Kinktober Day 29: Bondage + Body Worship ft. Nymph Grove

content: gender neutral reader, overstimulation, NSFW

While all of the nymphs show great interest in you, you’ve noticed that their interactions are often oddly controlled, following some customs you’re not familiar with.

When you first stumbled upon the cursed grove, you were convinced you’d end up as some sort of sacrifice, or perhaps an exquisite evening meal. You eyed the gory scraps scattered across the ground, then their bloodied, sharp teeth glistening in the campfire light. That impending mystery solved itself rather quickly, as you were almost instantly passed around by the muscular alien creatures. They gawked at you in amazement, turning you around, feeling the softness of your flesh; yet their hunger was different. They weren’t planning to consume you, at least not in the literal sense of the word.

On the other hand, you’re not just some belonging designed for breeding alone. Their rabid instincts to claim you always involve some sort of preparation, a calculated approach. For example, only certain nymphs are permitted to mate with you at once. Whether they earn it through sheer strength, or gradually prove their devotion, the right to mate with you is not something just any tribe member can attain on the spot.

Additionally, the act in itself is a long, ceremonious process. You’ve frequently found yourself tied up and held above the masses, suspended before the greedy eyes of the monstrous beings as they took your whole figure in. Many nymphs will bow all the way down and mumble something in a foreign, husked speech you don’t understand whenever they’re about to have their way with you.

You desperately cling to the remaining lucidity you have, squirming and shivering from the thick, forked tongue swirling inside of you; the beast buries himself further between your legs, indifferent to your nonsensical pleas and heaving moans. The others keep you sprawled down, eyes glazed with lust and something else you struggle to pinpoint. You’re exhausted – how many times have you come so far? – yet your body continues to engage, feverish and stubborn, taking each sensation in and brining you closer to another peak.

Through your teary lashes you can discern his satisfied grin; he lifts his head up, your juices smeared all over his face. The others give you an encouraging squeeze, as if praising you for obediently fucking them, one after another. As they do their usual gestures and chanted murmurs, a thought suddenly occurs to you. The realization.

They’re worshipping you. You are, after all, a blessing bestowed upon them, the answer to their prayers. In their eyes, everything about you reflects utter perfection: your body, your voice, your mind.