⋆｡‧˚ʚ loser perv girl, not my real name lol, femme lesbo, sushi luvr, isfp personality, animal person, makeup addict ɞ˚‧｡⋆
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⋆｡‧˚ʚ mostly hornyposting, rare ranting, maybe a rare vent, kink discussion, responding to as many asks as i can, dms open to all ladies for anythingɞ˚‧｡⋆
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"Be good," she’d whisper, voice low and dangerous, "or everyone’s going to know what I’m doing to you."
we’re out somewhere public. A dinner party, formal, the kind where everything’s candlelit and the air smells like wine and perfume. I'm in something tight, black, legs crossed, heels sharp enough to hurt. And she’s next to me, poised and powerful in that way that makes my stomach twist.
The conversation around us is casual. Laughter, forks against plates. No one suspects a thing when her hand rests on my thigh beneath the table. At first, it’s innocent. But I know better.
She trails slow, lazy circles with her fingers, like she’s just bored. But I’m already on edge, already hyper-aware of every brush of her knuckles under my dress. And then she slides higher—inch by inch—until her fingers find the soft, damp heat of my panties. She feels it. Smiles.
She doesn’t ask. She just moves them aside.
The first press of her fingers against my bare skin nearly makes me gasp. But I bite it back, my nails digging into my palm under the tablecloth. One finger traces up, then down, slow, deliberate—until she finds my clit and circles it with a feather-light touch that makes my hips twitch. And she leans in, whispering something completely innocent in my ear, like she isn’t stroking me to the rhythm of the dinner music.
When she slides two fingers inside, I clench around her so hard I see stars. My thighs tense, and I’m holding my breath like it’s the only way to survive this. She curls them just right—she knows how to make me fall apart, slow and silent, aching with the need to moan and sob and beg, but unable to do any of it. Not here. Not now.
And she doesn’t stop. She keeps pushing, curling, teasing, thumb rubbing little circles on my clit until I’m trembling so badly I have to grip the table for dear life.
She makes me come in silence.
And I thank her with my eyes, because my voice is long gone.
medical kink, butt plug, sir/master kink, pet girl, cum control, anal, fingering, edging
You sat naked on the padded table, knees spread, wrists secured to the leather cuffs at either side of your hips. Your collar had been freshly cleaned, the tag still cool against your throat. There was a faint scent of antiseptic in the air, and the cold stethoscope hanging on the wall made you shiver even though it hadn't touched your skin—yet.
His eyes flicked up from the clipboard in his hand, gaze sharp behind the thin wire of his glasses. That gaze never softened when he slipped into this persona—the quiet, clinical calm of a vet with a disobedient animal in need of discipline... and care.
"You're due for a full check-up, pet," he said, voice smooth and unhurried. "Open your mouth."
You obeyed, parting your lips wide, tongue out like he’d trained you. He stepped closer, resting two gloved fingers on your chin to steady you while he examined your mouth, tilting your head gently this way and that.
"Hmm. No complaints. Still such a good little thing in there," he murmured, almost as if to himself. "But we’ll see if that attitude holds during the rest of the inspection."
You felt your thighs clench instinctively.
"Keep your legs open."
That voice, that tone—the one that made your skin heat and your body pulse with anticipation. You stayed still, breath caught, as he set the clipboard down and picked up a small flashlight.
"Eyes."
He shined it into each one, the brightness disorienting for just a second. His gloved fingers brushed over your cheeks as he turned your face side to side.
"Ears."
He ran a cotton swab gently around the outer edge of each ear, a soft hum vibrating from his throat in approval.
Then came the stethoscope. He pressed the cold metal disc to your chest, and you flinched. His hand came down quickly, not hard, just firm—gripping your thigh as a warning.
"Still."
"Y-Yes, sir."
He moved it to different spots on your chest and back, listening carefully to your heart rate, which you were sure was betraying just how wound-up you already were. His eyes flicked to yours with a hint of amusement.
"Fast heartbeat. Are you nervous, pet?"
You swallowed.
"N-No, sir."
"Don’t lie."
Your face flushed as he leaned in closer, lips just beside your ear.
"You love being poked and prodded. You crave it."
Your breath hitched.
And then he set the stethoscope aside and pulled a small bottle of lube from the tray.
"Now. Time for your internal exam."
Your toes curled. You knew what that meant.
He hooked a finger under your chin, tilting your head until your eyes met his.
"You’re going to sit nice and still while I check how healthy and obedient your little body is. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master."
He nodded in approval and slicked his fingers with lube, the sound indecent in the quiet room. You tensed when you felt the first gloved finger press between your folds, but he didn’t push in—yet.
"Still so wet, and I haven’t even touched you properly," he murmured. "Filthy little thing. You came here leaking."
You whined softly, hips rocking without permission.
"Don’t move."
He finally slipped one finger inside, slow and deliberate, the cool slickness of the glove adding an unfamiliar thrill. He curled it gently, brushing that perfect spot that made your breath catch in your throat. Then came the second finger, stretching you wider. Your body arched, restrained wrists twitching against the cuffs.
"Mmm, so responsive. Very sensitive today, aren’t you?"
"Y-Yes, Master… please…"
His fingers stilled.
"Please, what?"
You whimpered, trying to grind against his hand, but his other palm pressed down on your pelvis, holding you in place.
"Please f-fill me… I wanna cum..."
"That’s not what you’re here for. This is an exam, not a pleasure session," he scolded, though there was amusement in his voice. "But I suppose we should test your ability to hold back, shouldn’t we?"
He resumed the slow thrusting motion of his fingers, precise and focused. His thumb brushed over your clit—not enough, just enough to tease. You squirmed, trying to roll your hips, but his grip held you in place like a vise.
"Control yourself. A real pet doesn’t cum without permission."
You clenched around his fingers, thighs shaking as the heat inside you climbed higher and higher. It was cruel. You could feel it building fast—too fast—and he knew it.
"Don’t you dare cum without my say-so."
Your body fought your brain. You whined again, desperate and shaking. The sounds you made were almost animalistic—whimpers, gasps, breathless pleas as your muscles tightened, betrayal close behind.
But just when you thought you might disobey… he pulled his fingers out.
You sobbed, panting hard.
"No," you whimpered, tears pricking your eyes.
"You didn’t ask permission," he said flatly, wiping his fingers on a towel and peeling off the gloves with a snap. He stepped back, unbothered, while you writhed and whimpered on the table.
"But since you’re so eager, I’ll make you a deal," he said, pulling a soft cloth from the cabinet and returning to you. He cleaned you gently, even as your hips still trembled from denial. "You’ll get to cum… but only when I say. Not before."
"Yes, Master. Please… I’ll be good."
"That’s what I like to hear."
He leaned down, lips brushing your cheek as he unbuckled the cuffs. "On your hands and knees. Let’s check that sweet little tail of yours."
Your breath stuttered, body already moving to obey.
"Yes, sir."
The leather cuffs slipped from your wrists with soft clinks, but your limbs were trembling too much to feel free. You obeyed the command anyway, shifting your weight onto your hands and knees across the table.
The familiar pressure of the tail plug made itself known as you moved—its weight swaying between your cheeks, the cool base nestled snugly against your skin. You felt the soft brush of fur against your thighs, and the humiliating throb of need low in your belly.
"Good pet," he murmured behind you, one gloved hand running down your back, then between your spread thighs, not to touch—just to observe.
"That tail still fits perfectly. Such a well-trained hole… but we should check that, shouldn’t we?"
You swallowed hard, nodding, cheek pressed against the cool padded table. "Yes, sir."
You could hear him behind you—opening a drawer, the faint snap of a fresh glove, the squish of more lube being pumped into his palm.
"Hold still now."
His hands gripped the base of the plug, tugging lightly. You gasped as it shifted inside you, the thick stem teasing your rim, but not slipping free yet.
"Still tight around it. Good. But I want to see how you respond when it’s removed."
Slowly, carefully, he pulled the plug free.
You moaned, the stretch making your thighs tremble and your spine arch automatically. You were left feeling empty and obscenely exposed.
He set the plug aside with a soft clink.
"Present for me," he said quietly, but firmly. "Arch your back. Let me see your little hole."
You whimpered but obeyed, pushing your hips back just slightly, exposing yourself further. You could feel the cool air on your slick skin, your hole twitching from the sudden loss and your own need.
"Very pretty," he murmured, more to himself. "But I need to make sure you’re still holding up after all the stretching. You’re no use to me if you’re loose."
You whimpered again as he pressed a slick, gloved finger against your rim. The sensation was too much and not enough at the same time—cold, clinical, but maddeningly teasing. He pushed in slowly, letting the tight ring of muscle swallow him inch by inch.
"Still snug. You’ve been doing your exercises like a good pet, haven’t you?"
"Y-Yes, Master," you managed, your arms shaking beneath you.
"And how does it feel?"
"Full… I-I like it, sir."
"You’re such a perverted little thing," he said, curling his finger slightly inside you. "You crave this kind of treatment. Being stretched, filled, inspected like you’re not even human—just some filthy little animal."
You groaned, thighs trembling.
"That’s right. You love being my toy. My plaything. My specimen."
He added a second finger, twisting them gently, scissoring you open. You gasped, eyes watering, heat curling in your stomach with vicious speed.
"Master, please… please let me cum…"
He chuckled softly behind you.
"Not yet. I want to see just how desperate my pet can get before breaking."
His fingers thrust slowly, rhythmically, pressing against that bundle of nerves inside while his other hand toyed with your clit. It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t rough. It was worse—methodical. Controlled. Meant to drive you insane.
"Sir—!" your voice cracked as your hips bucked wildly.
But instead of answering, he suddenly stopped. Pulled out. Left you twitching and soaked.
You sobbed into your arm. "Please—!"
A few seconds passed in silence. You were shaking all over, nearly crying, when his hand came down softly on your hip. Not in punishment—comfort.
"You did well, pet."
Your breath caught.
"You may cum now."
You barely processed the words before his fingers returned, this time with purpose—rubbing tight, fast circles over your clit while his other hand spanked your thigh just enough to jolt you forward. The pressure snapped, your body convulsing around nothing as you finally came, loud and unfiltered, trembling hard enough to rattle the table beneath you.
You barely noticed when he caught you, arms wrapping around your waist and easing you onto your side.
"Shhh. There we go," he murmured, gloves off now, skin warm as he stroked your back. "Such a good pet. My good little patient."
You whimpered something incoherent, already floating.
He pulled a blanket over your naked form and kissed the crown of your head.
"Rest now. We'll schedule your next check-up soon."
when doms coo out a soft ‘there you arreee’ the moment their sub finally gives in and starts whimpering, gasping, making the prettiest noises while being absolutely ruined >>>
