20s, any pronouns, Minors/Terfs DNI. A place for me to enjoy and write about all sorts of fucked up stuff. I enjoy writing/reading Doms and Subs of all genders and combinations
Intox is always "drug you and rape you when you're unconscious" and not enough "drug you just enough to make you stupid and clumsy and unable to fight back but fully aware of what's happening and whimpering in fear the whole time"
I love seeing girls after sex being so tired that they can barely move, simply content to lay there naked in bliss.
I want to see that with you except it's after I raped you. You'd be crying, shaking, and badly bruised and beaten. I'd kiss you on the back of your neck gently and caress you. Yes, I raped you. Yes, you deserved it. Yes, I came inside you even though you begged me not to because you're not on the pill. Yes, I'm going to do it again. And yes, it's ok that you enjoy it. In fact, now that you're completely drained, I think I'll just rape you again right now, this time very gently. Since I don't have to deal with your struggling and stupid comments like "please stop!" I can properly focus on your pleasure. Your clit really needs some attention. God, you're such a good little slut for me. You're so easy to rape. Just a bit of slapping and choking and you're already soaked.
- LMN :)
hehe pls! would so cute n helpless under u as I whine from ur touch. plsplspls kiss my clit after u rape me n tell me I'm good! rape me the first time to make me weak n then do it again softer to make me fall in love ❤️ all dependent on u for pleasure n nothing feels the same without u
Note: The clit box/pussy portal concept is one I’ve seen floating around the internet since forever and I think it’s sooooo hot so here’s my take on it teehee
He’d finally done it.
His fingers trailed over the box's cool, seamless edges. A marvel of engineering, deceptively simple in its sleek titanium casing. No one would guess what lived inside. Who lived inside.
Because there, nestled in precision, pulsed a perfect replica of her pussy. Every fold, every nerve ending, every flush of blood beneath soft skin, atomically identical. Synapses wired directly to hers. A closed loop: every stroke, every touch, every cruel pinch he inflicted here would ripple through her body, her real body, with merciless accuracy.
And the inverse? Even sweeter. Every desperate clench of her cunt as she helplessly responded to his touch would answer here, in his hands, twitching like the pathetic, obedient thing it now was.
No consent. No escape. Just ownership, distilled into a box small enough to fit in his palm.
His thumb brushed the damp seam of the replica’s slit, so warm, so alive, and miles away, her breath hitched.
A grin split his face.
Time to play.
—
She’s getting ready for bed. Wearing just a big t-shirt and panties, freshly showered and sleepy. He knows because he installed cameras and microphones all throughout her apartment months ago. There isn’t a single thing she can do without him knowing.
He sits in front of his computer, multiple camera angles feeding him live video and audio. He opens the box with careful hands, her pretty pussy nestled within the lining. So cute, untouched, unsuspecting.
His fingers trail idly along the smooth, pliant flesh, and he watches as she flinches, eyes wide, glancing down at herself. He smiles.
And so it begins.
He doesn’t waste any time, his fingers moving to spread her pussy lips before he leans down and pulls her clit into his mouth, tongue moving in quick movements as he alternates between sucking and licking. He watches the way her body shuts down, shock and pleasure flooding her system as she collapses onto her bed.
He doesn’t care to give her any time to recover. Instead, he pulls his mouth away to replace his tongue with his fingers, rubbing her spit-slicked skin in tight, cruel circles, taking in the way her breath comes in fast gasps as she tries to press her legs together, confusion, fear, panic written all over her face.
It doesn’t take long before her clit is a trembling, hypersensitive nub between his fingers, swollen and darkened from relentless attention. He runs the pad of his thumb over it in slow, agonizing circles, feeling the way it pulses under his touch, tiny convulsions of pleading nerves that only make him smirk. On the screen, her legs jerk, her hips rising off the bed as her body betrays her, craving more even as her mind doesn’t undestand.
She’s a puppet, and he controls every string. He squeezes the delicate bud between his fingertips, rolling it like a toy, listening to the wet, obscene slickness of her cunt in the box mirroring the mess between her thighs on-screen. He can see the wet patch on her panties, the outline of her pretty pussy clear behind the soaked fabric.
Her clit pulses under his fingers, a trembling, engorged little nub, dark as a bruise, so swollen now that it protrudes obscenely from her slick, puffy folds. He squeezes it, watching the thin skin stretch taut, watching it throb in frantic protest.
He traces the swollen bud with his fingertip, circling slow, barely a touch, just to watch it suffer. It’s obscene how responsive she is, the little nub twitching under his attention, glistening with slick. He presses down harder, rubbing in tight little spirals, the flesh trembling beneath his fingers like a caged animal.
He lets his fingers drag lower, spreading the plush folds wide, so wet, dripping for him, even as her fists clench in the sheets. His other hand strokes her clit lazily, coaxing her higher, watching the way her hips twitch with every circling press.
He scrapes a fingernail slowly along the underside of her clit, savoring the way it quivers. Her folds flutter, her hole clenching around nothing, as if begging for something to fill her.
He indulges her, thrusting two fingers deep into the slick imitation of her pussy, relishing how the tight walls convulse.
He leans in, pressing his tongue flat against the throbbing nub in his hands, lapping at it with slow, wet drags. The way it jerks under the heat of his mouth, god, it’s beautiful. On-screen, her back arches. A broken moan tangles in her throat.
His fingers move, fucking her in deep, lazy pumps, her inner walls clenching around nothing, trying to hold onto something, anything, to anchor against the pleasure.
She rocks into it, chasing his invisible touch, teetering over the edge.
So he pulls away.
Her entire body jerks in protest because she doesn’t get to cum yet.
His fingertips trace the very edges of her clit, never touching where she needs it most, just ghosting over the hypersensitive nerves until her entire body writhes. She claws at the sheets, her thighs twitching open despite herself, her pussy clenching around nothing, her clit begging for friction.
Then, finally, he gives in, but not the way she wants. He presses the flat of his thumb down on the engorged nub, grinding in slow, mind-numbing circles, watching on the screen as her back arches wildly.
He increases the pressure just a fraction, just enough to keep her teetering. Her cunt is dripping, her clit a dark, throbbing bead under his control, her body no longer hers, just a thing, just a wet little hole responding on command.
When her thighs start to shake, when her voice breaks into a sob, he stops, watching the hope fade from her eyes.
He pulls out a fine-tipped vibrator, pressing it directly against the bundle of nerves, dialing it just under the threshold of orgasm.
A keening noise claws up her throat as the pleasure builds and builds, never cresting, never breaking, just holding her there on the edge, her cunt clenching around nothing, desperate for the release she won’t get.
He watches her writhe, soaked in sweat and shame, her body no longer her own.
And through it all, her clit pulses in his grasp, a tiny, twitching heart of suffering and ecstasy.
He can see her chest heaving from her panting breaths, so close to what she wants. And so he stops, pulling the vibrator off, watching her helpless pussy twitch and ache.
She lets out a wail, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as desperation gnaws a deep ache inside of her.
He watches the screen, half-amused, half-annoyed, as her fingers hesitantly drift between her thighs. She wants to cum and she thinks she can do it herself.
A mistake.
The moment her fingertips brush her swollen clit, his grip tightens on the replica in his hands, his thumb pressing down just enough to make her freeze.
No, no, sweet thing. That’s against the rules.
He gives her clit a harsh flick and watches as a scream rips out of her throat. But that isn’t enough to deter her, because moments after, her fingers are back on her clit, rubbing like a filthy, disobedient whore.
He sucks in an annoyed breath and picks up a thin electric rod. Without hesitating, he presses the tip against her clit and shocks her, the zapping sound ripping through the air.
A sharp, stinging jolt shoots through the tiny bundle of nerves in his palm, and oh, the way it jerks. The way she jerks, a strangled cry tearing from her lips as she yanks her hand away, thighs slamming together as if she can protect herself.
But protection isn’t an option anymore. Not from him.
He lets her pant, lets her shake, lets her think it might be over.
And then, with slow, deliberate cruelty, he pinches the clit between two fingers, holding it still before driving the electric rod against it, letting it fire off several zaps in quick succession.
She screams. The clit in his box convulses, the trapped flesh trembling violently.
He smiles.
“You’ll learn,” he murmurs, flicking the little nub again, hard. She yelps, back arching off the bed.
Her fingers stay far away now, knuckles white as she grips the sheets instead, her body trembling under his unseen control.
Good.
He drags his thumb over the sopping slit in the box, gathering slick before lazily circling the clit again, just enough to tease. Just enough to make her squirm on screen.
She bites her lip, thighs pressing together in futile resistance.
He reaches for the tiny silver clamp and arranged it around her flesh, watching it bite down on her swollen clit, the sensitive tissue protesting with every pulse. Tears well up in her eyes on the screen. She shakes her head, whispering no, no, no, but there is no mercy for her.
He twists the clamp tighter around her tortured clit, delighting as the swollen flesh bulges around the metal teeth, darkening to a lurid purple. Her whole pussy quivers in response, her hole weeping, her inner muscles spasming in confused, helpless pleasure.
He grabs the vibrator again, the toy humming to life against the clamped bud, the frequency so precise it makes her flesh flutter, muscles contracting helplessly. Her back arches off the bed, a broken noise wrenching from her throat as pleasure spikes, sharp, unbearable, inescapable. Her fingers scrabble at the sheets, hips bucking in stuttering little jerks as the toy torments the hypersensitive nerve cluster.
Drool slicks her lower lip as she pants, eyes unfocused. He watches with satisfaction as her cunt pulses around nothing, slickness dripping from her in obscene rivulets. The vibrator buzzes harder, and a broken sob tears from her, sounds of desperation spilling out of her mouth.
He adjusts the clamp a fraction tighter, then twists it just to hear her scream. The vibrator rolls slow, merciless circles, pinning her clit ruthlessly. Every nerve in her body is lit up, pleasure crackling through her in waves that crest but never break. She is no longer a woman, just a thing shaking apart between his fingers, reduced to quivering flesh and involuntary spasms.
Every pulse of the vibrator sends shockwaves through her, stomach clenching, toes curling, breath coming in jagged little gasps. But he keeps it steady, never increasing the intensity, never allowing her the relief of building toward release.
Just edging. Just an endless, torturous plateau, where she can feel the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter inside her but never tipping over.
"P-Please—" she whimpers, her voice thin and broken, nails digging into her own thighs as if that could ground her.
He tsks, amused. As if she has any right to beg.
With deliberate cruelty, he turns the vibrator up, just one notch.
The effect is immediate. Her stomach muscles quiver violently, her legs splaying wider in helpless invitation, her mouth dropping open in a soundless scream. The clamp keeps her clit swollen and aching, the vibrator sending sharp, concentrated pulses straight into the overstimulated nerve bundle.
And still, she doesn’t cum.
Because he won’t let her.
Not until he decides she’s suffered enough.
—
The moment finally comes, her body, strained to its absolute limit, teetering on the razor’s edge of orgasm. He can feel it in the way her clit pulses in the box, a desperate, throbbing little heartbeat between his fingers. He has denied her all night, teased her, shocked her, clamped her, ruined her, but now, at last, he will let her break.
He pulls the clamp off cruelly, watching her clit swell as blood comes rushing back, flooding her already raw nerves with new torment. Her clit trembles, swollen so fat it sticks out from between her lips, begging for mercy. He doesn’t give her a chance to recover before he presses the vibrating toy directly onto her swollen clit, cranked to the highest setting.
On screen, her entire body snaps taut, a silent scream stretching her lips wide.
"That’s it," he murmurs, watching her cunt flutter around nothing, soaking the sheets beneath her. "Cum for me."
And she does.
Hard.
Her back arches violently, her thighs locking around the empty air as her orgasm rips through her. The clit in his hands convulses, pussy spilling slick in thick pulses under his touch. He grins, keeping the vibrator pressed firm, not letting up, determined to wring every last ounce of pleasure from her until it hurts.
She thrashes, her moans turning hoarse, painfully overstimulated, but he doesn’t stop.
He laughs, low and dark.
"You think you're done?" His fingers dig into her folds, spreading them open, exposing her glistening, twitching hole to the unrelenting buzz of the vibrator. "I’m just getting started."
Another orgasm wrenches out of her, messy and uncontrollable, her cunt contracting in helpless spasms as tears streak down her face.
Her legs jerk on the screen, thighs slick with sweat and arousal, heels digging into the mattress as if she could escape the pleasure eating her alive. But she can't. Every pulse of the toy sends electric jolts straight through her clit, her pussy fluttering around empty air, dripping onto the sheets beneath her.
He smirks, circling the vibrating tip harder against the swollen bud, watching the way her stomach muscles clench, another orgasm building whether she wants it or not.
Then, with deliberate cruelty, he pulls out a vibrating dildo and presses it straight into the tight, dripping hole in the box.
Her scream splits the air, her spine bowing off the bed, fingers clawing at nothing as the thick intrusion fills her in the exact spot designed to destroy her. The moment he turns it on, her entire body bucks like a live wire, the deep, rumbling vibrations rocking through her core, pressing mercilessly against the swollen inner wall of her cunt.
The clit vibrator doesn’t stop, buzzing against her abused nub while the deeper toy punishes her g-spot, sending shocks of sensation radiating through her lower belly.
She wails, thighs slamming together in a desperate, futile attempt to stop the pleasure, but it’s impossible, her hips twitch in tiny, involuntary thrusts, her cunt clamping down around the thick vibrator like it’s trying to milk it.
Her clit jumps under the relentless onslaught, pulsing in time with the brutal vibrations, the dark, swollen flesh quivering violently under his treatment. The dildo shifts inside her, the angle just right to send another bone-deep spasm tearing through her, her back arching so sharply it looks like she’ll snap.
He grinds the vibrator deeper, angling it so the thick, ribbed tip digs ruthlessly into the spongy spot inside her, the pressure unbearable. Every thrum of the toy sends gushes of slick spilling from her hole, her pussy clenching in erratic, overstimulated spasms, not an orgasm, not anymore, just her body breaking from the relentless pleasure.
Her clit is engorged, purpling from the abuse, twitching against the buzzing toy like a dying thing, her entire pussy quivering in time with it.
And still, he doesn’t stop.
He increases the speed, the dildo drilling into her sensitive walls, the clit toy vibrating so fast it blurs, her entire body convulsing like a puppet yanked on its strings.
Another scream rips out of her, her hips jacking up off the bed, her cunt flooding the sheets as the forced pleasure tears another orgasm out of her, violent and uncontrollable. Her muscles lock, her fists slamming into the mattress as she cums, hard, messy, shameless, her hole pulsing around the vibrator, her clit throbbing in his grip like a second heartbeat.
But it’s not a release.
It’s torture.
Her eyes roll back, her moans turning to sobs as her body betrays her, cumming again, and again, her overstimulated nerves alight with agony and ecstasy.
She is nothing now.
Just a wet, trembling hole, a toy, a broken thing locked inside a box, bleeding pleasure at his command.
And he laughs, pressing down harder, watching her break.
Take advantage of me while I sleep. Slip your fingers into my cunt and feel me get wet as I hump your fingers and moan. Slide your cock into me and when I mumble tell me “shh, it’s just a dream.”
As I stir, repeat that. Tell me I’m just dreaming as you fuck me harder and harder while I begin to cry.
Pull your cock out when my cries get louder.
Tell me that, “it’s okay, little girl. You’re having a bad dream.”
Reach over to stroke my hair gently and make me tell you what’s wrong.
When I tell you my cunt hurts, reach down to touch it and feel my fluids.
“Little girls aren’t supposed to get wet down here.” The disappointment in your tone will make it impossible for me to protest when you instruct me to lay on my front.
I’ll cringe when I hear your belt but nothing will prepare me for the sting of it on my butt. You’ll strike me over and over while I sob, all over my thighs, butt and back.
I’ll beg and plead and you’ll make me count and thank you.
“50. Thank you, Sir.” My words will be nearly incomprehensible as my tears soak the bed sheets and my body trembles in pain.
“Now, you’ve made me all hard and you’re too little to have your cunt fucked. That’s not very fair to me, is it? You made me punish you for being such a dirty whore.”
I’ll sob even louder as I feel the lube touch my asshole.
“Now. Be a good girl and take this. I let you off easy.”
I’ll barely even manage to sob out the “Yes, Sir” before your cock enters my ass. I’ll scream, cry and kick the mattress as I try to get away from you.
But you won’t stop until you’ve cum deep in me, and plugged my ass. I’ll sob into your chest while you stroke my hair and tell me “it’s okay. It’s over.”
muttering "bet your dick doesn't even work" to your drunken deadbeat dad back from the bar - only for him to throw you over the couch and show you just how well it does as he rapes you senseless
one of the things that makes the idea of rape as a punishment that does not particularly arouse or satisfy whumper so specifically horrible to me is that it would make the assaults so fucking long. just a miserable endurance test for whumpee that feels like it will never end or get any better. there is no ebb and flow of intensity, no passionate vulnerability to exploit from a turned-on whumper that has lost control, no crescendo of sounds that might indicate it's finally about to be over; it just keeps going, endless and impersonal, like being gnashed to a pulp in the cold gears of some infinite, unfeeling machine.
oh yeah you make some excellent points here. the endlessness of it and the lack of like… it throws off the expectation of what things like this are supposed to be like. there’s supposed to be an end goal, whumper is supposed to be pursuing their own release and then they’re supposed to stop. it messes with the part of whumpee’s brain which can’t help expect sexual assault to be like sex, but no. this is done to punish them. and because it’s a punishment, whumper is going to keep going until they feel like whumpee has learned their lesson.
no matter how badly it physically hurts whumpee. regardless of whether whumpee has been forced into orgasm already and is now overstimulated and sobbing. this is a punishment after all. it’s supposed to hurt. they’re supposed to hate it.
something I fantasize about often is being forced to apologize while getting raped. The idea of it is sooo hot.
"Tell me you're sorry for making me do this." "Tell me you're fucking sorry." "This is your fault, you know that?"
It all ends in me crying and saying "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry" over and over again incoherently while I'm being violated, permanently cementing the idea that it's my fault into my head
Hello whumpblr, this is our first year running this NSFW exclusive event and we are hoping to invite you all to have fun with it!
Partially inspired by @yuckwhump‘s Ten Trails last year we have heard your feedback about the interest in an event with a fewer number of prompts ie. not daily prompts so we are here to provide that to all the NSFWhumpers in the community!
We are providing four sets of prompts, each set is spread over a ten day period with seven possible prompts to play with!
Set 1- 1st October to 10th October
Set 2- 8th October to 17th October
Set 3- 15th October to 24th October
Set 4- 22nd October to 31st October
Housekeeping Rules and Tagging guidelines:
Due to the NSFW theme this is an adults only event
Tags: Set 1, 2, 3, 4, NSFWhumptober
Two prompts completed from each set makes you a completionist!
Three prompts or more from each set completed makes you a super completionist!
Prompts can be filled in any order during the sets
Alt prompts can be substituted in at any time
More than one prompt can be filled in a single creation
Prompt fills do not have to be explicit but would ideally be NSFW to keep with the theme of the event
Imagine a world where “service dog” has a very different meaning. Just like our world, service dogs are specially bred and trained and are allowed anywhere in public, but the similarities end there.
Criminals can be sentenced to be a service dog’s bitch for any length of time—up to lifetime—as punishment. That’s what you are: a service dog’s bitch. You wear a permanently-locked, highly-visible collar so everyone knows your status and can report you if you’re seen without your dog at any point. You must also always be wearing specially-designed bottoms and no underwear so your holes are easily accessible when you’re ass-up on your knees. Your home is outfitted with security cameras monitoring every room from every angle so you must follow the rules even when you’re alone.
The only real rule, of course, is that you submit to be fucked by your dog whenever he demands it. If he barks at you, you’d better be presenting your holes within ten seconds, or he’ll physically make you. He’ll knock you to the ground and tear open your clothing with his teeth. This can happen anywhere, at home or out in public. No one will intervene. They’ll just gather around to watch you whimper and cry as you get fucked by doggy cock.
Service dogs are bred and trained to have high stamina, always knot, and keep pounding into their bitch even after they’ve knotted. You’ll cum over and over before he’s done. And even then, if you’re outside at the park or somewhere, it’s not finished. Because nine times out of ten, regular dogs will be waiting their turn, and you have to stay there in position until your service dog decides whether he wants to move around to your head, pin you down by the neck, and let you be mounted again.
But the thing is, you’ve never broken a law in your life. The collar was forced onto you by your dom. No one you tell this believes you. All bitches say that.
Yes... I've read a fic just like this, except instead of a dom forcing me, it's government mandated for fakeboys to have a service dog so that I learn my place and be a good female bitch meant to take cock anytime, anywhere
andulkaphoto
germansingergirl
