Malzahar Bound


Malzahar had almost forgotten what it felt like to be a man. Since his visions of “The Void” began, the thoughts that drove a mortal began to fade and the prophet was born. His fractured mind stilled by the emptiness, the hungering dark driving his will. He was no longer human, but an instrument of the void; the herald of its coming.

Not everyone “bought into his religion,” so to speak. At least those were the words of his latest opponent. A man who had also given his mind to the dark, but following the path of shadows.

Never did the prophet question the void, which turned into his downfall. “Finish it then,” Malzahar sneered, beaten on the ground with the ninja stepping on his very chest.  You could almost see the smug grin under Zed’s steel mask as he gloated, “And send your soul to the void you’re so eager to embrace? ...I think I shall keep you bound to that mortal body of yours longer.”

He had held true to his word. Dragging the beaten mage back to his temple, the ninja had stripped Malzahar of everything save his distinctive hood before inducting him into the dungeon.

Now Malzahar found himself in a prison cell so heavily warded even the whispers of the void couldn’t reach his mind. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, the prophet could hear only his own thoughts. He was, for better or worse, perfectly sane and cohesive. He could actually think and feel like the man he once used to be.

Which was not much of a blessing in his current situation. It was easy to realize Zed was the kind of man who wanted to prove a point with his dominance, as he had tied up his captive. And to call the restraints inescapable was an understatement.

Malzahar was looking down his own muscled body, trussed up in layers of constricting and unforgivingly tight rope. There was almost an art to the ropework, colorful red lines forming patterns along his muscles, molding the shapes of his bulk to bulge out even more, all while fixating his anatomy into one immobile and vulnerable position like a sculpture.

And now that he could finally feel again, he got to “enjoy” the feeling of being constricted, squeezed and stuck. With the cold dungeon air licking against his bared skin, every drop of sweat running down his exhausted body as he attempted to escape.

"Mmmpfh- ommph.” He grunted, his voice muffled by the large plastic ball lodged deep inside his mouth, his jaw already sore from being unable to close and relax for hours on end.

But the most damning of all was his cock. His captor had not shown his manhood any mercy, making sure the rope coiled several times around his base so tightly that his balls popped out like smooth cherries with his hard iron dangling in the air like a solid handle. Worse of all, it felt so intense and tight that his bound erection kept throbbing, begging for attention and release.

It didn’t take a scholar to understand Zed’s reasoning. He had beaten Malzahar in a fight, and now he was demonstrating his dominance. Not just over Malzahar’s might, but his very sex.

Was it to prove to Malzahar was still just a man? Was it something as primal as to prove who the superior male was by dominating his masculinity?  Or was it simply an act of lust, using his victory to fulfill his desires?

“Mmmpfh,” Malzahar grunted again, uncertain of what he would come to experience in this captivity.

One thing was certain. Now he was no longer a prophet nor a man. He had been reduced to an object with no ability to speak or move, only waiting for his “owner” to use him. A slave to his new master’s desires.

And… somehow, he longed for it. The longer he spent struggling and moaning, the more his lust overwhelmed his mind, craving pleasure and the sweet sensation of release.

“It looks like you’re all ready,” Zed’s whispery voice taunted as he materialized from the shadows, almost licking up against Malzahar’s floating bound body. His gloved hands creeping over his prize, measuring the captive wizard’s form.

Malzahar moaned and nodded shamefully, so horny now he could barely focus a thought and willingly submitting to his new master with precum already leaking from the tip of his impatient dick. “I’ll make you forget the void,” Zed pledged.

Piece by Hom0Zed
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