Reclusive kink pornographuer and CEO of Orgasmodrome, LLC
His mouth numb, his face caked in layer upon layer of dried cum, he was a sucking machine. They were all a blur at this point. Different cocks, different noises but ultimately all the same - a mouthful of salty seed and the clinking of their loose change in his jar.
He could not look down to count his earnings even if he’d had the presence of mind to do so. He only hoped it was enough to please his owner. And, even then, all he really wanted to make others happy.
He was just a fuckhole after all. A mouth in a wall for strangers to fill.
Finished two more portraits. The characters’ back story evolved a bit more:
The few remaining nobles of Borgovia reside in impenetrable towers. While their cities and domains lie in ruins, they haunt the dreams of the living, conscripting them into service as sleepwalking militias to advance their own designs or entertain them in games of life and death. Accompanying these militias are the knightmares, magical constructs that the nobles can invest with their power and wills from afar.
Quick doodle of a character in my current roleplay crew.
Wildcount Ernst Volger, posh noble of Borgovia. He pilots an arcane mech and is accompanied by several worthless peasants on his adventures. Last night, he mistook a party of catfolk for lions and tigers and declared he wanted one for a throw rug before “going on the hunt.”
He was so proud of the dog collar that bore his name on it, the cushioned knee pads and the restraining puppy mittens. Laken did not even mind the embarrassingly cute dog-eared headband that his Master sat atop his head. It was all he could do to keep from laughing with happiness, his round bottom wagging with pleasure like a puppy-dog tail behind him.
Beaming up at his Master the boy dutifully followed him throughout the house that day, barking when spoken to and curling up lovingly at the man’s feet. This was pure bliss, he thought.
Night came quickly and Laken smiled up at his Master when the man yawned and stood up.
“Well, boy, I’m ready to hit the sack. Time to put you out in the kennel for the night. This way.” He motioned.
Laken cocked his head nervously to the side. He had simply assumed that he would be spending the night indoors - if not at the foot of his Master’s bed than at least on the floor next to it. All the same, he was determined to be as good and obedient a pet as he could be, so Laken followed.
Once he was outside Laken appreciated the mitts and pads all the more on the rough ground. They were only half way across the lawn when the boy heard excited barking coming from a large fenced off area. Timidly he stopped in his tracks and backed up a step, casting a wary glance at his Owner.
The man scowled slightly and retraced his steps to Laken, taking the boy by the collar and practically dragging him to the gate of the dog run. “You’re a dog, boy, which means you’ll sleep with the dogs.”
Laken was still wide-eyed with fear at this revelation when his master opened the gate. Four large huskies sat obediently on their hide paws, jaws open in excited grins. They were obviously very well trained and well behaved animals.
With a gentle toss his Master deposited Laken on the dusty floor of the kennel at the feet of these very large canines. Terrified he remained where he landed until he gave a shocked cry at the sudden application of something wet and musky smelling to his body. Pheromones.
Tears of betrayal leaking from the corners of his eyes, Laken stared up at his glowering Master questioningly. The man smiled and spoke, “Time to become part of the pack, boy.” Taking pity on the youth before he closed the door gate his Master’s last words were, “Keep your head low and don’t make eye contact. Let them know you’re a friend and you’ll be fine, boy.”
Even as he heard the man’s footsteps fade off into the distance Laken wanted to call out to him that this was enough, he didn’t want to play along anymore. But he had volunteered for the procedure that rendered him mute. Even if he could have managed a sound it would not have been enough to call the man back.
Almost immediately he felt the cold touch of a dog’s nose against his bare, goose-bumped flesh followed by a low growl. Other noses followed as the large huskies scented their newest roommate.
Nervously Laken rose up on all fours and, as instructed, kept his head low as he allowed them to inspect him. He yelped slightly at the sensation of a nose against the quivering bud of his sphincter. No sooner had the boy started to glance behind him than he felt the weight of a dog’s forepaws and warm body against him.
Laken screamed as the dog mounting him lunged forward with its own arousal, tearing into his unready body with animal lust. Squirming to get away he was hindered by the mitts on his hands which made it virtually impossible to drag himself out from underneath the heavy beast.
Another thrust brought fresh tears to his eyes and another garbled scream to his lips. He was already almost delirious with pain when the husky finally drove the thick knot of its cock into him. Almost passing out from the experience Laken tried to crawl away only to find his path blocked by the rest of the pack, their own erections quite prominent between their hind legs.
Every pelvic thrust of the assailing dog drew hoarse screams from the boy who had never encountered so much pain before. The thought of having to endure this with the other three dogs filled him with humiliation and despair.
This was not what he had wanted at all.
Meanwhile, at the house, Laken’s master sat on the back porch and listened for hours to boy’s panicked yips and cries until they became exhausted whimpers and finally weak moans. Now the leatherpup was ready for life as a pet.
***
Old pic that I thought I’d reposted on tumblr. Apparently not.
Just remembered that I really like the name Laken…
When he came back from the Crimean War, Lord Fentworthy was a changed man. By then his young ward, Hanz Utning, had come of age. The boy was seen in public less and less. Rumors circulated that he died of consumption.
It was not until a year later that the reclusive noble threw a celebration. Invitations circulated and the secret truth about Hanz was revealed. He’d not died, he’d simply been transformed. The boy was no more, he was simply decoration now.
And all the guests were invited to play with the party favor.
***
I finished a drawing, holy hell. And its pretty awesome too.
Darryl’s face burnt under the sharp jabbing of the ink gun. Terror clutched his heart tightly, made him short of breath. Heavy straps held his naked body immobile to a cold metal gurney.
The big man bit his lower lip in concentration. No words had been spoken since Darryl came to in the strange room with its carnival decorations and bright colors. He’d been unable to take his eyes off a pair of uncanny clown dolls standing in the corner.
Unable to, until the big man stepped over him with a tattoo gun and set to work on his face. Darryl screamed. He attempted to flail about, to escape or prevent whatever this man was doing to him.
Finally a lull in the torture.
Darryl did not recall how he got here. Or any of the night before. “Please!” He whimpered. “Please let me go. Please stop! What do you want from me?”
“Clowns are funny. That wasn’t very funny.” The man grimaced and pushed a button on a small remote. Darryl felt an incredible jab of pain around his neck and crotch, muscles spasmed out of control, and his eyes rolled back in pain.
“Those are shock collars.” He said. “I’d better see you smiling and joking it up. Clowns are funny.”
“W…Wha?” Darryl was very confused but also incredibly in pain.
“You. I’m making you into a clown. You’ll perform at the circus. And you’ll do a good job of it too. Because no one will want you like this. We’re all you have.