Puppy Power @bowwooow-ladiesss - Tumblr Blog

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I just wanted to bring this back since tumblr censored the first one.

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“You’ll wear the remote-controlled vibrator every other Friday for the next 3 months for a 24-hour window, and you’ll make it completely available to me.

I give you the toy.

You become my toy.

Twice a month, every month, for 3 months. No matter where you are or what you are doing.”

I said yes. I couldn’t believe I said yes. We didn’t even know each other’s names. He was just Master to me. I was whatever he wanted to call me.

Master purchased the toy from my Amazon wishlist (“you’re giving me 144 hours... at less than $1/hour, you’re a bargain.”)

In return I was giving him a couple of days a month.

That was our agreement, to play every other Friday.

*****

6:14 on a Tuesday. I feel like I have an appointment, but I can’t recall what it is. There’s nothing on my calendar.

My pussy is so effectively trained at this point that my panties are soaked before the toy even purrs to life.

My body has already remembered what my brain could not.

Master plays with his toy at 6:15 every night without fail.

“I give you the toy.

You become my toy.”

Fridays. Something about Fridays. I feel a flicker of uneasiness before the thought yields to more immediate concerns: I’m in line at the store.

My poor swollen clit is on fire. Every nerve like a live wire. The vibrations cycle through intensity. My knees go weak and I stumble.

I bite my lip and glance at the exit.

I meet the eyes of a man who’s giving me a strange look. Can he hear it? Does he know?

Don’t think about how I’m a slut whose purpose is to serve cock. Don’t think about how much of a needy little slut I am. DO NOT THINK about what it would be like to be paraded around willingly, clothes half-torn off, wrists restrained, in a crowded store, from patron to patron. Skirt pulled up. Ass fondled and spanked. Choking on a cock. Gasping. Toy constantly working on my clit.

I’m on the edge of an orgasm and I’m looking into the eyes of this stranger who regards me with a raised eyebrow. I blush and break his gaze, trembling with the effort to contain myself.

Somehow I make it out to my car before I orgasm. When I look up, I realize the same man from the store is watching from a few spaces away.

I shake my head in horror, reflecting on how I felt in the store, how I felt just a moment ago in my car. Where did those thoughts come from? They’re not mine.

I start my car and drive home. When I pull up I realize my nipples somehow slipped out from the cover of the low-cut dress I’m wearing. Oh my god. Little wardrobe malfunction here. Probably happened while driving. Surely no one noticed. I cover up and head inside.

Fridays.

What day is it? Just as I start to double-check my phone, I feel the toy purr to life. I’m so wet I can smell my own pleasure.

I can’t focus on anything.

I try to focus, though. I really try hard, and for a moment my mind fractures. Scenes of desperate half-naked sluts dropping to their knees in stairwells, giving head under restaurant tables, being spanked and fucked on park benches, being groped clumsily when Master invites his friends or pervy passers-by to cup my tits as he uses my body.

MY body?

It’s weird, I remember those scenes in the first person, like I was there.

No, don’t get confused. Other sluts. Whores. Slaves. Fucktoys. Not me. Those lucky women, reduced to public fuckdolls with such simple, primal needs, simple, primal skillsets.

On, but not limited to, every other Friday...

Are these my memories?

The toy purrs to life. The orgasm scatters my memories and convulses my body.

In the Grip of a Compulsion

“I–um–I’m sorry, I hope you don’t think I–” Donal fumbled with his jeans, tugging them down until his hard cock sprang out of his boxers and he was able to get a good, firm grip on the shaft and begin stroking himself. “I normally don’t, um, I mean I’m usually able to control myself, it’s just… just, um….” He trailed off, unsure of what to say next. The truth was, he didn’t really know why he couldn’t stop himself from jacking off right there in the small apartment kitchen, any more than he knew why he peeled his shirt off to expose his muscular chest and rock-hard abdominals and darted out of the living room in a desperate search to find somewhere more private to masturbate before he couldn’t help exposing himself to a man he barely knew.

But he’d only made it as far as the kitchen, and of course Hal followed him to see what was the matter. “I just–I, I just can’t, can’t, um….” His hand moved swiftly up and down his shaft, lubricated by the leaking dribble of precum that kept flowing in tiny gushes out of the tip every time his fingers moved over it. “I d-don’t know what’s come… oh fuck… cum over me… I, oh, fuck, you’re going to think I’m some kind of a pervert, b-but….” Another surge of pleasure shot up his spine from his cock, making his eyes roll back in his head and rendering speech momentarily impossible. He was sure that at any moment, Hal would kick him out of the apartment for his lewd behavior, but the other man simply watched with a studious expression on his face.

It wasn’t even as though Donal could find a reason to explain his sudden, helpless arousal. Hal lived alone, he didn’t have a girlfriend–they weren’t even watching porn, for fuck’s sake! One moment Donal was sitting back on the couch, listening to some very pleasant and very boring conversation from his next-door neighbor and trying not to fall asleep at the end of a long day, and the next he had an absolute compulsion to get naked and play with his cock. “I… I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, unable to stop himself from wriggling his jeans down to his ankles and using his other hand to play with his balls. “I don’t know what this must look like to you.”

But Hal only smiled. “It looks like you’re a very good boy,” he purred, his voice sounding just as soft and low and soothing as it had back in the living room. Donal’s whole awareness zeroed in on the starburst of pleasure at the tip of his cock, and he fought to stop himself from spurting jizz all over his neighbor’s kitchen floor. “It looks like you’re very susceptible to suggestions, very nice and weak and obedient, and you just need a little bit more help to uncover the very good slave that we both know you can be. Isn’t that right, good boy?” Donal’s head swam. He tried to make sense of the words, but the more he struggled the foggier and blanker his brain seemed to get.

The strength went out of his limbs, and Donal found himself sinking to his knees as he continued to helplessly stroke his stiff cock. “Good, I… good… boy?” he mumbled, trying one last time to pierce the fog inside his head and really think about what Hal was saying. It was no good. His eyes rolled back in his head in blank, blissful ecstasy, and he heard himself murmuring, “Yes, Master,” as he finally shot his load all over the wood-patterned linoleum. Then he slumped down, exhausted, and he had just enough presence of mind to register the warm shaft pushing into his mouth before his resistance collapsed completely and everything went black.

(Like this flash fiction? Want to see more? Visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox or drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox if you like my work!)