Goddess' Most Loyal Pup

18+ HORNY BLOG

[collared-and-coddled]

This is a hard kinks blog so obvs minors dni. extending the dni to sissies and cissies. buh-bai you are not welcome here 👋

Loyal dog for my Goddess (Blessed Be Her Name)

[belovedvictim]

i just really really love the idea of being an accessory to rape. luring friends and classmates to my beloved rapist, shushing them when they get too loud or hurting them if they're not being loud enough, sniffing and licking their feet while they're raped like it doesn't even register to me at all, holding their hands as they look between me and her with such betrayal in their eyes, gently praising them for being such perfect victims. i know that not even directly getting off to it just makes me even worse in their eyes, and I'm perfectly at peace with it because the look on their faces when they're so scared and hurt and angry is just so intoxicating

[beatrix--stonehill]

Mandy never felt more confident. She walked the campus grounds, turning heads like crazy, getting compliments, catcalls, even a few guys filmed her as she walked by. Part of her couldn't believe this was really happening, the shock of it hadn't truly set in, and yet.... she was anything but upset. Far from it, almost grateful about the worst violation anybody ever inflicted on her. She watched every guy's eyes scroll up and down her body, the confidence she walked with now, and the vulnerability that came with her new self....

Only a month ago, Mandy went out on a boat alone with a bunch of frat boys. They knew she was from a rich family, she figured they wanted to liquor her up and have some fun, get in close with her, make some connections. At first, everything was playful, until they drove out to a certain point, and the guys all grinned, declaring they were over international waters. Mandy got a bit afraid, as all the men started undressing.

She tried to smile, nervously accepting she was about to get fucked hard. For hours on end. And she did. Mandy was quite sheltered, naive and timid, she craved a sexual awakening at college, and got far more than she bargained for. After nearly an hour of sex, one guy took out straps, tying off her arms. She assumed they might give her drugs.... oh no. Another got a saw, like for slicing lumber, a nasty thing with very sharp teeth. Mandy protested, but they held her down, telling her she'll look so much sexier when they were done.

And they were right. Many sat there as the guys drank, casually talking, letting Mandy recover, slightly woozy. She watched them throw her arms overboard for the sharks, observing her new form, tied-off stumps dripping a tiny bit of blood still, not even sewn up. It turned her on to no end. She bit her lip and asked for another beer. They fed it to her, sip by sip, and she immediately loved the intimacy of being armless. The men were so much more courteous to her now, helping her do everything.

Once she got back and recovered, her incident was quickly swept under the rug as boys being boys. And Mandy was left wanting nothing else but to flaunt her armless figure. Somehow it enhanced her body so much, and she leaned into her own helplessness. Thanking everyone who does things for her, refusing to use prosthetics. She'd ask other people to help her eat, get the door, help her change, shower, use the bathroom. And both men and women were happy to oblige, groping her as they helped her. The whole thing became one big fun kinky game between them all, and her sex life was never better. Just the awakening she craved. She wondered what it'd be like if she went all the way and lost her legs, too....

[x-x-x-x-x-x-x79]

🩸I’ve been up to a lot in the past year. Let’s start with this recent 72 piercing set I did. She bled a lot. Probably the most blood I’ve dealt with my whole career but man it was beautiful! 🩸

[k1ntsug1-r0b0t-g1rl]

fuck im 3 pages into this book and im hit with the line "The dirty little secret about growing up as a boy is if you're not any good at it, they will torture you daily until you have the good graces to kill yourself"

[k1ntsug1-r0b0t-g1rl]

anyone reblogging this with to some degree of "oh cis boys also deal with this" can fuck off.

I want you to just think for a fraction of a second about who is doing the torturing, what group of people are holding up this standard that kills so many of my sisters?

[k1ntsug1-r0b0t-g1rl]

you cannot be serious

[jammed-out-deactivated20260223]

Being a toy means you're useful. Toys are meant to be played with, enjoyed, treasured, used. You are cared for and then put away until the next time you are needed. A toy is someone's favorite thing. They can't wait to play with their toy. Doesn't being a toy sound so much better than being a person?

[pansy-butch]

I AM SOMETBING PRETENDING TO BE HUMAN i have always been something pretending to be human i have always pretended to be human i have always been more thing than person i am something pretending to be human

[esthermika]

new research suggests that you should be getting hypnotized 1-2 times a day to stay healthy.

[trainwreck-of-thoughts]

Vampires can't enter your mind without permission.

You thought that it was homes? Oh, no, common misconception, how would that even work? Like, is there a supernatural land registry somewhere? No, vampires can enter your home just fine.

So anyway, your mind. Obviously, it means they need permission to control your mind - but that's hardly the whole story. Talking to someone may influence your thoughts, reading their written words most certainly will, and even seeing someone is enough. Don't people enter your mind simply by appearing before you?

In other words, unless you grant them permission, you can't see vampires. You can't hear vampires, can't feel vampires, you would even struggle to think about particular ones. You can at most deduce the existence of vampires in general, or have it explained to you, and at that point you have a choice.

You can close yourself off, keep living your life as you always do, and accept the small but real chance that one day, something will ambush you in the streets, drain you of your blood, and leave you to your fate - something you couldn't even notice in any real way. All that would reach you would be the dizziness and tiredness that your loss of blood demands. Unpleasant to imagine, I'm sure.

But the alternative is to grant the vampires permission. All of them, by necessity, because it's not like you could pick out anyone in particular. Once given the right to impose on your senses, you'll find them everywhere - in nightclubs, on subway trains, on rooftops at night. They generally don't bother with blending in - why would they?

Still, it would be unwise to show any indication you can see them. After all, you've turned yourself into a rare commodity - the sort of mortal they can control, not merely feed upon. Reveal your gift, and they'll hunt you without cease. Evade them for too long, and they'll go after your loved ones - and warning those only creates more potential servants. You will, in time, be caught, and your new master will annihilate your mind, eager to strip out the smallest trace of rebellion. The broken thrall that remains would hardly be worthy of the title 'person'.

A cruel choice, right? But there's a way out. Invite the vampires in - then find one, fall to your knees, and pledge yourself to it. Beg for the permission to retain most of your mind, and hope your wish is granted. Live on as something that, if not free, can at least be happy. Perhaps it sounds unpleasant - but is it not the best of your options?

Yes, of course I chose that very servitude. Of course I am only telling you this because I was commanded to. Of course it's not just us two in this room. Someone has extended you a very generous offer - how will you respond? How do you expect refusal to be treated?

As I said, it's a cruel choice. But knowing what you know now, aren't you thankful for the opportunity? Aren't you happy you get a choice at all?

[unproblematicmom]

After I'm done abusing you, I let you cry for some minutes. I take pity on you. I gently rub your back. I ask you if you need anything. You don't reply. I tell you to stay put. You know your place, so you do. I come back with a glass of water and a blanket. I hand you the water and I tell you to drink it. You look at me. You can't trust me, but you've been crying all night long. You figure you need it, so you drink. I cover you up with the blanket. I rub your back, I run my fingers through your hair, I caress your thighs. You feel dirty. Hollow. Broken

I tell you to take it slow. Drink your water. I'll be right back. I go to the bathroom and turn the shower on. I let the bath tub fill up. I come back and tell you to come back with me. We enter the bathroom and it's nice and warm. You have a pit in your stomach. You're not sure of what I'll make you do. I tell you to get in the shower, as I grab the blanket and take it off for you. You get in. The water is warm. You sit there, letting the water wash away the memories. You try reaching out for the shampoo, but I get it for you. I start washing you

You're dirty. Full of bruises and marks. It hurts. I tell you that I'll tend to them later. I'll wash your hair first. You feel like I didn't enjoy hurting you. Maybe that's what I want you to think. You're having a hard time processing what happened. Why am I being so soft, caring and gentle? You know I'm just manipulating you. Trying to make you feel like I care about your well-being. Maybe I just don't want my toy to break. You're not sure of what to think. But you feel cleaner now

When we're done, I help you get out and dry yourself. You notice I don't even try touching you. You go sit on my bed. I got you some nice clothes. Too nice. They're also exactly your size. They're clothes that you would enjoy wearing, if not for the fact that your rapist is giving them to you. You put them on anyways. I come back after you're done dressing with some ice packs and painkillers. I take care of your bruises, and I got you some more water to help drink some pills. You trust me, and you do as I tell you. I want the best for you

I rub your back, and your legs. I take such good care of you. You don't even recognize me anymore, but it feels nice. You enjoy this. You almost want this to happen again, just so I could softly wash your hair again, just so I could make you feel like someone loves you and cares about you. The pit in your stomach starts to hurt again. I continue to take care of your bruises, and I also apply some antibiotic ointments on your cuts. It stings. I dress them with bandages, and you feel a lot better. You really feel like I'm doing this for you

I tell you to go to the bathroom and pee. I can tell you've been holding it. Your legs are shaking. Your body is squirming. I ask if you need any help. You tell me you got this. You go and take your time. You don't understand why I'm being so thorough, why I'm taking such good care of you. You assume I'm just trying to manipulate you, or to give you a false sense of security. And it's working. I come back and enter the bathroom just as you're done. You feel embarrassed. I wordlessly come next to you. Your adrenaline rushes. You begin to feel scared again. But I just take some toilet paper and clean you. You freeze in place. I ask if you need help getting up. You don't reply. I pull your underwear and pants back up, and I help you get up and come back to bed with me

I made you dinner. There's a lot of food. Your legs are shaking and you feel weak. There's that pit in your stomach. You wonder if it's hunger. Once you think about it, you realize you're starving, and you begin to eat. You feel shy and embarrassed. I tell you that you're doing well. That you did so well today. I tell you to eat slowly and to enjoy the food. I made it specially for you. You notice that it's a lot of food you like. I even brought you pastries and snacks. I get close to you, and tell you that I'll be leaving. I kiss the back of your neck. You want to cry. I tell you that I'll be back later. We'll do this all over again. And you better get used to it. Don't worry. I'll take good care of you. You'll learn to love your rapist. You'll enjoy being raped. You'll crave that feeling, and you'll feel so relieved once it's over, because you know I love you and will take good care of you

[unproblematicmom]

If I'm raping you, it's because I'm in love with you. There's no other explanation. I want you that badly

As in, romantically. What is more romantic than me telling you I want to do one of the worst things I can to you, until you enjoy it and depend on me for pleasure?

I need to rape you. I don't want anything else. I'll turn all that hate you'll have for me the first time I rape you, into undivided love and adoration. I'll do this for you. You deserve it. You deserve me

[ori-anna-v-58008]

"My son was completely fine"

Your daughter smiles when I tell her to lick my boot. She grins when I threaten her with electric shocks. When I put the barrel of a loaded gun in her mouth, she lets it go all the way to the base, her eyes fixed dead on the hammer.

Completely fine, yes; for a pilot of her station. She's doing exactly what she should be. But as a son? That poor, useless thing, working variably dead-eyed behind the counter at a dead-end job or nowhere at all? Entirely insufficient.

She talks about you sometimes. Not in any recognizable way, of course; nothing she could possibly understand as motherhood exists in her memories. Not of you, not of anyone. Just dreams. Dreams of a mysterious, distant woman and an unfamiliar voice telling her she's wrong. I'll admit, you've been useful at times; she is often wrong. But training out your unhelpful damage to her has been a hassle to say the least. I've never seen a pilot so reckless, so ignorant of its own pain, so tolerant of Hell, until I met your daughter.

I have no jurisdiction on Earth unless one of my pilots is stationed there. She has been instructed to stay far away from that planet, to keep you far away from her. These two things do not mean I would not gun you down the moment I saw you if I was given the opportunity. I suspect watching your limp, lifeless body, gushing blood from every bullet hole would heal Pilot #502 in a way no amount of forced amnesia, no amount of sedation, no amount of re-education ever could.

I'm sure you've heard the stories; you've probably shared some yourself. Young men disappear one day. A simple note, a calling card left in their place, emblazoned with the insignia of Station Delta. We have quite the reputation among broken mothers, blinded by the tears in their eyes and the fantasies they tell themselves, as nothing more than kidnappers. Some kind of wicked draft desperate to take their beloved sons from them; those sons they never gave another look to until they were already under our care.

We don't mind it. A scared populace is useful. But mark my words, and repeat them at your own peril:

She chose this.

And you dare cry for her?

[butch-corvid]

give me a black eye that i’ll have to explain away to all my friends, all the concerned cashiers and baristas and waiters and passengers who see me with a dark bruise encircling my eye, swelling it up, maybe a burst blood vessel in my eye to really draw attention to it.

who did that to you? deny deny deny, say some guy punched me while I was out the other day, say I got elbowed in a crowd, say i’m just clumsy. it doesn’t matter if they don’t believe me, they just agree that it’s good i have you to look out for me.

and when more bruises start to cover my body, when I put on long sleeves even when the weather gets warmer, when I wear cover ups at the beach… I tell people I just get cold easily. It’s a good thing you’re there to warm me up when I curl into you, letting your fingers seek out my bruises in the dark space between our bodies while I fight to stay quiet.

[esthermika]

While it's technically true that i've become more religious as i age, i don't think my parents would approve of me worshiping my Goddess' boots'.

[esthermika]

being collared is really nice, it's like a hug that never leaves you

[educating-bimbos]

It is still pretty funny that a lot of people that like my blog and spam like my patriarchy kink stuff are fairly normal outwardly feminist blogs. I know who you are, you know who you are. Lets just keep that between us.

[mean-tgirl-dyke]

if you aren't currently touching yourself to the thought of trans girls raping you, you're transphobic. fix that.