i love waking up to the feeling of someone sucking and playing with my nipples. i love the idea of someone needing a taste of my tits so bad they cant even wait a second to wake me up before latching on
Obsessed with the way sensual kissing can reinforce a dynamic. Wrapping a hand around your neck so you feel vulnerable and controlled while I kiss you, or groping you aggressively while your hands stay behind your back or pushing you up against a wall, pinning you in place while I intimately explore your mouth. Grabbing you by the hair and holding you still while I control the pace, teasing you with slow sweet kisses they don't last quite long enough to turn into making out. Pulling away and forcing my fingers in your mouth, or covering your mouth while I ferociously kiss your neck. I need to be so firm and dominant with you that even kissing feels fundementally unequal.
One thing that works exceptionally well for post orgasm torture is tying them up and teasing them gently with a vibe on a lower setting for as long as they can possibly take it. Kissing their neck and playing with their mouth and teasing their hole with your fingers while you keep them on the edge for what feels like an eternity. Slowly down each time the teasing brings them close. Sweetly caressing them until they're such a quivering mess their legs uncontrollably jerking and their moans becoming pathetic, needy whimpers until you finally, suddenly, turn the vibe up to its highest setting and force them over the edge, then keep it pressed against them until they're writhing in uncontrollable pleasure and agony, a helpless toy forced to cum over and over again until their brain turns to mush
I'll tie you up, nice and vulnerable with your legs spread wide apart. Gag your pretty little mouth, plug your ass with something just big enough to make you moan and tremble when it goes in. I'll keep you on the edge for hours, denying you over and over again. Meticulously playing with every part of you until your whole body tingles with burning, torturous anticipation. You're so pretty when you're denied, baby. You want to be a pretty slut for me, don't you? You have to earn that orgasm, baby. Once you've finally been reduced to a brainless, needy, sex doll after hours of denial, I'll wrap my hand around your throat and make you take me until you beg me to stop.
Unboxing Gone Wrong PART 1 (robotic tentacle machine x fem!reader!1st POV)
Summary: reader receives a delivery of what appears to be a standard vacuum cleaner. Upon unboxing and attempting to use it, she realizes it is a sophisticated robotic entity equipped with multiple appendages that plan to clean and use her in every way.
TW: NSFW, robot-tentacle machine, non con, mechanical/robotic appendages, penetration (double, triple), power imbalance, humiliation, bodily fluids.
Kate: Haallo moonlust crew! This is the ongoing series that I started on patre0n. I hope you like the robotic tentacles idea! I haven't written anything like this, and I'm in love. Fyi... this will make you look at a cleaning roomba differently 🤣 please take note of the TW too and don't read if this isn't your jam.
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The box sat on my doorstep.
I nudged it inside with my foot, the heavy weight of it scraping across the laminate. I’d ordered this vacuum cleaner weeks ago, some flashy online deal promising supersonic suction. Honestly, I’d forgotten about it.
Using a key, I slit the tape. The flaps fell open, revealing pristine white packing foam. I pulled it out, the machine heavier than it looked. It was pretty sleek. Gunmetal grey, no visible buttons, just a single, dark lens near the top that seemed to drink in the light. No cord either.
“Great,” I muttered. “Probably needs some stupid app.”
I set it on the floor. It stood upright on its own. Frowning, I crouched down, looking for a power switch. My finger brushed against the cool metal. A low hum vibrated through the floorboards. The lens glowed red.
“What the hell?”
The hum deepened then, with a series of hydraulic hisses, panels on its sides and top slid open. Not compartments for attachments. Ports. Thick, gleaming shapes began to emerge. Silicone, the color of flesh, sliding out with a wet, organic sound that made my stomach clench.
They weren’t cleaning attachments.
They were tendrils that looked like cocks, inhuman ones at that; bulbous and veined, each one a different grotesque parody of a cock. One was obscenely thick, a monster of a thing. Another was longer, tapered, with a spiral texture. A third pulsed with a deep, internal vibration I could feel in my teeth. From a smaller aperture, two thinner tendrils snaked out, ending in what looked like polished clamps.
My brain stuttered, refusing to process. I scrambled back, my socked feet slipping on the floor. “No. Off. Turn off!”
The machine pivoted on its base, the red lens fixing on me. The largest of the silicone tentacles, the monstrous one, moved through the air, its tip glistening with some sort of clear lubricant.
I turned to run. A thinner, vibratory shaft shot out, wrapping around my ankle. It wasn’t cold; it was warm, its touch was electric. The vibration traveled up my leg, a direct line to my pussy, forcing a shocked gasp from my lips.
“Let go!” I screamed, kicking out. My other foot was caught, and I crashed to the floor, the breath knocked out of me. I was dragged, back-first, across the floor toward the humming machine. The two clamps darted forward and before I could even raise my hands in defense, they snipped at the front of my shirt. Buttons flew, fabric parted with soft rips. The cold air hit my exposed bra, then that too was sheared away.
“Wait! Don’t!” My cries were ragged.
The clasps didn’t stop. They closed on the thin cotton of my sweatpants and underwear, slicing them apart. Within seconds, I was naked on the floor, exposed to the machine’s red eye.
Humiliation burned hotter than the fear. The vibrating tentacle around my ankle traveled upward, tracing a path up my calf, behind my knee, to the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. A helpless moan escaped me, a traitorous sound.
The thick, bulbous cock-tentacle hovered before my face, drooling slick lubricant. It smelled faintly sweet. I twisted my head away. It pressed against my cheek, slick and nudging my lips. I clenched my jaw. The clamp-tendrils moved again, one clamping onto my right nipple.
Gently. It wasn’t a sharp bite but a sharp but pleasurable pressure that pinched the sensitive bud into a hard peak. I cried out, my mouth opening in a gasp of pain-shocked pleasure.
It was the opening the machine needed. The fat silicone head pushed past my lips, filling my mouth with its artificial taste and overwhelming girth. I gagged softly, tears springing to my eyes. It didn’t thrust. It inflated, widening slowly, stretching my jaw.
I could only take the first few inches before my throat rebelled, but it kept pushing, the silicone making its way down. My nose was filled with its scent, my world reduced to the thick shaft invading my gullet, the wet, choked sounds I made and the relentless vibration in my thigh.
While I was choking on it, the other tentacles went to work. The long, tapered one slid between my splayed legs. Its tip was a blunt pressure at my pussy, already slick with my own terrified wetness and its own lubricant.
“Mmpphh! Nnngg!” I tried to shake my head, to plead with my eyes.
It pushed in. Not with a brutal slam, but with a unhurried corkscrew motion, the spiral texture dragging against my inner walls. The stretch was intense, breathtaking. Nothing like I'd ever taken inside me. My back arched off the floor, a strangled scream trapped behind the massive cock in my throat.
The machine began fucking me in a rhythm.
The shaft in my pussy pulled back almost all the way, then screwed itself back in, deep and claiming. Each inward plunge coincided with a shallow retreat of the cock in my mouth, allowing me a desperate, sobbing breath before it plunged down my throat again. The one wrapped around my thigh had found its target, the vibrating tip now pressed directly against my clit. The sensation was catastrophic; a sharp, buzzing rapture.
My body was betraying me. My cunt, despite the terror, clenched and dripped around the invading length, closer and closer to the edge. Plus the constant stimulation on my nipple and clit had no right to exist in this horror. Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the drool and lubricant coating my chin.
“You… fucking… machine…” I groaned around the thick silicone during a brief pull-out.
As if in response, the second clasp-tendril found my other nipple and clamped on, mirroring the first. Having both of my nipples clamped sent another jolt through me. Then the vibration on my clit intensified.
Not to mention the wet, obscene sounds: the slick schlick of the shaft pumping in and out of my soaked pussy, the guttural glurk glurk of the one fucking my throat, the constant bzzzt of the vibrator.
I was a doll being used by a machine. The thought was degrading, and something dark in me coiled tight at the humiliation.
The pleasure was a live wire now, intertwined with the pain and the sheer wrongness of it. My hips began to move, tiny bucks against the thrusting tentacle, seeking friction, demanding release.
The fucking machine sensed it. The movements became faster, harder. The cock in my cunt hammered into a sweet spot that made stars burst behind my eyelids. The one in my throat pushed deeper, holding itself there, swelling slightly until my vision swam at the edges. The nipple clamps started vibrating and my mind went blank.
“I’m… I’m gonna…”
My orgasm ripped through me like a seizure. My pussy clamped down in agonizing spasms around the buried tentacle. My back bowed off the floor, a raw, muffled shriek vibrating against the silicone filling my mouth.
The machine didn’t stop. It didn’t care. The rhythm faltered for only a second before resuming, unchanged. The tentacle in my cunt pulled out, dripping with my release. For a second, I thought it was over. Then the thick, vibratory one that had been tormenting my clit shifted. Its tip, slick and buzzing, pressed against my now-overly-sensitive, twitching hole.
“No, no, no, not there, it’s too big!” I babbled.
It pushed. The stretch was different, more intense, more shocking. It breached me with careful pressure, the vibrations now inside me, rattling my bones. A second later, the original cock-tentacle returned, its tapered head nudging against my cunt. How could they both fit there?
Before I could react, it was pushing in alongside the vibratory one. Both of them opening me wide. The feeling was one of impossible fullness, a stretching burn that bordered on pain but was flooded with overwhelming stimulation.
The two silicone cocks moved in opposing rhythms, one sliding in as the other pulled out, creating a continuous friction that touched every nerve. The machine had me completely speared, my mouth still deep-throated.
The red lens watched.
I was sobbing openly now, broken moans punched out of me with every thrust. The build-up began again, faster this time, my overstimulated body responding. This orgasm was a darker, a degrading pleasure that washed away the last shreds of my resistance. I came with a gaping scream, my body convulsing between the three penetrating shafts.
Still, it didn’t stop.
The tentacles switched positions, patterns, intensities. The pincers on my nipples released only to clamp on new, more tender spots. I lost track of time, of how many times I broke apart in ecstasy. My voice was gone, my thoughts were a slurry of cock and full and please and more.
Eventually, I was a wreck and the machine's movements slowed. The shafts withdrew from my ravaged holes with soft pops. The clamps retracted. The tentacles, glistening with their slick and my own fluids, slithered back into their ports. The panels closed. The red lens dimmed.
The machine sat there, silent once more, a vacuum cleaner on my floor.
And I lay in a shuddering, sticky heap, unable to move. Every muscle was liquid. I was delightfully sore and I could still feel the ghost of the vibrations, the stretch, the impossible fullness.
As I stared at the ceiling, trying to remember how to breathe, a soft, digital chime came from the machine. A display lit up on its side, showing glowing text:
INITIAL CONTACT COMPLETE.
SANITIZATION PROTOCOL: ENGAGED.
NEXT SCHEDULED MAINTENANCE: 72 HOURS. DEEP CLEANING PROTOCOL.
The screen went dark.
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Kate: I think I'm gonna write the next scheduled maintenance, too ;)
Some people had a weird reaction to this one, so let me clarify some misconceptions and express my perspective a bit more.
When we talk about kink, a lot of the time people treat safe words as if they are exclusively an expression of an absolute limit. A firm proclamation that the scene is too rough, the pain too much, the situation too extreme, and that the entire thing needs to stop. Safeword use in such situations is obviously essential and mandatory in order to bring the scene or sensation to an end and ensure the safety of all participants. This is not, however, the only time a safeword should be used.
They can be used to express when someone is at their limit. They can mean the scene needs to end completely because the sub can't take it anymore at all. But they don't have to mean that. Safewords should be used to pause or stop the scene and break character for any reason. You can also use your safeword to pause and discuss a limit, communicate that something is or isn't working for you, ensure that everything is going to plan, take a water break, go get a toy from the other room, check with your partner about something, pause to change your laundry, or do absolutely anything else out of character related to your scene.
This is why a lot of people use green/yellow/red.
Green - continue
Yellow - pause and make a change (this can be anything from "slow down a little bit" to "I need something different but want to keep going")
Red - I need this situation to be over and for us to get right into aftercare.
What a lot of people seem to miss is that in this framework yellow is also a safeword.
All of this is ignoring the additional dimension that Dominants also need to safeword!! It's completely normal and if you're doing a lot of BDSM it should happen in your daily kink life often. Real life is not a romance novel.
Using your safeword is essential and you should use it all the time, whenever you want. Breaking character during kink is normal, healthy, sexy, and fundamentally essential. Do it more often.
This might be a little controversial but I think you're actually at your most angelic when your wrists are tied behind your back, my hand is wrapped around your throat, and my fingers are roughly thrusting in and out of your drooling, pathetic, greedy cunt
Isn’t it so relaxing being tied up and getting groped. Your pussy is dripping against the rope so good. Your body looks so pretty all tied up for me. Your tits out for me to grope and tease.
ok anyway has ur dom ever fucked a tentacle dildo into you so good you cum twice and then its pushed into you all the way and ur panties go on and ur dom hits u with the hitachi magic wand (over the panties, pushing the base of the tentacle flush against your hole) for over an hour and you cum so many times you start shaking and ur dom is grinning over you and fucks the tentacle in and out of you AGAIN until you cum so hard you choke and then they jack off with you laying exhausted against them? i recommend it
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