a/n - i have been sitting on this half-finished for like a year and a half, and only just now finished it. caleb has a bit more agency than the prompt suggests, but i hope you still like it op!
---
The halls of the tower are labyrinthine, but Caleb’s memory helps him chart his way through. In his hands is a gem-the second he’s found-that by all accounts is a key part to the system keeping the enchantment on the tower in place.
If his reading of the sigils is correct, then the place it must be inserted was two floors up, which he had passed nine hours back, right before an encounter with the construct.
He’s more careful this time, to move slowly and cautiously, to keep his ears perked for any sign of the construct’s approach. He steps carefully around the signs of pitfall traps, in the subtle distinction they have from the other flagstones.
The last time he’d fallen into one of those, it had taken him an hour and a half to climb out. The creature that had sat at the bottom, a soft ooze with probing tentacles, had been rather intent on delaying him as long as possible, wrapping and exploring and stimulating sensitive areas, but at least it had broken his fall. He wasn’t sure if all of the other traps held similar creatures, or something else, and he didn’t have any intention to find out.
He pauses, at the edge of the stairwell, listening to the echoing sound of footsteps against the stone hallways. The construct was back.
A quick glance, and he could see the place where the gem needed to be inserted. If the construct caught him - when the construct caught him - it would take the gem, and he would have to retrieve it all over again. If he waited, it may leave - or it may catch him, hiding in the stairwell.
It didn’t take more than a few seconds to choose the alternative - and to run as fast as he could, towards the set of sigils on the other end of the hallway.
The footsteps echoing got faster, and closer, but he darted forward anyways, gem in hand. The floor seemed to shake, as the heavy thing moved forward, but while he stumbled, he didn’t stop. Thirty feet became twenty feet became ten, and even as the shadow loomed over him, he held his arm out to push the gem into place.
Click.
A clawed arm clamped around his neck, just as the gem locked and the sigils around it lit up. Two down, and if he was close to understanding this, only one more to go. He didn’t bother struggling in the construct’s firm grasp. Without his magic, he didn’t have a chance at escaping it, needed to wait until it let him go.
The construct brought him toward its chest, to the human sized hollow cage built in. The center of it was a built in metallic dildo, and it was careful in setting Caleb down, making sure he was pinned by it before releasing the claw clamped down around his throat.
Between the lubrication and how open he was from previous encounters in the tower, it wasn’t uncomfortable, as it slid deeper into him. There was a pistoning motion, slight but regular, and the metal vibrated as the construct stomped its way through the halls.
The angle wasn’t quite right, didn’t hit his prostate quite as it would with something taking the effort, but by the time the construct had brought him back to those damned cells, he was feeling full and deeply used, legs not strong enough to stand for more than a second once the claw that had pulled him up released him to the floor.
“You look delectable, like this,” the figure standing to one side. “Used and ready for the taking.”
Caleb looks up at Essek, but doesn’t bother trying to respond. The collar around his neck is more than sufficient at keeping him silent, and even with everything, he’s not nearly out enough to forget that. Essek kneels down closer, cupping Caleb’s cheek with his hand, pulling him in for a torturously gentle kiss.
“Sadly, I’m still far too busy,” he continues, standing back up. “Really, now, you should be just a good little pet and wait for me to finish before I come and fuck you myself.”
Caleb smirks, at that, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, of course, you’re going to try and escape. You’re very clever,” Essek tells him, waving a hand as the magic pushes Caleb into the open cell. “But I think you’ll find I - and my tower - am smarter. At least you should get to enjoy it, in the meantime.”
He teleports away, leaving Caleb alone in the cell once more.
It takes him several moments, sitting against the cold stone, to center himself back on his task. More than the pitfalls full of tentacle monsters or the groping hands of invisible servants or the mechanical fucking of constructs, Essek’s presence alone is - distracting.
The cells are annoying to deal with, requiring careful patience in the removal of the locks. If it weren’t for the collar, all it would take is a single cast of knock, but instead he is stuck carefully working them open with scavenged lock picks. Six minutes, 24 seconds, and he’s able to push the door ajar.
All signs pointed to the last of the keystone gems being in the gardens. He had seen a layout of the hedge maze from higher, in the tower, but he still hadn’t made his way outside, which meant whatever traps lay out there would be far harder to avoid.
Careful to be sure that the construct had fully left, Caleb made his way towards the nearest stairs, heading down. He stayed away from the suits of armor, dancing around trapped floors, kept a careful ear out for anything approaching. Feeling confident that he may have finally gotten used to the puzzle box that was the tower, he pushed open the door, and stepped out into the gardens.
It was night. Not dark, but looking up now, the spelled sky was full of stars, and there was no harsh light coming down. Not surprising, really, that Essek made the tower stagnant at dusk, but a part of him had still been expecting day.
The map of the hedge maze is clear in his mind. He can picture the path to where the third gem was being kept quite plainly, from the aerial vantage - now all he needs to do is get there.
He follows the series of lefts and rights through the maze, careful not to get too close to the hedges. Aside from the occasional bench and the few things he can see peering out from over the hedge tops, there’s only really the plants themselves, so he has to assume that’s what’s enchanted. Grasping vines to hold him in place, he imagines. At least none of them look thorny.
The hedges fall away for one of the few open areas. He had done his best to chart a course that avoided them, certainly didn’t want to cross any of the gazebos, even if he wasn’t certain what traps they might hold, but the beds of flowers, arranged in artistic patterns, didn’t have any obvious threat to them, not as long as he didn’t get too close or touch.
He walks through the area slowly, careful of where the path shifted into flagstones of any that might act as a button for some trap. The air smelled sweet, like honey, and-
There was the trap, scented in the air. He tries to raise a hand to block his mouth and nose, but already he could feel the impacts settling in as he stumbles forward, pushing himself into some attempt to run, to make it out the other side before he falls completely to the flowers. It wasn’t a full paralytic, or sending him to sleep, although control over his body was definitely fading. An aphrodisiac, of course, making it - difficult to think.
It’s almost to the entrance when his legs give out, hand outstretched and grasping at the hedge vines to pull him forward, failing. Thinking about anything other than want is hard, the trembling filling his body, even as he presses his head against the ground.
And then there’s movement, brushing against his arm, and the way his head is still swimming with the scent of honey, it feels electric. It takes him far too long to realize what the touch is, exactly, as the vines wrap along his arms, moving further, closer, tighter.
They start to wrap around his chest, snaking him, embracing him. They’re smoother than he expected, almost soft, and there’s a slight warmth to them, or maybe that’s just him. Tendrils wrap around his nipples, and he actually moans at the contact, skin so sensitive to the touch.
He’s moved closer to the edge, offering no real resistance. More vines creep forward, wrapping themselves comfortably around his legs, pulling him to lean up against the soft leaves of the hedge proper. Their movements are slow, gradual, in a way that leaves him writhing for the contact by the time they’ve finally snaked their way up to circle around his thighs, desperate for more contact.
When the first brush of a tendril against his cock comes, he feels his head fall back against the hedge, sensation overwhelming him, as the tendrils grow less fleeting, the touch more firm, wrapped around him.
And then they push inside him, smooth and slick even with the size. He cries out, but, of course, no sound comes. The vines keep a constant pace, untiring, working him through fully.
It’s too much for him to keep focus on anything but the feeling, the vines fucking him wider, the way his skin reacts to the pressure against it, all of his senses over stimulated.
The effects of the flowers are slow to fade, not helped by the hedge’s ministrations, but they do fade, out of range of the flowers. Caleb pulls himself back into control with all the effort he can muster to not just let it all continue. He’s been pulled deeper into the hedge than he’d thought.
He tries at first to just slip his wrists free of them, and when that proves to be less than effective, all his strength and weight against the vines in an attempt to snap and break them. If he could have ever been strong enough to break them, he doesn’t have the leverage, not, at least, with how the vines are fucking into him. Finally he turns to the methodical, scraping and clawing and twisting, every effort to weaken the bonds into snapping.
It goes faster, the further he gets, gaining more leverage and causing the vines to shrink away the more he breaks, until finally he is able to pull himself free of their grip, falling back into the path. After that, tearing off what remains wrapped around his legs is easy.
He makes his way quickly, down the winding path of the gardens, following his memory to the fountain and the gem.
Fill: labyrinth (Caleb/Essek, roleplay, predicament bondage) 1/2
---
The halls of the tower are labyrinthine, but Caleb’s memory helps him chart his way through. In his hands is a gem-the second he’s found-that by all accounts is a key part to the system keeping the enchantment on the tower in place.
If his reading of the sigils is correct, then the place it must be inserted was two floors up, which he had passed nine hours back, right before an encounter with the construct.
He’s more careful this time, to move slowly and cautiously, to keep his ears perked for any sign of the construct’s approach. He steps carefully around the signs of pitfall traps, in the subtle distinction they have from the other flagstones.
The last time he’d fallen into one of those, it had taken him an hour and a half to climb out. The creature that had sat at the bottom, a soft ooze with probing tentacles, had been rather intent on delaying him as long as possible, wrapping and exploring and stimulating sensitive areas, but at least it had broken his fall. He wasn’t sure if all of the other traps held similar creatures, or something else, and he didn’t have any intention to find out.
He pauses, at the edge of the stairwell, listening to the echoing sound of footsteps against the stone hallways. The construct was back.
A quick glance, and he could see the place where the gem needed to be inserted. If the construct caught him - when the construct caught him - it would take the gem, and he would have to retrieve it all over again. If he waited, it may leave - or it may catch him, hiding in the stairwell.
It didn’t take more than a few seconds to choose the alternative - and to run as fast as he could, towards the set of sigils on the other end of the hallway.
The footsteps echoing got faster, and closer, but he darted forward anyways, gem in hand. The floor seemed to shake, as the heavy thing moved forward, but while he stumbled, he didn’t stop. Thirty feet became twenty feet became ten, and even as the shadow loomed over him, he held his arm out to push the gem into place.
Click.
A clawed arm clamped around his neck, just as the gem locked and the sigils around it lit up. Two down, and if he was close to understanding this, only one more to go. He didn’t bother struggling in the construct’s firm grasp. Without his magic, he didn’t have a chance at escaping it, needed to wait until it let him go.
The construct brought him toward its chest, to the human sized hollow cage built in. The center of it was a built in metallic dildo, and it was careful in setting Caleb down, making sure he was pinned by it before releasing the claw clamped down around his throat.
Between the lubrication and how open he was from previous encounters in the tower, it wasn’t uncomfortable, as it slid deeper into him. There was a pistoning motion, slight but regular, and the metal vibrated as the construct stomped its way through the halls.
The angle wasn’t quite right, didn’t hit his prostate quite as it would with something taking the effort, but by the time the construct had brought him back to those damned cells, he was feeling full and deeply used, legs not strong enough to stand for more than a second once the claw that had pulled him up released him to the floor.
“You look delectable, like this,” the figure standing to one side. “Used and ready for the taking.”
Caleb looks up at Essek, but doesn’t bother trying to respond. The collar around his neck is more than sufficient at keeping him silent, and even with everything, he’s not nearly out enough to forget that. Essek kneels down closer, cupping Caleb’s cheek with his hand, pulling him in for a torturously gentle kiss.
“Sadly, I’m still far too busy,” he continues, standing back up. “Really, now, you should be just a good little pet and wait for me to finish before I come and fuck you myself.”
Caleb smirks, at that, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, of course, you’re going to try and escape. You’re very clever,” Essek tells him, waving a hand as the magic pushes Caleb into the open cell. “But I think you’ll find I - and my tower - am smarter. At least you should get to enjoy it, in the meantime.”
He teleports away, leaving Caleb alone in the cell once more.
It takes him several moments, sitting against the cold stone, to center himself back on his task. More than the pitfalls full of tentacle monsters or the groping hands of invisible servants or the mechanical fucking of constructs, Essek’s presence alone is - distracting.
The cells are annoying to deal with, requiring careful patience in the removal of the locks. If it weren’t for the collar, all it would take is a single cast of knock, but instead he is stuck carefully working them open with scavenged lock picks. Six minutes, 24 seconds, and he’s able to push the door ajar.
All signs pointed to the last of the keystone gems being in the gardens. He had seen a layout of the hedge maze from higher, in the tower, but he still hadn’t made his way outside, which meant whatever traps lay out there would be far harder to avoid.
Careful to be sure that the construct had fully left, Caleb made his way towards the nearest stairs, heading down. He stayed away from the suits of armor, dancing around trapped floors, kept a careful ear out for anything approaching. Feeling confident that he may have finally gotten used to the puzzle box that was the tower, he pushed open the door, and stepped out into the gardens.
It was night. Not dark, but looking up now, the spelled sky was full of stars, and there was no harsh light coming down. Not surprising, really, that Essek made the tower stagnant at dusk, but a part of him had still been expecting day.
The map of the hedge maze is clear in his mind. He can picture the path to where the third gem was being kept quite plainly, from the aerial vantage - now all he needs to do is get there.
He follows the series of lefts and rights through the maze, careful not to get too close to the hedges. Aside from the occasional bench and the few things he can see peering out from over the hedge tops, there’s only really the plants themselves, so he has to assume that’s what’s enchanted. Grasping vines to hold him in place, he imagines. At least none of them look thorny.
The hedges fall away for one of the few open areas. He had done his best to chart a course that avoided them, certainly didn’t want to cross any of the gazebos, even if he wasn’t certain what traps they might hold, but the beds of flowers, arranged in artistic patterns, didn’t have any obvious threat to them, not as long as he didn’t get too close or touch.
He walks through the area slowly, careful of where the path shifted into flagstones of any that might act as a button for some trap. The air smelled sweet, like honey, and-
There was the trap, scented in the air. He tries to raise a hand to block his mouth and nose, but already he could feel the impacts settling in as he stumbles forward, pushing himself into some attempt to run, to make it out the other side before he falls completely to the flowers. It wasn’t a full paralytic, or sending him to sleep, although control over his body was definitely fading. An aphrodisiac, of course, making it - difficult to think.
It’s almost to the entrance when his legs give out, hand outstretched and grasping at the hedge vines to pull him forward, failing. Thinking about anything other than want is hard, the trembling filling his body, even as he presses his head against the ground.
And then there’s movement, brushing against his arm, and the way his head is still swimming with the scent of honey, it feels electric. It takes him far too long to realize what the touch is, exactly, as the vines wrap along his arms, moving further, closer, tighter.
They start to wrap around his chest, snaking him, embracing him. They’re smoother than he expected, almost soft, and there’s a slight warmth to them, or maybe that’s just him. Tendrils wrap around his nipples, and he actually moans at the contact, skin so sensitive to the touch.
He’s moved closer to the edge, offering no real resistance. More vines creep forward, wrapping themselves comfortably around his legs, pulling him to lean up against the soft leaves of the hedge proper. Their movements are slow, gradual, in a way that leaves him writhing for the contact by the time they’ve finally snaked their way up to circle around his thighs, desperate for more contact.
When the first brush of a tendril against his cock comes, he feels his head fall back against the hedge, sensation overwhelming him, as the tendrils grow less fleeting, the touch more firm, wrapped around him.
And then they push inside him, smooth and slick even with the size. He cries out, but, of course, no sound comes. The vines keep a constant pace, untiring, working him through fully.
It’s too much for him to keep focus on anything but the feeling, the vines fucking him wider, the way his skin reacts to the pressure against it, all of his senses over stimulated.
The effects of the flowers are slow to fade, not helped by the hedge’s ministrations, but they do fade, out of range of the flowers. Caleb pulls himself back into control with all the effort he can muster to not just let it all continue. He’s been pulled deeper into the hedge than he’d thought.
He tries at first to just slip his wrists free of them, and when that proves to be less than effective, all his strength and weight against the vines in an attempt to snap and break them. If he could have ever been strong enough to break them, he doesn’t have the leverage, not, at least, with how the vines are fucking into him. Finally he turns to the methodical, scraping and clawing and twisting, every effort to weaken the bonds into snapping.
It goes faster, the further he gets, gaining more leverage and causing the vines to shrink away the more he breaks, until finally he is able to pull himself free of their grip, falling back into the path. After that, tearing off what remains wrapped around his legs is easy.
He makes his way quickly, down the winding path of the gardens, following his memory to the fountain and the gem.