Page 5 of Tantalized By the Cursed Statue
At this point, Nathaniel’s laughter is starting to get a little manic. It’s gotta be a prank.Nice job, OMR, you crazy nutjob. Nathaniel has to give respect where respect is due. It’s an absurdly elaborate prank. OMR somehow waited for him to get spooked enough to drop his backpack, and then made him listen to his creepy story so he could slip sex toys inside?
Except that Nathaniel was with him the whole time. When could OMR have snuck the objects into his backpack? Unless he had an accomplice…
An undead accomplice with marble, all-seeing eyes…
A cold shiver runs up Nathaniel’s spine.
The main question is: what is he going to do with these things?
Because these are definitely cursed things. They are Cursed Items of Torment—and they’re invading the sanctity of his bedroom! They are tools of submission, and they’re meant to entice him into liking cock!
To a straight man like him, an anal plug and a chastity cage are two of the most cursed objects in existence: tools to subvert his own masculinity and make him submit to a masculine presence. And the statue is one of the most masculine things in existence. When he closes his eyes, all Nathaniel can see is his huge, powerful body and cold marble face.
These are dark tools of seduction, meant to turn Nathaniel against his own nature.
Except…maybe it’s in his own nature to like this kind of creepy stuff.
He can’t deny that his cock is thickened with interest. Certain urges are flooding his body and making his balls feel swollen and sensitive. The statue isn’t a real man, so it doesn’t count.
But if the statue was a real man? It would Dom the living daylights out of him, and there’s a chance that Nathaniel would love every second of it. Held in his stone embrace, he’d be so deliciously helpless. Add to that being locked in a cock cage while something inhumanly large and rigid plunges in and out of him…
He fidgets restlessly, feeling even more blood rush down to his cock, making it harden with sensitivity.
To be completely honest, Nathaniel has thought about locking himself in chastity before, but the idea of it has always felt a little ridiculous without someone else to enjoy his frustration.
The statue would enjoy his frustration. Nathaniel’s very familiar with the commanding look in his eye. He’s glanced up at that handsome stone face almost every day for the last four years. Those thick fingers are spread out and waiting to sensitize him, discipline and control him, maybe even hurt him with too much pleasure.
The statue isn’t a real person, Nathaniel knows that. He doesn’t believe in ghost stories. But he’s hard, solid stone, and that makes him real enough.
And Nathaniel’s life is already kinda cursed. What are another couple of things to add to the mix?
He knows this is horny logic, but he picks up the cage anyway. And with an eager breath, he shoves it onto his half-hard flesh.
The cage begins to vibrate. He lets out a groan, just a little too aroused to be terrified. Okay, fine, it’s one of those.
There’s nothing he can really do but laugh at the whole fucked-up concept of a vibrating chastity cage. An object thatonly serves to torment the wearer. It reallyisa cursed object. Good thing he secretly likes this kind of fucked-up stuff.
He slides the padlock closed, trapping his cock inside the cruel vibrating bars.
If the statue reallyisalive with some kind of cruel intelligence, he’s probably just as fucked-up as Nathaniel. Which is kinda a comforting thought, in a ridiculous way. It’s nice to have an imaginary fucked-up friend. A friend who likes to tease him.
The device buzzes around his trapped erection, pulsing hard enough to make Nathaniel’s heart pound against his ribcage. He knows from past experience that this is a bad combination: fear, excitement, horniness. His balls draw tight, wanting to release their load.
He could unlock himself, but that wouldn’t break the curse.
His eyes travel to the large stone cock. It would look good with some lube on it. So he gets out the bottle and drenches it in slick.
Sure enough, itdoeslook good, glistening in the light of his bedside lamp, almost like a real, living erection. He runs his hand up and down it, feeling the contours of its masculinity. The artistry of the veins, the lifelike mushroom head, even the ridiculously huge stone balls at the base. It’s growing warm to the touch, but that’s probably because he’s rubbing it a little.
And now that it’s covered in lube, he might as well try…
He lies back on his bed and takes hold of the base of it. Lays the length of it between his legs. The cock is an enormous heavy weight that settles against his crease with sinister intent. Tentatively, he pushes the wide cockhead against his hole.
It’s cold and unforgiving.
Far too big for him to manage. And the way it looks—fully erect next to his caged, teased member? It’s obscene.
With an embarrassed groan, he sets it back on the table. He doesn’t know what he’s thinking; he’s an anal virgin. The curse will have to wait another day. His body isn’t going to surrender to that monster.
