Twisted Desire

Yui stood bare in the dim hall, her skin prickling. Her hair hung heavy against her shoulders, tickling her collarbone, the ends brushing her bare chest where her white bra used to be. Her nipples—dark, stark against her pale flesh—tightened in the coolness, a shiver rippling down her spine.

She felt Ryuki's eyes on her, sharp and hungry, boring into her nakedness. Her stomach churned, a hot knot of shame twisting tight.

He's looking—really looking.

Her legs shook, long and exposed, her dark bush a messy shadow between them—she hated it, hated how it stood out, how it made her feel ugly, raw, wrong.

"For now… let me tie you up," Ryuki said, his voice low, a wicked grin splitting his face—unconscious, boyish, but edged with something dark. His white hair glinted in the half-light, his jeans bulging where his excitement pressed.

Yui's cheeks flared crimson, heat flooding her face like a slap.

Tie me up?

The words hit her chest, sinking deep, stirring a mess she couldn't name.

Her breath caught, shallow and quick, her heart thudding loud in her ears. She didn't want this—didn't want his hands on her, binding her, stripping her control—but she couldn't say no. Couldn't move.

Contract—stupid contract.

She felt small, fragile, a doll in his game, and it made her sad—sad enough to cry, to scream—but fuck, it lit her up too.

Why? Why do I like this?

Her pussy pulsed, a traitor, wet despite the dread curling in her gut.

He stepped closer, rope in hand—rough, brown, frayed at the ends—his breath warm on her face, smelling faintly of mint and sweat. Yui's arms twitched, wanting to cover her tits, her bush, anything—but she froze, hands limp at her sides.

He'll order me—he'll make me.

Ryuki grabbed her wrists, pulling them behind her back, the rope scratching her skin as he looped it tight. She gasped, a tiny sound, the coarse fibers biting her wrists—sharp, stinging, a dull burn blooming where they dug in. Her shoulders strained, pulled back, her boobs jutting out more, nipples hard and aching in the open air.

Oh god—he can see everything.

Shame flooded her, hot and heavy, but her clit throbbed, a slick heat pooling between her thighs.

He knelt, wrapping rope around her ankles next—quick, firm tugs that scraped her skin raw. Her legs pressed together, the binding tight, unyielding, locking her in place.

Can't run—can't move.

Her balance wobbled, toes curling against the cold floor, her calves flexing uselessly.

She thought he'd stop—hoped he'd stop—but he didn't. More rope came out, coiled in his hands like a snake, and her stomach dropped.

More? How much more?

Fear spiked, sharp and cold, but that excitement—fuck, it grew, a sick buzz humming under her ribs.

Ryuki worked fast, methodical, his fingers brushing her skin—rough, calloused, sending jolts through her. He looped rope around her chest, above her boobs, then below, cinching tight. The fibers dug in, a dull ache swelling in her breasts, squeezing them, flattening them against her ribs.

Hurts—too tight.

Her nipples vanished under the pressure, pinched and hidden, a slow throb building deep in her chest. She whimpered, muffled, her breath hitching—Can't breathe right—but her pussy clenched, wetter now, a shameful drip sliding down her inner thigh.

I hate this—I love this—what's wrong with me?

He wasn't done. Another rope snaked around her stomach, pulling her tied hands flush against her spine—no give, no wiggle, her fingers trapped, numb.

Stuck—really stuck.

Her knees got it next—rope biting above them, locking her legs straight, rigid. She couldn't bend, couldn't shift, her balance teetering on a knife's edge.

If I fall—oh god, I can't get up.

Panic clawed her throat, her chest heaving against the ropes, each breath a fight—short, shallow, ragged. Her skin stung where the fibers rubbed, red welts blooming fast, and sweat beaded on her forehead, dripping salty into her eyes—stinging, blurring.

Then—her underwear. Yui's eyes widened as he picked it off—gray, worn, damp with her juice—and shoved it into her mouth. No—no—what?

The fabric hit her tongue, thick and musky, tasting of him—salty. She gagged, choking on it, saliva pooling fast, dribbling down her chin.

Gross—fuck—so gross.

Her muffled whimpers leaked out, soft and desperate—mmmph, mmmph—no words, just noise, her voice stolen. Tears pricked her eyes, hot and sharp, but her clit pulsed harder, a sick thrill twisting her gut.

He's gagging me—owning me.

The ropes kept coming. Around her stomach again, tighter, cinching her waist till it pinched—her breath wheezed, a thin whistle through her nose.

Ankles doubled up, knees locked—she was a statue, a toy. Can't move—can't—oh god.

Then—the worst. He pulled a rope between her legs, yanking it up, tight against her pussy.

No—no—please!

It dug in, rough fibers scraping her clit, pressing her dark bush flat, hiding it—pain flared, sharp and hot, a raw burn slicing through her.

Hurts—fuck—it hurts!

Her thighs quaked, her pussy throbbing—wet, swollen, traitorously alive under the agony.

She teetered, balance slipping, the ropes biting deeper with every sway—Gonna fall—can't fall—her toes scrabbling uselessly on the floor. Help—someone—please. Her chest heaved, lungs screaming, the gag soaking through, drool slicking her jaw, dripping to her bound tits.

Too much—too tight.

Tears welled, spilling hot down her cheeks, salt stinging her lips—I wanna cry—scream—but I can't. The sadness crushed her, heavy, dark, but that buzz—He's doing this—making me—kept her pussy slick, her body trembling on the edge of something wild.

Ryuki stepped back, grinning, his eyes glinting—dark, thrilled, drinking her in.

He likes it—likes me hurting.

Another rope came—around her neck.

No—no—no!

Her heart slammed, panic spiking as he looped it tight—not choking, but close, a firm press against her throat.

Can't breathe—fuck—can't.

Her gasps rasped, labored, each one a fight—Hurts—everything hurts.

The rope dug in, red blooming fast on her pale neck, her pulse hammering under it. Tears streamed now, hot and free, her eyes blurring—Stop—please—stop.

The pain roared—ropes cutting her wrists, her boobs, her pussy, her neck—merciless, relentless. Too much—too much.

A cry ripped out, muffled by the gag—"Mmmph! Mmmph!"—desperate, pleading, her whole body shaking.

Let me go—hurts—please!

She hated it—hated him—hated herself—but fuck, her pussy pulsed, wet and hot, a twisted thrill drowning her shame.

Why—why do I feel this?

Ryuki's grin faltered, his eyes widening, "*Fuck, what the hell am I doing?" And he lunged, hands fumbling at the ropes.

He's stopping—oh god—finally.

The neck rope loosened first, falling away, and Yui's knees buckled—she crashed to the floor, hard, her bound legs useless, her ass hitting cold concrete with a thud.

Free—sort of.

Air rushed in, ragged gasps tearing through her—Breathe—breathe!—her chest heaving, ropes still biting everywhere else.

He yanked the gag out—her soaked underwear pulling free, saliva stringing from her lips, dripping thick to her chin. Oh god—gross—free.

She coughed, sucking air, her tongue raw, tasting him still—salty, bitter, overwhelming. Tears streaked her face, her throat hoarse—Hurts—everything—fuck.

Ryuki untied fast—hands clumsy, ropes falling loose—wrists, knees, stomach, boobs, pussy—all peeling off, leaving red welts, raw burns on her white skin. Marks—everywhere. Her arms flopped free, numb, tingling—Can't feel them—her legs splayed, pussy throbbing, wet and sore.

"I… I'm sorry… I don't—" Ryuki stammered, voice cracking, his face pale, eyes wide.

Yui slumped, panting, drool pooling on her chest, tears dripping to her lap.

He's sorry—now?

Pain screamed—her wrists raw, her boobs bruised, her pussy stinging where the rope had bitten deep.

Hurts—so much.

Her neck throbbed worst—red, tender, a tight ache pulsing there.

Almost—almost too far.

She wanted to sob, to curse him, to run—but her body buzzed, a dark, shameful heat lingering—I liked it—fuck—I did. Her clit ached, slick still, her mind a wreck—Hate him—hate me—why'd I sign?

Yui's tears fell harder, mixing with the sweat, the drool, the mess of her.

She stared at the floor, breath slowing, the concrete cold under her ass—Over—finally.

Her skin burned, marked, alive with pain and that twisted thrill she couldn't kill. What now? she thought, lost, her body his—no longer hers.

Ryuki realized that although he took over Akechi Ryuki's body in this game world, he didn't get completely free will. In the game, Akechi Ryuki is a sadist who enjoys seeing others in pain, and he enjoys it most when others are in pain because of him.

Ryuki didn't think that he would inherit Akechi Ryuki's sadist desire.

Ryuki's heart thumped as he began to feel cold. Ryuki looked at Yui, and seeing her in a bad state and she might almost vomit, Ryuki ran away.

He didn't want to be like Akechi Ryuki in the game.

No, I'm not going to be like him. I'm Ryuki, a good person, not Akechi Ryuki of the game world.