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"Now, we're going to review."He stills his minstrations between your legs. You make a noise, some sad mix between confusion and protest. His pause, while a bit agonizing, allows you to slowly comprehend what he just said."Wh-whuh--what?"He gives you a lazy smirk and, with a single finger, gives you a light, gentle swipe across where you've been leaking, sending a shudder through you."I said," he intones with feigned impatience, "we are going to review what I just taught you."Oh, shit, shit shit.Fuck.You just wanted to hear Siebren talk smart with that beautiful, wonderful voice of his. That beautiful, wonderful mouth of his...What was he talking about? Shit."Oh," you manage, and you see the mischief twinkle in his eye.He lowers his voice, and his eyes to your crotch, making you feel particularly self-conscious for some reason, as if he was almost speaking to it instead of you, "You only need to answer more questions correctly than not. 10 questions total. If you have more incorrect answers than correct," he pauses to touch a finger to your core, giving your body another reactive jolt, "the number of wrong answers more than correct is each another 24 hours of denial." Oh, indeed-- oh no.With a light sigh, he smiles up at you from between your legs and casually begins, "I will start easy: What was the name of the famous experiment was I telling you about?" You clenched your jaw with nerves as you tried to rattle your memory, before you slowly gathered, "Uhh-- the double, something... the double slit experiment..." and you mentally gave a "whew" in relief.His smile breaks into a grin, "Oh, good start, my dear, one point for you."That shouldn't make your cheeks heat up, that's ridiculous.Your cheeks heat up."Second question. What field of science does the double slit experiment fall under?"You furrow your eyebrows with uncertainty, hoping it isn't a trick question because it seems a bit easy to guess. "Physics."He nods, "good, good. Another point."He closes his eyes and nuzzles the inside of your thigh near your knee.This feels lovely, and you smile a little as you drift into the feeling.Without opening his eyes, he speaks again, "Third question."Oh, right."In what century was this experiment devised?"You grimaced, and guessed, trying to think of a time that would make sense, a large hand absently caressing the outside of your other thigh. "20th century?"He purses his lips as he stilled his motions, causing your heart to drop a little. "Hmm, one point for me - the double slit experiment was in fact devised in the 19th century. Alright, next question."Your legs were already open to fit him between them, but the hand on your thigh curled around a bit more, and with a slow and steady grip, pulled apart both your thighs and your sanity further. The spread heightened your sense of exposure and you suppressed a whine."The double slit experiment tests the properties of what?"Brain fuzzy now, it was getting harder and harder for you to comprehend and reason on things like "experiment" or "properties", much less continue to recall the things he enthusiastically explained while doing truly unspeakable things with those deliciously long fingers. You began to muster a mumble, hoping the answer would crop up from somewhere in the brain you presumably had, "Uuhhhnn... The uh, properties of, uhhh--"Those very same fingers deliberately brushed along the innermost corner of where your leg met your hip, forcing the most pathetic sound out of your restraint, much to Siebren's amusement. He eyes you with a most mercilessly smug expression and chuckles, "oh, you poor thing, heb je moeite met opletten in de klas?"Fuck.
Fucking physics.
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These cues aren't going to mark themselves, and rehearsals for this season's concerts begins tomorrow, but you're being... very distracting. Yes yes, he has his palm holding you to him in his lap by cupping you between your legs from inside your pants, but it's not like he's doing anything. He's had enough of your squirming and rolls his eyes.You're too busy, phone in your hands but long forgotten, concentrating on (what you think is) subtle grinding to get the heel of his palm against your clit, to realize he's quietly and neatly put down his pen, before his other hand seizes your throat-Your head forced slightly back and up, your body incapacitated by the delicious, and now rapidly increasing, heat between your legs melting your common sense, and gives you a slight squeeze just to hear you make a strangled "hrk" that makes him smirk. Even as this angle forces your spine to bend back and slightly wheeze on every breath, his thumb still affectionately strokes up and down as another reminder of who he is to you, to your heart.He murmurs in your ear with that delicious, experienced condescension. "You insatiable little whore, do you not go even an hour a day without starting to need your pathetic holes filled?" He punctuates by pulling both of his hands against you at the same time just a bit harder, and you respond with another uncontrollable gush of arousal that slicks his fingers further, so wet that every breath you take literally slides your folds against them - that just makes you pant harder, shaking a little.His tone changes a little, as he asks, "Confirm your safe rhythm?" You finally get enough presence of mind to put down the phone in your hands and tap his arm with the hand at your throat with 4 short taps in a rhythm he taught you. He grins and growls low against your ear, you yelp when he squeezes you again, "Very good."
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The Emperor towers over you, his presence consumes your ability to think.His eyebrow is raised with his arms crossed in thought, as the Emperor's nebulous eye rakes over you and you can feel his analytical glare practically burn the flimsy fabric that constituted your robe right off of your skin. It was evident immediately - he did not look at you like a person.He was looking at you like a toy.He makes a slight tilt of his head and the fabric across your torso is tugged apart, exposing your chest, and you fight the urge to cover yourself under his freezing, shameless smirk.He unfolds a single arm, casually and silently gestured, and you were quite suddenly swept up into a microgravity field with a small yelp, stripping you of your last shreds of dignity. Under such precise control that despite the fact that you were also now turned upside down, your fabrics floated about more like in water, and you didn't experience the expected rush of pressure to your head. Despite the sudden reorientation that sent you flailing, kept you surprisingly comfortable.This is the only comfort you would get.He ruthlessly grabs your ankle and tugs you about and upwards, and you are entirely subject to ragdoll physics with no grounding point - and your legs fall apart from the momentum. He flicks your robes out of the way with his other hand before reaching in, the golden claws of his gauntlets grazing your inner thigh before grasping it to roughly shove your free leg away, leaving you splayed open for his amusement, as you involuntarily clenched. He carelessly swipes a thumb across to gather the evident, copious arousal with no consideration for your yelp and the flinch of your hips. Rubbing the juices between his thumb and index finger as if calculating the viscosity, his attention entirely on these, while you continued to "hang" by your other ankle, aching notably from the aphrodisiacs you were prepared with and his teasing, apathetic touch.Your involuntary shiver and shaking breaths caught his attention and he finally looked at you, a glance to your face only briefly before his focus flicked up to more thoroughly inspect the desperation between your legs, a gaze so intense you almost shook again, before he hummed somewhat neutrally, "Hmm. This will be fine." - having decided your holes were up to muster.
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You've shown interest in playing some of his favorite games that you're unfamiliar with - so he's more than happy to teach you how to play, his strategies, and things to pay attention to. Sitting in his lap as he hugs you to him [who's touch starved? Obviously not him he's totally not touch starved] innocently enough, although you are secretly delighting in feeling his words resonate between your bodies as clearly as you can feel him speaking them with his chin atop your head.It turns out Deep Rock Galactic is an absolute delight and with his instruction, you're having a blast and fully immersed in the low-poly spelunking dwarven delight. Your squirming to get more comfortable as you go eventually gets his attention… or, well, ahem, attention from one part of him in particular, and he smirks as he starts to get an idea.You're so occupied that your attention had finally drifted away from his large, warm hands settling innocently over your lower ribs and across you to your other arm. He took advantage of this to slowly work one of his hands down that rib - you only notice when he reaches the hem of your shirt. You open your mouth to say something but Mission Control calls out, "Bug sign, we got bug sign! Brace yourselves!", a swarm starts popping from the walls, pulling your attention right back.He chuckles to himself internally and slips under your shirt, indulging in your sweet, soft skin, under his more calloused fingertips, and now your attention slips - in seconds, the bugs overwhelm your dwarf before you can get away and he brings down his lips down closer to your ear with a disapproving tut."Good thing Bosco's there to revive you, but only during Solo missions and you only get one more chance for now." The whimsical little bot sparks your dwarf back to life on the screen and you try to scramble your attention back together, too occupied to respond, because did his voice get deeper, or is that just because his lips are closer?You manage the rest of the swarm despite his hand now having very slowly worked fully under your shirt, but merely resting in the same, innocent place as it was before.The poke from under your butt that you only begin to notice after the swarm was far less innocent, but... at this point in the mission it was silly not to complete it, so you were determined to see it through.He made a secretive little smile, knowing you were not content to leave levels unfinished, and kept an eye on the mission target count. You were close enough to completing this mission for him to indulge a little challenge.“Your health is a little low, liefje,” and you jumped despite yourself, slightly flushing, as he continues to test you, when did the hand on your arm move up to your shoulder? “And you should mine that nitra over there.” You murmur your thanks and acknowledgment, as your eyes can just barely focus on the rapidly dimming cave - these dumb little flares really could use an upgrade - to see the shine of that red, triangular mineral.You manage enough for a resupply and fingers are creeping up slowly over your skin – well, at least, they must have been moving at some point, you swear the hand under your shirt wasn't that close to your nipples before – but they stand at attention nonetheless in your anticipation, tickling your shirt, the sensation beginning to zip through you. It becomes increasingly difficult to comprehend the cave in front of you as you scour this last room for those damn boolo caps, so that you can get out of this stupid cave and get Siebren to touch you properly.With a satisfying pop, you grab the last boolo cap for the secondary objective – it wasn't required but dang it, it's the principle of the matter, you know. You drop it off with the mule and the moment you hit the return button and Mission Control gives you a “Good work. Sending in the Drop Pod” – a gasp breaks through you, thanks to him swiping his thumb over the peak on your chest, and you realize his other on your shoulder is... nearly at the side of your neck.Now he's chuckling out loud, his fingers begin to move a bit more. “I believe you’re getting quite the hang of this game. Now, watch the timer,” he warns, “you still have to actually get out to finish the mission...” but your ears barely process half of what he's said with the way he touches you now, and your dwarf proceeds back through the caves with a scrambling run, your eyes darting to shoot off some bug faces – all the while moans falling with abandon from your lips as his fingers play with your sensitive nerves. You clench your teeth to keep your focus on actually understanding the screen, his other hand now lightly holding your neck, your breathing running shallow, unsure of when he’s going to start squeezing.50 meters to the Drop Pod, it's now in sight, and your shaking controls are evident on the screen, unable to even run in a straight line, as the hand on your chest is freely indulging a random assortment of caressing, rolling... a gentle pinch that makes you yelp – or try to – and you realize he’s begun to squeeze, just enough to make you work to breathe, your adrenaline is firing through your system because you're absolutely not letting the mission fail now, you’re not going to let him win, wow his hands are so nice... As you watch the Drop Pod pull up the mule, waiting for the doors to open, he casually mentions, “by the way, there's a mission warning type called Low Oxygen… well, I think you can figure out where I’m going with that idea." You wheeze out a little distracted laugh.You think you’re losing your mind to his hands.So... nothing new on that front.Those blasted doors open at last, you get your dwarf into the Pod with blurring vision, and it locks up as the rocket takes off with a completed mission – you throw the controller aside and start grabbing at his hands, turning around in the seat to push him back and straddle him and... his full attention, tenting his sweatpants. You stare at his face, catching your breath, wild-eyed, as he grins a little too wide, and you furrow your eyebrows at him, questioning indignantly, "what's that smug face for? I got the mission done."He gives a hearty laugh that shakes you as much as it endears you, and acquiesces, "Oh yes, you did, very well done. It's just that, I just realized..." His face almost turns sheepish, even as his hands settle on your hips, increasing your confusion."I forgot to mention that solo missions... can be paused."Your jaw drops.
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You find yourself in a very nightmarish manifestation of one of your greatest fantasies, and you could barely keep your eyes open or string thoughts together.A page turn rustles behind your head.You decide to be a bit cheeky and squeeze him a little but act innocently, like you did nothing at all.He only betrays a sharp inhale but gives you a swift spank. You gasp and in your flinch you squeeze around him again, this time involuntarily... out of your sight his eyes [that have been vaguely skimming the page for the 4th time] slipped closed, his sharp jaw clenched as he leveled his reaction to the second squeeze to a forced exhale, not quite willing to betray the hot, wet pleasure that coursed through him during this morning's gravity control exercise... but he could never hide the fact that his cock, so damn big he was moving organs out of place, and so damn big that you could feel his veins press against every side of your struggling walls, jumped a little, and you wheezed a small whine around the gag at the twitch.You thought this would be one of the easiest tasks he would give you as his assistant, but you were practically fighting for your life and the last shreds of your sanity in this helpless position, taking what breaths you could through your nose - your forearms were bound across each other behind you, affording you no way to adjust yourself and entirely at his arrangement - which at this time, was brutally impaled on him - "testing the limits of his gravity control by holding hostage his psychological state to the highest state of possible disorder without actual chemical injection or inducing an actual psychosis episode".And he wouldn't even move inside of you. He just kept you there, laying on his chest, bound in such a knot you couldn't even grasp a fragment of relieving yourself while he lay in a lounging posture midair, of all things.You couldn't even shake from the pleasure through your legs - locked to spreader bars at your knees and ankles to keep you open, he casually kept you in place by holding the spreader bar at your ankles under the fold of his knee - essentially trapped at every angle.Oh optimistic creature you are - you were thankful that at least the gravity manipulation meant that you didn't have your own entire weight sagging down on him - which would have gotten far more uncomfortable - you just wished he'd give you something... you didn't have enough wits about you to be certain exactly what that something might be, did you want him to move, to start thrusting into you at last? Did you want to cum? Hoping he'd reach a free hand down between you to help you out? Or did you want him to cum for you, just so that you at least could know that you were a good cocksleeve for him?What if he thought about giving you what you want? What if he thought about only giving you one of those things, and you had to choose? And that after you made that choice, what if he then slipped himself out of you, leaving you gaping and open and bound midair for him to just play with?You'd have more thoughts, but they are harshly and mercilessly interrupted - deliberately, mind you - when he takes one of his crossed legs from between your spread open thighs, and practically kicks his thigh up the short distance against you. In one moment too fast, this kick slides you up most of the way almost off his cock, but the forces of gravity and the way your legs have been locked force you right back down way too fast to the hilt with a noisy, squelching noise from between you and a muffled scream from you as you go cross-eyed, from the fact that he's managed to kick you into fucking yourself on him - just once to give you a taste of it, but not enough to even enjoy it before he settles you back down into place.