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@holy-goddess
She/her, transfem, I am a lesbian and a dom service top.
I am polyamourous and in a relationship
I use the RACK framework.
General warning for some dark/extreme kinks and whatnot.
I generally reblog stuff here but occasionally I write some erotica on here.
My tag for my writing is #the dragon roars
Terf/ageless blogs/ Transandrophobia dudes/minors don't interact.
not a lot of talk about siscon dragongirl tribadism in society these days signs of the times
wife who slips an aphrodisiac into your drink and waits until it kicks in to start violating you so she can tell you how fucked up it is that you're enjoying it so much... and you're so confused and scared because you know you don't want this and it hurts so bad,, but why else would you be completely fucking soaked..
there's something so hot about a restrained sadist domme... trying to sweet-talk me into untying her, slowly losing her patience until she's almost shaking with anticipation. telling me she won't hurt me through gritted teeth.. if i just cut her loose she won't hurt me. and when i still refuse to come close she finally snaps, promising that when she gets her fucking hands on me i'll regret this. spitting insults at me, telling me when she's done with me i'll be a shell of a person. and all i can to is stand there, my stomach turning. knowing it's only a matter of time before she gets what she wants
"second person doesn't get a lot of use in english" clearly you aren't writing enough sadistic porn
"second person doesn't get a lot of use in english" clearly you aren't writing enough sadistic porn
"second person doesn't get a lot of use in english" clearly you aren't writing enough sadistic porn
Golden Week
@HimeHinghoi
Golden Week
@HimeHinghoi
You always knew you were meant to birth a monster. When I wasn't turning into one fast enough, you decided you had to help things along.
Not all at once, maybe a curse with a painfully graduated onset, or something subtle you slip fractionally into my food every day.
It does happen fast, though. I start to get bigger, taller, centimeter by centimeter, and my muscles grow too. My clothes start to get tight on me, first in a sexy way and then impractically, and I cry when I can't fit into them anymore but you tell me you'll help me find more, and your heart rate raises as you can see veins start to grow defined beneath my skin. My hair grows longer, down from my scalp and up from between my legs, soft and wiry and furry, and I'm so embarassed at it peeking out above my wristbands and creeping down my spine.
My emotions start to spin out of control, my teeth sharpen, my nails grow hard, I keep breaking things, hurting myself on accident, being horrified when I scratch someone too hard or break the skin with a bite by mistake, and I panic and I break down and I curl up in your bed sobbing and I'm too big for you to get her arms around and even though I'm crying it makes you so wet. And I can smell it. I can smell every part of you and not just you but everyone. I can tell by scent where every ovary within a quarter mile is in its cycle but I don't know that and I don't know what that means and all I can smell is blood and sweat and need and pheromones and when I break one of your bedposts from grabbing it too hard, desperate to restrain myself, the look in your eyes is hungrier than even I have become.
And I am horrified by what I am becoming and you have never been more aroused and you buy chains and silver and tell me that it's going to be okay, that this is normal, that mommy knows what to do, and you train me to be safe, to control myself, to be controlled. By her. For everyone's safety.
And you teach me that the only safe thing for me to do, what I HAVE to do, is let her take care of my new massive knotted cock that won't ever go down or stop throbbing but it's too big for anyone to take and it's too much and you can't help but tease and chide and punish me for being so needy and monstrous and I can hear the muscles in your cunt twitch when you do and I need you to break my mind until I give up on being good and let you corrupt me into a monster of a daughter that isn't good for anything but breeding her mom so full that it hurts and the cum goes everywhere and curling up chained in a cage at the foot of your bed every night and devouring every man on the street that looks at you wrong.
You always knew you were meant to birth a monster. When I wasn't turning into one fast enough, you decided you had to help things along.
Not all at once, maybe a curse with a painfully graduated onset, or something subtle you slip fractionally into my food every day.
It does happen fast, though. I start to get bigger, taller, centimeter by centimeter, and my muscles grow too. My clothes start to get tight on me, first in a sexy way and then impractically, and I cry when I can't fit into them anymore but you tell me you'll help me find more, and your heart rate raises as you can see veins start to grow defined beneath my skin. My hair grows longer, down from my scalp and up from between my legs, soft and wiry and furry, and I'm so embarassed at it peeking out above my wristbands and creeping down my spine.
My emotions start to spin out of control, my teeth sharpen, my nails grow hard, I keep breaking things, hurting myself on accident, being horrified when I scratch someone too hard or break the skin with a bite by mistake, and I panic and I break down and I curl up in your bed sobbing and I'm too big for you to get her arms around and even though I'm crying it makes you so wet. And I can smell it. I can smell every part of you and not just you but everyone. I can tell by scent where every ovary within a quarter mile is in its cycle but I don't know that and I don't know what that means and all I can smell is blood and sweat and need and pheromones and when I break one of your bedposts from grabbing it too hard, desperate to restrain myself, the look in your eyes is hungrier than even I have become.
And I am horrified by what I am becoming and you have never been more aroused and you buy chains and silver and tell me that it's going to be okay, that this is normal, that mommy knows what to do, and you train me to be safe, to control myself, to be controlled. By her. For everyone's safety.
And you teach me that the only safe thing for me to do, what I HAVE to do, is let her take care of my new massive knotted cock that won't ever go down or stop throbbing but it's too big for anyone to take and it's too much and you can't help but tease and chide and punish me for being so needy and monstrous and I can hear the muscles in your cunt twitch when you do and I need you to break my mind until I give up on being good and let you corrupt me into a monster of a daughter that isn't good for anything but breeding her mom so full that it hurts and the cum goes everywhere and curling up chained in a cage at the foot of your bed every night and devouring every man on the street that looks at you wrong.
girls will be like "we're just close friends" and then stumble out of her bedroom the next morning feeling something slithering around in her stomach
our liberatory sexually uplifting lesbiqueer Strap™️©️ vs The Enemy’s hegemonically normative cisheterocoded repressive penile-rapeorgan
our liberatory sexually uplifting lesbiqueer Strap™️©️ vs The Enemy’s hegemonically normative cisheterocoded repressive penile-rapeorgan
buncha oc art
Mm. That's right, I have a spell for you. Hold this watch to your ear. Listen closely. It's about two ticks and a half a second. The clockwork is old or cheap or both. Higher quality mechanisms would be closer to four or five. It'll need frequent calibration to be useful as a timepiece. Close your eyes now. Irregardless of its flaws, I've no plans to rid myself of it. It's like you.
escaping that specific context. there is a lot to be said about the psychosexual appeal of being ruined. breaking kink my beloved. and of course i especially enjoy the psychology of the villains. it's just hard because you don't want people taking your in-character posting of how this is "actually a good thing" and taking it seriously. under no circumstances should you genuinely believe the kidnapper has your best intentions at heart, and it's a bit yum-yucking when a large amount of the responses you receive do so.
