i wanna be fucked at a party in front of a dozen well dressed men. i wanna be forced to degrade myself in front of them, as they film me with their phones. i want to cum my brains out, tits bouncing and legs shaking. i want them to make me humiliate myself a little worse every minute. from saying degrading phrases to humping their shoes to stripping naked and fingering myself on the table. then being held down, legs spread wide and watching as one of the men shoves his cock into me. getting so drunk, i can't tell who's fucking me anymore. saying, doing whatever they want me to.
only to find myself all over their social media posts the next day (:
Go to your bedroom, take your clothes off, and check how wet you are. Acknowledge what happens to you when you get bossed around like submissive slvt you know you are.
can't stop thinking about being tied up in some girls basement with my legs spread and a vibrator tied to my clit. I'd be there for hours, just forced to take one orgasm after another. maybe they'd even set up a camera in there so that thousands of people could see my poor little abused cunt in a livestream and get off to my sexual torture. someone please volunteer 😵💫😵💫😵💫
What I love is picking an outfit like this that makes me look like a whore. Then covering it up with a coat before driving to a hotel where all I know is to head to a specific room number. I knock on the door and drop the coat to the ground. For the next few hours I am treated like an object, a pig, a fucktoy, just a thing to abuse for a mans entertainment. I'm slapped around my ass is red, my tits are red, my throat has been used like a pussy, my ass has been split open by a hard cock. I've been humiliated and controlled, made to beg for my own abuse and degradation. Then just as easily as I entered the hotel room I'm told to leave, grabbing my outfit that's been scattered around the room then driving back whilst feeling amazing after receiving the abuse I crave.
Hole Inspection. You’re up before the sun, the room still dim, air cool against your bare skin. Master’s daily hole inspection waits for no one, and you’re already buzzing with that mix of dread and heat. He’s methodical, always has been — top to bottom, no shortcuts, no mercy. You’re on your knees at the edge of the bed when he steps in, his shadow cutting across the floorboards. No greetings, no small talk. Just that look — sharp, expectant, like he’s already peeling you apart.
“Open,” he says, voice low and clipped. You do it fast, jaw dropping, tongue sliding out flat and wet. He wants you drooling, not just moist — full on slick spit cascading down your tongue, proof you’re primed and shameless. You feel it drip, warm and messy, and he nods, satisfied. Two fingers come next, shoving straight past your lips. They hit the back of your throat hard, testing you. Your eyes water, throat clenching, but you lock it down — gagging’s not an option. Not for you. You’re built for this, trained for it, and you're ready to prove it.
“Suck,” he orders, pulling them out just enough to let you work. You clamp down, lips tight, sucking like it’s your last shot at air. Fast, sloppy, in-out-in-out, tongue curling around his knuckles. You taste salt and skin, feel the ridges of his fingers drag against your teeth. He’s not gentle, doesn’t need to be — you’re his tool, wetting him up for what’s next. When he yanks them free, they’re gleaming, dripping with your spit, and you know what's coming next.
“Legs,” he says, already moving on. You flop back onto the bed, thighs splitting wide, knees bent so far they nearly kiss your shoulders. Your pussy’s out, bare, lips swollen from the way you’ve been clenching since he walked in. Then his fingers are there, the wet ones, sliding along your slit, parting you. He presses in slow, one at a time, bending them just enough to scrape that spot inside that makes your toes curl. You’re soaked already, no surprise, but he checks anyway — pinches your clit between his thumb and knuckle, tugs it lightly, watches how you twitch. “Responsive” he mutters, more to himself, “good so far, slut.” He drags his fingers out, smears your own juices across your inner thigh, marking you.
Next is your ass. You flip over, lifting your hips, showing off the plug nestled snug between your cheeks. It’s heavy today, steel, cold when you slid it in last night per his rules. He grips the base, twists it, making you feel every inch as you stretch to accommodate it. You bite your lip because the pressure’s got your pulse hammering. He tugs, just enough to test the resistance, then shoves it back in place. “Good, you pass,” he says, and that’s it — inspection’s over.
But he’s not done. You knew he wouldn’t be. The zipper is loud, his pants hit the floor, and he’s taking you before you can blink. Cock out, thick and blunt, nudging your pussy open. He fucks you hard, hips snapping, bed creaking under the force. It’s your reward — raw, fast, no frills, just the slap of skin and the burn of him filling you up. You’re still slick from his fingers, still trembling from the plug, and it’s too much, too good. He doesn’t sweet talk. This isn't just about love. No, this is about making sure you know who owns every inch of you. When he’s done, you’re a mess — sweaty, leaking, plugged and perfect. Ready to start the day.
hole inspections are soooo hot to me. like yes daddy please put me on all fours and spread me open and touch me and taste me and take notes about how wet and tight i am for you. not for either of our pleasure but to make sure they’re good enough for your use. and make sure to spank my pussy and ass if i’m not up to your standards
have this huge fantasy about my dom/me suggesting a game. Tie me up and shove anything you like in my slutty holes.
'I'm going to fuck you with this for 30 seconds. if you can guess what it is, we will move on. if not, you're going to cum around it like a desperate, pathetic whore.'
how embarrassing it would be to cum from being fucked by a broom handle, a carrot, a tv remote . 'pathetic. you'll take anything I give you, huh slut?'
'don't get too many wrong, there are a lot of items to guess. you don't want to get too many wrong, do you sweetheart?'
thinking about laying next to the sweet darling i've just finished fucking, the tears not even dry from their face, not even willing to curl up in any position other than how i'd had them face down, and the moment they finally do try to move, i decide, no no, not just yet, and move back on top of them, knees on either side of their thighs, and they let out a pitiful whimper, mumbling something about being too tired, they're too sore, and i just spread their ass, look at how much i've punished their hole already and spit on it
and they try! they make a good try to squirm away, begging me not to, it hurts, too fucked out, please stop! it's been hours- and i slide back inside of them, listening to their choked off cries, their moans of pain, watching the way they grab at the sheets, and lean down close to them and shush them and explain, 'i like you better like this - now say, 'thank you.' i'm just helping you remember that this is exactly where you belong'
Let’s go out to drinks with your two hot friends and then go back to one of their houses. You were all buying me cocktails so I’m nice and drunk and it’s so easy to toss me on the bed and take turns doing whatever you want with me.
You’ll let your friends take my clothes off me and tie my hands together with my shirt so I don’t need to worry about what to do with them. You put me on my back, push my legs open, push my feet close to my ass so I’m nice and splayed open for everyone to see. It’s kinda nice to hear the three of you talk about how cute I am and how pretty my pussy is.
You all decide to play a game and have me tell you what objects feel the best to get fucked with. You start with the top end of a wine bottle. I’m not wet at all when you start and I whine cus it hurts going in but then one of you is playing with my pretty pink nipples and one of you is stroking your cock and letting me watch and it gets me wet enough that the bottle starts sliding in and out nice and smooth.
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