Work Text:
Vynathr had tried to behave. Tried to remember that these people, these Ascians were powerful and dangerous. Certainly, he remembered it when he was on his knees for them. Emet-Selch in particular had a way of sparking any emotion he liked with near-painful ease. Fear, arousal, both. His hands and words were clever, always playing with him, turning his emotions this way and that until he fell apart and Emet-Selch was satisfied. Vynathr knew that Emet-Selch could do anything he wanted to him, and he would simply have to take it. Likely in a literal sense.
But though Vynathr logically knew his place, he was ultimately a stubborn man. Prone to growls and pushing, even when he was too frightened or too overpowered to truly fight. When he had a physical weapon, he was even more likely to give his captors trouble, even known to use his own chains. Much as the Ascians loved to feed him by hand to tease him, there was a reason Vynathr was not allowed his own utensils. It mattered not that he was vastly underpowered in comparison to his foes.
Today, the weapon of choice was a bottle of perfume, given to him as a gift by Emet-Selch. The man had stood there and offered it in return for his behaviour the night before, knowing well how Vynathr liked his pretty things. Perhaps in a different moment, or with a different reasoning, he would have accepted it. But all he could think was that this was all he had to look forward to, and he could not stand it. The glass was thick, resulting in a nice, hefty weight in Vynathr's hand, just barely big enough that when he held it in his balled-up fist, a corner jutted out. That was all he needed. He did not bother to remember the chain around his ankle or the fact that he was afraid of the man before him. All that mattered in that moment was the fact that he was angry, he had a weapon, and Emet-Selch was there. His expression tightened, and then he swung, a perfect arc accompanied by an ugly snarl.
Vynathr did not get the satisfaction of fracturing the other man's skull. He did not even get to manage a glancing blow. His form had been perfect, as much as a downward swing with a dull block of glass and perfume could be, but Emet-Selch held the advantage of magic. His hand swung up to meet Vynathr's wrist and grip it with impossible strength, followed shortly by aether swirling about Vynathr's waist as Emet-Selch’s other hand slammed into his chest, pushing him onto the bed roughly and pinning them there. Vynathr fought, kicking and striking with his free hand, but Emet-Selch pushed past it, his free hand gripping Vynathr's throat. Slowly, he felt the hand on his wrist tighten, twisting until he dropped the bottle, the other choking him until he stilled. The pressure faded and Emet-Selch leaned in, smiling faintly as he spoke.
“And here I was trying to be nice. Reward you rather than punish. I've made a lot of threats, I know, but I could certainly have been worse.”
Vynathr growled, once again attempting to thrash his way free for no real reason save for defiance—he knew he could do nothing even if he wasn't pinned. Emet-Selch could claim he was rewarding rather than punishing all he liked, but they both knew that he ruled Vynathr using fear. With Emet-Selch atop him like this, though, there was not much he could do, even with his fingers buried in the other man’s coat in an attempt to shove him away. With all the years he'd fought and built muscle, one would think that Vynathr would be able to do it, but he was no match against the godlike power of the Ascian atop him. Emet-Selch continued speaking, unbothered.
“... Then again, perhaps that is precisely the problem. You may well prove less recalcitrant should we treat you with a little more force. After all, you tend to be so very sweet when you're all worn out. Shaking and weak… Yes. It is about time I carry out one of my threats. And I do know that the boys in the barracks tend to be a little restless. Fresh from their missions and ready to work that aggression out… You'll be perfect for them, won't you?”
Vynathr could feel the moment Emet-Selch’s voice shifted, dropped low and soft as he spoke and the hand upon his throat loosened its hold and stroked slowly down his front where his dress hung open. His intent was clear. He meant to let the lower ranks use Vynathr until he couldn't fight anymore, until he would be too tired to do anything but readily take whatever he was offered. Then he would return and use Vynathr again for his own pleasure. The thought drew a small, frightened sound from him, and though he once again attempted to jerk his way free, it was now out of fear, and short-lived when he remembered that his struggling was what had prompted this in the first place, to some degree. Ultimately, he simply laid there aside from his uncomfortable shifting and shaking, his free hand releasing his coat and instead feebly grabbing for Emet-Selch's wrist not to push him away but to convey how much he did not want that to happen.
“That's what I thought. You're a good pet, but you need a little reminder. And I'm sure Lahabrea wouldn't mind getting to see the aftermath. Though I suppose I should mention that I've already spoken to him about this.”
Vynathr froze, his subtler squirming coming to a full stop as he registered the words. This had already been planned…?
“It was only if you misbehaved enough to warrant it, of course. Bound to happen eventually. You see, he wanted to know of two little factors. How your blessing might react to an enchantment of your internal anatomy, and how it might react to a large amount of dark aspected matter inside you for an extended period. Of course, if you'd never misbehaved, he would surely have found a kinder way to get it done, perhaps… filling you up with more of those eggs himself, but since you're being such a naughty little thing, there's no reason not to kill two birds with one stone, after all. You get your punishment, and he gets his data. And I get to enjoy you after, all tired and meek and willing to take one more round atop all the rest for me. It's perfect for all of us.”
Emet-Selch released Vynathr's wrist and a rush of energy flooded him, a recognition that he only had a few moments to tempt Emet-Selch into not doing this to him. He was a difficult man to convince, but Vynathr had had the most practice with him out of any of the Ascians, and he knew at least a few things that worked. Most of them involved humiliating himself, but that was something he would readily do, readily beg for to avoid this.
‘Please. Please don't do this, Emet-Selch. I will be good. You can have me. I won't fight, I will do what you like, please. I want you.’
As he signed, he saw Emet-Selch’s smile grow, but it was the last part, the most difficult and sickening part, that did the most. He had not used such words outside of being ordered to with Emet-Selch before.
“Oh, how sweet. I do love it when you say these things, and I am very tempted, but… I'm afraid I've already made my decision.”
Vynathr gave a broken sound, but Emet-Selch interrupted it with a kiss, prompting Vynathr to wrap his arms and legs around him as if trapping him there would prevent what was coming. He opened his mouth, allowed Emet-Selch's tongue to press in, allowed him to grind against him through his dress, felt hands stroke over his stomach and work some odd magic there, felt those hands slide up to press his wrists together and cuff them. Vynathr let himself whimper, pant, and press up into every touch in hopes of changing Emet-Selch's mind, but none of it worked. Emet-Selch pulled away and grinned down at him, pulling him partially to his feet only to teleport them both somewhere else, uncaring of the fact that the resulting dizziness caused Vynathr to fall to his knees on the stone floor.
“Attention, all of you. This here is my and Lahabrea's pet, Vy. You may use him as you like, with my only limit being no lasting damage. Oh, and any fluids you put inside him must stay inside him. Doesn't matter what end. You can use this plug if you wish. He can take anything you like in that manner—I have made sure of it.”
Oh, gods. They were already here. The barracks. Right in the center of them, in fact, by a pole which Vynathr belatedly realised his ankle chain had been attached to. All about, there were seats, beds, and more importantly, Ascians. Far too many of them, upwards of a dozen in the vicinity alone, more further away, and Vynathr saw two more who had just entered stopping to peer at him and Emet-Selch.
“Do be sure to enjoy him. I will be back to collect him tonight. Oh, and do keep in mind—he’s sweet enough when he’s put in his place, but he can be a little feisty first.”
With that, Emet-Selch vanished, and Vynathr shrank from the various sets of eyes upon him, creeping closer to the pole he'd been chained to just to have something to feel like he was hiding against. Of course, that did nothing. After a long moment of silence, one of the Ascians stood up, walking over to a nearby table where Emet-Selch had set the plug he'd mentioned. In Vynathr's fear, he hadn't even seen him do it, nor taken any real notice of the plug until the man held it up. Never having seen a vaginal plug before, it looked odd to him, but the man simply seemed contemplative before looking to the group of two he'd been sat near.
“So… We just use this on him?”
Vynathr ducked his head, his face burning as one of the others snorted.
“Guess so. Judging by his words I think he intends for him to take as many of us as possible, and use that to keep it in.”
The man who had picked up the plug walked over to Vynathr, standing in front of him and looking down at him for a long moment. Vynathr curled up tighter, gripping his chains in his cuffed hands to ground himself as he stared at the floor.
“He only gave us a pussy plug.”
“Then we only use his pussy, dumbass. And his mouth, I guess.”
“Anybody care who goes first?”
“Go ahead,” another voice further down the room responded, “think we’ll all get a turn soon enough. Besides, it gives the rest of us time to get in the mood.”
Gods, he really was going to have to take all of them. And more, probably, remembering what Emet-Selch had said. This was where the lower-ranked Ascians would come back from their missions. More would come and go, would be worked up and eager to take that out on something. Much as it disgusted him, Vynathr was familiar with the concept. He'd heard that the Garleans had kept prostitutes in their camps for much the same reason. Never had he envisioned himself in their place.
Everything inside him screamed in conflict as the man before him stepped forward. On one hand, picking fights was what had got him into this mess. On the other, it probably couldn’t get much worse, and more urgently, Vynathr’s fear was starting to make the choice for him. The man reached out and Vynathr shifted, getting up into a crouch.
“Wait a second.” One of the others spoke up and the man stopped, leaving Vynathr frozen in place, heart pounding. “He said he was ‘feisty’. Big man like that, I don't trust him to behave without being held down. Especially with the way he's getting up.”
Shit. He'd known that they would likely end up pinning him down, known that even if they hadn't, he couldn't escape, but the notion still didn't sit well with his impending panic. The man in front of him nodded along, then bent down, grabbing the ring at the front of Vynathr's collar and tugging downwards.
“Get back on the ground. Now.”
Vynathr's mounting temptation to snap and fight prompted him to snap his teeth and jerk in place, trying to pull away, but this only drew more force in turn as the man grabbed his hair, wrestling him down to the floor before grabbing the chains at his wrists, dragging his arms forward and forcing his head down until his cheek was pressed to the floor and his arms were stretched out over his head. A quick spell, and his hands were pinned there even when the hand holding them pulled away. His first instinct was to crawl forward on his knees so that he wouldn't be forced to stretch out and expose his torso, but the man stopped him before he could, settling behind him and grabbing his hips.
“Phew. You were right, he is feisty. Suppose that's why they would want him broken in by us lowlives.”
The hand in his hair tightened and Vynather felt another hand stroke over his side, prompting him to attempt to squirm away. The hand slid over his back, pushing his dress up out of the way and down to his wrists, then slipped under his panties, dragging them down as well. Vynathr stilled for a moment, trying to catch his breath and slow his heart rate, only to begin frantically squirming and jerking in place again as he felt the man begin to grind on him from behind, still clothed though he knew that would not be for long.
“Think it matters what we put in him?” Another man spoke up, and the man behind Vynathr hummed, keeping his movements languid and steady.
“Probably not, as long as it isn't harmful. What, you want to put toys in him or something?”
“Just thinking.”
A small noise left Vynathr as he panted, trying to escape the man’s hold on his hip and thigh and ignore the way they casually spoke about using him, ignore the stimulation between his legs. Eventually, the man tired of pulling on him to hold him still and instead suddenly pushed, forcing Vynathr forward onto bent arms, his mouth falling open in a startled gasp as his hair was grabbed and his head forced down to meet the ground, the top of his head brushing against his chained wrists. The man ground against him with more intent now, the shift in position forcing Vynathr's hips up to further expose him, angling his body to better meet the pressure against him, and Vynathr could feel how the man had grown hard through the thick cloth of his robes and pants, his length pressing between his folds just enough to stimulate his clit. It wasn't long before the hand on his thigh slipped away to remove those robes and pull those pants down.
“Hnn—”
Vynathr couldn't quite silence the breathy, quiet sound, even as he jerked in place, feeling the man push into him slowly. He lingered there, rocking his hips subtly, almost teasing Vynathr with the miniscule movements while he was pressed inside him, before finally, he pulled partly out and began to thrust into him languidly. Vynathr squirmed, whimpering and balling his hands into fists as he tried to push himself up and away, but this only prompted the man to speed up, thrusting into him faster until Vynathr’s muscles gave up on him, occupied with the rhythmic shivers and tensing brought by pleasure. The man slowed back down, seeming to edge himself as he groaned, his grip on Vynathr's hair tightening in an attempt at self control.
Before long, he was speeding up again, the pace unforgiving, the thrusts just fast and hard enough that Vynathr couldn't continue his attempts to escape with any real push behind them, but not so fast as to lose their steadiness. Relentless. Vynathr felt his mouth fall open, panting breaths leaving him as he squirmed, just barely managing to lift his head up against the pressure behind him enough to scoot forward and press his mouth into his wrist, muffling himself. The thrusts faltered for a moment before the man shifted, pressing closer, thrusting deeper into him once more. His panting breaths matched his pace, harder and faster, slowly growing more uneven and rushed until he thrusted deep with a groan and came inside Vynathr, spilling his seed deep. A moment to linger, then he pulled out, released his grip, and Vynathr expected the feeling of the plug being pushed inside him, only to instead feel new hands on him.
The process was not repeated. No starting slow—the man pushed in all at once, rough and quick, and Vynathr keened, arching his back and biting down on his wrist. There was no need to prepare him with a slow starting pace when he was already slick and ready from the last, after all, and the man seemed plenty prepared himself from watching them. Morbidly, Vynathr found himself wondering if he'd been touching himself while he watched, and a glance upwards and to the side told him all he needed to know. They were watching. One of them had pulled his robe open and was touching himself, fully hard, and Vynathr shuddered, closing his eyes once more, trying to block out the sight of him stroking himself in rhythm with his assault, getting off on his pain. He knew the others were likely doing much the same while they waited for their turns.
It didn't stop there. Someone settled before him and his hair was pulled, forcing his head up, and his mouth fell open, releasing his wrist. His unfocused gaze met the sight of pants in the process of being undone and he tilted his head back on instinct, mouth still wide open and tongue lying flat to make way, releasing panting breaths and gasps before it was filled with another cock to match the one he was taking from behind, its owner already hard from watching him. He didn't even think to bite, already tamed enough by his helplessness. Neither could he muster the focus to suck properly, not with the hard and constant thrusts from behind—he could only hold his mouth open and let himself be used, but the man before him didn't seem to mind.
Before long, the man behind him was finishing, but his hand slipped down between Vynathr's legs as he did so, fingers hurriedly stroking over his clit, much faster and harder than he'd normally prefer, but it was more than enough, bringing him to orgasm as he gave a muffled cry and jerked in place trying to get away from the intense stimulation. The man slowed, but didn't stop, forcing Vynathr to take it, causing him to mewl and squirm on his still-hard cock, attempting in vain to pull away from either side, until he finally pulled out and pushed the plug into him, allowing him to rest his trembling legs and focus on the man before him. He finished as well, but remained in Vynathr's mouth, feeling him swallow around him.
Even after, he didn't pull away, and Vynathr blinked away his overstimulated, half formed tears in confusion, glancing up. His single moment of bewilderment was swiftly replaced as the man released a breath and—something else, liquid gushing suddenly down his throat, a steady and strong stream rather than the uneven spurts of cum he was used to. Vynathr choked, jerked away, but the hand in his hair forced him still and the man pushed deeper into his throat, forcing him to swallow rapidly in order to not choke more, and it just kept going, more and more as Vynathr fought his restraints and tried to spit until finally, it stopped, though the man remained inside his throat until all was swallowed. When he pulled away, Vynathr slumped forward, gasping for air and breathing raggedly between sobs as tears streaked down his cheeks and fell on the floor before him. Why? Why would he do that? Why use him as—a urinal, a disposal, something even less than a person or a pet as he'd been before. Humiliation and grief filled him, but the Ascians were not done.
“Did you fucking piss in his mouth?” One of them asked with a disbelieving chuckle, and Vynathr ducked his head, trembling as the man who had done it simply shrugged.
“He said any fluids we put in had to stay in. Didn't say what fluids he meant. Had to go, figured the more the better.”
There was a moment of silence as, presumably, the Ascians looked amongst each other. Then one spoke up, tone light.
“Well, I suppose it does work. I don't mind, for one.” Various murmurs of assent followed the statement.
Gods. Were more of them going to do that? Vynathr startled as one got up and approached, releasing his cuffs and pushing him onto his back. Vynathr immediately tried to crawl backwards, but the man grabbed his head, forcing him forward towards his cock as he knelt before him, knees on either side of Vynathr keeping him in place. Vynathr tried to turn his head and grit his teeth, but his head was held in place, and after the man gave himself a few strokes he pulled his hand away to instead pinch Vynathr's nose, stopping his breathing until he was forced to open his mouth. Of course, a moment later his mouth was filled, though he was allowed to breathe through his nose again. This time, he did remember that biting was an option, but he couldn't bring himself to do it, too afraid of what would happen if he did, and he was quickly distracted from the thought by the feeling of fingers slipping inside him alongside the plug before it was pulled free and replaced with another cock, drawing a sobbed moan as Vynathr feebly dug his fingers into the cloth of the pants of the man straddling him.
They didn't quite thrust in tandem, instead one after another, just out of sync enough to keep Vynathr disoriented as his throat and hole were used. Periodically, he had to swallow around it, trying to avoid choking on precum and spit, and the man moaned in response, thrusted deeper and forced Vynathr to take him to the hilt, and Vynathr whimpered each time, squirming only to feel the other man inside him all the deeper in result as well. It didn't take many rounds of this until the first man was cumming down his throat. When he didn't do anything more, only pulled out and moved on, Vynathr couldn't hide his sound of relief between the helpless whimpers brought out by the other man thrusting into him all the deeper.
Next was another man, settling beside him and pulling Vynathr's head to the side to face him, pulling him partially into his lap. Despite himself, he opened his mouth on his own, let the man push himself in. As horrible as it was, it was something, a sensation in his mouth he had grown far too used to in this place, until it was almost soothing. After the rounds he'd already taken, it was only to be expected that his mind had begun to slip.
The man inside his other end finished, pressing deep inside Vynathr and rocking his hips, and Vynathr moaned, muffled and soft at the feeling of being filled. The man didn't pull out, though, even as he softened, and it took Vynathr a moment to realise what was about to happen, putting the pieces together almost the second it did when more liquid came, a harder, stronger flow that had Vynsthr jerking his hips in startlement. The movement only shifted the angle of the flow inside him, and the man lowered his hand to press his thumb to Vynathr's clit, circling slowly as Vynathr tried in vain to escape the feeling. Stars, why did it feel good . He didn't want that, didn't want this inside him, but he did love the feeling of being filled, and when the man pulled away and was replaced with another to piss inside him without even any preamble, Vynathr found himself rocking his hips and whimpering at the feeling. Why was he taking so much? Surely some of it should have spilled by now—unless this was the magic Emet-Selch had worked before, altering him to take as much as they could give him, rather than it spilling out after a certain point.
“Well, would you look at that. I think he likes it.”
Vynathr whimpered, halfheartedly trying to squirm away as the man finished and pulled out, placing the plug inside him and using his hand to shift it in place, a subtle circling motion that quickly sped up to match the pace of the man currently thrusting in his mouth.
“You want more of that, huh? To be filled up in your pussy?”
Vynathr couldn't respond save another whine as the man in his mouth sped up a little faster, his pace faltering before he came and Vynathr swallowed it down, not even surprised when the man lingered longer until he was able to muster a bit of pee, clearly doing it solely to humiliate Vynathr rather than out of any actual need to, all while another man replaced the one between his legs and pulled out his plug to fill him once more. He swallowed that small spurt, too, then was pulled into a sitting position, straddling the man before him and guided into riding him, another man standing behind the one he was in the lap of and moving to free his cock for Vynathr to suck on.
It was easy to lose himself in this. To let himself chase what pleasure he was given, to open his mouth and take. To tremble as strong hands guided his movements, his own hands clinging to the shoulders of the man he was sat atop. Far easier to take and to want and to be as pathetic as he needed be than to keep trying to fight it. Before long, he had stopped paying attention to who used him and for what, letting them push him onto his back, roll him onto his front, press him to the floor or the wall or bend him over the edge of a bed. By the end of it, he couldn't stand on his own, let alone actively participate or resist. He could feel pressure inside him from how much he'd taken and swallowed, tight and pleasurable. At one point, he was fairly certain he fell asleep, but he knew that when he came to again, they were still at it. Such was the nature of a place with so many passing through—there was always someone happy to use him.
Eventually, though, it became less frequent. There had been various lulling moments, times where there were not frantic movements, only someone lingering inside him for the warmth and the thrill of using another. Vynathr was content, as much as he could be when he was so lacking in his own presence, his head lying in someone's lap as his mouth was filled and his hair stroked between swallows.
It was just when that person finished and Vynathr was pulled into sitting up and opening his mouth for someone a little more forceful when he registered a new presence in the room, as he had many times before.
"That's enough."
Vynathr heard the words, but he couldn't move to face the man speaking them, no matter how familiar his voice, occupied with the man holding his head still as he emptied himself into his mouth. His eyes stared blindly forward, not registering a thing as he breathed through his nose and tried not to choke before he could swallow, again and again and again. The man before him, by contrast, had no problem looking over, meeting Emet-Selch's gaze without so much as faltering in his stream. In fact, he seemed to pull Vynathr's head a little closer.
"Can I at least finish this? Little inconvenient to stop in the middle of it."
Emet-Selch sighed.
"Very well. But the rest of you, find a different urinal. I promise I'll bring him back another time.”
Vynathr heard someone behind him grumble and move away. The fact that they had been waiting drew a little shiver from him as the man currently using him finished and released his hair, and Vynathr breathed heavily, blinking slowly as he tried to muster the strength to move on his own. He could sit upright, but not much more.
“Poor thing.”
Emet-Selch bent down, stroking a hand over Vynathr's hair before picking him up and holding him carefully. Impressive, considering both Vynathr’s size and his fullness, but he lacked the mind to be surprised by it, instead leaning into the warmth of his coat.
“I would reward the lot of you for doing exactly what I wanted, but I imagine that getting to do so was a reward in and of itself.”
“Yes, sir. As long as we get to do it again.” One responded somewhat smugly, and Emet-Selch chuckled as shadows gathered around him and Vynathr in preparation for teleporting away.
“Of course.”
The next thing Vynathr knew, he was being placed upon the table where Lahabrea typically conducted his experiments. Emet-Selch’s gentle hands were joined by Lahabrea's warm and broad ones, carefully strapping him into place and stroking his hair to keep him soothed as Lahabrea took his aetheric readings and measurements. Lahabrea gave him water, gently told him to swish and spit to clear the taste of the various fluids he'd been given, then brushed his teeth and repeated the process.
The readings were finished and Vynathr was moved once more, now to an empty bathtub where his plug was removed and he whimpered, clinging to the edge of the tub while Lahabrea held his head to support and soothe him and Emet-Selch stroked over his stomach, pressing down gently. Vynathr couldn't so much as muster any squirming, instead tensing his body and leaning into supple arms in an attempt to weather the strange feeling and release. Already, he had lost track of who was doing what, but he was rinsed off several times as well as the tub itself, and the two Ascians began to bathe him, gentle, soap-lathered hands stroking over his skin. At one point, Emet-Selch's clever fingers slipped between Vynathr's thighs, washing him thoroughly and more until his thighs were trembling before pulling away, all while Lahabrea simply carried on washing Vynathr's hair. By the time he was rinsed and dried, Vynathr was effectively asleep on his feet, and when Emet-Selch settled into bed with him, stroking his now dried hair and murmuring softly, telling him to take comfort in who he belonged to, Vynathr was too exhausted to protest before falling into dreams made pleasant by gentle touch.