18+ blog only. 27Fsub, CA. DM's wide open! Also have a Reddit with my eroticas, under the same username ( @bubblegumpop9500 ) But fyi: I do NOT send nooD3s.
Let me make it very freaking clear that this is all fantasy. I am a huge, huge feminist in real life. This is an outlet for my sexual fantasies, as I process my own trauma. Please remember this as you scroll.
warnings â mdni. pure smut. literally no plot at all, just smut. light choking, ass slapping, unprotected p in v, creampie. no use of y/n. reader is referred to as girl a couple times. slight possessiveness but theyâre not really in a relationship. not a whole lot of dialogue on the readers end. quickly proofread as always! let me know if iâm missing anything!
word count â 1k
a/n â hey⊠how yâall doin. i PROMISE i am working on the requests sitting in my inbox but i NEEDED to get this out of my system. i donât know if anyone will even read this honestly i just needed to get it out after finishing untamed. wilsonâs characters are infecting my brain guys itâs so bad đ anyway, here is some mid smut hehe
feedback is always appreciated <3
ââââââ .âŠ
The sticky feeling, salty smell of sweat is encapsulated in the two person tent that Shane had set up earlier in the day after moving his campsite. The dying campfire outside provided just enough light inside the tent to see what you were doing so that the two of you werenât fumbling through your movements.
He currently has you face down on your knees, taking you from behind. The sound of skin slapping as the snap of his hips makes contact with the back of your thighs fills the tent, along with your breathy whines. Youâre glad that youâre far enough away into the park where no other campers are tonight.
One of his hands is gripping you by your hips, pulling you back to meet the brutal snap of his hips while the other is squeezing at the globes of your ass greedily, hungrily. âLook so good taking my dick like this. Doing so well, you know that?â He questions, voice gravelly as he sharply swats at the fatty tissue with his large hand, the sound ringing out through the tent and your ears.
A quick yelp makes its way past your lips and all you can do is nod your head to answer himâbut it isnât a good enough response for him. His hips abruptly stop their movement and you whine, pushing yourself back against him to urge him to keep going.
He grips your hips firmly with his hands, pausing you from any movement. âAht, aht,â he scolds you in disapproval, âAsked you a question, girl.â He says, voice low.
âYes. Yes. Look so good, taking you so well. Pleaseâplease, Shane, keep going.â You manage to get out in between breaths, still trying to push your hips back against him, but the grip of his hands on your hips is too strong for you to fight against.
âThere we go,â a patronizing laugh falls from his lips, then a deep, rough strokeâhard enough to push your face further into the sleeping bag that the two of you were positioned on. âKnew you had it in you.â The words themselves are words of praise, but they sound mean, condescending coming from him.
He stays positioned inside of you, but you feel him readjusting. âUp.â He says, and you know itâs a command and not an option, so you follow it, pushing yourself up so that your hands are supporting your weight. He snakes his arm underneath your body, then up around you so that itâs crossed over top of your chest. He pulls your body back against his and heâs now sitting back on his feet, holding you against him.
You slump back against him, your back now pressed against his chest. He uses one hand to grip at your hip, hard enough that you know there will be a bruise there tomorrow. Your head lulls to the side and you feel him swipe his tongue against your jaw, nipping at the bone with his teeth.
He takes his other hand and wraps it around your neck, squeezing it gently on the sides to add pressure, then he finally begins to move again. He continues with his brutal pace, the new angle causing the head of his dick to press against the most sensitive parts of your walls.
You feel his hot breath against your neck as he fucks himself up into you now. He snakes his hand down from your hip to between your legs, using his fingers to rub circles against your clit.
âGonna make you come, yeah?â He breathes out, his hips jerking up into you faster. âThen Iâm gonna come inside you. Fill you so full of me.â The circles heâs pressing against your clit are becoming faster, quick whines and pants are falling from your mouth as you feel the familiar knot start to form in your stomach. Youâre close and he knows it. âCome on, girl. Come for me, come all over my dick.â He tells you, placing wet kisses against your jawline.
His verbal coaxing mixed with the deep drags of his dick against your tight walls are enough to push you over the edge. Youâre grasping at his hand thatâs placed on your throat as your body melts further against him, against his touches, and youâre letting out breathy moans of his name as the waves of your orgasm crashes into you.
Heâs fucking you through it, still rubbing circles against your clit. âAtta girl, thatâs my girl.â His words of praise are sweeter now, but the snap of his hips is still meanâunrelenting. Youâre starting to become over sensitive, too fucked out to respond and tears are falling freely from your eyes.
Youâre clenching around him through the aftershocks of your orgasm, and itâs enough to pull his own from him. âFuck, sheâs clenching me,â his voice is raw and you feel his grip around your neck tighten again as hot spurts paint your walls full of him. âSo full of me. Youâre mine.â He says finally, possessively. His movements are stilling, but he holds you close to him, still inside you.
He stays that way for a moment, both of your chests are heaving as you try to regain some air. His grip on your neck loosens before he gently places you back down against the sleeping bag on your stomach, pulling out of you in the process. You feel empty without him inside of you now.
He sits back against his feet again, reaching over for a wet rag that he had placed inside the tent earlier that night. He runs it down both of your arms, then your legs, doing his best to wipe the sweat away. âDoinâ okay?â He mutters, looking towards your face as your eyes are closed.
âMhm.â You respond, nodding your head weakly. He chuckles, using the rag to now wipe the sticky sweat from his own body before tossing it to the side of the tent.
âStill want to go out with me in the morning? Another report of sick deer that I gotta check into.â He asks, situating himself now so that heâs lying on the second sleeping bag thatâs beside you.
He watches as you nod in response, a small sound of agreement escaping you. He leans over and places a quick kiss against your hairlineâas much softness as he ever gives you, then turns back over to fall asleep.
Iâve been thinking a lot about tying you up and keeping you all to myself.
Not for a little weekend fun. I mean for long enough that you stop counting the days. Long enough that the rope starts to feel like it belongs etched into your skin, like your wrists have always been bound behind your back and your ankles have always been spread apart and this is just how your body is shaped now. I want you to forget what it feels like to close your legs.
And I want to be the only thing that feels good. Thatâs the part I keep coming back to. I want to edge you stupid on my cock and then pull out and let you sit there shaking and desperate with nothing to grind against because Iâve taken everything away. Nothing to fall back on. Just your own wetness dripping down your thighs and the memory of how I felt inside you and the slow maddening understanding that you canât do anything about it until I come back and give you more.
But donât worry, Iâll always come back. Thatâs how the addiction works. Iâll fuck you slow and deep until your eyes roll back and your brain turns off and youâre right there right at the edge and then Iâll stop. Pull out. Watch your hips try to follow me. Watch you pull against the ropes trying to get closer to the only thing in your world that makes the ache stop. Youâll beg. Youâll say things youâd never say if you had the use of your hands or any dignity left. And Iâll stroke your face and tell you youâre doing so well and slide back in just to feel your whole body shake with relief.
Every time I use you youâll gets more desperate for it. Every time I pull out the absence gets louder. Eventually youâre not thinking about the ropes at all. Youâre not thinking about being untied. Youâre only thinking about my cock. When itâs in you youâre alive and warm and full and safe. When itâs not youâre empty and aching and counting the seconds. Two states of being. Full of me, or waiting to be.
I want to fuck you so many times that your body only responds to me. I want to ruin you for anyone else. I want to untie you eventually and watch you stay exactly where I put you because youâve gotten so comfortable. You want to keep your legs open. You want to be ready for me. The ropes were for the beginning, when you still had opinions about what was happening to you. You donât need them anymore. Youâll hold the position on your own because the position means you get my cock and my cock is the only thought left in your pretty empty head.
There's being nude, and then there's feeling naked. The mutilated tee shirt makes her feel so much more exposed and vulnerable to the clamps than merely being topless ever could!
There's being nude, and then there's feeling naked. The mutilated tee shirt makes her feel so much more exposed and vulnerable to the clamps than merely being topless ever could!
Perhaps you feel humiliated. Thatâs good because that will remind you to be humble before your husband. He is entitled to ask what he wants, and you have an obligation to meet their desire without even thinking.
What sort of transgression warrants him using the cane?
Oofâjust reading that question sends a little wave of anxiety through me. I really donât like the cane I definitely go out of my way to avoid earning. When he brings it out, it means Iâve crossed a line he takes seriously.
The few times heâs used it on me have been when Iâve broken his trust. Misleading him, softening the truth, or trying to protect myself instead of being honest. Thatâs something heâs very clear about: honesty isnât optional in our dynamic. If Iâve made a mistake, Iâm expected to own it fully. Trying to hide it only makes it worse.
These days, itâs less about actually being used and more about what it represents.
It sits there as a kind of reminder. Whatever correction Iâm receivingâwhether itâs a strapping, or being sent to the corner, or just being told to settle myselfâI know it could always be taken further if I donât respond properly. That awareness is usually enough. I donât need to be pushed to that point anymore.
Earlier on, I struggled more with my tone. I could get sulky, or defensive, especially when I was already in trouble. That kind of attitude didnât last long. He was very consistent about correcting it, and over time I learned what was expected of me. Now, if I feel myself slipping. if thereâs even a hint of that edge in my voice, I catch it quickly. These days, all he has to do is give me a stern look and I make sure that I soften my voice and defer to his authority in an unambiguous way.
It's obviously more stuble when we're in public. I'll maybe put my arm under his if we're walking, or I'll ease back on talking, definitely lower the volume of my voice, and usually err on the side of mostly talking only when spoken to.
At home, when we're alone, it's a more dramatic gesture of pitulation. I drop to my knees, wait to be allowed to nuzzle his legs and told to get up. Or not. Sometimes he has me stay on my hands and knees for a few minutes. Sometimes I stay down there to drain his cock. Sometimes he just wants me off the furniture for a bit while he reads or watches tv.
A part of me has a bit of awe for the cane, because I fear it so much. The physical object is another totem of his dominion over me -- a thin wooden stick that can yield white-hot lines of pain. I respect the consistency behind it. I know he wonât use it lightly. I know he wonât forget what heâs said. And I know that if I stay attentive, honest, and soft in how I respond to him, I wonât need to be reminded.
I'll admit this dynamic sounds both so scary and yet I see the love in it. In a world with a lot of inconsistent/awful men, it means a lot when a man is putting that much thought and care into how he treats his woman. You can tell they both feel supported and enjoy this dynamic.
For myself, this a hot, bedroom/sex time-only idea I can have with my sex partners. Or maybe I should enjoy reading about it and remember not everyone (aka me) is not mentally cut out for it. đ
Ah, you didnât expect this, did you? That big fire, so perfect, so beautifulâjust a distraction. While you were running, I was there, pulling you into my car, locking you in. Tied, gagged, silentâhelpless. No way to speak, no way to escape. Just you and me now, sweet thing.
She barely even remembered him. Apparently he was some skinny nerd who grew up with her at school, who had been stalking her ever since. He waited, got everything together, plotted, until finally he took her.
He set up everything for her, she would be his wife... unofficially of course, they couldn't go to court since she was "technically" missing. But in reality she functioned as his slave wife.
And after waiting so long for her, he grew quite a temper. But he knew she would understand, how he needed to hurt her, in order to satisfy his desire to see her suffer. Of course, he'd tend to her and praise her afterwards, but she was his owned wife now. She had to obey him, and in order to do that, he had to teach her.
She was resistant at first, afraid, but she learned quickly.
Poor girl now spends her time under his control. Nipple clamps, denied an orgasm, humiliation- as he brings his other friends to see his victory catch and they humiliate her for fun- and of course- the fucking, the pussy whipping, all the pain he teaches her is a gift. His pleasure is her greatest gift.
Agreeing to enter into a relationship with a man should be the only decision a woman makes with him. It should be the only time her consent is taken into account. Because after making such a decision, all subsequent decisions within the couple must be made by the man and him alone. The man may, if he wishes, consider the woman's opinion, but the final decision always rests with him. For he, and he alone, is the Master of the relationship and of the woman who agreed to be bound to him and who, by doing so, agreed to give him complete power over her.
Nice and close now. Really right on the edge. Ready to cum as soon as I say.
âYes, Sir.â
Look at those little legs shaking.
âMmmnnnh⊠MhmâŠâ
Good girl. Listen, I noticed my clothes werenât in the dresser yet. Was there a problem with the laundry today?
âNo, I⊠oh I was so excited to cum today⊠I just forgotâŠâ
You forgot!
âYes, Sir⊠oh, Iâm so sorryâŠâ
And on your orgasm day, too.
âOh Sir, no⊠please donât let me cum.â
You donât want to cum?
âNo, Sir, I do but⊠I donât deserve it.â
Because you forgot your chore?
âMhm. Yes, Sir.â
Oh, youâre such a silly girl.
âWhat? What do you mean?â
What you just said! That was about the silliest thing I ever heard.
âWhy? I didnât do my chore, so I donât deserve to cum. Thatâs not silly, is it?â
Oh, yes, it is.
âReally?â
Really. Okay, stay just like that⊠right on the edge.
âUnnghhhh⊠Then I⊠nnnn⊠nnnggh⊠then I do deserve it?â
Oh, you are just the silliest little slut ever!
âSir, please⊠nnngh⊠I donât understand.â
Okay. Look at me. Stay on that edge. Harder. Harder. Look at me.
âOhhh⊠nnnnhhhhhhhâŠâ
Listen very carefully. You donât deserve to cum. You never deserve to cum. You never have and you never will. If I let you cum, itâs because itâs what I want for you, not ever because you deserve it.
âOh.â
âOhâ is right. Now I want that silly idea out of your little head right this minute.
âMmmnnhh⊠yes, Sir.â
Good. So, you understand now?
âYes, Sir. I donât deserve to cum because I never deserve it. But please⊠ohhhhâŠ. please donât let me.â
Donât worry, little slut. I wonât. Now letâs get you so so close. Thatâs my girl. I think we might see some tears when I take it away today, huh? I know how much you had been looking forward to this one.
nothing sounds prettier than a girl when I pin her thighs wide open and start spanking her bare, swollen pussy with slow, heavy slaps.
Each smack lands wet and sharp, making her jolt and gasp, and right then I lean in close and growl, âThereâs nothing you can do to stop me, baby. Not a single thing.â
Thatâs the moment her whimpers change â they get higher, softer, almost broken, like her brain finally catches up and realizes sheâs completely trapped under my hand. No escape, no mercy, just the steady rhythm of my palm turning her pretty pink pussy red and throbbing while those desperate little sounds spill out of her mouth, getting needier and prettier with every slap.
If you want to be a proper slut for the patriarchy, the first thing you need to do is surrender your orgasms.
Hand it over. Give men total authority over your pleasure. Maybe he locks you in a cage. Maybe he just forbids you from touching without permission. It doesn't matter how he does it, as long as you understand that youâre not allowed to cum unless he decides youâve earned it.
Thatâs the fastest way to rewire your brain.
When youâre denied release, that hunger builds. It takes over your entire nervous system. You stop thinking about your day, your job, your pathetic little opinions. All you can think about is him. All you can focus on is what you need to do to make him happy enough to let you cum.
You become a Pavlovian bitch. You learn that obedience equals pleasure, and resistance equals frustration.
Suddenly, you aren't arguing anymore. You aren't empowered. Youâre just a desperate, leaking hole willing to agree with anything and do anything to get his cock inside you.
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