, knowing that Jet's shaking thighs would soon give out under him. This session was intense – having Jet look at himself and see himself as he truly was – and his sub was about to drop. He had been so strong, and so good for Freed, and he needed to know how proud Freed was. But Jet didn't like words in moments like this. He liked to let his fast, clever mind conclude whatever he needed to.

Wordlessly, he pulled out of Jet, helped him stand up straight, and turned him around. He pulled Jet into his chest, a strong embrace that would hold him up for as long as he needed to be held.

In reality, Jet wouldn't suddenly see his worth and his beauty. But it would happen eventually. Freed would ensure it. Jet would see his worth, and Freed would get him there. One fuck at a time.

Chapter Text

Day 21: Monster Fucking

Freed x Elfman

In a forest on the outskirts of Magnolia, two monsters faced each other.

A demon and a beast.

The demon stood tall, with thick fur covering its strong chest. Ink and feathers were marred together, and muscles rippled with every movement. A mane of thick green hair shot up in jagged shapes, bordered by warped and gnarled purple horns. Scales covered its face, and fangs glinted in the sunlight. A hefty cock of eleven inches swung low and firm, leaking with precum and plumping with anticipation.

The beast snarled as magic danced off its green scales. It was reptilian, and sharp in all senses. It was practically double the side of the demon, and exuded power and strength with boulder-like muscles. Its spine was covered in thick white fur, and its eyes were that of a predator. Its own cock, huge and twitching, was ready to dominate.

A game was in play. A game of power and domination. A hunt. A savage war. A fuck between monsters in the brambles and the mud.

In the silence of the forest, the two monsters looked at each other, sizing each other up. A battle for dominance would soon be afoot, and the prize was the brutal fuck they both craved. The demon rolled its shoulders, stretching its muscles and limbering up for the rush that was to come. The beast lowered itself on all fours, saliva sliding from its teeth and pooling on the undergrowth.

"Ready yourself," The demon instructed, and the beast spat in his direction. "The hunt is on."

With its words, the demon fizzled into runes and teleported itself to the middle thickness of the forest. The beast had been teleported too, to an equally random and secluded place. With scent and sound, they were to track one another, with victory coming in the form of a pliant monster spilling seed in the dirt, desperate and needy. One monster would dominate, the other would submit. There were no other options.

The demon began to run through the forest, sharp ears hearing unnatural moving of something trampling through the undergrowth. The beast was heavy footed and inelegant, and it would be its downfall.

Quick and powerful, the demon followed the sound of heavy movement. It's warped, naked body brushed against thorns and branches, mud squelching under it as it ran towards its prey. It stepped as lightly as it could, landing on the softness of mud, or roots that breached the ground so that it would not give out the same clues as the beast. This would be easy. Savage, aggressive, and easy.

With no warning, a shadow lurched from the undergrowth, pounced on the demon and pinned it down. The demon thrashed as green-scaled claws dug into its skin, and drool leaked over its face. It looked up with hatred at the beast, which seemed to be smiling a hunters smile.

The demon flipped them over, muscles burning with the effort to remove the behemoth. It pushed the beast into the mud, feeling the sting of nettles on its bare body as it pushed the beast down further.

Brutally, the beast swiped at it, and knocked the demon off. They leapt at each other in tandem, wrestling and rolling in the dirt as they tried to overpower one another. The demon punched and bit, the beast grappled and flipped. Every option was on the table. Crotch shots. Skull punches. Lacerations. Monstrous behaviour from monstrous men, where victory was all that mattered.

As they fought for victory, their cocks rutted against each other, hard and leaking.

In power, the beast would be undefeated. But the demon was clever. Tricksy. Evil. It allowed the beast to flip him, and accepted being shoved face first into the muck as the cost of victory. The demon let the beast pin him, but raised its ass. It ground into the beast's struggling cock, and the demon gyrated its hips to rub teasingly against the leaking member.

The beast, fool that it was, lost concentration.

Fast and vicious, the demon pushed the beast back. It took full advantage of the beasts dazed state, and shoved him face first into the ground. The beast was bent over a protruding, warped branch in a perfect arch, and the demon laughed an echoing laugh. It cast a spell, and runic binds wrapped around the beast's wrists, dragging it down deep into the ground. The demon took the beast's head, and buried it's face in the mud, just because it knew it could.

"Motherfucker," The beast snarled at it, and the demon laughed.

"Weak bitch," The demon retorted, and kicked the beast's legs wide and revealed its tight, waiting hole. "Say thank you and I'll go gentle."

"Fuck off!" The beast roared, fighting against the magical binds as if he had any hope of escape.

But this was the game, and the game had been won. The demon was the victor, and the beast knew the risk. More runes coiled around the beast, wrapping tight around its legs and pulling them far enough apart that it had to hurt like fuck. The demon raked a clawed hand down the beast's scales, watching as it shivered in lust. It really was a weak bitch, and the demon would relish making use of that.

No mercy nor restraint was needed. The demon lined its huge cock with the beast's hole and fucked into it brutally. Every damn inch of it was pushed deep and hard, and the beast snarled into the mud in agony and lust. The beast was a bitch, and loved this treatment. It loved every second of it. The humiliation and the pain and the defeat. The demon knew what the beast needed, and it was to be hunted and claimed.

"You're my bitch," The demon growled, rutting into the beast hard.

"Fuck you!" The beast roared.

"You want my cock like a cheap slut, and you know it," The demon piled on as it grabbed the beast's parted thighs and dug in its claws. "Fucking waste of breath bitch!"

The beast just snarled at him but pushed its ass back in time with a thrust. It was learning it's place. It was learning it's usefulness. It was learning it's role in the order of man, monster, and fuck toy.

"Say you're my bitch," The demon demanded, thrusting with his whole weight. The beast was shunted into the branch that had to hurt against its aching, needy cock. The beast said nothing, though, so the demon slapped him hard on the ass and took him rougher still. "Say you're my goddamn bitch, Elfman!"

"No," The beast growled.

"It's what you are. A bitch. A cock slut. A sleeve." Freed punctuated each word with a nasty thrust, pummelling the beast's ass raw and nasty. Every hit slammed into the beast's prostate, dragging out mud-gargled moans and sobs. "You're not a fucking man at all. Just a goddamn bitch!"

A roar and a shudder overtook the beast, and it rutted hard against the demon's cock. The beast thrashed and moaned and thrusted and humped. It threw its head back, arched itself in a perfect curve, and clenched so tight around the demon's plunging cock.

The demon slapped and clawed and beat the beast as it rode out it's orgasm. The beast's obvious pleasure as it was put in its place spoke to the demon primally, and it grabbed the split thighs tighter and gave the roughest fucking imaginable. Strike after strike after strike. It ripped apart the scaled hole and claimed it with hot, brimstone cum that had the beast roaring in pain and pleasure. It kept fucking, dumping every drop of its seed into the beast and making it his bitch in every damn sense of the word.

As fast as the feeling came, it went, and silence descended on the forest again.

The demon pulled out, dispelled the binds, and stepped back from the beast. The beat shone with magic, and shrank back into Elfman's body. He was wrecked with claw marks, bite marks, and cum leaking from his ass. He looked blissfully mindless, and his cock was still half hard despite apparently having spilled every drop of cum his balls held onto the root of the tree.

Following suit, the demon shone with magic too, and Freed stood in it's place. The two men, naked and dirty and battered, looked at each other for a moment while they caught their breath. Their meetings like this were once a year, and allowed an itch to be scratched. Something primal and monstrous lurked in them both, and this let them indulge.

"Holding my head in the mud was kinda bullshit," Elfman eventually said, and Freed laughed.

"I found it fun. I'm sure you'll try doing it to me next year," Freed shrugged, and looked around. "The house is this way."

Elfman followed him, walking towards where clothes, a hot bath, and shelter were waiting. He stepped in toe with Freed. "There's a lot I'm gonna be doin' next year."

Freed nearly stumbled when Elfman's big, battered hand squeezed his ass firm, and the shock turned to a conspiratorial laugh. "I look forward to it. Bitch."

"I'll show you who's a bitch," Elfman muttered, before shoving Freed full force to the side, directly into a dirty puddle of stagnant water. Freed stared up at him, surprise turning to heated satisfaction as Elfman pounced on him and kissed him. Heated, dominant, and monstrous.

Their hunt was not yet over. Either way, Freed would win.

Chapter Text

Day 22: Gunplay

Freed x Alzack

"You're clear on safewords, and the rules of play," Freed said, sliding his fingers down the barrel of Alzack's gun. It was heavier than he had expected, and harsher to touch. It would be perfect. "The moment you want us to stop, you tell me and I'll stop."

"I understand," Alzack said quietly, looking nervous.

Of all the men Freed had expected might one day enter his playroom, Alzack had never been considered. Married and with a child, he seemed like the last person to need his services, but both he and his wife had come to his home with a revalation and a request. Alzack had a submissive side, and a fantasy he couldn't shake and his wife couldn't make real. They wanted Freed to take Alzack into the playroom, make the fantasy real.

And what a fantasy it was, too. Alzack didn't do things by halves, it seemed. Wanting to be held at gunpoint and 'forced' to fuck was not a fantasy for beginners.

But Freed was not the type to turn down a kinky man in need. He, Alzack and Bisca had a long conversation about how it would all work, what the limits of their dynamic had to be, and exactly what Alzack would be expected to do. He'd then taken one of Alzack's guns, spent a week learning how to use it, and readied their roleplay.

"Are you ready to begin, then?" Freed asked.

Alzack took a moment to think, then nodded. "Yes, I'm ready."

In that moment, Freed changed. His face glazed over and turned into an impassive glare. The modern suit, high ponytail, and false glasses added to a character he was playing. Maybe it was a mobster, maybe an assassin, maybe a career criminal. But there was separation from the Freed Alzack had known, and created a fantasy to indulge in. Alzack breathed in a little breath, sensing the shift in mood, and Freed smirked.

He raised the gun, flicked off the safety, and pressed it right into Alzack's forehead. If he pulled the trigger, the man would drop dead, and the danger had both men fizzing with anticipation.

"Strip."

Alzack didn't move for a moment, his eyes dancing over his own gun. Guns were a rarity, and Alzack likely never had been held at gunpoint before. The feeling of a cold, muffled barrel against his head – moments away from snuffing out his life – clearly had him hot and horny. Freed pushed the gun forward, making Alzack stumble back a little. The gasp and flush of his cheeks were wonderful. He was a natural sub, and Freed would relish this.

"Are you stupid?" Freed snapped. "When I tell you to strip, you take your damn clothes off. So, take," he pushed the gun forward, "your damn," he stepped into Alzack's space, face snarling, "clothes off."

A shuddering breath seemed to break the trance Alzack was in. He, with hands shaking with anticipation and perhaps a little fear, shrugged his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. His body was tight, abs flexing with each breath and nipples hard in the coldness of the room. He shivered and shuddered, nervousness coiling around him so obviously that Freed almost felt bad. But their time in planning their roleplay made it clear that Alzack was turned on by nerves.

Next, his pants went to the ground, leaving him standing in thin, grey, bulging briefs. His cock was wonderfully fat, and the briefs were such a sheer fabric Freed could see the veins through it. They weren't a typical pair. They had been worn for Freed's benefit, and Freed would not rush past that.

"Stop!" Freed snapped when Alzack went to remove the briefs. "Hands on your head. Now."

Alzack rushed to obey, the first flush of nerves dissipating with the duty of following orders. Freed pulled back the gun and circled Alzack, never once letting the gun point anywhere other than at him. Alzack really was quite handsome when shivering and pent up. A tight ass, long legs, a lightly muscled back, and a needy expression that occasionally parted for genuine fear.

When Freed was in front of Alzack again, he lowered the gun. Just for the fun of it, he pointed it right at Alzack's crotch. Alzack moaned, so Freed pushed on. He nudged it with the barrel of the gun, watching it bounce in the satin briefs.

"You enjoying this?" Freed asked, dragging the gun across Alzack's cock and watching as a stain of precum leaked into the briefs.

"Yes," Alzack gasped.

"I'll take a yes sir, goddamn it," Freed snarled, placing the gun right against Alzack's chest and pushing him back. He kept pushing, and Alzack could do nothing but walk backwards until he was pressed into Freed's St Andrews cross. He would look good in bondage, Freed thought, but that hadn't been discussed so it would have to wait. Now, he had a gun and a boy who salivated over the threat. Freed flicked the safety back on as subtly as he could as not to break the fantasy, and placed his finger on the trigger. "I asked you a question!"

"Yes sir, I'm enjoying it, sir," Alzack panted, perfect little sub in the making.

"Well then, you fuckin' pervert," Freed snapped, finding his stride in the role now. "Get those slutty fuckin' briefs off and get on your knees."

Alzack rushed to obey, and practically threw his briefs across the room, before dropping to his knees with a resounding thud. His fat cock wasn't the longest, but it strained hard and pretty, hitting up against his firm stomach with the aftershocks of movement.

Freed sauntered over him, cocked the gun and pressed it right against his forehead. He looked down at Alzack, Alzack looked up at him. Freed lowered the gun so it rested on his lips, and grinned. "Suck."

Alzack shuddered. "You want me to-"

"I don't want you to do anything. I am telling you to wrap those pretty, straight boy lips around the barrel of your own gun and suck it like you're going to be sucking my cock quite soon," he pushed the gun so that it parted Alzack's lips, and watched as the man's jaw dropped naturally. "Think of it like a rehearsal, with an edge."

The lure of threat seemed to be aphrodisiac enough for Alzack. He wrapped his lips around the barrel of the gun, cold metal forcing his jaw wide. He pushed himself down as far as he could, maybe taking three inches of it before it looked like he was struggling. Freed placed a hand on the back of Alzack's head, held him in place and pushed the gun perhaps an inch deeper. His cheeks went red and he gagged, and Freed found the sweet spot. That's how far he could fuck his victim's mouth, and he would find it joyous to do so.

He yanked the gun out of Alzack's mouth so fast the metal must have burned his tongue, and he was left gaping with his mouth open, looking up at Freed with wide, hungry eyes. Would his wife be glad to learn he was a natural born cocksucker, Freed wondered.

"Take out my cock, and suck me," Freed demanded, then rammed the gun into Alzack's temple, finger on the trigger. "And you're going to rub that little thing you call a dick until you cum. Because I will only cum when you realise that you belong on your knees with a gun to your head. And this doesn't end until I cum."

Alzack, dazed and panting and leaking so prettily, nodded.

He undid Freed's fly and pulled his cock out. He looked at it for a long moment, and it was probably the first time he'd held another man's cock in his hand. Freed pushed the gun harder into his skull, and it jolted Alzack back into the moment. He shifted on his knees, his rapid breaths hitting Freed's cock head on. He gently, tentatively took hold of it, slowly lowered his head, and opened his mouth. He didn't take the cock in his mouth, though, and Freed was getting impatient.

Mercilessly, he shoved his cock deep into Alzack's mouth, and the garbled gag was music to his ears. He watched as Alzack's eyes blew wide at the thickness suddenly buried in him, and saw in real time as bliss overtook him.

Rocking his hips, Freed began to fuck Alzack's face nice and slow. His mouth was warm, his tongue unmoving, and his teeth sometimes grazed Freed's dick. He didn't know what to do, but his lips were wrapped tight and he kept sucking, and as inelegant and untrained as he was, he was driving Freed mad.

"Didn't I tell you to touch yourself," Freed demanded. "You belong on your knees like this, Alzack, and you're going to learn that."

Alzack was grasping his cock instantly, jerking off and humping his fist with full body moves. As soon as he found his rhythm with his fist, he found one with his mouth. His teeth were contracted, his sucking more intentioned, and his tongue started to lick. Not perfect, but so fucking eager that Freed wanted nothing more than to slap him in praise. Perfect little straight boy, no longer.

Humping and sucking, Alzack leaned into the gun, pushing it hard against his head. He needed the danger, needed the threat and the fantasy. The reliance on the lie had Freed's balls retracting and pleasure rising hot in his stomach.

"I could make you do anything," Freed panted, hammering his cock into Alzack's mouth, balls slapping against his chin. "I could fuck you and you'd let me, could make you tell me all your fantasies, make you stay as my toy for as long as I want," He pushed the gun further against Alzack. "Could hit you. Kick you. Train you to cum just from a beating. You'd like that, wouldn't you straight boy?"

Alzack moaned and tried to take Freed's dick in deeper. His humping and fist fucking went manic and twitchy, and Freed knew Alzack wouldn't last long. He gave faster thrusts and pummelled Alzack's mouth without mercy, pulling on his hair while pushing the gun against him.

"Fucking cocksucker. You're a disgrace!"

Moaning around Freed's cock, Alzack gave a final full body shudder before shooting thick ropes of cum over Freed's legs and shoes. He shook and groaned and sucked, all while shooting load after load.

Freed knew he didn't have long before Alzack's adrenaline wore off. He gave three final slow thrusts into his mouth, drawing out obscene gags each time. Then he pulled his cock out, jerked it furiously, and shot his load onto the floor. His head threw back, his eyes glazed over, and his nerves burned in pleasure. He shook slightly and glanced at Alzack, who was kneeling still with a soft dick, looking at Freed with something close to reverence.

Both with drained balls, they caught their breath. Alzack spoke first. "I think I might be bi."

There had been a joking lilt in his voice, but Freed smiled gently. "If you and your wife explore that side of you, I think you'd be very popular."

Alzack smiled bashfully. "I should probably talk to her," he said softly. "Thank you."

"It was a pleasure," Freed assured him, and handed him his spit slicked gun. "One I'd like to repeat, should you ever find need of me."

Alzack took his gun, that had been pressed against him and sucked by him, and smiled. "Maybe I will."

Freed hoped he would. But if he didn't, then that would be okay. Alzack had realised he also liked men, and that he was naturally submissive. Helping him find that out had been a pleasure, and doing so with a sucked cock and a loaded gun only made it better. Asking for more… would just be selfish.

Chapter Text

Day 23: Praise Kink

Freed x Laxus

Laxus was, in a word, wrecked.

Freed hadn't shown him a scrap of mercy for the entire day, nor had he asked for it. From the moment the clock had struck midnight, Freed had begun his endless torture. He'd first bound Laxus to the ceiling with rope, a spreader bar keeping his legs spread wide. He'd attacked him with a crop all over. His legs, chest, stomach, back, and balls had bore the brunt of a sharp lashing that had been as endless as it had been brutal.

Then there had been the wax. Droplets of it, hot and burning, had trailed down his body and burned him, crusting over into hardness. Laxus had roared and thrashed and taken it so prettily and so obediently.

Next, Freed had let out a barrage of punches, each coming with an insult to the kind of man Laxus was. Everything from his morals to his cock size had been insulted, and Laxus had been given no choice but to take it, swinging limply in his bounds. He'd sobbed and begged and made demands of his master that he knew would never be followed.

Throughout the day, Freed had never once let up his ferocity. He'd fucked Laxus raw, beat him in any way he saw fit, and used any toy in his arsenal. Anal hooks, ball stretchers, sensory hoods and even a sounding rod. The toys that Freed would never normally get to use were let loose on his personal, obedient little slave. There were no limits to this day, no torment too far for his slave to take, and Laxus could do nothing but let his body be used for sick, violent pleasure.

Not once, not for a moment in the eighteen long hours that Freed had battered, bruised and brutalised him, had Laxus' cock softened.

But now, torment was done. Laxus had endured his request for Freed to go all out on him, and not once had he used his safeword, or shown anything other than total and desperate lust for more. A pain slut, a submissive, and a whore all in one. Freed was so fucking proud of him, he nearly cried.

He untied the ropes that had been holding Laxus, and helped him lower his arms safely. Once the cuffs of the spreader bar were removed, Freed helped Laxus stand upright as he shook out his aching, battered muscles.

"You were so good for me," Freed whispered, taking a bottle of muscle relaxant lotion and rubbing it all over Laxus' torso. "I'm so proud of you, Dragon. You were wonderful."

At the words, Laxus had the exact same expression he had when Freed had punched him in the gut. Blissful, proud, and relaxed. He leant into Freed, resting his forehead against the crook of Freed's neck as his muscles came back to life under the magical lotions humming warmth.

"You were so strong," Freed continued, helping Laxus to the large bathroom attached to the playroom. "You took your beating so well. You looked magnificent."

"You looked magnificent," Laxus parroted in a murmur. "Love seeing you sadistic."

"We're not speaking of me right now, Dragon," Freed said, placing a soft kiss to the side of Laxus' head. "But thank you."

Freed opened the door to the bathroom, where a heavy layer of warming steam welcomed them. A bath had been prepared for them in the huge, claw footed tub, the temperature kept firm by runes around the perimeter. A bath bomb had fizzled into a thick layer of bubbles, scented exactly how Laxus liked it, with the usual scents of Freed's chosen cologne and soaps. One of the more melodious of Laxus' playlists hummed out of the speaker system, and once Freed shut the door behind them, there was nothing but the softness of aftercare to envelop them. He felt Laxus relax into him, and smiled.

"Yer spoiling me," Laxus slurred slightly.

"You have more than earned it," Freed assured him. "I know how much it took for you to let me do that. How hard it was to give up so much power for so long, and you did it magnificently. You took every hit and insult and game, and I know you wanted to safeword a few times and you managed not to, and I'm so proud of you. You looked so pretty."

Laxus blushed and rubbed up against Freed, cock hardening somehow despite the six orgasms that had ripped him apart since the day had begun. Freed should have expected it.

Ever since their first session, Laxus had yearned for praise. To be told he was impressive, and beautiful, and right. He would hide it by bluster, and macho bravado, and demands for more pain and more torment, but behind it all, he wanted to be a good boy and to be told it, too. Freed didn't give Laxus the praise he wanted all too often – inside of kink, anyway – but today, Laxus had earned all the praise he wanted.

He guided Laxus towards the waiting bath, hands stroking down his whiplashed back and over the growing welts that covered him. Laxus pushed back into them, yearning for the pain just as much as he yearned for praise.

"One day, I'll find the words to tell you how handsome you look when you're in pain," Freed whispered, kissing Laxus' shoulder from behind as they reached the bathtub. "The first time I hurt you – I really hurt you – it was… religious. Seeing you cry, and shake, and thrash… that's when you become god to me."

Laxus moaned, leaning back into Freed. "Yer gonna make me cum again."

"And you'll be the picture of agony when you do it," Freed purred. "But your muscles need to relax, and your beautiful body needs to be tended to, so let's get you in the bath and I can show you just how good, and how obedient you've been for me."

"Want you with me, Master," Laxus panted, placing his hands on the side of the bath. "Want to feel you."

"Then that's what you shall have," Freed assured him.

Freed made quick work of removing his pants and boxers, standing naked. Laxus looked at him the same way Freed looked at Laxus, with a reverence and love that had once seemed impossible to understand. Freed was perfect, unmarked, and barely exhausted. Laxus was the completely opposite. Freed had to wonder if Laxus saw his unblemished majesty in the same way he saw Laxus' ruined half-there wreck.

Knowing what his slave would want, Freed climbed into the bath first, spreading his legs wide enough for Laxus to fit between them. He looked up at Laxus, who was still blissed out slightly and waiting for an instruction. Such a good boy.

"Come on in, Darling Dragon," Freed instructed.

Laxus did as he was told, and climbed into the bath. His back laid against Freed's front, and he was slumped so far down that his chin rested on the surface of the water. Freed had his arms around Laxus' neck, resting against his chest. The salts and scents in the baths fizzed, silently encouraging Laxus' body to heal itself at a greater pace.

For a while, Freed said nothing. He played with Laxus' damp hair, scratched at his scalp, and held him as close as their positions allowed. He pressed a kiss onto the top of Laxus' head, and smiled softly when he felt Laxus' body shaking slightly. He was crying. Freed was shocked it had taken this long.

"You're the most perfect little slave, you know," Freed praised, hands grazing over Laxus' chest just to give him more contact. "I never dreamed I'd get to own a man as wonderful as you."

"Yer just saying that," Laxus murmured, voice a little tender. He needed this outlet. He cried far too infrequently.

"I'm not. I love you, Dragon, and I love that I get to own you," Freed pressed another kiss onto the top of Laxus' head. "I love that I own a man who is so strong, and virtuous, and powerful in his outer life. A love that I own a man of competence, and brilliance, and power. I love that I get to hurt you, and show you love, and hold you tightly whenever I please. I love that you let me be that person for you."

"Layin' it on a little thick," Laxus laughed, his other personality coming through. Freed grinned.

"About as thick as those lovely thighs of yours," Freed said, and Laxus laughed again. Freed leant down and squeezed a thigh, feeling the muscle bulge under his grasp. "I wonder how often you forget how sexy you are, Dragon. Because damn, Laxus, any time anyone sees you, they want you. They want your body, your words, your lips, your attention. The fact I'm the only one who gets to have that is… I will forever be aware of how lucky I am."

"Sweet talking mother fucker," Laxus murmured, before turning his head and taking Freed into a slow, tender kiss.

Laxus turned so that he was on all fours, half covered by the water, so he could better kiss Freed. He ran hands over Freed's strong stomach, rubbing the firmness of his abs before cupping his cheeks to hold him close. Freed grazed his hands down Laxus' muscled arms, then chest, then his abs, before finally taking his hard cock in his hand. Laxus moaned, bucked into it, and kissed Freed deeper.

With soft hands and slow movements, Freed stroked Laxus' aching, abused cock up and down, up and down. Laxus thrust into it, matching the pace as he kissed Freed with all the love a man could possess.

Freed felt lightning skitter across the surface of the water, leaking from his dragon as mindless pleasure took over him again. Freed sped up, pumping Laxus in earnest as Laxus started to fuck his hand. Freed stopped the slow kiss, and started to pepper chaste ones as his free hand tugged at Laxus hair.

He whispered his praises between every kiss. Perfect. Beautiful. Ruined. Majestic. Godly. Wonderful. Handsome. Everything.

Laxus moaned into Freed's lips with a sudden bend of the back, and he shot a few weak spurts of cum into the bath as the final orgasm his body could manage had him shivering. He looked pained and pleasured in equal measure, and once it ended he collapsed onto Freed, water splashing over the side of the tub. He nuzzled into Freed's chest, and stayed there.

Freed wrapped him up, and held him tight. One day, Laxus would know exactly how Freed felt for him. And until that day came, Freed would have no greater purpose than figuring out what those words were.

Chapter Text

Day 24: Gags

Freed x Jason

"So, can you guess how this game is going to work based on its components?" Freed asked.

Set up on the wide table were the three times that would lead to Jason's domination. A stack of Sorcerer Weekly magazines in which Jason had written articles, a large looking hourglass filled with enchanted sand, and a black ball gag with a padlock on the buckle of the strap. It was a fun game that Freed had derived, and it would drive the poor, ridiculous journalist to a stage of madness.

Jason, who was fully naked under Freed's instructions and awkwardly covering his crotch to hide his cock, looked over the table. He was smarter than he let on, and Freed wondered if maybe he would figure it out. But Jason shrugged, hands still over his crotch. "I dunno."

"This is every edition of Sorcerer Weekly you've written about Fairy Tail in the last year. I read each article, and tallied up every time you annoyed me. This is an hourglass magically modified so that, for every time you annoyed me in your writing, a minute is added. This is the gag that you will be wearing until all that time is over," Freed grinned. "Clever, no?"

"How, erm… how long is the timer set four."

"A little under seven hours," Freed smiled. "You work in print journalism, think of it like a gag order."

Jason gaped at Freed before, seemingly instinctively, he yelled, "Coooooool!"

He had cupped his hands over his mouth in a cone to increase the volume of his shout, and Freed instantly looked down to see Jason's cock and balls for the first time. His cock was, frankly, huge. Freed had to double take, and Jason squeaked before covering it up again. A well-hung man ashamed of his length.

This would be very fun.

Freed hadn't known what to expect from a session with Jason. It had come about when Jason had come to Fairy Tail, and told Freed that someone with a grudge agains the guild had heard the rumours about Freed's kink-focused lifestyle, and had sold the story to Jason in an attempt to discredit the guild. Jason had put a stop to it – apparently wizard's sex lives were a step too far for him – and wanted to let Freed know. But there had clearly been something more he wanted to say, and after some prompting, he had spoken rushed and in a single breath.

"I always wanted to be tied up and treated like a piece of meat by some hunky guy and now I know you do that kinda thing I want it to be you and thought I should ask but it's hard to get the words out but I want you to dom me man!"

Freed had grinned, given his hair a pull and eaten up the moan, and organised a date.

"What's gonna happen when I'm gagged?" Jason asked, voice buzzing with anticipation.

"You filled out a list of all the kinks you know you like and want to try out," Freed smiled. "For as long as you're gagged, I will do anything and everything from that list, at my leisure."

Jason moaned, and shifted where he stood. His big cock was getting hard, and Freed grinned. He picked up the gag and motioned for Jason to turn on the spot, which he did. Jason's mouth was already open, and Freed pulled the gag in and buckled it tight, so that Jason had no chance of removing it. He locked the buckle and pocketed the key, before roughly turning Jason to face him. He liked being manhandled, and Freed liked manhandling him.

Freed flipped over the hourglass, and the sand began to fall, with a holographic timer above it. Six hours, and fifty-seven minutes. Jason looked at it with wide eyes, the reality of the rest of his day setting in.

For a moment, Freed just looked at Jason. He suited being gagged and stripped. He had a slender, narrow little body with sharp nipples, barely a dusting of hair above his crotch, and legs so spindly that they looked like they would break. He was malleable, and nervous, and in desperate need of a firm hand.

Deciding not to warn him, Freed stepped forward into Jason's space, and knocked his hands to the side so that he could no longer cover himself up. He pushed Jason to the side, digging his waist into the table, and held his hands behind his back. With a spare piece of rope, he tied Jason's hands behind his back tight enough he wouldn't be able to move them, and gave him a firm slap on the ass for his efforts. Jason moaned into the gag, and Freed laughed at the sound of it. Spanking had been high on his list of likes, and Freed was going to make use of it.

He let Jason stand up and turned him around. His cock was half hard and leaking, pointing right at Freed. So needy. So pretty. Freed got down on one knee, and slapped the man's cock. Then again. Then again. Each concurrent hit got sharper, and Jason grew harder each time. He was jutting his crotch out to give Freed better access.

Needy indeed. Perfect.

Freed stood up again, and took a step back. Jason gave him as pitiable a look as a man could when he was gagged. Freed just smiled. "Are you a patient man, Jason?"

Jason took a moment to think, then shook his head.

"I thought not. Well, you might not like this. I'm going to leave you in here for the next hour, on your own. You are not to leave this room, under any circumstances," Freed smiled at Jason's look of confusion. "Entertain yourself however you please. Oh, and you're to remain fully hard at all times, and if you don't you'll be punished." Jason made a sound that might have been a question as to how Freed would punish him. "Well, I'll teach you what that nasty little thing does?"

He nodded to his electro-humbler, and left the room shortly after, leaving Jason alone with his imagination and the looming threat of a toy he would never really use on a newbie kinkster. He heard the sound of Jason's gagged complaints, and glanced over his shoulder to see the look of gloomy desperation on his needy new toys face.

This truly was going to be a fun afternoon.

An hour later, Freed teleported himself into his playroom, and laughed out loud at what he saw. Jason must have been struggling to keep himself hard, because he was currently bent over Freed's leather armchair, humping it like a mad dog in heat. The moment he saw Freed, he paused, and looked utterly humiliated. Another kink he liked.

Freed walked to the chair, and took a seat. He wordlessly grabbed Jason by the neck and all but shoved him over his knee, ass up high and ready for the next part of their game. Freed fluttered his hands, and summoned a smaller stack of Sorcerer Weekly editions.

"So this is how this will work," Freed began. "Every edition I have here has something you've written about me, that I disagree with. I'm going to read it out, and I'm going to give you a chance to explain yourself. If I'm satisfied, I'll do something I assure you that you'll enjoy. If I'm not satisfied, I will spank you. Understand?"

Jason gave a short nod, before screwing up his face and pointing to his gag. He made a noise that, Freed assumed, questioned how he would be able to explain himself if he was gagged. Freed just laughed.

"The gag will make this remarkably difficult, won't it? Now, let's start with your comments about the time I cut my hair."

Two hours, and one hundred and seventeen slaps to his bare ass later, the game was done and Jason was left an agonised, weeping, leg humping mess. Jason had no shame in his day to day life, yet somehow had less during play. He was mindlessly trying to get his cock to spend over Freed, begging through the gag and pushing his ass up higher to get the full effect of each spank.

Freed stood up without warning, sending Jason sprawling to the ground where he remained, his thin body heaving with every breath. Freed stepped over him, intentionally dragging the toe of a booted foot over the tender flesh of his spanked ass.

"I must say, Jason, this is the most pleasant time I've ever spent with you," Freed commented, taking a sip of water. He made sure to watch Jason as he drank, clocking wether Jason needed water too. He barely seemed bothered by it, and instead was watching Freed's tented crotch with wrapped attention. "Perhaps it's because you can't say anything irritating. Quite the reprieve, I must say."

Jason gave him a dirty look, but Freed didn't miss the little air hump his words caused. Degradation kink; always fun.

"I do mean it, I enjoy having you so… agreeably pathetic. And that frankly ridiculous dick of yours seems to love it too," Freed walked to him, and nudged the hard-on with his foot. Jason groaned, and looked up with his pretty gagged face. "I'd like to have you like this again, actually. So I propose a deal. We're nearly halfway through the time, so what say I fuck you into the halfway point, and we end our session there today. We do the next half whenever you're ready."

Jason almost immediately nodded, but Freed stopped him by grabbing the back of the gag and holding it tight. Jason had a kink listed highly on his liked list, that needed a change of venue to be achieved.

Semi-public and dangerous.

"There's a little twist, though. The second half of your punishment will be undertaken in the Sorcerer Weekly building." Jason's eyes grew wide. "In your studio." He visibly swallowed. "And I get to use your camera and take as many pictures of you in that pretty little gag as I want." Jason moaned, and rutted his hips like he didn't know he was doing it. "So, with all the information presented, do you want me to fuck you, Jason?"

The second Jason nodded, Freed shoved him on all fours, and grabbed the back of the gag like the reins of a horse. He pulled his cock out, used a combination of spit and Jason's precum as lube – raw fucking was also on his list – and lined himself up with Jason's hole.

"Ready, Jason?" Freed asked with a low, husky voice. Jason nodded

Immediately, Freed fucked him rough and fast. He cared little for Jason's pain and comfort. He knew a cock slut when he saw one, and Jason certainly was one. Freed knew the rumours. Knew that Jason had a quiet reputation in the gay wizard in community of cruising anyone he thought would be willing after a modelling session. He knew all about the Sorcerer Weekly glory hole, and had used it once for some stress relief. He knew full well who those moans belonged to, and knew Jason could take a dick like a god.

One hand dragging Jason's head back with the strap of the gag, the other steadying his balance on Jason's waist, Freed rutted like an animal. Jason moaned and groaned and let his body be used. He was a first time sub, yet fell into the role like he was meant for it. And Freed would have him again.

Again and again and again.

Jason groaned, clenched so tight around Freed's cock that it hurt, and rutted back into him. Freed pulled Jason back, so he kneeled, back pressed against Freed's chest as cum erupted in a manic explosion.

Freed followed suit, filling his new sub with his seed and claiming him without abandon. Jason was unexpected, but perfect, and Freed would relish every chance he got to put the man in his place and turn him into a cock slut bitch who lived to be spanked and screwed and owned.

The moment, as all moments of ecstasy did, passed faster than Freed wanted. He pulled out of Jason, removed the gag, and helped him get comfortable. Cuddled together, Jason spoke with a hoarse voice.

"If this is what writing insulting articles about you gets me, I'm gonna do a nasty hit piece on ya," Jason casually informed him. Freed smirked; so Jason was a little bratty as well.

"Fine. But I reserve the right to lock that huge cock of yours in a cage if it's as bad as I hope it will be."

"Anything you want, you blowhard egomaniac pretty boy."

Freed laughed, gave Jason's sore ass a nasty squeeze, and pulled him into a slow kiss. Jason melted into it, as all good subs did when Freed kissed him, and he silently started to plan out just what he'd do to Jason in his own studio. Whatever it was, Jason would never be able to look at his workspace the same way again.

Chapter Text

Day 25: Pillory/Stocks

Freed x Bickslow

The joyous thing about Bickslow was that, when he was in play, he truly knew what that meant. He wasn't the biggest pain slut, nor the kinkiest man Freed knew, but he leant hard into what play was. He loved the fantasy, the absurdity, and the game of BDSM. Case in point, a week prior he had come to Freed with an idea for a roleplay, fit with characters, costumes, and specialised equipment.

Freed hadn't even considered denying him his request, absurd though it may be.

So now, Bickslow was trapped bent over with his hands and head trapped in an old fashioned pillory. He wore a full body, skintight, purple and yellow jester's outfit he'd found in a costume store, befit with a ridiculous jingling hat. The costume was tight enough to show every inch of his hot, hard body, and his leaking cock was practically obscene as it bulged against the spandex.

Freed himself was to be the prince in this medieval roleplay. He wore a roguishly ruffled shirt, older fashioned pants that hugged his ass perfectly, and a plastic crown Bickslow had given him.

The prince had been the subject of one too many jokes, Bickslow had said, and was now seeking revenge. He had trapped his naughty jester in the pillory and was going to do anything and everything his sadistic, princely mind came up with. The jester would regret making any jokes at the prince's expense, and the prince would realise that the jester better suited warming his bed than playing to the crowd. Bickslow had left the rest up to Freed and simply requested that Freed have fun with it.

Oh, and having Bickslow in a pillory was a delight. An opportunity too good to not make the most of. Freed had plans. And Bickslow, his naughty little jester, would learn his place before the day was done. Freed would make sure of it.

"Quite the predicament you've got yourself into," Freed commented, circling Bickslow as he scraped the head of a crop down his spine. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes sire," Bickslow said, voice brimming with excitement.

"One entirely of your own making, and I would wager, one that didn't happen without intention," Freed stepped in front of Bickslow, and stroked the crop down the side of his face. Bickslow tried to lean into it, as best as the binds would allow him. "Do you antagonise me on purpose, so that you'll end up like this, jester?"

"Yup, totally do," Bickslow laughed. "You're hot when you're pissed."

Freed whacked Bickslow hard across the face with the crop, and Bickslow whined at the pain of it. He wasn't the biggest pain slut, but he could take a hit well. He looked up at Freed with big puppy dog eyes that Freed didn't believe for a moment. Freed simply stroked the red mark on his face, then pushed pressure into the sting.

"If you want me angry at you, then being yourself is more than enough."

He stepped back, and positioned himself behind Bickslow. Bickslow turned as best he could to follow where Freed was, but the pillory wouldn't allow him to. He whined like a bitch as Freed just left him waiting. They both knew something was coming – something bad – and Freed loved letting Bickslow's imagination run wild.

Only when he was sure Bickslow was getting lost in a fantasy – his ass pushed out like he was presenting it – did Freed act. He struck Bickslow on the upper left thigh with the crop. Then the right. Then the left. Left. Right. Left. Right. Again and again. The same spot each time, cracking with a whoosh and dragging out a groan that turned to a roar. The spandex of his costume offered no support, and Bickslow could do nothing but let it happen as he took strike after strike.

It was as ridiculous as it was hot. The fabric of the cheap costume strained around Bickslow's fat, round ass. The bells on his hat jingled with every movement. The repeated whispering of 'My liege, please'. The fantasy was absurd, but the pain real, and that's where the fun was.

"Little Jester, might I clue you in on something," Freed said, groping Bickslow's ass and kneading it. "Your jokes are terrible."

"Hey!" Bickslow argued, and Freed whacked his ass with a firm spank.

"Terrible. You haven't been anywhere near as funny as you think for years. As an entertainer, you're practically useless. Except, in one little way," Freed kneaded his ass again. "Seeing you prancing around in that tight thing, your cock barely visible it's so small-"

"I'm hung!" Bickslow argued.

"I keep you around, because watching you make an ass out of yourself gets me hard," Freed purred, scraping his nails into Bickslow's ass. "It gets me hard watching you humiliate yourself. It gets me hard hurting you. It gets me hard having you under my thumb."

"Speaking like that gets me hard," Bickslow groaned, then sniped. "And you can see that because I've got a massive, fat dick."

"No you don't," Freed stated, and Bickslow groaned a needy groan. "But the little joke you told me, at my expense and in front of my people, took things to a new level. You were baiting me, of course, but you pushed the limits nonetheless. As such, I think I'll do the same."

"How… how'ya gonna do that?"

"Like this, of course."

Freed took Bickslow's costume in hand, and tore it open wide enough for an obscene rip to reveal his ass. Bickslow moaned at the sound, and the coldness of the playroom on his ass. The man's rear was a perfect thing, with a smooth curve, just enough muscle, and a wonderful jiggle to it. The man was sex personified, it just took a certain type of man to look past the eccentricities and to meld with his kinks.

Reaching down, Freed placed the crop on the floor and picked up a paddle. Large, black, and covered in sharp metal spikes. He held it in front of Bickslow, and drank in the little gasp Bickslow couldn't fight back.

"Twenty hits on each cheek, then I'll fuck you," Freed informed him.

"Aww, that sounds nice," Bickslow laughed weakly. "I can totally take that. No problem. Hundred percent, baby."

"It doesn't matter if you can take it. All that matters is that you will, because you have no choice," He cupped Bickslow's cheek. "Your prince will hurt you, and you will take it, because that is how this works. Isn't it, Funny Man?"

"Yes Sire," Bickslow moaned.

Freed smiled at him, then slapped him hard across the face, knocking his jingling hat to the ground.

Standing behind Bickslow, Freed began his assault. He struck Bickslow's bare ass again and again, counting them out loud for Bickslow to hear. The spikes imprinted on his cheeks with each strike, and Bickslow yelled and thrashed and cursed as fizzling, hot pain gave way to true agony. Bickslow wanted to see what Freed could do with a paddle, and Freed was going to show him.

A pattern of pinholes from the spiked paddle bloomed on Bickslow's ass, and it only drove Freed to strike him harder and harder. Bickslow was crying now, and Freed loved it. He'd not be able to sit comfortably for weeks, and Freed would relish every squirm and pitiful whine he got to see.

He dropped the paddle and took Bickslow's plump, smarting cheeks in both hands. He kneaded them, rubbed the pain bone deep, and laughed. He made quick work of pulling out his cock and lubing it up. He parted Bickslow's cheeks, gave them a slap just to see them bounce and hear Bickslow whine, before he pushed his dick in deep.

Bickslow was a tight man every time Freed got to fuck him. The heat and pressure he put on Freed's dick was heaven, and Freed showed him no mercy. Bix was a gymnast and a sub; he took dick like nobody else.

Rough and fast and brutal, Freed fucked his Jester. Bickslow cried and moaned and begged for more because he was damn built for taking cock and taking pain. He liked the games, and the role play, and the characters. But he wanted the feeling. The agony of knowing he was owned, and possessed, and tethered to another man who made the decisions he wanted made for him. Bickslow was a slut, and a joy, and a wonderful delight of a man.

Only when Freed shunted himself deep into Bix, and filled him with his cum did Freed pull back. Bickslow looked boneless and tired, and a thin trail of his own cum was leaking down from the stained crotch of the costume. Freed caught his breath, groped Bickslow's ass, and slowly pulled out. He stepped in front of Bickslow, who smiled at him big and goofy.

"Can't believe you used the same paddle I got you last Christmas on me," Bickslow laughed.

"A lowly jester does not gift a future king anything," Freed sniffed.

"We're still going? Awesome. You gonna make me suck your dick. I love your dick!" Bickslow then shook his head, and got back into character, his fake guilty expression coming back. "What else are you gonna do to me, Sire?"

"You're in a pillory, Jester. What else would I do?" Freed said ambiguously. He walked to the far corner of the room and picked up a bucket heavy with sludge; a perfectly sanitary slime meant for kink, but Bickslow didn’t need to know that. He took it to Bickslow and placed it in front of him, laughing when Bickslow screwed his face up and demanded to know what it was. "About a week's worth of rotting food."

"No. Really?" Bickslow whined.

"You wanted commitment, and I know this is on your maybe list," Freed shrugged and lifted the bucket again. "Safeword?"

Bickslow shook his head. "Slop me up, Baby!"

Freed did just that. The bucket looked revolting, and Freed took great joy in pouring it down Bickslow's trapped back. He grinned as Bickslow twisted and coiled as the thick gloop covered him. It trailed down his body, over his beautiful ass, and Bickslow had no choice but to take it. This was the fun thing about Bickslow; he was up for pretty much anything, no matter how weird. And if the returned hardness of his cock bulge was telling, he liked getting messy.

To finish the day, Freed picked up Bickslow's hat and filled it with the remainder of the slop. He then placed it on Bickslow's head, and trapped the rotten food. It slid out from the hat, covering his face in the revolting mess. Freed smirked, and Bickslow groaned.

"You're such an ass."

"Call your prince that again, and you'll end up in a cage."

"Person cage or cock cage?" Bickslow grinned, tongue lolling out before recoiling when rotten egg fell onto it.

"Both," Freed grinned. "You're here for the next hour. I'll hose you down, fuck you again, and we'll see if you deserve freedom," he stepped back, looked at his sloppy, agonised sub, and turned his back. "Have fun."

Bickslow whined, and Freed spared him one final glance before leaving him to his mess and his pain. He had wanted the full medieval pillory treatment, after all.