Chapter 1: Opening Image
Slowly, his eyes began to open. "W-wha...?" He remembered what he had happen and tried to move but-
CLANG!
"Wha?" Telemachus tugged and felt metal. His eyes widened. He was cuffed to this... bed.
"Aye, none of that now, princess." Telemachus heard a voice. It was Ghost. "Wouldn't want to awake anyone, hm?"
Telemachus tried to turn his head away as Ghost cupped his cheek.
"Finally, we have you..."
"W-we?"
Ghost chuckled, tapping on a window.
Two more figures entered.
Soap and Konig.
The former, a Scottish mountain of muscle with a dark mohawk, a blue-eyed stare that could cut through steel, and a smirk that promised trouble. The latter, a tall Austrian with a t-shirt mask, his eyes darting nervously behind it, yet his body language screamed 'danger'.
"Fuck," Telemachus muttered, his heart pounding. "What the hell do you want?"
Soap leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. "You're a hard man to find, Telemachus. But we've got you now."
Konig stepped closer, his voice a low rumble, "We have... plans for you."
Telemachus' eyes narrowed. "Plans?"
Soap tugged Telemachus long hair, brushing his hands on his scalp. "Soft..." He chuckled, kissing his head. "And smells nice too. Like..."
"Lavender." Konig finished.
"It's been so long," Soap nuzzled his nose against the man's neck. "Oh, you're just as beautiful as I imagined. Thank you, Ghost, for this wonderful present." Soap's voice was a low growl, his eyes never leaving Telemachus. He reached out, tracing the lines of Telemachus' pussy through the thin fabric of his pants. "I've been dreaming of this for months."
Telemachus moaned, his legs jolting. "You- Mph!"
His was silenced with kiss from Ghost. Soap gently stroked his hair while he felt Konig caress his pussy.
"Mph-"
"Shhh, now, princess." Ghost's voice was a low rumble as he pressed his lips against Telemachus', his tongue forcing its way inside. Telemachus struggled, but the cuffs held him in place. He could feel the heat of Soap's breath on his neck, Konig's fingers tracing the outline of his pussy. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of fear and arousal coursing through his veins.
"Looks like someone's hungry." Soap sneered, as Konig kept brushing his fingers against Tel's pussy. "Why don't you eat your snack, Konig?" Soap suggested, his voice a low purr. Konig didn't need to be told twice. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of Telemachus' pants, pulling them down roughly. Telemachus gasped, his pussy now exposed, the cool air of the room sending shivers down his spine.
"Fuck, you're gorgeous," Konig growled, his eyes locked onto Telemachus' pussy. He ran his hands over it, squeezing the flesh, leaving red marks in their wake. Telemachus squirmed, but Ghost held him down, his grip like iron. He felt Konig nuzzle against him. He felt little licks, awaiting for permission to feast on Telemachus's pretty pussy. When Ghost gave the nod, Konig went ham. He was like a starved lion that found stack of meat.
Konig's tongue was relentless, lapping at Telemachus' pussy like it was the last thing he'd ever taste. Telemachus gasped, his body arching against the restraints, the sensation too intense, too raw. Ghost held him down, his grip firm, his eyes locked onto Telemachus' face, watching every flicker of emotion, every gasp of pleasure.
"Fuck, Konig, slow down," Soap chuckled, but Konig was lost in his own world, his tongue plunging into Telemachus' pussy, his fingers spreading the flesh, his nose buried in the scent of him. Telemachus moans as Konig eats him.
Telemachus moans as Konig eats him, the wet, sloppy sounds echoing in the sterile room, his hips bucking helplessly against the restraints. "Easy, lad, save some fight," Soap muttered, his rough hand suddenly gripping Telemachus's jaw, forcing his mouth open. "Show me that pretty tongue." Soap shoved two thick fingers deep into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue, making him gag. "Suck." The taste of gun oil and salt flooded Telemachus's senses. Konig growled against his pussy, lapping hungrily at his clit, fingers stretching him open wider, the scrape of calloused skin against his sensitive inner walls overwhelming. Ghost’s cold hands slid beneath the bulletproof vest and hoodie, pinching a nipple hard through the thin t-shirt beneath. "Fuck!" Telemachus gasped around Soap’s fingers, a shiver of pain-pleasure zinging through his nerves. "Look at those tears," Ghost murmured, his masked face inches away, breath hot through the fabric. "Beautiful." Konig doubled down, his tongue fucking deep inside Telemachus’s cunt, the relentless pressure building a sick, unwanted heat low in his belly. "He tastes like fucking heaven," Konig groaned, his voice muffled against slick skin. "Want more." Soap pulled his soaked fingers from Telemachus’s mouth with a pop, tracing a wet line down his throat to his chest. "Patience, big man. Ghost gets first go." Ghost’s hand disappeared from his nipple, moving lower, roughly pushing Konig’s head aside. The sudden loss of Konig’s mouth made Telemachus whimper. Ghost ignored it, his gloved fingers replacing Konig’s tongue, probing roughly, testing his slickness. "Tight little thing," Ghost observed, his voice devoid of warmth. He stood abruptly, the sound of a zipper loud in the sudden quiet. Telemachus’s eyes widened as Ghost positioned himself, the heavy, blunt head of his cock pressing insistently against his stretched, sensitive opening. "No," Telemachus breathed, the word barely audible. Ghost leaned over him, the skull mask terrifyingly close. "Yes." He thrust forward, hard, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal stroke. Telemachus screamed, the sound raw and tearing, his body arching off the bed against the cuffs, the burning stretch excruciating. "Fuck yeah, LT," Soap growled, watching with hungry eyes. "Fill that pretty cunt up." Ghost pulled back slowly, almost all the way out, savoring the tight drag, then slammed home again, setting a ruthless, punishing rhythm right from the start. Konig watched, mesmerized, fingers digging into his own thigh, a low whine escaping him.