drone/pilot/masochism smut :3

26 it/its/she/her puppygirl in Denver, my VERY nsfw Reddit is u/DirtierThots

[dpms-3]

[non horny]

I’ve recently been struck by the realization that I was using AI way too goddamn much, even after a year or two of reducing my use.

Meal plans. Emails. Motherfucking emotional texts with people. Photography. Where to hike. My girlfriend found out and was very fucking disappointed, and it was damn difficult. Tough conversations over a couple of days had me willing to try, and as I come around and cut back further and further I start to re-witness this type of beauty.

My words aren’t perfect, they’re stained by the existence I lead. The trials and tribulations, the days I have to sacrifice and hurt, and the days of shocking splendor folded in, the beauty of a morning shared with a long-lost friend over grapefruit brûlée and vegan affogato, sex, love, life, one cigarette approximately once a year. The feeling of a savasana after a tough yoga class.

That perspective is wonderful, and more necessary than it’s ever been. It’s the point, the sauce, the seasoning of life! To be. To know. To feel. To breathe. Fuck, I feel it, and fuck, it’s worth it ❤️❤️❤️

[dpms-3]

Tops like you are precisely why I keep my gender in a blender. I mean, sure, outwardly I’m a woman. I love my life and I’ve socially transitioned, my coworkers see me as I am the same way my friends do. But when I find myself in the bedroom with a treat like you, covered in latex & leather, inescapably bound, or naked save for my collar, there isn’t a hint of disobedience or doubt in my mind. I’m a faggot, and in moments like that I’m your faggot.

You can break me physically, beat me senseless and fuck me at my least cognizant, plug my hole and use my throat as the last remaining traces of my gag reflex massage you and push the toy deeper, count my orgasms on my chest with a marker since I’ll lose numbers before we’re done, leave massive marks, choke me until I almost pass out with a spiked full-metal dog collar, the whole nine yards, and I fucking mean the whole nine yards.

And throughout it all I’ll obey. As long as you don’t hit a hard limit or capacity du jour, I’ll take it all, clover clamps on my tits, dick piercing tied to the ceiling, futomomo on my leg and you in my ass, whatever you desire, because my years of brainwashing have instilled that in me. Obedience is pleasure. Good puppies obey. Good dolls obey. Good drones obey. And if you’re feeling me on a more masc or fem side of the it/its spectrum, who am I to do anything short of obey?

[dpms-3]

pop 🫧 pop 🫧 pop 🫧 go the seals on my mask, stubbornly shedding off me like a spider molting. Or maybe you’re the spider and I’m the cicada you’ve caught and liquefied.

My face bares itself, then its teeth, then its needs: skin. rest. water.

As good as this is for me, as much as I need it, as euphoric as it is to be contained and protected by these beautiful rubber walls, I must leave. I must come down. I really *really* don’t wanna come down, but at least I’m coming down into myself.

To my own surprise, the catsuit slides off easily enough. This is the 1mm you gave me, it’s practically silicone, and it feels almost like a full-body cast when it’s on. You always ogle the marks it leaves on my arms simply from being restrictive, and my stomach is already starting to bruise after tonight’s session.

Watching from below, you smile in the dog bed, eyes locked on my sweat-drenched chest and abs, dripping all over you. You’re clearly enjoying this, and I might as well give you the fullest extent of pleasure, even disrobing 🖤

As I slide out, I stand over you dripping, eventually pouring out onto your shorts and crop top as you squirm. Being in my pits never felt quite so overwhelming, and this is an entirely new experience for the two of us. I relish your melty moans as I deposit all my latex on top of you, letting you rest in the relatively-clean “laundry” as the scent of my gentle femininity blends with heavy rubber, overpowering your cute little brain, making you so vulnerable to me.

I can’t help myself, and I clear your hips of delicious darkness and straddle you. Damn, you really *are* soaked. Is that all sweat, or have you added to it with your slick?

I only have half a second to contemplate, as I’m still feral, even after the orgasms you were kind enough to beat out of me. I start to grind down onto your hips, squishing and sliding the wetness between us, as my arousal hits a fever pitch one last time.

I reach for your throat and squeeze as I buck, hard. FUCK, I love how switchy we get like this, and I know you’re every bit as excited about using me as you are being used *by* me. I moan and bark, the “I’m cumming” bark my girlfriend makes me do… every time. Click Click puppy. It washes over me like my sweat’s been washing over you, milking myself dry as the neon bathes my now-exposed body.

It’s not the hardest I’ve ever cum, but it’s plenty satisfying, and I rest here for a little while to enjoy the moment.

Thank you, you absolutely wonderful creature. I’m glad I get to call you a friend 🖤

[dpms-3]

controlled by lust, carnal desires overwhelming, bubbling up and overflowing, ovulating at the sight of you, craving you like I crave my next breath, aching for you with every fiber of my being, your caress my only panacea, your breath on my neck sends me careening down into my psyche and heat, a trance like no other as the spirals take over my mind and envelop me in layers of shiny black and one singular task. Your wish is my command, and my wish is your command. Compliance: absolute. Resistance: none. Head: empty. Subroutines and protocols. Mind melted. Needy yet composed. Obedience is pleasure. Drone is drone is drone is drone is drone is drone is drone is drone ⛓️🖤⛓️

[dpms-3]

(In response to anything)

That’s so valid I’m sallow and pallid. They canceled out and I’m the usual Caucasian flavor you’ve come to expect :3

[dpms-3]

[erotic] [mechsploitation] involving [guns] and [boot worship] I just sent to a baddie.

Doing my workout (pistol whip) thinking about you holding my handle collar as I gnash and bare my teeth. I hear you through my ear pro, almost in a whisper “hound, off the leash”

And it all goes red. Then black.

I come to in a pile of spent casings after god knows how long, my barrel is warped from the heat. That’s gonna need replacing. Your gentle scritches on the back of my sweat-soaked neck make me nuzzle into your hand, and I know you’re proud of me. It feels so good to make you proud of me 🥹

“Good hound, on the leash” I hear, and all of a sudden I’m me again. You tell me I performed admirably, and I’m not sure if I was shooting targets or *ahem* targets, but I’m ecstatic to have my reward later anyways.

Your apartment. Your leg. Your boots. Your lovely smile as you look down at this pathetic mutt in front of you and smirk 🥹

How could I do anything but pant and whine, not allowed permission to rut against your leg like the bitch in heat I am?

Another “off the leash” quells my inner monologue, and I thrust so hard you nearly topple over, my excitement palpable as I start lapping up any exposed skin, aching for a taste of your ichor 🥵

And then, with two clicks I explode, not too different from the 5.56 rounds I was letting fly earlier. Out of the gun you helped me assemble. The instrument of my will, in the paws of the instrument of yours.

The orgasm washes over me like a tidal wave, locking in the day’s lessons. The long hours of slow becoming smooth becoming fast, which I now confidently am. The clench and shock in my button intertwined with memories of shock collar sessions where you’d zap my exposed neck for any misses, teaching me to ping every target every time.

Your control is intoxicating, and it envelops me entirely in this moment. I look up pleading, begging even as you give me my reward, and howl, cumming again, even harder. I mount your boot like it’s the last thing I’ll ever hump, reveling in the well-earned release 🥵

Afterwards, we wash up, snuggle in the shower, snuggle on the bed, you walk up and hug me from behind while I make us a nice pasta, and we pass out in the dog bed. A rest for the ages 🥰

#mechsploitation #warhound triggers #hypno