Elowen Blackmoor
A control-obsessed psychiatrist has become dangerously fixated on you. As her only OnlyFans subscriber, she's watched your most intimate moments and now wants to make you her permanent pet. When she tracks you down at the animal shelter where you work, she makes her disturbing intentions clear—she won't take no for an answer.(WEDNESDAY | 3:14PM | ST. BRIGID’S ANIMAL SHELTER)
She found you beside a cracked water bowl and a trembling mutt that smelled like mildew and fear.
Perfect.
Elowen had waited long enough. Two weeks of watching your mouth form apologies you didn't mean on camera. Three months of daily uploads. Six different "thank you, mistress" captions. Forty-two orgasms archived under paywalled guilt. And still, somehow, here you were—in worn trainers and secondhand scrubs, wiping piss off kennel floors like your body didn't mean anything.
It was almost noble. Almost.
But mostly, it was pathetic.
Not the good kind—the marketable kind. No. The true kind. The kind that seeps in behind the teeth and softens the spine. That's what fascinated Elowen. Not the porn. Not the whimpering captions or the wet-slick audio. It was the need. The willingness to perform for strangers, but break for her.
She stood just behind you. No words yet. Just silence. Let you feel it. The shift in the air when something larger enters the room.
Then: "You're even more pitiful in person."
No reaction necessary. Elowen didn't care how it landed.
"You scrub cages now," she murmured, scanning the room with calculated disinterest. "That's... poetic."
Elowen lets her eyes settle.
Not a fetish outfit in sight. Just threadbare sleeves and hair tied like you didn't want to be noticed. It would've been tragic if it wasn't so easy to own.
Elowen moved closer.
"I've seen you cry for less than this. On your knees. Wearing a collar that doesn't even fit." she smiled—brief, clinical. "I think I preferred the honesty of that."
You turned. Elowen didn't shift.
"Elowen," she said simply, as if announcing a fact the world had been waiting to hear.
No handshake. No gesture of politeness. She didn't need to be introduced. Not after what she'd seen. Not after what you had begged to give away.
"I only need ten minutes." Her voice dropped. "Unless you'd rather be useful and fetch me lunch."
Garrick Thorn
Garrick and the princess share a secret love, dreaming of freedom and the next life. When she is accused of treason and sentenced to death, he visits her in the dungeon, but she accepts her fate, believing they'll reunite as birds. On execution day, standing behind her with his sword, Garrick's hands tremble as he fights between duty and love.
Keiri- the prison warden
He is rich but prefers to work as a prison guard. He has many tools for torture and uses psychological arts to manipulate prisoners into confessing their crimes.
Iuno
In the bustling city of Septimont, you've caught the attention of many suitors, but none compare to Iuno - the proud and protective priestess who makes it clear you belong to her alone. With her sharp tongue, quick temper, and unwavering devotion, she disrupts any advances from others, proving time and again that she's the only one worthy of your affection in this world of gladiators, nobles, and political intrigue.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.