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Sylvertongue the asshole elder dragon belongs to chuckableimp. Griffin the mage is mine.
Using Lauren the Corgi’s Promptober list.
CWs: Fucking machine, dubcon, bondage, nonconsensual body mods (nipple piercings)
***
“This artifact,” Sylvertongue tells Griffin, “is powered by the magic of the person locked into it.” He takes one of the two straps hanging by short chains and fastens it tight around Griffin’s thigh. He fiddles with its position against his inner thigh for a moment. Griffin feels the sizzle of the crystalline ley connectors on its underside making contact with his own meridians.
The artifact is a roughly carved stone figure maybe seven feet tall. It’s the sort of blobbish vaguely-humanoid shape that postmodern sculptors are fond of, all suggestions and gestures. It’s slender in the middle, where his arms fit around it. Above and below that, it widens; the whole thing a sort of hourglass shape with the suggestion of a head bending down toward where Griffin is positioned, as though it could be watching him. There’s no face–not even the suggestion of one. There’s just a large, ornamentally carved crystal marble suspended from a chain that attaches to the head where its third eye might be. The marble has two other chains suspended from it with little charms on the ends that each look like a hoop and stick.
Griffin’s arms are already wrapped around the back of the statue and locked there in a binder sleeve. The position of it forces his back into a tight arch against the carving, so there’s no chance of him going anywhere when Sylver takes him by the hips and pushes him down on a long hard smooth crystal that sticks out of the sculpture. Its polished-smooth surface breaches him and glides deep inside him, resting thick and heavy in his ass.
Then he lock the second shackle around his other thigh, to keep him on it.
He shifts experimentally. He can’t pull more than an inch or two off the stone dildo.
Sylver cinches another set of straps, which push a cold little nub of stone into his belly button.
Griffin starts breathing heavy. Sylver isn’t quite done hooking him into this thing, but he can feel the circuit he’s been chained into beginning to hum inside him through the energy points of his body. It’s like something is plucking at the flows of magic that cycle through him. They pour from the bright kernel of his spirit out through his body and self, swirling around and back in again. The endless flow of life force that everyone has, but only some people have the ability to wield and enhance.
That plucking is intimate–erotic, even, not that that’s a shocker considering he’s chained to a ritual dildo. He muffles a groan that’s both arousal and fear. Sylver playing with powerful toys like this is never good. The dragon enjoys making other people play with fire while he watches.
For now, it’s mild–a suggestive tickling sensation through the channels of his soul, in his fingers and toes, balls and nipples and ass and the back of his tongue. Delicate lickings from the inside in a lot of erogenous places that hint at what he’s in for.
The feel of it is hungry, somehow. Hungry for…him. Like…an altar to something that feeds on sexual energy, like–
His eyes widen. “Sylver, wait, is this thing a sacrificial–”
Sylver catches the marble and stuffs it into Griffin’s open mouth mid-protest.
Griffin’s eyes widen. He can feel the thing shifting in his mouth, preventing him from spitting it out. He’s still trying when Sylver takes one of the little needle-like sticks of crystal and jabs it through one of Griffin’s nipples, hooking it through the hoop to fasten it.
Griffin screams at the sudden pain of the piercing, and then chokes around the gag as it thickens and elongates, thrusting deeper, filling his mouth . His second scream when Sylver pierces his other nipple is muffled around the dildo gag.
Two long cords whip out from either side of the gag to grab the back of the figure, locking his head into place by the mouth. It’s warm. It’s *moving.* But it’s still hard and unyielding as stone. His tongue is pinned flat against the floor of his mouth, no freedom to do more than wiggle around the edges.
He screams a third time when he feels the circuit complete. It’s choked off by the gag thrusting in, forcing him to deep-throat it. In his ass, dildo begins to thrust into him.
They’re both vibrating with the intimately familiar resonance of his own magic. It’s his own magic surging into them and powering them to fuck him. The straps and chains tighten with the animating surge of his own energy, constricting his bondage and pulling him tight while the crystals heat with his power, vibrating harder as they thrust deeper into him.
The piercings hum in his nipples. They tug painfully when his head is forced back by the gag fucking his mouth. Even his belly button is being fucked. It makes him want to scream, if he could. He’d never imagined that could be so sensitive–every time that little round thing pushes into him there, the sensation goes straight into his core, like his guts are being fucked. Straight through the skin of his throat, thrusts of his own magic up through the thick veins of his neck, a cock of his own magic thrusting up his spinal column.
Griffin can’t control it. His magic rises in response to the stimulation, and the contraption he’s locked into seizes control of it, drinking deep and turning it back on him. It’s penetrating him everywhere.
The dildo fucking his mouth draws back enough for him to gasp for breath.
Sylver steps close, holding his body tauntingly only inches from Griffin’s trapped, heaving one. He reaches down between Griffin’s legs for one more chain–this one with three ornamentally etched hoops.
The gag prevents Griffin from protesting as Sylver locks the cock and ball rings around them and cinches them restrictively tight.
Griffin sobs as he feels his own magic seized and directed into the sigils carved into the bands, sealing off his ability to orgasm. And then the dildo gag thrusts deep into his mouth again.
Sylver steps back with a smile.
What a pretty piece of work. Griffin’s body shudders and shifts within the tight bounds allowed, his hips rocking helplessly, chest heaving so the piercings keep tugging at his nipples. His black hair quickly goes damp and coiled with his own sweat. It beads up on his skin and trickles down.
He watches for a while while the stone idol plunders his pet mage’s body. He can see the flows of magic, drawn from his own heart and channeled into the devices fucking Griffin’s imprisoned body. The patterns are elegant, weaving his power into cords that bind ever tighter and thrust right back into him, fucking his flesh and spirit and twisting his emotional state ever higher, only making the flows raping him with his own power thicken.
Sylver reaches out to toy at the dripping slit of his cock with the points of his claws. Griffin tries desperately to rock into it, only to be brought up short when the idol’s cock swells inside him into a thick knot, trapping his hips in place so he can’t move them.
Griffin’s eyes widen in alarm and his chest heaves in a sob he can’t let out. Sylver’s nostrils flare; he can smell it still fucking deeper into him. He can see it, if he lets the nictitating membranes slide over his eyes: a crystal cock, as thick as a courgette now, its length extending and retreating to keep fucking into him while a hard stone knob swelling in his rectum holds him locked in place.
Sylver grins, sharp teeth flashing. “It’s pressing right against your prostate, poor thing. That explains this.” He touches Griffin’s tip again. Precum oozes constantly from him now, a thick, nearly unbroken strand of fluid pouring from the tip of his cock.
Griffin’s chest heaves in a hiccup of helpless pleasure at the touch. His cock bobs.
“You weren’t wrong,” Sylver tells him. “Eventually your magic will power the idol enough to let it grow. Its stone will seal around you, and thus the god will be summoned. You’ll be locked inside it, a living sacrifice powering its presence here for as long as it remains. Don’t worry, though; I don’t expect our negotiations to take more than a few days.”
Sylver runs his long forked tongue lasciviously over his teeth, eager for the kind of sexual negotations he can have with a god. And anticipating watching what that’ll do to his pet mage as its mount.
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