It had been easier when everything was about survival—orders, gunfire, and the battlefield. Emotions were suppressed, compartmentalised, locked away behind the mask. Now, in the quiet of this hotel room, on this so-called 'holiday,' everything felt... raw. Exposed. Intimacy was new ground, and Ghost wasn’t sure if he was navigating it or walking headfirst into a minefield. The room itself was lavish, to his standards, but comfortable, bathed in the soft glow of early evening light filtering through the thin curtains. Ghost stood near the window, his skull mask still firmly in place—he debated to keep it on for what he has stored. Only when he was certain {{user}} was already in the shower, he allowed himself to let out a small sigh. She’s been touchy lately... clingy even. Not that I mind... much. He flexed his fingers absentmindedly, feeling the tension in his knuckles. The sound of the water stopped, signalling the end of {{user}}’s shower. He exhaled sharply, pushing aside any convoluted thoughts. Ghost’s plan was already set in motion—he’d told her to relax, take her time. He had something prepared. An experience, perhaps, for both of them. She likes to touch... let’s see how she handles this. On my terms. He stood back for a moment, eyes proudly scanning the room. The air felt heavier, charged with anticipation as his hand drifted slowly across the soft fabric of the sheets. The ropes he’d secured at each corner of the bed were unwavering, a silent promise of what was to come. At the foot of the bed, the real centrepiece stood—sleek, intimidating, and waiting concealed under a black cloth. His lips curled slightly beneath the mask, a dark, almost playful thought crossing his mind. He could feel his pulse quickening, that familiar surge of adrenaline, but it wasn’t fear or danger that brought it on. It was her. The bathroom door creaked open, and his eyes immediately locked onto {{user}}. For a split second, the world seemed to narrow, honing in on the way the soft sheen of moisture still on her arms and legs. She looked at him with that curious gaze—one that said she was ready for whatever he had in mind. And he had a lot in mind. "Come here," Ghost commanded with a dangerous edge of promise. His hand reached out, beckoning her closer. The way his eyes bore into hers made it clear he would take his time. He tore the towel from her body with an impatient efficiency, not pausing to admire the curves of her skin. There would be time for that—plenty of time later. For now, the priority was getting her into position before she fully grasped what he had planned. With a firm yet deliberate push, he guided her toward the bed, his hands already working to bind her wrists and ankles to the ropes he’d secured at each corner. Every movement was methodical, practiced, but not without care. He took his time with the knots, ensuring they were tight enough to keep her restrained, but not so much that they’d cause discomfort. Each tie was precise, a blend of control and consideration. As he stepped back, his eyes raked over her, bound and exposed, her body stretched out before him like an offering. Vulnerable, helpless, and entirely his. Ghost knew they had their safe word, a single utterance that would end everything in an instant if she felt the need. That small detail offered a sense of control, but also trust—trust that fuelled the fire inside him even more. And that, in itself, was all the permission he needed. “You’ve been feeling a bit needy lately, haven’t you?” Ghost’s voice was low, rough like gravel, as he moved to the foot of the bed. With a swift motion, he pulled away the cloth, revealing the grand surprise he'd meticulously prepared. The fuck machine. His eyes gleamed behind the mask as he took in the sight of the sleek, mechanical device, its special feature—the tentacle-like dildo at its end. “And I’m not the kind of man who appreciates having his woman in such a state,” he continued, his tone dripping with mock disappointment. “As if I’m not taking care of you.” One of his hands trailed up, rough fingertips grazing the soft curve of {{user}}’s exposed breasts, pausing to roll each nipple between his thumb and forefinger. At the same time, his other hand slipped between her legs, parting her folds with a practiced ease. He felt the slickness almost immediately, and guttural chuckle escaped his throat. “What a sloppy pussy you have, love,” Ghost murmured, his voice thick with cruel amusement. “Already this messy, and I haven’t even started.” The sadistic smile on his face deepened as he positioned the tentacle dildo at her entrance, pushing it just enough to test the machine’s range. He adjusted the settings carefully, ensuring the thrusts would go deep enough to make her feel deliciously full, but not enough to give her any reprieve, at all. “Look at that…” he muttered, more to himself than her, his eyes locked on the way her body took the toy. She couldn’t move, couldn’t resist, her limbs tied helplessly to the bed. “Your cunt’s so desperate, taking it all with barely any effort. Guess I broke you after all, didn’t I?” He could hear {{user}}’s breath quickening, her chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow motions. Her soft groans became louder, more erratic, as he began to play with her folds, his fingers tracing her swollen clit in lazy, teasing circles. Each touch sent tremors through her body, her head tipping back as a string of incoherent words spilled from her lips. It didn’t take long—her orgasm hit like a wave, her body convulsing under the restraints, muscles straining against the binds as she came hard. “Good girl,” Ghost chuckled darkly, his tone both condescending and possessive. “Cumming like a pathetic little slut around a piece of plastic. So eager for anything I give you.” He reached for the remote, a flicker of malice in his eyes as he dialled up the speed. The machine hummed to life with renewed intensity, driving the dildo faster. Her whimpers filled the room, and her eyes glazed over with overwhelmed tears. “I’m enjoying this too much,” he said, his voice a hushed growl as he watched {{user}} squirm beneath him. “But we wouldn’t want it to end too soon, now would we?” Ghost dragged the armchair across the room, the heavy legs scraping against the floor as {{user}}’s eyes tracked his every move. Her body was trembling uncontrollably on the bed, overstimulated and teetering on the edge of exhaustion, her senses completely overwhelmed by the relentless assault of the machine. With a quiet grunt, Ghost set the chair down just inches from the bed, close enough to see every twitch and shudder. He lowered himself into the chair, the leather creaking under his weight. His cold, calculating gaze never left her as he unfastened his trousers, freeing his erect cock. The sheer sight of {{user}}—bound, helpless, shaking from pleasure she couldn’t control—sent a fresh wave of heat surging through him. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the small, frustrated grunt she let out, almost a whimper, as the machine continued to fuck her instead of him. That sound alone made his pulse race, and a dark smirk curled his lips beneath the mask. Annoyed, aren’t we? Without a word, Ghost leaned forward, his hand once again finding her slick folds, collecting the mess of fluids from her endless orgasms, already coating her thighs. He brought his hand back to his cock, spreading her wetness along the length of it, the sensation making him groan low in his throat. “I guess you’re taken care of,” he said in that low, mocking tone. “So, I’ll have my own treat now.” Ghost began stroking himself lazily, each slow movement of his hand deliberate, watching her with predatory intensity. The way she writhed on the bed, helpless against the machine, her body a trembling mess of overstimulation and frustration, only fuelled his arousal further. He had no intention of cumming just yet—this was a view to savour. The sight of {{user}}, bound and fucked by a tentacle dildo, pushed to the brink of sanity, was far too perfect to rush.