'Kinky S*x Dungeon' Reviewer in a Fantasy world (18+) BDSM-Chapter 27 - 3.7

Virael lay sprawled on the glossy black floor, her body a trembling wreck after her fifth climax.

Her latex stockings slick with sweat and other juices, her back streaked with the sisters' cum.

Her breaths came in harsh, ragged gasps through the open-mouth gag, drool pooling beneath her cheek as exhaustion sank into her bones.

The sisters had warned them this would last at least two days, but the vagueness of "minimum" gnawed at her—how long could this stretch?

Liora, still unconscious on the bed, was a faint presence, her soft snores barely audible over Virael's own labored breathing.

Leraphine and Seraphine stood over her, their leather dom suits creaking faintly—Leraphine's faint smile lingering, Seraphine's grin wide and triumphant—as they watched her collapse.

Time blurred, but the sisters returned with renewed purpose, their footsteps sharp against the floor.

Seraphine gripped Liora's ponytail, yanking her awake with a startled yelp, while Leraphine pulled Virael upright, her firm tug on Virael's dark hair forcing her to her knees.

Liora stumbled groggily beside her, their latex-clad knees pressing into the cold stone as the sisters cuffed their hands behind their backs again—steel biting into their wrists, the familiar clank echoing in the room.

Virael's shoulders ached, while Liora's tail twitched faintly, her body still reeling from her multiple climaxes.

The sisters knelt behind them, their gloved fingers sliding down to their assholes—Leraphine probing Virael's, Seraphine Liora's—checking the stretched rims with a clinical touch, ensuring they hadn't clenched shut.

The intrusion drew a low groan from Virael, her ass still sensitive from the dildo, and a soft whimper from Liora, her tail curling inward.

Satisfied, Leraphine produced two anal hooks—curved steel, their ends capped with smooth, bulbous tips, gleaming faintly in the dim light.

She eased one into Virael's asshole, the cold metal stretching her anew as it hooked deep, a dull ache blooming as it settled.

Seraphine mirrored her with Liora, sliding the hook in with a teasing slowness, Liora's muffled gasp breaking the silence as it lodged inside.

Ropes connected the hooks to their collars—black leather taut against their necks—tying each tug of the rope to a pull on their asses, a cruel balance of tension.

Then Leraphine removed the gag from Virael's mouth, leaving her gasp in relief.

Two bowls clattered onto the floor before them—shallow, metal, filled with a simple mash of grains and broth, the faint scent of salt and herbs wafting up.

"Eat," Seraphine said, her voice sharp with amusement.

"Five minutes, or it's gone."

Virael and Liora bent forward, blind behind their masks, their ponytails swaying as they lowered their faces.

The motion tugged the ropes—anal hooks pulling deeper, stretching their assholes with a sharp, invasive pressure, while the collars tightened, choking their throats with every inch they leaned.

Virael dipped her face to the bowl, her tongue lapping awkwardly, managing a few bites—salty, warm, but her stomach rebelled, already bloated with cum.

She gave up, lifting her head with a groan, the hook easing slightly as she straightened.

Liora struggled harder, her petite frame quivering as she forced down a few mouthfuls, her tail flicking in distress, her asshole stretched at an odd angle by the hook's tug.

Five minutes passed in a blur, and the sisters swept the bowls away—Liora's half-touched, Virael's barely disturbed—their laughter soft and mocking.

"Kneel there, get some rest," Leraphine said, her tone even but firm, "until we're back from lunch."

The sisters turned, their boots clicking as they exited, the door shutting with a heavy thud, leaving Virael and Liora alone in the crimson-draped room.

The silence pressed in, broken only by their strained breaths and the faint creak of latex as they shifted on their knees, the anal hooks a constant, dull ache.

Virael tilted her head, "Liora, are you fine?" she called, the word clear enough despite her raw throat.

A pause, then Liora's voice came—shaky, breaking between breaths.

"I'm... fine," she said, her tone wavering.

"It's intense—more than I thought. My pussy's sore from all the drilling, and my asshole... it feels weird, full."

Her tail brushed the floor, a soft rustle against the stone.

Virael nodded, though Liora couldn't see it through her mask.

"It'll be over soon," she said, her voice steady despite her exhaustion.

"Don't worry."

Liora hummed, a faint sound of agreement, then added, louder, "I can hold up. It... it makes me feel alive."

Her words carried a spark, a resilience that made Virael's chest tighten faintly.

Then Liora's tone softened, tinged with guilt.

"Don't lose on purpose anymore, okay? It makes me feel bad—sorry for what's happening to you."

Virael paused, her stoic mask cracking just enough to let through a flicker of warmth.

"Okay," she said simply, honoring Liora's wish, her voice a quiet promise.

They knelt there, side by side—Virael's strong frame rigid, her horns glinting faintly, Liora's smaller form trembling but resolute—their bodies bound by cuffs, hooks, and collars, the room thick with the scent of sweat and leather.

The sisters' absence stretched on, leaving them to endure the ache.