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danses-with-dogmeat · 7 months

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Day 5 -- Eulogy Jones

The (nsfw) details for Kinktober, Day 5 are just below the cut!

Minors, please don’t interact.

Collaring with Eulogy Jones x Clover

OKAY, so big disclaimer on this one, um... Yeah, Eulogy is a fucking awful person and I support literally nothing that he does or says in this game and in this writing here. Alright, now that that's established, this was actually super interesting to write, given that it's between him and Clover, rather than him and the reader/Lone/protagonist. It was also fun to write a little bit from both their perspectives and sort of explore the... pretty darn screwed up relationship they hint to having in-game.

But yeah, absolutely check out the TWs, cuz y'know... Eulogy is canonically a slaveowner/slaver and is awful and that's just his whole ass character. 🤷‍♀️

SPOILERS for the writing: there is a good-ish ending though, so it's not all awful, I promise.

Here is the link to the Kinktober 2023 Event List so you can stay up-to-date, or re-visit these works as you please.

Included and TWs: Collaring, very dubious consent (Clover wants it, but she's also a slave, so...), slavery, sexual slavery, manipulation, toxic relationships, Eulogy being the worst, oral sex/blow jobs, deepthroating/face fuck, a wee bit of two-sided violence/a physical struggle.

Words: 4.1k

“Aw, don’t pout like that, babygirl, come on.”

Eulogy could feel the way Clover’s breaths shook beneath the hand he had resting on her shoulder.

“Let’s make this last night memorable, hm? Before you get to go off and belong to some lucky new guy.”

His fingers dragged down one strap of her sheer little dress, the one they’d shown her off in when they introduced her to her potential buyer, per the man’s request. The stranger seemed nice enough– well, rich enough, and he’d been polite through the process, which was more than Eulogy could say for the many slave buyers he’s come across in his time at Paradise Falls.

Clover could stand to devote herself to the new owner, of that he was certain, she would just need a bit of… convincing. Maybe a gentle reminder, of sorts.

“Don’t need someone new!” She whipped around to face him, and Eulogy’s hand slipped from her skin. “Why're you giving me up, huh? Don’t you… don’t you like me?”

Eulogy tutted at her sympathetically, bringing his hand back up to caress her wet cheek.

“Of course, Clove, what’s not to love about you?”

Already, she perked up at that, especially when he followed his words with that rare smile he had her convinced he'd reserved specifically for her.

“Nah, baby, it’s just… He’ll be good for ya. Wild and free girl like yourself shouldn’t be cooped up here. He can give you adventure. He can be everything you need, that, I’m sure of. So long as you’re good to him too." Eulogy's hand gave her face a little attention-getting pat. "You will be good to your new owner, won’t you?”

Her lower lips still looked pouty, her eyes still a bit distant, like she wasn’t letting his words soak in.

“Won’t you?” Eulogy prompted her, as his hand tightened its grip, a bit more painfully this time.

“I guess," Clover relented, "B-but I don’t see, master, sir, why you won’t–”

“Shhh.” Both his hands reached out to pull her in close, forcing her head beneath his chin, his arms around her shoulders, while one hand stroked over her hair.

“You remember your rule, Clover?” Eulogy whispered now. Not a soft, affectionate thing, not a way to soothe her or soften the blow of his rejection of her. It was cold, like the metal around her neck, like the air when the sun went down, like the frigid floor tiles she would rest upon on a night where she’d made a mistake.

She only sniffled in his grasp, surely trying to quickly pull her emotions in, to steady herself, before Eulogy would have to do it for her.

“When I ask you a question, babygirl, you…”

If his voice was cold a moment ago, now it was dangerous. Pointed and glinting like a poised knife about to dig deep into someone’s skin.

“I know, sir, I know. I answer.”

His embrace grew constricting then, squeezing her shoulders like cruel iron clamps, until Clover’s arms might’ve popped out of their own sockets.

“And I do! I remember the rule. I know I should say ‘yes,’ that I should be 'good for him.' I should listen to you. Always, I know… It’s just hard.”

Eulogy’s pressure on her let up for a moment, as her arms wrapped about him with a similar intensity, keeping his body anchored to hers-- and with more affection than he could ever muster, she was sure.

“Just hard thinkin’ that I won’t be with you anymore.”

“Mm, I know. You’ve grown real attached to me, and baby… it’s been fun, don’t think I’m giving you away for free now. You’re my prize girl, after all.”

“R-really?”

Another sniffle left her, and Eulogy's hand gave a firm, definitive stroke over the top of her head, like he was rewarding a beast of burden rather than comforting a person he might care for.

“Oh yeah, baby. No one can compare.”

“I knew it.” She whispered out, and felt Eulogy chuckle against her. It was a good sound, one she would try and hold onto, to commit to memory so she’d always have it, even when she was with her new… owner.

Who could own me but Eulogy, though? No one’s come close to being able to handle me like he has. None have appreciated me the way he has.

She felt close to tearing up again, as Eulogy ran his hands over her back in long, soothing circles, sensual in nature, but no less comforting in her eyes, in her blindly loyal heart.

He coulda had anyone here. Any slave he wanted, just say the word, and they’re his. He chose me to be around him all the time, though.

That's gotta be special, right?

“And what do you say, huh?" His voice was just that tinge deeper now, hinting to what she already knew he was thinking, from the moment he sat down beside her on the bed. "What about one last night between us.”

It wasn’t a question. It never was.

With her though, with his prize girl, Eulogy didn’t have to ask in order for her to do anything he pleased.

Before Clover could voice a word, his stroking hands were tugging the straps of her dress down, until the loose fabric fell from her shoulders and chest completely and into a silken pile of fabric in her lap.

“One last night.” Clover said quietly, like a breath. Like one she savored as though flavored with Nuka Cherry and the sweetest liqueur.

“Atta girl.”

With that, Eulogy adhered to their usual tradition, he released her from his grasp, opting to lay back on the giant, plush mattress with his head back on a soft pillow, propped up to watch Clover as she put her passion into motion.

Starting off with a strip tease of sorts, she stood at the foot of the bed, her hands loosely gripping the folded fabric of her dress, letting it drape over hips, but go no lower. She shimmied her chest a bit for him, in a way that noticeably sent warmth flowing straight to the base of Eulogy’s cock. Her hips swayed as if to a slow, undulating rhythm as she lidded her eyes at him, smiling with those vibrant lips, fixing him with that dark, sultry gaze.

Like practiced clockwork, he felt himself grow hard for her almost instantaneously.

“Permission?” Clover asked, batting those long eyelashes and sweetening her voice until it sounded like a soothing music note.

“How could I deny you?” Eulogy threw another grin at her, one he knew would melt her heart.

He would miss playing her this way, like playing chess with a wild dog. His strategy versus her usual… unpredictability, and yet… somehow, he always seemed to win out. Even wild dogs, if shown a structured life, a meaningful life with an owner that was firm, that inspired undying loyalty and respect, that rewarded them and disciplined them in equal parts, with the proper severity that the situations called for, then they could become docile. Trainable, and predictable enough that he could even-- on special occasions-- trust them.

That was his Clover. The wildcard no one wanted to be dealt, and he took her into his hand and made a full fucking house. Won the lot with her.

That was why he was running the damn place.

A smug look stayed etched in his expression as Clover released the dress from her hands, and let it billow to the floor. Once bare, and with his permission granted, she climbed up onto the mattress and right between his partially-spread legs.

Her dark gaze stayed on him, as Clover ran her hands over his silk button-up, undoing the fastenings with well-practiced fingers as he looked on, committing to memory the way her body moved with her actions, savoring her lithe form, her toned arms and stomach, her small, but oh-so-sweet little breasts.

He wasn’t lying when he said he’d miss her. Clover’s body would be in his mind and dreams for years to come, he was sure. Her personality though… That would stay firmly in his nightmares.

It really was cruel, to put such an unruly mind, an unstable and dangerous personality in a physical form this desirable. Though, in a way, he supposed that was the girl’s saving grace. It’s what interested him in the first place, the gorgeous little spitfire that he wanted to make his, and now… Now that’s how her new owner came about.

A man with too much money, taking one look at this fine piece of ass in a near-nude dress that was hardly short enough to cover the pretty curls between her legs, and thinking… 'I want her to be mine.' Maybe it would be the death of him, what with Clover’s clear affinity for mayhem, and for Eulogy and not this stranger, but who knows? With time, she could obsess over someone new, she could grow to love her new owner the way she did him, or, it would end differently…

No matter how it went though, it’s not really his problem anymore, is it?

That shit was a good feeling.

Almost as good too, was the way her hands were running over his bare chest, pushing the opened shirt from his shoulders and tossing it off the bed before her lips competed for most covered ground. She kissed over his pecs, letting her warm, wet lips draw lines of fire across his sensitive nipples, down the center of his chest until she reached his naval, and then to the hem of his dress pants.

Eulogy sat pretty as she worked, gleefully absorbing her worship of him, the way her mouth sang praises to his body through its touch, the way her hands grazed over that quickly-forming bulge in his pants before eagerly working to undo them.

“Definitely gonna miss you, Clove.” Eulogy groaned as she released the pressure from his aching erection, pulling down his dress pants and underwear all at once with her long, fervent fingers.

She paused though, at the sound of his words, her eyes fixing blankly to his stomach while her hands hovered over the fabric of his pants, where they remained hardly halfway down his thighs.

“Don’t stop now, baby. We’re just getting to the good part.” Eulogy said quickly.

He knew that look, that dissociative stare, that thin frown that meant she was about to do something… well, unpredictable. It was that look that ruled her when jealousy took its firm hold, that look just before she’d kill the one in front of her, that look before she’d throw all caution to the wind and destroy anything in her vicinity.

He’d only managed to talk her down from that look a few times, and given their closeness just now… Yeah, he hoped this would be one of those times.

“Won’t you love on me, Clove? For tonight, it's just us, okay? Just you and me.” His hand brushed her hair away, sweeping the strands from where they hung over her face, just before lightly grasping the swell of one cheek, cradling her face in his hold.

“We can pretend it’ll always be this way…”

With that, his hand tightened its hold, and Eulogy pulled her up to face him. Her fogged-over eyes met his, finally, and Eulogy almost sighed as familiarly and fondness shone through her gaze.

“We can.” Clover echoed, her voice quiet, soft, and then she took the bait and leaned in the last little bit.

Eulogy poured every ounce of feeling that he could into her, kissing her lips like he was trying to devour them whole, pulling her into that reality where she could stay with him forever, where they could do this every night, where nothing existed but them.

No new owner, no other slaves for him to give his attention to, no distractions from his work, no jealousy from Clover, no reason for it.

It was a nice thought for him, sure, but to keep a leash on Clover… It was a necessary picture to paint.

Once she began to reciprocate with a familiar kind of fervor, that’s when Eulogy pulled away.

Keep her wanting. Thinking how much she wants me, and those violent, accusatory musings of hers perhaps can be safely kept at bay.

“What do you say, my sweet clover flower? Will you love me, like the day you pledged yourself to me?”

Her eyes glistened as she looked to him, a distinct certainty to her action as she nodded, and Eulogy very nearly let his smugness show through.

If there’s one thing I know about my Clover, it’s that I’m her weakness.

His gaze remained on her as she slunk down the mattress, her movements smooth and lithe after so much practice, and settled herself between his legs. She drew them open wider, lovingly running her slightly calloused, manicured hands over the insides of his thighs until he complied. Doing just as she knew Eulogy liked, Clover kept her hands to her sides and her gaze firmly locked to his as she took the head of his straining cock into her warm, inviting mouth.

Eulogy’s half-smile stayed plastered to his face, even as his dark brows creased together in his pleasure, as Clover began the sensual movements of her expert lips and tongue over his erection. His slave looked so divine with her plush lips wrapped around him, her cheeks hollowed, eyes hazy with her own burning need for him, for his approval and affection.

It only made her more desirable.

Crazy? Yes, but still, to Eulogy, no one could ever match Clover’s utter devotion to him, her worship of him like he was her creator because really, after so many years of belonging to him, of learning from his guidance, she really was his own, the product of his practices, his training, his wants, his life.

Eulogy would miss her, maybe that bit was true, but it was her rash devotion to him, her ardent praise and complete focus on his pleasure, his attention over every other priority that exists in life– that, he knew he’d never find again.

Alas, it made his job too difficult to devote himself only to one slave. Hell, if he wanted to be chained to any man or woman, he’d want that shit to– You know what? No. He wouldn’t want that. It wasn’t the way Eulogy Jones was meant to live his lavish lifestyle.

Besides, who would train the finest slaves for the job, if not himself?

The delicate process deserved attention no other slaver was willing to give, it requires precision, unshakeable discipline and more patience than he’s seen in any of his slavers.

No, with Eulogy, there was a possibility they’d come out this nice. Sure, Clover’s background had helped a bit, and she still had her... quirks, but he did loads of work on her, and without him? She’d never be this glorious specimen of a girl.

Her devotion, he body, her mastery of the art of the tongue, of attraction, of pleasure incarnate... It wouldn't exist without him. She'd be nothing without him. Nothing but the nerves, the jealousy, the grimy, willful, half-starved girl she'd come to him as.

Now though, now Clover's well-practiced tongue stroked like an artist’s brush over the length of him, caressing his every vein, pressing masterfully into those sensitive points that she’d memorized in her thousand or so times she’d fallen to her knees before him. Her focus was on him completely, her will broken to obey his whim, no matter what it cost her.

She was a proper slave, and a part of him felt pride that another might know his mastery over her, that another could now appreciate the work he's put in, once she devoted herself to the new man.

Eulogy couldn’t hold back his groan, couldn’t keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his head as Clover bobbed up and down, forward and back, sucking and licking and drooling until his cock became her whole entire world.

His taste, that familiar mustiness that made her mouth water, his smell, of faint cologne and cigarette smoke– plus that distinct manliness that she’d once thought bitter and distasteful, that now she savored with every deep, vulgar swipe of her tongue; the sight of him though, the sounds he made in response to her loving efforts, Eulogy knew that’s what Clover craved most of all.

Her pleading eyes told him, as hungry for his expression as her lips were for his cock. The way she shuddered too, at his every breath, every groan or sigh. No matter the sounds he uttered, goosebumps always rose upon her skin just after they left his lips.

She was easy to read, easy to manipulate, easy to toy with and to punish when he pleased.

But easy is becoming… tiresome.

Eulogy knew this would be the change he needed, and Clover, well… It didn’t really matter what happened to her now. She was a completed task, a checked box that was sitting at the top of the page, just waiting for him to turn to a new one.

It was time.

One of Eulogy’s idle hands rose to the back of Clover’s head, grasping at the short strands of hair and tugging her downwards gruffly, until the head of his cock was stopped by the pressure of the tight collar cradling her neck. Clover grunted, her eyes watering as he jammed himself as far into her throat as could be managed, but she made no move at all to stop him. No, more than that, she encouraged his roughness with another swipe of her tongue, reaching close to the very base of his length as her throat struggled to force him down further, further than the steel around her neck would ever feasibly allow.

It made him hum with satisfaction, the way her face grew red with a lack of oxygen and an abundance of frustration, how she always tried so hard for him.

And looked damn fine doing it.

He felt near to exploding down her throat, with the way the walls of her esophagus squeezed him, the way tears now streamed down her cheeks; the hot, wet feeling of being far enough inside to halt her breathing.

The bliss was washing over him in waves, causing his hips to buck, his cock to swell further, his balls to suck up tighter to his body in preparation, and–

Then Clover stopped.

Oh, he could discipline the ever-loving hell out of her for pulling away from him as suddenly and desperately as she did.

“Master, please–” She choked out, her vocal chords scraping against each other like nails on sandpaper after the recent abuse to her throat.

“Better have a good fucking reason for stopping.” Eulogy growled in that cold-as-steel voice that made her insides churn with fear and self-loathing.

“I'm sorry, master, so sorry I pulled away, I didn't want to!" Her shining bottom lip quivered as her eyes flew to anywhere but him, shame written all across her expression as if with a dark-inked pen. "B-but, I wanted to ask a favor of you."

Now!? She’s doing this now… Fuck, maybe I won’t miss the bitch.

He didn’t bother giving her any more of a go-ahead than his impatient look. His cock twitched visibly with want, seeming to agree with his mind’s frustration.

“What if… just for now, just for our last wonderful night together, you… took the collar off?”

Instantly, Eulogy’s expression soured further, and Clover raced to try and remedy his obvious displeasure.

Her hands stroked soothingly over his thighs, her cute little lip pouted and her wet eyes shone with earnest desire.

“Please, master! J-just so I can take you how you deserve! That’s all I want, my love, my Eulogy, my world.” She was on the verge of sobbing now, and Eulogy felt his eyes beginning to roll with annoyance.

“Clove, babe, that’s not how I roll. How any of this rolls, you know this. I really have to remind you on your last day not to speak out of turn? Come on.” His head shook, and he felt the panic radiating off of her, felt the way her hands trembled where they clung to his skin.

“Please, master, I’m begging you, I want–” She sniffed as a tear fell down her face, “I want all of you, my love, my life, I want as much of you as I can take tonight, and I want it everywhere. To remember you-- how you feel in me, always. I need it, or I’ll– I might just–”

“Okay, fucking hell, alright. I’ll take the damn thing off, but Clover," A hand grasped tightly to that tender place between her neck and shoulder, "You try anything, and we’ll stop this night in its tracks.”

Clover perked up instantly as he gave way, nodding enthusiastically to every word he uttered.

“You listening, slave? Anything at all and I’ll tie you to that column over there and fuck every other slave in Paradise Falls with your eyes held open with pins, you hear me? You wanna see that?”

“No, no, master, love, I’d never disobey you. Not now, not tonight. I couldn’t.”

Eulogy hummed in approval. He actually believed her, strange as it was. Clover wouldn’t sour their last night together. Not when he was her everything, as she often put it.

With that, both his hands reached upwards, easily finding the little keypad hidden in the– seemingly immovable– metal creases of her deadly collar, and expertly, he entered in his code. He’d never used it before now, and knew, he'd never use it again.

It was only good once, and then it had to be changed. He designed them that way himself so that, if the codes were ever entered wrong-- perhaps by another slave who'd managed to see the number entered in-- the collars would do what they did best, and blow it’s wearer to bits... Or shock them to unconsciousness, depending on the value of the slave.

It was an ingenious system, and yet… He was risking its failure for– for what? For Clover to keep sucking his cock? For her to deepthroat him barely an inch further?

He could’ve maybe just loosened the damn thing, but…

Fuck, it was too late for even that.

As soon as the telltale click of the collar sounded in her ears, Clover was moving. Her haste was damn-near inhuman as she wrenched away from Eulogy's firm grasp, one hand automatically reaching downwards, clawing at the over-sensitive skin of his erect cock, whilst the other swiftly pinned him down into the mattress by his throat.

Not even a scream could leave him, as Eulogy’s windpipe was all but crushed beneath the forceful weight of the collar holding him down. His vision blurred, his body writhed, and immense, spine-numbing pain erupted from his most vulnerable place as Clover attacked with a ferocity that rivaled her recently uninhibited devotion.

“I couldn’t.” She growled, her voice like the shriek of a feral ghoul, “I couldn’t let you leave me, couldn’t be owned again, goddammit. Not by you? Not by anyone.”

Their bodies writhed on the mattress, its springs creaking and protesting below as they wrestled for dominance. Limbs were flying, fingernails clawing, his hands were reaching for anything he could grasp at– her throat, her eyes, her nipples, anything that could cause enough pain to let him win the upper hand, but Clover’s hate was greater. Her savage, desperate violence turned her inhuman, infused her expression with a deathclaw's natural animosity, as she snarled and hissed and cursed Eulogy to hell and back, until finally, her fingers managed to clasp the metal of the collar firmly around his neck.

And they both heard it click into place.

Eulogy froze then, knowing she’d just as soon blow them both to a hell worse than this one, at any more sign of struggle.

What the fuck have I done?

He hardly had time to think. Sweat was pouring from his body in rivers, his veins were bulging out of his skin, his breath heaving laboriously as she stayed straddled overtop him, a wild, reckless gleam to her eyes that screamed hatred that he never imagined could be directed at him.

“C-Clove, babe--”

“Shut your goddamn mouth, slave." She snarled the words from between her teeth like a savage beast, "Shut it and fucking listen to me. For once in your awful, horrendous, fucking despicable life, you’re going to listen to what someone else has to say, you hear me?”

Eulogy’s eyes screamed malice and disbelief, but as the collar’s foreboding beep told him the combination had changed, as he felt it automatically fit to the thickness of his neck, as he felt the cold, cruel, imprisoning discomfort of the heavy thing settle into his very being, he shut his mouth, and did as Clover said.

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