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An Unexpected Bet	By : Thaddrec43 Category: Final Fantasy XIV > General Views: 1347 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't anything from Final Fantasy XIV. I make no money from the writing of this story

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“You’re absolutely insatiable. You do realize that, right?” The Warrior began to clean up his workbench as he spoke. On it, a simple metal circlet sat, the results of his latest crafting. As of now, it was a plain, if finely crafted piece, but it was destined for quite a bit more.

“Not exactly fair to call me insatiable when my only method of satisfaction lies with you.” Y’shtola watched him with a sharp mirth in her eyes, her smile a little crooked. Of course, her vaguely smug demeanor was contrasted heavily by the fact that she was both naked and kneeling next to him, her arms resting on her spread thighs. It was a pose of supplication, exposing her belt entirely and making his power over her clear and obvious. “Of course, nothing about our little relationship is fair, wouldn’t you say?”

They sat in his private workshop, at the back of his house. It was a small room, originally intended as a single bedroom. He’d instead placed several different workbenches in it, alongside several sets of shelves to hold various crafting materials. A more recent addition was a thick rug in the center, placed specifically so anyone who felt the desire or need to sit naked on the floor would no longer have to endure the cold and hard floors. That the rug bore an enchantment to account for spills and moisture was a fact he’d have to find a good answer for if it ever came up.

“I’d have just a bit more sympathy for you if you weren’t the one who kept pushing it. You’re about to lay the enchantment, after all.” Even as he spoke, he mentally commanded her belt to cease its functions, freeing her from its constant teasing, at least for the moment. She’d need full focus to cast the spell, and while he took some perverse joy in interrupting her, this wasn’t the moment for it. She didn’t respond, but the signs were there, becoming just a bit more composed, a bit steadier. He’d long learned to look past her steely facade, could read her and tell when she actually had her focus or when she was simply projecting. She stood, grabbing her waiting staff propped up against the wall, then took his place, pushing him out of the way slightly in the process. He watched, silent, as she began to cast the spell. The enchantment weaved its way into the metal quickly and easily. Between her expertise and his crafting, the actual spellwork was simple, though it still took several minutes. Finished, Y'shtola set her staff aside and picked the circlet up, her aether augmented sight scanning over it with a finer gaze that even most instruments could manage. She smiled wide after a moment, satisfied, then presented it to him.

"Everything looks perfect. Only thing it needs is a test." He took it from her, and she sank back down to her knees. She looked up at him as he set the circlet atop her head, its design a perfect fit on her skull, resting just below her ears. Then with a thought he activated the magic, watching her jerk for a quick second before she returned to looking at him. "Can you hear me?"

She stood there for a second before shaking her head. She then tried to speak, but nothing emerged. She was now deaf and mute, the items function flawless. Her next test was to reach up to try and remove it, but her hands froze inches from her head. She couldn't touch it, as much as she strained. In a real situation he knew it would never hold her for long. Hard to entrap a mage with a spell they cast themselves, after all, but well, suitably distracted...

His mental command ended the spell, and with another slight jerk she smiled. "It works. Perfectly.” He smiled back.

“Well, it works for a couple seconds. It might need a bit more substantial test. Speaking of, you didn’t ask for permission to stand up. And you pushed me out of your way in the process.” Her face was confused for a split second before understanding struck. She opened her mouth to respond but his mind was faster as he reactivated the spell, and her mouth just hung open. Then her eyes widened in shock as he activated the belt’s punishment mode, the sudden sensations of it edging her catching her totally by surprise.

Her hands shot down to her belt in reflex, but he caught them mid way. He wrestled her to the ground, grabbing a length of silk rope sitting on his bench, left there for just such an occasion. She struggled valiantly, but he was both stronger and more skilled than her at the best of times, never mind now. A quick scuffle, and he had the naked girl flipped onto her back, her arms behind her, as he began to tie her wrists together, before winding it around her legs and pulling her into a strict hogtie. He felt a touch of surrealism as he did this, as she didn’t and couldn’t make any noise, no grunts or screams.

Tied tightly and now helpless, she thrashed her head and tail, straining against the bonds, while he stood up and retrieved a collar and a small leather band. By now, he knew she’d lost all concentration and had become blind as well, his theory proven as she flinched only when the collar began to close around her neck, far too late to even attempt to struggle. The was snug around her neck, the latch simple but effective. A loop along its back made it simple to work the rope through it, pulling her head back. Now the only thing Y’shtola could move was her tail, which was twitching in every direction erratically. He simply grabbed the base and worked his way up, pulling it back towards his knots. The leather band went around the end of her tail, only an inch from the tip, and one final knot bound it to her collar. Hogied, head pulled back, and tail extended tight, Y’shtola could only wiggle her fingers and toes, swish the end of her tail, and tense her muscles, bent into a U punishing enough that her breasts were off the rug. As he walked around her, he could see that rug’s resistances were once again proving their worth. Y’shtola spent very nearly all the time with her crotch at least a little damp, something that, among other hassles, increased her need for liquids by a surprising amount, but at the moment she was practically gushing, her ever present tormenter working her up again and again.

He couldn’t help but admire her body at moments like this, when she was incapable of tempting or interrupting him. She’d always kept herself in good shape, of course, but since their little tryst she’d taken up an extra set of stretching routines to accommodate their activities. The results had not only improved her flexibility, but also trimmed out the last little bits of extra fat and given her an athletic tone that he found especially pleasing.

He couldn’t help but return her senses for a second, speaking over her now audible moans. “I’d say an hour is a suitable enough time for a test, wouldn’t you? At least to start.” He didn’t give her a chance to respond, enforcing his total power over her. He doubted he’d make her go a full hour, she was hardly prepared for it, but in the darkness of her own mind, all her senses useless or overwhelmed, she’d lose track of time quickly. And while he was loath to push her too far, he did it just enough that she’d never be entirely confident as to when he was simply bluffing.

That sensory deprivation was her worst fear, but one with a forbidden spice was something he’d had to work out of her. She’d admitted it, when he’d worn her down, about being stuck in her own head with only the frustrating pleasure, the build up with no release. No sight, no sound, no thinking, just endless, frustrating pleasure that cut to her core, removed everything about her that made her her. He’d teased her weakness out, and now if she could think at all he wondered if she was regretting it or enjoying every second. The little trinket had been her idea, after all. Any reservation she might have had seemed to have disappeared once she’d been forced to voice the fantasy. He chuckled at remembering that, the slow, pleasurable breaking. Other memories rose, unbidden, and he couldn’t help but reminisce.

* * *

It had been six months since their little bet. The first couple of weeks had been a bit awkward, though certainly enjoyable, as they’d worked out the nature of their new relationship. But the most intense part had been the sheer depths of her depravity and submission. Y’shtola seemed to have no limit to what she was willing to try or suffer through as long as she felt it wouldn’t affect her daily life, and even that requirement of normalcy was often broken at her own behest. And once they’d vacated the Rising Stones, retiring instead to his private house he kept near Limsa, seemingly nothing was beyond her. She stayed naked very nearly all the time now, solely at her own discretion. Her body bore a constantly shifting pattern of bruises, welts, and rope burns from activities she herself suggested. Anymore, she spent as much time tied up, down, and across than she did free, in rope or leather or both. What was most interesting about all of this was how it seemed to wax and wane, sometimes she’d be happy simply to indulge in more vanilla activities, and then other times she’d suggest things unbidden, things that made him blush to even consider. And while he’d been happy to indulge; a sex partner happy to embrace all your deepest fantasies was hardly something to reject, something felt off to him. She had that old presence of hers, that slight, not smugness per say, but confidence, that inner control that told you everything that happened between them was her decision, no matter what illusion of control she gave him. When he started to notice it, his mind always drifted back to those days of discovery, those moments where she’d been broken down, helpless: submission in full.

Once his mind started to dwell on it, he began to notice the pattern. They’d agreed together to keep her denied around two weeks at a time. Using the tension and frustration it built to spice things up. But the pattern was there: the longer she went denied, the more submissive she got. Oh, she’d tried to hide it, breaking it up enough it wasn’t obvious, but it was clear that what really got her going was being denied. Anything else she was his equal, but denial is what put her at his beck and call. And, having come to this conclusion, he decided he was going to do something about it.

* * *
“A little routine tonight, wouldn’t you say?” Y’shtola couldn’t help the barb as he worked the knots. Naked except for her belt, she was tied spread eagled to the bed, ropes from the cuffs around her wrists, tail and ankles having just enough give for her for her to shift her limbs, but little more. Two weeks had come and gone, and today was when he’d have the belt off her and be allowed to cum. Normally she’d be forced to commit some embarrassing or depraved task to earn her orgasm, so simply tying her down was a fairly tame setup. He saw the glint in her eyes as she was trying to guess his intentions, but nothing beyond that.

“Come now, I can’t be creative every single night. And besides, I think you’ll enjoy this.” He finished off the last of the rope, having her pull on each to ensure they wouldn’t loosen. He then held up a black ballgag, and a smile crossed her face as she resisted mildly as he forced it into her mouth. Once gagged, her gaze followed him, the mocking mirth shining even through her blind eyes. His hands, almost by instinct, drifted first to her breasts, and began to fondle them softly. Just his fingers at first, tracing lines across her skin, soft delicate touches that always ended at her nipples. At first she was giggling, mocking him, but he knew her body, and soon enough her nipples were fully engorged and her laughing had turned to moans. Even as he worked on her, he mentally commanded the belt to increase its teasing, watching as she reacted more and more. He began to trace her belly, her sides, under her armpits; sometimes the slightest touches, his fingertips just barely crossing her skin, other times firmer, kneading her almost as if he were giving a massage.

He could tell when she finally lost concentration. Her responses became far more erratic, unable to now see when next his hands would caress. He focused now on keeping her guessing, stopping occasionally, touches and traces drifting farther. He’d brush across her ears, seeing them twitch, something he knew she hated. Whenever his hands crossed her breasts, he’d twist one of her nipples roughly, evoking a squeak of surprise and an arch in her back. His favorite was to grab her tail, fondling it softly. Y’shtola was very defensive about her tail, and always became irritated when he’d focus on it. He could see her tense as he stroked it, even with all the other assaults on her body.

The slow but endless sensations soon began to take their toll, and her moans were broken up with whines. She began to struggle, twisting and turning at his touch, actively trying to escape him, to convey her impatience. He pulled himself off the bed, seeing the mild panic in her face now that she had no idea where he was. Some part of him debated leaving her like that for a while, stewing in her own juices, but no, that wasn’t the goal today. Instead he moved down to the foot of the bed, standing over her shivering form. He couldn’t help himself, teasing the inside of her legs, slowly working his way up her thighs, then back down, soft, delicate touches. She was practically screaming at him now, frustrated to no end, and he could tell it had been at least an hour, which must have felt like forever to her. She was even attempting to glare at him, an effect that was ruined by her staring at his chest, and he only smiled and increased his tempo until she couldn’t even concentrate enough to keep her neck up, leaving it lolling on the pillows.

“Is this what you’re after?” He reached up as he spoke, undoing the belt both magically and physically. Despite its metal and unyielding nature, the belt itself was quite flexible thanks to alloys normally reserved for high quality armor, making it relatively simple to remove. It came apart in two pieces, and he picked her hips up just slightly enough that he could pull it off, leaving only the metal band around her waist. Her breathing increased, became ragged, anticipation keeping her on edge even without the belt’s safeguards. Staring down at her now naked crotch, he couldn’t help but smile at how much of a wet mess she was. Turned on beyond belief, she began to buck her hips as he just waited, impatient for him to get started and fuck her. He had to be careful, now. Without the belt to limit her, she could come freely. Instead of her anticipated fucking, however, he instead began circling her labia with his finger, slowly, carefully, getting the tip of his finger wet as he did so. She moaned in frustration, began to mumble something scathing into her gag.

“You’re so close, aren’t you? So very, very close.” He looked up and realized she was looking right at him, her gaze burning like fire. Without the belt and its constant, mind melting distraction, she could focus, which meant she could see. He smiled at her before giving her the faintest of touches across her clit, the sudden sensation causing her to moan and drop her head back. “I might lack the…efficiency of my little belt, but I bet a more human touch will drive you crazy all the same.” It was at this point he held up the paintbrush, its soft bristles smooth and pristine. “Why don’t we find out?”

He spent hours tormenting her with frustrating pleasure. Feather touches, both with the brush across her clit and his fingers across everything else, working her up before stopping short. Occasionally he’d gently insert a finger, then two, slowly, agonizingly, working them slightly back and forth, only to pause and feel her clenching around them. At first she was angry, livid, screaming bloody murder in between her moans, bucking like mad as he worked her up and down, edging her perfectly. Soon enough, however, she tired herself out, and she could only lay there, moaning and whining and soon enough even crying, begging in gasping mewls that were barely audible. He’d take regular breaks, ensuring she was hydrated, at first having to force her to drink as she refused out of petty spite, but eventually simply gulping down the water whenever presented to her. He’d pet her as he did so, rubbing her ears in just the way he knew she both loved and hated. That she couldn’t find the energy to protest the demeaning treatment was a sign either of her exhaustion or unreserved submission. Eventually she was little more than a moaning mess, long having worn herself out entirely, arms and legs slack, head lolling to the side, staring at nothing. Even he was growing tired, hands and arms beginning to cramp from the repeated motions.

“I’d say it’s about time we wrapped this up.” She didn’t move, but her ears perked up, hanging off his every word. He stood over her now, doing nothing. One minute, two, just letting the tension build, knowing she didn’t even have the energy to lift her head to watch him. And then he struck, working the belt back onto her, locking it into place. She was so out of it he was sure she didn’t even realize what had happened until he reactivated the seals and the magic, and she moaned and rocked her hips weakly, before she froze in shock as she comprehended what he’d just done.

“And now that we’re done with business, I think it’s time for some pleasure.” He stripped now, his raging hard on having gone neglected. This was quickly remedied by mounting her across her stomach, his erection falling between her breasts. A quick bit of lotion to smooth things over and he gripped both of her tits, pulling them up and in to engulf his erection, rocking back and forth, using her body for his pleasure while she could only lay there. It was quick, he’d practically been edging himself this entire time after all, and as the climax approached he reached down and pulled her head up, forcing her to stare right at his cockhead. Grunting, he splattered her face with his jizz, aiming for her face and mouth, the ball gag having several rivulets running down it by the time he finished. He looked down at her, defeated, frustrated, used, and helpless, everything he wanted and everything he was positive she wanted, and he leaned forward, undoing her gag, wiping it across her face before throwing it off the bed. She lay there, face smeared, panting, before she finally somehow managed to turn her head and make eye contact.

“T-took you long enough.” Her grin was mischievous, taunting, both demanding and begging for more. He only laughed in response, before he once again grabbed her head and guided her inviting mouth towards his cock as he pushed himself forward, forcing her to clean him of the lube and sweat.

* * *

And here they sat, in his personal little workshop in the corner of his home. She’d yet to cum since that session, almost three months now. Her previous submission had paled from then on, denial driving her to depths that made him honestly uncomfortable at times. But he had full control, now, and his word had become very much law. His power was absolute, and in theory he had full say in every aspect of her life now, though in practice much of it remained unchanged, minus the constant nakedness or embarrassing outfits and the aching, ever present denial. He couldn’t in good conscience tear her away from her research, after all, and despite their new relationship, she remained a powerful mage and valuable member of the Scions.

Not that one could tell, at the moment, with her hogtied on the ground, slick with sweat and her face contorted in painful pleasure. He reached out, cupping her chin in both hands, feeling her tense but unable to do anything else. Holding her tight, he released the magic. “Don’t talk. Don’t even make a single noise. No moaning, no nothing.” He watched her struggle, then, forcing herself into silence despite the constant, unending pleasure. “Now, you want to cum, don’t you? Nod for me.”

She nodded, pushing against his hands, her face screwed up in concentration. “Good girl. Well, this is how you can cum. You had me make another belt, said someone else might be interested. Bring her, convince her to wear it, and I’ll let you cum in front of her.” Conflicting emotions roiling across her face from these terms, and he got her attention but tightening his grip, just a tad. “But no tricking her, or lying to her, or anything else. See needs to know exactly what wearing that belt means, and she has to be willing to do so. You want to bring someone into our little relationship, she needs to understand what that means. I’ll let you think about it, I’m sure you already have someone in mind.” Then he cut her off again, narrowing her universe to only the teasing and the isolation. He’d have to release her soon, of course, but she didn’t need to know that, and he was pretty positive “soon” had very different meanings for the both of them. He picked her up, slinging her across her shoulder like a rucksack, then headed for the kitchen so he could prepare dinner. He briefly considered forcing her to eat tied up like this, not releasing her for the rest of the night. His mind swelled with ideas for how to spend the rest of the night, but that would come later.
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An Unexpected Bet