12,099
restrained

restrained

0 Followers
1girlbreastsblushlong hairnippleslarge breastsnudeuncensoredheteropussysweatcompletely nudesolo focuspenisboundlooking at viewerindoorsnavelbdsmsolomultiple boysasssexbarefootthighsbondagevaginalclosed mouthblue eyesopen mouth
AI art "2..."
2

2...

warmicestudios
AI art "Some Frieren experiments"
4

Some Frieren experiments

zuzul
AI art "Fern Gangbang"
24

Fern Gangbang

blackhairedstudent
AI art 'Nagatoro Bukkake'
30

Nagatoro Bukkake

blackhairedstudent
AI art "Poison Ivy enjoying some alone time"

Poison Ivy enjoying some alone time

classyrestrain
AI art 'Cherry Bomb is into BDSM?' with user description 'Oh my dear Cherry, you're so sassy and kinky! You have that pretty face but that crazy mind.'
6

Cherry Bomb is into BDSM?

cef_ultra
AI art "Restrained kitty"
12

Restrained kitty

zuzul
AI art 'Chika Dark Fantasy' with user description 'The air in chika's pink room was still, save for the rhythmic turning of pages. Chika Fujiwara sat huddled over a tattered, leather-bound volume she’d found in the deep recesses of the academy library, It was a dark, grim fantasy—a world of mud, iron, and a fallen princess sold into the service of the common folk. To Chika, whose life was defined by bright lights and tabletop games, the sheer, gritty weight of the narrative was intoxicating. She clutched the book to her chest, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "If only..." she whispered, the thought fluttering away before she could catch it. Suddenly, the ink on the pages began to bleed. The shadows in the corners of the room stretched like ink in water, swirling into a localized distortion that swallowed the light. Chika gasped, her pink hair whipping around her face as the floor beneath her vanished. With a heavy thud, she landed on damp, cold earth. The smell hit her first: woodsmoke, unwashed bodies, and wet hay. She wasn't in Shuchiin anymore. "Hey, lookee dat," a raspy voice croaked. Chika looked up, trembling. Standing over her were three men, their clothes little more than stained rags, their skin caked in layers of soot and grime. They looked down at her with yellowed eyes. "She be right purty," the first one said, his English mangled and thick. "She look like dem high-borns. We sell 'er to noble for silver, eh?" The second man, shorter and missing several teeth, shook his head. "No, check 'er first. If she be clean, she worth more. Kings pay gold—hunnid gold coins—for a maiden." "No way she be," the third grumbled. "But we look. Girl! Open up. We see if you be worth de gold." Chika’s heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She was terrified, the reality of the situation far colder than the words on the page, yet a strange, frantic energy raced through her. With shaking hands, she did as she was told, her eyes watering as the angry one pushed her aside to check for himself. "She is!" he roared, a jagged grin breaking across his face. "She be a gold mine!" They began to cheer, a cacophony of rough laughter. But the practical one soon silenced them. "How we get to Capital? We got no copper. Not a single coin for de road. It be six moon walk." Chika, still trembling on the ground, looked up with a strange, feverish light in her eyes. The fear was there, but so was a desperate desire to fit into the dark narrative she had craved. "Wait..." she whispered, her voice cracking. "Do... do kings care about the back way? If I stay a maiden for the king, can't you sell my behind to the commoners? You could make the silver for the journey that way." The men froze, looking at each other in stunned silence before the small one burst into a cackle. "Smart girl! She got de spirit! Kings don't care 'bout de back way, right? We sell dat to de locals. Make de coin for de bread and de boots. She still be maiden for de King at de end." "Great idea," the angry one nodded, looking at her with newfound greed. "But we need steel. A man strong and mean so no one steal de gold or break de prize." They dragged Chika to the edge of the village, to a hut that smelled of cold iron. There sat a man built like a mountain, scarred and silent. The three men negotiated fervently. The big man didn't want their non-existent coins. He looked at Chika, his gaze heavy and formidable. He agreed to protect the "merchandise" on one condition: he would have his turn with her behind every night of the journey. The trio agreed instantly; it was a small price to pay for such a lethal shadow. And so, the long trek began. From village to town, the word spread. In the daylight, Chika was a commodity. Guards, minor nobles, and even laborers who had scraped together their last silver coins lined up. Chika lived in a blur of gray skies and rough hands, the mountain of a man always standing just a few feet away, his hand on his sword hilt. When one traveler grew too greedy and tried to claim more than he had paid for, the guard’s blade was out in a flash. The traveler’s screams echoed through the trees, a permanent warning to all others. By night, the firelight cast long shadows as the four men took what they considered their due. Six months passed in this grueling rhythm. The girl who had played games in a clean, brightly lit room was gone, replaced by someone who lived for the dirt and the chaotic, crushing reality of the road. To her own shock, the fear had long since melted into a perverse sort of devotion to her new life. As the spires of the Capital finally appeared on the horizon, Chika looked back at the muddy trail behind them. For the "Love Detective," these weren't just the darkest days of her life—they were the most vivid she had ever known.'
30

Chika Dark Fantasy

blackhairedstudent
AI art

Senza titolo

lukeeees1
AI art
4

Senza titolo

chainny
AI art 'The Goth Queen' with user description 'Every knot is a question. Every inch of hemp is a boundary redefined. She doesn't just wear the restraints; she inhabits them. In the stillness of the studio, the only thing louder than the friction is her unwavering gaze.'

The Goth Queen

cef_ultra
AI art 'Nana-cha: The Anchor 🕸️⛓️' with user description 'The room is dead quiet—a sharp, uncomfortable departure from the hurricane of energy that usually follows her. Nana-cha has always been the girl who refuses to be still, the one who leaves trails of chaos and color everywhere she goes. But tonight, the motion has finally stopped. The hemp isn’t a restraint; it’s a mapping of her resolve. Every inch of tension is a conversation between her impulsive heart and the immovable weight of the knots. She’s staring into the lens, that familiar, defiant spark still alive, but it’s anchored now. She isn't caught. She’s chosen the exact frequency of her own surrender. And honestly? The silence she’s projecting is heavier than anything she’s ever screamed.'
9

Nana-cha: The Anchor 🕸️⛓️

cef_ultra
AI art 'Hina's Story: Trial Runs Part 2' with user description 'Hina couldn’t take it. Level two was just too much. As best as she could, she tried to hold back the moans threatening to escape but it was a losing battle. Just as she was about to gave in, the intensity dropped to level one. “Young girl, if you aren’t feeling, I have a honey lemon drop that could help” Trying anything to distract herself, she reaches out to grab the drop, “Thank you, si-” Level two. Hina freezes before grabbing the drop, to focused and aroused by the return of the new level. The subway stops and the old man stands, ready to get down. The old man places the drop in her hand and closes her hands around it. “Take care of yourself young one, my stop is here but try not going out when you aren’t well. Level one. Hina shakily relaxes, “Thank you for the kind words.” As the old man leaves, Hina finally takes time to understand her current dilemma. Looks like the second level has her alternating between all the levels. And unfortunately for, she was only two minutes into the round trip. The subway continued its journey, but Hina’s was just beginning. She tried her best to keeping quiet, pressing her hands against where the device was wreaking havoc. Level two. Hina crossed her legs, leaned forward trying to keep her composure. Demo mode. Momentary relax. Level two. She leans back in her seat, eyes squeezed shut and beginning to tear up. covering her mouth to stop any sound from escaping, the other pressed against the device thinking it would ease the stimulation. Not a chance. This endless song and dance felt like torture for the next fifteen minutes as there were multiple stops that day. But the worst part was that Hina was kept at edge unable to release, conflicted on if this was a blessing or a curse. As the subway approached the final stop and the doors opened, Hina rushed out hiding somewhere to try to calm herself. But as she stepped out, the device stopped. Sweating profusely, Hina leans against a wall on the verge of crying. Her phone vibrates, scaring Hina as she thought there was a second device. “Almost done, just need to get level three data and we are done.” Hina lets out a defeated moan. Tired, she heads back to the park before collapsing into the grass, her legs giving way from the earlier exertion. “What have I gotten myself into? This is not what I signed up for.” Well, you did. Verbally at least. So, let’s finish up. At that moment level three begins, and it was far more intense than anything Hina had expected from the tiny demon. She immediately bought her knees to her chest, hands desperately pressed between her legs, her juices flowing between her fingers. Hina couldn’t make a sound, her whole body affected by the strong tremors, but the warmth was quickly spreading from her head to her toes. “This is it! I can finally-” Gone. Done. Disappeared. Hina relaxes, hands and legs spread. Defeated “I’m done, I can’t do this anymore. It’s too much Yuki.” The tears started flowing as Hina was still recovering from the intensity of the final level. Her phone vibrates again, slowly Hina reads the message from Yuki. Just one word. “Office.” Hina gets, the office thankfully a short walk from the park. As Hina walks in Yuki gives her friend a hug. “You did well, to be honest level three is pretty intense.” Hina, looking at her friend with wet eyes, “You monster, I was on edge all day. I was absolutely terrified someone would catch me.” “Hina,” Yuki smiled, “did you forget your safe word?” Hina freezes, recalling the words Yuki left her with before the first level. Why hadn’t she used it? Sure her pride would have prevented her from doing so, but not even once had it occurred to her that there was one. There was no way. Was she secretly enjoying-? No. She couldn’t bring herself to admit that. “Well as a reward I have something that I think you desperately need” She took Hina to the storage closet where a chair and belts her situated. “What is this-“ “Trust me, take off your heels and take a seat. Hina obeys, doing as Yuki said and taking a seat. Yuki grabs the leather belts, securing Hina to the chair, arms tied behind her back, resulting in a frog tie, her feet off the ground. She rips apart her hose, to Hina’s surprise and inserts the device, noting it looked a little different from the one from earlier. Still not done, Yuki unbuttons Hina’s top, attaching two vibrators, one for each nipple. Just as Hina was about to ask, Yuki forces a ring gag into her mouth, stopping her question. Finally she places a blindfold, heightening Hina’s senses of her current situation. After admiring her work, Yuki grabs sound proof headphones and leans next to Hina’s ear. “Have fun girl, and by the way, this one is version two, and has a level four. Enjoy.” Yuki then places the headphones on and closes the door as she leaves. “WHAT!? YUKI PLEASE I CAN’T! COME BACK” but the ring gag prevented anything understandable from coming out. She begins fighting her bonds but to no avail. The conclusion Part 3 soon!'
5

Hina's Story: Trial Runs Part 2

mellmell1
AI art 'An appreciation for Psylocke.'
7

An appreciation for Psylocke.

ulyth
AI art "[Request] Weekend Getaway with Michelle"
30

[Request] Weekend Getaway with Michelle

dreamerofdreams
AI art 'Aura Captured' with user description 'The snow crunched beneath my boots as I approached the tavern, a solitary beacon of warmth in this frozen wasteland. My violet hair whipped in the biting wind, and the **Scales of Obedience** at my hip rattled—a reminder of my absolute authority. I, Aura the Guillotine, did not fear these mortals. They were but insects whose lives were measured in the weight of their souls. As I reached the door, an old, obese man blocked my path, his face a map of filth and scars. "You killed them all," he rasped. "My entire bloodline. I challenge you, Aura. A measure of souls." My pride was my undoing. I scanned his mana; it was pathetic. I could have ended him instantly, but I wanted to see the despair on his face when his own soul condemned him. I summoned the Scales, pouring my vast, ancient mana into my side. The scale tipped instantly toward me. But seconds before his mana touched the plate, he drained a shimmering vial. It was a **Potion of Infinite Illusion**. It didn’t actually increase his power, but it tricked the magical logic of the scales, making his mana appear as a bottomless, infinite abyss for five crucial seconds. The balance slammed down on his side with the force of a falling mountain. Because the scale "saw" him as superior, its magic bound my very soul to his will. "Silence," he commanded, his voice cold and flat. "Speak only when I tell you to. Only do what I want you to do." He took me to his new home town, a place I destroyed 60 years ago, rebuilt by the child i dis not kill that time.. he ordered me to serve every one of them, and i Did... one after another, no resting.. some where big, big as monsters, their bodies made mine look small, After forty-eight hours of being used by every man in his village—my demonic body cruelly resetting my anatomy to a virgin state after every violation—he led me to a stone square. "Put your head and hands through here," he ordered, pointing to a heavy, stone-and-iron guillotine frame. "**Wait here in this position in silence until I return. And keep serving anyone who comes to use you.**" He never came back. I have been in this position for seven hundred years. My neck and wrists are locked into the frame, my spine permanently arched, my rear perpetually exposed to the whims of the kingdom that grew around my shackle. I have forgotten the sound of my own voice; the concept of speech has withered in my mind like a dead leaf. I have forgotten the taste of food and the warmth of a bed. Most importantly, I have never slept. My demonic stamina ensures I remain wide awake, forced to witness every second of my degradation through the centuries. The square is never empty. I have become a living monument, a landmark of flesh and stone. Around the base of my pedestal, a permanent slum of forty hobos has taken root. They live in wretched huts built against my legs, treating my body as a communal hearth. While the city sleeps, they take turns fucking me all night long, their unwashed bodies a constant weight against my cold skin. During the day, travelers from across the world join the queue. Sometimes five or six men use me simultaneously—one at my mouth, others at my pussy and anus—clambering over each other to claim a piece of the monster. My body is a cursed masterpiece of regeneration. It is a biological nightmare of rapid recovery. One second, a man withdraws and my ass is left **extremely gaped**, a dark, distended void pulsing from the trauma of his intrusion; in the very next second, the demonic magic surges through my tissue, sealing the opening until it is **virgin again**. I am a perpetual loop of destruction and restoration, a tight, "pure" vessel that is torn open by the next stranger only to reset before his seed even cools. I no longer think of magic. The only thing that exists is the count. I have become a living abacus. One billion. One billion and ten. The number is the only thing I truly know. I watch the fashion of the men change and the seasons bleed into centuries. I am a hole in the center of the world, a silent vessel that has processed the seed of entire lineages. I am the first demon to ever feel the sting of a tear, a single drop of salt water that has carved a permanent track down my weathered face—a testament to a billion men and an eternity of silence.'
30

Aura Captured

blackhairedstudent
AI art "The Legend of Dalia: Rise of the Pleasure Vicar"
18

The Legend of Dalia: Rise of the Pleasure Vicar

octavian
AI art 'Goblins enjoying Frieren' with user description 'Well to be honest with you guys if i were one of those goblins i would have taken some too 🙄​'
11

Goblins enjoying Frieren

herlin
AI art for prompt: 'Futanari spreading her ass. Soft cock. Cum dripping from penis. Bondage. Focus on asshole. Tired look. Full naked.'

Senza titolo

hanime34
AI art "Weiss schnee"
6

Weiss schnee

sagajay
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