hedonism rocks 23 ⚦

side for perversion

[neutralkink]

I want desperately to be fucked and recorded against my will. Either because I'm too high to stop it or they’re just so much stronger than me, I want there to be video proof that I got my hole violated. I want to be unwilling porn for whoever they decide to send the video to, I want everyone to know that I'm just a cocksleeve to be used to get off with.

[mtfreakshow]

The WORST part of trying to jerk off to rape porn is when there's no begging for it to stop or pleading for it not to happen. Bonus points if she's literally begging for it. How am I supposed to cum!! That's consent!!

[succubus-princess]

I don’t think you understand, I want you to be obsessed with my pussy. Call me just to inspect my whole, spread my pussy lips apart to see how wet I am, run your fingers up and down my slit while you’re on the phone, shove two fingers inside me when we are watching a movie, keep slapping it while you wait for dinner to get ready. Keep touching me, keep dragging whimpers out of me, not caring if I cum, or if I want it, my pussy it’s yours, my body it’s yours, play with it as you like, when you like. 

[normaljenny]

One of the best things a girl can be is a Sexual Punching Bag

[pervycumslut]

i’ve also been told that when i get blackout drunk, which is very rare, i don’t get angry or emotional or anything. instead i become really docile—my friend literally called me “so obedient” when they were giving me instructions. i didn’t fight them when they were wiping my face down or anything. i went along with everything they said. i wonder if someone had tried to take advantage of me then, how far i would’ve gone to obey their commands. would i even realize what was happening? and even if i did would i just let them do whatever they wanted to me even if i didn’t like it?

[tgirlmechanicock]

Tw: Noncon

It hurt, when you fell from heaven. It hurt more than anything had ever hurt you in your life. A respectable, calm station under an Archangel had meant a life of comfort and stability. You’d barely so much as scraped your knee in the few thousand years you’d served under Her. Most of the time you sat at a desk and reviewed case files for humans, judging the weight of their souls against the pure stainless weights of Heaven, whether or not they would be allowed entry. Whenever you weren’t with Her.

And one day, you messed up.

A misfile, a soul slipped through that shouldn’t have. It was a mess, other human souls were tainted by corroboration, and it was a quarantine that cost Heaven dozens of lives, shipping them off to purgatory or hell or wherever the tainted souls went. You were not so lucky.

She was furious with you, and angels were a dime a dozen. The way She looked at you when she passed, the way She spoke to you as you worked, you never thought you were expendable until the day She grabbed your halo and snapped it.

Your feet lost purchase on Heaven’s holy clouds with your halo in a shattered ring around your head and She released you into the void, plummeting to Earth. You screamed for hours as you fell through realm after realm, down through Heaven and all of its many facets, until your voice felt ragged, and any more screams would be torn from your bloody lips. Thankfully, it wasn’t long after that that you hit the ground.

Your mangled body ended up in an alley somewhere, you weren’t sure where. You didn’t know the specifics of human cities, not really. You’d read about them but it was always so distant, so removed. Who could keep track of which cities were still around, Babel or New York or Çatalhöyük? It was certainly one of them.

You were battered and damaged, your wings snapped at odd angles, limbs broken and bones exposed. But an angel can’t die. That’s part of the punishment – if you could die, you’d just return to Heaven. You were damaged goods, now. You were Earthbound, like Lucifer of old.

You couldn’t even rise to your feet or lift your head, but at some point, probably hours spent crumpled into a heap in the grimy, rainy, stinking alley, you felt the world pitch around you. Fingers prodded your wounds, you felt the cracked bones being moved around in their sockets, and eventually the pain was so much that you simply blacked out.

You woke… in a tub, you think. It was stained with your blood, golds splashed against the porcelain, and you were still in so much pain you couldn’t think. Your body wouldn’t respond to anything but a twitch of a finger, a hoarse, rasped whine. You could see and hear, though. You heard a voice, muffled through a wall, sounding almost like Her. You wished it was Her so bad, come to take you home, clean you up, and set you back to duty.

Instead it was a woman in a heavy coat, disheveled and unshaved, scratching at her mullet. She spoke in a tongue unfamiliar to you, likely one of the many scattered human languages. It was directed at you, surely, but you couldn’t catch anything but a single word. “Angel”. It was a holy word, and translated to you immediately, and you whined, twitching in response. Yes, you thought, I am an angel. I am an angel. Please, help me.

The woman… laughed. Shook her head. And left.

You were in and out of consciousness for a long time, days, possibly. Months, more likely. Occasionally, the woman had someone else come in as well, a woman in a white coat who tutted over you, prodding and yanking at your wounds, occasionally wrapping them and moving them to correct positions and binding them there. She was… healing you, you think. There were also many needles, drawing your golden, glowing blood in such enormous quantities that you couldn’t help but pass out.

One day, you could move. The pain was still substantial, but you were capable of sitting up. The world spun, your head pounded, and your arms nearly gave out in the strange rigid bindings she’d put them in, but you were sitting upright. You were healing. You were on a road to recovery.

The woman was overjoyed to see you could move again. She came in more often now, showing you things on her strange, glowing square and speaking words. Her language, you think. There were some similarities with the holy tongue, likely related to a root word from when they gave humanity the gift of speech. You’re picking up on some things. Food. Water. Love. Hate. Angel. God. Woman.

One day she removes you from the tub. You stand on shaky, damaged feet, and it hurts to move around, but you are moving again. You’re relearning to be mobile, and she’s careful with you. You see the home for the first time, though that’s putting it lightly. An apartment, not very large, a few rooms and a living space. You were being kept in the bathroom off the living room, it seems. She guides you to a couch, letting you sleep there, instead.

You start to converse more, now that you’re out in the open. You do your best with broken “English” to understand who she is and where you are. Her name is “Saber”. She lives alone. She does work from home, which is why she’s there so often. She smokes from a small, strange mechanical device, puffing out sweet smelling smoke, and often walks around in tight clothing that show off her stomach and bulge. She seems… fine. You’re eager to leave her care, though.

She asks you about your halo. It’s hard to speak about it. You talk a bit about Her, and about how you messed up and She snapped it. Saber laughs, and it makes you sick. She asks if it will heal. You answer honestly that it won’t. You are stuck to walk the Earth forever. She goes quiet after that.

She helps with your physical rehabilitation, slowly moving your arms and legs again. Eventually you don’t even need the “casts” to get around. She gives you a cane, which helps, even if it hurts your pride. It feels good to have mobility again.

Every day, she asks you out of ten, how bad the pain is. Most days it’s a 7 or an 8, but it slowly dwindles. One day, gratefully, you realize it’s only about a 3. Your body feels alright again. You’re almost on the mend. You smile and thank her, and say that you’re excited to leave and see what good you can do on Earth, and if it will make Her take you back.

That’s when she hits you for the first time. Hard. You go down, crying out, and she punches you again in the jaw. It hurts more than falling from Heaven – you trusted her. The betrayal stings. She wraps cool steel around your neck, locking it into place. She jokes that it’s like your new halo. She uses it to drag you to her bedroom.

You’ve poked in to see it once or twice, but now she throws you down to the bed, pulling out a knife and tearing off what little robes you were clad in. She paws at your naked, damaged form like a base animal, squeezing your breasts and grabbing your thighs roughly. You cry out and thrash, the pain slowly returning as you’re being pressed down, pulled, grabbed. Eventually she pulls her own pants down.

One hand grabs the collar at your neck, using it to pin you to the bed, the other parts your thighs and forces her enormous cock into you. You feel the connection to your halo waver and shudder. Human lust, one of the most primal and evil of sins. You try to kick her off, but she keeps forcing herself deeper, using a word you hadn’t heard before, whispering about “angel cunt”. She pushes in all the way before pounding you hard as you scream and cry and sob. Your holy status is being ripped away from you with each deep thrust, and as much as you hate it, your heavenly body is responding.

Responding kindly.

You’re an angel. You are far above humans, you are a creature of the divine, an arm of God, a tool of the Heavens, and this human is using you as… a sex toy. Something is breaking in you, shattering in your chest, and your little golden heart is fluttering away as that innocence is torn from you. The naivety of thinking humans could ever be anything but monsters.

She grabs your hips fully, pulling you up to meet her, and your whimpering sobs have turned to cries of something else. Not quite pleasure, but not pain anymore, either. You go limp in her grip, allowing her to masturbate with your pussy, using you like a toy as she yanks you onto and off of her, snarling like an animal as she buries herself inside, virile cock pumping you full of seed. This is how new humans are made, you realize. It will do nothing to you, your angelic womb is incompatible, as much as a human’s is with a dog.

She pulls out and you’re grateful that she’s finally finished, but she pushes you over on your stomach, pushing in again. And again. And again.

It’s hours before she finally stops, and when she does, she leaves the room for only a moment before getting a heavy chain, clipping your collar to her bedpost. She collapses from exhaustion, snoring loudly, and giving you a sliver of bed to call your own and fall asleep on.

You curl up in a ball and sob, your wings curling over your face as you whisper prayers to Heaven, to your Archangel, to God – anyone. Anyone at all.

You don’t get a response.

[lovesickhog]

I think I'm curious about snuff...

Kinda from the angle of, what if I fucked a guy so violently that something kind of broke in his mind. He's gone. He's still alive but at this point he's beyond help. I need to finish the job at this point. Put my sweet victim out of his misery. They're called mercy killings. And sure I could wait until I finish... But, fuck. You're tightening a lot with my hand around your throat.

[precious-corpse]

"it's actually really embarrassing for you that you spent so much time and energy stalking me. don't you have anything better to do?" <- boy who will soon be disabused of his belief that he's untouchable and everything always works out in the end

[misscaptor]

You're not going to get out.

I know that's what you've been thinking. I've been treating you more like a lover. You think that because I let you sleep chained to my bed instead of on the cold basement floor that I'm going to get sloppy, that I'll start trusting you, that you'll have the chance to escape. I know how that brain of yours works. On some level you have to know the truth- you'll never get out of here.

You probably had a better chance of getting out before, when you were still a cold, crying thing in the basement, before I brought you upstairs to stay with me. I hardly cared, then, you were just another pet. A thing pretending to be a person that was just slow enough for me to catch. If you ran off or died or lost your marbles I'd just get a new one. Your cuffs were one-size-fits-all and the basement window has always been broken. You had a chance then. Not anymore. I'm more careful- you're special now. You made yourself irreplaceable.

You're padlocked to the wall when awake and the bed when you sleep. The chain is thick and your cuff is fitted perfectly. You're microchipped. You're cuffed and collared and branded. Its all permanent. Your captivity is permanent. I don't know why you delude yourself, you're not earning my trust. You're just making it so I never, ever want to let you leave.

[dykepervert]

need a girl friend who reluctantly lets me hit because she thinks it'll get it out of my system and make me stop being such a perv around her

[dykepervert]

it'll backfire of course. I just end up raping her whenever I feel like it. "you've let me do this already, what's one time more?" while she thrashes and screams

[reginaldjuice]

[softbabybutch-deactivated201804]

somnophilia with mutual consent is honestly such the mood. like hell yeah i wanna tease the fuck out of you while you’re asleep. not enough stimulation to wake you up, but just enough to make you think you’re having the best sex dream of your life. i wanna see you unconciously bucking your hips and grinding as my finger just barely grazes your clit and pushes in just enough into your soaking pussy that it makes you moan as though it were my strap on. you cant help but whine and whimper without abandon, especially when i run the vibrator all over your body. your nipples are hard and begging to be sucked, your pussy is dripping with need. its all a game of how far can i go before you wake up. but i’m sure you’d pretend to be asleep, even as i fuck you and make you cum like the helpless little slut that you are. my perfect little toy.

[butchergirrl]

really obsessed with finding the line where orgasms turn from pleasurable to excruciatingly painful. when the muscles have contracts and relaxed enough times that they're screaming sore. when the rush of endorphins become an anxious high that leaves you lightheaded and nearly nauseous. when you want your body to just stop, stop already but really its just a system of reactions and impulses that I can control

[the-sensitive-sadist]

Mating press feels so fucking feral it's unbelievable how good it is for cnc breeding. I need to force myself inside you, dig my fingers into your hip, wrap a hand around your mouth, sink my teeth into your shoulder, and forcefully thrust into you until I bottom out in your hole, holding you as tightly as I possibly can while I brutally victimize you for my own pleasure.

[girlknots]

I miss the yellowgreen grasses of late autumn

[joun-love-you]

[mastersoverminds-6]

Constantly reminding a sub who controls their body is important to reinforce complete and total submission. I recommend casually playing with erogenous zones in public until they melt into a puddle.

[celestedarlings]

Tiger Stripes <3

celeste • she/it • cishet and minors dni

[celestedarlings]

New favorite thing my body does: bruise along my stretch mark patterns🌹