drafts wasn't enough

22nb | i'm here to reblog nsfw | 18+ only not interested in messaging

[the-horny-nightjar]

Want you to tie me up with my legs spread wide apart on a chair next to your desk while you're playing computer games. Use me as a cum dumpster in between playing. Play with me whenever you're bored, but don't let me cum. Edge me to keep me wet and needy for you.

You stuff a big dildo in my cunt, stretch my ass with a butt plug, and tape them inside my holes so they can't fall out (no matter how uncomfortable the stretch is). Then you stand there, wanking over my pathetic body, before you cover your denied whore in cum.

You leave me like that while you continue with your gaming session, I can hear you talking to some guys with your headset on. Whenever you take a break you play with my clit a little more, praising me for being such a good cum rag, and then you use me to jerk off again. And, that's only if things are going well...

When you lose a game or get frustrated, you abuse my body, leaving me bruised, crying, and desperate for relief. Just make sure to keep me gagged so my whining and crying don't distract you too much.

Please use me while you game like the worthless toy I am.

[dogboyhole]

ok having adhd and masturbating is actually a problem bc i will try to think sexy thoughts and fantasies and then i get fucking distracted and think about random shit and my vibrators still on and im thinking about the ethics of colonizing mars

[the-sensitive-sadist]

You know it's so fucking mean but I love speech restrictions especially when they're cruel and humiliating and arbitrary.

Telling you that you're only allowed to talk in the third person during a scene, and asking you perverted, invasive question after question, waiting for you to mess up so I have an excuse to punish you.

Making you use a humiliating phrase every time you talk to me, engaging you in conversation randomly, even calling you throughout the day so you're forced to say it repeatedly.

Taking away your ability to talk at all during a scene, marking you bark or meow like a pet instead, then seeing just how much I can do to you before you break and use your words. Just a dumb, silent object.

It's a level of control so complete and unfair it reduces a sub to a level of objectification that feels wholly dehumanizing and cruel. People get to talk however they'd like. You get to do as you're told, isn't that right, sweetheart?

[coldxsteel]

Boys who ask to cum too often deserve to have their mouths stuffed with a penis gag, an eyeless hood pulled over their heads, a thick vibrating butt plug worked into their little ass, a strong vibrator strapped to their tdick and to be tightly mummified in several layers of latex so they’re blind, immobile and can do nothing but cum and writhe for multiple hours on end. No matter how much they cry and whimper as you’re strapping them in, do NOT concede, it’s for their own good. As soon as they’ve had their first orgasm and they realise the vibrator isn’t going to stop, that’s when they really start to get loud. If the penis gag being used is inflatable, feel free to pump it up at this point to stifle him a little. If he’s really been getting on your nerves, feel free to turn UP the vibe and plug. It can be pretty entertaining to watch him wriggle around like a little worm so I’d recommend inviting some friends over to watch/laugh/film the spectacle. It works I promise, they’ll come out the other side never asking to cum again.

[denialdomme]

I just love conditioning my toys to feel pleasure every time I click my fingers.

Once we've perfected it, their cunt can stay locked away forever!

That slippery little lube dispenser can stay behind the shield of their belt throbbing and aching, begging to be touched indefinitely.

[transbunnyboi]

Help I can’t stop thinking about being used as a fleshlight by him I cannot stop thinking about it oh my god

The idea of being completely pinned to the ground and mounted? One hand on my throat the other keeping my legs open? Him pumping his cock deep inside me, hitting my cervix because of the angle? Me drooling and panting and purring because of how good it feels?

Him eventually getting tired and laying flat on top of me, rutting inside me even deeper? Not stopping until he’s filled me with cum, because after all, I’m just a toy???

[rthornewrites]

Of all the people who come to these parties, Jessie is Mei's favorite to play with.

She drops easily, takes suggestions even easier, and never remembers anything but what Mei wants her to remember.

Right now, she's trying valiantly to keep up the conversation Mei is forcing her to have about the state of local politics while unknowingly humping the edge of one of the couch's throw pillows.

She's not aware of what she's doing, just that it's so hard for her to think, that pleasure she doesn't understand keeps rolling through her and tangling up her thoughts until she can barely get the words out of her mouth.

She's still dressed, other than her panties, which are tucked away in Mei's purse; she has the hard rolled seam of the pillow pressed up against her clit, dragging against it with every movement.

Sometimes Mei takes her upstairs to one of the bedrooms at these parties and has her get on her hands and knees with her dripping cunt facing the open door so she doesn't know if anyone will walk in and just take her.

They won't, of course, but it's more than fun to taunt her dropped mind with the possibility, with the knowledge that anybody could happen by and see the needy slut that she is.

Jessie doesn't remember why her clit is swollen and throbbing when she finally leaves the party, or where her panties disappeared to, but she doesn't think too hard about it.

Not unless Mei tells her to.

[embarrassed-guy]

My roommates overheard me brag about the action I was bringing back home while they’d be out of town, so they set up a camera in the shared areas to see who this “action” was.

I didn’t realize that was a hidden camera in the bathroom where I “got it on” 😰😰

The worst part was, it was being live streamed 😳😰😰

[rthornewrites]

Sandra is pretty sure every group has a pet. The clown, the nerd, the screw-up. There's always one.

It's just that, in their case, it's the slut.

Specifically, their slut.

She could pretend that it wasn't intentional, that it just turned out that way, but the reality is that they picked Zoey to "join" their friend group because she looked dumb, suggestible, and horny.

They were right on all three cases.

Almost five years later, Zoey is trained up well and doesn't even know it, ready and more than excited to do whatever they tell her to do, whether it's being a hole for the mens' cocks or a tongue for the women's clits or just entertainment for the day.

Right now during movie night she's the only one sitting on the floor, vibrator set to a random pattern tucked up against her clit while she humps a pillow with more enthusiasm than grace.

Later in the night she'll beg to suck someone's cock, all apologetic like she thinks they'd be doing her a favor, and then if nobody needs her she'll sit around rubbing her always-wet pussy until there's someone else to do.

[brattydrench]

I need a much older, strict man to take complete control of my pathetic, greedy holes.

I’m such a disgusting little slut that I can’t stop touching myself. I’m constantly rubbing my desperate cunt and fingering my tight ass like a brainless whore, edging for hours because I’m too weak to control myself. It’s fucking pathetic. I need you to set strict rules and punish this worthless fucktoy when I break them. No touching my holes without permission. No cumming unless you say so. If I disobey, you stretch me even harder until I learn my place.

I want you to ruin me with daily training. Force bigger and bigger toys, thick plugs, and fat cocks into my pussy and ass until both my holes are permanently soft, puffy, and gaping. Turn me into a sloppy, stretched-out cumdump whose cunt and asshole stay slightly open all the time, constantly leaking like a broken faucet. I want to feel deep shame every time I have to clench my ruined holes just to stop your cum from running down my thighs in public. Imagine how embarrassed I’ll be — a pathetic, loose whore who can’t even keep herself closed anymore.

Break me completely. Stuff me so full and stretch me so wide that I become a dumb, drooling cocksleeve. I want to be so thoroughly fucked stupid that all I can do is whimper and shake like a brainless bitch while you split me in half. No thoughts left in my empty head, just the feeling of being a ruined, gaping mess. I’m nothing but a set of sloppy holes for you to use and degrade.

Own me. Discipline me. Turn this desperate, leaking slut into your perfectly trained, permanently stretched fucktoy.

Please… I need it so bad.

[brattydrench]

I want a cage so fucking badly… I think about it constantly. I crave being kept like His little pet, locked away whenever He decides I don’t deserve to be near Him.

I dream about the cozy cage in the corner of His bedroom. A small one, just big enough for me to curl up tightly. Soft blankets lining the bottom, my favorite teddy tucked in the corner, and gentle fairy lights strung along the bars that cast warm little glows across my skin. When He says “Go to your room,” I’d crawl there on all fours without hesitation, feeling the cool metal bars against my palms and knees. I’d nuzzle into the blankets, breathing in the soft fabric mixed with my own scent, and wait like a good girl — listening to Him move around the room, knowing I’m close but still contained. The gentle hum of the lights, the faint jingle of the lock clicking shut… safe, small, and completely His.

But what I really ache for is the dark cage hidden in His closet.

Pitch black. Suffocatingly small. I’d be locked inside completely naked, ankles and wrists chained tightly to the bars so I can barely shift position. The cold steel pressing into my skin, digging in every time I try to stretch. Total darkness except for that single tiny flashing red light from the camera — on, off, on, off — a constant reminder that He might be watching me at any moment. I wouldn’t know if it’s been minutes or hours. My breathing would feel too loud in the tiny space, my own heartbeat thumping in my ears, the chains clinking softly with every tiny movement. The heavy, warm scent of His clothes hanging above me would surround me, making my pussy throb while I lie there helpless and forgotten, drooling against my teddy if He lets me keep it.

And then there’s the cruel one — the small, cold metal cage in the garage or out in the backyard. No blankets. Just bare, freezing bars against my bare skin. I’d be locked in there for hours, maybe all night, shivering as the cold seeps deep into my bones. Rain tapping against the metal, wind biting at my exposed skin, the rough concrete or damp grass underneath me. Insects buzzing nearby, the distant sounds of the real world while I’m reduced to nothing but a caged toy. My muscles would ache from being curled up so tightly, my teeth chattering, nipples hard from the chill, tears drying cold on my cheeks. And through it all I’d be comforted by the knowledge that He’s inside — warm, comfortable, relaxed — while I suffer exactly how He wants me to.

[hyenagirlpenis]

storage: small space and sensory deprivation

Everything clambers for your attention in the absence of normal stimulus. Hot air, skin sticking with sweat, pain points from constriction. Tongue tacky from dehydration. Head pounding low with dizzy fear. Pressure on your ears, over your eyes, blocking everything.

You saw nothing of your assailants, and they ensured you continued seeing nothing. With muffs went the hearing. With binds went your ability to thrash.

Hot, heavy silence now. Pillowy darkness pressing up against your vision.

You arch, the only movement available to you. You feel the binds shift, suspect metal chains, but hear nothing from it. No clatter, no crinkle, rustling, creaking. Your brain senses the materials by touch and considers hallucinating the expected sounds for you, but you're not that far gone yet.

There's you heaving with breath, muffled whooshing, which comes faintly to you through the small bones in your ears connected to your jaw. There's the intermittent bass pounding of your heart, more feeling than sound, but occasionally too loud to bear.

All of it competes to be noticed. You fixate only on the tightness of the space.

Walls just far apart enough to hold you. You couldn't tell what was happening until you slid into place and the air went still after some movement from above. Limbs already pinned in by the binds but held still further by the physical boundaries.

The walls hold you closer than you've ever been held before. You could swear they're pressing in, but it's just you coming further apart.

Time stretches forever as you shift, pant, cry out. Weep into the foam-padded blindfold. Grind your teeth into the gag. You can't even form words to keep you company, just useless sounds joining the saliva soaking the cloth. Gut taut with sickly panic, teeth aching from gnawing.

And still nothing changes.

Your inner ear tells you you're upright, that your box is motionless. Why dump you in here? Are they not transporting you elsewhere? Are you stored for later use? Will you die here?

The air cools slightly, but its lingering sense of suffocating stillness remains. The wet breath and sweat become clammy, and you shiver from exhaustion, strain, waves of fear, tomb-like cold. Your organs send warning pangs up to your brain for water, food, more air, less tension, begging for movement of any kind.

At some point, the body surrenders its panic, nervous system collapsing in, and you can't hold your head up or eyes open. Neither of those things change your current experience. Have minutes become hours? Panic turns seconds into days. You doze against your will.

Nothing changes. You'd say something breaks in you each time you return to the thought, but it's a continual process, pieces ground smaller and smaller every time you check back.

When you at last come alert some hours later, it's the reverberation of footsteps.

The movement transfers through the material to you, closer until it's just before you. You can't hear them, how many, what they say. It doesn't matter. The water lost through your renewed tears can't be helped, either.

As a hand lands on you, you cry out, straining with every muscle towards it. You sob, any fear left evaporating, with blind, delirious relief.

[hyenagirlpenis]

storage: removal and usage

You can't believe how good it feels. All of it. Every bit of it. Moving through the air, tight hands dragging you, your body hitting the ground. Clothes being cut away. Gag being pried free.

The exposed skin is so sensitive that it hurts. It all hurts, and yet in contrast to the terror of deprivation, you drink it in. When the blade knicks you, you groan and struggle to feel enough shame at how deep and needy it hits you. The sound that you can barely hear rumbles up from your core, your guts, where the disgust and relief churn together.

When they pin your arms up out of their way by the wrists, you jackknife with animalistic fear. No, no, no, not restricted again, not tied up again–

And the punch to your stomach winds you, threatens to make you throw up bile. You suddenly feel grounded, leaden with ice cold seriousness, with real, practical fear. You don't need frivolous panic when your legs are spread and there are scissors or knives in their hands.

Clearly, they know their craft.

Whoever it is doesn't start right away. They peel back your ruined clothes and pin your limbs out of the way. Letting the cool air flow over you, your body intermittently tense on the hard floor and limp with exhaustion.

Water on your lips, and you drink.

A hand on your nape orienting your face, and you oblige.

Just a drop of water or a brush of their fingers makes you lurch, sick with relief, unable to resist relief, wanting more. Terrified of pain to come but desperate for every bit of contact.

All without warning, in total darkness and silence. Nothing but footsteps or shifting weight to hint at what's coming next.

They arrange you, and the pauses give the pacing of a photoshoot. You can't hear a thing, but you imagine it so clearly, you can almost hallucinate a real camera shutter. They pull your knees up. Click click. They tilt your chin to expose your neck. Click click. The last of your underwear is cut away, leaving nothing but restraints. Click click.

You're dizzy and scared, ashamed by your own arousal they carefully evoke. Fingers grazing erogenous edges with expert skill, just brushing where you fear most direct contact. Forcing your mind to fixate on what touch will come until your whole body is taut with anticipation.

Of course you get aroused. Of course they tease it out of you. Of course they make it worse and worse until your body is drooling in need and you're trembling in revulsion.

Then they use you. Properly grateful and warmed up, you make for a good fuck now. You don't know how long it goes on, how many, but who cares? The heat and pressure and breath against you, fingers digging into you hungrily, eagerly pulling at you that forces you to make sound you can't imagine.

Even when it hurts, it's ecstasy compared to your hours of motionless isolation. When you cum, you don't have shame left to feel, and it's not like they notice anyway.

And you dread it ending. Part of you knows with dead certainly you'll be going back.

You know what will happen. They clean you up, rinse you briskly, let you piss, then redress you in strange clothes.

It means you're being tied back up, sealed away. Back into the velvet, painful darkness. You beg and don't even know if they're affected, and the gag goes back in soon enough. Until then, you barter and bargain and try to offer obedience, servitude, anything.

But you belong locked away when not in use, and the unboxing is half the draw of their content. If you're not truly broken by containment beforehand, the audience can always tell. And then you'd be no use at all.

[wired-for-weird]

hey what if I was a big quadruped beast and you were impaled on me, tied up tight against my belly so that with every step my cock jolted inside of you, making you come until you passed out. what then.

[wired-for-weird]

what if you regained consciousness just long enough to realise you were pinned to the ground with my full weight on top of you, lazily rutting into you for what must have been hours, and your panicked squirming and thrashing is what gets me to spill inside you, filling you til it drips down your legs. what would you do about that.

[c0mmiesw1tch]

It starts the moment you get home.

You close the door, and just after that deadbolt flips, I strike, grabbing your wrists and handcuffing them behind you. Before you can even get out a “wha—?” my leather gloved hand is holding your mouth shut, my other arm holding you tight to my chest. “Mmph!!” I pinch your nose closed, and let you struggle for a bit.

“You wanna breathe?” I whisper in your ear.

You nod hard. “Pheeavv!!”

“Then shut the fuck up and stay that way. One fucking noise, it’ll be the last dumb thing you ever do. Understand?”

You nod again, whimpering, your face already beet red. I release, and as you involuntarily inhale, I shove you against the door, knocking the wind right back out. After holding you there a second, I reach for my duffel bag, just to the side. Mostly tape, lots of it, but some other goodies too. I pull out a thick, clear plastic bag and put it over your head. Then a heavy rubber band, not around your neck, but your eyes. You make some pathetic little noise, and I grab your face again, sealing the plastic. “Keep. Quiet.”

Something like a “yes” comes out from under the plastic, and I let go. The bag is open around your neck, but the rubber band around your eyes doesn’t give the plastic much leeway. You can breathe, but only slowly. Calmly. It pulls to your face as you inhale, but I can hear the whistling of some air getting through. “That’s it, in and out. Keep quiet and calm and maybe you’ll survive the night, faggot.”

A sad little noise escapes your lips at that. I’ll let that one slide. I grab the first roll of electrical tape, and go to work on your hands. Folding them into fists, and wrapping them into little black balls. After taking off the handcuffs, I pin your wrists up on your back, and tape them together there. For a moment, I pin you against the door like this, and then reach down and grab your crotch. You’re already half hard, and twitch a bit in my hand. (My cock is a brick pressing into you from behind.) “Good toy,” I grin, and slap your ass.

With some safety shears I start cutting off your shirt; you won’t need clothes anymore, where you’re going. Next I pull off your jeans, and your underwear. I consider gagging you with them, but I have another idea.

Grabbing your elbow, I lead you over to your couch. Sit you down, then push you on your back. I fold one of your legs, and start taping it up into a sort of frog tie. First electrical, then duct tape. One, then the other. I flick the bottom of one of your feet, hard, and your reaction seals the plastic to your face. You try and blow it off, but can’t do it; you’re sweating, and condensation has started forming. I let you start to panic, before reaching up and letting you breathe.

I sit you up, and go to work on your chest. Wrapping tape round and round, above and below your nipples, keeping them exposed. You’re half mummified at this point, my cute little package, a new pet in waiting. I pull the rubber band down around your neck, sealing the bag, letting you look me in the eyes for the first time. You can’t make out my face for the hood, but my eyes are clear, as is my mouth, smiling.

“This is the start of the rest of your life, faggot. No more work, no more bills, no more pretending your life has meaning in this piece of shit apartment. Now, you’re my personal little fucktoy. In some ways it’s an easier life, in some ways a much harder one. Your first lesson is maybe the hardest to really learn: my word is law. Defy me, and I’ll drop you in a dumpster like the trash you are.”

I love the confusion in your face. Hair already slick with sweat, the bag slowly inflating and collapsing with your breath. You’re terrified, but you also know I’m right. This is what you’ve always wanted. A real purpose, in service to someone else. Not just making some asshole rich, but real service. Maybe you’ll even be good at it. We’ll see.

“Now,” I say, to get your attention. “Kiss me.”

You blink, and I give you a moment to process. You start to struggle forward, trying to lift yourself onto your bound knees on the couch. But I get impatient, and grab your nipples, pulling you towards me. Our lips meet, and our tongues start dancing around each other, separated by the plastic. For a bit you’re entranced, but then the hypoxia kicks in. I grab the back of your head and hold you to me. You’re not really engaged in the kiss anymore, but I am, pushing the plastic into your mouth as you struggle to get free.

Finally I let go, and open the bag, letting fresh air in. “Panic is something you’ll come to demand,” I say. “I know it’s just raw fear now, but soon you’ll understand its beauty, see it as one of the strongest feelings you can have. You’ll come to love it.” I flick your hard-on, smiling as you jump. “But it seems you’re already half-way there.”

When you’ve caught your breath, I let the band snap back, sealing the bag again. “You breathe when I say you can.” I move over and sit on the couch, and pull you onto my lap. With my right hand, I grab your throat, holding you close. With my left, I start slowly jerking you off. I turn your head towards me and kiss you again, your face almost invisible behind the wet bag.

We sit like that a while, making out, you grinding your ass against me while I jerk you off. I even let you breathe a couple times. Finally, you get close, and start bucking in my hand. I turn your head away, and clamp your mouth shut, the plastic sealed against your face. I let you struggle, still pounding away with my other hand. Then, I growl “Cum if you want to breathe.” into your ear. That sends you over the edge. You cum all over your stomach; it’s almost like you’ve been edging a while, denying yourself. Perfect.

I keep my hold on your face, as you start to really struggle. I can’t tell if you’re begging for air or screaming for help. After maybe five seconds of panic, I let go, and pull the bag off. While you’re panting and trying to calm down, I scoop up all the semen from your stomach, and spread it all over your face. In shock you shake your head, but I quickly grab the bag and pull it back over you, without the rubber band. As your sweat and the condensation start to mix with your seed, I push you off me and onto the couch. My turn.

I arrange you to lie on your back, your taped up legs in the air, your head hanging off the edge. I rub my hand over your face, helping to smear your cum around a bit more under the bag. Taking some electrical tape, I seal the bag around your neck. I take a moment to play with your nipples, petting, twisting, pinching and pulling, while I watch the bag collapse and inflate. I lean forward to palm your still half-hard penis, caressing it a bit, rubbing my bulge on your plastic-encased, cum- and sweat-soaked face. I feel you tongue me through the bag, resisting the encroaching fear.

“Good toy,” I coo, and kiss you through the plastic, before tearing a small hole over your mouth, just enough to breathe. Grabbing the tape again, I wrap it around your eyes, and then do the same under your chin and over your head. Not too tight, just enough to seal the bag to your head. Soon all that can be seen besides black tape is a bit of your nose, your mouth, and the end of the bag sticking out around your neck. For fun, and some aesthetic symmetry, I grab the duct tape, and apply a second layer. I also take a moment to tape over some other areas I missed earlier. You’re just a thing now, a wrapped head and torso and two stumps of legs, a cock and two holes.

I drop my pants, and let my tip hang just past your lips. It doesn’t take long for you to smell it, and I see your tongue reach out. A cute little moan follows it.

“Use your words, toy.”

“I, please…”

“Please what?”

“Please, please let me… Please fuck m—”

“Please fuck your face hole? No problem.”

I thrust forward, my tip touching the back of your throat. And I hold it there a second, smiling as you squirm, before pulling back. About half way, enough for you to breathe around me, but not enough to get it out of your mouth. As I play with your nipples, you start sucking of your own accord. Maybe you’re worth keeping after all!

After a few minutes I can’t help myself anymore, and placing a hand on each of your wrapped knees, hanging in the air, I start thrusting into your face. As you gag and try to breath around me, slobber accumulates around your lips and my base, dripping onto the floor, down your face. My speed starts to increase, and with one hand I grab your throat, feeling my cock pummel it from the other side.

I pull out for a moment, let you catch your breath. Like a champ you spit out a wad of saliva. As I go back to rutting into your face, I lean forward, and take your hard-again cock in my own mouth. I feel your throat vibrate around me as I do. Up and down, in and out. Every so often I feel you flex underneath me, pushing against your cocoon of tape. Grunting, I feel myself getting close, and start picking up the pace.

As I start to come, I thrust as far as I can, burying your nose in my balls. I choke myself on your own cock, and feel myself spurting directly down your throat. That seems to set you off, and as you struggle beneath me, you come right into my mouth. Stepping back, I don’t swallow, but lift you upright. Before you can say a word, we kiss, and I spit your cum into your mouth. And before you can even swallow, I grab your underwear and gag you with it.

“Stay.”

You moan in response, or maybe whimper. I grab some duct tape, and after rearranging the gag a bit to fill your cheeks and let your lips close, I use it to seal your face shut. Only the tip of your nose still pokes out from the smooth silver shell. Time for the final bits of preparation.

I grab your head, and maneuver it down onto the couch, using your leg stumps to lift your ass in the air. From my bag I grab some lube and a big plug. Swapping my leather gloves for black neoprene, I prep your hole, and slowly push the plug in. It takes a minute, but eventually it fits, your mummified face making all sorts of fun sounds as it happens. Next, I grab some little vibrators, and place them around your cock with some plastic wrap. Then, more tape. It doesn’t take very long before every inch is covered.

Sitting you up, I stick a short plastic tube in each nostril, holding them open, and then secure them with tape. Of course, I can’t help myself, and spend a bit playing with them. With you. Just placing my fingers over them, lightly enough that when you finally start struggling, you can breathe pretty easily. After a few rounds, I pat the side of your head, and stand up, looking around.

I find it in your bedroom closet, a big, plastic-shell roller bag. Perfect. Wheeling it into the front room, I wonder if you can hear it. Did you take what I said to heart? I open it and lay it on the ground. Then, carefully, I pick you up, and place you in the bag, knees to your chest. It’s not as tight as I feared, and I double check your breathing. You’ll be fine. After whispering in your ear a bit about what I have planned, I zip the bag closed, and lift it upright. For fun I throw a little combo padlock on it. With my phone, I turn the vibrators on, plug included. They pulse in sync, softly for now. It’s quite a drive, we’ll have more than enough time for more fun. I’ll come back for some clean-up, but now I just need to move. Wheeling you forward, I open the door.

Welcome to your new life, toy.

[piggyneeds]

what if you put a gag on me and locked it with a padlock. i’d be entirely dependent on you and at your mercy.

you could do whatever you wanted. it’s not like i could complain

[piggyneeds]

⭒ punishment list ideas ⭒

- spanking, impact, slapping, …

- bondage, being locked in a cage/closet/basement, …

- writing lines, an essay, an apology letter, …

- grounding

- taking away/restricting privileges

- restrictions for eye contact, speech, clothing, …

- wearing a gag

- being forced to eat on the floor/out of a bowl/without any utensils

- chastity

- sensory deprivation

- being used as furniture/not being allowed on any furniture

- being forced to sleep on the floor or being forced to sleep without any pillows or blankets

- counting something such as grains of rice

- corner time

- forced orgasms

- edging

- having to ask permission for everything/being micro managed

- body writing

- chores/cleaning with a toothbrush/servitude

- stress positions

- kneeling/crawling

- lecturing, shaming, …

- not allowed to use hot water

- (early) bedtime

- forced exercise

- forced haircuts/appearance changes

- degradation/humiliation, name calling, insulting

- …

[piggyneeds]

girlfriend that compares our bodies and points out all the ways hers is better than mine.

girlfriend that points out every single one of my flaws and makes fun of me for them.

girlfriend that reminds me that she’d never have any of those flaws.

girlfriend that spends my entire paycheck on herself.

girlfriend that uses me as her personal maid and makes me do all the chores.

girlfriend that compares me with other women and tells me that i’ll never be as good as they are.

girlfriend that makes fun of me with her friends.

girlfriend that treats me like her pet.

girlfriend that gropes me.

girlfriend that humiliates me in public.

girlfriend that ties me up and let’s everyone that wants to use me.

girlfriend that lends me out to her friends so i can cook & clean for them as well.

girlfriend that writes loser on my forehead and takes pictures to show her friends.

girlfriend that spanks me.

girlfriend that bullies me.

girlfriend that makes me pay her to touch me.

girlfriend that uses me as furniture.