i don't do bad sauce passes
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Misplaced Lens Cap
occasionally subtle
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Monterey Bay Aquarium
cherry valley forever
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YOU ARE THE REASON
Jules of Nature
Peter Solarz
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DEAR READER
trying on a metaphor
ojovivo
Kaledo Art
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@catboyproblems
"If you had been a good dog, I wouldn't have to do this to you" + you absolutely could not have controlled what you're being punished for
ESPECIALLY after desperately trying to stop the disallowed behavior as much as possible, no matter how futile, because you want to be a good dog
"Fuck, I should stop. I should really stop, I need to stop. Oh shit, I shouldn't be doing this, fuck, fuck, fuck" voted #1 thing to hear being panted over you for the millionth year in a row and counting
If you haven't lived a life of pain and exhaustion, it's easy to imagine you deserve comfort and pleasure by default. My job is to make you understand how those are not a given and then teach you how to demonstrate your gratitude once I bestow a rare moment of relief. Only when I'm sure you comprehend the depth of the privilege of living without suffering will I consider making things easier for you. My favorite pets are, of course, ones who understand this already, but I'll get you there.
today I’m thinking about this post I saw on Quora ages ago where someone asked if men could feel it when they hit a person’s cervix, and if it hurts them.
& one guy responded: “it does not hurt us, it, unfortunately for you, feels absolutely incredible.” (first, the phrase “unfortunately for you” made me wet immediately. Like yeah, it hurts for me, but it feels incredible for him, so I’m just going to have to take it)
but the part that really got me was at the end of his response, where he said “You may not like that i like your cervix, but I like your cervix.”
Because yeah, for many people, getting your cervix hit is absolutely agonizing. When they’re fucked a little too hard, too deep, it makes them shriek, or flinch, or sob, and they won’t enjoy it one bit. Well, I’m lucky enough that cervical stimulation is very pleasurable, but what if it wasn’t? What if I hated it?
I can’t stop imagining someone pinning me down and forcing me to just take it.
They’re already so big that they fill me completely before they’ve even bottomed out, but when they start thrusting, the tip of their cock nails something deep inside of me, deeper than I’ve ever had anything before. And fuck, it hurts so much, it makes me wail. And they notice this, because of course they do. They go aw, baby, did that hurt? And I nod, expecting them to readjust, to find a new angle. But instead, they pull my hips back towards them, and start aiming their thrusts to get as deep as they can, to hit that spot, to bruise it. They’re doing it on purpose. I beg them to slow down, to stop, because I can’t take it, it’s too much, fuck, it hurts so badly, I don’t like it anymore, but they ignore me. They tell me that it’s too bad, because it feels incredible for them, my cervix is perfect to grind against, the pressure is so good, so I’m just going to have to take it, because they’re not gonna stop. Oh, I don’t like it? Am I sure? Because it sure looks like I’m enjoying it, and the way I’m soaking wet for them makes it feel like I’m enjoying it, too. Why would they stop when I’m crying so prettily for them?
They’re raping me so brutally that I’m screaming and shaking underneath them, and I’ve lost track of how many orgasms they’ve forced out of me. And they’re not done. They’ll force themselves even deeper, rape my fucking cervix if they have to— it’d probably be tighter than my cunt anyways, and of course they don’t care if it hurts me, because that just makes it better for them. It’s not “too big”, they’ll make it fit, and that’s a promise.
Here’s the original quora post btw. 😵💫😵💫
"Wow you're short" so fuck me about it. If I'm so small then fill my little cunt with your massive cock and pound into me till I'm crying and begging you to cum inside me and breed me. That's like the whole point of little bunnies like me, is to be fucktoys for everyone
need to be called a pretty little faggot while you're bottoming out inside me thanks
Hypnosis that affects your perception is so hot. You’ll be having a totally normal conversation completely unaware that you’ve got fingers down your throat and every word you’ve been saying has come out in moans and choking noises. You think everything is perfectly normal, unaware that your face is getting shoved in a pillow and a thick cock is about fuck you raw.
you're just a tasty piece of meat. it doesn't matter that you whimper and plead for mercy, you'll just get my prey drive spinning like crazy. you think, maybe, if I lay still, and try to remain quiet, she'll lose interest, go find another cunt to ruin. but I've already got you underneath me. my bitchbreaker has been bumping against your cervix for, fuck, forever? you lost track of time long ago.
you go quiet and still, trying to evade my hunger, but you achieve nothing except getting me angry. I sink my teeth into your neck, my powerful jaws leaving horrific marks in your soft skin. I growl menacingly and my jaw clenches tighter. so much for being quiet; you're screaming now, and it just makes me chew on you harder, growl deeper, slam my cock into you faster. you feel so alive and I eat up every bit of it. you know now, for certain, that this only stops when the wolf ripping you apart wants it to, and nothing you do can change that.
Surprising you by asking if you want to make out, and you're so flustered that you acquiesce even if you're not sure you want to, but when we sit down on the couch, I just lift your shirt and start to make out with your nipples while you're frozen with shock and overwhelmed by sensation, on and on, until you're sore and squirming. Every time you try to protest, I just try different sensations using more pressure or pain until you can't form a sentence so I can go back to enjoying myself. And when I'm satisfied, I just pull your shirt back down and move on like nothing happened!
Now that you've let me do it once, I keep asking to "make out" with increasing expectation that you'll say yes whenever and wherever I want, until I'm pulling you into closets and hidden corners and behind doors without warning just to tease and play with your nipples. The demanding forcefulness gets you turned on more easily every time, until within moments you're whimpering and squeezing your legs together, and eventually you try to guide my hand to your lap, and I pull it back and make fun of you for being so easy to turn on after just a little making out.
set a timer for your sub for 10 minutes. tell it it has until the timer goes off to make itself cum. if it doesn't cum in that time, it doesn't cum at all.
record the amount of time it takes to cum. set the next timer for that amount of time. see if it can beat its own record.
repeat. and repeat. and repeat. how fast and pathetic can it be? how much can you ruin it's stamina? can you get to the point where it cums within mere minutes of being touched? seconds?
once it's trained like this do away with the timer. start employing strict punishments for cumming too quickly/without permission. you've primed it to fail.
you're welcome.
puppy's disabeld traumatised brain tired of thinking,, need this kind of treatmenet,, drools
Right now my dog, canine, is sitting on the couch with her head propped against the couch arm. The window is open, and she's watching the rain fall. Occasionally, a car will pass and her ears will perk to listen to the rumble of the motor. She hasn't moved in an hour and a half. Before this she woke just long enough for me to feed her a bite of food from my fingers I know she shouldn't have.
Later, she'll get agitated when a delivery driver approaches the neighbor's door. Her anxiety will spike. Her ears will go back, and I will see the bark build in her throat until...
She looks to me.
"Is this what you want?" The question isn't spoken with words, just a glance from worried eyes before I shake my head and she calms down.
I don't care, why should she? The driver, the stress, the anxiety, is all forgotten.
She'll sleep this way a good portion of the day, woken by my attention before she'll fall back asleep or find some new thing to quietly consider. I decide when it's time for her to eat, to go out. When it's time for her to be dressed in a warmer outfit. Her food decisions are made for her, nutrition balance and calorie needs something she never needs to consider.
When needed, communication is silent, non-verbal. A soft expression, a steady look. She knows I'll figure it out eventually if she just sits by the problem. (Water bowls empty, or toy on the wrong side of the door)
There's an extra spot on the couch next to her. Where another dog could curl up and watch the rain. Where a sweet puppy could take cues from the older dog and the calmness of her handler.
Treatment like that sweet thing?
Anal training but instead of stretching you out so you can take it better, I deny your hole for weeks at a time so you never get used to me using it. I need it to be uncomfortable and difficult for you whenever I decide to brutalize your perfect little hole so you cry and beg me to stop like a good little painwhore.
A domme with two doggirls that gets them way too riled up.
You know how easy it is to play too hard with either of them, not to mention both. You know it's dangerous when you have a pair bonded that closely, how easily it is for them to push the other into more extreme moods.
You don't listen to good sense though. You think you can handle them. You've worked so hard on all their commands, you've worked for hours on recall, on "drop it." You thought you could handle them without their muzzles, without their safety gear.
You didn't worry, not at first, when they started looking at you the same way they look at their enrichment toys.
You started to worry when their play started to focus more on you, than the toys you kept trying to distract them with. Your hands first. "Accidental" little nips that remind you how sharp their teeth are. Your fingers caught between jaws that could chew them off, but released after only a threatening moment.
Until they weren't satisfied with that and they throw their weight into you.
One of them, you could have pushed off, maybe, but both working together? You were on the ground before you could consider calling out for help.
Play turns to something more insistent. Mouths and noses and paws working to tear away your training tools, your clothes, your defenses left scattered around you. The pair growl over you like a steak, snapping at each other in dominance displays, arguing over who gets what. You don't have time to consider what it means for you. Your panicked mind is reeling, unable to find a way out.
You feel one of them pressing against your ass. You don't have a chance to scream before fingers are pushing into your mouth. You're left drooling over yourself, grunting as the first of them takes her prize. The hound you thought you could control wrapping fingers around your throat as she takes you from behind.
Until you find out that dominance spat isn't over. Teeth longer than your fingers snapping by your face as the pair clash over your body. Each of them tearing at the other, at you, creating a feedback loop that only drives them deeper and deeper into their crazed state.
You feel one being pushed out of you so the other can take her place. Back and forth, the two slipping in and out as they war for territory.
Finally your body will yield. Opening up to the pair of them. The snapping teeth and exchange of growls shifting to mutual whimpers of pleasure as they frot inside your body.
It's a lot, taking the pair. Each of them enough to stretch you on their own, but together it's enough it feels like your insides have to rearrange to fit them both.
For awhile you'll focus on just that. Feeling that fullness, feeling your body become forcably devoted to a singular purpose. No more strength left, all you can do is clutch at one of them as each stroke pushes them just a little deeper. Reshapes you just a bit more.
You'd have no real choice but to ride it out. As you grew used to their paired size and started relaxing, your body would start to surrender to the pleasure. It wouldn't be long before you were soaking their lap, clutching at them for support, shaking through your first of many climaxes.
At least by this point you'd be too far gone to hear our laughter. You'd never make out our teasing exchange over your shoulder.
"So soon?"
"Where's the fight?"
"We already broke this one's squeeker"
"We haven't even tied you yet."
That would drag you out of whatever empty minded state you'd sunken into. Our knots. Nowhere to escape, too weak from your pointless struggles.
No choice but to take it.
"Just breath through it. Relax."
Whatever time we took stretching you out between us wouldn't be enough, but by now you would have run out of tears. Just shaking between us with a sick sense of pride that you could take us both.
Doggirl top but you have to take her to the vet. Doggirl top but she's cranky and bitey so you have to muzzle her. Doggirl top that gives the most pathetic whines in the car because this isn't the way to the park. Doggirl top you get a little embaressed over when it snaps at one of the nurses during check in. Doggirl top that has to be sedated to finally be examined.
I want to play with a couple where one is very clearly my pet/tool. I'll find somewhere nice to settle, with a perfect view of each so I can watch their expressions shift and change as the scene progresses.
"Take the crop. Strike the right shoulder. Again. Again."
"Scruff her throat and squeeze until I give the release command."
"Slower, neither of you are allowed to climax."
The scene will progress exactly as I set it out, with each partner slowly growing desensitized to who they're participating with. I want you to slowly forget who this person under you is, as you start to think of yourself as less of a person.
"Bite, harder."
"Slap it. Again. Again. Again."
Not a person any longer, not a partner, but a tool. Maybe a doll I'm pressing to another in a mockery of playing house. Or maybe I've worked you up into the mindset of a feral dog that knows nothing but teeth and claws and has a sick obsession for the whimpers of the prey animal under you.
I want to separate you from the feelings that keep you from hurting it.
Not for long, just a few breathless hours.
When you finally pull yourself out of the mindset, what will you feel I wonder? When you look back at the memories of the night, when you see the bruises on her body, when she flinches from your movements, will it be guilt that overwhelms you? Or will you find yourself finally able to indulge now that nothing is holding you back?
I'm going to borrow your girlfriend.
We've been talking a lot and she admitted she has this "dark" fantasy. You know it right? Yeah, the one where she's hunted down and raped. Of course, we've already established safe words. I've even worked out some non verbal cues with her in case she can't speak. Don't worry, I've done this kind of thing a lot. She'll be in good hands.
It's going to be a long weekend. I like to do things right, and that means taking my time hollowing her out. You should have something to distract you. Yeah, she won't be able to text between moments either. I find it ruins the energy of the scene. Plus there's no reception up in the cabin I'm taking her to.
Oh no, that was the first mistake I made. Took the girl home, her screaming had the neighbors pounding on my door within the minute. So now I bring them somewhere with a nice view where they can scream till they've lost their pretty voice. I think it lends to the weight of the scene too, knowing the only way up or down is with an off road vehicle.
I'll bring it back Sunday evening. Most of the clothes it wore will be ruined, so I'll leave it in a little blanket bundle on your doorstep.
You'll want to clean it up after. A nice warm bath, a quiet time to cry. Just let it vent those emotions for a few days. You're going to need to change its bandages until it can manage on its own.
I know you're going to feel ashamed, but trust me. It's normal to feel turned on when you see its broken form. Don't feel guilty. Ask it what happened as you touch yourself. Make it describe each depraved thing I did to it. Give in to your needs and take it while its body is still swollen and tender.
So I'll pick her up around 7?
Training you to lie limp like a doll, reinforcing your restraint with praise and pleasure. Any time you get too tense and start clenching and moving, I back off, gently reminding you that your job is to be a good toy, and toys don't move. You get what I give you, and nothing more. And until you ease back and calm your breathing, allowing that distant, hazy look to steal over your face, I just wait patiently, guiding you with my voice alone to melt, to relax, to be a good doll for me.
It might take a while, but eventually I can have you barely moving from the first touch to the last. The instant I start, weakness and heat overtake your body. Toys get used, toys don't move... Focusing on the refrain, you feel eager pleasure building inside you as I chase relief. So desperate to please, now brought to the cusp by lying there limp and soft. Until finally, after enough teasing and edging, you manage to finish just from being used by me. Untouched, chest just barely rising with breath, seized by involuntary pulses of tension in the release. Lying motionless, getting off only to entertain me. My perfect toy.
Any time you hear "freeze", you go limp. Any time you go limp, you get used. Any time you get used, you get to cum. You feel me arrange you on the bed to my liking, lie there unresponsive as I move you, climb onto you, then thrust into you carelessly, just stroking off with your body. You barely tense anymore at the intrusion, but the chain of events is so well programmed now. I can feel you tighten as your pleasure, however irrelevant, climbs all the same.
"You love being a doll, don't you? You're just a toy now. You were always meant for this, weren't you? So warm and soft for me, so open and easy..."
And you just stare, eyes half-lidded, into the distance without a word. But everything I say lodges deep inside you somewhere, making it harder and harder to remember what not being my toy was like. And you can't deny how good that feels.
