When Centurious came to, his mind felt groggy and slow, as though warding off some spell that had been rendering him unconscious. He had no notion of passing time, of being awake or asleep. He was, however, aware of voices quietly muttering, sounding hazy and far off, like in a dream. His skin felt warm and slick; the smell of torch smoke and mildew was heavy in the air.
There was also something stroking his torso.
What in the name of Oblivion…? Centurious’ eyes snapped open and instinctively darted down to his chest, whereon a pair of hands was slowly rubbing some oily substance around on his bare skin.
Instantly awake, Centurious gasped and immediately tried to pull away, clueless as to who would be touching him in such a way and extremely uncomfortable at the contact. However, his powerful efforts were in vain; he did not budge an inch. How is this? Growing desperate, he looked past his broad torso to find that he was lying on a wooden table, his thick wrists bound with heavy fetters at his sides and his muscular legs hanging off the far end, ankles chained with similar cuffs to the legs of the table.
“Ah, he awakes at last!” declared a voice from nearby, and the hands were suddenly removed from his chest. Centurious, perturbed by the words that were dripping with sinister plans of things to come, tried his best to get a look at where he was and what was happening to him.
He saw the speaker first, who stepped up and loomed over him as the spine-tingling words finished leaving his mouth. An ageless man with a withered face and a twisted grin, his body cloaked in a dark, hooded robe viciously stained with unknown liquids, his eyes glinting malevolently in the flickering torchlight. As he came closer to the bound Centurious, hands clasped eagerly in front of him, his pair of Daedric gauntlets caught the light, the long, claw-like fingers sending a chill down the captive man’s back.
Past him, standing around or nearby his table, Centurious could see at least ten others - three clad in similar robes to that of the speaker, and seven standing further off in Imperial Guard uniform.
He would have wondered as to why guards were standing around staring at him with these strange robed men, but then he noticed the details of the room itself. Stone brick walls, dim torchlight. Chains hanging from the ceiling and along the sides. Human-sized racks in the corner, vacant cages not far off. Bloodstains speckling the stone floor.
A whole collection of bloody instruments of agony gleaming on the counter not far off.
Centurious was bound in the middle of a torture chamber.
Just as this realization hit him and he started to struggle against his bonds once again, the captive man realized exactly how vulnerable he was. He had no idea what he had been doing before whatever had landed him on that table, but the crested Legionnaire helmet that usually masked his entire face was still safely locked on his bald, hairless head, as were the metal bracers and shinguards on his wrists and lower legs. However, the same could not be said for the rest of him.
His chest had been stripped of his cuirass, leaving the large, toned muscles unguarded and exposed like his gloveless hands. The battle skirt that went over his loincloth had likewise been removed, baring his great thighs and knees. And the sandals that had adorned his feet were nowhere to be found, leaving the bare soles and toes dangling naked in the air below the ankle fetters.
Worst of all, though, was the fact that his giant, cut penis was exposed, naked and erect for all to see, shooting out from the meager loincloth on his pelvis. Below, his ample, hairless testicles were spread out, his big scrotum sweaty and bulging.
He was utterly bound and stripped to destroy his warrior’s pride.
Centurious needed to take charge of his situation. Mustering up his courage and swallowing the humiliation of being thus vulnerable in front of so many onlookers, he asked, “What is the meaning of this? Where am I?” His deep, attractive baritone echoed through his helmet around the dungeon walls, as though to remind him of just how trapped he was.
The robed speaker chuckled darkly, laying one of his gauntleted hands on Centurious’ chest. Squirming, the captured hunk was helpless to move as the cold fingers traced little circles around his nipple. “Oh, my precious,” he drawled, smiling down at Centurious’ feet as his bare toes clenched and unclenched at the contact. “None of that matters now. You belong to us, and we are going to have a very enjoyable experience with you.”
“Never!” Centurious denied fervently, tugging again at his fetters with all his might, but the only response he got was a chorus of laughter that rose up around him. Perhaps….
“Dear slave,” the speaker smirked. “These bonds are enchanted. No weapon, nor magic, nor Shout can break them.” Centurious started in surprise, and the robed man teasingly brought the Daedric claw up to the mouth of his helm. “That’s right, my big Dragonborn, no Shouting your way out. You are ours .”
Shocked, Centurious’ head swam to keep up. These people knew that he was the Dragonborn… and yet, they were holding him captive for no apparent reason in the middle of a torture chamber.
“What… do you want from me?” he at last managed to gasp out, his confidence fading.
Evil grin widening even further, the robed man replied, “Ah, I am so very glad you asked.” And then the Daedric gauntlets started to explore.
“This gorgeous, smooth, hairless skin,” he said, stroking Centurius’ chest. “These incredible muscles, beautiful plump abdominals and nipples.” The claws teased his nipples, and the captive Dragonborn bit back a scream of disgust. “These lovely, massive hands,” he continued, the claws running over the warrior’s big, naked fingers, which clenched in response. “These great, meaty thighs,” and the claws glided over his loincloth and traveled down his bare legs. “These enormous, sweaty, soft, delicious feet,” he marvelled, kneeling out of sight on the floor, the claws gripping his bare soles and with each word uttered, touching a toe on each foot. Centurious kicked and kicked, but his ankles were held fast in place, leaving his feet completely at the mercy of his tormentor.
Then the robed man stood up and, ever so slightly, stroked the massive erection poking out from the Dragonborn’s loincloth with one hand and fondled his scrotum in the other. Centurious’ back arced in horror as he was violated right before his eyes, helpless. “And of course, this long, thick, exquisite, delectable penis, and the plump, juicy, scrumptious sack of testicles.”
As if it could not get any worse, a finger then appeared as a teasing sensation at Centurious’ anal cavity, which was exposed for all to see, and he stiffened in terror at the threat of penetration. His eyes bulged behind his helmet as he watched the robed speaker with one hand on his cock and another inside his loincloth, circling his rim. “Oh, and a big, smelly, tight hole to explore.”
Centurious, unable to hold back anymore, let out a terrific shout that resounded around him on the stone walls tauntingly and fought against the restraints with all his might, fists and toes clenched in consternation. But of course, nothing would give, and the room erupted in another wave of sinister laughter at his futile struggles.
At last the Daedric gauntlets left his body, but before Centurious could draw a breath of relief, the three other robed men he had seen, plus an additional two from behind that he had not been able to, suddenly stepped up, wearing malevolent grins and hungry faces. Six ageless, robed men all standing around his table. The Dragonborn shivered despite the heat of the torture chamber.
“As our guest , you must be familiarized with all of us,” one of the men declared.
“It is only proper that we get to know every part of you,” another added.
“We won’t leave an inch unattended,” assured a third.
And then they all started touching, stroking, and sucking the captive man at once.
The original speaker went back to stroking his member and fondling his scrotum, the claws of his Daedric gauntlets tracing the sensitive skin with devilish finesse. Another man took his fur-gloved hands and ran them all over his massive, naked chest while simultaneously bending down to suck on his nipples. Two more approached the other end of the table and knelt down before each taking one of his enormous, bare feet in their gloved hands, massaging the soft, sweaty soles and sticking the toes in their mouths to suck on. Another vanished below the table and reappeared as a horrifying, warm sensation against his anus - sucking on his ass. And the sixth robed man stood over Centurious’ head and ran his fingers up through the bottom of his helmet to touch his face and bald scalp.
The sensations, happening all at once to the poor bound Dragonborn, were too much for him to process. He had never had his penis and testicles touched, his nipples and feet sucked, his rectum licked, the sanctuary of his helmet invaded. So for all of these violations to befall the captive warrior at once… he did not know what to do. He was too stuck on the what to actually feel the sexual torture. His mind was screeching in disgust, as he instinctively attempted to writhe away from the hands on his chest, to clench his toes out of the mouths of the suckers, to squeeze his anus shut, to turn his head away from the helmet-invader. But all of it was for naught. The ministrations continued.
Centurious grunted and growled in agonized humiliation and extreme discomfort, squirming avidly against his restraints nonstop. He was trying to hold back the screams that were waiting to come out, so as to maintain a shred of his stripped dignity. His breaths were heavy and rapid. Something was stirring within his testicles, and he did not like it at all.
“Cease this at once !” he commanded with all his remaining might, but the man with the hands under his helmet put a finger over his lips and bent down to whisper through the earhole.
“Shh, don’t worry, my precious,” he assured darkly, and pointed to Centurious’ erect cock. “We’re going to milk you for a long, long time, until that big, juicy sac of yours is dry.” Then he indicated the torture tools off to the side. “And then, we’re going to torture you so very much, in so many fun ways.”
Centurious squirmed even harder to escape, the hardest he’d tried yet, but of course, it was to no success. The man at his ear chuckled malevolently over him, bringing his hands down to his armpits and exploring those sweaty cavities while the rest of his cohorts continued working on the Dragonborn.
It was then that the sensations really started to hit for Centurious. The hands on the bare skin of his chest and in his underarms, the tongue snaking around his nipples, warm and strange and unwelcome. The lips sucking on his toes like candies, the tormented extremities clenching and unclenching repeatedly in the mouths of the footsuckers; the hands rubbing the bare soles from heel to toe. The wet tongue circling the rim of his anus, poking inside the helplessly-exposed cavity every so often just to jolt poor Centurious. And the claws gripping and stroking and rubbing his throbbing manhood with increasing power.
The harder his cock and balls were jerked, the more Centurious realized with a dawning horror: he was going to cum. In front of these lunatic torturers and guards, he was going to spill his virgin seed all over himself, unwillingly, naked save for the meager clothing and armor doing nothing to mask his profusely-sweating body bound helplessly to a wooden table by magical restraints.
“No,” he whispered, clenching his fingers and toes, as though to cling onto his semen, to keep it locked away in his balls, away from these gruesome violators who sought to devastate his pride by milking it out of him. But the hands on his manhood were speeding up their terrible ministrations; the tongue in his ass was poking further up into the cavity, up his rectum; the mouths around his feet were sucking and slurping his clenched toes with a feverish vigor.
And despite the Dragonborn’s utter repulsion, Centurious’ cock could not help but tingle and roar with the pleasure of impending orgasm.
A moan filled the air, long and deep, and by the time Centurious realized it was coming from him, it was already too late to stop it. The Daedric gauntlets massaged his cock and testicles relentlessly, mercilessly, with such energy and power as a dragon beating an unlucky adventurer to death. His erection was bigger and thicker than ever in the hands of his tormentor. He stiffened as the tingling crescendoed into a full-on wave of heated bliss that shot up his shaft and washed over his body like a hot spring, clenching his fingers and toes unwittingly at the incredible sensation pouring through him.
Then the fluid poured out of him.
All at once, his cock exploded with a geyser of milky white cum, spraying high up into the air before cascading back down to land all over his body. His naked chest, his thighs, his spread testicles, his arms and legs, his helmet, even the parts of his feet not in the mouths of the torturers - he could feel the warm liquid quickly raining down on every part of him. A great chorus of cheers went up around the room, and all Centurious could do was moan in tortured ecstasy as his penis was still pumped and pumped. The monsoon of semen continued; he came and came and came, for at least a full sixty seconds, the stream of sticky fluid never slowing down its hasty exit from his bloated tip. The robed men, excepting the ones still working on his penis and eating his ass, all dove at his body and started licking and slurping the cum right off his skin. Around his nipples, on his helmet, in his armpits, on his fingers, between his thighs, on top of his feet - no inch was left untreated. And yet the sperm still covered the milked Dragonborn.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of agonizing bliss, the orgasm died down, and the cum stream trickled out to a little leakage of white from his tip. The men all pulled away and let go; the tongue left his ass, the hands left his cock and balls, the mouths sucked their last cumdrops from his muscles. Centurious lay there, panting intensely, utterly spent and defeated, his pride shattered. His legs were spread wide in defeat, at last free of any torturous touch, his feet hanging in shame off the table sides within their fetters. The musky scent of semen - his semen - was thick in the air. The mixture of cum, sweat and saliva on his body was sticky and warm, and he felt unbearably filthy. Overwhelmed and disgusted, he thought there was no way anything could get worse.
“Most excellent. Now, again .”
Again . They were coming back to him for another round of ministrations. Back came the hands on his chest, on his cock, on his balls. Back came the mouths on his feet and at his ass. Back came the voice in his ear whispering about milking, milking, milking him dry .
“Let’s see how this big, juicy, wet cock tastes.”
He could not help it. Centurious screamed as the torturer took his cock in his mouth and sucked.