whore

22 || Feel free to DM (may not reply) I just like threats and attention 😇

[dykebreakingkat]

Supportive dad that has a shirt that says "Proud father to a lesbian daughter," which he uses to clean the cum out of her after fucking her senseless

[deactivatednnow]

It’s ok, as long as I don’t put my dick in you, you’re still a gold star dyke. So just come over here and jerk me off until I cum all over your face. Don’t act like you don’t want it, I’ve seen how you stare at me at the gym. How you bend over when I’m at the machine behind you. I mean, you accepted the invite to my house, didn’t you?

You secretly want me to take advantage of you, is that it? Should I force my cock into your tight cunt? God I can tell you’re dripping just from me mentioning that. You’re not a real lesbian. Admit it.

[sadist-posting]

For some reason I'm obsessed with CNC where the victim is forced to beg for it because they're being threatened with significantly more pain, humiliation, or embarrassment if they don't.

"beg for this ass beating, bitch. Say "spank me please" or else you're getting put back in the cage."

"If you don't fucking beg me to fuck you in the ass I'm going to really hurt you, bitch"

"If you don't beg to tongue me right now I'm going to post that video of me using you online."

"Ask nicely to give me throat unless you want me to whip you again."

[faux-big-bro]

Making your safe word "I consent to this" just to fuck with your head as I really start to rape you.

[mistakesjmakes]

oooh okay so i’m not sure if this counts as a soft bitch take on this in some incredibly fucked up way, which is obviously the opposite of the point, but you know me so here we go. (edit: i’ve come back to this after i finished it to say this is absolutely not a soft bitch take on this, i have no idea what the fuck this is, but it’s really fucking long and i’m so so sorry.)

but girl who knows exactly what you were doing, she obviously can see through the mindfuck here because that’s the fun of this one, it’s so painfully obvious.

so she doesn’t say it. and sure, it might not have been exactly how you were anticipating this going. you were expecting her to say it, all soft and fearful, so that you could keep going, so that you could fuck her harder and watch her eyes widen in shock and then water with betrayal. you wanted her to say it so you could squeeze her throat until her eyes roll back in her head, and then keep squeezing, until she’s there, limp and unconscious under your hands, under your weight. just for a moment or two, of course. you’re not a monster after all. no, just enough to be able to get a good look at the expression on her face as she comes back to herself, confused and glassy eyed, brittle in a way that you’re certain that you’re the only one who has ever seen.

that’s what you had wanted.

and first it pisses you off that the stubborn little bitch hasn’t given it to you. so the next time you have her panting and whining and avoiding your fucking eyes underneath you like always, you up the ante. it’s an endurance game now, she just doesn’t know it yet.

so when you lean over her to grab something from the bedside table, she gives a little gasp that almost makes you laugh. she thinks you’re grabbing a toy for her, something to make her mindless, turn her into a whining little pet for you. it’s happened before, and every single time, she looks at you with red cheeks and shy eyes for hours afterwards, as though the only thing she can think of when she looks at you is the way she begged and cried.

but that’s not what you’re going for, not tonight. so when she registers that the click she hears is your knife opening, she blinks pitifully up at you.

“how many times do you think i’ve fucked you like this?” you ask conversationally, even as you give another thrust of your hips, angled just so to make her choke on a gasp as she tries to speak.

“like what?” she asks, voice low and uncertain.

“with you hiding from me? closing your eyes or looking away so that you can tell yourself that i didn’t see the way you fucking love it.”

and the poor thing, she doesn’t know what to say. she seems to correctly assume that there’s danger here, but she’s not sure what it is. she’s watching you warily even as you don’t stop fucking her, even as she lets out another little mewl with each thrust.

“what do you think, huh? ten? twenty? a hundred?”

she still doesn’t speak, but you see the moment that she decides her course of action. she rocks her own hips to meet you, clearly her own attempt at distraction, but it feels fucking good so you let her do it, you give her a moan so she thinks it’s working. you even close your eyes, tilt your head back, give her the visual she loves, because there’s nothing she likes more than getting to watch you without feeling your eyes on her in return. but it only lasts a moment until you feel her nails biting into your shoulder, pulling you down to kiss her again. you let her, of course, licking into her mouth until she moans, just so you can pull back and say against her lips, “put your fucking hands down.”

she does, and you watch how they shake.

she flinches a little when you lean down and anchor yourself overtop of her with one hand at her throat and the other on her chest, letting you hold the knife like a pencil with the tip scraping over her collarbone.

“we’ll start with ten,” you say, watching her eyes go wide in fear.

and honestly, trying to do this while actively fucking her isn’t really the way to get the cleanest lines, but this isn’t about that. this is about a running tally, so when you make the first cut into her delicate skin, you’re not that worried. it’s not deep by any means, nothing dangerous, especially considering that they’re not big slashes. just short little tick marks, less than an inch long. just enough to get you a little welling of her blood.

when you look at her, she looks fearful but she hasn’t said anything, hasn’t asked you to stop, hasn’t said the words you’ve wanted all along, hasn’t even hissed at the sting you know she’s gotta be feeling. baby girl doesn’t like being hurt and you know it.

so you lean down and lick the thin line, just to scandalize her, and it works because she gives you a shocked little noise. she tastes like yours but you don’t tell her that. she’d like it too much, and that’s not the name of the game.

the funny thing is that she still reacts to the motions of your hips, still sighs or whines when you move, but you’re distracted now, so there’s no rhythm, nothing for her to anticipate or get used to. it’s mostly little flexes as you move over her, but it’s enough to keep her wanting.

but not for long, because that was just the first slice. the second one gets you a hiss of a breath from her. the third one gets you a minuscule little whine. the fourth one gets you a soft “please,” and that makes you pause.

“what is it, honey? you want more?” you already know the answer, but you can’t give it away.

she shakes her head like you knew she would and you make a comforting noise back at her. “that’s okay, you know what to say to make me stop.”

and the best part so far is watching the wheels in her head spin. because she knows. she knows you’re giving her these marks no matter what and she’s not going to give you the satisfaction of knowing that you did it after she told you not to. so she resolutely keeps her mouth shut, and you give her marks five, six, and seven, just a little deeper than the first few.

she lets out a hopeless moan and this time there’s no pleasure in it. you’re fucking hurting her and she’s letting you, all out of some misplaced sense of pride. and when you look at her face, her eyes are closed tightly enough that you see the tears gathered in the corners. you give her chest a smack with the flat of the blade and it smears the blood there, all messy and claiming, all over her porcelain skin.

“none of that. you know we’re doing this because you’re scared to look at me. you’ll watch me cut you up or i’ll give you more.”

and sure, she’s too damn stubborn to give you the words you want, but watching her eyes fly open and the tears spill down her face is even better, because you know you’ve found an effective threat.

she keeps her eyes on you, wide and unblinking, save for her winces as you give her marks eight and nine. she cries softly the entire time, little sobs she tries to choke back, but you hear them getting trapped wetly in the back of her throat.

“almost done, honey, unless you want to back out now,” you offer, all sweetness and honey in your voice, even as you give her another swivel of your hips, the one that usually makes her choke on a shout.

she doesn’t even answer you, but she hasn’t looked away.

tick mark number ten is almost anticlimactic in its simplicity because she gives you absolutely nothing. she’s still sobbing a little bit, but there’s no dramatic sense of relief, no big moment when she realizes it’s over, when you drop the knife on the pillow next to her.

and the listless look in her eyes is what reminds you that yeah, you’re still fucking her, because god, she looks fucking incredible with nothing behind her eyes. so you pick up the pace in earnest, taking your own pleasure from her body while you smear your hand all over her collarbone, covering her and yourself in the blood that’s still trailing from her little wounds.

“you look so fucking good like this, wearing a necklace of all the other times i’ve had you shy and fearful,” you tell her, moaning when she doesn’t say a goddamn word, doesn’t blush, doesn’t look away, doesn’t do any of the things she usually does. because she’s not there, she’s fucking gone from this, from what you’ve done to her.

but it’s not quite enough.

“i’m gonna sign you like an artist, baby. i always do. every girl that’s ever let me cut them up gets my initial on them like a goddamn masterpiece.” 

you grab the knife while her brain sluggishly tries to process your words, the shock and pain and fear making her head slow and dazed.

she doesn’t react as you carve your initial into her skin, and that’s even hotter, so when you’re finished and you throw the knife down to grab her hips and yank her down to meet your thrusts because fuck, you’re gonna come just like this, using her broken body while she’s not even there at all.

it only takes a few more thrusts before you’re coming, spilling inside her with a groan that matches the rush of blood pounding in your ears and it’s only when you come back to yourself that you realize she’s fighting you. and fucking shrieking.

“i consent to this, i consent to this!” she cries, a high pitched, hysterical note to her voice.

you pull out of her immediately and gather her up in your arms. pulling her to sit sideways across your lap while you hold her like a baby.

“shh, sweetheart, you’re okay. i’ve got you, i’ve got you. you’re okay. you’re safe now, baby, it’s over. it’s all over, baby.” you tell her, pressing soft kisses to every inch of her face.

and it’s only by chance that you catch the look on her face. it’s the look you wanted from the beginning, from the instant you told her what you wanted her new safe word to be. the way her face absolutely shatters with betrayal, with shame, with the realization that she could’ve stopped it all along, if she didn’t let her pride and stubbornness get in the way. the realization that she endured all of this, every cut, every mark, the blood smeared everywhere between the two of you, every single agonizing second and she could’ve stopped you whenever she wanted? (it’s a lie, but she doesn’t know that.) and it breaks her completely and she dissolves into huge, wracking sobs in your arms, pushing you away with clumsy hands even as you hold her tighter.

“that’s it, baby girl, get it all out. i know, i know, i know, you were so scared, weren’t you? poor, sweet baby, you’re safe now. you’re safe with me.” it’s an absurd thing to say in this moment, but the soothing tone of your voice helps settle the sobs still making her tremble in your arms.

it takes a long time before the tears stop completely, and you get just as much pleasure out of watching her slowly put herself back together as you did watching her fall apart. 

when she finally settles, her eyes are huge and lost and fucking exhausted and it looks good on her, and you know you shouldn’t ask, but you want confirmation on something.

“what did it, sweetheart? what broke you?”

she narrows her eyes as much as she can, even though it’s totally incongruent with her tear stained face and defeated, crumpled posture. she doesn’t answer you, so you go out on a limb.

“i lied, you know,” you tell her casually, watching her face closely. “i’ve never put my initial on anyone before.”

she closes her eyes and inhales deeply, visibly collecting herself even as you let her pretend it’s all in the name of recovering from her whole ordeal. but she doesn’t have her emotions locked down, not so soon after the overwhelm of what you’ve done to her, because her lips turn up at the corners, just barely noticeable.

you can’t help it, you laugh while you pull her closer and stand, carrying her into the bathroom to clean the blood from her chest and your hands. 

“god, baby, you’re almost as fucked up as i am.”

[cordless-driller-deactivated202]

the beautiful concept of my femme girlfriend sending my pictures on dating apps to men with rape kinks. she sets up a meeting, telling me that it's a surprise and that she'll meet me at a motel room for a date night. i arrive excitedly, leave the door unlocked, and wait patiently on the bed while smiling and imagining the night my sweet girlfriend has planned for me.

when a man enters the room, my first instinct isn't even to panic. my mind presumes he works at the motel, and as i'm about to ask if there's something he needs, he grins and sweeps his gaze up and down my body, eyes like a wolf. something in the pit of me goes cold.

"fuck, you're even dykier in person. c'mere, i'm not waiting any longer for this, gonna look so good split open." he advances on me and my body is flooded with fear and adrenaline. forgetting the bed, i stumble back and land hard. with my mind still reeling and coordination all over the place, it's easy for him to grab my ankle tight and wrench me back towards him before i manage to pull myself to the other side of the bed. i kick out and reach up, slashing towards his face with my nails, anything to get him off. but my girlfriend picked a weightlifter on purpose, decided so as soon as she'd seen his gym pictures. more than big and strong enough to put me in my place.

he laughs and catches my wrist, the display of strength as he pins me down immediately making me more frightened than i've ever been in my life. i start begging blindly and still try to kick, my breath so fast and harried.

"god, you're so fucking good at this, you're making me so hard. really like putting up a fight, don't you, babygirl? that's cute, makes me like you even more. gives me permission to beat up your pussy a little extra, too." he groans all of this in my ear, my shrill screams and pleas falling on deaf ears as he strips and rips my clothes away. dealing with me is easier for him than a standard workout, i have no hope of getting away. we both know that.

"want it to be a bitching or you want me to treat you like a little wife?" he asks, feeling me up with his broad, hot hands and drooling onto my neck, already wet with tears.

"please, please, get off, i don't...i can't...you have to stop, you can't do this!!" i'm sobbing and hysterical and my pitch only increases when he reaches down and frees his thickening cock from his jeans.

"you talk dirty so beautifully. does that mean i get to choose? you're already making me a happy man, your pussy's going to be even better. i think a bitching for your first time works for a butchy girl like you. think you're so tough but you just need someone to carve out some room in your guts, don't you?" it's fast and easy as he flips me over and pins me again, legs kicked wide and held in place by his, off the side of the bed so my cunt is exposed.

he pins my wrists with one arm at the small of my back, and even as i writhe and struggle, i'm only hurting myself. i'm no more bothersome to him than a fly buzzing around his head. i sob into the sheets, utterly destroyed and confused, heaving breaths bursting out of me.

"you're so into this, fuck." he leans back to spread my lips and stare down at my pussy, pink and empty and wet. wet from fantasizing about my girlfriend, i tell myself as he groans and rubs his fingers up and down my slit. "sexy rapable little butch. how has no one made you into a fleshlight yet? if i knew you, you would've been turned out on my cock within a month of us meeting. can't waste a second to take that prime gold star pussy."

"you have to stop, please, please!"

"you still pretending, honey? i don't have to do anything, i think you know already that i'll do what i want. i'm just enjoying the view. you look so nice and tight, maybe even still got your hymen, huh? it's never gonna look the same once i gape you open, baby, you know that? you'll feel it every time you touch your cunt for the rest of your life. more open, even by just a bit, changed forever by my cock. i can't thank you enough for the privilege." he leans down to kiss my neck and lines up his cock with my cunt. no fingers or prep, that's what he'd agreed on with my girlfriend as she masqueraded as me, cockhungry and masochistic. i'm still screaming and shaking, but my throat is starting to hurt something fierce and i doubt i'll be able to carry on much longer. that makes the tears flow faster.

he pushes forward with his hips, one hand still pinning my wrists and one settled tight-fingered on my hip, bruising me as he pulls me back onto his dick. it hurts and stings horribly, but the pushing, relentless fullness takes me by surprise. it's so all encompassing, so big, and as he settles in almost as deep as he can get, i feel like i can't even fill my lungs, too full up with rapist cock.

"that's it, yeahhh." he's groaning and breathing hard, making a low noise every time my cunt spasms or clenches. "perfect, fucking perfect. you should feel how silky you are in here, fuck. took me in with hardly a fight. knew you'd take your bitching like a good girl, i could see it in your eyes. too weak to resist a good cock."

he keeps fucking into me, spitting down onto his shaft to ease the way even more. i'm gurgling and half struggling on the bed, so completely out of my mind and overwhelmed and confused and full. he's as happy as he's ever been above me, using his cock as a weapon to put me in my place. bitch me. fill me.

and, unbeknownst to both of us, my girlfriend arrived before i did. my femme is sitting in the closet, mere feet away from where i've been screaming and struggling and being violated so thoroughly that i've forgotten myself. she's looking through the slats and rubbing her cunt, so drenched from the sight of the person who trusts her the most being raped and filled. she can't wait for the rest of the guys to arrive.

[sherrendipity]

we talk a lot about female feminists getting broken and fucked and bred into becoming tradwives and anti-feminists, but what we don't talk about enough is respectful feminist men becoming raging misogynists when they realize how slutty and desperate women really are.

like UGH just imagine it. a sweet, polite, respectful boy who has an enormous crush on you and is ecstatic when you go on a date with him. all evening he's truly the perfect gentleman. he opens doors for you and pays for you without a single complaint and walks you to your door when he's driving you back home at the end.

he says goodnight, and he doesn't expect a kiss at the end, but he's over the moon when you do kiss him. he thinks he can't be any happier than he is right now—and then you kiss him again, harder this time. and again, and again, and you're pulling him towards you until he's caging you in against the door. he doesn't know what to do with his hands, so you guide one to your tits and the other to your hip. he takes to it well, groping you and pulling you against him.

before he knows it, you've pulled him into your bedroom, and he's very much a whole three bases ahead of where he was expecting himself to be tonight. but he's still committed to being a gentleman, and he asks for consent before everything—before he takes off your clothes, before he kisses your neck, before he touches your body anywhere.

he wants to lay you down gently on the bed and go down on you for a good long while before even thinking of his own pleasure, but before he could even voice that, you're on your knees for him. he flushes and assures you that you don't have to do that, but you only beg for it in response. he's completely caught off guard, but fuck, okay, he's not so insane that he's gonna say no to that...

he's gentle with you, even in this. his hand in your hair is gently and lovingly massaging your scalp, and he only pushes his cock a few inches into your mouth. the second he hears you gag when he goes too far, he apologizes profusely and only keeps going when your insist. after a few more slow, shallow thrusts into your mouth, you pull back and he lets you go easily, asking if you're okay the moment you stop.

you are, but you want more. you want him to fuck your face. don't overthink it. "but you need to breathe!" "that's overthinking it." does it feel good for him? yes? then do it. that's the only thought process you want him to bother with.

he... doesn't quite know what to do with that. so you take it into your own hands and take his cock down to the hilt, even as you gag and struggle when it penetrates your throat.

and fuck, fuck, it feels amazing, but it also feels so wrong. you look utterly debauched, like something straight out of the porn his friends keep talking about. it's disgusting, it's degrading, and it's fucking hot. it's not that he never imagined you like this before, but he purged those images out of his mind before they could ever form into a vivid fantasy. he called them intrusive, unwanted, because he'd never think so lowly of you that he'd ever indulge this. but here you are, begging for it.

he doesn't quite build up enough in him to facefuck you the way you want, but he does grip your hair and roll his hips to match your energy.

eventually, he has to be the one to pull you off of him. he was getting close, and he didn't want to be the type of guy who comes before doing anything to please his partner. so, he pulls you up and seats you on the bed and asks what he can do for you.

you want him to fuck you. he hesitates, because he hasn't done anything for you yet. are you sure you're ready for that right now?

you respond by spreading your legs and pulling his hand, letting him run his fingers against your cunt. you're utterly drenched. he hasn't so much as touched you once and your cunt is already clenching against his fingers, begging for his cock with just as much desperation as your words are.

he's barely even able to process the situation. but yes, yes, of course he'll make love to you. his first instinct is to fix the pillows, make sure there's one under your hips so you can be comfortable. he tries to lay you down onto your back, because in every fantasy he's ever allowed himself to indulge in, he made love to you in missionary, while staring deep into your eyes.

but you don't do that. no, you lay face down and lift your ass up, arching your back to him and reaching back to spread your cheeks apart for him.

fuck. he realizes then that he doesn't have a condom. he never thought to pack one, because he never could've imagined this. but you still beg for him, tell him to just forget the condom and fuck you raw. that you need all of him right now.

he breathes shakily. his resolve is hanging by a thread, but he still insists on holding back. he lines his cock up against your soaking wet cunt, and pushes in slowly. he wants to be sure this won't hurt, that this is comfortable for you.

you snap your hips back against him, and suddenly he's balls deep inside you. he gasps at the feeling, at how tight you are around him. he wants to wait, just a moment, just to let you adjust to the intrusion. but you only cry for more, begging for him to just take you already.

the way you moan his name is the final straw.

he grips your hair and pushes your face into the mattress, properly mounting you as he plows into you. and god damn, just listen to those moans. this is what you wanted then, huh?

to think, he was trying so damn hard to be a good man for you. do you know how long he spent planning this date? how far ahead he booked that reservation? how much thought he put into his every word, every action? all in an effort to please you. he wanted to make love to you, you know. he'd imagined lighting candles and decorating the bed with flower petals for you, if he would ever be granted the privilege to touch you. he would've held you close and recited poetry to you. he was under the impression that your body was a temple, and he would've been all too happy to worship the soul it held.

but none of that is what you wanted, is it? you're not the goddess he worshipped, not the queen he followed. he didn't need to go through all this length to get with you. he could've just as easily dragged you into a bathroom stall and had his way with you any moment of any day.

so what are you, then? a whore? no. at least a whore gets paid. you're beneath that. a toy. an animal.

when he finishes, he doesn't bother to ask if he can cum inside you. he doesn't need to.

[sherraphim]

[dykebreaking. incest. 2.2k words.]

your girlfriend really really should have warned you about what her father was like before you met him for the first time. here you are, dressed in the nicest button-down you own, your hair neatly styled, and you even brought a nice wine that you spent way too much damn money on to impress him. and here he is, eyeing you up and down like you aren't dating his fucking daughter.

for a while, you assume it's in your head. men always gave you a terrible impression, and maybe you're simply jumping the gun and assuming the worst. your girlfriend spoke so highly of her father for as long as you've dated. she must have her reasons for it.

until, that is, you're all seated at the dinner table, and the topic of sports comes up, and you mention that you're on the basketball team at your college. "been playing all my life," you say, proudly.

he smiles and coos at you. "aw, that's cute."

"well, in women's basketball," he returns. "really only one good reason people wanna watch that." he takes a long, slow sip of his wine, but his eyes watch you over the rim, never losing that condescending glint.

you blink, almost unsure if you misheard him. cute? "we're nationally ranked," is all you can say.

you turn your gaze to your girlfriend, silently pleading for her to back you up and push against the implications of his words. but to your shock, she's smiling and giggling. she reaches across the table and takes your hand. "it's definitely the first thing that caught my eye about her. you should see her when she's playing!"

"maybe i will," he muses. "i'd definitely love to see more of her." something in the way he says it sends a shiver down your spine.

the moment you enter your girlfriend's bedroom, you slam the door and groan in frustration. "what the fuck is his problem?"

your girlfriend chuckles as she stretches out on her bed, her eyes watching you pace back and forth to work off some of the anger pooling in your stomach. "he's just like that. you'll warm up to him, trust me."

you huff out an incredulous laugh. "yeah, i highly doubt that. how in the hell did that pig raise you of all people?"

she hums in contemplation. "my empath senses tell me you need to vent."

you want to roll your eyes at her, but you're not turning down a chance to complain about those torturous two hours you had to spend withstanding one sexist remark after another.

she pats the spot on the bed beside her, and although you'd prefer to pace until the buzzing under your skin ceases, you absentmindedly sit down as the words tumble from your mouth.

"cute. he really had the audacity to call my entire athletic career cute."

your girlfriend hums in acknowledgment as she listens, though she says nothing more as she squeezes your tense shoulders, willing them to relax. she watches your face closely as her hands sneak down to unbutton your shirt.

"what an asshole. do you guys have a basketball hoop in your yard or something? i'd really love to kick his ass and wipe that stupid condescending look off his face." you don't always get a chance to play against men, and you can't help the distant voice in your head wonder how much his height would be an advantage. when he greeted you at the door, it wasn't lost on you how big he is, and you practically had to crane your neck to look him in the eye.

she doesn't answer the question as she slides the shirt off your shoulders and tosses it aside. regardless, the question was so far from your mind as you pictured his face, those eyes peering at you in a way that left you wanting to cover yourself even in your modest clothing.

you barely notice the way she pushes you onto your back as you keep speaking. "maybe he should come to one of my games next season. spite is a great motivator, and it'd really have me on my A game." or it'd fluster you to the point of being entirely inept. something about him made you feel so jittery and restless. you can't quite tell if it's your body's instinct to fight him or what.

"and what was with the mansplaining? all evening! god, i never should've mentioned my major. i was hoping it'd earn me some basic respect when he realizes i'm in his field, but he just kept treating me like an amateur!"

distantly, you register the sound of your belt being unbuckled, and the way your hips are pushed just enough to slide your pants off. and maybe you should be paying a bit more attention to your girl right now—when did she take off her clothes?—but that burning anger that's been building in the pit of your stomach all evening has yet to be extinguished, and she's nodding at you to continue. you don't even know if you can stop venting if you tried right now.

and you want to growl from the anger, but suddenly a moan slips from your lips as you feel two fingers press deep into your cunt and curl just at the spot that makes you melt.

"how many times does he have to hear, 'yeah, i know,' before he gets the damn message? he was talking to me like i'm a child, for fuck's sake." even as you were trying to tell him about a very competitive internship you'd earned the previous summer, he talked down to you like a teacher praising a child for learning to write. your teeth grit and your face burns as you replay his tone as he called you a "smart little girl."

"fuck, baby, you're so wet," your girlfriend sighs as she pumps her fingers into you.

"i'm what?" you hardly noticed. but now you can feel how easily her fingers slide into you, and suddenly you're painfully aware that the fiery sensation you'd been feeling all evening started between your legs where her hands worked deftly.

"drenched, darling," she repeats, and chuckles as she presses a kiss to your inner thigh.

of all the times you've done this, you've never felt so... exposed. there's some private, hidden part of you laid bare that neither she nor you yourself have seen before. you try to close your legs, embarrassed by the revelation, but all you can manage to do is squirm. has it always felt so good to be touched like this?

"well, don't stop now," she tells you. "keep talking. tell me how degraded he made you feel."

"is... wait, wait, oh fuck—" you grab her wrist to still her hand but you can't seem to find the strength to push her off. "is this weird? i mean, shit, he's your dad."

she brings herself closer now, and you can feel her hot breath on your pussy as she speaks. "and just look what he does to you."

how much of the heat you feel is anger and how much of it is lust? you're losing track, unable to separate them out. but with every little humiliation you recall and every swipe of her tongue over your clit, the two emotions feed into each other. your whole body is alight with it.

you purse your lips tightly as the humiliation of the moment washes over you. you don't want to keep talking about him, to keep exposing how deeply he's somehow wormed his way into your head. but he did, and all your efforts to focus on the gorgeous woman between your legs fall flat. all you can see in your minds eye is him. him and those hungry eyes that raked over your body all night. him and those lips that curled into a smirk every time you took his bait.

"he was getting off on it." you couldn't help voicing the realization aloud, nor could you help the way your hips bucked up to chase the friction of your girl's tongue. "he wanted to get under my skin. to see me squirm, to piss me off, to degrade me."

as the realization hit you, you feel her lips curl into a smile against your skin. did she know all along?

"so fucking demeaning," you say. between your breathy moans and gasps, it sounds unconvincing to your own ears. "i came here trying to impress him and he looked at all my accomplishments and just, aah, jerked off all over them!"

with the awareness came a whole new scene in your minds eye. not just of his eyes and lips, but parts of him you wanted so desperately to ignore. was he hard under the table as he mocked you? would he stroke his cock to the memory of how flustered he got you, how desperately you tried to fight back against his condescension only to be pushed back down with more?

it makes you sick to your stomach, and twisted up in that disgust is a lust that you can't contain. it's spilling out of you, making a wet mess of the sheets, as inconsiderate of your willingness as he was. you feel as violated by your own body's reactions as you did by his leering gaze, by this new awareness that you're nothing but a sex toy to him.

for a moment, your lover's tongue leaves your aching clit just long enough for her to ask, "could you imagine what he'd do if he saw you like this?"

you shake your head viciously. "no, no, god, fuck no—" but you can, so vividly. you can see his smirk and hungry eyes. how he'd make his way to the other side of the bed, over your head, and shuck off his pants. you can see the way his hard cock would fill your whole field of view, feel the weight of it as he slaps it down onto your face, hear the mocking laugh as he watches you in such a helpless state. but what you can't imagine, what you've never found yourself thinking of until now, is the taste.

burning with shame, you swallow the saliva that's flooding your mouth.

you shouldn't be so close already. but somewhere hidden under the anger and hate you've been stewing in all night, this unwanted arousal was building and building, feeding off your own humiliation. you've never been so sensitive.

between long, languid licks, your girl asks, "mmm, you're getting close, aren't you, dear?"

you hate how familiar she is with your body that she just knows. you hate that it's getting to you so much. "no, no," you insist, and your voice comes out in the most embarrassing whine you've ever heard.

she coos at you, like you're a sad, pathetic little animal. "it's okay," she says, and she sounds so earnest, so understanding. "you can say what you really want. it'll be our secret."

she gives another slow, firm swipe of her tongue over your clit. you've never fought so desperately against your own pleasure.

don't cum, don't cum, you think to yourself.

"it's okay to want him."

another lick. your legs shake around her head.

"it's okay to cum for him."

and it's not, it's really really not. but that doesn't matter to your body. despite all your frantic efforts, you can't stop it. the orgasm rips through you and leaves you screaming and moaning in its intensity. you try to shut your legs, try to scramble away from her tongue as she laps at your sensitive clit, as if interrupting the orgasm will somehow absolve you of the shame of it.

but she holds you firmly and forces it out of you. and with it, the truth you've been desperately shoving down comes spilling out of your lips.

"i want him to make me his dyke slut!"

you wish you could grab the words and shove them back into the darkest part of your psyche where they'll never be heard. but you can no more do that than you can undo the mind-numbing, leg-shaking, screaming orgasm.

you don't know how long it goes on, but by the end, you're panting and your heart is racing as if you had just finished an intense work out. your face is on fire, and you stare up at the ceiling in horror even as the warm, happy afterglow washes over you. your mind is too scrambled to even try untangling the mess of emotions in your chest.

your girlfriend is kissing up your body, and you shiver in response. she settles beside you, her head nestled under your chin as she sighs pleasantly. "i meant it when i said that it'll be our secret. i won't tell," she promises. "i just hope the walls are thick enough that he didn't hear that."

[sadist-posting]

you were suuuuch a good toy for me sweetheart please tell me all about your hobbies while I pet your hair. You look so pretty cumming for me and sound so pretty sleepily talking about the things you like.

[dumbwhorc]

my turn

[ballpolisher]

i make such a nice fleshlight. im always wet so im ready to use 24/7. i make cute little noises when you stretch me out. my hole is ridiculously tight and loves to be filled balls deep. you can breed me all night or abuse my stupid clit or fold me into a pretzel, whatever you and your cock desire 😋

[lil-miss-mimi]

Miss when I was a virgin letting my friend's fuckbuddy use my throat over and over because I wanted to be loved... I hate deep throating now but u should force me to swallow your cock anyway because you can, because youre bored, bevause im an easy whore. Pull my tits out, make me drool on them, cover them in your come and force me to walk home like that, exposed and used like a good cocksleeve should

[ms0milk]

"careful old man," (condescending) "don't break a hip" (desperate to fuck the dilf within an inch of his life)

[dumbwhorc]

not surprised 😋

[naughtypixiee]

i love predatory tgirls. follow me to the bathroom, my car or a dressing room who cares just have your way with me. tell me i’m dressed like a slut/whore and how i was practically asking for it. tell me you couldn’t control yourself anymore and how badly you needed to fill my cunt. fuck me as rough as you want. i don’t care if someone catches us, please do not stop fucking me. my cunt belongs to you and you only

[uncannyspectrum]

having a werewolf roommate that is going through a rut but can't say it because they don't wanna reveal that they're a werewolf.

so they start acting strange one day and the next thing you know it's almost the end of the week and you have barely seen them, they're in their room, all locked in.

you finally feel their presence when you're doing laundry, you actually have quite a lot of clothes to dump inside, all of them with your smell, either with your perfume or sweat.

you bend down to reach for more underwear to put inside the machine when big hands grab your hips and pull you back, nails digging into the soft skin there, and you swear they almost feel like claws.

then you feel something grinding against your ass, and it becomes pretty evident that it's your roommate's dick.

nex thing you know, your roommate is growling as they rip off your pants, tearing them apart, leaving you naked. they thrust their dick inside you, and start an animalistic pace, not even letting you move, just using your hole, moving you back and forth as they pant like a dog.

you have become their fucktoy and as their growls and gasps grow louder you feel as if their dick was expanding, getting bigger and thicker, and then you're, oh, so full, warm cum is filling you up, and you swear your belly is bigger as well.

their head drops to your shoulder blades, and as you try to come back to earth, you notice the cum slowly dripping down your thighs and yet you're unable to move, as if your hole is locked to their dick.

[princessstalker-deactivated2026]

Public transit should have better accommodation for trans women's needs. Expecting us to wait so long without release or comfort is just unreasonable. I'm sure the cuntgirls would be more than happy to help.

On short bus rides, we can just latch their hands to a bar above them and breed them like that, but we would have to be more creative with long distance transit. It'd probably take a couple different roles of cuntgirls to properly serve us.

Cuntgirls who have been entirely, fully broken into obedient pets can wait on and serve food to us. And offering up any hole they have as part of their service, of course.

Cuntgirls who's mouths have been properly broken in can be positioned between the legs of anyone sitting down, keeping our cocks warm and wet.

Cuntgirls who are ovulating and needy get strapped into glory holes to be used when we get up and stretch our legs. Maybe mount them below some standing tables so the real girls can talk and eat while we flood a wet cunt with our seed.

And if a cuntgirl misbehaves? She's put on cleaning duty. Hands bound behind her back and made to lick the cum, sweat and dirt off of us, the floor, and the fucked out, limp bodies of their fellow cuntgirls.

It's only fair, really. Trans women do so much for cuntgirls and we're expected to stay pent up for an entire train ride? Ridiculous.

And yknow, we could probably make them cover the cost of public transportation, I'm just saying. A cuntgirls wallet isn't owned by her so it may as well go to a good cause.

[grimpact]

non-penetrative rape is worse & so it's actually better. what are you complaining about? i didn't even fuck you. so what if i got cum all over your skirt, at least i didn't rape a baby inside you, did i? ungrateful little bitch. so i tied your wrists together & made you jerk me off, so what? would you rather i put my cock inside you? you should be happy all i did was rub my shaft all over your nose, lips & cheeks. you look good glowing with my precum. better than any other makeup you've ever worn. is it my fault your thighs look so good in those tights it made me want to cum between them? you should be glad I'm this creative. anyone else would have just treated you like a brainless hole.

would you have preferred that, you stupid cunt? would you rather i actually raped you? is that why you laid so still when my cock rubbed up against your crotch?

admit it, you wish you were a victim. too bad this isn't about you. turn around & mewl into that pillow, I'm gonna shoot ropes all over your back this time.

[stalkerr-daddy]

Having a little toy I can use in public for my pleasure. Making you wear a vibrator in your panties while we go out, keeping it on a higher setting and forcing you to walk around the crowds of people, forced to hold back your pathetic whines and whimpers. Your panties are immediately wet from the disgusting mess you’re making in them, and you can’t even contain yourself anymore, the pleasure is just too much for you. I send you into the bathroom and command you to take off your panties, then come back out to me.

We sit down, I make you sit in my lap and I “casually” have my arms wrapped around your waist. I start guiding your hips back and forth on my thigh, making you hump my leg like a desperate little slut while we risk someone seeing us at any given second. A wet spot very quickly appears all over my pants, making sure no one is looking I pull my cock out and force your soaking wet pussy down on it while I whisper into your ear to keep quiet. I grab the panties you took off earlier and shove them into your mouth, making sure there’s no sounds escaping your mouth.

Impaled by my cock, in front of everyone to see what a desperate little slut you are just for me. I grab your hips, bouncing you up and down on me, rutting your hips deeper onto my cock and making you take every single inch of me. You are my slut, and I’ll use you whenever I want, even if we’re in a crowded room, nothing will stop me from having you. Forced to look normal while my cock is buried balls deep inside of you, fucking deeper and deeper into you. Your body starts breaking down on you, you start getting closer to cumming, I feel you tensing up, clenching around me.

I grab a fistful of your hair and whisper into your ear “cum for me babygirl, I want to feel you, I need to feel you.” The pressure of my big cock stretching you out beyond your body’s limits is what sends you over the edge, forgetting we’re in a crowded space, you can’t even control yourself anymore and you cum all over me, covering me in your wet, creamy cum, with my hand still gripping your hair I pull you back to my lips “good fucking girl, now it’s my turn.”

I grip your hips and bounce you like a dumb little bunny up and down on my cock, pounding into your cervix and leaving you sore before I even cum. I slow down, rutting my hips and deep into your stomach as I possibly can and I dump every last drop my cum deep into your inside. I pull out of your mess of a hole, letting my cum run down your leg and making you walk back out to the car with me dripping all down your thighs and legs.