You're being obnoxious. This pandemic has you bored and restless, and you're really struggling with it today. You've meandered into my home office half a dozen times today.

You want one of two things when you get like this-- to play or be played with. I shoo you away with a stern look while on the phone. You grimace and back out quietly, but you linger in the doorway. Haunting the area with your heavy sighs.

I scribble on a notepad despite my call.

I have plans for you tonight, kitten. Plans you are going to love and hate. And I cannot wait.

It reads, "Go shower, blow dry your hair, and be ready on the bed in 30." I wad it up into a ball and toss it out of your reach. It sails through the door and I watch you hurry after it, curious.

You smooth it out and glance up at me giddy, before squealing with delight and running off to the bedroom to follow its directions.

I sigh and refocus on the call, happy to have gained an uninterrupted half hour; wheels turning for what's in store.

The call wraps up with time to spare. I check my email, respond to a few, then shut it all down in preparation of starting you up.

I pour myself a drink and head to see if you followed my note like the good girl you can be.

You didn't disappoint. You're sitting in the center of the bed, legs crossed, both the note and your hands in your lap. You beam up at me.

"Look at you," I say, walking up to the foot of the bed. I put my hand out for the paper. You hand it over, smiling wide. I crinkle it back into a paper ball with one hand, my drink in the other.

You won't be smiling soon.

"Scoot to the edge of the bed," I say, turning around and tossing the ball in a small waste bin. I hear you move across the bedding. I grab the cozy reading chair from the corner and drag it to the center of the room, so it's facing the bed and situate it about 5 feet away.

You look stunned. Shocked and confused, your pretty little mouth parted in confusion.

"You wanted my attention, now you've got it," I say, sitting down and taking a sip.

The sound you make is one of incredulity. A bewildered scoff of sorts.

"You have been terrible," I start, "Interrupting me almost hourly. You wanna play so badly? So play."

"What?," is all you manage.

"Play with yourself," I say. "Do a good job, and I might help you out."

Your expression changes. You look pissed, but determined. "Come on!," you protest and dramatically slam you fists on the bed.

I take another sip, sit back, and gesture my glass forward for you to begin.

You let out a defeated, growly whine and fall backwards.

"Show me how you make yourself cum all by yourself, precious," I say smugly, "Start now."

You make a defiant, pouty sound-- but you do indeed start. Your left hand drifts down to your pussy and begins-- it slowly dips between your lips. I see the wetness already there, no doubt you were excited waiting for me. No doubt this is not what you had in mind.

Your wet fingers find your clit and you let out a little sigh. Your right hand fondles your right then your left breast, occasionally pinching a nipple.

Soon you're getting into it; you grind into the mattress, squirming as you play with yourself. You move your right hand down to your labia and go to finger yourself.

"Uh uh," I tut and your hand pauses, "That hole is mine."

You let out an exasperated sigh, clearly annoyed and painfully frustrated. I smile, and your hand travels along your labia instead.

You moan and your left hand picks up its pace. Your right hand trails your slick fingers up your stomach and back to your perfect titties. You continue working your clit while your other hand roams.

It's only been 6 or 7 minutes, but you're getting close. You're working your clit fast, you want to cum. You want this part over with so you can be played with. You want your holes filled.

You prove me right-- your right hand caresses upwards to your lips. You suck on your fingertips, not caring one bit that they taste like you.

You're moaning around your fingertips; your left hand quickly making circles around your swollen clit. It's a beautiful sight seeing you pleasure yourself, made even more beautiful cause you're doing it for me.

Mmm your cues fire-- Your moans are more desperate. Your legs go to turn inward. You are all but there.

Your fingers leave your lips to grip the comforter; you let out a sexy cry and your body begins to quake. Your thighs clench together, locking your hand to your pussy as you ride it out.

I set my drink down on the floor and get up, approaching the bed. "Good girl," I say.

You smile girlishly at me and relax your limbs. "Now we can play?" You ask still smiling, emphasizing the 'we'.

I watch it fade from your face with my response. "Not yet," I say, grabbing some rope from the chest near the bed.

You look excited when you see it. You won't be when I'm done.

"Sit up for me," I say tenderly. You do and move towards me. "Hands behind your back."

You won't like this at all. Your hands grab the opposite arms and I bind them.

Once through, I walk back to my chair and sit back down. I pick up my drink, "Now cum again," I say patronizingly, a huge grin on my face.

Your reaction is everything I expected and more. Rage, anger, confusion, upset, desperation, and dare I say, betrayal.

"What the hell!," You say loudly, still sitting on your knees at the edge of the bed. "How am I supposed to do that with my hands tied?!"

"You're a clever girl," I say still wearing a self-satisfied grin. "Make it happen," I give a self-righteous nod.

I watch you struggle with the rope, trying so hard to wiggle free. You won't, but I do enjoy the show and effort.

You give up on that route after about 40 seconds. You sit still for a moment, gathering your thoughts, trying to find a solution.

Finally, you look at me; you look sad, but I know better. "Please, Sir," you say pitifully, "I just wanna play."

You are great at this act. A lesser man would fall for it, but I know better.

"Then by all means, princess, play," I say back.

Your sad pout fades and you look annoyed. Your theatrics instantly gone.

You look around the room, trying to devise a plan. "No toys," I say before your mind goes there, "Same rules as before, those holes are mine.

You frown, shifting so your legs hang off the bed. You cautiously set your feet on the floor and stand up.

I wonder what you're going to do. You canvas the room, and walk your vixen self over to me. You stand in front of me. Your quiet eye contact loudly daring me to assist you, to play with you, to bend you over the bed and fuck you.

You smirk, your eyes smiling devilishly. You've got an idea.

You step to the side and straddle my right leg. Sitting with one leg on either side of my thigh, never breaking eye contact with me.

You start grinding on and humping my leg. Fuck, I was not expecting this. You close your eyes and moan softly.

I look down to where your pussy meets my gray slacks. You're leaving a long dark wet spot as you slide and grind your pussy on me. You look down at it, and then to me. I raise my eyebrows letting you know I am more than aware of it. Your bratty self smirks and carries on; eyes closing again, you're perfectly pleased with our wordless exchange.

You find a rhythm you seem content with. My glass is empty save for the little bits of nearly fully melted ice. I set the cold glass against my upper thigh where your wet mark stops.

Your eyes open wide and you gasp when you brush against the cold, condensation-coated whiskey glass.

I'm the one smirking now. You slide along my leg at a shorter length to avoid it at first, but then your pace and tactic adapts. You slide further forward so that your pussy touches the glass. You let it sit against you a moment, adjusting to the temperature against your labia near your clit. Warming it up as it cools you down.

Then you use it as contact for your clit. You treat the glass like a short, wide glass pole-- a touch point for your clit that's easier to hit while sliding along me.

I did say no toys... But I also offered this one inadvertently. I decide to hold it in place.

Your grinding quickens and your eyes close again. I watch you try your damnedest to get off on me; immersed in the closeness, surrounded by the scent of your sex and your soft moans.

It's incredibly hot. "Come on," I almost whisper, egging you on. You half-open your eyes, dazed and lost in the pursuit of an orgasm. "Cum for me."

You barely nod and moan a needy "mmmm", before speeding up a little. "There you go," I encourage you. Your eyes shut and you bite your lip as you rock against me and grind against the glass. The little fragments of ice now water.

You move faster still; your thighs will undoubtedly ache tomorrow. You grind harder into me and within a couple minutes all your little telltale signs start to peak. Your breath is shallow, your moans are short and fast, your grinding motion starts to buck and spasm-- seconds later you're cumming.

"Congratulations, kitten," I say as you slump forward, breathing hard, your head against my chest as you come down. "You did it."

I feel you smile against my chest. "Please, no more," you say desperately.

"You don't want me to play after all that hard work?," I ask surprised.

"Oh, no I do!," You recover quickly to explain, "I want you to play with me, just I don't want to play with me anymore." You emphasize the pronouns cutely.

I set the glass back on the floor and help you up. Your legs are indeed weak, and nearly give out. I get you back on the bed, lying you on your stomach, your legs hanging over the edge. Your hands stay bound to your arms.

"You gonna interrupt me tomorrow?," I ask sternly, undoing my belt.

"No, Sir," you respond quickly, "I won't."

"I'm gonna make sure of it," I say, "One strike for each time you interrupted today; count for me."

You exhale audibly; I strike. You yelp a "One!," as the folded belt lands across the side of your ass.

Another whack, this time on the opposite side. "Two," you say through clenched teeth.

I rub your ass before thwacking the back of your thighs twice. "Three... Four," you wince. Each strike gets me harder and harder.

The last two smacks land on their own cheeks, and you count them out with a "Five!" and a resilient "Six, Sir!"

"Good girl," I commend you. While admiring the reddening rectangular shapes painted across you, I drop the belt and soon after the rest of my clothes.

My fingers explore your post-two-orgasms-and-a-spanking wetness. "Mmm all this for me," I say, rubbing my tip along and between your warm folds, enveloping it in your slickness.

The neediest sound escapes you. A desperate whimpering cry.

"How badly do you want it?," I ask teasing your slit knowing you can't get much more desperate.

"Pleeeease," you say in an eagerly calamitous way. "Please fuck me, Sir. I need it!"

I need it too after watching you play with your clit. After having you use my leg to get off. After marking your ass with my belt.

"You do, don't you?," I ask rhetorically as I line my tip up with your entrance and steadily push into your warm, wet hole until my shaft is completely swallowed by you.

I wait just a moment, savoring your pussy before fucking you. And I do fuck you. Taking what I want from your soaked honeyhole. Your arms tied, your legs already weak. I take what's left of your burning fiery, bratty mentality today with my cock until you're nothing but smouldering ashes. Until you're oozing cum instead of sarcasm and obstinacy.

You will behave tomorrow, I'm sure of it.

Thoughts and feedback appreciated!

TW: rape

Today—being the kinky, little five-foot slut that I am—I decided to indulge in a little self-bondage. And, by a little, I mean a lot. I slipped a vibrating, inflatable buttplug into my asshole and gave it as many pumps as my poor butt could handle, and then an extra for good measure. Then, I slid my favorite rabbit vibrator into my already-slick pussy. The vibrations alone sent me into intense waves of pleasure, but what was really making me wet as a puddle was knowing all that I still had left to go.

I shimmied into a skintight leather catsuit—with convenient zippers to expose both my boobs and from my clitoris to my asscrack—put earbuds into my ears (for my favorite naughty gonewildaudio playlist), then stretched an unforgiving hood over my head. I was now blind and would have to secure the rest by feel.

I shoved a four-inch dildo gag down my throat and locked the latch behind my head. I cinched a corset tight around my torso and locked it, too. I wanted to be constricted and filled in every way I could imagine. I wanted no escape until the right time came.

I strapped my legs and torso tight with a series of leather belts, each one padlocked. Then, I locked my feet into ballet boots and my neck into a stiff posture collar. I could scarcely move, yet I was shaking like bambi. I wanted to be strapped and completely, inescapably immobile before my first climax came, and I could feel it coming very soon.

Finally, I clamped the nipple clamps (attached to my collar) onto my pierced nipples and bound my arms back into an armbinder, locked with a timer lock I had set for two hours. And, in case I somehow managed to wriggle free, I kept the keys to all my padlocks locked away in a lockbox, also secured with a timer. A way out would have just spoiled all my fun.

My self-made prison of pleasure complete, I slumped forward onto my stomach in bed. Fully filled. Fully bound. I was able to fully concentrate on all the sensations. And, my, what sensations I felt!

My pussy and asshole throbbed and pulsed and ached with all the vibrations. Clamps pinched my sore nipples. Moans from the playlist filled my ears as my gag filled my throat. I lay in a puddle of my own grool and drool.

I loved every second of it.

And I loved it even more as I reached my first climax. A fire spread from all my pleasure zones at once, and I convulsed in euphoria. I moaned and screamed and gagged on that plastic cock in my throat like a bitch in heat.

Thank fuck my roommate wasn't home to hear any of that. And he wouldn't be for the next several hours.

Through several orgasms and constant, unending stimulation, I began to lose track of time. I was in this semi-conscious, bondage-induced haze of pleasure.

After what felt like a hazy, blissful eternity, a sharp noise snapped my back to reality. My alarm. As much as I felt sad to have come to an end of my blissful bondage session, every ounce of my body was sore and tired. Two guys named Ben and Jerry and an early bedtime sounded like the perfect way to round out my evening.

I wriggled my wrists, but nothing happened.

I wriggled them again.

Again, nothing.

Did I mis-set my alarm? Maybe the timer would unlock my armbinder any minute now.

My vibrators buzzed on, and every so often I wriggled my wrists again. Each time I tried, I grew a little less patient.

This thing should really be done by now. I felter sore-er and more orgasmed out than from any two-hour session I had had before. Things weren't adding up.

I don't know how long passed like that—me fighting off orgasms, fighting off re-entering that haze, wriggling my wrists to no avail—before I heard the most hopeful sound I had ever heard: the apartment door closing.

Then, footsteps entering the hall.

Robert was home. Salvation.

I scarcely considered being embarassed at the state he'd see me in—bound, helpless, and gushing grool and drool. I was just thanking my lucky stars I hadn't gotten that studio apartment I had liked, that I even had a roommate to rescue me, embarassing as it might be.

I attempted to scream, to call out to him, but the gag had other ideas. While I could make some bit of volume, not an iota of it was intelligle, least of all through a thick bedroom door and sound-proofed bedroom walls.

His footsteps passed. Past my door and on towards his.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

I struggled against my bindings with a renewed energy. There was no way I was gonna die tied in leather for the cops to find and have to explain to my parents. I was only 23, for god's sake, barely out of uni. I had a whole life to live that involved not dying slowly of thirst in my own bed in my own apartment, just meters from safety.

But the locks didn't care. Struggle as I might, I had become too good at my weekly bondage ritual. Damn several-hours-ago-me and her insatiable appetite to be tied up like a whore. And especially damn her ability to make it happen.

As time passed, I struggled less, and I slowly gave up hope. I began to wonder if my parents would even come looking for me, if they even would know where to come looking for me. I couldn't recall ever sending them the new address, especially not in the hazy state I found myself re-entering.

The hazy state where the vibrations in my cunt and ass and the pinch on my tits and the gag in my throat were the only things that mattered. Countless orgasms passed until I was in a near-constant state of semi-climax. My mind lost in a fog of estrogen and dopamine. I no longer knew if it was day or night, if I had slept or not.

Suddenly, a knock.

And then another.

"Julia, are you in there?"

It was Robert.

"Julia, are you in there?" he repeated. "I saw your car out front, but I haven't seen or heard from you since yesterday."

I tried to speak, but forgot I still had a plastic cock in my throat. I settled for screaming.

The door to my bedroom creaked open, and I felt him enter the room. The air changed. Suddenly, I felt all the embarassment flood into my cheeks. I couldn't see him, but I could easily imagine the look of horror on his face. Imagine walking in on your trapped little slut of a roommate bound and blinded in all the leather and locks she could afford, shaking and quivering and dripping away still. I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to look him in the eye again after today.

His footsteps stopped short of my bed.

He waited for a long moment, said nothing. I heard only his heavy breath. All the while, I still quivered and gagged and moaned. And he got to watch it all.

I heard the unmistakable sound of a belt unbuckling. Or was it? I wasn't sure; my brain was too tired and too foggy and the vibrator batteries had somehow still not run out.

I heard the even more unmistakable sound of a zipper unzipping. A footstep towards my bed.

"Well, it seems little miss Julia has gotten herself into quite the pickle." Robert's voice was different. No more care or concern or warmth to it. "Either that, or maybe she wanted me to find her like this..."

Oh no. That didn't sound like help.

A warm, strong hand landed on my butt. It squeezed. I let out a little whimper.

It grabbed the crotch zipper in my catsuit and pulled down, exposing my ass and pussy.

"Well, aren't you quite the slut?" Robert said. "I think you used these toys to get yourself good and wet for me, haven't you?"

I tried to say—no, scream—"No," but only gagged and choked.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Then, the mattress shifted. As if a large bear of a man had just gotten on. Gotten on and mounted my exposed rear.

I tried to scream, but then I felt my rabbit vibe pulled from my vagina. The relief was spoiled when I felt something warm and oh-so-firm press in to replace it.

I tried to plead, but only gagged sputters came out.

His cock slid in. I was wet as the fucking Pacific.

"Fuck, little miss slut Julia really does want this," he said, and he began to slide in and out.

I moaned. A betraying moan. I couldn't help it. His cock was so massive, and I couldn't take it as he thrust it in and out of my sloppy, wet cunt. His balls slapped against my clit.

"And you're so tight, too. Remind me to use the inflatable plugs you got yourself into—or, rather, got into yourself—more often." He thrusted faster and harder. His cock got warmer and firmer. It was like a titanium rod wrecking my guts. Rearranging all my insides.

I both hated it and loved it.

Soon, Robert's breath quickened and he began to fuck me even harder and faster than before, slamming into my cervix. Thrust after thrust. It hurt so good.

I felt his balls tighten up, his body heat hot on my back. He must've been close to cumming. And so was I. I hated it, but fuck if it wasn't the most intense thing I'd ever felt.

He slammed deep into my cunt one last time, and his chest fell onto my bound arms behind me. His cock pulsed hard and spurted a firehose of hot sperm straight into my womb.

That was all little miss slut Julia needed, apparently, as that skyrocketed me over the edge into climax. Sparks coursed my entire nervous system, and I spasmed and moaned and screamed hard. My hungry cunt pulsed and milked his invading cock for all the sperm he had until he had no more to give.

A hot minute later, Robert removed his cock and dismounted me, and I soon heard the sound of a zipper zipping back up and a buckle being rebuckled.

My mind cleared. I had just been fucked—no, raped—by my roommate. And I—being the kinky, little five-foot slut that I am—loved it. Never in all my bondage rituals had I ever felt so out-of-control as I had felt just now.

But then I felt a wet, sticky rabbit vibrator shoved right back into my pussy.

That couldn't have been a good sign.

My catsuit's crotch zipper zipped right back up again. Then, I felt that same warm, strong hand from earlier grab my bound ankles. And pulled them up, and I felt the telltale sensation of a knot being tied. My ankles were now fastened tightly to my armbinder. Turns out, things very much could get worse than they had been earlier, as I was now stuffed with cum and hogtied.

Finally, Robert spoke, "Seems your little timer lock failed you here, missy. But I don't mind; I like you better this way." Then, his footsteps went out my bedroom door, and the door creaked shut behind them.

I was well and truly—and literally—fucked.

A while longer passed after I resuccumbed to that haze where the passage of time seems a far and distant concept. The mild dehydration by now probably wasn't helping in that regard. My lips were parched and my mind swirling, but yet my pussy lips remained wet as ever. Drying them up would be like mopping up the Amazon with an off-brand paper towel. Trapped and dehydrated and violated as I was, I was also the most aroused I had ever been in my life, and my sopping cunt bore that story.

I was stirred from my haze my the sound of the door and footsteps again. Robert.

"Now, you're probably pretty thirsty and hungry by now, and you probably really need to take a piss and maybe a shit, so I'm gonna make things simple. If you want any of that, you gotta promise not to scream and not to do anything else you think I might not take kindly to. Nod if you agree."

I nodded, hard as it was to in my collar.

"That's a good girl," he said. "Truth be told, you'd probably love what I'm about to do to you, even without the promise of food and water. Judging from that little gag you got on there for me, that is."

His footsteps came right to the foot of the bed, where my head lay. The floorboards creaked, and the fabric of his clothes rustled. I felt hot breath on my hooded face.

"You know, the timer lock you put on your little lockbox didn't fail." His hand reached around my head and fiddled with the lock on my gag until it sprang loose. My mouth and throat were free. Free and incredibly sore.

But I could breathe easily again. I could swallow my spit again, rather than drooling. I didn't want to imagine how many liters of saliva I'd drooled.

No sooner was my throat freed than I felt that hot titanium rod of his entering, simultaneously bigger, longer, and harder than the dildo gag it was replacing. And it was thrusting. Thrusting hard. Robert was unrelenting his fucking my throat; he was giving it the same treatment he had given my pussy.

And little miss slut Julia loved it. Violated as my throat was, my pussy poured. There was no way I was going to last long at all like this. Not with a hot cock fucking my throat and the vibrators humming away down there, the rest of me helpless as ever. My body loved knowing I was his personal fuckdoll, whether my mind liked it or not.

I moaned hard on his cock and came. My pussy and ass and tits were on fire. My throat clamped down on his cock, and that must have sent him into climax, too, as, next thing I knew, hot spurts of cum were shooting down my throat. I didn't even need to swallow with how deep he was and how hard he came; his sperm shot straight into my stomach.

A hazy, blissful moment later, Robert removed his cock from my throat, and I heard his pants fasten.

"Oh, and I got you a few other presents, too. Rewards for a job well done."

I heard a bit of crinkling, and then I felt a significant something being placed over my ears. Headphones. As soon as they were on all the way, the world went completely silent. Noise-cancelling headphones. I was now both blind and deaf. I doubt even Helen Keller had ever found herself in quite my situation.

Then, I felt something touch my lips. A straw!

I slurped and drank all the water I could until I felt ready to burst. After the water, he fed me some food. It could have been stagnant pond water and surströmming and I would've drunk and eaten it all.

Soon after I finished the food and water, two strong arms snaked under my torso and heaved me onto an even stronger shoulder, to be taken to the bathroom to relieve myself. I really was trapped. He had a plan for everything, and he could keep me like this for years. So long as he gave me food and water and let me go to the bathroom, there was nothing stopping him from keeping me like this. And why shouldn't he? He'd already raped me twice, kept me captive for at least a day. If he let me go, I'd run to the cops, and he'd be behind bars. If he kept me like this—blind, deaf, and filled with cum—he'd live a lifetime a free man. A free man with a warm little miss slut Julia to cum in twice a day.

After that, only Robert could tell how much time passed. It felt like weeks, but the number of loads I received suggested probably only a few days. I also found out that the one hole he had left untouched—my asshole—was just as much in the rotation of holes to fuck and fill with cum as were my throat and pussy. In fact, he rotated through them like clockwork: pussy, throat, ass, pussy, throat, ass, ... and so on ad infinitum.

Time passed in a delirious, semi-orgasmic haze only broken by fucks, sucks, food, and toilet. The only thing I saw was black. The only thing I heard was that damned playlist. The only things I felt were the constant vibes, Robert's hands on me, his dick in me, and his cum further in me. But, god, if my soaked pussy didn't love every moment of it. My body eagerly lapped up every spurt of cum Robert would grace me with. His cum was the spice melange to me; I needed it to flow.

But, one day—and I certainly didn't know which day—I felt the ever so slightest click. I felt no hands on me, however. No hefty presence in the room. Just that click so soft and faint I thought I must've been delirious. I was pretty coked up on bondage and cum, after all...

But then I felt my armbinder loosen. Just a tiny bit, but enough that I didn't immediately disregard it as delirium.

I wiggled my arms a bit, unsure. They moved. Just a bit more than expected. I wiggled more. They moved more. Soon, I had them wiggled entirely out of the armbinder. I was free.

Or almost. I still had all these other padlocks to contend with. And I was still completely blind and deaf until I got myself unbound. And, worse, I had no clue where or when Robert was. If this was to be my window of opportunity, I had to work fast.

I shimmied to the edge of my bed, where I kept my lockbox and felt for the lock. Padlocked. Of course.

For the first time in however many days, I was glad for at least one thing past me had done right: a spare lockbox.

It took me several minutes, but I shimmied off the bed and onto the floor, swung my bound legs under the bed to fish for my spare lockbox, and reel it back in. It still had the timer lock on, meaning Robert never found it to replace the lock.

I opened it up and spent the next minute hurriedly trying keys in different locks until I finally got everything unlocked and myself unbound. I hadn't been sure if I'd ever make it out of my devious contraption ever again. Someone really ought to market that whole getup as "kinky slut trap". Like gluepaper for bugs, but for kinky, little five-foot sluts named Julia instead.

I lay down naked on the floor for a minute, sore and exhausted, letting my eyes adjust to the intense brightness of standard indoor lighting. I looked at the timer lock and saw it displayed a simple "99". God-fucking-damnit. I had somehow set it to the max time of 99 hours. I had been bound and fucked and gone through all of that for four whole days. I'd been a four-day fuckdoll. I knew I couldn't let it be one day longer.

I stood up and went to my dresser to get dressed and get out of there. I scarcely noticed the cum dripping out my pussy and ass and running down my legs.

When I opened it, however, it was bare. None of my regular clothes were to be found. I opened the other drawers, and, again, nothing. Nothing except terrifying-and-tantalizing—like I said, kinky slut trap—new bondage gear Robert seemed to have gotten.

Even if my pussy was still wet from everything, my heart was racing. What all had Robert done while I was locked up?

I searched for my phone to call 911, but it, too, was gone. He must've been playing it to the headphone from another room. Panic really began to set in. I didn't care if I had to run out naked with cum visibly running down my legs, so long as I got out.

But my bedroom door wouldn't budge. Locked. From the outside. It had never even had a lock before. Fuck.

I went to the window, but that had iron bars that wouldn't budge, and the window was blacked out. No hope there.

A car door shut outside.

Shit. Please don't be Robert.

Footsteps. Coming closer. Coming here.

I looked back at all the gear. I only had one plan I could do. I could only hope Robert would not come into my room first thing upon entering. I couldn't imagine Robert would take kindly to finding me like this.

One by one—and as fast as I could—I shoved back in my plug and vibrator, slipped back into my catsuit, pulled on the hood, locked on the collar and corset, clamped up my very sore tits, locked my gag back in place, locked back on my ballet boots and belts, put the headphones back on, and, finally, slipped my arms back into place in the armbinder and cinched the hogtie back into what felt like how Robert had done it. Only thing different was I left the timer lock just barely unlocked.

And there I lay, bound, blind, and deaf again. By the time I felt the air in the room change, I could already feel probably the millionth cursed orgasm building up in me again. As the plug stretched and vibrated my poor asshole, the vibrator pulsed and teased my sopping pussy, the plastic cock choked and gagged me like a bitch, and the clamps pinched down on my nipples, I waited.

Until I felt a hand fiddling around my wrists. Near the timer lock. My wrists' binding loosened for a moment, then a hand held my wrists tight as some more fiddling happened. Then, the hand let go, and my armbinder was tight again. The lock was changed. Fuck.

I felt no more hands after that. I was left to stew and finish out my orgasm and my next orgasm and the one after and the one after... Until whenever he decided to grace me with his cock again. This was my life now.

I was now his forever fuckdoll.

My cunt moistened at the thought.

This is what little miss slut Julia wanted.

This one is a bit of a long one.

Recently, I've met a new sub. She is pretty inexperienced. She had been with one dom before me, but that didn't last long. She has a lot of tattoos (This will be relevant later).

We had our first session; I didn't go overboard, since it's all still new to her. There are two important details about the session.

The first one is about her tatoos. She has a full sleeve on her left arm, two one her feet, and a bigger one on her back. At some point, when she was lying on her belly with her hands tied behind her back, I ran my fingers on her back and said "Wow!" She said "What is it?" I said how beautiful her tattoo looked. She was overjoyed, like unnaturally happy. At the moment I just thought She's big on tattoos, just look at her body; that's why she's so happy about it.

The second detail is about the end of the session. I was standing up, next to the bed, and she was kneeling in front of me; she sucked me off (deepthroated), and it ended with a facial. I untied her hands and sat on the edge of the bed to catch my breath before checking her and going for the aftercare. Then, she just stood straight up, like a stick, and started wandering off. I asked where she is going. She said she's going to the bathroom to clean her face (Her makeup had started running on her face as well).

I got up, carried her to the bathroom in a bridal position and cleaned her face in the bathroom. Her eyes were really red, and I assumed it was because she had deepthroated me. Out of nowhere, she started crying. At this point, a billion thoughts are going through my head. Did I do something wrong? Did I push her too far, and she didn't use the safeword? Is she hurt somewhere? So I asked what's wrong? She didn't say anything, just hugged me like a child. I held her for a few minutes. We just stood there as she cried and eventually calmed down.

We both sat down on the floor of the bathroom, and she told me what it's all about. Her previous dom would go through the session and just leave her there after he was done. No aftercare basically. On top of that, he never gave her any compliments; she was more of a fuck-toy than an actual person. As if shit couldn't be worse, her parents had found out about her kinky side and had cut all contact. The usual religious family who shout "Deviant" and "Sinner" at anything they don't understand. She is a pretty lonely individual in general, not many friends. So, it's only natural that she would feel neglected and abandoned.

The reason why she was crying was because I actually took care of her, complimented her beautiful body, etc. She said, and I quote, "It's the first time in months someone has treated me like an actual human being." Now, I'm not telling this story to make myself look good. I'm not doing something extra here that's worthy of praise. As a dom, it's my job to take care of the person who has put their trust in me. It's your job as well if you're a dom. You need to understand how much trust a sub puts in you when they let you tie them up in all these extremely vulnerable positions, when they let you deprive them of their senses. If that trust is broken, it can, and most likely will, do some serious damage to the sub. Just look at my example; she had reached a point where a simple "This tattoo looks lovely on you." made her overjoy.

To end it, always take care of your sub. Make sure they know how much you care about them/love them. A simple "You look lovely." or "That looks good on you." can sometimes do much more than the best dirty talk (Not that dirty talk is bad, just saying). I know most doms know these stuff, but I still wanted to share this story. To be honest, I got pretty angry at the previous dom and needed to take it out of my system. In case you're curious about the aftermath, she ended up staying at my place that night. We didn't do anything sexual, just talked, watched movies, and slept together (actual sleeping not banging).

Look, I get it. I was being cheeky. Bratty, even. And yes, maybe I was being bratty for four days straight, taking advantage of my slight head cold because I knew he wouldn’t punish me while I was sick. Maybe I got a little drunk on the prospect of being above the law.

Each time I acted out, he’d shoot me a look of warning and I would think, Oh, he won’t forget this. This will get me in trouble. Then I would contemplate amending my ways but ultimately decided against it. After all, I was sick and bored. What else is a girl to do but torment her daddy?

So, fine. I was being a brat too long and with too much enthusiasm, but…

‘But I was sick,’ I protest. I’m kneeling on the floor of our room, completely naked, my arms bound behind my back. Rope encircles my torso, digging into the soft flesh of my breasts. The cool air caresses my nipples and I wriggle in my bindings, staring up at him pleadingly. He made me wait two days after my sniffles were gone before playing and I’m already impatient. I want to be bent over and fucked already, not bound and berated. ‘I had immunity from being punished.’

He raises his eyebrows. ‘That’s definitely not how it works.’ He clears his throat and begins to list my transgressions, referring to a sheet of notebook paper. ‘“Got Daddy hard in the doctor’s waiting room, then giggled until she was called in for her appointment.”’

‘That was the cold medicine,’ I say defensively. His expression, halfway between unimpressed and businesslike, turns me on more than it should.

‘“Refused to adhere to bedtime three nights in a row, despite being sick and needing to rest.”’

I pout. ‘I’d slept all day. I wasn’t tired yet.’

‘“Ate stale cookies for dinner instead of the soup Daddy made. Twice.”’

Ugh.

‘“Snuck into Daddy’s toy box while he was working, stole a vibrator, and came three times without permission.”’

Yeah, that was naughty. I would not have confessed to that had I known I could be held liable for my actions.

‘“Said ‘make me’ six times—on average—per day.”’ He pauses and shakes his head. ‘I kept count.’

I grimace.

He tosses the paper and walks over slowly, leaning down to stroke my face. ‘Naughty little brat,’ he coos, in the same voice he uses to call me a good girl. The contrast between his tone and his words heralds what will no doubt be a night-long mind fuck. ‘And look at you now, all tied up and helpless. Poor baby. I’m going to make you regret being so naughty.’ He pats my cheek hard—not quite a slap, but forceful enough to sting. My pussy clenches and a soft moan escapes me. ‘You like that, huh? Dirty girl.’ He slaps my cheek again, then grabs my face in one hand as he crouches down.

Pink-cheeked and desperately turned on, I lean forward, hoping for a kiss. He laughs at me, holding my face still. ‘Don’t be silly. I’m not giving you what you want for a long while yet.’ He slides his boot between my knees and pushes them apart. ‘Oh, you’re a desperate little thing, aren’t you? Already so wet.’ He strokes the inside of my thigh, slick with my arousal, drawing lines of fire closer and closer and—

Slap.

Just as his fingers neared my pussy, he stopped and instead landed a stinging smack to the inside of my thigh.

My eyes water as the sensitive skin flushes red. ‘Rude,’ I mutter, earning myself another smack. ‘You stay right there, princess.’ He smirks, patting my stinging cheek.

He rises and disappears behind me. I’m breathing so heavily, flushed with arousal and frustration, I barely hear him rummaging around in a drawer. He returns with my vibrator and a short length of rope. I squirm in anticipation, but reality sets in quickly. If he were feeling generous, the sight of the vibrator would be a good one. But he’s not feeling generous tonight.

‘Let’s make a deal,’ I say, trying to sound imperious as he crouches down to bind the vibrator to my thigh. ‘You get this little power trip over and done with quickly and I’ll let you fuck me.’ My voice strains toward the end as he presses the vibrator firmly against my clit. He hasn’t even turned it on, but my hips rock against it automatically, desperate for some friction.

‘You’ll let me fuck you,’ he repeats. His smile is humourless and the sight of his steely eyes almost knocks the breath out of me. He’s very much in control here and I am very much in trouble. I swallow a moan. ‘Princess, you’re not letting me do anything. I can do whatever I want,’ he flicks the vibrator on and I cry out at the wave of sensation, ‘whenever I want,’ he turns it up a notch and my hands ball into fists behind my back, ‘however I want.’ It’s been so long since we’ve played and I was so turned on already that my orgasm approaches swiftly, heat spreading through my body as my hips rock shamelessly against the vibrator.

‘Oh—oh—Daddy, can I please—’

He turns it off.

I almost fall forward as my body sags, but he catches me and sits me upright. ‘You’re just a helpless little girl with no control,’ he tells me. His voice sounds muted as desperate indignation over my stolen orgasm floods through me. A needy whimper escapes me. ‘You don’t get to come unless I allow it.’ He leans closer, his thumb gently stroking my throat. ‘And I don’t allow it, because you’re a naughty brat who doesn’t deserve to come.’

‘No, Daddy, please—’

‘Did I say you could speak?’

I stare at him pleadingly but shut up. One hand grips a fistful of my hair so I can’t move my head, the other reaching between my legs. He shoves my thighs farther apart before turning the vibrator back on, turning it to the lowest setting. Just enough to keep me on edge, but not enough to push me over.

‘You tease me all week by being a brat, now it’s my turn to tease you.’

He stands up, not releasing his handful of my hair, and presses my face into his crotch. The denim rubs against my skin and I feel the hard length of his cock through the material. He releases me to unzip his fly, and even though I’m slightly frantic at the prospect of not being allowed to come tonight, my eyes glaze at the sight of him.

‘Open up, princess.’

I obey, taking him into my mouth, and a moan escapes me, muffled by his cock. His thrusts are slow at first, but quickly pick up speed. I run my tongue along his length and the movement of my hips against the weakly-pulsing vibrator becomes more desperate as my desire increases. Soon he’s fucking my face, two hands in my hair, guiding my movements. Wetness trickles down the inside of my thigh.

‘Should I come in your mouth or on your face?’ he muses.

I panic. What?! This is supposed to be foreplay! His threat to not let me come was just that—a threat. Right?

My protests are muffled by his cock in my mouth and he laughs at me. ‘You thought I was bluffing, didn’t you? Silly girl.’ His voice is strained slightly, and I can tell he’s close to coming. I try to move away to prevent his release, but he shoves me back down. ‘Uh-uh. You can’t get out of it that easily.’ But he leans over to check my hands, making sure I don’t have three fingers up—our non-verbal safeword. I stick my middle fingers up defiantly instead.

‘Little brat,’ he growls. The tempo of his thrusts increases, his cock pulsing, and I gag slightly, which only serves to encourage him. I whine—he should be coming inside me—but his hand holds my head firm, not letting me go. Cum fills my mouth and I swallow, relishing the taste of him. He withdraws before he’s finished, and warmth spatters my face as his orgasm slowly subsides.

‘Please,’ I gasp, sagging forward slightly, his hand gripping my hair the only thing keeping me from face-planting. My thighs are soaked; all I want is to be fucked. The stupid vibrator continues shuddering against me, too faint and slow to be anything more than a tease. ‘Daddy, please.’

He crouches down so we’re face-to-face, his hand still fisting my hair. I’m helpless, entirely unable to move—I can’t even turn my head. A drop of cum falls from my chin, landing on my breast and trailing down toward my stiff nipple. ‘You’re a mess,’ he says sympathetically. ‘You look like an absolute whore, princess.’

I whimper. ‘Daddy…’

‘What is it, baby?’

I wriggle, my eyes misted with tears. I need to come. ‘Please. Please.’

‘You want to come, is that it? You’re a desperate little slut who wants to come?’

‘Yes,’ I moan. ‘Please! Please, Daddy, please.’

‘Please what?’ he asks coldly.

‘Please can I come,’ I beg. ‘Please—I’ll do anything, Daddy, please can I—’

‘Shh, shh.’ He lets go of my hair and trails a hand down my neck lovingly, moving down until he reaches my breast. He pinches my taut nipple, twisting roughly, and I groan. ‘You were such a good girl just now…I guess I can let you come.’ His mouth twists in a wicked smirk. ‘But you’ll regret it.’

He reaches down and turns the vibrator up. I’m too relieved to process his threat. The slight increase in vibrations tips me over the edge and a faint cry escapes me as I come hard, eyes shutting, my whole body going taut as waves and waves of pleasure wash through me. I shudder as the aftershocks slowly subside, slumping against his chest.

‘Good girl,’ he whispers, then reaches down to turn the vibrator off—but he presses a button and rather than stopping, its speed increases. I whine at the overload of sensation, another orgasm ripping through me almost immediately.

‘Did that feel good, baby?’ he coos. ‘Want another one?’

I shake my head, barely able to speak. My hips jerk, now trying to escape the vibrations. ‘Too much,’ I mumble.

‘Too bad,’ he says.

‘What?’

He doesn’t bother to answer. The vibrator continues its assault on my swollen clit, and my muscles ache from tensing all over. His hand trails down my chest, pinching and stroking and twisting my nipples, a welcome distraction from the fire between my legs. A particularly rough pinch has me whimpering and another orgasm, sudden and unexpected, crashes over me.

‘Daddy,’ I plead, but the word is garbled as I begin to float away, delicious fog clouding my thoughts My hips squirm, trying to get a break, but all the movement does is intensify the pressure from the vibrator. I shudder.

He moves away, gently laying my upper body on the floor so I’m face-down, my ass in the air. What a sight I must be—arms bound, thighs soaked with arousal, cum on my cheek. The new angle offers a bit of relief and I exhale shakily. His footsteps sound distant, muted, and I barely notice him rummaging in the drawer again.

I do notice the pressure of cold glass against my pussy and yelp in surprise as he pushes the curved toy inside me. My yelp turns to a moan, then to a whimper as the overstimulation overwhelms me once again.

He turns the vibrator up and I cry out.

‘Don’t move, princess,’ he tells me with a wicked grin, patting my head. ‘I’m going downstairs to get a beer.’

I come again, and again, and again.

Future themes: female humiliation, maledom, dubcon, misogyny, female orgasm control, brainwashing, possible orientation play and femdom

— —

Julia waited outside Dr. Grace Hampton's office hours. She didn’t like Dr. Hampton very much, but she needed to speak with her.

Julia sighed in impatience, waiting for the student currently in Dr. Hampton's office to leave. She was blabbing on, asking basic questions about microbiology —far less important than what Julia needed her professor for. If this girl was that behind in class, she should probably just drop it. She shouldn't be making people wait just because she was too dumb to understand fermentation.

Julia stood and walked to the door, coughing impatiently to communicate to the girl to move along.

“How much longer are you going to be?” she complained.

Dr. Hampton looked at the student apologetically and told her to return in fifteen minutes.

Julia scoffed at the girl as she exited the office, nearly in tears over her confusion on yeast. What a dummy, Julia thought. That girl will probably end up waiting tables for a living.

She entered her professor’s office. She sat down across from Dr. Hampton, noting the numerous awards on her shelves. Her accomplishments were a little intimidating, but Julia knew it was only a matter of age. She was just as intelligent as her professor, if not more. She just needed to graduate to show the world how smart she was.

"I wanted to talk about the opportunity you mentioned in class," Julia stated, feigning excitement to talk to her professor. "I'm really interested in being a part of the project."

She actually wasn't that interested. In fact, she didn't want to do it at all. But after her father had cut her off financially for “reckless spending,” she was behind on her tuition payments and was quickly building up credit card debt. Her father’s selfishness was completely destroying her life. She needed money quickly, and she wasn’t about to get a normal job. She couldn’t be seen working a customer service job like she was poor. It would destroy her reputation.

Dr. Hampton eyed Julia up. It made Julia uncomfortable. She hoped Dr. Hampton wasn't a lesbian. She didn't want to work with a lesbian. Lesbians icked her out.

"Well we do have a spot for one more participant, but I'm not sure you're the right fit," the professor responded plainly, returning her eyes to the screen in front of her.

"No, no, I think I'm perfect for this,” Julia said. “I think I would be a great asset to the study. I’ve helped conduct many studies myself, so I know what to do." She was exaggerating, if not outright lying. She’d done a few experiments in class, but nothing to the caliber of what Elite Enterprises was conducting. She knew a little bit about the company, but not much. They had a bad reputation in the science world for questionable research, so she didn’t know why Dr. Hampton was even working with them. She was probably getting a generous kickback.

In class, Dr. Hampton had explained that the study was on human sexuality and morality, and that they were seeking young women to work with in exchange for generous compensation. The men in the room laughed at the idea of their female peers being strapped down to gynecology tables and molested. Julia was sure the study wouldn't involve anything like that. Even though Elite Enterprises had a bad reputation, this was a government funded study conducted by the university. It would be professional. Their reputation was probably only due to the fact that they researched human sexuality, which made people uncomfortable. That, or the fact that the CEO had a few sexual assault accusations against him. But that wasn’t her problem. If girls didn’t want to get sexually assaulted, they could just be less slutty. She’d never been sexually assaulted, so she knew it was easy to avoid it. Girls just needed to act more like her and less like desperate sluts.

"If you really are interested, you can meet me at the Straw Building at 8:00 pm. We can talk to you about the study and we'll see if you're a good fit." She handed Julia a thick stack of papers. "Sign these. If we don't accept you, you'll still get $500 for completing the screening. If you move on, we'll add another $4500 to that check."

Until now, Julia hadn't realized how high the pay was. She needed this. It would save her life. $500 would be nice, but it wouldn’t cover much of her debt. $5000 would cover much of her tuition debt, and that was only the first paycheck. She needed to be accepted to this opportunity. Julia took the papers and flipped through, signing and dating each page without reading the contract. It was just legal mumbo jumbo. She didn't need to read it.

— —

Arriving at the Straw building at 8:00 PM, Dr. Hampton brought her through the building and into a small medical office.

Julia hoisted herself onto the exam table, prepared to begin the screening.

"We need to ask you a few questions to determine if you're a good fit for the study. We will be tracking your answers for honesty via a lie detector tracking your heart rate and vaginal response, so please don't waste my time by trying to be dishonest," Dr. Hampton explained, clicking away at the computer next to the exam table.

Julia looked shocked. "My vaginal response?," she questioned, alarmed. "Is that really necessary?"

Dr. Hampton looked at her judgmentally.

"Please don't waste my time. If you want to leave, you can, but this is a study on human sexuality. If you're too frigid to handle that, you aren't a good fit."

Julia felt personally attacked. She wasn’t frigid! She'd had sex plenty of times. Okay, maybe once or twice, but still! She was just raised to respect herself and not spread her legs for every man who talked to her, unlike most girls she knew. Over the past few years, she'd let a couple guys lick her pussy and then fuck her in missionary. She wasn't falling for the crap that told women being a slut was empowering. That wasn't real feminism.

Julia could handle this, even if it was uncomfortable. She was just doing a gynecological exam. She wasn't spreading her legs for a boy, it was for her own good— $5k to pay off her debts. She couldn't let that kind of money pass her by.

"Um, I can handle it," she babbled, trying to convince her professor she was a goodfit. She slid her skirt and panties down her legs, and neatly folded them beside her, keen on remaining dignified despite the awkward exam.

Dr. Hampton stopped typing and hopped down from her chair. Sauntering over to her patient, she started attaching equipment to Julia’s body to track her vital signs. Julia tried not to make eye contact. She didn't want to be this intimate with her professor.

Julia took a deep breath as her professor walked between her legs and checked out her cunt, holding an intimidating looking thick white probe. It was probably going to go inside her. She grimaced a little at the thought. She hadn’t had much up there recently.

Before she even realized what was happening, Dr. Hampton had locked her ankles to the exam table, spreading them. She yelped in shock as her exposed pussy spread to her professor. She couldn't even close her legs if she wanted to. It made Julia feel insecure and vulnerable, but she didn't want to complain. Dr. Hampton needed to think she was a good fit.

As Dr. Hampton inspected her, peeling apart her labia and circling her clitoris with her finger, Julia closed her eyes and tried to pretend she was somewhere else. To Julia's horror, her professor's manipulation was starting to make her pussy wet. She grit her teeth, trying to pull through. She hoped Dr. Hampton couldn’t tell she was getting wet.

"You're lubing up nicely, so we won't need to use any lubricant to insert the device," Dr. Hampton explained. Julia flushed with shame, feeling emotionally exposed in addition to her physical exposure. She couldn’t even hide the way her body was reacting. She hoped Dr. Hampton didn't think she liked this. She couldn't control what made her wet. It was only a physiological reaction to the stimulation.

Dr. Hampton suddenly inserted the probe into her hole, and Julia accidentally let out a soft moan as the phallic device filled her pussy. She reddened even further.

"Hmm, it's not picking up anything," Dr. Hampton murmured, jiggling the device inside her cunt, shallowly thrusting it in and out of her hole. It felt like she was being fucked as the probe stretched her walls, its tip pressing against her g-spot. She felt violated and wanted to close her legs so badly. Burning with shame, Julia tried to hold back her pleasure. Why did it feel so good? She wasn't a slut. She rarely even played with her pussy. She wasn’t this kind of girl.

As Dr. Hampton fiddled with the probe, Julia realized with horror that an orgasm was building inside her. She couldn't cum. Not only would she not be given the opportunity, she would never be able to show her face in class again. Her professor would think she was a slut. She closed her eyes and tried to control her pleasure as Dr. Hampton unintentionally fucked her pussy, her wetness squelching around with each movement. It was so embarrassing, Julia hoped her professor wasn’t focused on her sounds. As her orgasm built, Julia tried to think upsetting thoughts—her debt, her fake friends, her shitty ex-boyfriends. Right as she teetered on the edge of an orgasm, Dr. Hampton blissfully withdrew the probe as quickly as she'd put it in, stopping her orgasm in its tracks. While her pussy mourned its loss, Julia thanked the earth for having mercy on her. No orgasm was worth that.

"I can't get this to work, so I'm going to have my colleague give this a shot. I'll be back in a second. Stay still," she said, before exiting the room, leaving the door ajar behind her.

Acutely aware of her vulnerability, Julia shouted after her professor, yelling for her to close the door but was ignored. Julia burned with shame, knowing that anyone could walk by her examination room and get an eyeful of her wet pussy. She bucked her knees, fighting her ankle cuffs as she tried to cover her shame to no avail. She was still on campus and hated the idea of one of her classmates walking by and seeing her spread pussy. If that happened, she’d probably need to drop out. Or threaten whoever saw her into silence. Her life would be over.

After minutes of fruitlessly trying to free her ankles, the door to the exam room swung open and a young man followed Dr. Hampton into the room.

Julia screamed at the sudden male presence, shooting her hands between her thighs to protect her cunt from his eyes. He could still see her humiliating predicament, but at least he couldn’t look straight at her cunt.

Wait— was this the colleague who was supposed to insert the probe into her? He didn’t look any older than her! He couldn’t possibly be qualified to work on this study. She didn’t want him anywhere near her naked cunt.

Dr. Hampton looked at Julia judgmentally as the girl desperately covered her body. She looked pathetic.

"Are you going to be this much of a priss the whole time?" She scolded, glaring at her like she was an unruly child. "Uncover yourself, silly girl."

Tears brimming in her eyes, Julia pulled back her hands from her pussy and spread her legs back to where her professor had left them. She didn't want Dr. Hampton thinking she was a priss. She needed this money.

"I'm sorry, I was just shocked," she explained shamefully, trying to avoid looking at the two near-strangers beside her. If she looked at them, she might not be able to stop her tears from falling.

"Good girl," Dr. Hampton consoled. "This is Frank Palmer. He is currently working on his medical degree. Until he graduates, you may refer to him as Mr. Palmer or sir."

Dr. Palmer was a tall, handsome young man. If she had met him under different circumstances, Julia might even be interested in him, but he had no right to be between her legs now. She felt humiliated to have to not be able to call someone her own age by his first name. She wasn't less than him.

She closed her eyes and grimaced as he placed himself between her legs at the foot of the exam table and began to rub her clitoris between his fingers.

"You have a lovely cunt, you know," he complimented. If Julia could have gotten redder, she would have. He was being so inappropriate. She would need to complain to Dr. Hampton later.

"Here at Elite Enterprises," Dr. Hampton explained, "we think that having men in every exam room really helps women adjust to the process."

That felt really wrong. She felt so much worse now that Frank was here, looking at her cunt. Only two men had ever looked at her down there, and she made them earn it. Frank hadn’t done anything to deserve this other than being a man at Elite Enterprises. She felt so violated. She wanted to ask him to leave but knew she had no right to if she wanted to be in this study. She could complain later. Maybe, when her dad got over himself, she could use her dad’s connections to get Frank thrown out of school.

It didn’t matter how angry Julia was at the circumstances, Frank was still going to sink the probe into her cunt. He spread her cunt with his fingers before inserting it into her. She successfully held back her moan this time. She was angry at herself for still feeling needy. It had dissipated somewhat while she was waiting, but her pussy was still wet and she knew arousal wasn't far away if Frank decided to fuck her pussy with the device like Dr. Hampton did. Then she could really get him fired, once she got her power back.

Julia felt like she was being intentionally messed with as Frank shallowly fucked her cunt with the probe. A sick part of her just wanted him to slam it into her and fuck her with it. She felt like she was being edged. Tortured with arousal.

"As Grace explained, we've hooked up the device to test your arousal while you answer questions, while we're tracking your vitals to ensure you answer honestly."

Julia squirmed with anxiety. She hoped the questions wouldn't be too bad.

"Are you sexually active?" Frank asked.

"Not currently," she responded.

"Why not?"

"... because I don't know anyone I want to have sex with?" She answered, confused at the question. Why was that even a question? Weren’t these scientists and doctors?

"So, your sexual activity is determined by how much you want to engage in it?"

“Obviously,” she rolled her eyes. Julia knew she should be respectful to keep on Dr. Hampton’s good side, but she couldn’t control herself. They shouldn’t be hiring such stupid interns if they can’t understand basic concepts like relationships.

Frank furrowed his brow at her insolence. It annoyed him, but it would only make destroying her attitude even more fun once he had the chance. In response to her bitchiness, Frank started fucking her with the probe again, rougher this time.

Frank and Dr. Hampton looked at each other knowingly as she squirmed. Julia was perfect. As frustrating as bitches like Julia were, they were way more fun to work with in the long run. Nothing was quite as appealing as humiliating a girl who thought she was better than everyone.

Frank spoke. “We would like to move forward with you. You will receive $5000 as your first payment as discussed. Moving forward, you will receive $1,000 a week in compensation for your time.”

Julia could have clapped with excitement, if she still didn’t have a dildo in her cunt. It was less money than she was spending on her dad’s credit card, but she could manage with $4,000 a month.

“We will insert your patent-pending tracking and control device now,” Frank explained. “As you read, you are free to exit the study at any time, per the terms of your contract. Please just let us know if you have any questions or concerns.”

Julia paused. What tracking device? She hadn’t been told about any device, but she didn’t want to ask and make herself look stupid, in case it was in her paperwork. She was a little nervous to move forward, but Frank had said she could leave the study at any time, so that reassured her. If she didn’t like whatever it did to her, she could leave. Hopefully, by that point, her dad would be giving her money again.

Before she knew it, Frank was bandaging up her arm. Thankfully, the insertion of the device had been painless and quick.

“Please ensure you orgasm tonight, using both vaginal and clitoral stimulation, so the tracker can learn your body’s cues for orgasm,” Frank instructed. “You will not receive your payment until we receive notice that you have orgasmed at least once.”

Julia blushed, dressing herself and collecting her things, eager to leave her humiliating evening behind. As embarrassing as it was that they could track her orgasms, orgasming for a paycheck didn’t seem too bad. She could handle that.

Ch2

Warning: this story contains scenes involving consensual non-consent. Reader discretion advised. 18+ only.

_________

His Zoom meeting wraps up and he looks down at me, an eyebrow raised. ‘Feeling a bit needy today, princess?’

I've been sprawled on the carpet by his feet for almost an hour, doing a fine job of behaving myself. I could have easily teased him or made a nuisance of myself, but I kept quiet and passed the time by idly scrolling through social media.

‘Nope,’ I lie, still staring at my phone. A cute cat gif earns itself an upvote.

‘Oh, okay. I guess that means you don’t feel like playing.’

My scrolling finger pauses over a tasteless political meme. ‘I didn’t say that…’

‘No, no, it’s alright. You want to be a big girl and sit there on your phone. Being quite rude, I might add. Maybe I should go for a run.’

The prick. Of all his tactics, this is the one I hate most. By withholding my favourite part of being naughty—the punishment—he takes away any power I have. And it’s not like I can brat my way out of it, either. I learned early on he doesn’t bluff and will gladly deprive me of any and all attention if I keep being naughty. Usually he’ll try other, more fun methods first, like restraints, edging, or a good old spanking.

I’m a bit miffed he’s gone straight for the kill-shot. But I really, really want attention…and an orgasm or three. No way will I risk being deprived of fun, so I drop my phone and sit upright. I half-pout, half-scowl at my lap. ‘Fine. You’re right. I want to play.’

He puts a finger under my chin and tilts my head up, forcing me to meet his amused gaze. ‘You’ll have to be a bit more enthusiastic than that, sweetheart. And you owe me an apology for not using your manners.’

‘I’m sorry for staring at my phone when you were talking to me,’ I mutter. Meekness does not come easily to me. I hate it, and I love how much that turns me on. ‘And I really, really want to play with you, Daddy.’

‘That’s better,’ he allows. ‘But naive. You don’t get to play with Daddy. Daddy gets to play with you. My little toy.’ He pats my cheek, just hard enough to sting. ‘Now stand up.’

My eyes narrow at the same time my pussy clenches. My lizard-brain screams at me to disobey, but my body, flushed hot and desperate for his cock, tells me to do as I’m told. My split second of hesitation is too long—or maybe it’s my stubborn expression—and he grabs a fistful of my hair, dragging me to my feet.

I yelp in surprise, almost losing balance. He’s tall enough that he doesn’t even need to stand up. His grip tightens in my hair briefly, a reminder of his control, and he lets go.

‘Are you going to be a good girl for me tonight?’ he asks in a low voice.

‘Yes.’ I add quickly, ‘Daddy.’

He looks dubious; after all, I’m not known for my obedience. ‘Take off your clothes.’

‘But—‘

‘Take off your fucking clothes or I’ll tie you down and cut them off you.’

The harsh words make my breath hitch and I’m tempted to play with fire and dare him to do it, but I quite like this shirt. And…there’s something intoxicatingly humiliating about baring myself to him while he remains seated and fully clothed.

A blush warms my cheeks as I peel my shirt off, exposing my bare breasts. I can’t help but shoot a furtive glance at the half-open blinds. It’s unlikely anyone will spot me from the street below, but it’s possible, especially since it’s dark out already and the study light is blazing. My nipples tighten, the sense of vulnerability turning me on even more.

‘Not so defiant now, are you, princess?’ He drags me closer to the window, swivelling in the chair as he does so. ‘Are you worried someone will see what a desperate little slut you are?’

He positions me so I face the window, making it easy for him to smack my ass hard when I hesitate to continue undressing. ‘Clothes off,’ he orders. I pull my shorts down, and he laughs. ‘Of course you’re not wearing underwear.’ Another stinging smack lands. ‘You might be a naughty, disobedient little brat, but you are such a good whore.’

Praise and insult blur together—I don’t know which turns me on more, and I don’t care.

'Daddy…' I spin to face him and try to sink to my knees, shying away from the window. He slaps my breast in reprimand.

‘I didn’t say you could sit down,’ he scolds. ‘Don’t you dare move. Now, which game would you like to play?’

‘Um—’

‘Just kidding.’ He smirks at my indignant expression. ‘You don’t get to decide anything, you silly little girl. Daddy’s in charge, remember? Tonight we’ll play hide and seek.’

‘Can’t you just fuck me?’ I say, my voice whiny. ‘That’s what I meant when I said—‘

‘I don’t care what you meant.’ He strokes my breast lightly, then pinches my nipple in an abrupt, harsh movement. ‘You have two minutes to find a hiding place. I’m feeling quite mean tonight, little one. If you make things too easy for me, I’ll make sure you regret it.’ He stands up, towering over me, and cups my throat. His other hand reaches between my legs, lightly tracing my wetness. ‘And don’t you dare touch yourself. This,’ he slides two fingers inside of me easily, and a faint moan escapes my lips at the abrupt intrusion, ‘is mine.’

‘Yes, sir,’ I manage, rocking against his fingers, but he withdraws his hand.

He grabs my hair and forces his fingers into my mouth, making me suck them clean.

‘One…,’ he says, still holding my head down. His free hand reaches behind him, tapping the computer keyboard. Music starts blaring. ‘…two…three…four…’

He continues counting. His warning is fresh in my head—*don’t make things too easy for me—*and I try to move away, wanting as much time as possible to hide, but it’s futile. He’s too strong. He laughs at me as I struggle, holding me in place by a fistful of hair, and doesn’t let go until he reaches thirty.

‘Oh, no,’ he mocks, releasing me. ‘You’re running out of time, princess. Better hurry.’

A heady cocktail of fear and anticipation course through me, amplified a hundredfold by my nakedness and the dangerous gleam in his eyes. I bolt, slamming the door to the study shut. Even with the music disguising any sound I make, I try to move quietly down the hallway.

Another thirty seconds have passed by the time I reach the stairs. I creep down, ears straining to hear approaching footsteps, but all I hear is the muffled bass from the study. My breath catches in my throat as I enter the lounge room—I hadn’t left any lights on, and the entire ground floor is pitch dark. A hint of real fear makes goosebumps ripple across my naked skin. I know I’m not in any danger, but my body thinks I am.

My heart rate increases and a trickle of wetness slides down my inner thigh.

‘Ready or not, here I come,’ he calls, and I freeze. I’d moved into the kitchen on autopilot, my fear and excitement clouding my thoughts, and now I have nowhere to hide.

The faint creak of a door reaches me from upstairs.

Doubling back into the lounge room is too risky—damn our decision to go with minimalistic furnishings. I glance toward the basement nervously, then grit my teeth and slip inside, closing the door gently. My thoughts become even more fogged with fear as I tiptoe down the rickety stairs. The basement creeps me out at the best of times, and now, with no light, no clothes, and feeling like prey being stalked by a predator, it is a hundred times worse.

Moonlight barely illuminates the room, creeping in through windows high up on the walls. The spare lounge and piles of boxes are ominous shadows in my peripheral vision, and the washing machine and dryer gleam a ghostly white in the darkness. My nipples are painfully tight, the concrete floor ice-cold against my bare feet. I have never been so turned on in my life.

I crouch beside the dryer and move a laundry basket full of towels in front of me. If he turns the light on, he’ll see me with ease, but in the darkness I am relatively obscured.

I hear nothing but my own laboured breathing for the longest time. I can almost taste my pulse, and my whole body sings with electricity. It’s freezing down here. The hard floor hurts my knees and I shift, parting them slightly, trying to get more comfortable.

What will he do when he finds me? I’m sure there’s a rational, not-scary answer to that question, but here—in the dark, naked and vulnerable, all alone—there is no room for rationality. I’m entirely at his mercy.

His little toy.

It's terrifying. Thrilling. My hand drifts between my legs.

I swallow a low moan as my finger circles my clit. I remember vaguely I shouldn’t be touching myself, but I can’t help it. A desperate little slut, just like he'd said.

The basement door bursts open and I barely stop myself from screaming. I huddle down, wrapping my arms around my knees, trying to make myself as small as possible. Fear overtakes arousal completely and I shiver.

‘I didn’t think you’d have the guts to come down here,’ he says, his voice thunderous in the quiet, echoey room. ‘Too bad you can’t hide from me forever, little girl.’

My body burns with anticipation as his footsteps draw closer. Boxes scrape against the concrete to my right, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to quiet my shallow breaths. It's quiet for a moment, then more footsteps, more rustling as boxes are moved.

'Poor little baby, all cold and alone down here. Come out and play with Daddy.'

Threat laces his words and his voice is close—too close.

A shadow falls over me, blacking out the already-dark ceiling. ‘What have we got here?’

‘No!’ I squeak as he lunges down and grabs me.

His grip is merciless and I thrash against his hold. ‘You wanna put up a fight? You just try to resist, little girl. You’re mine to have whenever I want.’ He shoves me against the washing machine, my back to his chest, his hardness pressing against my bare ass. ‘So vulnerable,’ he coos. ‘So helpless.’ He strokes my cheek softly, lovingly, then slaps me hard.

He kicks my feet wide and yanks my arms behind my back, but pauses when he grabs my hand. ‘What is this?’ he asks dangerously, then leans down and licks my finger, still wet with my own arousal. He growls. ‘You couldn’t help yourself, could you?’ Both my wrists are clasped in one of his hands. ‘You desperate little slut. I told you that this,’ he shoves two fingers inside me and I slump against the top of the machine, moaning, ‘is mine.’

He removes his fingers and I struggle against his hold, but my legs are spread so wide I have no balance and his grip is unyielding. The sensation of having zero control heightens my panic and my arousal to a fever pitch, making my movements even more frenzied.

I barely notice what he’s doing behind me—until I hear the sound of his belt. I freeze.

‘No,’ I breathe. ‘No, no, no, no—’

‘That’s not the magic word,’ he says, less of an edge to his voice, a gentle reminder of our safeword.

‘Daddy,’ I whine, which is definitely not our safeword. ‘Please not the belt—please—’

His voice is steely once again. ‘You don’t get a choice, baby. If only you weren’t so naughty, this wouldn’t happen. You brought this upon yourself.’

The first blow lands. Heat explodes through my body, quickly followed by almost-unbearable pain. ‘Ow—ungh—please stop—please—’

Crack.

I thrash, trying to twist away from him, but it’s futile.

Crack.

Crack.

Just as I start to think I can’t take anymore, he stops. I slump against the machine, stars patterning the insides of my eyelids with each blink, my breathing ratted.

I’m too spent to resist as he wraps the belt around my wrists, replacing his hand. He reaches between my legs. ‘Look how wet you are,’ he coos. ‘You tried to play coy, tried to hide from me…but there’s no way to hide what a needy little whore you are.’ He plunges a finger inside me, his thumb reaching up to press against my clit. ‘Ask me to fuck you. I know you’re dying to.’

I shake my head, feebly trying to move away. He slaps my raw ass cheek with his free hand and I cry out, clenching around his fingers.

‘I said,’ he hisses, ‘ask me to fuck you.’

‘No,’ I whimper. 'Daddy, no…'

It takes another five brutal spanks for him to realise I’m not going to give in. I writhe beneath him, my hands straining against the belt hard enough that the leather bites into my skin.

‘Well,’ he says coldly, ‘you can pretend you don’t want my cock, but the fact that you're dripping wet tells me otherwise.’ He thrusts inside me abruptly. ‘Doesn’t that feel good, baby?’

‘No,’ I say, but my barely-concealed moan gives away the lie.

'Oh, really?' He doesn’t thrust again, unmoving with his cock inside me. I can’t help myself: I rock back against him, desperate for friction, and he laughs. His palm lands against my bruised ass and I grunt in pain. ‘Needy,’ slap, ‘little,’ slap, ‘whore.’ Slap. ‘Fucking yourself on me like a bitch in heat—you should be ashamed.’ SLAP.

The mix of pain and pleasure and fear and arousal is too much. I’m so close to coming, but his hands pin my hips, immobilising me. I can feel his hardness inside me, but he stays perfectly still and there’s not enough friction to push me over the edge.

‘You want to come? Beg.’

I try to resist, squirming underneath him, but his hold is relentless. He reaches down and clasps my throat, dragging me upright so my back is flush with his chest. His breath is hot against my neck.

He gently bites my neck. ‘I can feel how close you are, baby. You like being completely helpless, don't you? Having no control, completely at Daddy's mercy…’

His hips move slightly and I moan. ‘Daddy…’

‘Go on,’ he whispers. ‘Beg.’

I break.

‘Please.’ My voice is ragged, the words almost slurred together. ‘Please, please fuck me, please. I need to—I need to come—please—I need you to fuck me—’

‘I know you do, princess,’ he murmurs. ‘You’re just a helpless, needy little girl, aren’t you? You can pretend you don’t want it, you can fight as much as you like, but deep down you are always desperate for me to fuck you.’

He shoves me back down, keeping a hand on my throat, and fucks me.

My response is immediate. I come hard, crying out as shudders wrack me. I barely hear him coo, ‘Oh, you are such a good girl,’ as my whole body goes slack.

Stars block out my vision. Unintelligible whimpers echo around the room, and I realise vaguely that it's me making the desperate mewling sounds. My orgasm crashes through me for what feels like an eternity.

I slowly come back to earth. 'Good girl,' he whispers. 'Such a good girl for Daddy.' He withdraws and gently pulls me down to my knees. I’m still shaking from aftershocks as I take him into my mouth, tasting myself on his length. He thrusts, fucking my face, and groans quietly. His tempo increases and I feel him pulse seconds before he cums down my throat. ‘Good girl,’ he repeats, panting. ‘Fuck.’

Minutes or hours or centuries later, we end up lying on a towel, too spent to make our way upstairs just yet. Our sweat-drenched bodies press close, the coldness of the concrete seeping through the cotton and soothing our overheated skin.

'You okay, princess? Was that okay?'

'So good,' I mumble, words slurry. We'll debrief later, when my brain is functioning again. I manage to add, 'I think I like the basement now.’

He laughs and presses a sweet kiss to my temple.

My Sir/husband has me write out my fantasies for him. Here's my attempt at a proper CNC story, it's long, but I promise it's worth it!

“Thanks, guys, I can take it from here.”

I look over the mountain of boxes and furniture strewn about my new apartment with apprehension. Hiring a moving company was the best decision I could’ve made – a cross-country solo move is never an easy task.

“Uh, you mind if I use your bathroom, miss?”

“Sure, it’s just around the corner.” I lift my eyes from my never-ending to-do list to smile at the mover asking the question. “Thank you, by the way.” At first glance, he seems rather ordinary: tall, but not too tall, handsome, but not too handsome, in shape, but not a body builder. True anonymity. Must be nice, I think.

I shake my head and start an unpacking checklist. Life just makes so much more sense when it’s orderly. Being in control is all I’ve ever known, and sure, it’s tiring, but how else are things supposed to get done?

I barely register one of the movers waving goodbye, leaving me alone with a complete stranger in my new apartment. He steps out of the bathroom, looking at me expectantly.

I don’t even think I caught his name. John? Darren? Eric? Nothing seems right, and I search his face for some kind of clue.

His eyes are hazel, the kind that seem to be constantly shifting, never settling on a color. Determined to remember something about this stranger who helped me move, I peer more intently.

Sensing my curiosity, he meets my gaze and my breath catches in my chest. In a split second, his expression turns predatory, his eyes boring holes in mine, a slow smirk starting at the corner of his mouth. I want to look away, to bury myself in errands, to start a new to-do list, but I can’t. My stomach churns with a mixture of fear and arousal, and in spite of myself, I ask:

“Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Without breaking eye contact, he coolly answers:

“Just waiting to take what’s mine.”

A thousand scenarios rush through my head, each more terrifying than the next, and I take a quick step back, my eyes wide.

“Our pay, miss?”

Ah shit. How could I have forgotten? Blushing furiously, I apologize profusely, scrambling over boxes in search of my purse. I grab the cash and hand it over with my eyes downcast in embarrassment. How could I have been so stupid, thinking he’d have anything more than his job in mind.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me, please, keep the change.”

His eyes track my every movement, the small smirk turning into a malevolent grin as I trip backwards over a box marked “fragile”.

I watch in what seems to be slow motion, as the force of my fall breaks the box open. Nipple clamps, butt plugs, ropes, whips and dildos scatter across the floor and I tackle the rest with my body, determined to mitigate this absolute fucking disaster.

Tears well in my eyes: “Shit shit shit, I’m so sorry, this is so humiliating, just go!”

His eyes continue to bore into mine – when the fuck does this man even blink? I look away for a second, wishing for the earth to open up and swallow me whole.

“You dropped something, miss.”

I could hear the smile in his voice and I slowly open my eyes. I look up from my pile of shame to see him twirling a cane that must have rolled away.

“I’ve never met someone who truly liked pain.” He sounds contemplative, almost wistful, and I look up again. He gives the cane a few flicks through the air, the whipping sound instantly bringing my nipples to attention. Goddammit.

“Every time I meet a woman who says she wants me to hurt her, she chickens out after a bit of spanking. Your boyfriend is a lucky man.”

The cane looks completely natural, like an extension of his arm. His flicks through the air remind me of a master fencer, graceful, if a little disconcerting.

“No boyfriend,” I manage. My eyes are glued to the cane, my body betraying me in the most embarrassing way. I feel the heat ignite in my pussy, my skin buzzing with the need to be touched.

“Huh.” He gently puts the cane down. “Well, I’ll be going then. Good luck with…everything.”

I can’t bear to look him in the eyes again, so all I can manage is a tight-lipped “Mmhmm”, keeping my eyes closed until I hear the door slam shut.

Fuck.

It takes me ages to finally get up and collect my toys. Some I’ve had for years, the others were barely used. I pick up the cane the guy was playing with – a smooth, Delrin rod, nearly unbreakable and I shudder. Out of my entire collection, the cane is my favorite – there’s nothing that quiets my chattering mind like the sound of it whipping through the air, and there’s nothing that hurts quite as deliciously as when it makes contact with my skin.

I’ve loved the mixture of pain as pleasure for as long as I can remember. As a kid, I’d always volunteer to be the captive during games of cops and robbers, insisting that for the game to be “real”, I’d have to be tied up. As a young adult, I discovered clothespins – on my nipples, clit, thighs, all over my tits – the pinch of pain never failing to bring a rush of exquisite pleasure. I consumed BDSM-themed literature with voracity, fantasizing about acts so dark, I could hardly put words to them.

Maybe it’s a way to balance out my type-A, neurotic, overachieving “vanilla” self or maybe I’m just wired that way, but pain and pleasure seem to be fundamentally intertwined in my brain.

As my perversions grew, so did my collection. I pile the toys up on my only flat surface – a mattress on the floor, and I make a mental note to find a bigger container.

Still rattled, I take my sweaty clothes off and draw a bath. While the water warms up, I look at myself in the bathroom mirror. It could be worse, I suppose. I’ve never been very thin – but my one pride and joy is the hourglass figure I seem to retain no matter my weight fluctuations. I take my bra off with a sigh of relief, my heavy tits free of their confines. I flick my nipples absentmindedly, then pull my panties down.

Soaked. I should’ve known. The mover’s piercing gaze combined with absolute humiliation caused my clit to hum with pleasure and my cunt to gush all over my panties with complete disregard for anything else. Goddamn traitor.

I ease myself into the hot bath, groaning at the tightness in my muscles. I close my eyes, fully intending to have a nice, relaxing soak. My hands move up to my breasts, gently scratching, tugging at my fully erect nipples. Maybe an orgasm will help me relax, I think, and dip one hand down to my pussy.

I touch my clit gingerly and immediately remember the sound of the cane whipping through the air, the mover telling me he hasn’t found a woman who truly likes pain as I lay whimpering on my pile of sex toys. I push the thought aside and rub my clit in circular motions. I focus on the sensation of a powerful orgasm building inside of me, rubbing faster, taking pause to pinch my clit, rolling it between my thumb and pointer finger, eager to erase that humiliating experience from my mind. My free hand pinches my nipples hard, desperate for a twinge of pain, my breathing ragged, eyes closed, lips open, I feel myself inching closer and closer, when the memories come flooding back:

“Just waiting to take what’s mine.”

“You dropped something, miss.”

“Your boyfriend’s a lucky man.”

I feel myself hanging onto the edge of a cliff too terrifying to jump off from, and I immediately stop touching myself. I’ve had some dark fantasies, but this one takes the cake. Being taken by a stranger? Even I know that’s fucked up. I moan my frustration, my traitorous clit swollen and pulsing with pleasure.

I angrily crawl out of the tub and dry myself off. What a stupid, stupid day. I pull my hair up into a messy bun and get dressed. I haven’t unpacked most of my clothes, so these ratty old pajamas will have to do.

I plop myself onto the mattress, excited to finally order some dinner, when I hear the buzzer at my door.

Now what?

“Um, hello?” I fiddle with the buttons, trying to find the right one.

“Ms. Novak?”

“Yeah, that’s me. What is it?”

“You gotta sign for a package.”

The voice is distorted, no doubt due to the old speakers. I sigh, figuring my parents sent me another one of their famous care packages - probably a giant box, filled with things I don’t need.

“I’ll be right there.”

I put on my slippers and grumble my way downstairs.

“Hey, thanks for waiting…” I trail off. There’s no one there. I should’ve known it was a prank.

“Fucking kids,” I mutter and turn to go back upstairs.

“Don’t. Move.” I feel a strong hand grab my arms behind me, and what I can only describe as the tip of a knife pressing into my back. I open my mouth to scream when a male voice whispers:

“You don’t want to know what will happen if you make a sound, slut. Now let’s walk back to your place, nice and easy.”

My feet seem to obey the command on their own as my mind floods with primal fear. I feel the sharp tip of the knife pushing me forward, the painful grasp on my arms holding them back and I snap back to reality.

“Motherfucker,” I growl, twisting my entire body, frantically searching my brain for any remnants of that self-defense class my parents insisted I take before moving. I know we learned about getting out of an arm hold, but as I recall, my time was wisely spent swiping on Tinder, fantasizing about being taken by those strangers. If that’s not irony, I don’t know what is.

The man’s grip on my arms tightens, the tip of his knife now pressing painfully into my side. His hot breath tickles my ear, and I feel the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up:

“Keep fighting, little one. I’ll still have you begging for my cock before the night is out.”

I immediately freeze. I know that voice. I’ve heard that voice. I’ve heard it in my head while furiously masturbating in the tub, but it can’t be, can it?

Before I formulate another thought, the door to a ground floor apartment opens and an elderly woman peers out curiously:

“I thought I heard someone down here, did you two just move in?”

Any other day, I’d be making up excuses left and right to not have to talk to my neighbors, but in this moment, she might as well have been an actual angel. I draw my breath, fully intending to scream for help, when I feel the knife in my back slowly cut through my shirt. The sensation of smooth, cold metal instantly paralyzes me.

The man behind me laughs heartily without a worry in the world, and I can hear the bright smile in his voice:

“Mrs. Williams! We met this morning, remember? I do apologize for the commotion, but you know how newlyweds are…”

My cheeks flush with fury. How could he!

The old crone seems to let down her guard, flashing my attacker a disarming smile:

“Aw, honey, no need to blush, I remember those days… I’ll make sure to turn my hearing aid off tonight!”

She winks (who the fuck winks anymore?), waves goodbye and disappears into her apartment.

The man behind me leans forward and whispers lasciviously:

“Good girl. I might even let you cum tonight. Now, up the stairs, like we practiced.”

I don’t know how I make it up the stairs, but all I can think about is the cold metal pressed against my skin, the ache in my arms and the hot breath on my neck. My mind is reeling from the possibility that I know this voice, that the same arms holding me hostage just wielded my cane earlier that day.

Could it be? The fucked up thing is, a dark part of me hoped it was him.

With shaky hands, I open my apartment door, sealing my fate.

For a moment, all is still, then the reality of the situation sets in. I gather all of my remaining strength and bolt forward as hard as I can, hoping to break the grip on my arms.

He’s strong, too strong. The hand holding the knife flies up to my throat, squeezing just enough to warn me of his full strength. I gasp, throwing my body side to side with no effect. The arm behind me squeezes my elbows together, pushing my tits up, my nipples hardening through the fabric of my pajamas.

“Save your strength, slut, you’re going to need it.”

The voice stops me in my tracks, gasping weakly as the hand around my throat tightens. The man presses his hot tongue to my neck, licking languorously and I shudder.

“Fuck you,” I manage through gritted teeth, and the tongue on my neck disappears, only to be replaced by sharp teeth, biting slowly and surprisingly gently.

“Oh, you will.”

His teeth sink into the back of my neck, the pain making me groan deep in my belly. I feel like an animal, hunted and caged, about to be devoured by a powerful predator and whimper out loud. My nipples are about to poke through my shirt, and I feel a familiar heat in my pussy.

Through my haze of pain, shame and lust, I register being walked to my mattress, the sex toys displayed obscenely, a veritable cornucopia of the tools of my perversions. I wonder if he’ll use them, or if he’ll just bend me over and fuck me, then disappear into the night.

I feel my thighs stick together with my pussy juices, my new panties completely soaked. I can’t let him know that I crave this, I want this, that I’ve always wanted this.

He stops me right at the foot of the mattress, then whispers behind me:

“I’m going to blindfold you. You are at my mercy, to play with, to fuck, to hurt, if need be.”

His powerful hand is still wrapped tightly around my throat, and he squeezes it to really drive the point home. I make a weak, last-ditch effort to wiggle out of his grasp, when he pushes his knee into the back of my knees, bringing me down with incredible ease. He must’ve done this before, I think.

“Move a muscle, and you’ll find out just what my little knife can do.”

I feel the hand around my throat let go, and I gasp, filling my lungs with air. I feel the cold, sharp point of his knife scratch at the back of my neck, pausing to press down on the bite marks. Goosebumps cover my skin – there’s no way he doesn’t notice.

A sleep mask slips over my eyes, and I sigh with relief – those flimsy things barely stay on! I can bide my time until it moves enough for me to see him, and then it’s off to prison with this motherfucker. Lost in thought, I feel the grip on my arms loosen and something else cover my head, a pillowcase maybe? My vision is completely eliminated, and I feel one of my own leather collars snap closed around my neck, holding the pillowcase taut underneath it. I panic; any illusions I’ve been harboring about escape have dissipated completely.

I feel my body grabbed by strong hands, roughly rolling me over onto the mattress, facing up. The man sits on top of me, holding my arms down:

“I’m going to take my time using your slutty holes tonight. You can fight me, but it won’t help. You’re going to cum over and over again, until you can’t cum anymore. I’ll hurt you and you’ll beg for more. I’ll fuck you until you’re raw and you’ll thank me. Understood?”

My eyes widen under the blindfold, and I do my best to ignore my hungry cunt gushing endlessly between my legs. There’s no way he expects me to agree, right?!

*SLAP*

His hand slaps my left cheek with just enough force to rattle me. The stinging sensation quickly turns into a delicious warmth, and I chuckle to myself.

“Is that all you got?” I ask defiantly, my breathing ragged.

*SLAP*

The second slap forces the air out of my lungs. I grit my teeth and clear my head. I’ve happily taken more than this before.

*SLAP*

His hand connects with my cheek again, but this time he doesn’t let go. His fingers curl around my face, squeezing painfully.

“I asked you if you understand, whore.”

My mouth is covered by his hand and I moan in protest.

“Oh, I’m sorry, is there something in the way? Let me help.” He pushes my head up and down in comically grotesque way, making me nod with apparent enthusiasm.

“Aww. See? What a good little cumslut you’ll be. Now, don’t move. I need to cut a hole to fuck your mouth through.”

The face slapping and the humiliating treatment only fuel my arousal. A familiar tingle spreads throughout my body, my skin itchy, desperate to be touched, to be scratched, grabbed, spanked, to feel that exquisite mixture of pain and pleasure.

Still sitting on me, the man cuts a hole in the pillowcase, right where my mouth is. My lips are dry, my breath catching in my chest as I sense just how close the knife is to my mouth. My tongue darts to my lips, eager to taste the cold metal, but I force it back inside.

The hole is just big enough for my mouth, and I feel a rough finger stretch it further.

“Looks about right, I just want to make sure…”

Without warning, I feel two fingers plunge into my mouth, forcing it open. The fingers pull my lips away from my teeth, pull on my tongue, press on the inside of my cheeks, then suddenly disappear.

“Good teeth, but I knew that already.” When did he know that? There’s no way he’s not the mover from earlier today, and I’m not sure if I’m comforted or terrified by the fact.

“Your mouth will be mine, but so will your throat. Take a nice, deep breath for me.”

I barely have time to react when I feel those same two fingers slide to the back of my throat. I cough and shake my head furiously, when he grabs my head with his other hand and holds it steady.

“Tsk tsk tsk, let’s try this again. Say aaah.

I clamp my mouth shut. I know my gag reflex is sensitive, but I also know that gagging only makes my pussy juicier. He’ll find out, but I’ll be damned if I help him.

He holds my head tighter, pushing on my jaws to force my mouth open. His fingers slowly slide down my throat and I freeze, focusing all of my will into not gagging. Immediately, I feel my throat close. I sputter, frantically pushing his fingers out of my mouth. He wipes them on my lips and pats my cheek appreciatively.

“Not bad, but can you take a cock?”

I hear a rustling sound, the weight shifting on top of my body, and I feel the head of a massive cock press against my lips.

“Such beautiful lips, made only for sucking cock.”

He rubs the swollen head against my lips, then pinches my nose closed. I gasp involuntarily, and he shoves his cock in my mouth. I let my tongue go limp – I won’t give the bastard the satisfaction of actually licking his cock!

He’s impossibly thick and I struggle to breathe around him. Why isn’t he letting go of my nose? I opened my mouth, goddammit!

“If you want to breathe, you’ll do this properly. Show me how hungry you are. Show me what a good little fuck toy you’ll be for me.”

My mind swims with desire. All I want to do is to be fucked beyond comprehension, to be used and abused until I don’t remember my own name, but my pride won’t let me. Maybe if I do this, I can make him cum down my throat and he’ll leave.

I start to swirl my tongue around the head of his cock, pausing to suck and lick along the length. I relax my throat as much as I can, and I feel him start to pulse in my mouth. I feel him grab my head, fucking my mouth in long, slow strokes, pausing occasionally to allow me to swallow. His cool demeanor falls away, and I hear his first groan. Jackpot! If I can keep this up, he’ll be spent in no time.

I bob my head up and down, helping him deeper into my mouth. His cock springs out of my mouth with an audible pop, and I lick his balls, slowly swirling my tongue around them.

His voice is hoarse, no doubt holding back a massive orgasm:

“What a lovely tongue. Don’t you dare think I’m done using it yet.”

I barely hear him, entirely consumed by the need to make him cum. I slobber all over his balls, as I feel him start to play with his cock. Excellent, he’s got to be close now. I feel his weight shift once more and my tongue comes in contact with his ass.

The skin is surprisingly smooth and soft, and I lick away like my life depends on it. I feel his weight press on my tongue as he continues to play with his cock. I am struck by how degrading this taboo act feels and moan out loud.

“God, you’re such a fucking ass-eating slut. You love this, don’t you?” His breathing is shallow, and I redouble my efforts.

Without skipping a beat, I nod my head vigorously and moan again. I am an ass-eating, cock-sucking slut, I do want to exist purely to satisfy his every sadistic whim. I want to be broken in, until my every thought and desire boils down to being just an eager cum receptacle.

I hear his sharp intake of breath, then feel him withdraw. Fuck, I thought I had him.

I keep my tongue out, a standing invitation to use my mouth. Having most of my face covered seems to strip away my dignity, my intellectualism, even my sense of self.

Suddenly, I feel his hands on my tits, gently fluttering over my hard nipples.

“You don’t know what you’re playing with, little one. I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

I arch my back, mentally pleading to have my tits played with, when his tender caresses turn savage. He pinches my nipples hard, pulling on them through the fabric of my pajamas, and I whimper.

“I’ve been wondering what your tits look like, what kind of nipples I’ll be torturing… I imagine you’ve got some huge tits under there, nipples like peachy Hershey’s kisses. I guess there’s only one way to find out. Don’t move.”

The now-familiar sensation of cold steel shocks me back into reality and I shudder. I am at complete mercy to this absolute stranger, a hair’s breath away from real danger. I should be terrified and disgusted, looking for any way to escape, but the truth is: I want to be ravaged by this brutal intruder.

He starts to cut my clothes off and the cool air hitting my skin makes it explode in a sea of goosebumps. I do my best to slow my breathing as the knife continues to cut more and more away. The man grabs one nipple, pulling it taut towards the ceiling, while he cuts the shirt away from my tits. It feels somehow clinical, impersonal even, like opening a stubborn package. I fucking love it. The scraping of the knife, the occasional poke, the need to stay still, it all begins to scramble my brain for good, and I manage a weak:

“Please.”

The man pauses and presses the tip of his knife against my nipple, the sharp pain making my eyes water.

“Please what? Unless the next words out of your mouth are “please use my cum-hungry body until you’re spent, Sir,” I have no use for your whining.”

My tits now entirely free, he slaps one, then the other, musing to himself: “Nice jiggle, wish you could see it…”

He slaps my tits over and over, steadily, methodically, as the stinging pain dissolves into unbearable pleasure. I bite my lip, struggling to keep quiet, when I suddenly feel a hot tongue lash at a nipple. I moan deeply in spite of my myself, my pussy pulsing with pleasure, my clit engorged and desperate for stimulation. He licks one nipple, then the other, and just as I can no longer control my moaning, he bites down. I scream and thrash, the pain and the pleasure intertwining in a dance so dangerous it threatens to annihilate my world. He holds me down expertly, and I fear I’ll cum right there, humiliating myself completely.

He chuckles: “I can smell your wet cunt from here, and I wasn’t even trying to make you cum.”

I stifle a sob, partly from frustration and partly from my increasingly desperate need to cum until I pass out.

He continues to cut away my clothes, my shirt now in tatters, my pants ripped all the way up to my waist. He tears the remaining scraps off me and presses his knife against my wet panties. At this point, I whimper continuously, spreading my legs without even meaning to. He pokes little holes all over my panties, scraping at my skin. I stay dutifully still, aware of the fact that with one sudden jolt I can be seriously hurt.

He grabs my pussy with his entire hand, squeezing hard.

“Now that’s the wettest cunt I’ve ever seen. Almost a pity I won’t be cumming in it.”

He mashes my pussy in his hand and rips off the last shreds of my panties. The cold air hitting my wetness makes me shiver, and the promise of having my ass fucked pushes me so close to the edge I want to scream.

Without warning, he slaps my hungry cunt, sending flecks of my juices flying through the air. I grit my teeth and groan, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of cumming just yet. I’ve got this, I think.

He grabs my legs and forces them open as wide as they’ll go, my pussy on obscene display. I can feel my juices glistening on my thighs, dripping down my crack into my ass. He pauses momentarily and softly trails his fingers up and down my slit:

“This is going to hurt.”

He slaps my cunt hard, again and again. I wail in protest, but fail to wiggle away from his strong grasp. He continues to rain powerful, relentless blows on my tender pussy, and as I yelp and moan, he lectures:

“I will allow you to cum only after you accept your place. Repeat after me: I’m a filthy slut.”

I muster the last bit of willpower I have, and hiss:

“No, damn you, fuck, no!”

His assault on my swollen cunt is unyielding, and I don’t think I can hold on any longer.

“I’m just telling you the truth. You’re a filthy slut whose only purpose is to be fucked, used and abused in any way I see fit.”

The last slap sends me over the edge and I lose all decorum, wailing:

“Yes, Sir, I’m just a filthy slut, please use me, hurt me, fuck me, I’m just a set of holes to destroy, please please pleeeeeeeease!”

He grabs my cunt roughly, rubbing his hand quickly back and forth and my world is undone. My eyes roll back in my head, the pleasure so overwhelming that my orgasm comes in waves, each more powerful than the next. I lose myself entirely, I feel my cunt squirt all over his hand, then an indescribable sense of peace comes over me. All I want to do is please this stranger, this cruel, incredible stranger who broke me.

I slowly drift back into my body, sensing a strong hand gripping my hair through the pillowcase, and another hand turning me over onto my stomach. I have no more fight in me: my last orgasm was more intense than anything I’ve experience in my entire life. Whoever this man is (and I’m pretty sure I know), he’s given me more pleasure in the last hour than I’ve felt in entire relationships.

“Good girl. Seems you’ve been holding onto that orgasm for ages, huh?”

I groan out a soft: “Mmhmm,” still basking in the afterglow, when I hear a whoosh through the air, followed by the unmistakable sting of my cane on my ass cheeks. Fuck, I thought I put it away!

The sting turns into a tingling warmth, and I lean into the sensation, wiggling my hips.

“Huh. You really do like it when I hurt you, my little pain slut.”

I fucking knew it! It’s the mover from earlier today, and the thought that he knows me is so humiliating, that I simultaneously moan and do my best to wriggle away for the last time. I’m so turned on, I ache. A strong hand holds me down, pressing my face into the mattress, and I involuntarily stick my ass up, hungry for more.

“I need to make sure you remember me for a while.”

His voice is thoughtful, and do I detect a note of longing in there? Before I can try and overanalyze everything, as is my specialty, my ass explodes into white-hot pain as he rains the cane strokes upon me. He is methodical, calculated, and somehow never hits the same spot twice. I break into a sweat, my breathing quickening, and I struggle to process the speed with which he doles out my punishment. The pain turns into pleasure which turns into pain which turns into pleasure and I feel the familiar heat of another orgasm build in my pussy.

“Please, I need to cum, please,” I beg.

“Please what, slut?”

He barely stops to speak. My head is swimming with the endorphins flooding my system. I’m about to float away into subspace, when I manage:

“Please, Sir, please, this filthy fucking whore needs to cum, I beg you, Sir.”

As quickly as the punishment began, it stops. The hand pressing my head into the mattress lets go, and I sob in frustration.

“Hold your ass cheeks open for me.”

I obey without question. The thought that this stranger is about to take me in this way, with me wantonly exposing my puckered butthole, makes my hands shake with desire. I grab my ass and pull my cheeks apart. The rush of cold air on my ass makes me shiver, the thought of just being a cum receptable for his cock makes my cunt pulse, constantly keeping me on the edge of an orgasm.

I feel him squirt lube onto my ass, rubbing it into my hole. The lube makes a wet, squishing sound, and I am struck by the depravity of holding my own ass open for this intruder. I mentally applaud myself for using butt plugs while I masturbate daily, otherwise I’d be in for a world of hurt – I remember how massive his cock was when it was lodged down my throat.

I feel the head of his cock press against my well-lubed ass and I do my best to relax. He pushes so slowly, I can feel every millimeter of my anal muscles stretch impossibly. I grip my cheeks in my hands, spreading myself even wider, willing his cock inside of my slutty ass.

He pauses, his breathing a little less even than before:

“Tell me, what are you? If I like the answer, I’ll keep going.”

My fingertips are squeezing my cheeks so hard, they must be turning white. I can’t hold on, any sense of decorum, of ego, even shame goes out the window, as I moan:

“This anal slut only exists for your pleasure, Sir. Please.” I push my ass up over and over, desperate to impale my hungry hole onto more cock, desperate to please, to be used and defiled and…

He shoves the entire length of his cock deep into my ass, filling me up more than I’ve ever been filled up more. He uses his entire body to ram my ass, my cheeks jiggling with every thrust, his balls slapping my sopping cunt with obscene wet sounds.

An earth-shattering orgasm is about to hit me like a train, I can’t stop it. He must sense it, because he growls:

“Cum for me. Milk my cock with your ass, you fucking slut.” He punctuates his point with powerful thrusts that push me over the edge and my world is undone.

I cum while he fucks my tender ass, I cum while he ramps up the intensity, I cum while he roars and unloads ropes and ropes of hot, sticky cum into my ass, I keep cumming as he withdraws. I don’t know how long my orgasm is, but I feel my entire body shake with ecstasy for what feels like hours.

Through the haze of incredible bliss, right on the verge of sleep, I manage to ask:

“Why?”

He walks over to me. Just before sleep overtakes me, I feel him take my hand and he kisses it tenderly.

“I just needed to take what’s mine.”

Ch1

Four days later, Julia was back to ground zero with her finances. She’d paid off her last overdue tuition payment and spent the rest on clothes and makeup. In her opinion, she deserved to spend it—she’d been through so much recently, after all.

She’d had an amazing orgasm the evening after her screening, better than any orgasm she’d had in her life. Her bank account pinged only fifteen minutes later. She blushed, realizing that she didn’t even need to tell them that she came. They just knew. She wondered how much they knew, and how closely they were monitoring her body. She dismissed her concerns as simply anxiety. This was a professional study and she was working with scientists. They had better things to do than stare at a monitor all day and observe her arousal. And even if that was what they were doing, she was probably one of their many subjects. They weren’t just watching her. That would be silly.

Still, she should probably get a copy of whatever she signed the afternoon she met with her professor. It probably contained all the answers to her questions. She didn't want them to think that she was stupid and didn't read the contract before signing it, although the last part was true.

She got to the science building quickly, but to Julia’s dismay, the door to her professor’s office was shut. She saw no light peeking out from underneath to indicate her presence. She sighed, disappointed by her poor luck, and made her way down the hall, past the offices of the rest of the sciences faculty.

A few doors down, a sloppy and disheveled looking professor sat in his office with a book in hand, waiting for students to drop by for office hours. His door was ajar as he slouched at his desk chair, his feet kicked up on his desk. The placard next to his door read “Dr. Adam Badir, Ph.D.” Talking to some strange man made Julia feel nervous, but she pulled herself together.

“Um, excuse me,” Julia said curtly, voice shallow and dry. “Do you know when Dr. Hampton will be back?”

The man looked up at her, placing his reading at his desk. Julia could recognize that he was attractive for an older man, with heavy eyebrows and healthy looking salt-and-pepper hair. She had no interest in older men, but sometimes she could see the appeal. Their looks never made up for the fact that they always thought they were better than her. Especially smarter than her.

“I don’t believe she’ll be in today,” he casually replied. He adjusted his junk in his pants, making Julia cringe. Men have no tact.

“Is there something I can help you with?” he asked.

“Do you know anything about that study from Elite Enterprises that she’s been advertising?" Julia asked. She wasn’t super comfortable starting up a conversation with a slobbish middle aged man, but she was desperate for answers.

Eager to see a student interested in the study, the professor perked up. “Oh, absolutely. I’m Dr. Badir, and I’m on the board for Elite Enterprises. Please come in!”

Julia shuffled in his office, stepping around the piles of books on the ground, and sat across from him at his desk.

“So I got screened for the study last night, and I was just wondering if I could have a copy of my contract. Or maybe an informational pamphlet about the study?” She couldn’t expect this guy to have her contract, but he might know something that could help her.

He furrowed his brow in concern. “Not trying to get out of it already, are you?”

“Definitely not,” she clarified. “I still need the money. I just want to know more about what you’re testing. For my own knowledge.”

Dr. Badir ignored her questions, redirecting the conversation to suit his own interests.

“So you’ve been implanted with the device? Have you orgasmed yet?” he asked.

Julia shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t want to discuss her self-pleasure habits with some adjunct from the university. She didn’t want him imagining her with her legs spread, fingering herself to orgasm. He might be on the board, but she still deserved some privacy— HIPAA or something.

“Um, yes, I did,” she replied, trying to keep the anxiety out of her voice. “I was told to.” She wanted to keep this conversation as unerotic as she could. He didn’t need details.

Thankfully, he seemed to accept that response. He reached out, placing his hand on hers, as if reassuring her. It made her skin crawl. She wanted to pull away, but she didn’t have the confidence to tell him off. Her laundry list of complaints for Dr. Hampton was growing by the minute. That woman had to do something about her colleagues.

Only after making her feel harassed, he seemed willing to answer her questions.

“We’re testing the effect arousal has on the female brain— their personality, morals, and boundaries,” he explained. “Some people think that all women are sluts deep down and even think that women can be trained to enjoy rape. We’re trying to prove that women have dignity, even when they’re horny. ”

Julia was horrified. That was vile. How could anyone think that? Even more so, how could anyone take that claim seriously enough to try to disprove it?

“As we move forward, we’ll be working to achieve a state of constant arousal in your body and tracking its impact on your psyche.” Dr. Badir explained as he smiled at her inconspicuously. “We hypothesize that you’ll still retain your values and boundaries, even when aroused."

Julia was taken aback. Constant arousal? She didn’t want to experience that. She rarely even masturbated. She didn't want this. She didn't want to be the guinea pig to prove some misogynistic myth wrong by letting scientists toy with her body. But at the same time, she couldn’t withdraw from the study. She needed the money. She had another tuition payment coming up in a month, and she wanted to have spending money until then.

"You’ll be asked to continue masturbating for the remainder of the study. Give it a go tonight to get a jumpstart on your next paycheck.” Julia grimaced at his language, the conversation making her feel violated. She couldn’t imagine touching herself right now.

He opened his drawer, pulled out a flimsy black bag and handed it to her. It looked like something you’d walk out of a sketchy sex store holding. She didn’t want to walk across campus carrying it. Even worse, she practically jumped when she looked inside. It contained a large flesh-toned hyper-realistic dildo and a VR headset. She wanted to gag at the thought of that dildo going inside her. She was not that kind of girl. Her fingers did the job.

“These will help you feel more immersed. Material is pre-loaded on the headset for your enjoyment. Try not to get mugged by some guy on the way home," he said, winking at her. "This would be his lucky day, wouldn't it?"

She paused. What did that mean? Lucky because it's valuable, or lucky because of her? She felt nauseous from the implication.

She gingerly took the bag from him, careful not to touch him. He was making her uncomfortable, and she wanted out ASAP.

She wasn’t going to do any of that. In fact, she would throw this stuff out on her way home. Or maybe she’d stash it in her closet until she was sure she didn’t need it for the study. She could always return it to Dr. Hampton if it was expensive, and not just a disgusting gift from a creep.

She’d never watched pornography, and she wasn’t going to start now. As a feminist, she was morally opposed to all forms of pornography. Porn was just a tool of the patriarchy to subjugate women. It taught men that women liked to be abused and degraded, which they didn’t. She’d never met a self-respecting woman who was into that. She didn’t need a disgusting dildo either. She’d gotten in fights with other feminists for being ‘sex negative,’ but Julia thought that was ridiculous. She wasn’t sex negative, she just wasn’t a whore. Too many women these days were whores. It brought down feminism as a whole.

Before she left, Dr. Badir rifled through some files before pulling out a slim packet. “Here is the contract you signed, but don’t expect to understand it all. It can be very difficult for women to wrap their heads around the legalese.”

Julia scoffed. She knew she was smart enough to handle “legalese.” Her dad was a lawyer, after all. Maybe Dr. Badir wasn't used to dealing with smart women, but she was capable of handling any contract.

“I will ask Dr. Hampton to email you the next steps. Since we’re speaking early, don’t feel rushed to complete it before next week, but the sooner you complete it, the sooner you’ll get your next payment.”

After her humiliation on the exam table, Julia was looking forward to not revisiting the study for another few days, but she also couldn’t look past the opportunity to get paid earlier. She’d gone out with her friends the previous night and seen the most adorable pair of heels. She’d wanted to scream once she realized she was out of money. She couldn’t even use credit after she maxed out her cards last month. She needed extra cash.

Julia forced herself to thank Dr. Badir, feigning politeness, and headed to her dorm room. She had mixed feelings about starting early, but she would push through those uncomfortable feelings. Those shoes would be hers before she knew it.

— —

After three hours of impatient fuming, pacing around her small dorm room, she finally received the message from Dr. Hampton.

“Good evening Julia,I hear you are getting a head start on the next steps! Great work!

Please use the VR headset to view the selected pornography while you use the dildo internally for at least one hour twice daily until your next appointment. I will reach out to schedule your next appointment seven days (or fourteen sessions) after you begin. If you miss a session, you will need to start over, so please take care to be responsible with your time. You will not be compensated for more than seven days.

Regards,

Dr. Hampton”

Reading the letter, Julia groaned. She didn’t even know where to start. There was so much wrong. Masturbate twice a day? For seven days? And she wouldn’t get paid until after that? Plus, she didn't want to use the dildo. It was gross.

Julia began to type.

“Hi Dr. Hampton,

I don’t know how I am supposed to masturbate that much. I will definitely not be “in the mood” that often. Also, do I need to use the dildo? I can use my fingers like the other night.

Please let me know what to do!

Thanks,

Julia”

Julia didn’t need to wait very long for a reply. Her laptop pinged almost immediately. Dr. Hampton only responded “I think you will find it easier than expected once you start. Use the dildo.”

Julia groaned with displeasure. She didn't want to fuck herself with a disgusting dildo. It was too realistic and it made her uncomfortable to even look at. If she had to use a dildo, why couldn't it be sparkly and pink? Why did it need to look like a real dick?

She tried to pull herself together. She needed the money, even if she hated it, but she felt like she was hyping herself up to rape herself.

At least, even if it took her seven days to get paid, seven days from now was better than seven days from when her next appointment was supposed to be. She still had a head start. She just needed to push herself through.

She wasn’t thrilled about using the headset, either. She felt like only dorks and desperates would use VR to watch porn, but she didn’t want to take the risk of not using it in case they were tracking the headset usage, so she put it on anyway. Nothing would be worse than her masturbating and not getting credit for it. She hated how this whole thing was out of her control. It was her pussy, it should be her choice.

After she'd put the headset on, her vision was black until an image appeared. She wanted to scream when she opened her eyes and was accosted with a large cock thrusting into a wet pussy. It was so vulgar. Who did they think she was? Did they really think she could get off to this? Despite her disgust, she was transfixed on the view. The girl's cunt drooled as her cunt lips stretched crudely around the cock that pummeled her hole. For someone who had never watched porn, it was the most explicit video she’d ever seen. The girl moaned erotically, occasionally whining pathetically at the man, begging him to stop. It was awful. Was she really being forced to watch a video of a girl being raped? If she was being raped, why was she so wet? Julia wanted to rip the headset off, but she knew she couldn't, not if she wanted any money. She'd gotten this far. Maybe she could just close her eyes and try to block out the sound.

Her hands snaked down to her pussy and she found herself shockingly wet. Why was she so wet? It couldn't be from the porn—she wasn't into this stuff, but she was never this wet randomly. It must just be a coincidence. A really fucked up coincidence.

She reached to her bedside table and found the rubber cock. She almost gagged as she grabbed it, feeling the plastic veins under her fingers. The smooth, defined cockhead. It felt so real. She'd only felt real one before, and it wasn't nearly as big or horrifying as this one.

Trying to stay strong, she situated the dildo in between her legs as the visual of a cunt being forcefucked dominated her vision. Holding the base of the dildo, she moved her hands upwards, filling up her pussy as she pressed it inside her. She let out a moan. It felt so good. Her body really wanted it, even if she didn't.

She started fucking herself slowly, trying to let her body adjust to the intrusion. It wasn’t even a massive dildo, but it was the biggest thing she’d had inside her. It felt so real, which made her feel so violated. To her dismay, the feelings of violation only intensified her arousal. She moaned at each thrust as her cunt molded around the cock. Julia sped up her thrusts, allowing herself to fully experience the pleasure of fucking herself with the dildo. At least she was alone this time, even if her professors knew what she was doing. She could just focus on her pussy and ignore the fact that she was being observed.

The longer she fucked herself, the more desperate she grew for an orgasm,pounding her pussy like she was teaching herself a lesson. The smooth round head of the dildo hit her g-spot perfectly with each thrust, making her legs shake with pleasure.

As if waiting for Julia's arousal to peak, the video changed suddenly. Now, a girl’s head hung off the side of a bed. Black mascara dripped down her face as if shed been crying. Then, a thick cock came into the frame and quickly sunk down the girls throat, his balls bouncing against her nose as he fucked her throat.

Julia wanted to scream again. This was so vile. She didn't even do blowjobs. She'd never let a man put his cock in her mouth and she never would. She couldn't imagine a more degrading sex act. They gave women no pleasure and only served to boost the male ego. Julia wanted to throw the headset across the room, but she was probably halfway done with her session. She could get it over with, cum, and then complain about it later.

She tried to close her eyes and block out the virtual balls swinging in her face, but her curiosity kept getting the better of her. She couldn't keep them shut. Slobber dripped from the porn slut's mouth and nose as her throat was used like a pussy. Despite the girl’s violation, Julia’s traitorous pussy stayed aroused. Her pussy squeezed around the dildo as if it was a real cock.

Julia felt an orgasm coming on, and she sped up her thrusting. Highly aroused, she was fucking her cunt harder than the man in the video was using the slut's throat. She needed to cum more than anything.

Julia circled her clit as she fucked herself roughly, waiting for an orgasm that just wouldn't go over the edge. She was moaning like the porn slut now, desperately playing with her clit in an effort to get to her orgasm. Why wasn't it working? She'd never been so aroused in her life, but the orgasm just wasn't happening.

Well past her required hour now, she suctioned the dildo to her floor and started bouncing on it, hoping a change in angle would be what she needed to cum. Julia bounced on her rubber cock, her titties bouncing around pathetically in rhythm with her humping. The video had changed again, and now she was watching another girl get raped by three cocks. There was no denying it was rape in this video. The slut kicked and screamed, fighting to escape as cocks flew at her in every direction. Drowning in arousal, Julia fucked herself in time with the men in the video. She was so horny that every thrust she didn't cum, she wanted to cry. She needed it so bad. With no way to escape the video, she kept imagining what it would be like to be the one with three cocks forced into her. Her pussy wouldn’t respond like the actress. She had self respect. She wondered if she was witnessing an actual rape, or if the star was just a slut who liked to play pretend. She couldn’t decide which would be worse.

When the slut in the video came, Julia felt her own cunt clench and spasm around the dildo as if an orgasm was coming, but nothing came. Julia's moans sounded more like screams of frustration as she attempted to fruitlessly rape an orgasm out of her own cunt. Why did some dumb porn slut get to cum from rape, but she couldn't even cum alone her bedroom?

Shaking from fatigue, she finally gained the conviction to pull the dildo from her cunt. It slid out of her like butter and tumbled onto the ground, her creamy cunt juices trailing behind it. She'd been fucking herself for hours. Her hole felt battered. She needed to stop or was going to drive herself insane. Her orgasm was never going to come. This is what her professor had meant. This is what they wanted. They wanted her like this. She was being paid good money to be like this.

Her cunt pulsed, angry at its sudden lack of attention after hours of pounding. She needed to turn herself off. How could she turn herself off?

Her eyes flicked to her desk. She had a brand new box of binder clips. She winced at her idea. She didn’t want to hurt herself, but she needed to stop her cunt from pulsing. Unsteady, she stood up, and hobbled over to her desk. She closed her eyes as she picked up one of the cute, multicolor binder clips meant to organize her papers, and released one on her clit.

She screamed. It hurt like hell. Tears brimmed in her eyes as the nerves in her pussy switched from pleasure to pain. Her pussy was still pounding in arousal, but she could at least focus on the pain instead. Her bottom lip trembled, desperate to stop the pain but unwilling to risk taking it off and staying horny.

She moved like a zombie as she picked up two more. She didn’t want to do this, but her body needed to learn. She shuddered, clipping her hard nipples with the clamps. She could only focus on the pain in her cunt and nipples, but that was better than only focusing on the pleasure. At least the pain wasn’t driving her crazy. She could stop the pain if she wanted to.

She layed back on her floor with her legs spread, allowing herself to feel the pain. It felt good. She needed it to distract from the arousal threatening to drive her insane. After a few minutes, she unclamped her nipples and clit, and Julia shuddered in pain as the blood rushed back to her sensitive nubs. She still felt sweaty and unstable, but at least she wasn’t nearly as horny as she’d been before. Her experiment had worked. She hoped she didn’t need to do that again. She couldn’t do that to herself twice a day—either the masturbation or the pain. She would break. She desperately needed to talk to Dr. Hampton and figure something out. She wasn’t built for this.

Ch3

Her collar had been clipped to the far end of Daddy’s desk, keeping her bent over the harsh, cold surface, and preventing her from rising any more than a few inches. Her hands were cuffed behind her back, her ankles cuffed in a way that kept her spread for Daddy. She couldn’t see through the black silk he had tied over her eyes, nor could she make any noise beyond muffled moans through her ball gag.

Daddy had made his Kitten his little desk toy.

She could hear him, typing away at the computer on the other side of his desk to her left somewhere. She knew he was sitting nearby, within easy reach of her at all times. She was dripping, her arousal running from her soaked pussy down her thighs. Kitten was sure she was leaving a puddle on the floor in front of Daddy’s desk.

The plug in her ass and the rabbit in her pussy only made matters worse.

The typing stopped for a moment. And a heartbeat later, the toys daddy had stuffed his desk toy with began to slowly vibrate. Daddy had turned the toys on again. She stifled a moan, her still-sore ass reminding her what would happen if she got too loud. Desk toys don’t make noise, after all. She didn’t need to add being spanked like a whore to her list of ever-growing sensations; she knew she couldn’t cum yet, not until Daddy’s mouth was on her pussy.

But fuck if the plug and rabbit, slowly working her clit, pussy, and ass in tandem, didn’t feel good.

The typing resumed, and her pussy poured from the stimulation of the toys, combined with his seeming dismissal of her existence. Occasionally, his hand would meet her thigh, gently caressing her in time with the toys. Even more rare, he would plant kisses on her ass, sparking pain from her previous spankings, but also inviting a gentle pleasure. Kitten couldn’t help but whimper into her gag, the toys in combination with his ignoring of her steadily pushing her towards delicious release.

And then the vibrations suddenly stopped, forcing her to stifle a dissatisfied whimper. She hadn’t even noticed Daddy had stopped typing. It was impossible to ignore, however, the sound of Daddy standing up from his chair, and the sudden sensation of the rabbit being gently pulled from her soaking wet pussy. With how wet she was, it was easy to pull it out; but she had to stifle a moan as he did so.

She heard the sound of the toy being placed on Daddy’s desk, before his hands were on her ass, gently spreading her so he could see her glistening folds. “You’re soaked,” he purred. “Does this little slut like being Daddy’s desk toy?”

All Kitten could do was moan in agreement. Yes, yes Daddy. This little slut wants nothing more than to be Daddy’s toy. She was glad she was gagged; otherwise, she’d definitely be begging for Daddy to fuck her.

There was movement behind her, though his hands never left her ass. Heartbeats passed, and she could practically feel him drinking in how wet she was, how she trembled for him. It made her feel so exposed, so vulnerable. It made her want him even more.

And then his mouth was against her pussy, her clit, lapping up her arousal with broad, gentle strokes of his tongue. She couldn’t stop herself from moaning this time, not even as Daddy’s hand came down sharply against her ass, making her yelp.

As he fucked her with his tongue, the plug in her ass began to vibrate again, sharper and faster this time. Daddy was pushing her to cum. And as he took her clit between his lips, gently suckling her as his tongue flicked sharply against her clit, she did.

Kitten bucked and thrashed against her bonds as overwhelming pleasure overloaded every one of her senses. Her clit was on fire as Daddy continued to lick at her, forcibly extending her orgasm. She moaned into the gag, her muffled cries and “thank you Daddy oh god thank you”s made completely unintelligible.

It took her a few moments to settle, her breath coming her ragged pants, her clit aching in the most delightful way. Daddy’s mouth left her, and she readied herself for him to uncuff her from his desk.

Only for the sticky, still-wet rabbit to be shoved straight back into her pussy. She moaned as it began to vibrate, the overstimulation driving her back up to climax. “Good fucktoy,” Daddy praised, giving her ass a comforting pat. “Hold that for me. I’ll be right back. Don’t even think about cumming.”

Fuck. With her bound the way she was, and the rabbit and plug still vibrating away, Daddy had given his Kitten a nearly impossible task, and he knew it. But she prided herself on being a good girl, on being Daddy’s obedient slut. She fought against the pleasure rising within her with every ounce of strength she had.

She wasn’t sure how long had passed before she heard Daddy return, and felt him standing behind her. She was shaking from the effort of not cumming all over herself, of trying to please Daddy. His hand was back on her body, idling stroking her thighs as he watched her struggle.

“You’re such a good fucktoy,” he praised. “The perfect little desk toy for Daddy.” He paused, dragging it on. She writhed against her cuffs, desperately trying not to finish before Daddy allowed her too. “Since you’ve been such a good toy… cum for me.”

Her second orgasm ripped through her, this time at the behest of the rabbit in her pussy, her walls clenching around it as though it were a cock. And fuck it felt amazing. But part of her wished it was Daddy’s cock she was cumming around, not a toy.

As her moans and thrashing died down, Daddy stopped the vibrations once more, letting her cool off. “There’s my good girl,” he purred. “Does my little desk toy want Daddy’s cock in her?” She nodded eagerly. Fuck, yes, please Daddy. Please fuck my pussy with your cock. “Good fucktoy. You want Daddy’s cock? You’ll get it.”

His hand drifted downward, and Kitten readied herself for the rabbit to be removed again. Only for him to stop short, his hand hovering over the plug. She froze as Daddy gripped its base before gently removing it, her eyes widening as she realized what Daddy had in mind for her.

She felt his cock, hot and hard, press against her as he leaned over her prone body. His hands traveled up her back, and over each arm, until he had gently taken his hands in hers, pressing her deeper into the desk. His mouth was by her ear, and she could practically feel his smile as he gently whispered. “My little desk toy is gonna take it in the ass.”

Kitten moaned her approval, her pussy continuing to pour and drip her arousal from around the rabbit. One of Daddy’s hands left hers, and she felt him slowly stroke his cock up and down her ass before poising it directly at her entrance. Another heartbeat later, the rabbit began to vibrate again.

Without any preamble, Daddy thrust his cock into his Kitten’s ass, slowly and gently fucking her, his hands pinning her down onto the desk. The pressure of his cock in her ass combined with the pressure of the rabbit in her pussy. She was only vaguely aware of the fact she was drooling out the sides of her gag.

She couldn’t think, couldn’t even speak, as Daddy took his time fucking her most intimate hole. Her eyes were rolled upwards from behind the blindfold, her saliva dripping downward and forming a puddle beneath her.

“Who does this desk toy belong to?” Daddy grunted into her ear, his thrusts picking up speed.

“You, Daddy,” she tried to speak through the gag, but all that came out was a garbled moan.

“And this ass?”

”You, Daddy.”

“Good fucktoy.” And then he was cumming in her, filling her ass with his seed. It was all Kitten needed to push her over the edge, her body convulsing around his cock, milking him for every last drop, until they were both exhausted and empty.

Kitten trembled uncontrollably. Daddy had just made her his little desk toy, and she had loved it. His body was laid on top of hers, his breathing steadily coming under control. He planted a kiss on her shoulder, slowly undoing her bonds as he gently pulled out of her.

When she was free, she practically collapsed into him, both of them falling into his big office chair. He cradled her against him, holding her still-shaking form as she came down from the high of her orgasms.

She looked up at him, her eyes full of innocence. “Did I do good, Daddy?”

He smiled, kissing her forehead. “You’re the best desk toy I could ever ask for.”

He shut the door, exhausted and drained. Monday’s were his toughest day work wise, and he never quite had the energy or patience for much after work. 

He glanced back at his phone, seeing a text from his girlfriend.

“Surprise waiting for you at home…enjoy!”

He didn’t know what it was, but he’d developed a habit of locking himself in the bathroom for an hour after he got home on Mondays to watch some porn and rub one out. He didn’t have the energy for emotions and sex, just some hot videos and a quick jack off. 

He walked through the apartment, not sure where his girlfriend was and what the surprise might hold. Suddenly, he stopped in the bedroom doorway, shocked at what he saw. 

On the bed was his girlfriend…but not like he’d ever seen before. 

She was naked on her back with her legs folded back above her head, and she was blindfolded and gagged. Her pussy was elevated beautifully and fully exposed, and resting on her thighs was his laptop, open and with one of his favorite porn sites already pulled up. 

He slowly entered, knowing she could hear him but couldn’t see him. He looked her up and down, amazed at what he was seeing. 

Reaching down, he found a note on his keyboard.

I know you’ve been stressed babe…

Sex is a lot sometimes, 

so just relax and watch some porn, 

have a quick fuck, 

and enjoy!

He couldn’t believe the note as he slowly kicked off his shoes, admiring the lengths she’d gone to in order to ensure it was fully about him. 

Quickly he stripped down, climbing onto the bed, admiring his naked girlfriend, proudly offering herself to him as a simple stress relief.

He knew she couldn’t see him with the blindfold, which certainly made it less awkward. 

She waited as she could feel his body next to hers, but unsure of what was to come as he began to type and click on the laptop resting on her. 

He found a video and began playing it. She could hear the people on the video kissing and fondling each other. She couldn’t tell if he was hard yet or not, but a couple lubed fingers on her pussy certainly told her he was about to be. 

She was still as the video played, and waited patiently as he began to tease himself against the entrance of her pussy. 

Suddenly the video stopped and another started. She waited as the moaning picked up and the audio filled the room. Just then, he pressed his cock into her. 

She did her best to stay quiet. The laptop screen blocked her face for the most part, but the gag and blindfold helped reiterate she wasn’t there for sex, she was there to give him a hole to cum in.

He began pumping in and out, fucking her softly. She couldn’t tell if the moaning was him or the video, but she was happy everything was going well so far. 

Suddenly, his strokes paused and the video changed, new sounds filled the room from the next clip and he resumed fucking her, this time rougher and deeper. 

She took every stroke as best she could, biting into the gag as she slowly became uncomfortable in the position, knowing she couldn’t stop what she’d started at this point. 

The videos changed a few more times as he adjusted speed and depth, sometimes pulling out for a moment or two when he got close. She quickly realized he was playing a marathon, not a sprint, and he would continue to edge himself inside her until he was content.

After nearly an hour of him using her as a laptop stand and fleshlight, he finally pressed deep inside her and came. 

She was overjoyed and relieved all at once, she’d given him what he wanted and she’d managed to enjoy it herself as well. 

He slowly withdrew his softening cock and shut the laptop screen to see his girlfriend still blindfolded and gagged behind it. 

Carefully he pulled the blindfold off her and placed the laptop to the side. She could see his smiling and satisfied face as she carefully removed the ball gag. 

“Have fun?” She was barely able to speak after the ordeal.

“Definitely, I think we’ll have to do this again next Monday.”

Erotica #2: Tied Up and Teased While He Games

If there was one thing that could steal my boyfriend’s attention away from me, it was League of Legends. Cuddling, having sex – all those things seemed to lose their appeal to him when it was time to play another match with friends.

He usually only played a couple of times per week and I could manage not to bother him for a couple of hours while he let off steam with his PC, but tonight, I was horny.

I’m not sure why I was so desperate for some action, but I was in more of a mood than I had been in awhile.

Unfortunately, my boyfriend, Drew, was too preoccupied with “defending the bot lane,” and keeping his stats up.I really tried to wait till he was done playing but I knew he’d be at it for hours, and my pussy was practically aching. So I decided League of Legends could wait awhile – I was going to throw on my sexiest lingerie and seduce him away from his keyboard.

The outfit I picked was nothing more than a lace bra and panties that barely stretched over my thick hips and double D’s.

“Hey, babe?” I gently opened the door to his gaming room, clad in only the lingerie. Just as I’d expected, his eyes were glued to the bright, moving screen and a thick pair of headphones covered his ears. He was so in the zone that he didn’t even notice my entrance – not until I gently tapped him on the shoulder.

As soon as he felt my touch, he looked over at me, and immediately gaped at my outfit.“Uh, is there something you needed?” He asked, and he didn’t take his eyes off my chest.

“I want attention,” I pouted, crossing my arms and pushing up my chest.

“Sweetheart, we just started a new match – lemme play for another hour with the guys, and then I’ll come play with you.”

I pictured another hour with my aching pussy. There was no way I’d last that long.

“You can keep playing with your friends, but then I’m just going to play with myself,” I said.

His eyes flashed mischievously, like I had just sparked an idea for him. “Is that so, baby?”

“Yeah, I won’t have any choice. I’m too turned on to wait any longer, I’ll just have to take care of it myself.”

To my surprise, he mumbled something into the headset and took it off.

Had my threat worked? Was he really going to pass up more time on his game to have sex with me?

He got up from his gaming chair and I turned around, expecting him to follow me into the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” He asked.

I looked back at him, but instead of following after me, he was rummaging through one of the drawers in his desk. My heart sped up – I recognized that drawer. It was the drawer where we kept all our toys and accessories for playtime.

“Uh, I thought we were going to have sex?” I asked, but now I was uncertain. We didn’t use toys that often, especially if we were just going to have a quick fuck. So, what was he doing then?

“Oh, we are,” Drew laughed, and I watched him pull out an assortment of items: one of our bigger dildos, a ring gag, and plenty of rope. “But I still need to finish playing with my friends. Since you can’t be trusted not to touch yourself for one teensy hour, I guess I can’t leave you unsupervised.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. I watched Drew untangle the rope and spread out the dildo and gag.

“I’m just going to keep a close eye on you while I game,” he explained, “But I’m not mean, I’ll make sure you have plenty to entertain yourself with. Now, come here and put your hands behind your back, baby.”

My heart was beating like a drum, but the nervousness of what might be coming next wasn’t enough to stop my panties from getting soaked.

I slowly approached Drew, placing my hands behind my back like he’d ordered me to. He gently wound some of the rope around my wrists and tied a tight knot. My hands were now stuck behind my back, resting just above the crook of my ass.

Guess there goes me being able to touch myself, I thought.

Next, he grabbed the dildo. It was around six inches and one of my favorites – it was on the thicker side, and whenever we used it, it always made me feel like I was being filled up to the brim.

As if he was barely touching me, Drew ran his hands over my covered pussy and clit, and I couldn’t help but moan.

“Someone really is horny, aren’t they?”

My cheeks burned with humiliation, but I nodded. He took his time pulling down the lace panties, but after I stepped out of them, he brought the dildo to my slick folds.

“Think your wet, aching pussy will be able to hold onto this for a little while, baby?” He teased, and I managed to stammer out some form of agreement. The dildo was usually used right before sex – I’d never kept it in me for more than a few minutes, but the thought of having the toy stuffed inside me for an hour made me even more turned on.

Slowly, Drew slipped the dildo inside my pussy, but I hardly needed any preparation. I was already wet and ready, and it only took a few minutes before I had all six inches in me. I wanted to buck my hips, to fuck myself on the toy and get some sort of relief, but Drew was already moving onto the next thing.

He grabbed more rope, but this time, he started to wind it around my waist. “What’s this for?” I asked.

“I just want to make sure that greedy little pussy stays stuffed the whole time,” he grinned at me. One part of the rope went around my waist, but the other part tied snugly between my legs. It didn’t take me more than a moment to figure out my boyfriend’s genius. The rope between my legs was tight enough to keep the dildo inside me, but the knot was positioned right on my clit – and would just serve as an additional way to keep me wet and aching.

“Are you really going to leave me like this for an hour?” I pouted. I tried to stay perfectly still, but even the smallest movements caused either the dildo or the knot to shift, sending shocks of pleasure throughout my body.

Drew continued to grin at me. “Of course not, baby. I’m also going to keep you gagged.”My stomach dropped – with the dildo and the rope causing constant friction, I’d completely forgotten about the ring gag.

Drew grabbed the gag, directed me to open my mouth. The metal ring forced my mouth open, but it wasn’t that uncomfortable. The sides were padded to prevent my jaw from chafing while I wore it.

As soon as he buckled the gag behind my head, Drew stepped back to admire me, and I felt humiliated – and more turned on than I had been in months. Here I was, clad in lingerie, hands tied behind my back, gagged, and filled to the brim with a dildo. It had only been seconds, but my pussy was practically pulsing.

“Look at you,” Drew smiled, “You’re my perfect little toy. Now it’s time to get you in position.”I couldn’t make anything more than unintelligible noises, but I let Drew guide me onto my knees and under his desk. The space was big enough for me to fit, but I had to kneel on my knees and the position only forced the dildo deeper inside me.

As I tried to keep the dildo and the knot from constantly shifting, I watched Drew sit back down in the chair and unbuckle his belt to reveal his own lengthy dick.

I knew where this was going, and I didn’t need any prompting to sit up and guide his dick into my mouth.“Good girl, look at you,” Drew patted my head, “I didn’t even need to tell you to suck me off. Now, I’m going to keep playing, and I want you to just stay like that – keep me in your mouth and try not to make too much noise. Little play toys are nice and quiet, aren’t they?”

I would’ve nodded if I could, but with my mouth full of dick and my pussy stuffed, all I could do was whine. It was going to be a long hour.

If you'd like to read part 2 to this scene, it'll be available on my OF (details on my profile).

This is a true story so I didn't know if it should go here at first, but I posted it in the r/bdsmcommunity and it was suggested I put it here instead. If there is a better place for true stories like this, someone feel free to point me in the right direction. Thanks, I hope you enjoy!

A few nights ago my Master told me he wants me to start wearing a plug for at least an hour every day, (in addition to whatever else he wants to do with my asshole in the evenings). I’ve been doing anal training for him for a couple of months now. We’ve been taking it slow and being not-too-rigid about requirements as we’ve been adjusting to the power exchange thing. So when he told me this I was like, “ooh sexy, okay!” The next day was an extra busy day and I did my other stuff that I’m in the habit of doing now, but I completely forgot about wearing the plug. It was evening before I remembered. He was busy with some work which bought me some time, to my relief. This is the first time I’ve felt anything like nervous about having forgotten to do something for him. I mean, I’m pretty sure it would have been fine, he’s always fair. We’ve been pretty relaxed about the whole thing, just sort of figuring out what we like, and taking our time and enjoying it, so it wouldn’t have been a big deal that I forgot, but somehow that made me feel all the more like I needed to be sure to be obedient. It threw me for a loop a little bit. Like, who even am I? That’s the first time I’ve felt like that about something like this.

I showered and put my plug in. I used a lot of lube but I might have gone a little too fast, because it felt uncomfortable in comparison to when he puts it in for me. I wiggled around a bit and tried to relax my asshole, and that helped some. By this point my pussy was dripping down the insides of my legs and onto my feet as I walked. I put on some cage-back panties (his favorites) and a short black slip of a nightgown. The cage-backs did nothing to keep the pussy juice from running down my legs, so I was already such a mess but assumed, correctly, that he wouldn’t want me to wipe any of it off of me. I went out to the main area of the house to find him finishing up work and talking about watching the NFL Draft. I came to stand next to him and his hand went to my ass. A shiver went through me when his fingers touched the base of the plug and I gasped a little. The look on his face about made me melt. He looked so pleased with me. I straightened up a little more as he pulled me in to a kiss.

“Good girl” he said. I felt it through my whole body.

“My pussy’s fucking dripping, it’s so wet” I said into his chest. He put his fingers between my legs and hummed his approval.

He tapped on the base of the plug. “How does your asshole feel?”

“It’s kind of a lot”, I admitted. “Will you put some more lube on it and maybe rub it a little for me? I could lay across your lap so you can watch the Draft…” I could tell right away he liked the idea.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I want”, he said.

I went to the bedroom and returned with some lube, a towel, and a couple toys.

“I brought some other toys in case you feel like using them on my asshole.” I told him.

“Good”, he said, “I do.” I could feel my face getting warm. I was blushing! Why was I blushing? I mean, this is my husband, and he is clearly enthusiastic, but I felt real shy all of a sudden.

He sat down and got comfortable and I laid across his lap. He pulled my slip up to expose my ass and started rubbing his hands all over my skin. My whole body relaxed, and I started breathing more heavily as he groped my ass cheeks more and more firmly, and spread them apart, making me feel the stretch all the way around my little asshole. Then he rubbed in a circle around it as he applied more lube. I started moaning and wriggling when he took hold of the base of the plug and started pushing and pulling it, turning it, wiggling it. He played with me like that for a little while, making my pussy drip all over his lap. Making me writhe around and moan and shudder. Once I was good and worked up he made me pop the plug out and then he started pushing lube into my asshole with his fingers. He was gentle and slow and it felt so good, it sent me off into la-la land. My pussy got all hot and I could feel my ass clenching on his fingers as he started moving them back and forth inside me. He played like this for a few minutes, until I was trembly and weak with it.

“I’m gonna use these beads on you” he said. And we’re gonna count one bead once, two beads twice, three beads three times, and so, with all the beads…”

I let out a sigh as I realized how quickly this was going to add up. I got quiet and still as he began.

“One” and he pushed a bead in, and pulled it out. “One. Two”. In and out. “One. Two” In…Out.

The first time he put the three beads in I started to realize this might get more intense than I was expecting it to, and I think I started making some noise. By the third round of three I was definitely not able to suppress my moans or gasps or whatever sounds I was making. Half-way through the fours I couldn’t hold still or be quiet at all any more and I started losing count of where we were. After the first round of five beads I forgot that they were getting pushed back in and nearly sobbed when he started pushing them in and counting again. Every bead that went in was more intense than the last, and every time the string was pulled out the sensations were amplified exponentially. It was wild. We stopped after the fives because it was feeling really intense, and he could tell I was getting close to my point. (There are nine beads in all on the “string”, in case anyone wants to know)

I mean y’all, it was something else. I was in quite a state. Having him hold me there and do that to me and count with his sexy fucking voice… jesus lord have mercy it was fucking hot, I could barely handle it. Then, he took me to the bedroom, put the plug back in my ass, tied me to the bed, blindfolded me, pushed his cock down my throat and proceeded to lick and finger my pussy until I came so hard I cried actual tears. He pressed his fingers into me and made me squirt all over every damn thing. Once I was sufficiently incapacitated by my own orgasms, he flipped me over and fucked me into a right proper delirium. I didn’t even know my own name anymore. Ffs, It. Was. Incredible. Afterwards he untied me, got us cozy and held me while I floated back to the real world. He stroked my hair and told me I was his Beloved. He praised me for how well I’m doing and kissed my eyelids and forehead and cheeks. He held my face in his hand and thanked me. We got up and had snacks before climbing back into bed and falling asleep in a pile of each other.

That was the first night of the Draft. The story of the second is for another time, because this got long-winded.

TL;DR- Did Thursday’s anal training in the living room, turned over Master’s knee while he watched the Draft, and ended up coming my brains out with a mouthful of cock before being fucked into oblivion. Will never think of the NFL Draft the same way again.

You know that whole cliché of Catholic girls taking it in the ass till marriage? That's me, except not actually because of religion in my case. Well, at least not directly.

Perhaps I should explain.

I've never had vaginal sex. I grew up with the unique Hispanic-Canadian brand of helicopter parents that refused to even utter the word "sex", but also wanted their only daughter to somehow lock down a doctor from Toronto. When I finally got out of my hometown for uni (environmental science major), I discovered the World Wide Web of sex. I also discovered that I have a really high sex drive.

Being a shy shut-in with the newfound freedom to let my freak flag fly, I quickly learned of the Catholic poophole loophole, whereby dick in the ass before marriage is somehow invisible to Jesus. Seems kinda sketch, but, hey, the dick-in-ass part didn't sound so bad. Actually, it sounded kinda hot.

And that's how I found my fetish. I don't even believe in the whole chastity till marriage (just don't tell my parents that), but the thought of being one of those girls really got me going. Catholic? Check. Conservative parents? Check. Desire for dick in my ass? Double check.

Downside is I didn't have dick yet. Until then, I had the wonderful power of sex toys at my disposal. The true freedom of college is the ability to pierce your tits and buy chastity belts and butt plugs to your heart's content.

It wasn't long until I had a whole collection. Suffice to say, my pussy was henceforth permanently locked away and my ass (almost) permanently plugged. But it still wasn't quite the full thing. I was a virgin, yes, but so was my poor butt. I still needed real dick to become one of those Catholic butt sluts. I fancied myself to soon be "Sabrina, butt slut extraordinaire".

One night in uni, I got myself drunk and horned up enough to try. I snuck into a party just long enough to steal a guy away for a quick hookup. Legit, within 15 minutes of meeting him, I was hiking up my skirt to reveal my belt and plugged booty. To this day, I still do not know how I ever had that much confidence. Needless to say, the guy was surprised. Very pleasantly surprised. Or at least that's what his prompt ass-fucking told me.

After that night, however, I never tried anything similar again. Sure, it was hot. Sure, the guy was actually a gentleman about the whole experience. But I was a shy girl at heart. A horny shy girl, but a shy girl nonetheless. And now that I had lived out the fantasy, I was perfectly happy to retreat back into my shell and fuck my own ass like a horny little hermit crab.

For the rest of uni, I maintained my little routine of keeping my pussy locked and my ass plugged, and I otherwise focused on my non-sex-related life goals. By the time I graduated, I knew I wanted to have my own little sustainable farm in the woods, where I could be "Sabrina, horny hermit extraordinaire". Plus, it'd put my degree to use, a downright luxury nowadays.

Post-grad, I worked several years, saving up money for my dream. Not a day passed—either at home or in the office—where I wasn't plugged up in chastity. Finally, after 4 years of working an office job, I purchased a 10-acre plot in the mountains west of Ottawa. Straight cash, no debt. (Thank fuck for cheap land up north.) I still couldn't quit my job at that point, though, as I still had bills to pay, but I came up to my land every weekend to plant trees and build my little cottage. A little cottage perfect for a horny little hermit.

During the first several months, I scarcely met my neighbors. With work and trees and cottage, my hands were full. Plus, I don't exactly fit in with everyone else here. Most of the people up here are weirded out enough by a single Hispanic girl into sustainable agriculture. Imagine their horror if they knew what this little slut had going on under her overalls, too.

One chilly Saturday in October, I was up on my ladder, struggling to attach a gutter to my roof.

Suddenly, a male voice spoke up behind me, "Need any help there?" The voice didn't sound old or crotchety.

I turned around on top of the ladder. When I saw the man standing there, blood rushed to my cheeks. And it wasn't just the chilly air. The man below me was fairly young—he looked about my age—, tall, and with dark stubble all along his jawline. I tried not to think about the plug that was stretching my butt. Or the nipple clamps hidden under my jacket.

"I'm Cory, by the way. And I think you're my next-door neighbor." He gestured down the road a few hundred meters to the nearest house. I'd always thought it was more crotchety old folks who had lived there. He finished, "Actually, my parents own the property, but I live with them."

"Oh, I didn't know anybody was behind me." I navigated my way down the ladder. When I got to ground level, I realized how much taller Cory was. I could tuck my whole head under his chin and still have a couple centimeters to spare. Fuck did he look handsome in that grey jacket of his, though. "I'm Sabrina, by the way."

In the ensuing conversation, Cory mentioned that he'd seen me in passing a couple of times, but that now he had an invitation for me for his family's barbecue that night. Yes, a little late in the season for barbecue, but I suppose you gotta use your snow-free months to the max, eh?

As nice as Cory was, however, I didn't really want to show up to the barbecue. I was sweaty, dirty, and plugged up like a depraved slut. But I was also a little hermit crab. And I didn't really want to come out of my shell. I was happy with my little routine. My little plot of land. My little dream. A little lonely at times, maybe, but I'd have some sheep and ducks come spring. And sheep are friends, right? Plus, I could get freaky on my own with all my toys without worry of how any man will react to my embarrassing little fetish.

Much to my surprise that evening, however, I walked my little plugged booty over to Cory's house for the barbecue. In preparation, I had managed to clean myself up into a cozy burgundy dress and black leggings. Perfect for fall weather... and to hide what I still had on underneath. Did I mention I'm a depraved little slut? Because, yeah, I'm shameless.

At the barbecue, I briefly met most of the other neighbors in the immediate vicinity, although they were all as old and crotchety as I had expected, given the region. The real attraction for me was Cory. I was scared and shy, but also drawn to him. Like I could curl up like a hermit crab into his arms. In true hermit crab fashion, I latched onto him for most of the barbecue, talking about our jobs, our dreams, our passions... Turns out Cory worked a remote office job out of Ottawa, and he was up in the middle of nowhere Ontario both for the free rent and the peace and quiet. I could listen—and watch!—him talk all day. I was like a puddle under my dress the whole time as his arms gestured around as he spoke. I couldn't help but imagine those arms holding me down and making me his.

Yeesh, I really need to get a grip on myself. At least it was enough to distract me from the looks I got all evening. Sure, no one said anything blatantly objectionable, and most were actually quite nice, but I still felt like the odd one out in the whole room. A little liberal Hispanic slut amongst white hill folk. In that crowd, Cory was the only one that made me feel normal. Like he stuck out just a little bit, too. Just enough to make me feel like I at least wasn't the only weird one in the room. I mean, who else out here would have intently followed along when I started opening up about silvopasture, mycorrhizae, and soil carbon? Two city-transplant youngsters in a room full of old, rural-born folks.

After the barbecue, Cory walked me back home to my cottage. I really wish I could say I got up on my tippy-toes for a porch-light kiss goodnight, but, alas, no such bravado from me. Even without that, though, I was just really happy to have made a friend. I went to bed that night giggling to myself like a schoolgirl who's just seen the cutest boy ever.

Over the next two years, Cory and I become best friends. I also fully finished my cottage, grew out a little pasture, quit my job, moved up here full time, and got some sheep and ducks. Until the trees grew up and started bearing fruit and nuts, my income would mostly come from sheep milk and duck eggs. It's a tight budget, but it's a peaceful life. No more commute to and from the city every weekend. Just chilling up here, taking care of the saplings and animals. Lots of time to indulge in special kinky Sabrina bondage and butt plug sessions. All while thinking of Cory, no less. But I was too much of a wuss to make a move on him or admit my feelings. Plus, I didn't even know if he saw me that way. If he did, he probably would have made a move himself a long time ago. Lord knows he's been hanging out with a plugged-up little brown slut almost every day for the past two years. If he wanted, my ass has always been his to take.

But alas, no taker.

One day, Cory asked me to be his plus-one at his friend's wedding. Maybe he's just been oblivious as men tend to be. Maybe I just gotta doll myself up in an extra nice dress at the wedding, and he'll finally realize that he's gotta plant those lips on mine. That he's gotta wrap his arms around me claim me already.

I bought myself a really flattering coral dress for the wedding. Summer, so I could get away with skin. And a lot more cleavage than Cory's ever seen on me. I mean, I'm not a prude on the farm with how I dress, but sundresses and overalls don't have the out-and-out sex appeal of a booby and leggy summer cocktail dress. Coupled with matching heels and a pink lipstick, and I was ready for Cory to see me.

When Cory picked me up from my cottage to drive to Ottawa together, I caught his eye wandering a bit. And all throughout the drive, I could see him steal glances in ways I had never seen him steal them before. But still he said nothing but our usual banter and conversation. My plugged ass ached all the drive there, just begging for him to make his move already and take me.

But he never did. All wedding long, I kept catching his eyes drifting. Even in our shared hotel room (two beds, though), he was still too much of a gentleman when I asked him to unzip me out of my dress. I didn't try anything more daring than that, though, because I was still a shy wuss at heart, even if I was getting slightly emboldened out of desperation. I returned from the trip hornier and more frustrated than ever before in my life.

So it wasn't long after getting back home before I decided to indulge myself in a particularly intense bit of self-bondage. I slipped on my sexiest fishnets and stilettos. Then, I cinched my waist into a leather corset and clamped my pierced nipples tight. I then applied cherry dick-sucking-red lipstick to my lips and put on a choker that read "SLUT" in all caps. Subtle, I know.

Next, I lubed up my ass and slid myself into this contraption, enveloping the cold steel into my rear through the hole in my chastity belt. I locked my ankles into the device. Lastly, I inserted a large penis gag into my throat and locked it into place, slipped on a blindfold, and finally locked my arms into the stockade with two timer locks set for one hour.

Once fully locked in, I started grinding against the steel rod inside my ass, fucking myself with it. Slowly at first, then picking up my pace. I'm happy that I'm one of those lucky types of girls who can finish from penetration alone. Well, anal penetration, at least. I didn't know yet for vaginal.

I kept grinding my ass onto the hard steel rod, fucking and impaling myself repeatedly, working myself towards climax. Blind and immobile and throat filled with silicone dick, I fucked myself to several orgasms on that steel. The whole time I imagined I was riding Cory's steel instead, that I could be his Catholic anal slut.

After several climaxes, the timer on my phone went off, alerting me that an hour was up. I wiggled my arms in the stockade to pry my arms out like I had done dozens of times before. But the locks didn't budge. More wiggling and more struggling still achieved nothing. The timer locks must have been broken.

It's then that I began to panic. I tried as hard as I could to get out, to wriggle free from either the restraints or break the locks, but it's no use. A thought forced its way to the front of my brain: my phone. Fortunately, I always kept it near my head, in case of situations exactly like this. Unfortunately, using it means someone walking in and finding me like this. Walking in and finding this little Latina slut helpless and locked into place. I'd have to change my identity and flee to Zimbabwe afterwards. That is if I didn't die of embarrassment first.

After another hour of struggling against the locks and my restraints, I finally conceded defeat. I managed to wriggle off my blindfold and used my nose to unlock my phone. I slowly nosed my way into my text app, opened up my messages with Cory, and typed out "help im stuck".

I hit send knowing that I was never gonna be able to look him in the eye again after this. Gonna have to dye my hair and make like a slutty-but-stupid female Jason Bourne.

An agonizing 15 minutes later, I heard a knocking on my door and Cory announcing himself. It's all I could do to shut my eyes and wait. A minute later, Cory announced that he was gonna break down the door unless I said not to. With a 5-inch silicone penis in my throat, naturally, I couldn't respond. Besides, I had bigger issues right then than worrying about having to repair some stupid door.

Soon after, the loud crash of a wooden door being kicked in filled my ears. Cory's footsteps reverberated all through my soul. I shut my eyes as hard as possible, as if that would lock out the embarrassment of him finding me like this.

He didn't even have to say anything, but I knew what kind of expression must have been on his face. The longest, quietest 30 seconds of my life passed.

"Do you have bolt cutters?" he asked. Welp, he'd definitely seen and examined my predicament now. "You can nod yes or no."

I nodded. Eyes still shut, of course.

Through the world's worst game of 20 questions, he narrowed down to where I kept my bold cutters and managed to find them and cut free the locks. He helped me out of the contraption and lifted me to my feet. The air in the room was cold and quiet, but his hand was warm. I could and feel the blood pulsing through each one of his fingers. He then draped his jacket over my shoulders.

My eyes were still shut, though. I knew my life here was over. Literally the worst thing that could have ever happened. Why did I have to be such a stupid slut and use the timer locks? Why couldn't I have just been happy with something less potentially inescapable? Why couldn't I have just been a normal person for once and not had this crazy fetish? Why couldn't I have just asked him out a long time ago, butt plug-free, and had a nice, normal relationship?

Wordlessly, Cory pulled me into his chest and wrapped his arms around me. I started sobbing into his chest.

Eventually, he broke his silence. "Everything's okay, Sabrina. I know this is, well, an embarrassing circumstance. But I still like you. And, while we never talked about it before, I'm actually pretty kinky, too. I never knew you were, too, though. I thought—"

I cut him off, "Wait, you like me?"

I think now he started to blush. He stuttered and fumbled with his words, before finally speaking straight. "Okay, yeah, I've sorta had a crush on you since basically I first saw you. But I was always worried about making a move. I don't even—" Cory trailed off. Then he asked, "Wait, you like me, too?"

Somehow, my cheeks managed to blush even more and my heart managed to beat out of my chest even more. "Yeah, I liked you from when I first saw you, too. That day when I was struggling with my gutters." I paused. "Not that you helped with them."

That got a laugh out of Cory.

I continued. "I kept hoping you'd make a move and kiss me. Even the night of that first barbecue you invited me to." I gestured down at all my kinky setup. "Hell, I even hoped way more times than I can count that you would just jump my bones."

Finally, we both made a move simultaneously and locked our lips. At least the stilettos helped me reach him. But he still got to cup both my cheeks in his palms. I melted like any girl would, even with everything that had happened.

Eventually, we remembered our time and place, and decided to get me fully out of my binds before continuing any further. Cory pulled at the cool metal of my chastity belt and asked if I needed it cut. But I sheepishly had to admit that I had the key for it, but that I kept it on because I was trying to be anal-only until marriage. I also admit that literally every single time he has seen me, I have had a butt plug in.

Cory pulled me into him again and whispered in my ear, "That's kinda hot, actually."

We locked lips again, this time more desperately. His eager tongue explored my mouth, and mine his. His hands ran coarsely over my body, finding my pierced tits and pinching them. They ran down further towards my waist, and he took a firm grasp and laid me down on my sofa nearby. No words needed to be spoken. In that moment, we both knew what was going to happen. We both knew what we both wanted. We both knew his cock was finally going in my little butt.

It slid in effortlessly, stretching open my canal. It felt so filling, so warm, in a way the cold steel of the stockade could never replicate. His firm hands held me in place as he began to thrust. I took him all the way to the base of his shaft, fully ensheathing him. Shortly, his thrusting began to speed up. His breaths grew hotter and faster on my neck. His grip on my waist grew tighter.

His thrusting was coming to a crescendo. And, somehow, so was I.

My body was taking it all. My body was thriving on real cock. My little Catholic ass loved being spread wide and filled. His member was hitting that spot up in my ass that always makes me cum. I know it's not a P-spot, but it was definitely hitting something right in there. My poor little booty could only handle so much more before I would explode all over his cock.

Until finally, both of us couldn't take it any more. Cory gave one final thrust all the way to the hilt inside of me. That thrust was all it took to send me into my own climax. As he shot forth ropes of cum deep into my bare asshole, my ass clenched around him. Pulsating hard in tune to his pulsing. Milking every last spurt from him. Stealing every drop my body could get. I needed every tiny bit.

When our climaxes finally began to subside, Cory slowly retrieved his cock from my ass. I found the full feeling quite comforting—and I didn't want any of his cum to go to waste—so I slipped my plug back in to seal in all his load. We cuddled and fell asleep together on the sofa. In the morning, we realized we never even managed to take off my "SLUT" collar. From now on, though, I officially wanted to be his slut. I kept the collar on while I went to collect fresh milk and eggs for breakfast.

A cunt is made to be penetrated, fucked, used. There are few things more satisfying than a good, solid ejaculation on the well-fucked cervix of a tight, wet cunt. It's what's meant to happen.

Anal sex is different. It's not what's meant to happen. It's what does happen when a slut needs to get put in her place. It is an ordeal, painful and degrading, that's the whole point. I love the agonized moans when that tight little ring surrenders, I love the pained expression in the mirror. Because, yeah, anal is best when I take her from behind as she's looking in the mirror. The wide-eyed distress, the bit lip, the pleading, better still the tears. She has to open for it, relax for it, but a good hard thrust will make her clench, that delicious tight clench, as she gasps at the sudden pain and my cock swells bigger still at the sensation.

Fuck yeah.

It's an ordeal, but it's what she signed up for. Sluts exist to get fucked, and fucking is not making love. It isn't about the pleasure, it isn't even about the pain. Fucking is an act of power, of domination, and a good anal session leaves no doubt whatsoever about what is happening, no confusion over is fucking and who is getting fucked. She knows it, I know it and the deep truth here is that's she's going to take it until I'm done with her whether she likes it or not. And the deeper truth is - she'd be very disappointed if I didn't deliver on that promise. Or even if it was less than hard, and deep, and long.

And here's the thing. There's a point when the slut surrenders, a point when it starts to feel good. That's when her cries turn from pain to pleasure, when she starts thrusting that tight little ass up to get it deeper. Oh yeah, it's still an ordeal, but once she's been put in her place, the cunt is going to respond from that deeply sexual place that only this can bring her too. She's going to stop resisting and start begging for it, harder, deeper. She's going to revel in the pain and degradation, and then she's going to climax, long and hard. Fuck I love that - yes it's more of those tight, engulfing clenches that feel so good - but more important it's her final fall, her acceptance of her role in this relationship. I fuck, she gets fucked, and that is what's supposed to happen. She's going to climax over, and over, and over, again. That's what sluts do, when you assfuck them properly, when you put them in that deeply sexual female place of surrender.. And it doesn't even matter that she is, because she's not going to be satisfied with one orgasm, or a dozen, or a hundred. At this point there's only one thing that will satisfy my well-fucked anal bitch, and that's my own orgasm, thrust in hard and deep, swollen to the bursting point, sperm injected deep, deep inside that tight little rear. That's what she needs, that's what she is. That's what I'm giving her. Sluts are for fucking. Anal is for fucking sluts into surrender. That's the purpose of anal.

I am in a new relationship where my partner identifies as a Dom. I am a Sub. Last night, was one of the most euphoric sexual experiences I have ever had.

He started fingering me on his black, leather couch and I instantly became more and more wet. I love when he fingers me. He is sooooooo good at it. He began playing with my clit and fingering me harder and deeper. He holds my gaze and asked me if I liked it. All I could do was moan. He moved from being on top of me onto his knees and began to lick my clit as he fingered me. My legs opened wider as I became more and more wet.

Once he got me to my edge, just about to orgasm, he asks me if I'd like to be fucked in the ass. He asks it in a soft but serious and confident tone. Almost as a whisper. When I moan yes, he says to me "Yea? That's what you'd like? Ok. I want you to get your butt plug and lube, and I want you on the bed. I'm going to go get a towel, because i'm about to make you so fucking wet. I'm going to fuck you in the ass, while I play with your clit. And if you make too much noise, i'll need to gag you with my belt".

I feel myself gush on the inside as he tells me what to do. I follow his directions. He knows what turns me on. His soft, confident tone. His serious eyes. His leather belt. The fact that he knows exactly how wet he is making me. He listens to what I like and what gets me wanting more.

I lay on the towel. He lifts my legs above my head as he puts lube onto my pink, glass butt plug. He slips it into my ass, as his penis then fills my pussy. His fingertips, playing with my clit. He thrusts slow, then fast, making me almost cum. I begin to moan. My legs shaking. My body losing control. It feels like my muscles are melting. The feeling of euphoria overtaking me.

He stops, slowly takes out the butt plug. He gently inserts himself into my warm and tight ass, ready for him. He fucks me hard, my legs above my head once more, playing with my clit. He asks me if I like it. I say yes and cannot help myself from moaning louder.

He shoves the belt in my mouth. Saying that he told me that would happen. The taste of soft leather on my tongue, watching him fuck me. I begin to shake as he circles my clit faster and faster.

As I cum, so fucking hard, he continues to play with my clit, heightening the euphoric sensation. He cums inside my ass. We cum together. Hard.

After years of spiritual, emotional and sexual abuse as a child/teen, reclaiming my sexuality has been a difficult journey. Having a partner who listens to what I like, never makes me feel judged and fulfils the roll of a Dom in a way I have needed for so long, added to the level of euphoric release I experienced last night. I am thankful to my Dom, and to myself

It's Friday afternoon and I'm walking home after a really tiring day in college. Being stuck in a lecture hall for several hours followed by several more hours of gruelling project work has absolutely drained me. I really can't wait to collapse on my bed and binge some shows so I can drift off to sleep without worrying about getting up at 8 in the morning tomorrow. The front of my shirt is splattered with paint from an accident earlier today but I don't have energy left to care. I didn't even bother to brush my hair this morning, the ends are all frizzled and I look dishevelled. It's whatever. I just need to pass this semester. Then I'll start worrying about being presentable. The twenty minute walk from the campus to my accommodation block draws to a close and I reach into my pocket to grab my ID card. It's empty. My stomach sinks as I rummage through my purse, praying that I haven't managed to somehow lost it. After some tense few seconds I finally fish it out of the mess inside my purse and breathe a big sigh of relief. I tap the card on the reader and the door unlocks. I'm so close to my bed.

Going up the four flights of stairs required to get to my room drains almost all of my remaining energy. I stumble my way along the narrow corridor, leaning on the wall for support as edge ever closer to finally being able to rest. It's been such a long day. I stick my key into the door of my room, cursing under my breathe as I wiggle it forcefully until the lock finally clicks open. My eyes close as I shut the door. So close now. I'm only seconds away from being able to lay down and relax.

I stumble towards my bed with half-closed eyes and throw myself down, only to feel something hard collide with my ribs. I snap my eyes wide open. What the hell? I've never put stuff on top of my bed. I roll over on my back and grab the thing I've just fallen on, raising it up to my face so I can see what it is. It's a cardboard box, about the size of a large textbook. There's a label with my full name along with my address. No return address or any other text anywhere. Well, it's obviously meant for me, no matter how it got here. I might as well take a look. The cardboard tears apart easily and I pull away the layer of foam padding to reveal a large ring made of shiny metal, along with a small piece of paper with some text. The ring feels surprisingly heavy in my hand. I bring the paper closer to my face. It simply says: "Don't put the collar on." I burst out laughing as the ridiculousness of the whole situation dawns on me. Someone actually sent me a COLLAR? This has to be some sort of prank. Maybe a crazy stalker? I realise that I should really feel scared but this just feels too ridiculous. It doesn't even make sense. The metal ring, or collar, feels hefty and it looks very well made. It must've been expensive. Why would someone do this, what even is the point?

The metal glints in the light as I twirl it around my hands. It does look quite pretty. I grab each side with both hands and pull outwards, seeing the clasp release as it separates into two halves with a pivot holding it together. There's a rubbery material lining the inside. The clasp makes a satisfying click as I push it closed again. I open and close it a couple more times. This feels ridiculously well-made, I don't even know where I would be able to buy this kind of thing even if I wanted to. I laugh as I raise the opened ring up to my neck. Why not? Hell, I might take a few selfies with it and then chuck it in the rubbish bin. Or take it to a pawn shop? I wonder how much I could get for it.

Goosebumps radiate from my neck as the cold rubber meets my skin. The clasp meets behind my neck and I push it closed, feeling extremely silly as I giggle away to myself. The collar makes a loud snap. I sit up bolt upright in panic, knowing instantly how much I've fucked up as my fingers pull on the cold metal. The collar might as well have been welded shut, seeing as I can't feel any kind of give at all no matter how hard I try to pry it open. Cold sweat drips down my neck as I struggle to contain my panic. I look around my room with wide eyes, trying to think of what to do. I leap from the bed to get my purse and I pull my phone out. Before I could tap on the phone icon to call my friend, a white popup fills the screen. It says "Collar", there's a picture of the exact same collar that's on my neck, and below that there are two buttons: "Connect" and "Reject".

I quickly tap on "Reject" and immediately regret my decision as the collar begins to tighten around my neck. I grab the collar but it's useless. The metal part isn't moving at all. Somehow whatever rubber lining that's on the inside is tightening around my neck, cutting off air and squeezing my throat until I'm not even able to scream. I fall to my knees and drop my phone as I use both hands to claw at my neck frantically. A sharp burst of pain explodes from where the collar is touching the front of my neck as it delivers a short but very painful electric shock. I collapse on the ground, gasping silently in pain. A few torturous seconds go by and the collar finally releases its grip on my neck so I can breathe again. I roll over onto my back, taking massive gulps of air. My heart is racing like crazy. I can feel my entire body trembling.

I pick my phone back up to see the same popup on the screen. I tap on "Connect" and squeeze my eyes shut. Nothing happens. I can still breathe. No electric shocks. I open my eyes and see a loading screen on my phone, then a few seconds later I feel my collar vibrating in unison with my phone. Three short buzzes, exactly synchronised. The loading screen finishes and I see my own face. It's the front facing camera filling the whole screen. I jump as a robotic voice comes out from my phone: "Put your phone on the table and sit on the bed. Stay in frame." A small shock from the collar, just enough to sting slightly, warns me not to disobey. My heart is beating in my ears. I can't stop shaking but I know that I'm going to have to be very careful if I want to avoid getting choked and shocked again. I get up and carefully set my phone on the table opposite my bed to get as much of the bed into the frame as I can manage. The next instruction comes as soon as I sit down.

"Take the white bag under the bed."

Sure enough, there is a white cloth bag sitting on the floor right underneath the edge of my bed. It doesn't feel very heavy. I pull open the drawstrings and peer into it, finding several curved strips of black plastic and a bright red ball with a black plastic strap through its centre. A ball gag. Holy hell what is going on and how did someone get into my room? This is absolutely insane. The collar delivers another sting, this time noticeably stronger than the previous warning sting, breaking my train of thought as my eyes immediately snap to the phone screen. There are now several animated diagrams playing. It's illustrating exactly how the items are to be used. The gag goes in the mouth, obviously, with the strap fastening behind the head. The plastic strips turn out to be zip tie handcuffs. One for the wrists, one for the ankles and the last one to be placed on the thighs right above the knees. I stare at my phone with wide eyes as the animations loop again. Before I can even get the chance to process what's happening, the metallic robot voice drones another instruction at me:

"Take off your clothes."

My mouth falls open and I just continue staring at my phone, feeling like my heart is about to pound out of my chest. My entire body is frozen and my head is spinning madly. Unsurprisingly, the collar shocks me again. The voice repeats itself but this time with a longer pause between each words. I have to take off my clothes. I clench my hands to try and control my shaking fingers as I work on undoing the buttons of my blouse, one by one until I can pull it off my body. I push myself off the bed to quickly slide my skirt off then I sit back down and fix my eyes on the phone screen. "All of your clothes." Knowing what will happen if I even dare to pause for a second, I grit my teeth and take a deep breath as I take off my bra and panties.

The animated diagrams are back on the screen. "Gag yourself." I pick up the red ball and push it in, feeling my jaw muscles being stretched wide open as it goes past my front teeth and fills up my mouth. It's already making me drool. I fasten the buckle behind my head. "Tighter." My nails dig into the palm of my hands and I let out a frustrated sigh. I reach behind my head to undo the buckle. As I start cinching up the strap even more, the voice says "Keep going." When the strap is digging into the corners of my mouth, with the red silicone ball firmly wedged between my teeth deep inside my mouth, the voice finally says "Stop." I push the buckle into place and resist the urge to scream. The gag feels so tight. I've never felt more helpless and I'm not even tied up yet. Yet. The whole process repeats for the zip tie handcuffs until my legs are fully restrained and my wrists are tightly bound behind my back. The voice delivers another message:

"Stay on the bed if you want to breathe. I'm on my way."

I twist my head around to look at my phone and I see a simple countdown filling the whole screen: [ETA - 1 Hour and 38 Minutes]

tbc

Signs were tacked up across the college campus:

"Seeking adult women for experimental study into female intimacy" "Pays 5000$ after individual contribution is completed"

The girls around campus chatted about the offer. Most came to the conclusion that it was likely some frat prank, but I took a chance. I could use the money, it sounded interesting, worst case it was a scam, right?

To my surprise, after texting the number provided, I was contacted by a research assistant to schedule my introductory examination.

The paperwork was long, I tried to skim it to check for any weird nonsense, but after the first 10 pages it got hard to focus. I hate to admit I ended up initialing randomly on the last few pages of the stack.

I was told the study focused on documenting all the variation in women's sexuality. They wanted to acquire as much data in the process as possible, with the goal of determining what activities most excite the subjects.

It started with a simple but long questionnaire, with questions on past sexual history, masturbation habits, and an extensive list of kinks to rate by interest. I couldn't help but blush at some of the questions. Writing about something so intimate in such a clinical way... somehow made it hotter? By the end of the survey I could feel the pulsing of my clit and the wetness spread across my underwear. Much to my dismay, I was told my next task would be a fully body examination, with a pelvic exam.

There were two doctors, a woman and a man, who made the whole event much easier to handle. They assured me of the scientific nature of the exam, though they did warn me there may be tests that require stimulating more sensitive areas.

Once they finished the briefing, I agreed to continue my participation, and they led me to an examination room. Upon entering the room, I was faced with a distinctly human shaped table, slightly leaned back, with areas for resting each arm and leg independently. I couldn't help but think it would fit well in a torture scene of a movie. The doctors, clearly sensing my hesitation, started to explain.

"No need to worry about the table! We have found it is most effective at preventing the subject's movements from interfering with measurements."

I was still thinking as the female doctor led me closer to the chair, guiding me into sitting. The lights of the room were so bright, it was making me lightheaded. And then, I was in the chair, or on the table according to the doctors. Then, they began strapping me down. After each leg was cuffed, I pulled against the restraints, moving my right arm away from its place.

"Is this really necessary?"

The woman chuckled as she cuffed my left arm down.

"Absolutely, like we said, subjects have a tendency to interfere with the measurements."

Just as doubt seeped into my mind, the male doctor stepped closer, forcing my right arm back into place and cuffing it before I could even process the action.

I began to struggle, pulling against the restraints. It became evident quickly that they would not be budging. I began thrashing the center of my body, any parts still free to move.

"Looks like this one is going to need the additional restraints"

I started to yell as the woman wrapped her arms around my body, reaching for a thick metal cord that she attached to one side of the chair. She secured the other side by interesting it into a hole, then used a gear to adjust the tightness. As the metal cord pressed into my skin, I could feel the wire gripping my flesh. When she stopped twisting, even the slightest movement would make the cord grip painfully at the sensitive skin of my hips. I couldn't move the lower half of my body at all.

As the woman had been attaching my hip restraints, the man attended to the issue of my screaming for help. He approached me, holding a black mask with a phallic attachment. He placed the mask over my head, taking away my sight, but to my surprise the phallic object was on the outside of the mask. I thought too soon, however, as he began to push the phallic object into my mouth. With each push there was a click as the gag was locked into place. When it began to hit the back of my throat, the doctor stopped.

He announced, "Oral depth 6.72 inches" I heard typing from the other side of the room.

With his attention directed back to me, he began to speak.

"So, my subject, at this point I am hoping you've realized this study may be a bit more than you bargained for, so I want to take a moment to assure you that everything we are doing is legal. All actions we have taken and will take from here on were outlined in your contract.

However, I do know that much of the descriptions provided in your contract are carefully worded, and not exactly intended to inform the subject, merely protect us legally.

As such, I will describe the first phase of testing to you, and any subsequent tests will be explained as needed.

Today, we need to establish your control state. We determined from your survey that you do not masturbate regularly, and have not experienced an orgasm for some time. This may lead to increased sensitivity, which can skew our results.

We took some time to develop a proper entry exam for unexpressed subjects as yourself. Ultimately, you must have a full, deep, and complete orgasm before testing can begin.

To achieve this orgasm, we will need to bring you to the edge of orgasm repeatedly before you can be given release. This time does vary based on the individual, but we have a timing method that we have found produces the ideal results.

We will begin this process immediately."

With that, I felt pressure directly on my clit. My body tried to flinch but all that resulted was a clit twitch and the pinching of the metal cord. A steady vibration started. I twitched and tried to cry out as they adjusted the placement to touch the most sensitive part of me as directly as possible. They found the right spot so quickly, and despite my struggles to prevent it, I could feel my orgasm building. As it got stronger I felt my heart racing, and right as I felt the cusp, a loud beep rang through my ears as the vibration immediately stopped. I tried to jerk with all my force towards the vibratior, for that second longer I needed to go over the edge.

"First edge 104 seconds, begin 30 second cool down"

I quivered in the chair as I felt my pleasure fade away. Just as I caught my breath, the pressure began again on my clit. My body jolted as the vibration picked up, and within moments I felt myself reaching the edge. I tried to whine, to beg for release, but with my mouth stuffed I couldn't manage more than a moan. The beep went off as the vibrator was quickly removed, filling my body with an undescribable desperate longing.

"Second edge 47 seconds, begin 60 second cool down"

The minute ticked by slowly as my clit throbbed. I blushed as a tear trickled down my cheek, thankful that my face was hidden under the mask. I began to wonder how long this would go on, at what point they would consider me ready. It could be another hour. Hell, it could be several hours. And I still had no idea what I was in for after this. They had made it clear that this was only the beginning.

With fear creeping down my spine at the endless potential suffering these people could force upon me, the vibrator was pressed against my clit again. The vibrations filled me with relief as I couldn't help but enjoy the stimulation. For a few moments, I nearly forgot where I was, lost in the pleasure flowing into my mind. As the bliss washed away my fear, my orgasm continued to build steadily. The edge came much slower this time, building and building past what would normally be my peak. My body was enjoying this, the overwhelming pleasure that could be maintained so much longer when there wasn't an orgasm forcing an ending.

The beep sounded, breaking my thoughts, shaking my mind, as the pleasure was ripping away again.

"Third edge 138 seconds, begin 15 second cool down."

The edge hadn't faded by the time the vibrator began again. So quickly I was brought up to my peak again. I could feel the blood rushing through my body as my heart rate picked up.

Another beep, leaving me on the razors edge of my orgasm. I squirmed and could swear I almost tipped myself over, as firm cold metal pressed into my labia and spread me open, exposing my clit to open air. Heat rose from my pussy to my head as I realized how exposed I was. Naked, helpless, in front of these strangers. Now, my lips spread apart, revealing my throbbing engorged clit, betraying my attempts to convince myself I wasn't enjoying this.

"Fourth edge 16 seconds, begin 15 second cool down and prepare for continuous stimulation."

I didn't need to wonder long what he meant by this. The pressure I felt was not the firm silicone of the vibrator, but instead some sort of soft cloth, maybe a brush. Without my sight I couldn't be sure, but the sensation was distinct. The soft brush against my clit caressed me closer. With so little time to come down, I wasn't far from orgasm already. The brush continued, slow and steady, just enough to leave me needing more.

My pleasure built and built, but never tipped. I don't know how they did it, but I couldn't cum. I felt it, right there, but the stimulation was never enough to allow it to flourish. Each moment felt like hours as I began to cry. The desperation was incalculable. I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe. The pinching of the metal cord faded, the pain from my restraints became irrelevant. All I could do was focus on the painfully slow circling of the brush.

And just like that, I gave in. I went limp. Resistance was futile and no amount of it would get me what I needed. I needed to cum. My body relaxed as I embraced the helplessness of my situation, let the pleasure wipe everything from my mind. Through the fog I heard the doctor speak.

"Two minutes of held edge complete, 10 seconds cooldown then begin orgasm protocol"

The brush was removed, giving me a moment to regain my senses. Had I heard correctly? The torment was over? Part of me couldn't help but I be disappointed.

The pressure of the vibrator felt so different this time. After the brush, it felt so firm and satisfying. It's vibrations filled my body and mind as I prepared to embrace my release. It built quickly, rising to a crashing wave. Then, to my dismay, it stopped.

"Fakeout completed after 24 seconds."

My tears leaked down to my neck as I began to struggle again. The bastards. They know I need it and they fuck with me like this. My pleasure fed my rage and I began to struggle violently.

It was then I heard a whisper in my ear. The soft, soothing voice of the woman.

"Don't worry, your release will come. Relax and embrace the sensations. You can do nothing but enjoy the stimulus. And I assure you, the release will be unlike anything you have experienced."

Her voice moved to my other side.

"You're so inexperienced, repressed, you have no idea what the limitations of your mind and body are. We will help you unlock a world of pleasure beyond your imagination."

With that, the vibrator began again. She continued,

"Relax, focus on your breathing. In, and out, let the pleasure flow throughout your body."

I found myself listening to her orders without resistance. I steadied my breath, focusing on the pleasure. I felt it flow down my legs, relaxing into the chair. Moving up my arms and face, filling me with peaceful pleasure.

"Good," she cooed, "Very good subject, your body knows what it wants. It wants this. The suffering. It fuels the pleasure. We are trained to resist pain, avoid negative sensation, but it doesn't have to be that way. Pain guides pleasure, they swirl together into euphoria. Embrace it"

With a sharp intake of breath, I felt my orgasm crashing into me. My mind flooded with pleasure in a way I had never experienced. My body clenched as much as it could against the restraints. Words simply cannot describe the euphoria. I began to shake as the wave settled, lulling me into complete relaxation. The vibrator was pulled away as I relaxed, letting me enjoy the last few moments of my orgasm.

"Orgasm complete, total elapsed time 10 minutes and 9 seconds."

He is drooling.
Cleaning up the saliva from his lips with the back of his hand.
I am completely naked and he locked the door. There is no running, there is no hiding.
I feel like prey.
Like a dish served hot on a hungry man’s dinner table.
I don’t move. I barely breathe.
Trevor is always playful, even when I tease him to hell and back. Even when he hate fucks me. Now, he feels different. He looks different… staring at my tits like he could bite a whole chunk of them off.
His breathing is so heavy I can hear it… I can feel it.
“Bend over” he says.
I cross my arms making my boobs pop up and it’s like I have strings going from my nipples to Trevor’s sanity. Because my tits move as I breathe and he seems to be squirming inside his own skin.
“You know what was funny?”
“Bend over”
“The way you held on to your beer all night. It was the bottle I shoved in my pussy, wasn’t it? You finished drinking it, but you didn’t put the damn thing down. I noticed this one time when someone tried to take it and you almost lost it. Were you really that desperate to smell me? I mean, what was up with that?”
“Tess?”
“Yeah?”
“Bend over”
“Make me”
“Ok” he says, quickly and carelessly. He grabs me before he even finishes replying. And considering his reply was only two letters, that was quite impressive.
He grabs one of my wrists and my waist, trying to turn me over so he can fuck my ass. I don’t fight him too much, but I don’t make it easy for him either. Trevor is large and thick. I swear his arms are about as thick as my thighs so when he grabs me like this, there is little hope for me even if I was trying to fight him with all I had.
“It’s so fucking easy to make you” he whispers “You said you wanted to be taken against your will and I thought I was gonna be sore and broken the following morning. But no… you’re like a little kitten with no claws”
Why does he have to do that?
Yeah, I know he is like four times my size, but there is no need to humiliate me.
“If I wanted to hurt you, you’d hurt” I say.
“If you wanted to hurt me, I’d tickle”
“Can you be quiet while you fuck me? Sometimes your voice pisses me off”
“You say that and I feel like singing” he grabs me harder and bends me over.
“At least when Ethan dry humped me, he just went for it. Instead of giving it intros like a little bitch”
Is it possible to hear someone’s blood boil?
I think it is.
I think I can hear it now.
Trevor backs off. I am bent over with my naked ass up and yet he is the one in a vulnerable position.
“What the fuck did you just say to me?”
I turn my head to the side and repeat it, carefully, like he is dumb “That when Ethan rubbed his cock against my ass, all he made me listen to was his warm moans. And I enjoyed it more than…”
He shuts me up by grabbing my throat.
His hand is large and strong, when he puts his fingers on my neck they go around me almost completely. And then he squeezes.
He’s done some versions of this before: choking me. But, like I said, it always felt playful. This time it feels real. This time his fingers are unrelenting, tightening around my throat to the point where I can’t even gasp because I have no air. Trevor hasn’t had a hair cut in a while and his hair falls over his eyebrows almost reaching his eyes and when he brings my face close to his, his hair tickles my nose.
“Apologize”.
“Fuck you” I whisper with whatever breath I have left.
He licks his lips like he is about to commit a crime. And then his face disappears from my line of sight as he turns me around. He sits on his bed and grabs me by throat and hair to bend me over his knee so he can spank me.
I am fully naked.
He is fully dressed.
There is something mind numbing erotic about being at a man’s disposal like this.
That and the fact that he is far to strong for me to do anything. He moves me around like I’m a little rag doll, made of cotton and light fabric. He wants me this way, then he wants me that way. I have to oblige no matter how many times I say fuck you, because he is right… I can’t fight him. And I’ll be damned if that doesn’t turn me on.
I sink my elbows in his bed and try to arch my back a little so I can look at him, but he has his fingers on my hair, shoving my face down like I’m a disrespectful servant.
“Don’t fucking move” he lets go of my hair, but still has me grabbed by the neck. He needs one hand to… spank me? That’s what I think, but the hit never comes.
That’s when I hear it: that sweet sweet sound of leather running through loops of jeans. He is removing his belt with only one hand, he loops it around his hand once, like a lasso and rubs it against my pussy.
I close my eyes.
Fuck, this is good.
My puss is still fresh from waxing to the point where my skin is very sensitive. Even panties and shorts pressing against it already feel a little odd. The leather on his belt is something else. Hard and edgy. He caresses my slit with it and I feel it slide more and more as it gets lubed up by my pussy honey. But then he turns it a bit and the edges of the leather hit my clit like a knife, waking me up from the torpor of pleasure with a slice of pain.
I bite my lips to have some control over my moans.
Fuck, I like pain.
I really fucking love pain.
I had no idea.
I can’t really understand it or explain it.
If I am being completely honest, I am not even sure I can accept it.
But it’s true.
The edges of the belt cut into my pussy and I feel my tits going hard and my head going light.
“Apologize, and you get the belt” he says “Don’t apologize and I’ll fist fuck you. Choose”
“I want the belt” I beg. Fuck I want that belt. I wanna feel it burning against my ass.
I am bent over his legs, so my boobs are brushing agains his jeans. I can’t really move my arms in this position, not without him squeezing my throat tighter.
“Apologize”.
“I’m sorry” I say begrudgingly while rolling my eyes.
“Did I hear attitude in your voice?”
“You heard an apology. Don’t be a needy bitch”
I think he dropped the belt on the bed because the thing being pressed against my pussy is his hand. He fucks me with one finger and that is enough to kill the mood.
I am bent over his knee laughing my naked ass off.
That was his threat? Really?
He threatened to fist me but decided to… finger me instead?
“This is how you punish me?” I am laughing. He puts another finger in but whatever “I think you lost your skill, Trev. I’m bored”
The hand around my neck chokes me so hard my whole head shakes back, like a bad dog being pulled by the collar. That’s when finger three and four go in. And the finger five.
My eyes go wide cause this feels weird as fuck.
I’ve had some pretty large dicks in me, Trevor’s being one of them but a full fucking clenched fist plus some forearm is too much. My pussy muscles are stretching like I am giving birth to his arm, and there is so much man inside me that all those little delicious nerves inside my puss are feeling him, everywhere at the same time.
He presses in a little more.
Fuck.
Ok.
Enough right?
How much of his forearm is he gonna ravage me with?
He is hard in his jeans. His erection is obvious, poking me across his lap, like he is ready to fuck me through his pants and my stomach.
I try to say no, but he is grabbing my throat too tightly so I shake my head.
“You ready to apologize?”
I nod and he lets me go so I can speak.
“I’m sorry” I squirm my whole body still bent over his lap trying to escape his fist but I don’t think it’s possible for a woman in my situation to escape this hold at all.
“What?” He pretends he didn’t hear.
I sink my fingers in his sheets so violently I’m unmaking his bed.
He shoves his fist deeper and I scream.
“I’m sorry. Fuck. Trevor, I’m sorry. I’m sorry”
“What for, baby?” He pulls my hair, arching my body so he can whisper against my temple.
I thought fisting was like being fucked by a large dick.
I was adorably wrong.
Being fisted is like being fucked by an unnaturally large never-ending monster dildo. It’s the thickest thing you ever had up your pussy. It’s the longest thing you ever had up your pussy. And while a man’s hips and thighs carry a lot of punch, being fucked by a dominant hand has a powerful kick of its own. And it’s easier… he doesn’t have to hold his body weight on his hands and elbows, which means he won’t get as tired as fast.
I try to move my legs to crawl away from his lap and get that fucking arm out of my pussy but he has a hold of my hair like I’m a pet. Like he is trying to have me bathed and cleaned and I am not cooperating.
“Shh-shh. What are you apologising for?”
“For… for…” I am still trying to crawl, trying to squirm, trying to turn. That arm inside me doesn’t feel natural one bit and yet I am leaking pussy juice like an ice cream cone in the summer, pulling and pushing his bed linen until his sheet are a clump around us “Fuck, Trev… for whatever. For everything. For calling you names. I’m sorry. Please, I’m sorry”
He takes his fist out and I feel like I am breathing for the first time.
He kisses my temple, says “Good girl” and then he hits me.
His belt smacks my ass so hard I can hear it echo around the walls.
I gasp in surprise, grabbing his thigh and pressing my stomach against his erection like a whore.
“That’s my good girl” he smiles, stroking my hair “You want more?”
“Yes, please, daddy” I think I say these words, but they come out of my mouth sounding like one single long moan.
He whips me again.
I noticed he has been spanking me harder every time he does it. And every time I think “ok, now he is spanking me as hard as he can” only to be proved wrong the next time, when his hit is even stronger.
The belt hurts me the worst. But now I’m not sure if he can still do more.
“Trev?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Are you hitting me as hard as you can?”
“No, sweetie” he caresses my ass before spanking it again “You want daddy to be kinder?”
“No” I spill so fast it makes him laugh “I wanna feel the hardest you can do. Can you stop holding back?”
“No. We go slow”
“Please” I cry, pressing my body against his cock “Please, Trev. Please, spank your baby girl. She wants it”
“Does she?” He kisses my forehead.
“Yes, please”
“The hardest I can?”
“Yes” I have a smile now. I am so wet, it’s pathetic.
“Ok” he whispers “this is gonna hurt”
“Don’t hold back” I beg and brace for it.
He doesn’t hold back.
He whips my ass with such an intense violence my whole body moves forward and he needs to hold me to keep me in place. The sound is so loud I am sure everyone heard us downstairs and… if they didn’t hear the sound of leather against skin, they definitely heard my scream.
It burns. Like the belt slashed my flesh and I now have an open wound.
It’ hard and painful… and delicious.
“Fuck” Trevor sounds upset “I shouldn’t have done that” he kisses my ass cheeks where he hit them “That’s gonna leave a mark”
“It doesn’t hurt so much” I say, but that’s just cause I’m wet like a virgin being fingered for the first time. It does hurt. A lot.
“It will hurt tomorrow. Fuck, I shouldn’t have done that” he kisses my ass cheeks again and I wanna hold him and call him baby so bad right now “I’m not letting you decide things anymore”
“Ok, daddy”
“I decide everything from now on, yes?”
“Yes” I nod, like I’m the best girl ever and I get another kiss on the forehead. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me but I am loving these.
“I want your ass now, ok?” He whispers against my temple and he sounds so gentle “I’m gonna fuck it really hard, but you’re gonna take it, ok, baby?”
“I’ll take it”
“Good girl. Bend over”
I obey really fast. What the fuck, Tess? I don’t know why I’m suddenly cooperating but these forehead kisses after the hard spanking are something else.
My clit is so sensitive I can feel it throbbing.
I am so wet that I barely feel any friction when I move my thighs.
“Like this?” I ask, putting my ass up while he unzips his pants.
“Yeah, that works. Stay right there. This is gonna be hard, ok? It will hurt again. But you made me wait all night like a fucking cunt so I will go really hard”. Fuck, he sounds sweet. How can he say mean things and sound so sweet?
“I can take it”
“Of course you can” he says with an adoring voice “Here” he has his cock out and close to my face “Put this in your mouth to lube it up”.
Oh fuck yeah.
I swallow it, spitting on it and licking it good.
Trevor has that loud manly moan that makes me almost reach an orgasm.
“Slowly” he growls “Don’t make me cum. Not yet”
I take him out of my mouth.
“Is this ok?” I stroke it up and down. He has his eyes closed and I think he forgot what he was supposed to do next “Daddy!” I cry “Aren’t you gonna fuck my ass?”
“Yeah, baby” he seems out of it, which makes me feel incredibly fucking hot. He grabs my hips and presses the tip of his cock against my hole.
I had him there before, it was quite fast but it didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.
But I had a feeling he was going really easy before and I don’t think he’ll be as kind now.
His hands sway through my curves. Trying my butt and my waist, then all the way to my tits and back.
“You are so good” he says, and I don’t think he means my attitude.
He leans over me so he can kiss my nape and whisper in my ear.
“Tessie?”
“Hm?”
“You like it rough, don’t you?”
“Yeah…” I moan like I am pleading.
“I’m gonna show you I can rough you up without you having to make me hate you, ok?”
I think he got a lube somewhere cause I feel a cold gel in my ass.
“I thought you liked brats” I pout.
“Oh, baby, I love brats. But I can be a hard fuck either way. You ready?”
I nod and the strangest thing happened.
It’s like Trevor is now Two Trevors.
Trevor One is sweet and kind. He is worried about me and making sure I am ok. He kisses me on the shoulder and the tone on his voice makes me feel… loved?
Trevor Two is a sadistic dom. He doesn’t give a fuck about my well being and will rough fuck my ass like I’m a sex doll with a plastic hole. His hand is heavy and he’ll spank or pinch anything he wants.
Trevor One seems to be in charge of lips and voice.
Trevor Two seems to be in charge of body and words.
“That ass is mine now, you fucking cunt. I’m gonna fuck it so rough, you’ll be asking permission to sit from now on”, the words coming out of his mouth sound horrible. Nasty. But his voice! His tone! It’s so low and soft. Endearing. Like a teacher who really cares about you and wants to explain that the exam will be hard but you’ll be better for it.
His body around me has absolute control over me. His hands on my hips push my ass into his cock in one sweep. He is not slow or calm. He ravages my once virgin ass like a viking assault. Like he is gonna come, ransack me and leave whenever the fuck he wants.
His cock is thick and my ass is inexperienced, so it hurts.
But I can’t even be bothered by it, cause while his body is violently taking mine with no care, his lips are on my nape and down my shoulder giving me the sweetest kisses.
And his moans! God. I love a man who can moan. Loudly. Proudly. I can feel his pleasure through them. The moans and growls and groans and howls. He is feeling my ass so good.
“Fuck, you’re tight” he gasps “I hope you enjoy this cause I’m fucking your ass everyday”
“If I don’t enjoy it?”
“Then I’ll take it with you kicking and screaming” he says with that loving tone and fucks it harder.
I am moaning myself. Barely able to stop. Biting through the clump os sheets I made around us to try and keep quiet.
Trevor humps me from behind like an animal, with such power on his hips that every time he slams into me, I feel the belt wound on my ass cheeks burn again.
It all hurts. Anal hurts, specially with how hard he is doing it. The spankings also. It’s all the good pain… the one I like. But I am missing some pleasure to make it better.
“Can you make me cum?” I ask.
“Be quiet or I’ll gag you”
“Please, daddy. Finger me a little?”
“Oh, sweetheart.” He kisses my back “No. I am just gonna use you and fill you up with jizz. You’re worthless, you understand? Taking my cum is all you’re good for”
What.
Why.
This is so odd.
I feel upset. He says that and I am longing for my forehead kisses again. Why?
How does he do this? He makes me… needy.
But he… he does finger me.
He places his hand just in reach of my slit and clit, fingers lined up in a way that when he fucks me, the movement makes my pussy brush by all his four fingertips.
Little bit of pleasure.
But not enough.
So I try to hump his fingertips like a dog, wiggling my hips trying to find them underneath me. He lets me have them but every now and them he pulls them away a little bit.
“Before I’m done. I did promise you this” he growls. His fingers vanish for a second and I almost cry out in despair, but the air gets robbed from me when his belt loops around my neck and he pulls.
Like a pet on a leash. Tight around my throat, choking me the hardest he ever has.
If my clit had a mouth, it would scream. I am so horny I could cum just by being spanked. I can feel every part of my body so clearly. Spread open on all fours on someone’s bed, tits shaking at every strike of a thick cock burning all the way up my ass. The bright pain on my ass cheeks still reminding me of the whipping, while Trevor shoves his pussy juice soaked fingers in my mouth to gag me. Not that I had to be gagged… with that belt looped around me like a noose, I can’t even breath right let alone speak.
I feel like a piece of meat being served and loving every second of it.
I had no idea sex could be this good.
No idea.
God, how will I ever go plain missionary ever again?
He holds the belt with one hand, keeping me leashed like a wild horse and takes his other hand back between my thighs. He slides two fingers through my pussy lips keeping them open. He doesn’t touch me anywhere else. But the strikes of his cock makes my body move and, open like that, it feels like some fresh breeze hits my pussy and fuck my ever lasting life, that feels glorious. Just the puffs of air are enough to make my clit sing and dance. I start moaning like I am begging for my life.
“I’m keeping you as a pet now. Gonna cage you with your shaved pussy up so I can have it every morning for breakfast. But first you’re gonna give me a color, hm?”
I remain quiet cause I’m not sure I understood.
“You hear me, you cunt? Give daddy a color. Right now”
I don’t know what to say. If I say red he’ll stop and I don’t want him to stop. But the belt is a bit tight so I try “Y-yellow”.
The belt immediately loosens. I think he dropped it completely and brings his hand to my throat instead. Holding me lightly.
“And your ass?” He moans.
“It has your shape by now, daddy”
“Good. So fucking good” God, I love his moans. I’m gonna cum “Here, you can fuck this”
He puts a pillow between my thighs and its not a lot, but it’s something. My clit is so desperate to be included and to get any touch at all that my whole body dives for that pillow like it’s the last life jacket on a sinking ship. It’s fluffy and does very close to nothing to tame down my needs, but my body is in agony so I take it.
And I gotta confess…
I miss the belt.
On my throat.
Trev still has a hand there but it’s not the same.
Maybe I was just a bit scared of the novelty. I don’t know.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, baby?”
“It was green before” I decide.
“What?”
“You can choke me with the belt, I liked that better”
Trevor laughs out.
“Of course you did. Fucking whore, you are” he grabs my neck with both hands really tight but doesn’t bring the belt back. Hand does the trick though.
I can’t breath right.
His muscles tighten and I know he is about to cum.
“Fucking cunt” he moans “I’m gonna dump my load in you now. What will you say?”
“I’ll say thank you” I gasp, choking.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you, daddy”
“Yes, you will”
My pussy found a nice angle to hump the pillow, on one of its edges where the pillowcase fold makes it a bit harder. So I am rubbing my clit against it like it’s a full sized dick. The cock in my ass is actually starting to feel good.
Being deprived of oxygen makes every sensation crazy intense. Like they all last way longer than they are supposed to.
I am so close.
Fuck.
I just need a little more.
Just a little more.
“Rub my pussy?” I beg “Please, fuck, rub my pussy” I try to take my hands there to do it myself and Trevor gives up the choke to hold my elbows back. He does it so overwhelmingly that I lose my balance completely, with my arms fully pulled behind my back, my face drops into the mattress. I can’t move. He holds me by the elbows and fucks my ass like a beast. Moaning and breathing loudly rising up to his orgasm.
My body shakes and convulses.
I just need a slap in my pussy. A spank in my ass. A bite on my ear. I swear to God, I just need a little nudge and I’ll cum too.
Trevor starts climaxing and my entire body feels the despair of not being allowed the delicious release it has been anticipating.
“PLEASE” I cry out “Fuck, Trev, PLEASE” I move my ass back humping his cock, squeezing my pussy muscles to try and make myself cum.
And just as he is about to tip over, just as he is almost done, he grabs my puss and my clit.
It’s not a brushing of the fingers, it’s not calm or discreet.
He violates me. Rubs my clit so forcefully it feels like he might rip it off and take half my pussy lip with it.
Going from zero touch, to little touch, to fresh air to being vigorously manhandled like that, is more than my clit could ever take. It’s just like the Two Trevors. The light touches versus the strong violations. The hardness versus the forehead kisses. My eyes roll all the way to the back of my head. I open my mouth in a silent scream while orgasm tears me into twenty pieces of Tess. His moans in my ear are so fucking hot. I can’t hold it in. I turn my face to the side just enough to lick him and that does it for him too. He rubs my clit even stronger and my orgasms (which was almost over) comes back with a vengeance. I feel it building up and blowing up again. One on top of the other. His hot jizz fills my ass and I loose my grasp of reality. My head becomes numb and I think I am squirting all over his bed. He never stops rubbing me. Never. Until I’m done. Until I’m dead.
We both drop on his bed breathing like we just survived a double marathon. It takes us fifteen minutes before either one of us can move.
And he is the one to do it fist.
Turning to get something in his drawer before turning to me with a… gel? Of some kind?
He takes some of it out of the tube and gently spreads it on my ass cheeks where the belt hit me.
“Trev…” I laugh “I’m fine. It’s fine. I asked for it”
“Yeah, but it’s gonna hurt like a bitch tomorrow” he says, ignoring me to keep on pouring gel on my wound “Can’t believe I did it. You’re crazy, I can’t listen to you”
“Well, in your defense, you were really horny”
“I should know better”
“Relax!” I pinch his ear “And I should go” I check the time and you know… it’s a safe bet that all the people in this house now know we are having sex, but one can still try to play innocent.
“No. You’re sleeping here tonight” he says.
“Excuse me?”
“Tess, please. I was really rough with you tonight”
“You’ve been rough before” I look around for my towel.
“Not like this, I wasn’t. Please stay? Let me take care of you?”
“Wow, Trev” I tease him “I am a little disappointed. Take care of me?”
“Tessa…”
“Have you gone soft? Cause I gotta tell you, a true dom would…”
“Tessa, red, ok? Red. I’m serious right now”
I drop my smirk.
“I’m sorry. I thought you were just being silly”
“I’m not” he slowly brings me back to bed and into his arms “Listen, being this rough while being this intimate is something that takes its toll”
“I feel fine. Truly! I wanted all that!”
“I know. But it’s still hard on the body. And… on the mind, I guess”
“Trev, I’m ok. I promise”
“You are ok right now. But in half an hour, you might feel it overcome you, and you might wanna cry and…
“And if that happens, I’d rather be alone!”
“And if that happens, I need to be there for you”
“I’m a grown woman, I’m not your responsibility”
“That’s exactly what you are! Tess…” he rubs his eyes “You trusted me to do all this to you. You trusted me to hurt you. It is my responsibility to make sure you are ok. Please?” He rubs my arms, gently “If it’s all the same to you, please sleep here with me? I’ll get you some gel if you’re hurting, I’ll hold you and make sure you are ok. Please?”
I hesitate, looking at him.
I really do feel fine.
But being hugged and kissed doesn’t seem all that bad.
“Maybe forehead kisses?” I joke, even though it’s not completely a joke.
“Definitely forehead kisses” he grabs me into his arms and pulls me under the blankets before covering me with kisses. On my cheeks, my lips and, yes, my forehead “We also need to talk” he says “I need to know what you liked and didn’t like. And how you felt with everything”
“Ok. But can we do that tomorrow? I’m really tired”
He takes a deep breath like he’d really rather do that now, but he’ll give in.
“Yeah, we can do that tomorrow. But we will do that, you hear?”
“Sir, yes, sir!” I salute him, making a little light of his seriousness.
“And hey” he runs his thumb over my lips, caressing me so sweet “You know I say a bunch of stuff cause I know you like to hate fuck, but they are not true, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well… when I call you worthless, for instance. You’re not worthless” he kisses my lips and something inside of me is melting “You’re priceless” he smiles.
He has such a lovely smile.
Oh fuck.
Oh no.
No, no, no.
Tessa, don’t you dare start liking him.
Don’t you fucking dare.
“Thank you for trusting me, Tess”
“Thank you for not being an asshole all the time”
“Just some of the time, hm?” he laughs.
“Most of time!” I tease and he jokingly bites me making me smile “Are you gonna sleep with all these clothes on?”
“No!” he jumps out of the bed quickly to get his clothes off and is back in a second.
He pushes me into his arms and sinks his nose in my hair. I hug him back. He feels really warm and soft, even though all his muscles are so big and hard.
He kisses my hair.
“Good nigh, Tessie”
“Good night, Trev”
Yeah.
I’m fucked.

The following is a non-consensual kidnapping story that involves restraints, medical play, pussy stretching, and humiliation/degradation. 2480 Words.

It was dark. She opened her eyes and she couldn’t see anything, it was pitch black. Trying to sit up she felt something metal holding her wrists down near her head , and another band of metal around her neck. In a panic she tried to move her legs but found them bound down in the same manner, metal bands pinning her ankles down and her thighs down, right above her knee. She gasped in panic, inhaling to yell for help but her mouth was immediately filled with a wad of cloth. It was shoved deep into her mouth, stuffing her mouth roughly, any sound she made muffled immediately. She tried to push it out with her tongue but then heard the sound of duct tape being pulled and ripped, and then feeling of tape being placed over her stuffed mouth. She whined in panic, her body struggling against the tight metal bands that kept her near immobile.

The last thing she remembered was walking back to her car. She had stayed late at the office, no one else, except for the security guard, had still been in the office. She had walked through the echoing vacant parking garage, heading towards her car when…she couldn’t remember. She couldn’t even remember getting to her car. She begins to get lost in panicked thoughts as she strains to remember anything. 

Suddenly she felt her legs moving apart, jumping her out of her train of panicked thoughts. Feeling cold air on her now exposed pussy, made her finally realize she wasn’t wearing any clothes. The sense of panic ran through her again, as whatever her legs were secured to kept opening them wider and wider, exposing her bare pussy to whoever held her there. 

She tried to scream against the stuffing in her mouth but only a slight groan came out. The spreading stopped and she lay there for a moment with her legs spread for what felt like an eternity. She kept trying to pull at her bonds but to no success. She felt so exposed, she could feel the air between her legs.

Suddenly there was the touch of latex gloves on her inner thigh, making her jump. Her body shivered as the gloved fingers moved up her thigh and towards her exposed pussy. She tried to flinch away but her body was secured too tightly. The gloved hand caressed the outside of her pussy, circling up towards her clit then back down. She groaned in protest as they continued their exploration. There was then more fingers, as two hands spread her pussy open, as if it were some form of perverted medical examination. She felt a finger slide up and down, a little smoother than it should have. Was she wet? From this? From being helplessly examined. She groaned through the gag again, and almost in response to it a finger slipped inside her. She tried struggling away to no avail. One of the gloved hands rested itself on her pelvic bone to keep her hips from moving as the finger explored deeper. She could feel it moving around inside her, feeling inside her pussy. After a moment the finger came out and her pussy was spread open by the other hand again, then suddenly two fingers were in her. The exploration of her pussy continued, she could feel the gloved fingers probing her, spreading apart, moving up and down. She couldn’t help but release an involuntary moan.

The fingers were suddenly pulled out, and she lay there exposed and alone again. She could feel how wet she’d become, the cool air brushing against her wetness sent shivers down her.  Trying to pull against her bonds again she froze in her attempt,  she felt her legs bending in their secured points, and raising. In a moment her thighs were perpendicular to her body, her legs bent at the knee. She tried to make another muffled protest, she felt even more exposed than before. Not long and the gloved hands were back again, trailing down her now raised thighs. She felt as one of the fingers slid up and down her pussy, it felt wetter than before. In the middle of cursing herself and whoever held her here she flinched as she suddenly felt something metal and cold against her opening. The other hand on her pelvic bone again to keep her still as the metal thing was pressed into her. She made a sound of panic and protest as it was slid in. She was breathing heavily, as, what she was now discovering was a speculum, was expanded inside her. After it was fully expanded she felt the gloved fingers inside her again, probing, exploring the inside of her pussy. She tugged the bands that held her arms, she felt completely and utterly exposed, humiliated, and helpless. The fingers stopped their exploring, and she felt the cool air inside her for a moment, then the speculum was decreased and taken out. She whimpered behind the cloth stuffed tightly in mouth, she couldn’t do anything to stop the torment, the humiliation. 

A moment later she felt something drift up and down her now soaking pussy, the helplessness making her wetter and wetter. It didn’t feel like the gloved hand, and suddenly it was lining up at her opening and pushing into her. She tried to wiggle away again as a toy was pressed into her slowly. The speed was agonizingly, experimentally, slow, it was pushed into her a small amount then pulled back, but not fully out of her, then again pushed in, further this time, then pulled back slightly. This went on until the toy was fully seated inside of her, she let out a moan as her hips tried to wiggle around the toy. The slowness of the process had made her start to lose herself to the sensation. The toy was brought back and forth a few more times then pressed deep inside, stopping for a moment. The gloved hands were on her lower stomach again, examining , slowly touching. One of the gloved fingers slid slowly over her clit, making her jump, pulling against her bonds. Her clit was more sensitive than she thought it would be, and she let out a groan as it was gently touched again. 

A moment later the gloved hands were off of her and the toy was slowly being pulled out of her. She gasped slightly as her pussy was empty again, exposed to the cool air for just a minute. Then there was another toy at her opening, sliding its way through her wetness. As the process of slow insertion started again she could feel that this toy was bigger than the last, as it was slowly pressed into her. She tried to squirm but ended up getting lost in the methodically slow insertion process again. This one certainly felt bigger and was left in her slightly longer than the previous. 

She pants again as it’s pulled out, her pussy starting to feel more empty. Not long until another toy is inserted slowly and methodically. She moans getting lost in pleasure yet again. The toys seemed to be getting larger in size. When this one is fully in her however it isn’t taken out after a moment. She hears the sound of something being pumped then feels it. The toy inside her is expanding. A sense of panic goes through her, and she lets out a muffled complaint as she feels her pussy being stretched. It stops for a moment, and the gloved hand caressing her lower stomach.  She can feel an ache inside her at the size. There was a moments pause when all she could feel was the toy stretching her insides. Then the gloved hands started slowly touching her body, gliding over her stomach, up to her chest, delicately, slowly, teasingly, circling around her breasts. They softly grabbed her now aching tits, fondling then, giving her nipples a small pinch. She felt her breath coming fast again, the touches had distracted her from the tightness in her core, which began to decrease. There was another sound of the pump and she felt the toy inflate more inside her. She gasped at the stretching sensation. Her breathing was coming fast and her hips felt frozen with the size. The gloved hands began to touch her again, drifting up and down her thighs, her hips, her breast, distracting her with touches. This pattern of pumping and then touching went on once more. The toy being pumped once again, expanding her pussy. She cried out from behind the gag at the size. She could barely handle it. The hands were on her once more, a little more aggressive this time. The feeling of helplessness grew within her as she got lost in the touches and the feeling of being filled. Then suddenly the hands were gone and she was left laying there with the inflated toy deep in her. Her mind had nothing else to focus on in the darkness that was behind her blindfold, other than the feeling of helplessness, humiliation, how pathetic she felt about how wet she had become from being used like this. 

Lost in the thoughts that slowly drifted towards accepting her situation, she gasped as the toy suddenly deflated inside of her and was pulled out. She breathed heavily as her pussy was left empty again. This feeling wouldn’t last long and a few seconds later there was another toy lined up at her opening, she could tell just at the initial press that it was bigger than the last ones. She groaned as it was pushed in, stretching her slightly. The slow and agonizing, methodical insertion process started again and she was breathless by the time the toy sat flush inside her. It was left there, stretching her insides again, it didn’t feel as big as what the inflatable toy got to but it stretched her open nonetheless. She felt the gloved hands on her again exploring. She flinched as she felt something sharp rolling down her skin, sending a sensation of pain and pleasure down her body. She wiggled in her bonds, groaning at the sensation. 

After what felt like a long time the touching and teasing with a touch of pain, stopped and the toy was taken out slowly. Her mind was starting to break, starting to think this is all what she was made for, to be stretched open and used, to be humiliated and made into a pathetic thing. She felt the gloved hands on her breast suddenly, massaging her nipples, pinching them and suddenly there was a sharp pinch on one and then the other, as nipple clamps were secured on to her. She let out a cry through her stuffed mouth, trying to move away from the pain. 

Suddenly the next toy was at her opening, this one was far beyond the sizes of any of the others. She tried to flinch back as she felt the size of it line up with her opening. A gloved hand rested on her lower belly keeping her in place. She became distracted from the pain in her nipples as this toy was slowly stuffed into her. She didn’t know how it was going to fit, she felt the gloved hands assisting, opening her pussy lips up so the toy could slide in further. She groaned again as its tip managed to slip past her opening. It was large, extra large even, she couldn’t move her hips, it was so big. It was slowly and methodically pushed into her as far as it would go. Her pussy protested, aching at the sensation. Once the pushing stopped she was left there. The sensation of being filled mixed with the clamps on her nipples overwhelming her mind. 

She lay there for what felt like an hour, the aching in her body melting her mind. The gloved hands came back suddenly, she jumps as they fondle her tits, making her nipples ache. The clamps are suddenly removed and she gasps at the pain. The toy remains inside her as her nipples are caressed. 

Her pussy aches with fullness as she lays there, filled, while being touched and fondled. The toy is taken out slowly after a while more and she gasps at the emptiness. She’s been stretched so much she can feel the cool air in her pussy. She whimpers from behind the gag, not knowing what is coming next. The gloved hands are at her pussy again, one hand seems to hold her open as the other hand lines up at her entrance with all fingers lined up in a pinching shape. They slowly press into her, stretching her only slightly more, as the whole gloved hand slowly slips inside her. She can feel all the fingers splayed out exploring the new stretched size of her pussy. Then she can feel them make a fist inside her, locking itself in her as it begins to move back and forth, fisting her stretched pussy. Her back arches as she lets out a groan. It was overwhelming and humiliating. She felt so stretched and helpless as the gloved hand continued to fist her. 

After enough time to make her dazed from the sensation had passed, the hand slowed down inside her and slowly pulled out with a wet sound. She moans her hips bucking at the loss of being filled. There was a soft caress down her thigh, and after a moments pause there was something squishy lined up at her opening. In her mind she was relieved to fill the large hole that had been created out of her pussy. The softer object slid nicely into her pussy, filling the now aching sensation. She heard the sound of tape again and then felt whatever was in her being taped down to the sides of her pussy. 

She was so dazed it was hard to question what was in her now. She felt a mild sensation, a pressing inside the object in her. Then she felt one of the gloved hands on her thigh, then slight pressure inside the object inside her that slowly pressed in further, then she felt his body press up against hers. Realization dawned on her as he began to fuck the object shoved inside her. She has been made into a human fleshlight. She groaned and tried to buck her hips for sensation as he continued  to fuck the pocket pussy that has been secured inside her. Her pussy had been rendered useless with all the stretching, it could now only be used as a fleshlight holder. Humiliation, helplessness, and the pathetic feeling had grown so much inside her, that with each thrust she accepted her fate to be a thing to be used and abused for the pleasure of others. 

The wall of the gallery is blank and nearly featureless, save for a hole. A small hole, perhaps the size of the first joint of my pinkie, at countertop height. It’s not some rough thing poked through the drywall, it’s been carefully finished, smoothed off with a metal ring around it so that there are no rough edges. And I realize as we get closer that the wall isn’t drywall at all, but a very thin sheet of metal, carefully painted so that it looks quite ordinary.

“Is this where you’ll do the art?” I ask, not wanting to sound ignorant but my lack of knowledge about modern art showing through. I know that a water fountain can be art, in the right context, so why not a hole - but if the hole is the art, then what is he hiring a model for? And not just any model, either, a ballerina. He was very specific about this part. Perhaps the hole is a peephole and I’ll be doing something on the other side, some dance move or pose. But why put it down so low, if it’s meant to be looked through?

“In a way, yes. The audience will stand right where you are now to interact with the art,” he explains, gazing into the hole without looking at me. “I will be here too, of course, but I will not be interacting or interpreting. This piece is for them to ponder. I think you will understand better if I show you where your role comes in.”

With that he leads me to the door marked staff only. I have to step quickly to keep up with his much longer pace, as the artist is Dutch and rather tall, much taller than I am. He is a thin but athletic man with a shaved head and a short, well-groomed beard that makes it difficult to tell his age. His professional name is Interrogatory, a name which has popped up in conversations among my more artsy friends over the past couple of years alongside Banksy, Warhol, and Schneemann. I’ve never been very interested in visual art, which perked his attention when I admitted that to him.

He is apparently a good friend of the choreographer, or at least that’s who recommended me to him. As a professional ballerina, it’s not uncommon to do some side work during our down time, but nothing like this. I’m more of a toddler ballet class than a modern art gallery sort of girl. I’ve definitely never been behind the scenes of one, in a narrow maintenance corridor that leads to a small space behind the gallery wall. I hesitate to call it a room, at best it’s a widened corridor, but it has more than enough space to house an odd contraption that I can’t quite describe.

Interrogatory says nothing, merely stands back and nods to give me permission to investigate on my own. This is no peephole, the equipment is set up onto and against the wall so that little of it could be seen even with one’s eye right up against it. There’s a metal stool just below the hole. Just above it are a series of leather belts or straps which have been glued to the wall in two pieces so that the buckles and holes are on opposite sides, as though they’ll be strapping down some cargo to the wall. There are belts going out to the left and right too, narrower ones, one set right at the level of the stool and the other ones just above shoulder level. Then not far above those, two pieces of foam and a different, softer style of strap have been glued in place.

I realize suddenly that this is laid out in the shape of a human body doing the splits with arms outstretched. The person would sit on the stool, their legs held straight out to their sides, their chest pressed against the wall, arms similarly immobilized, and then the head… the two pieces of foam would cushion their chin and forehead so that they could breathe through their nose with their head strapped securely to the wall as well. It would be impossible to move like this, impossible to wriggle even an inch, held still as a statue against the hole.

It must be some kind of bizzare glory hole. But why is it so small? And why is the person strapped in facing forwards, assuming that the straps are meant for a woman -they’re certainly too small for the artist!- the vagina would be several inches too far back, the hole would be towards the front of the pubic area, right over the -

“Oh,” I say softly, my eyes going wide as I realize that I was thinking about things the wrong way around. This is a glory hole, of sorts, but not for the audience to poke their fingers through. The hole is at just the right height, just the right shape and size, for a clitoris.

“That would be a good name for this piece,” Interrogatory muses, rubbing his beard. “I hadn’t quite decided what to call it yet. The exhibition is next Saturday. We’re calling it Unrequited Sensation. Invites have been sent out, but I haven’t yet titled the installation itself.”

I try to collect myself, realizing that I’ve started to breathe hard. This space suddenly seems very small, and my nipples are very hard. I’ve never been claustrophobic, but I feel trapped back here with him. He senses my discomfort and raises his hands gently as though to show me his peaceful intentions. They don’t look much like an artist's hands, they look strong and calloused like he does a lot of work with them. Maybe he does, I’m not sure what his usual type of art is. Certainly not this.

“I don’t mean you any harm, Colette,” he reassures me softly. “I didn’t want to ruin the surprise. You reacted magnificently. I can only hope that the audience will find it so provoking. It’s invite only, so they won’t even realize it’s 18+ until they arrive. I’m sure you realize by now what this piece is: the clitoris. Your clitoris. Displayed in isolation. You won’t be able to see or hear the audience. They won’t be able to see or hear you. You will share sensations with them, but neither side will have any feedback from the other.”

“What do you mean, sensations?” I ask next.

“The audience will be allowed to touch it,” he replies. His Dutch accent is strong but he pronounces his words very crisply, very intentionally. He is a man who says nothing that he does not mean. “Clean medical-grade nitrile gloves will be provided. They can choose other items to touch it with. Please have a look.”

I barely even noticed the small table until he points to it. Its contents are innocuous enough: paintbrushes with varying styles of bristles, a feather duster, individual feathers from several types of bird, a blunt knitting needle, a spray bottle filled with water, various squares of cloth including silk and velvet and rough burlap, and some crystal wands sitting in copper bowls.

“The bowls will be filled with water: hot in one, iced in the other. Temperature is a very important sensation,” he explains, brushing past me to pick up the crystal wands. He hands me one and I’m surprised by how heavy it is, how dense. The surface is perfectly smooth and I can already tell that it will hold the temperature for a long time. “If they choose not to touch you, then you won’t be touched. If they choose to be gentle, it will be gentle. I will be there the whole night, and will not allow them to do anything to cause you injury, you have my word,” he says softly.

“I couldn’t do this,” I insist, handing the wand back to him. My cheeks are flushed, my heart beating faster, but I do my best to ignore that. I’m a professional dancer, not a whore! No doubt he requires someone very flexible to hold that difficult position for the duration of the exhibition, but surely there is no shortage of pole dancers in this city who would agree to it. I don’t want to admit how much the idea intrigues me, but I would never actually do it.

“That’s your choice to make,” he agrees. “You’re free to leave at any time.”

I hesitate for a moment, waiting for him to say something more. He doesn’t, merely looks at me expectantly. He isn’t trying to wheedle or cajole me into it. No begging. No forcing. It’s like he expects me to want to do this. I almost walk away, but something compels me to stay, some force I can’t exactly explain. Morbid curiosity? It’s deeper than that.

“Why don’t you try it out?” he suggests once it becomes clear I’m not leaving. “If you don’t like it, we can stop at any time.”

I lick my lips, feeling almost dizzy at the thought. I’ve never wanted to try anything more in my life. “Do I have to be naked?” I ask nervously.

“No, not completely. You will need to be bottomless, so we can test the fit around your clitoris,” he explains calmly. “But the rest can stay on.” He turns around to give me some privacy, though it’s obviously little more than a gesture of good faith.

I can’t believe what I’m doing as I unzip my skirt. I haven’t even had a boyfriend in more than a year, and now I’m getting nearly naked in front of a strange man. A strange man who is going to use my clitoris as art. I don’t even know his name and I’ve told no one where I am. This could go wrong in a thousand different terrible ways, but I’m too horny and curious to care. I strip my panties off too, shocked to find them wet. Not wanting him to know, I wipe myself off with my panties and tuck them inside the skirt, pushing it aside with my foot.

“Do you need any help climbing onto the stool?” he asks me without turning around.

“No,” I answer quickly, hopping up onto it. The metal seat is cold against my skin. I take a deep breath and spread my legs. I can’t quite do perfect splits without any warm up, but I can get pretty close. The harder part is balancing, with the stool so close to the wall. I tell him quietly, “I think I’ll need some help getting into position.”

He turns around and steps up to me. “I can wear gloves, if you would prefer I don’t touch your bare skin,” he offers. I consider that for a moment, but shake my head. He nods, and I see his nostrils flare for a moment. He must be able to smell my pussy, I realize, and turn my face back to the wall as my cheeks burn anew.

He takes the straps at waist level and begins to put them around me. “I won’t do the belts tight, in the beginning,” he explains. “These are just to help you keep your balance as we get you lined up, so you can’t fall. You may wish to grab the ones at arm height for leverage.”

I take his advice as he does up the straps going up and down my back. This lets me open my legs more, until I can feel the metal wall against my pussy. “I’ll strap your legs next, still loosely,” he explains in a calming tone. His hands are firm but gentle as he secures one leg at a time to the wall. I can still wiggle, but my weight is slowly being taken off of the stool and onto my limbs, pushing me against the wall. It’s exhilarating, and more than a little scary.

“I’ll need to spread your labia and put your clitoris through the hole,” he explains next. “Is that okay?” I can barely breathe, my throat is much too tight to reply. I nod. “I need you to respond verbally, Colette,” he orders me gently.

“Yes,” I breathe.

Satisfied by this, I feel his hands on my thighs as he stands behind me. I wonder if he’s hard. I can’t tell if it would be better or worse if he is - worse in terms of professionalism, sure, but there’s something humiliating about being this wet if it’s just business to him. Does he think I’m pretty? Is he going to play with my clit once it’s through the wall like the audience will? His slow, steady touch comes around to my pussy lips, and I can no longer think of anything else.

I’m touching the wall, but there’s still more than enough wiggle room for him to get both hands between it and my body. I feel him reaching along the wall with one hand to find the hole, and then the other parts my pussy lips. I hold my breath as his finger explores down until it passes over my clit, so engorged and sensitive that I startle. “Please hold still,” he commands in the same calm, dispassionate tone. I do my best to comply as he considers something for a moment, then removes the hand that was on the hole.

I hear him messing with the lever that adjusts the stool’s height. Very carefully and very, very slowly he raises it a centimeter or so. He pinches my clit between his fingers ever-so-gently and guides it into the hole, then withdraws his hand. I can feel the cold air on it, the light breeze of the big, empty gallery space, and hope desperately that we’re still alone in the building.

“Very good,” he says, but I’m not sure if he’s referring to me or his own handiwork. “I’m going to tighten the straps now.” He does them in turns, as tight as they’ll go, forcing my hips up against the wall as firmly as possible. They’re wide and soft enough not to bite into my skin badly, but there are lots of them. Three on either thigh, two on each calf, one at the ankle. Then across my back, they start just above my thighs and continue up from there, one every few inches. He tightens the ones at my hips and waist severely, but leaves a bit of breathing room at the chest. I can’t take a full breath, but I can get close enough that I don’t mind.

“I will do your arms now,” he states. Left first, then right, multiple straps, tightened in turns until I can’t even wiggle. My head, hands, and feet are free to move, but that’s it. I’m utterly immobilized, defenseless, bare-assed in front of a total stranger. This is not how I expected my Tuesday to go.

“For the exhibition, you’ll need to be completely nude,” he explains to me as he double-checks the bonds. He has a measuring tape and a notebook, and is taking careful notes about… well, something. “It’s essential that these straps be as tight as possible. The exhibition will run from seven until ten, and then there’s an hourlong VIP event afterwards. The belts will loosen up a bit after four hours, so we have to do it right in the first place.”

I nod. “That makes sense,” I agree. I would agree to anything right now, especially if it would make him touch my clit. I’m hyper-aware of it now, despite it being in a different room to the rest of me. There's something about not being able to see it, not knowing who could be looking at it, that excites me terribly.

“The crux of this art piece is the utter lack of communication between yourself and the audience,” he continues explaining. “They can’t have any sort of feedback about how their gaze and their touch makes you feel. On the day of, I’ll put your feet in some lace-up shoes and superglue the shoes to the wall, so you can’t tap it with your feet or scratch it with your toenails. Your hands will be in soft gloves, also superglued. Is that alright, Colette?”

“I don’t mind wearing gloves or shoes for four hours,” I reply, trying to sound casual like this is an ordinary job interview and my throbbing sex organ on display isn’t the reason we’re both here. “There won’t be any issues getting me free afterwards?”

“I tested it myself,” he reassures me. “Once I remove the straps, you’ll easily be able to slide your hands and feet out.” He pauses until I nod to show comprehension. “As for your voice, we can’t have any accidental gasps or moans reaching the audience. You’ll have to wear a gag.” Interrogatory has finished his notes and measurements, and I can feel him fiddling around with something, but I can’t see what it is.

I blush a little. I’ve seen those stupid-looking ball gags in sex shops once or twice, when I went in to replace my vibrator. “Alright,” I agree, a little more reluctant.

“This is a panel gag with an inflatable mouth piece,” he explains as he holds up an odd device, all leather straps and buckles except for a small rubber ball. “This pumps up with air to fill your mouth, eliminating virtually all sound.” He pumps it a few times to demonstrate how the rubber piece grows. “You’ll still be able to make some small sounds through your nose, but the noise from the gallery should cover it. Meanwhile, in order to prevent you from hearing anything, I’ll have some soundproof headphones playing soft white noise. The foam against your face will, clearly, prevent you from seeing anything. You’ll be in a state of sensory deprivation, except for your clitoris, for four hours.”

Oh god. I feel my pussy clench and hold the kegels for a long time at the thought of that. “That all sounds fine,” I say breathlessly.

“I know you’re probably worried about the safety of this, about how I’ll know if something goes wrong,” he continues. I honestly hadn’t even thought about that yet, but I nod anyway. I should be worried about that, I guess. “I have a pulse oximeter, just like hospitals use. We’ll cut the glove to fit your finger into it. It’s bluetooth connected to my phone, and will ring it at full volume if your pulse or oxygen levels drop at any time. So if you have a medical event or even a panic attack, I can be back here in just a few seconds. You won’t be in any danger, especially not of discovery. You can arrive through the back door into the staff area. Wear a mask if you don’t want to risk being identified by one of them, though they’re all consummate professionals. The door to this room will be locked from the outside, and only I will have the key.”

This all sounds reasonable, or at least I think it does. It’s so hard to think clearly like this. It’s like every nerve in my body is focused on my clit, I have nothing left over for critical thinking. I think he can tell, because he smiles at me and doesn’t demand an answer. “I’ll just test the fit of the head straps and headphones now, okay? Then I’ll travel around to the gallery room and test the fit of your clitoris while you test if the headphones are truly noise canceling.”

This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. “Yes,” I agree, a bit more enthusiastically than I was intending. If he notices, he says nothing, just sets to work. I put my chin and forehead against the foam, which comes down low enough that I have to close my eyes. Interrogatory smoothes my hair back and places the straps over my head, tightening them down until my face is pushed into the foam. I can’t quite feel the metal wall against the tip of my nose, but I can tell it’s not far, only a millimeter or two away. I can breathe easily, but that’s all my face is really good for anymore. I can’t talk with my mouth pressed up against it like this.

Last are the headphones. They’re big and clunky, cupping around my ears. I can faintly hear the sound of the artist rustling around in his coat, and then the white noise starts. It’s pleasant, not scratchy static like some but a gentle sound like sand falling in a light wind. In a way, it’s like being at the spa, zoning out on the massage bed. But my clit has never ached for attention like this at the spa.

It feels like a very long time passes like this, but it’s impossible to tell. The white noise is constantly shifting but not according to any time or pattern. I can’t hear it looping either. I wiggle experimentally, but despite the artist’s reservations about my clothing, it doesn’t seem to have won me any space to struggle. I think that I test the bonds for a very long time, and yet when I finish nothing has happened yet. I wonder what he’s doing, if he’s taking notes on that little notepad of his while staring right at my captive clit. Is he measuring it? Or is he somewhere else entirely, maybe having a smoke or a coffee or a conversation with one of the gallery workers?

Oh god, what if he’s having a conversation with all of them? What if they’re all gathered in the other room, staring at my clit, making comments about its size and color and the way it must be glistening moistly in the overhead light, and -

And then he touches it. I’m so startled that I try to jump, but though all my muscles tense I don’t so much as budge. I can’t tell if I gasped or moaned, or if the air in my throat was silent and it’s all in my head. Not being able to hear yourself properly is a mindfuck. He’s gently pulling at my delicate skin, making sure that everything is through the hole. The slight constricting pressure of the ring has retracted the hood halfway, so the glans is somewhat exposed. I wonder if this is intentional, or if my clit is somewhat bigger than he planned for. In any case, the hole is just big enough for the diminutive organ and nothing else. There are no labia minora poking through, my urethral and vaginal openings are well behind the wall, there is only my clit available to him.

I want him to play with it. I want him to rub it, stroke it, maybe lick or suck on it, but his touch is businesslike, almost brusque. He does as he said and checks the fit, nothing more. I wonder if he can tell how desperately I wish for more, but if he can, he does not indulge it. Apparently satisfied with the fit, he leaves me alone again. I miss his touch, his voice, everything. My desire to cum is strong but, after a few minutes, my nerves are even worse.

He is coming back to release me, isn’t he? It’s taking an awfully long time. Maybe he had to use the bathroom or something, or maybe he’s still taking notes. He could be back in this private room right now and I just don’t know it. He could be checking out my bare ass. He could even be masturbating to me right now, and I would never know!

Just as my mind is starting to run away from me, the headphones come off. “It’s a perfect fit,” he confirms in a satisfied tone. “Let’s get you down from there.” He frees my head first, then my arms, then my legs. I’m amazed by how fast it goes, the straps unbuckling and releasing me in a matter of a few moments each. He saves my back for last, as those are the ones holding me up. Even though I haven’t been up there long, or at least I dont think I have, I fall backwards into his arms, too stiff and weak to support myself at first.

He supports me, turns me around so I can sit normally on the stool, then takes off his coat and covers my lower half with it. I appreciate both the warmth and the modesty, more than a little ashamed of how wet I am. I can feel my own juices against my ass, having run all over the stool.

“How long did I have the headphones on for?” I ask cautiously.

“About four and a half minutes,” he replies casually. Noticing my shock, he smiles patiently. “Did you notice some time dilation with the sensory deprivation?” he asks me. “That’s not uncommon. Part of the experience, really.”

Part of the experience? I can’t tell if it’s the best part or the worst. Four hours of it would be torture… but by the sound of it, I’ll probably be touched for a lot of it, and the touching was a very small part of those four and a half minutes. That means it could go by a lot faster. Unless they choose not to touch me! Then it could feel like an eternity. I’m so conflicted.

“With the event beginning next Saturday at seven, could you be here before six?” he asks casually. “A little earlier would be better, of course…”

I don’t really remember the rest of our conversation. I agreed to be there like an eager little slut. I think I would have sold him my soul if he’d put an offer on it. Maybe I did - the contract was long and, though he explained some parts about my anonymity and legal indemnity and whatnot, I definitely did not read or comprehend it myself. That was pretty dumb. Letting him tie me up in the same place is pretty dumb.

I rushed home afterwards, flushed and nervous on the train as though everyone around me could tell that I’m soaking wet under my smart, businesslike apparel. No one pays me much mind, I’m just another ordinary woman in this city on the outside, but on the inside I feel like I’m about to burst. I don’t even bother to take my clothes off when I get home, I just whip my panties off at lightning speed and get the vibrator.

I’m cumming within a few seconds, so hard I cry out into my pillow like the needy slut I am. When I put my vibrator away I check my phone and see that, somehow, three hours have passed since I arrived for the interview. The train home is only 12 minutes! Even accounting for the two block walk and time waiting at the station, it somehow lasted two and a half hours. I’m shocked, uncertain if it all really did take that long, or if he left me in that sensory deprivation much longer than four and a half minutes.

Strangely, the thought of being lied to, of being left with my clit out and the rest of me completely ignored for an hour or more, gets me horny again right away. I bring the vibrator back against my clit and orgasm hard as I imagine him walking away for the night after the exhibition, locking the door and leaving me tied up there, aroused and unsatisfied all night long.

Those thoughts haunt me for the next ten days but, strangely, I don’t get the vibrator out again. It feels like I’m horny all the time, and I find myself enjoying that more than I thought I would. I have to wear panty liners to practice with the ballet troop so that I don’t leave an incriminating wet spot on my leotards.

The choreographer asks how my interview went, but I lie and tell her that his exhibition is on a date that I already made plans for. She seems a bit disappointed by this, and I wonder if she has any clue what she signed me up for. Interrogatory is a distant friend, from what I understand, and I somehow doubt he’s told many people what he has planned. The shock value is crucial.

I’m shocked enough myself when the day of the exhibition rolls around and I wake up half an hour before my alarm, as excited as a kid on Christmas. I putter around my house, watering my plants and worrying about what outfit I’ll wear even though it’s completely irrelevant. I want Interrogatory to think I’m beautiful. I want him to want me. I want to know that he’s frustrated and horny too, albeit not to nearly the same extent that I will be.

I pick out a tight-fitting white sweater with a heart-shaped cutout over my cleavage, and wear it with no bra. I pair that with a blush pink stretchy skirt that clings to shapely ass and thighs, showing off the thick, defined muscle that comes with my occupation. I decide against stockings and pick out a pair of chunky nude pumps to go with, leaving my long brunette hair loose. I have coffee for breakfast and go out for a light lunch later in the afternoon, so I won’t be too hungry or too bloated when the event rolls around. There’s a Thai fusion place a few blocks from my flat that does a delicious avocado, cucumber, and mint salad with ginger dressing that I usually get before performances, so I go there for lunch.

Judging by the way men react when I pass, most of them trying to pretend like they aren’t watching but a few openly checking me out, I feel I’ve picked my outfit well. I take the train over to the arts district a couple of hours early to avoid the evening rush, but it’s still standing room only on a beautiful Saturday like this and I’m acutely aware of how close my hips are to the faces of the men in the seats. I wonder if any of them can smell how wet I am.

Once in the right part of town, I try to kill some time at the library near the gallery. It’s impossible to focus on a book or even a magazine, and I spend most of my time daydreaming. Who’s been invited to this exhibition? Obviously there will be some press to report on things. There could be other artists, rich buyers, celebrities, politicians - the possibilities all twist my stomach. He’s world-famous, no doubt the VIP event at the end will be very exclusive.

I show up at five thirty, though only because I feel like coming any earlier would seem desperate. I ring the buzzer at the back entrance of the gallery and, much to my surprise and relief, Interrogatory himself opens the door. “Thank you for coming early,” he says politely as he whisks me inside. There are a few employees in these areas, but none of them pay much attention. I suppose they’re used to artists bringing guests around. I’m glad I’m still wearing my face mask, and that I don’t have to make eye contact with any of them.

He shows me to the restroom first and I’m glad for the opportunity to relieve and clean myself right before we begin. I remove the panty liner, shocked by the sheer amount of natural lubricant on it. My pussy has been leaking like a faucet all afternoon.

I can feel my heart racing as we head into the room behind the gallery wall. The hole room. He locks the door behind us, but I can hear people moving around in the main gallery. “I’ve put a curtain in front of the hole,” the artist explains. “No one will know what’s happening until I reveal it. Are you ready to begin?”

I’ve been ready for more than a week now. “Yes,” I answer, sliding my skirt off. He doesn’t turn around this time, but he doesn’t leer either. He puts his hand out and takes my skirt, folding it neatly and setting it aside. My panties come next. This is as naked as I was last time with him, just him and me and my shaven pussy. If it phases him, being alone with a bottomless woman, he doesn’t show it on the outside.

I kick my pumps off and hand those over next. Then I slowly remove my sweater, which he folds and adds to the pile without looking my way. Last comes by bra, a delicate thing of sheer material with just enough lace to tantalize rather than conceal. If he has any feelings about it at all, I can’t tell from his face, and I have just enough self control not to check his crotch for a bulge.

We don’t talk during the setup this time. I hop into position and he does up the straps. It feels like a couple of them have been moved around, as there’s now a wide band at the narrowest part of my waist, which encourages my hips to just the right angle so that my clit is the furthest-forwards part of me.

I make a small, breathless sound of pleasure when he first grabs my clit, but I manage to bite it off. His hand pauses for a moment and I don’t even dare to breathe. Is he going to chastise me for my unprofessionalism? Kick me out? Play with it further? The possibilities swim around in my mind.

None of them are correct. He guides my clit through the hole and finishes strapping me in like nothing happened, tightening everything down severely except for my head. He slides the shoes onto my feet, some knockoff converse-looking things from a big box store, and tightens the laces so I can’t wiggle in them. Then comes the superglue. It bonds my feet to the wall in a matter of moments and once it’s done I can barely wiggle my toes. My right hand is next, slid into a soft but tight fabric glove which is then tightened at the wrist before each individual finger is glued to the wall, held down until the bond is permanent.

On the left hand he slides the glove on, but the ring finger has been cut out. He slides that finger into a pulse oximeter which, like the glove, is then superglued to the wall. “How does it feel?” he asks me when my body is secured.

“Good,” I answer, surprising myself with how true it is. I’ve seen bondage porn before, but nothing about the big, fake tits and poorly-faked moans and fat old men with chemical erections ever appealed to me. This is nothing like that. Actually being bound, having my movements restricted until my only freedom is the freedom to breathe, is an incredible turn-on.

“I’m going to put the gag on you now. It may take you a moment to adjust, so just remember to breathe. I’m right here, and the pulse oximeter is keeping tabs on you. No matter what it feels like, you won’t suffocate,” he says. I don’t know if that’s reassuring or terrifying. No matter what it feels like? I didn’t think the gag would be an intense experience!

Despite my trepidation, I obediently open my mouth and accept the rubber inflatable piece into my oral cavity. He fiddles with the straps for a moment, and they tighten around my head as he secures the panel gag in place. Then he begins to inflate it. After two pumps I can feel the pressure on my tongue. Three, and it’s starting to run out of room to grow sideways so it pushes backwards. Four pumps and it’s at the back of my mouth, and starting to get uncomfortable. He gives it a fifth pump and I grunt, trying to communicate, but he pumps it a sixth time anyway. Now it’s nestled against my tonsils. I don’t quite gag, but it’s close. I can feel the air being restricted slightly, rushing past it.

“Try to slow your breathing,” he recommends, running his hands over my hair, pulling it back away from my face. It’s easier said than done! I’m feeling a bit panicky like this, utterly immobilized and now with a device that makes it hard to breathe, hard to swallow, impossible to make more than small, pathetic sounds through my nose. His hands are soothing, though, and after a few minutes of having my hair stroked I’m feeling better, breathing easier.

The pulse oximeter helps - it might have felt scary, but with that on I know there’s no actual danger. When he grabs the head straps, I feel ready again. So nervous that I’m taut as a violin string, but ready. He doesn’t bother to ask this time, he just starts to strap my head down. I close my eyes and embrace the comfortable darkness of the foam against my eyelids. He works quickly, and before I know it that final range of motion too is removed. I truly can’t move a muscle now.

“Enjoy the exhibition,” he says to me just as the headphones come down over my ear. I make some small sound, though I can’t quite tell if it’s agreement or a plea, and then the white noise starts. I feel like I’m floating on a cloud. It’s nice and cool back here, not so cold to make my muscles tight but very pleasant. The metal wall I’m pressed up against has warmed to my body temperature, and the stool is taking so little of my weight that its hard surface isn’t uncomfortable.

Really, the only thing missing is some sort of stimulation on my clit, and I’m not waiting long for that. He adjusts it in much the same way he did last time, making sure to pull as much of the clitoris itself through while leaving my hood partly retracted to make me more exposed, more vulnerable. The hole feels a bit smaller than last time, the fit tighter, but I’m pretty sure that’s just because my clit has been aroused and engorged for more than a week and a half now without any relief. It feels like it’s grown by at least twenty-five percent, and is twice as sensitive. I almost cum just from his light tugging and rubbing.

Then he is done, and I am left alone. I have no sense of time, and also no clue what time we began. I didn’t think to check my phone before setting my purse aside, nor can I accurately estimate how long it took him to put me in this position. I arrived at five thirty, so if it took an hour then I have thirty minutes to wait. Could it have taken longer? Shorter? I can’t tell.

My mind wanders, but never far from the topic of my clit. It’s aching with need, desperate to be touched. Has he revealed it yet? Are there dozens of eyes on my little nub? Are there press photographers there to snap pictures of the artist posing next to it? Does he smile?

Someone touches it. Their fingers are big and warm, a man’s fingers, but not as gentle or precise as the artist’s. Also, they wear gloves. He did not. This person’s explorations are brief and hesitant, almost like he’s just making sure the clit is real and not some clever silicone copy. He pulls his fingers away and I wonder if he’s reporting on the legitimacy of the art to the room. What do they think of it? It must be a pathetic sight, just a clit in isolation, all aroused and just begging to be toyed with.

The second set of fingers are small and cold, with long nails. A woman’s fingers. She pulls the hood back, as though curious to see the entirely of my clit, but doesn’t play with it. I want to moan, but the gag won’t let me. She holds the hood back for a while and I desperately want to know what she’s thinking, what she’s feeling. Does she want to be in my place? Or is she better than that, a woman with self-respect who would never be groped by a roomful of strangers?

Her fingers too leave me behind, but I am not alone long. A light sensation brushes across my clit from all sides at once and I realize this must be the feather duster, but my clit can’t be seen while they’re using it and they can’t see how it makes my nipples pebble up or my pussy clench. That’s probably why whoever it is just makes a few passes with it, then retreats.

A single feather comes next. I think it’s a feather - I can feel a faint rasping sensation, like the individual barbs moving across the glans clitoris, and then they stroke the flat edge of it up the underside of the clit. This almost melts me, and I wonder if Interrogatory has his phone out, if he can see how my heart is racing. The feather toys me for a while, then it too leaves.

I’m left alone for a while, well and truly worked up by now. Then there are fingers, new fingers I think, but it’s hard to tell. They pinch my clit with no attempt to pleasure it, just squeezing. I try to cry out in sudden pain, but the gag swallows the sound. I come back to reality abruptly, realizing that I was promised no injuries, but not promised there would be no pain. I’ve never had anyone hurt my precious girlpearl before, never really imagined it was a possibility, yet here we are. I agreed to this, now I must take what is offered.

The pincher quickly grows bored of their little game and moves on. Next there is something hot pressed against me, which I can only assume to be the crystal wand. It doesn’t quite burn me but it is hot enough to be unpleasant when held in one place for too long, but luckily its wielder moves the wand around in little circles, warming my clit from all sides. Unlike the others they don’t grow bored quickly and I’m starting to properly zone out, sinking into the delicious warm, smooth sensation of the crystal wand coaxing blood back into my clit. My world is shrunk down to the size of my bean. They can’t see my body; I can only barely feel it.

Someone picks up a square of cloth next. Maybe denim? They hold it taut and rub it over my clit, almost like they’re trying to polish it with slow, deliberate strokes. I can feel the individual threads, the rough texture. It feels good at first, but after a few passes my delicate clitoris is starting to get a bit raw, and they don’t stop with a few. I imagine it must be quite an angry shade of red, still unsatisfied when they finish but now very sensitized.

The fingers that find it afterwards capitalize on this fact, rubbing it quick and hard. They can’t judge my reaction to improve their technique, but they clearly know what they’re doing, and it doesn’t take long for an orgasm to build, and build, and just when I think I’m about to cum the fingers release.

They do this repeatedly, rubbing me to the edge but never over it. It’s utterly maddening, especially after so many days of denial. I pray for them to slip up, to make a mistake and grant me some relief, but they’re good. Too good. Eventually they start to use the cooling wand to back me down from the edge in between, and this lets them draw out the process, edging me even longer.

I love and hate this at the same time. It feels amazing, and amazingly frustrating. Eventually they set the wand aside and do not pick it up again, and I am left alone. My night is hazy from there, a blur of feathers ad fingers and fabrics. All fun, all frustrating. They work me up to the edge and smack or flick my clit until it relents and softens, only to engorge it all over again in another manner. Eventually the play sessions are fewer and further between until, finally, I am without touch for an extended period.

I listen for the door, for footsteps, for any sign of human contact, but I am left listening.

For anyone who has read my previous series, this will have some similarities but also be a bit different. If you have enjoyed my stories, I hope you enjoy this offering. I welcome any comments, suggestions, or messages. Sorry for my absence, life gets in the way of writing stories and inspiration at times.

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Marisa stared at the dice.

One could say, based on how the dice almost constantly occupied her thoughts, that the dice stared at her.

She had received them from her doorstep nearly a month ago. Two red opaque dice inside a tiny box. Apart from the dice, there was a note with a short URL. She considered just throwing them out but instead she decided to go to the website.

As she read, she laughed at the absurdity on the screen. It said that the dice had incredible power and would control her body. It noted the rules of the dice. That they would decide whether she would be permitted to orgasm. And that there would be punishments for when she fails in the game.

Marisa was single and she quite enjoyed single life. At 23, she had a terrific job as a consultant, a loft apartment in a trendy downtown neighborhood, and a hot petite body. Marisa would be quite a catch, if she ever decided to let anyone catch her. She was used to getting what she wanted in life. It had been a few years since she had to answer to anyone and even then, she had her parents wrapped around her little finger.

She was used to being showered with presents and attention. She was used to getting her way. While Marisa seemed to many like a nice girl, she was really a slut. She enjoyed finding the hottest bad boy at the club and making sure her legs were wrapped around him by the end of the night. Once she had cum from his attention, she was sure to toss him aside.

She loved to cum. She enjoyed feeling in control. There wasn’t a part of her that ever wished to be dominated or to submit to anyone. That’s one of the reasons the dice were so absurd to her. Oh sure, the idea of these small objects having any power was stupid too. But even more so, was the fact that they would ever have any power over Marisa, a girl who is in charge of everything in her life.

She kept reading the site though. Perhaps due to curiosity. The rules were spelled out in detail:

“You may take the dice out of the box but do not roll or touch them again until you have finished reading these instructions.

As noted, the dice have tremendous power and will control your orgasms. You may be used to getting what you want, including cumming whatever you please, but this will change. If you roll the right number, you will be permitted to cum that day. If not, you will be assigned a task, a punishment, to complete that day and will not be allowed to cum.

For today, the only number that will allow you to cum is the number 2. There are 11 possible totals on the two dice, two can only be achieved through snake eyes. You may choose to roll, you may get lucky and then you will be able to cum, and it will be the most mind blowing orgasm you have ever felt. Hit any other possible combination and you lose. Then you will be assigned a task to complete that day. The next day, regardless of whether you won or lost, you will start over with the number 2 as your only winning number.

You may also choose to not roll the dice that day. If you do that, then the next day your winning numbers will be 2 and 3. More options, better odds. Every day you wait to roll, your odds improve by adding the next number. But of course, you cannot cum the days you do not roll. However, as mentioned after any day you roll, win or lose, your winning number for that day will always start back at the number 2. Consider that an additional punishment for even taking the risk of rolling.

Oh, and no practice rolls, no playing with or touching the dice unless you are rolling them. As mentioned, the dice are powerful, you cannot trick the dice.”

Marisa read the instructions with some amount of anger, especially with the line ‘you may be used to getting what you want’. She had no clue who had set this up and what they were trying to pull, but to her, it was a pile of BS. She grabbed the dice and went stomping through the kitchen to the trash. She opened it, then paused. No… she could throw them out, but instead she was going to prove this was all a load of crap. She walked back to her living room and rolled the dice on her large coffee table.

A two and a six. Eight.

She made her way to the bedroom, stripped, and pulled out her favorite vibrator. She turned it on, the amount of vibration could easily be controlled both for the dildo that she inserted into her wet pussy but also for the tongue, the extension that rubbed perfectly against her swollen clit. She wasn’t turned on by the instructions or the thought of being controlled. She was turned on by rage. In her state, she didn’t think it would take long to cum. The dildo felt large inside of her, the vibrations were stimulating her most sensitive spots. She pulled on her nipples as the toy brought her closer to orgasm. She got close, very close. But somehow she just couldn’t cum. She tried turning it to the highest setting, she tried penetrating herself faster and deeper, she tried pressing the tongue down hard against her clit. Nothing worked.

She figured she would have cum in about five or ten minutes but after 45 minutes, she was sweaty, tired, even more frustrated, and even more angry.

She went back to her computer thinking maybe she could distract herself and then resume. She noticed she had two emails from ‘thedice’. She clicked on the first email.

“You lost - Your punishment is to flash a stranger your tits in public.”

Fuck that, Marisa thought. She opened the second, most recent, email.

“By now you have attempted to cum. It is only natural. You don’t believe in the power of the dice and you want to exert your control over your body. But you couldn’t cum. You may want to start getting used to the fact that you are powerless.”

The emails made her angry. But it also scared her. This was no longer just some stupid prank from someone who clearly knew her email and where she lived. They sent her the emails after she rolled the dice. They knew she lost. Either that or it was a good guess. Even if Marisa didn’t believe in the power of the dice, she wasn’t believing that any of this was simply a coincidence.

Marisa decided to head to the gym to take her mind off of it. A good run and some workout music would hopefully clear her head. It worked pretty well to distract her until the next morning when she attempted to cum again. Nothing. She tried even longer than the prior day but no matter what she used and how she touched herself, she just could not reach orgasm. She was never one to edge herself but she was sure that was exactly what she was doing.

Once again angry, she marched to the living room, picked up the two dice and rolled them.

Six and six. Twelve. The furthest she could have rolled away from a two.

She opened her laptop to see if a new email had arrived. It didn’t take more than a few moments for it to show up.

“You failed to complete your punishment. Of course you got 12, the dice are never going to let you cum if you don’t follow the rules.

Also, you lost again. Your punishment is to insert an object in your ass while you edge yourself, again. And you must do your punishment from yesterday.”

Marisa picked up the dice and rolled them again. Twelve. She rolled them a third time, twelve. She repeated the roll over and over. Twelve, always twelve. She no longer thought the emails were a coincidence, they knew she was edging her in an attempt to cum. And she was starting to believe that the dice might have some power. The odds of rolling twelve so many times was nearly impossible.

As Marisa reached for the two dice yet again, she stopped. She didn’t need to roll them again to know the outcome. Her mind was consumed by three things, these small objects were somehow powerful enough to control her body, that she was no longer in charge of whether she could cum, and that she had two punishments she would need to complete that day.

This is the longest story I have written in a single part. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Feel free to let me know your thoughts.

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The name of the new business downtown was The Hubarn.

It seemed like a rather stupid name, but for those in the know, it described exactly the tastes it catered to. For the majority of visitors, they saw a small, quaint museum of tractors and other farm equipment. For a special group of kinky individuals, they were allowed into the back rooms. Of course, back rooms makes it sound like it is a small area of The Hubarn. Quite the opposite, the massive size of the private facility ensures there is plenty of space for the VIP section.

The Hubarn was a business that sold willing females to be hucows. Willing was key to their business model, city officials could happily turn a blind eye to the unsavory practices so long as there was appropriate paperwork. There were always a sufficient number of women who would consider signing up. There were two options for the potential cows, the play option and the full option. ‘Play’ was simple, a woman could sign up, be graded as a potential cow, and go through a mock auction. At the end, she would be free to go. The ‘full’ option involved everything the ‘play’ auction included, except at the end, the cow was sold to the highest bidder.

The play option cost $50; however, the full option was completely free. Hubarn made their profit on selling these women, so they wanted to incentivize women to choose that option. In fact, the consent form was rather explicit in outlining exactly how one could switch to the full option during the process.

For bidders, typically men, they came for the auction. Each potential bidder paid $500 for the pleasure of having a paddle in order to bid. Prior to the announcement of each cow, there would be an indication of whether the item was a real auction or a mock one. All women were auctioned in the same room, so as to make it somewhat more real for those that choose the play auction. In reality, it wasn’t real at all. Some men didn’t like having their time wasted, others were fine with a few playful bids, but everyone wanted those auctions to end quickly. After all, the bidders paid good money to bid and in many cases, ended up walking away without a cow. The fake auctions tended to end at a couple hundred dollars but the real auctions tended to result in five or six figure bids.

Andrea fantasized about being a hucow. It was a fetish she had obsessed about for years. She was aware that the museum, tour, and petting zoo were just a front. Although, she secretly hoped there was a petting zoo in the back as well. Andrea had come for the play option. Bill, her boyfriend, had come along as well. He hated the whole idea of the place and really didn’t want his girlfriend to have any part in it; however, she had been talking about it since before its opening and had been begging him to let her go. She didn’t need her boyfriend’s permission, but she still wanted it. Bill also knew she didn’t need him to permit her to go and decided it might be better if he did. Plus he could be there in case she was subjected to anything that wasn’t in the contract.

They left their phones in the trunk of their car before entering. They knew the VIP area had a strict policy on phones/videos/pictures. They walked in through the main entrance and approached the ticket counter. For Andrea, the thrill started from the moment she walked through the doors. She gleefully spoke the private code phrase to the worker at the counter. He directed them to a hallway where another representative was waiting for them. Once inside the VIP area, the contracting began. It took nearly an hour for the rather attractive college-aged blonde to walk them both through the process in brief and the contract in great detail. It was explained throughout that, if a woman were to wish to switch to the full option at any point, up to and including during the auction, that she may do so, without having to sign a new contract. Nearing the end of the discussion of the 23 page contract, for which the idea of switch was raised multiple times, Bill spoke.

“That’s NOT going to happen.” Bill stated with confidence. Their contracting agent, Cindi, looked in Bill’s general direction, refusing to make eye contact. Partners of a potential cow always tended to be trouble. Some agents tended to try to flirt with the man in order to distract him. Cindi preferred to pay as little attention to them as possible. Her goal was getting the woman to consent and also to ensure that she understood that she could change her mind. In fact, Cindi hoped that her sales pitch helped persuade Andrea towards the full option. Agents that had women switch during the process automatically doubled their commission.

“It might, Bill.” Andrea replied in a suggestive tone. “Besides, there can’t be too many guys that bid on the women. You could always just bid to make sure you get me back.” Andrea was half-joking making this suggestion but Bill wasn’t laughing. The last thing he wanted to do was spend real money “winning” back his girlfriend.

“She’s right, the auction tends to be a bit of a bust. Not too many people even know this section exists yet,” Cindi added. She grabbed a small red paddle from under the counter. “Here, with this paddle, you can bid on your girl. You are free to check out the facilities while you wait for the auction to start.” Cindi hoped that this reassurance would be sufficient to shut him up. She was reaching the end of the contract and just wanted Andrea to sign.

Cindi was able to complete the rest of her spiel before handing a pen to Andrea. Bill had planned to suggest that they talk about it before a final decision was made, but Andrea had already scribbled her signature. With that, two well dressed men came to escort them. Bill was escorted into a special area where the partners of women are permitted to wait. Andrea was escorted into a small locker room.

“Disrobe,” her handler said. His voice was monotone, as if he had said this to hundreds of other women. They were initially alone in the locker room, but another woman and her handler entered as Andrea began to take off her shirt and jeans. “You may put your items in locker 21.” Andrea put her clothing into the locker dressed in only her lacy bra and thong.

“Everything,” her handler said in the same monotone way. The other two individuals in the room snickered at her modesty. Andrea hadn't necessarily expected that she would be completely naked. After removing the rest of her garments, her handler attached a collar with a bell on it, it was a reminder that she was no longer a human but a hucow. He also attached a red flag to her body. It was long and thin, like those used in flag football, and it was adhered with sticky tape. He explained, very clearly, that this flag signified that she was only here for the play option. At any point, she could pull the flag off and she would convert to the full option; however, that choice couldn’t be undone. Also, no one but herself could pull off the flag. He attached the flag so that the tape was just below her armpit. Andrea didn’t ask, but she considered it a strange location.

She was moved to the next room. Andrea was ordered to get onto a metal table on all fours. A man dressed in a white lab coat approached with a clipboard. He proceeded to examine Andrea’s body thoroughly. He started with her face, her mouth, checking her teeth, her arms and hands, before moving to her breasts. He grabbed them, feeling the shape, how heavy they were. He took notes. Next he squeezed her flesh down to her nipple attempting to elicit milk from her teet.

“Hey!” Andrea yelled, surprised by the force of his grasp. Until that point, she had been okay with the examination. Her handler sprung into action as soon as she protested. He pulled the large metal pole from its case and pointed it directly at her ass. In an instant, the prod sent a shock to Andrea that punished her disobedience.

“This is your inspection. The doctor must not be interrupted,” the handler stated as he finished shocking her. His voice was no longer monotone. He enjoyed punishing a disobedient cow.

A doctor continued, paying particular attention to her tits, cunt, and ass. As the inspection was concluding, he asked her a few quick questions. Had she ever been pregnant? Was she a virgin? Was she on any medication? Andrea responded quickly and succinctly to each question. She did not want to be shocked again. Each answer was a no.

The doctor grabbed a syringe from the counter. After disinfecting a small circle of flesh on her ass, he inserted the needle into her ass and injected her.

“What was that?” Andrea asked, risking being shocked again.

“Cow 21, lot 34b.” The doctor spoke into a small recorder completely ignoring her question. “No major flaws or injuries noted. Breasts firm but without milk production. Cunt wet and tight. Cow reports no previous pregnancies and no medication. Cow is not a virgin. Injection given, combination of fertility hormones, prolactin for milk production, and a relaxant.”

Andrea’s mind was racing. Had drugs been mentioned in the consent form? She started to tense as soon as he had pricked her with the needle. She didn’t remember seeing anything about an injection of medication. Her handler approached her with two leather straps. Wrapping the strap under her ankle, he pulled it tight as he wrapped it around her thigh. He repeated the procedure with her other legs and both were now completely bent. She couldn’t walk on her own and would be remaining on her hands and knees, like a cow. Her stress should have been building as this became more and more real, but instead, she was feeling relaxed. The drugs were starting to take effect.

Her handler picked her up off the table. One hand was grabbing her tits and the other made sure to cup her wet pussy. She was carried to the next room. Once again, she was placed on a metal table. This time, 2 men and a woman surrounded her. They also had clipboards and took notes. They touched her as they pleased. They each made comments about her body out loud.

“Barely any fat on her.”

“Not the largest tits on this cow.”

“Very responsive to the slightest touch.”

“Incredibly fit. She must work out”

It was a humiliating experience being judged in this fashion. Andrea remained silent while taking in the compliments along with the criticisms. She had wanted this and had hoped she would receive the highest grade. Her grade was written on a piece of paper and handed to her handler. The entire process was over in a few short minutes.

Carrying her again, Andrea was taken to a separate sterile room. Inside of which, a young woman was there to tattoo her. She explained that it wasn’t a permanent tattoo but that their technique was designed to cause as much pain as the real thing.

“Terrific,” thought Andrea sarcastically, choosing not to express her feelings out loud. She reminded herself that this was exactly what she had signed up for. The rough inspection, the degrading process of grading her body, having her number and grade tattooed on her ass. It may have been the drugs but it didn’t hurt as much as she expected. In another stall, another cow was being prepped for her tattoo. This cow didn’t have the flag but her tattoo artist was also using the same process.

“Nothing permanent until a cow is auctioned.” Andrea’s handler noted, seeing her confusion. “Besides, cows don’t get tattoos, they are branded.” That sounded far scarier to Andrea than the tattoo. Yet, for some reason, the thought made her incredibly wet. She had been rather resistant to some of her treatment, thinking that the play option would be a bit more tame. It hadn’t been tame and she was back to fantasizing about further pain and humiliation. She considered, for a brief moment, pulling on the flag, but she decided against it. It would involve leaving behind her friends, family, her career, her boyfriend. She couldn’t do it.

The artist finished up the tattoo. It read ‘COW #21. GRADE A’. Andrea was permitted to see the tattoo. She was proud and excited about her grade. She was a terrific hucow. Her handler picked her up, for what might be the last time and put her onto a cart. Her legs were strapped into place and her wrists were cuffed. Her collar was attached to a metal bar. The whole contraption ensured little mobility for the cow.

He blindfolded her and wheeled her into the holding area. The holding area was a series of stalls that held the cows until the auction. Also allowed in the holding area were today’s bidders. They had an opportunity to view and touch the cows. Andrea’s tits were fondled, squeezed, poked, grabbed over and over again. Countless men touched and fingered her pussy. Cheers went up in the crowd whenever a cow orgasmed and Andrea was no exception. She came three times while waiting for the auction to begin. She wondered if Bill was nearby. She would have expected him to try to stop the strangers from touching her.

At 5pm, the auction started. Bill and the other accompanying men had been allowed inside early. Minutes before the auction was scheduled to start, the room was fairly empty and Bill wondered if this was truly all the bidders for the night. However, with the holding area closing and the auction about to begin, the room filled. Bill, still disgusted by the whole thing, found a quiet corner in the back to wait until Andrea was auctioned.

The lot was announced and the first cow, #1, was wheeled onto the stage. The auctioneer spoke with a stereotypical cadence. The first cow was a real auction. The lights were up high and the bidding was fierce. Contrasted to the second cow who was only there for the play option. A red light filled the room to indicate she was not actually up for bid. A few men raised their paddles but she was off the stage rather quickly.

When it came time for Andrea, the red light once again fell over the room. She was wheeled onto the stage and her blindfold removed. Her body was exposed to hundreds of men. With the spotlight on her and the dim red light in the crowd, she couldn’t see very much.

“Cow 21. Formerly known as Andrea. Assigned grade A, one of only 3 grade A cows available today. Of course, this cow isn’t actually available,” the auctioneer noted. Bill perked up upon hearing his girlfriend’s name. He saw, for the first time, the state in which a girl was in on that stage. He shook his head and hoped that she thought the experience was worth it.

The bidding began. Andrea had expected, no… she wanted men to bid on her. She wanted her price to rise into the thousands. There was a bid of $200, another for $250, and a joke bid of twenty bucks. She couldn’t understand it. How could anyone bid properly with the lights so dark in the room? It hit her like a ton of bricks, the fake auction was, above all else, fake. She wanted it to be real. She wanted to be owned.

“Going once… going twice…’ the auctioneer paused briefly. At that moment, Andrea didn’t consider her life, her family, or her boyfriend. She only cared about one thing. She also finally understood why the flag had been taped where it was. It was at the perfect location for her to still be able to grab while cuffed. Andrea grabbed it and yanked it as best she could for being handcuffed.

“Wait a minute! This hucow has decided to be auctioned for real!” The auctioneer yelled into his microphone with enthusiasm. Bill watched as the lights came back on in the room and the mood changed. Suddenly, there was tremendous interest in his girlfriend.

“We start the bidding at ten thousand,” the auctioneer stated. The silence in the room was replaced by the whispers of hundreds of men. Andrea could see now that the room was filled with potential buyers. She might have regretted her actions if she wasn’t so turned on from seeing all of the men leering at her. Bill, on the other hand, was paralyzed in fear. He was seeing his girlfriend being taken from his life, right before his very eyes.

Bidding was underway. There were many black paddles being raised in a hurry. The auctioneer had his work cut out for him. Bill, seeing the paddles, remembered he had his own in his hands. He hadn’t intended on using it but now he was considering how much of a loan he would be able to take out in order to keep Andrea. He raised his paddle multiple times. He waved it around. At no point did the auctioneer accept his bid.

“Fucking husbands. Don’t even understand that their red paddle is worthless for bidding.” a man close by said loudly to another bidder. Bill overheard him. He saw that every other paddle being raised was black. He turned his head towards one of the other men who had entered the room at the same time he did, his paddle was red too. He lowered his paddle in defeat and watched as she was sold for 238 thousand dollars. He never could have afforded that anyway.

Andrea was on cloud nine being sold for such a high price. Her new life as a hucow was just beginning.

Ch1 Ch2

Julia could barely keep her eyes open. Having fucked herself well into the night, she'd barely gotten any sleep and she couldn't even sleep in. She needed to make up a lab this morning, but she needed to fuck herself for an hour before she could even leave. She wanted to cry at the thought of putting herself through what she had last night, but she couldn't stop until she spoke to her professor. A missed session meant she'd need to start over, and last night's torture would be wasted. She’d also be pushing back her much needed payment. Her credit card debt was piling up, and she didn’t have any fun money for the rest of the month.

This time, she was smart enough to set an alarm for an hour. That’s all she was allowing herself. She couldn't let herself get carried away again, especially because she had places to be today. She begrudgingly put the headset back on and grabbed hold of her dildo. Her pussy still wet from only hours before, she easily slit the entire object inside her.

As she thrust into her pussy, a gangbang video popped up on her screen. Unlike last night's videos, this morning’s video seemed a little more consensual. In this video, a skinny blonde girl was tied to a pole as a line of men waited to take turns on her ass and pussy. The girl moaned deliriously through the whole video as she thrust back on the men's cocks. Julia watched slut work judgmentally as she drilled her own pussy. Some women had no self respect.

She needed to take it more slowly this time if she needed to last another half an hour and not batter her cunt with the dildo. As she fucked herself, she let out soft moans, the discomfort of her soreness from last night mingling with pleasure. Despite trying to control her arousal, after 30 minutes, Julia felt an orgasm building. She quickly withdrew the cock from her cunt, not wanting to drive herself to the brink of insanity again.

She reinserted the cock and started slowly thrusting it inside her while she barely touched her clit, just barely meeting the requirements the scientists had set for her. The slow stimulation was its own kind of torture, but at least she might be able to walk straight today. Her pussy ached for more as the video changed and she was watching a big titted redhead get her ass fucked, her dripping pussy ignored and empty. At least Julia had something in her cunt. She couldn't imagine how terrible it would be to be getting fucked in the ass and have her pussy ignored. Not that she'd ever take anything up the ass. That was a strictly exit-only hole.

As she teased her cunt, her alarm went off. She couldn't decide if she was pleased or disappointed at being cut off. The idea of ignoring her pussy for the next twelve hours was hard. Knowing that she wouldn't be receiving the release she craved anytime soon, she pulled the cunt from her dildo and tucked it away in her drawer. It was time to pull herself together, wipe herself down so she didn't smell like pussy, and get ready for the day.

— —

Dressed practically for her lab, she wore a modest, long sleeved blonde and plain black leggings. Normally fashion forward, her new sexual perversion made her uncomfortable showing off her body. She was too heightened all the time. Even now, as she hurried across campus, each step caused her clit, still sensitive from the morning, to rub across her panties. Uncomfortable pleasure jolted through her body as she walked, trying her best to ignore her needy cunt.

Soon, she was standing across three male students, preparing to make up the lab. She needed to make herself stop thinking with her pussy, and focus on her academics. She was uncomfortable being so aroused around her classmates.

“Today, you’ll be learning how to determine the concentration of a sample in a solution using titration,” the professor explained, passing out lab manuals. “Come get me if you have any questions. I’ll be proctoring an exam in 203 for the next few hours.”

Alone with her three classmates, Julia quickly felt overshadowed. Almost insultingly, they completely disregarded her attempts to take lead, instead deciding to instruct her on basic laboratory safety like she wasn’t a biochemistry major. This is what she hated about men. They always thought they were smarter than her, and liked to treat her like a child. She was just as capable as they were, if not more. That was even more the case with Damien, Dom, and Chris, who had only needed to make up the lab in the first place because they were too busy fucking around to get anything done the first time.

“Be careful,” said Damien, admonishing her as she carried over a vial of solution to their table. She couldn’t believe she’d gotten stuck with these assholes. It didn’t help that they all knew each other and validated each other’s behaviors, while she was the odd one out.

She rolled her eyes in response. “Thanks, Einstein,” she quipped rudely, proceeding to ignore his concerns.

As the men attempted to divvy up responsibilities, Julia completely ignored them, starting to set up the lab herself.

“Stop it, Julia,” Dominic criticized, scowling at her. She ignored him. She was acting like she was the smartest person in the room, completely bulldozing their attempts at teamwork.

“You’re such a cunt,” Chris quipped under his breath, not afraid of offending her. He was fully of the belief that women shouldn’t be babied simply for being women. Feminism had convinced women that they were infallible, and men had no control over them, even for the common good. If a woman was acting like a cunt, Chris would tell her.

Julia shot back a furious glare at Chris. “Excuse me?!” she asked shrilly, horrified at his language. “What the fuck did you call me?”

“I called you a cunt because you’re acting like a cunt. Stop trying to control the show. You’re acting like you’re better than us,” he replied.

“That’s because I am better than you, asshole!” she snarled back. Chris glared at her in response, just barely holding back the urge to slap her. No bitch was worth getting expelled, no matter how much they deserved it.

Not wanting to talk to these men more than necessary, she reached across the table to grab a pipette. As she did so, her tits knocked over a vial of hydrochloric acid. The vial shattered on the table and the liquid seeped into her blouse. She yelped and pulled back, quickly trying to blot her top with a paper towel.

“Jesus Christ woman,” Chris scolded her rudely, fuming at her spill as he picked up pieces of glass. “Why is it everytime we end up with a female, we need to babysit her?”

Julia blushed as she averted eye contact, focusing on her stained top. She felt like she might cry if she made eye contact with her labmates. She was so disappointed in herself. She made herself look bad, and because she was working with misogynists, she had made all women look bad as a result.

After being verbally abused by Julia for the past fifteen minutes, the men weren’t going to let the chance to humiliate her pass them by. Julia screamed as she felt Dominic press against her back and grab hold of the hem of her shirt, as if intending to pull it off her. She wiggled, trying to free herself from his grasp, terrified.

“We need to get your shirt off, cunt,” he told her, pulling her top upwards. She screamed even louder, desperate for someone to come running in to save her. She was being assaulted. She couldn’t let this happen. She had dignity.

“Rip it off her, Dom!” Chris shouted, cheering Dominic on as Damien hooted. Realizing she was outnumbered, Julia flailed wildly. She would never be able to overpower three adult men in their prime. She just needed to wiggle out of Dom’s grasp and reach the door. Why hadn’t she just played nice? They had deserved her cruel words, but they weren’t worth this. She’d much rather deal with men being demeaning to her for an hour than be sexually assaulted by them.

“Stop fighting me, slut,” Dom cursed in her ear as he tore at her shirt. “This is for your own safety, since you were too much of a bitch to follow instructions.”

Tears fell down Julia’s face as she thrashed around. In horror, she felt her cunt wettern as he belittled her and groped her body. Why would her body react like that to sexual assault? This might end up being the worst day of her life, and her pussy had the nerve to be wet for it?

Dom gripped her neckline in both hands and tore in opposite directions, completely ripping her top in half. Julia shrieked as her bra-clad tits sprang free, bouncing as she continued to fight, knowing she was screwed even if she got away.With no shirt, she had nothing to cover her tits but a bra. Everyone would think she was a flasher, or just a slut.

Julia’s terror only increased when she felt Dom’s hands grip the underwire of her bra.

“We need to make sure nothing soaked through, princess,” Dominic hissed at her demeaningly, trying to tear off the bra from her twisting body.

“Stop! Stop, I’m fine!” Julia screamed, trying in vain to convince the men to let her go. Tears poured down her face. She knew they weren’t actually stripping her out of concern, but the reality was too terrible to think about. She couldn’t focus on how she was being sexually assaulted. She just needed to get the hell out of there.

As she wiggled around pathetically, completely overpowered by her attacker, she felt a thick bead of arousal forming in her cunt. She wanted to cry and curse herself at her arousal. Why was her body enjoying this? She should be dry as a bone right now. Sexual assault wasn’t hot.

Dom forced her bra over her head, and Julia’s naked tits sprang free. Chris and Damien hooted at the sight of her jiggling udders. Now that her tits were fully out, Dominic focused on holding her arms behind her back, causing her tits to jut off erotically. The two other men walked over to her, and began slapping her jugs around demeaningly, making Julia feel violated and objectified. She wasn’t an object to taunt. They had no right to treat her like this. She was an intelligent young woman with so much potential, not a sex toy for them to strip and grope when they pleased.

“We should get her under the shower to make sure there’s nothing left on her,” Damien said with a mischievous grin.

The other two men seemed to like that idea. Dom hoisted the screaming Julia over his shoulder like a ragdoll. Why did they have to be in such a remote classroom? Why did this have to be happening to her?

Flopping the unwilling slut’s body on the floor, Chris turned the shower on full blast, cold water spraying over Julia’s face and tits. She spluttered and tried to stand up, but the three men stood guard, making sure she was fully rinsed off before she could get out.

Damien grabbed a bottle of hand soap from the sink and spurted some on his hands. As Julia saw his soapy hands reaching for her tits, she realized what was coming next. She again tried to stand and scream, but Chris and Dom held her down as Damien’s palms descended on her udders. He “washed” her roughly, squeezing her tits like stress balls as Julia shook with fear, still crying. As the two men holding her down laughed, her tits ached from their abuse. Her cunt started throbbing underneath her panties, pleading for attention that Julia was terrified it might get. As needy as her cunt was, she hoped the men only wanted to humiliate her, not rape her. She wouldn’t survive that emotionally. Why did this assault have to be happening now, whenshe was so horny? She would never be reacting like this under other circumstances.

Julia’s self-pitying thoughts were cut off as they turned the shower back on and cold water shot at her soapy tits. She screamed at the shock. Just as quickly as they turned it on, her tits were rinsed and it was shut back off. She cried to herself as she realized she couldn’t even run anymore now that her bra was gone. She was truly stuck in a room with a gang of horny, violent young men. She wanted to curl into a ball and sob.

“Why are you acting like we’re raping you, bitch?” Chris asked, belittling her fear. “This is for your own good, since you’re too fucking stupid to do a simple titration lab.” Julia burned red in shame and anger. It wasn’t her fault.

“Hey, go easy on her,” Damien replied. “She’s just a woman. There’s a reason they weren’t allowed into universities for so long. Their brains just can’t handle the complex tasks like men can.” Damien winked at her, as if he was doing her a favor. It made Julia’s stomach turn. How dare he talk to her as if they weren’t sexually assaulting her?

“Well, they are far more useful in the kitchen and the bedroom,” Chris grumbled. “The only good she serves here is if she’s walking around naked in only a lab coat. Even then, we’d keep her on a leash, away from the chemicals.”

Damien laughed. “I agree with you there!”

Julia felt so degraded and violated as she listened to two men argue over how stupid she was. They were being so misogynistic. Naked, on a leash, away from the chemicals? She would have gagged in disgust if she wasn’t so terrified.

Damien looked at her pitifully, almost genuinely. It made her feel both safer and smaller than him. Maybe if he had an ounce of compassion, they wouldn’t rape her.

Damien pulled her dripping wet body off the ground before he sat down on the professor’s desk chair. “You can’t wear those soaked pants any more. You’ll catch a cold.”

Julia shook with fear. Were they going to strip her completely nude, like she feared? Was she going to actually get raped? She shuddered in fear and dread while her cunt throbbed needily underneath her soaked leggings.

“I have an idea,” started Chris. “How about she just kneels beside us naked while we finish the lab? That way she won’t need to do any science, but she’ll have participated enough to deserve the grade we earn.”

Dom and Damien seemed to think that was a great idea.

“Are you going to strip, or are you going to make us do it for you?” Dom asked threateningly.

Julia whimpered. Terrified, but unwilling to lose any more power, she stripped her wet pants off her body and piled them next to her belongings. Her only blessing was that despite her arousal, she was too soaked for the men to notice how wet she was. If it wasn’t for her shower, she’d probably have a humiliating wet spot on her panties.

“Panties too,” Dom commanded, not even giving her a moment to adjust to her near nudity.

Her eyes closed tightly, Julia rolled her panties down her thighs. She sobbed as she felt a strand of lubrication string from her cunt to her panties as she pulled them down. She opened her eyes to see all three men stared silently at her wet, exposed cunt. Looks of hunger were on their faces, like jungle cats watching their prey in silence, waiting to pounce. It both scared her and aroused her.

“She’s fucking wet,” Chris said crudely, breaking the silence. Julia sobbed in humiliation, a pit in her stomach. She knew the way this was going. It wasn’t looking good for her. The two other men didn’t respond to Chris’ comment, their hungry eyes still fixated on her cunt. With her full breasts, shaking with fear, hard nipples, and wide, terrified eyes, she looked like she was made to be raped. She knew they were all imagining pinning her down and forcing their cocks into her unwilling body. The arousal in the room was palpable.

Julia repressed her urge to run, knowing she had nowhere to go. She was about to be raped in broad daylight, in a place she was supposed to be safe. It was so absurd, would people even believe her if she told anyone?

Dom acted first. Julia barely had time to tense up before he lunged towards her and tackled her, slamming her body against the cold tile floor, kicking her legs open with his knee. Julia didn’t even fight. She knew it was useless. She was about to be used like a toy by three misogynists, and she couldn’t even blame them. They had seen how wet she was. Anyone who saw that would’ve taken it as consent, no matter how much she screamed and fought.

Completely overpowered, she shuddered as she felt Dom’s cock line up hover over her hole. This would be her first rape. Her first rape of at least three, unless someone came in and miraculously saved her.

One of his hands pressing her head against the ground while his other hand supported his body, Dom’s cock slid into her cunt, stretching her pussy lips obscenely. Dom was going to use her cunt until he was satisfied. Still horrified, Julia shook with pleasure as she was violated, her cunt desperate for attention despite how awful the situation was. Veiny and hard, Dom’s cock felt sickeningly similar to her dildo. Her pussy made humiliating squelching noises as he thrust into her, further evidence of her arousal. Her face pressed into the tile, she sobbed, knowing how obvious it was that she was enjoying being raped. Dom intensified his fucking, using her pussy like a fleshlight for his own pleasure. The only action her clit was getting was the sensation of his balls slapping against it. She cried, knowing she probably wouldn’t even get to cum during her rape. She was going through the most traumatic experience of her life, and wanted to cum, but it wouldn’t happen. Her body had been modified so she wouldn’t. She knew she probably should be thankful. Good girls didn’t cum from rape. Smart girls didn’t cum from rape. Only pathetic sluts came from rape, but she still wanted to. If she came, she knew that she couldn’t blame her rapists for anything they did to her. Nobody would prosecute a guy for rape if his ‘victim’ came. Obviously, she was a slut asking for it. She wanted it. And she did want it. She desperately wanted cocks in her cunt, no matter how much her stomach turned at the thought.

Julia saw Chris’ boots shuffle on either side of her face. She tried to look up, still pressed under Dom’s hand, and saw a thick, burly cock bounce above her face. She moaned, feeling the cock filling her pussy as she looked at Chris’ cock. Shamefully, she imagined how good it would feel to have that thick shaft impaling her cunt, stretching her hole to its brink. She still didn’t want it. She was good. She was smart. Her entire life, she’d only had one cock in her. By the end of the day, her body count would be at four. Four, violent, humiliating cocks treating her like a fucktoy.

Seeing that Chris was waiting for her, Dom released her hand from her head and pulled back, kneeling upright as he continued to fuck her. Chris pulled her up by her hair, lifting her torso off the ground, her tits swinging as Dom pounded her hole.

Julia’s mind whirled in anxiety, realizing that she was expected to open her mouth for his cock. Of course she was. What kind of slut who was wet for rape didn’t suck cock? But she really didn’t want to. Cocks were dirty and gross. They were meant to go in pussies, not her mouth.

She whined and tried to pull away, but she had nowhere to go. Irritated at her disobedience, Chris pulled her head roughly towards him and slapped her. She moaned at the impact.

“Open your mouth, whore,” he spat, rubbing his balls across her face like she was a rag. She had never felt so small, pathetic, and humiliated. She wanted to fight, but she also wanted to give up. She was already so low.

Her cheeks burned with pain and humiliation. Pitifully, she obeyed, opening her mouth slightly. His cock slid through her parted lips, and he quickly sunk his full length into her throat. She sputtered and gagged against the foreign invader as he thrust into her throat, his balls slapping against her chin. His cockhead hit the back of her throat, and tears poured down her face from discomfort. She'd never had a cock in her mouth in her life, but now her throat was being used like a sex toy.

She never wanted to have a cock in her mouth, but nothing was up to her. She had never felt more like a degraded porn slut— face fucked, tears dripping down her face, as another man used her pussy without concern for her pleasure. For all her rapists cared, she didn't even need to be a human being. She was just an object to fuck.

She felt Dom unload in her wet pussy, and her hole responded by clenching rapidly as if she was orgasming, but without any satisfaction or pleasure accompanying it. It wasn't even a ruined orgasm. It was just nothing. Emptiness. She cried, knowing that if it wasn't for the implant, it would have been an orgasm. She would have orgasmed on her rapist's cock. She sobbed around the cock in her throat, feeling the shame of cumming without any of the pleasure. But her shame didn't keep her from wanting more. Her unsatisfied pussy pleaded for attention, her hole still thinking it might reach an orgasm. She hated the cocks that were raping her, but she needed them. Her pussy needed them.

Her cunt was only empty for a moment, as Damien slid in after Dom. Only focused on his own pleasure, he immediately began fucking her sore hole roughly. With one cock pounding her throat and another hitting her g-spot, Julia was completely overwhelmed by cock. She couldn't think about anger or revenge. Her cock-riddled brain could only think about lust and humiliation.

Damien came after a couple minutes of fucking. Julia cried, knowing she only had one more cock to fuck her, and it had already been fucking her throat for some time. Once he was done, her pleasure would be over, and she’d still be unsatisfied.

Chris was the roughest of all. He wanted her to feel pain, and he succeeded. As he fucked her, he slapped her face, her ass, and even her cunt. He pinched her nipples so hard she yelped, and spit on her face like she was a piece of trash. He used her so roughly that each thrust felt like its own individual rape— equal parts pain, pleasure, and humiliation. Julia spread her legs for him, sobbing with shame for how much she needed it. He was hurting her the most, but she was enjoying it the most. Why did her pussy want her to get hurt? She sobbed as he raped her, hating herself for how much she needed it but not wanting it to end.

When he was satisfied, Chris withdrew and shoved his cock back down her throat. She gagged again, his cock overwhelming her untrained throat. Tears rolled down her cheeks as Chris shot his load into her stomach. When he was done, Chris spit on her face once last time before rubbing the saliva into her skin.

Damien took pity on her, handing her a short lab coat from the closet, telling her to run home and shower. They'd finish the lab and he'd make sure she got credit.

Quickly wrapping her body in the skimpy lab coat, the crying Julia grabbed her phone and her keys and she ran out the door, desperate to not be seen by anyone. They would know what she’d done. She looked like a wreck. Her hair was a mess, her face was covered in slobber, and mysterious liquids dripped down her thighs.

— —

Julia sat in Dr. Hampton's chair, shaking.

"They... they... raped me!" She cried, both hurt and insulted by her professor's words.

Dr. Hampton put her hand on Julia's thigh reassuringly. "Look, I understand you're upset, but you can't just accuse men of rape like that. These things have consequences. You could be sued. I'm just protecting you."

Julia sniffled. "But they did rape me, Dr. Hampton. I'm not lying, so they can't sue me."

"Julia," the professor started. "You come to me looking like a whore, complaining that the program is making you extremely aroused and emotionally unstable, and you expect me to believe that you got raped? Are you sure you didn't seduce those men and are regretting it now?"

Julia crossed her arms over her chest as she sniffled. "I'm not lying. They raped me." She didn’t want to back down. She knew how it looked, but she was assaulted.

Dr. Hampton clicked away on her desktop. "Since we have your arousal data, the police will request it if you make a report. They'll see that the whole 'rape,' you were on the edge of orgasm and extremely wet. Nobody is going to take you seriously. Everyone is either going to think you're a liar, or your case will convince them that women enjoy rape. You're in a lose-lose situation."

Julia buried her head in her hands. She whimpered. "But it's not my fault I'm wet. It's the study. I wouldn't be this wet under any other circumstances."

Julia wanted to sob. "Can I at least stop fucking myself? I got..." She paused, not wanting to upset her professor by claiming rape again. "I got... forcibly fucked today. I can't masturbate again tonight."

"We're not making you do anything. This is all up to you. You can choose not to masturbate, but your fourteen sessions will be reset and you will not receive any payment. In addition, neglecting your tasks for an extended period of time is equal to you reneging on the contract. You will be expected to repay your full compensation, plus an early termination fee," Dr. Hampton explained matter-of-factly, as if she weren’t destroying Julia with her words.

Julia shook with fear.

Dr. Hampton looked at her disapprovingly. "In addition to continuing to complete your responsibilities in this trial, I expect you to write me a memo absolving those boys of responsibility for your slutty choices. I won't be having one of our subjects running around acting like our study is causing you to get raped. Understood?"

Julia nodded, tears running down her face. Despite the chills in her veins, her cunt was still sloppy wet, throbbing, and begging to be raped. She stood up, desperate to get to the safety of her dorm room.

“As you leave, please clean up your juices from my chair,” Dr. Hampton commanded. “It’s disgusting. I have other students.”

Julia looked at the wet patch she left on the chair in shame. “Do you have any paper towels?” she asked sheepishly.

“No,” her professor responded. “Usually my students don’t get cum all over my seats. Lick it up, or I’m going to contact facilities with your name and inform them what happened, and you’ll be charged for the cleaning.”

Julia shook with dread as she lowered to her knees in front of the chair. She stuck her tongue out and lapped at the chair, licking up globs of pussy juice and cum. When she was done, she looked at her professor for approval.

“Run along now. Try not to get “raped” again on your way home,” she demanded mockingly.

Julia stood, legs shaking like a newborn foal. She held the skimpy lab coat around her body as she left the office, pleading for a safe trip home. Nobody could see her. It would destroy her reputation. It was so obvious what had happened to her. What she’d done. What she’d become.

Ch4

There’s a sweet ache in my body when I wake up.
It’s odd.
Like waking up after a long wet dream that left you horny and unfulfilled. Like I had just spent the whole night dreaming of being edged and never allowed to cum.
I move trying to push away the sleepness but there is something holding on to my legs. Or rather something around them. I take a few seconds to realize it’s my shorts. They are around my knees making it hard for me to move my legs.
My shorts are around my knees?
That thought is enough to wake me up.
Trevor.
He came over.
This has to be Trevor. It has to be.
He said he would come, but he took so long I thought he gave up and fell asleep, but… but it was…
He was so mad yesterday.
I made him so mad.
I spent the whole day teasing him and making him jealous. I called him soft and told him his spankings were too bland for me.
That would be enough to offend any man but Trevor is a little above the fold, isn’t he?
He’s the kind who enjoys control even more than orgasms. He likes me on his fingers as long as I’m under his thumb. I always make him work for it, of course , and work he does.
Generally speaking, I’m a difficult woman. Yet somehow… he still made me go from blind hate to calling him daddy after three fucks. If there was some kind of Hard Cock Award for Hanging in There, I’d nominate him.
He has a heavy hand and an unforgiving bite and yet I opened my mouth and said I’d rather give my ass to someone else cause he was too soft.
I called him soft.
Did you ever make a man so fucking irate that he looked like he could bite his own teeth?
I called him soft and Trevor looked like he could set fire to the whole house just to show me he doesn’t burn.
And I fucking love it.
I love it when he goes mad like this.
Shaking his lips like he’s about to show me teeth and growl. A wild dog, hungry and undomesticated, fighting for a piece of bone. I insulted him by saying he wasn’t nearly enough to fill my pussy’s needs and I bet he could snap me with his teeth then and there.
Put his hands on me and spank me so hard I’d never walk right again.
Fuck. He said something about putting me over his knee… what the hell was it?
I can’t remember. But he said it.
I feel heat. Right now, laying in bed with my shorts around my knees, thinking about being bent over his.
He fucked me.
He came in here pissed as all fuck, and he fucked me. Just like I asked.
Just like I begged.
He put his pants down. Pulled out that massive cock of his and fucked me just enough to get back at me.
He said he was gonna fuck my ass though, before I gave it to someone else. But… My ass seems fine.
I guess after all his sing and dance, he didn’t go for it.
My pussy is another story.
I reach out between my thigh. My clit is so fucking touchy and this texture… it feels like dried lube and cum.
Maybe because that’s exactly what this is.
Some lube he soaked his cock in. Some cum he soaked my pussy in after he came, quietly humping my sleeping self in the dark, with my shorts just barely out of the way.
I didn’t even fucking wake up.
I am so fucking turned on I could flick my clit once and cum so hard I’d scream.
My finger brushes on my clit and the pleasure is so intense I close my eyes.
He fucked me.
I was sleeping. He came in, took off my shorts, fucked me like I was a plastic tube and left his load on my pubes to dry.
He used me.
That’s why I woke up feeling like this.
The long wet dream that left me horny and unfulfilled. The whole night dreaming of being edged without ever being allowed to cum.
That is exactly what happened.
He took me right there but I never climaxed. Like he was the owner of my orgasms again, counting me down to 1 when I could finally scream, only this time 1 never came.
I spent the whole fucking night dancing around 3 or 2. Touchy and ready and willing… and denied.
I drink a full glass of water in almost one single gulp. There’s fire inside me. The water does nothing. Not one single fucking thing.
I fill the glass up again.
My shorts are still around my knees and I don’t wanna pull them up cause that would mean the experience is over.
I drink the full glass again.
Fire.
Raging fire inside my pussy.
And only one way I know of putting it out.
I push my shorts up and run out of my room without a second thought. The door to his room is open and I can hear the shower being turned off. I open the bathroom door (cause yeah the thing doesn’t always lock right) to find Trevor with a towel (mine) around his waist and using another towel (his) to dry his hair.
He is usually hot, but like this? All dripping wet, shirtless with all the tattoos, muscles and hair over his chest? Fuck.
I’d call him daddy now, if he asked.
After being covered in his dry cum, having been used all night for his pleasure and seeing him like this? Fuck, I’d let daddy slap my tits and shove his cock so deep down my throat I’d choke.
“What the… Tess, I’m in the shower!” He widens his eyes, not believing, even after everything else, that I would be this daring.
“You fucked me” I whisper “I woke up with my shorts down and there is cum in my pussy. You fucked me”
He looks in panic. He clearly misunderstood my motivation to be here.
“Wow, wow! Slow down. We talked about this a lot, you asked so may times and didn’t safe word! I just…”
I can’t hear him, to be honest.
I know he is panicking and I feel bad for him, yada yada… but fuck me sideways cause I don’t hear a word out of his mouth.
His towel upsets me.
I grab his dick only once! And it was so quick.
Trevor is worried about something and trying to apologize, but I just want him to shut up.
I want his dick in my hands.
Fuck, I want it in my mouth.
I walk up to him and rip the towel around his waist which seems to be enough to get him quiet.
His cock looks glorious.
It’s huge even while flacid.
Fat and thick, you know? With the head fully hiding under the skin. That thing dangles between his legs surrounded by his manly pubes, that he trims just enough to keep a girl happy.
I get down on my knees licking my lips and Trevor goes “oh” when he finally understand what I came here looking for.
I am so hungry for him I put his entire cock in my mouth in one go. It is so sudden that he backs up against the sinks and grabs it so hard he might bring the whole thing down.
He is flacid before I put him in my mouth. He is hard when I take him out. The head of his dick peeking out, red and leaking his pre-cum along with my spit.
His eyes are closed and his mouth is open in this glorious silent O. He is grabbing the sink so hard I can see every vein in his forearms. His stomach is tense, drops of water still making their way through the hair in his chest down to his sic pack. So I sink my nails there, scratching through those fucking fit abs of his. Going so vicious I leave a trail of red down the path of my nails.
He holds my wrists looking pissed.
You don’t like pain, baby?
What if it comes with some of this?
I put him in my mouth and down my throat. I suck him really good. All the way in. All the way out. And back. Until I’m almost gagging and then some.
Suddenly, Trevor doesn’t care about being scratched anymore. Funny, don’t you think?
My wrists are free and I only stop scratching him so I can grab his balls.
Did I mention I suck really good? Cause I do. I let him fuck my throat a bit more before taking him up against my cheek, because I don’t wanna use all my tricks on one go. I suck it and lick it. I can feel him hardening in my tongue. Throbbing. I lick the tip while I scratch his balls and he can’t hold in the moan anymore so I stop.
“Get back there” he commands in despair when I get back up “Get on your knees, fuck, Tess”
I think he was about to beg, but I am too horny to wait. I grab him by his erect dick like it’s a little leash on a little dog and pull it to me.
“Another time” I gasp “Now you fuck me” I undress completely.
“Yeah?” He says, violently, helping me sit up on the sink counter so I can spread my legs to him.
I guide his cock in. No foreplay, no nothing. I just wanna feel him in.
“Fuck, I never saw you like this” he plays with my tits before biting my nipple.
“Completely naked?”
“Yeah. I fucked you in the dark twice and then on all fours, right?” I try to slam my hips against his, but he holds me still. He wants this slow. He doesn’t look at my face, he just stares at my body like a man who has been denied his meal far too many times.
He moves really slow, like a dance. But shoves it in deep enough to make me moan at every strike. And “strike” really is the only way to call it.
He gets balls deep and I wiggle around him to enjoy as much friction as I can. Rubbing my clit agains his pubes like a whore.
Slow pace doesn’t last though. Soon enough he is giving it to me like I deserve it.
I can feel the sink shaking beneath me but maybe that’s just me shaking everywhere. Trevor brings me in and holds me in his arms while he fucks me.
“I didn’t wake up” I say.
“I know, you were such a good girl for me”
“What did you say?” I beg “When you were fucking me”
“I told you to be quiet and to go back to sleep cause I was almost done with you”
That’s it.
Right there.
Just like the erotica I love to read.
I want him to do that again. I wanna wake up half way through next time. I wanna ask him to stop. I want him to shut me up with his hand and do it anyway.
And I think if I ask… I think Trevor will do it.
“Hey, Tess?” Someone asks outside the door “Tess, you in there?”
He shuts my mouth and since that’s exactly the move I was fantasising about I start orgasming. Its not a fast one this time. It’s slow as fuck.
“No. It’s just me” he replies. I tighten my thighs around him as orgasm tortures my body.
“Oh ok! Sorry!” I think that’s my friend Louise. I’m not sure, I can’t think straight when Trevor dicks me like this.
“We should stop” I mumble, weakly.
“We really shouldn’t” he growls.
“Tess?” Louise is looking for me outside.
He needs to finish it quick.
“Trev? Can we do it again?”
“Sleep fuck you? Yeah, of course” He is holding me so close I am almost entirely carried by him at this point. My nipples hard as fuck tickling his chest. And he makes good use of his full control over me to slide his finger around my ass. Right at that exact place that makes me jump up “But I got another thing I want first”. His finger is right there, it goes in just the tip and I jump a little more “Yeah?” He asks.
“Yeah” I agree.
He leans against me. Forehead on forehead. Nose on nose.
“Something else we never tried before” he moans.
“What?”
He kisses me. Its sweet and urgent. Aggressive and playful. I feel his lips on mine. His tongue on mine. And just like that, I start to cum again. I tilt my head back because an orgasm is a thing that demands all your attention, but Trevor is not sharing. As soon as I pull away, he grabs me by my nape and keeps me reeled in. His mouth is still on mine, kissing me while I cum biting his lips instead of my own.
Then it’s his turn. He gets stronger and faster, fucking me for himself while I move and moan just for him. I scratch his chest feeling it still wet from the shower and he kisses me again when he is cumming, so he too can bite my lips instead of his own.
“Trev?” I finally say.
“Yeah?” He is still inside me, catching his breath. Moving, lazy, not wanting to pull out just yet.
It’s… intimate.
“I like it rough” I say.
“No way! This is very unexpected news” he smiles, making fun of me.
“I wanna try other things” I admit at last.
“Like what, baby?” He is still moving inside me, even after the orgasm that still feels so fucking good.
“I wanna get spanked” I confess “With your belt”
“Looking forward to that” his mouth waters.
“And I wanna try the choking thing you did before. And… I want to fight you and say ‘no’ while you fuck me, but I want you to still do it anyway. Could we do that?”
“We could absolutely do that” he seems like he is more excited about it than I am. Still moving inside me. He starts kissing my neck. I close my eyes.
“I might wanna try other things too. But I don’t know them. Would you show me?”
“Oh sweetheart, yes” he moans on my neck “I will show you everything”

This is true story. Everything written about here was done with enthusiastic consent. My dominant gives me permission for me to post this.

This story includes the following: bondage, gags, blindfolds, overstimulation, clit torture, forced orgasms, and degrading. If any of these things make you uncomfortable, please avoid reading. If there's something you believe should be added to this list, please let me know and I'll add it as soon as possible.

A lot of you might know that the new Doom game came out recently. My boyfriend Milo loves gaming, so when he came over to my place last weekend, he naturally brought his Xbox with him so he could continue playing Doom.

I love that he games, and I love that we can just coexist without having to entertain each other. So this wasn't a resentment thing. I don't demand his attention 24/7, or need constant interaction. It was just that... I had energy. A lot of energy.

I can be a bit of a chatterbox when I'm excited, so as Milo sat next to me on the couch playing Doom, I yapped my dumb little head off. He's a sweetheart, and he tried to listen politely, but apparently my constant talking was throwing him off. He had to use life sigils a few times before he finally paused his game, sighed, and turned to look at me. "Aren't you sleepy?" He asked me, and I tilted my head in confusion.

"No. It's not even three in the afternoon."

"You like having naps around this time though, don't you?" He pushed.

"Sometimes."

Milo put his controller down on the coffee table. It looked like the cogs were turning in his head. After a moment, he moved closer to me. "Why don't we do something then?" He offered, and I nodded happily.

"We can do something. We can watch a movie, or go for a walk, or go buy something for dinner tonight, or–"

"How about I play with my little toy instead?"

My face flushed pink, and I stopped talking. This must have been what Milo was looking for, because he grinned as he pushed me down onto my back and tugged my pants and underwear off. He pressed himself against me, forcing my legs up over his shoulders, and kissed my neck as I squirmed. I thought for a moment he was going to fuck me, but instead he pulled away as quickly as he had come. "Keep your legs up," he told me, pushing them higher into the air. "I'll be back."

I swallowed nervously. "Okay," I mumbled, then watched as he left the room. My house is pretty small, so I could hear him digging around in the drawer in my bedroom. There was a familiar metallic sound. My suspicions were confirmed when he returned holding the spreader bar.

"What are you going to do?" I asked as he locked my ankles and wrists into the spreader bar. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't get out. "Are you going to fuck me?"

"Shut up," Milo said affectionaly, then forced a ball gag into my mouth. I made an indignant noise, but allowed him to buckle it tightly around my head. It was much tighter than usual, and drool immediately started to run out of my mouth and down my chin.

He pulled something out of his pocket, and my eyes went enormous. He didn't give me a single moment to process what was happening until he had pulled the blindfold over my eyes, bathing my world in darkness.

"There we go," he said. "You're so cute. Now I just need to make sure your big clit is nice and exposed for me."

"Hmngh?" I mumbled, turning towards the sound of his voice.

I felt his fingers tugging at my labia, and whimpered as he then started to pinch my clit. "Stay still," he said. There was a different sensation suddenly, and I knew immediately what it was.

Milo was pressing two pencils on either side of my clit, and looping rubber bands around them to keep them tightly held together around my most sensitive part. I whined in pain, squeaking a little when it grew tighter and tighter. "How does that feel?" He asked, brushing his finger along my clit and making me whine. "You can focus on that pain while I put on something to watch."

There was the feeling of the couch shifting as he stood up. This confused me, but the pain of the makeshift clamp definitely did give me something else to focus on. I let out another whine.

It was as if it was growing tighter. I knew it was just my mind playing tricks on me, but in that moment there wasn't much logic going on in my brain.

Milo's footsteps approached. He patted my leg and sank back down onto the couch. "Right where I left you," he said. There was a moment of silence, and then I heard a voice on the TV. Milo settled, getting relaxed.

A few minutes passed. Milo was probably pretty entertained, what with some show playing and his toy, naked and helpless at his side. I, however, was getting wetter by the second. Being tied up, clamped, and exposed like that was making me dripping wet, a fact that Milo noticed pretty quickly.

"Aw, you need some attention, huh?" He mused. "Look, you've dripped all the way down to your asshole! That's so cute!"

I whimpered at him, pulling against the restraints again. The makeshift clamp was really tight, and my clit was hard and enormous. Milo got up again, disappeared for a few moments, then sank back down into the couch next to me. "I've got some things to entertain you," he said, then pressed something against my clit and began to move it back and forth. I cried out under the gag, curling my toes and attempting to kick his hand away, and not getting anywhere near close. I knew exactly what he was using – my fucking toothbrush. Again.

He scrubbed the toothbrush back and forth over my clamped clit, laughing at the desperate, overwhelmed squeals I was making. This seemed to entertain him for a while, and when he did finally pull the toothbrush away, I was shaking. He quickly replaced the brush with something large and round, and I moaned loudly when he turned it on. The wand vibrator, pressed hard against my sensitive clit.

"Such pretty noises for me," Milo cooed, rubbing my leg. "I love playing with my little toy. You love being my little toy, don't you?"

"Mmm mm!" I moaned. I could feel my clit growing even harder, and it was making the clamp even tighter. I was about to cum, and started making desperate noises as the amazing rush approached.

"That's right. My dumb little toy. Nuh uh, not yet." He pulled the vibrator away seconds before my orgasm, and I came crashing back down to Earth rudely. "Look at the TV," Milo said, then laughed as I turned my head in the general direction of the TV. "You moron, you can't see it with that blindfold. Is your brain melted already? Anyway, you've still got another 22 minutes of edging before I'm ready to let you cum. And that reminds me–"

My furious noise was quickly replaced by a yelp as he pressed the toothbrush back against my clit, then began to scrub harshly again.

I squirmed and strained against my restraints, crying out in pain. If I had the ability, I would be swearing loudly. Milo laughed. "Just one minute. One minute and then I'll edge you again."

Against my will, I started to cry. Dumb, pathetic little sobs. Milo scrubbed my clamped clit until it felt raw, then turned the wand on again and pressed it against me. My sobs began to mix with moans.

"You always make the prettiest noises for me," he said, grabbing the bar and pushing it back so I was forced to curve more. "And you're making such a mess, too. It's run all the way down to your tight little asshole. Not to mention that drool."

There was nothing I could do to rid myself of all the drool running down my chin from the ball gag, so I just continued to moan.

Minutes passed. Another orgasm began to build, and Milo recognised the signs right away. I could hear the smile in his voice as he pressed the wand down harder on my poor, sore clit. "Don't cum yet. You have 17 more minutes."

Jesus. He could have said seconds and I would have reacted the same. I let out a sob, then frantically made grabby hands in the air as I got closer and closer to an orgasm. He made sure I was right on the edge, just before the point of no return, then cruelly pulled the wand away. My clit ached and throbbed helplessly, and I felt my hole clench and twitch repeatedly. Wetness ran out and down my buttcrack.

There was a puff of cold air, and my hole pulsed again. Another little drop of wetness ran out. "So sensitive," Milo cooed, then pressed the toothbrush very lightly against my clit.

I could feel every single bristle. My toes curled and I dug my teeth into the gag, trying not to scream. Two edges, and my clit felt delicate and fragile, like a little snowflake. Milo didn't care. He kept scrubbing back and forth, up and down, side to side.

This continued for another 15 minutes. He edged me three more times, laughing as my clit throbbed pathetically and I made noises that progressively grew more and more pathetic. By the time we hit the 30 minute mark, I was an absolute mess. The video was still playing on the TV, but I could barely hear it. My brain felt like it had melted and clogged my ears to everything except Milo's pretty voice.

It felt like heaven on Earth when Milo announced that 30 minutes had passed. He pulled the toothbrush away from my clit, then gave the makeshift clamp a few flicks to make me squeal. "I bet you're ready to cum now, huh?" He asked, and I nodded desperately.

"Mhm!"

"Let me take this off for you." He began to undo the rubber bands from the pencil. I whimpered when my clit was finally released, and he rubbed his thumb over it and few times. "God, you're desperate. If I told you to hump my shoe like a bitch in heat you would, wouldn't you?"

I nodded again, secretly hoping he wouldn't make me cum with a shoe but with a toy instead. My wish was granted – Milo turned the vibrator back on.

It took all of four minutes for me to cum. I hit that edge and the orgasm came rushing to me, making my toes curl and body shake. Everything felt warm, like the fur of a cat that's been basking in the sun. It was intense, and when I finally came back down to the real world I felt dizzy and dumb.

But Milo didn't take the vibrator off. Instead, he turned it up.

My clit was throbbing harder than ever. I cried out, begging through my gag to be released, but Milo just laughed at me. "But you wanted to cum," he said mockingly. "I'm making you cum."

"Mngh!" I protested, frantically flapping my hands and wriggling my feet. "Mm mmngh!"

"What's that? Turn it up? Well okay."

"Mmo!" I started to cry even harder. Another orgasm hit me like a freight train and waves of pleasure rolled over my body.

This continued for an impossibly long time. I know it was only 30 minutes, but after 30 minutes of edging and being scrubbed with the toothbrush, everything felt so much more intense. He pushed five orgasms out of me, one for each time he had edged me.

The last orgasm was the worst one. I bawled as he forced me through it. He laughed, genuinely amused by my distress. Fucking sadist.

When we hit the 30 minute mark, he pulled the toy away. I was limp as he unlocked my limbs from the spreader bar, then pulled my blindfold and gag off. "You did so well," he said comfortingly. "Five orgasms. But it's my turn now, so stand up."

I couldn't imagine anything worse than more stimulation at this moment, but I allowed him to pull me to my feet anyway. My legs felt like jelly. He spun me around and bent me over the couch, practically holding me upright with his arm wrapped around my waist. I sniffled, but didn't protest as he unbuckled his belt with one hand and dropped his pants to the ground. "Do you need to safeword?" He asked, hesitating for a moment. I shook my head.

"No. Please use my pussy."

His dick was already hard, and probably had been throughout the entire ordeal. I felt it twitch at my words. He lined his cock up and pushed it into my wet, twitching hole. A loud moan mixed with a cry escaped me, and I grabbed onto the couch desperately as he began to thrust.

There was no warm up, no gentle movements to ease me into it. He just started to fuck me. Some of my tears of overstimulation splashed down onto the couch, but I couldn't stop moaning as he hit my g-spot over and over.

"You're my toy," he moaned, and I whined.

"I am! I'm your toy! I'm your little fucktoy–"

"Tell me how much of a whore you are for my dick."

I babbled pathetically, telling him what a disgusting whore I was, and how his dick felt so amazing stretching my pussy. He moaned, grabbing my ass and digging his nails in.

I pushed myself up onto my arms, holding myself up so he could release my waist and instead spread my butt cheeks open. "Look at your tight little asshole," he mused. My face burned with embarrassment.

Milo can usually last a ridiculously long time, but an hour of torturing me without touching himself must have been difficult. He let out a breathy groan. "I'm gonna cum," he said, whining a bit.

"Please cum in me," I pleaded. "Please fill my wet pussy up with your cum."

He pushed his cock in as deep as it could go and held me tightly as he came in me. My legs were shaking when he pulled out, and I whimpered as his cum began to drip down my thigh. "Go clean yourself up," Milo said, collapsing down onto the couch and looking thoroughly drained. "Do you need some help, or you got it?"

"I got it," I answered, standing up straight and putting my hand between my thighs as the cum started to run out of me even more. I wobbled off to the bathroom, and when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror it was no surprise that I looked absolutely wrecked.

After cleaning up, pissing, and putting on a hoodie and some underwear, I went back out to the lounge room and crawled onto the couch beside Milo. I yawned.

"Sleepy?" Milo asked, turning his Xbox back on. I nodded, rubbing my eyes.

"Uh huh. I might nap for a bit."

"Alright." He went and got one of my stuffed toys and a squishmallow, which I used happily as a pillow, then laid a blanket over me. I hugged my toy tightly, waited for him to give me a kiss, then closed my eyes.

It was only when I woke up that I realised that this man, the absolute deviant that he is, had literally tired me out just to get some quiet time on his game. I guess there's a reason he calls me puppy.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did (despite my complaints).

Guess you can use this story as advice for the next time you want to game and your partner wants attention. Make Milo proud and overstimulate your submissives, people!

As always, if you see any grammatical errors, typos, or spelling mistakes, let me know and I'll fix them ASAP. I hope you had fun reading this, and I'll see you all next time.

–Riley <3