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You are Thyrsus, and you are currently under the possession of the female human with two Crests instead of that male with strange head-keratine who took you out of the cellar.
You have no complaints about her capability to wield you, however...
SMACK!
"C-Claude...!"
"Naughty girl, you're getting even wetter from being punished, aren't you?"
...she and the male Riegan Crest wielder she mates with keep engaging in these strange rituals while you're in the room.
Currently, he is bringing his phalanges down against her glutes as she makes noises reminiscent of a panicking prey animal. This appears to be causing arousal in the male, as the crotch of his lower fiber-covering is tenting from the engorged penis underneath. Oftentimes, he puts various solid objects in her vaginal canal, such as his fingers, or a piece of wood carved to look vaguely like a reproductive organ, before inserting his own.
Once, he commanded her to use you for that purpose, and she obeyed.
You truly don't understand humans.
"Stop teasing me and put it in already...!"
"Hm, but that would be no fun-- and it seems like the spanking wasn't nearly enough to make you nice and behaved..."
The male reaches for you with an expression that has been known to cause increased aggression and blood pressure in biological organisms who see it. You do not have a circulatory system, but you still feel your non-existent blood pressure go up.
He's not going to--
"...maybe this will teach you how to stay still!"
--sweet fucking Mother Sothis, he is tying her wrists and ankles to you. If you weren't already made of dead dragon bones, you would have killed yourself right there.
He mounts her from behind as she makes more dying prey noises.
"Be a nice little doe while you get a litter fucked into you, okay?"
The mating commences, and they keep using terminology for species other than humans to describe how he is going to impregnate her, which never actually happens because she always takes the hormone cycle-modifying herbal pills afterwards.
Nonetheless, this seems to aid the process of achieving orgasms, as they soon sigh and shiver.
"Mmh...there's...so much inside..."
Semen drips onto you from above, and there isn't a single damn thing you can do about it.
"You want more?" he asks, in a low pitch with a lot of breathe mixed into it, which the female appears to enjoy listening to, for some godsdamned reason.
Fuck, no, stop it, you nasty-ass bipedal freaks, you want to yell.
"P-please," your wielder moans.
As the Riegan male chuckles and flips her onto her back before grabbing you to use as a handlebar, you think about how Failnaught probably doesn't have to go through this shit.
You really, really can't wait for this war to be over so that you'll go back to being safely locked away in the Gloucester cellar or whatever.
---
Your are Failnaught, and each one of your spikes are more familiar with your owner's anal cavity than they ever should be.
You fucking hate it here.