your patron saint of lust.
he had no idea that his body could feel so tired, that he could feel so...what was the word, wrecked? he felt drained and groggy, like his whole body was heavy and he could barely twitch his fingers where they lay out against what seemed to be silk sheets. mitsutada didn't remember having anything like this back home, so he couldn't be home. so, where was he, exactly? attempting to bring his hand down to run over his face and brush away his hair, he was met with strong resistance and the clanging of chains firmly affixed to something incredibly sturdy. even his eyes were sore and he couldn't quite remember why just yet. there was something in his mouth, that he could feel for sure, and he tried to push it out, but noted it was attached behind his head; it tasted like rubber. he could barely swallow past the taste and it left very little room for him to speak in any coherent language. mitsutada noted, with clarity, that the room was warm, he was warm, and he was also immensely thirsty. he was dying for water but with his hands bound and something muffling his voice, he doubted he was going to get anywhere trying to ask just where he was and what was going on.
his wings were not folded against his back, but stretched out wide and it was quickly taken into account that he had no energy to try and fold them. they'd just have to remain that way. as his senses started coming back to him, mitsutada could feel something light over his eyes. it was cool against the rest of his skin and when he finally did manage to open his eyes, he was met with nothing but darkness. this predicament was starting to get nerve-wracking. just where was he and why was he...brows furrowing, the next thing he noticed was that he was absolutely not wearing clothes. and, quickly after that, his skin felt like it was on fire. with his body waking up, his nerves did the same, thrumming just underneath his skin and causing him to tense. drawing his legs together, he grumbled around whatever was in his mouth, tugging futilely on his restraints. this was definitely not funny anymore and it was troubling. lacking most of his strength, and being unable to see or really to control his hands, he couldn't do anything to help him get out of this situation.
whatever that warm feeling was, it was starting to get worse, and mitsutada found that he couldn't stop himself from writhing to try and alleviate some foreign pressure building somewhere deep in his abdomen. that buzzing he'd felt under his skin suddenly became very tangible, buried deep inside him, rattling against places he'd absolutely never touched before--an angel was clean, pure, they still had their grace; unsullied. it was a low whir that almost echoed in the strangely quiet room and it was inside him, pressed up against something that shocked him absolutely to his core. it caused his back to arch, his eyes to close tight behind the blindfold, and a long wrung-out whine pushed past the gag in his mouth. he didn't like it, whatever this was, as it made him absolutely ache to touch himself, which was something he very rarely did back home. it made his body tremble and his skin flush and it wasn't a terrible feeling, but it still felt altogether wrong and dirty. not to mention, he just couldn't move. he was fully restrained and it was suffocating.
OOKURIKARA + i left it open as to whether this is like, round 2 for this 'torture' and he's just not remembered round 1 yet, or if its the first time. here's some incentive to write the boy.