Spinner of Shadow 🔞

@spinnerofshadow.bsky.social

668 Followers 541 Following

Sit by my campfire! This is an NSFW 18+ account to share my latest kinky fetish stories, ranging from sweet to depraved. Find all my sites at https://spinnerofshadow.carrd.co! I also do commissions. he/him

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Cover for Star-Struck Part 3, with a naked Cynthia and Lora facing away from each other, Cynthia's arms crossed in front of her and Lora's over her head. Cynthia's ship flies between them, its exhaust creating a rift that separates them.
“We think that the real treasure is the friends you make along the way,” Jared teased as the four competitors stripped out of their clothing under the watchful eyes of the grinning judges. “And what better way to thank your friends than to give them handicaps for a race.” He gestured, and a beach towel was pulled away from a table on the far side of the pool, revealing a collection of bondage gear. “Starting with Deanna, each of our competitors will be choosing one penalty from this table, and one competitor to attach it to.” “Oh, hell.” Raine’s murmur was soft enough that Kitty didn’t think the cameras had picked it up. She plastered on a smile, looking over the eight people she’d helped manipulate out. Kitty wasn’t feeling much better. She’d gotten so focused on blocking Raine that she’d made a few enemies. Would Mike want to get back at her? Victor? Anita? She had a sinking feeling that this race might be stacked against her faster than she’d thought.
“Take off your dress and step under the light,” Isaiah commanded. “Yes, sir,” Usha said. After two years of nearly monthly punishments, she should be used to the humiliation, but a lifetime of Doctrinal training was impossible to shake loose. She reached up, unbuttoning the top of her dress, and pulled it over her head. Underneath, she was entirely naked, every inch of her skin shaved smooth. She trembled as Isaiah’s gaze as she set the dress down on the floor, feeling his eyes roving over her round breasts, the curve of her hips, the folds of her crotch. Every time, it was like being devoured by a hungry serpent, the warmth of shame and a hidden trace of unwelcome lust spreading across her cheeks as she stepped onto the black square in the middle of the room. The ceiling light above her flickering on, sending a rapid pattern of alternating UV and IR light onto Usha. As the lights flickered across her skin, the invisible tattoos that she had been inked with to mark her as a Luminite agent began to darken. Only Isaiah and Usha knew the exact combinations of light needed to activate the ink hidden in her skin; a precaution to prevent the Authority from simply shining lights on all of their civil servants.
Cover of Star-Struck Part 2, with Cynthia holding Lora by the neck and gazing lovingly down at her while, in the background, their ship zooms through an asteroid field.
A lady with short brown hair is dangling from a tree over a fence in front of a yard, held by a long green hose. She is wearing a red corset and panties and black gloves and pantyhose, and has a red ball gag on, and she's blushing. The hose is wrapped above and below her breasts, around her knees, and around her ankles. Art by Gubblenub ( https://www.deviantart.com/gubblenub )
The guests began to filter in, and Jacob emerged from the study to greet them. The ballroom was soon filled with twenty close acquaintances, their partners and assistants, enjoying the atmosphere and the festive displays. “A lovely party as always, Jacob. Did I spy the Virgin Halo on my way in?” Amelie circled over, swirling her champagne. “You must let me borrow it for my pet some time.” “Of course, Amelie.” Jacob smiled with real warmth. Amelie was one of the closest things he had to a friend, and one of the few he would trust with a piece of his collection - and vice versa. “It’s the least I could do after you loaned me your role masks again.” He gestured to the nearest waitress, as a less-couth guest grabbed her ass. She giggled coyly at him, expertly keeping her tray from falling, and whispered something flirtatious in response. The staff circling the room were dressed as Playboy bunnies and Chippendales wearing elegant black domino masks. Masked dancers in burlesque outfits performed in the corner, accompanied by a trio of masked musicians. The costumes were fabric, but the masks were special. When donned, they gave the wearer the skills and role of their current costume, and when removed they took all memories of the time spent masked with them. Hiring highly trained event staff wasn’t a problem for Jacob, but staff who were sufficiently attractive for his displays were harder to find, and he didn’t want to deal with all of the threats and NDAs and disappearing troublemakers afterwards. This way, he could simply hire some attractive models and call it a day. Amelie sized up the nearest Chippendale. “I might just take one of them home with me,” she said. “Perhaps I could put the Halo on him…” “With my blessings,” Jacob said. “But release him after the weekend. I have a relationship with the agency.” “Oh, he won’t complain,” Amelie said with a wicked grin. “Not once I’m through with him.”
Continuing his tour, Jacob paused at the Christmas tree in the front hall, decorated with shining lights and piled high with presents. He smiled as he looked over the largest of the presents. “I see that the special gift arrived safely,” he said. “Of course, Mr. Ashworthy,” Mr. Grinn said. “We retrieved her earlier this morning.” Lying under the tree was a small, slender woman, covered head to toe in bright red ribbons. She was wrapped so tight that it was clear the woman was naked, the ribbons pressed so tightly around her breasts that they were ballooned outward before being wrapped further, her arms pinning in a vicious reverse prayer behind her back and her legs in a brutal frogtie. Even her head was completely covered, no hint of skin or hair showing, and only a faint depression where her mouth was desperately trying to pull in air. The tight ribbons kept her from wriggling, but her body twitched faintly from her attempts to move. Jacob knew that there was even more going on. The Stocking Stuffer was a particularly vicious living ribbon, an artifact that he had acquired decades ago and still loved to watch. It could regulate its victim’s air, shifting its layers just enough to keep them struggling for breath, tying tightly around their waist like a corset, and constantly adjusting pressure to create agonizing squeezing sensations over the breasts, stomach, and head of its prey. Curled ribbons were even running up into the woman’s ass and crotch, tickling her from the inside as she struggled to breathe to add a haze of arousal to her nightmare. The woman was a habitual embezzler that Jacob had hired for this precise purpose. The ribbons had been left in her room, creeping out to ambush her as she emerged from the shower and leaving her in a panic of uncertainty and torment overnight. Now she was properly placed under the tree, ready to be given away as a gift. “Beautiful as always,” he breathed with a smile, watching the ribbons at work.