put her canine teeth in the side of my neck

molly, he/she | 24 | horny side blog

[petshopbutch]

one of my favorite gangrape scenarios to think about is it happening in a kind-of public place. a busy hotel with thin walls between rooms, a camping ground lots of people are sharing, a locked bedroom at a house party. being fucked and abused and touched for hours by half a dozen groping hands, hungry mouths, hard cocks and knotted dildos, in a place close enough to be in earshot, able to hear all the obscene noises, the grunting and choked moaning and the wet slap of skin on skin, but far enough away to be out of sight. so they have no idea im crying and squirming and hoping it'll end soon, that i won't have to cum a sixth.....or maybe seventh.....or tenth? time around my rapists' cocks. they think im having the time of my life being a shameless slut.

[watersmoothstones]

i want to be the goddess you keep chained up in your basement. in the beginning, when i thought i was human, i used to struggle and scream and fight back. now i take your offerings with grace, accepting your worship and that of the new flock of devotees you’ve brought to me. i take their sins into my body and allow their lips and tongues and fingers to wash me clean at the end of their penitence. you collect the alms they leave for me so i do not need to concern myself with the tedium of humanity’s greed. when you take of my body in holy communion, my high priest, you leave me in exquisite agony or ecstatic pleasure. the ambrosia you feed me keeps me soothed, even as this earthly realm would have me give over to base fear. you all see to my mortal body, keeping it clean and fed, while your worship touches my divine self and drives us all closer and closer to ascendancy. i am the goddess of this temple and i cannot leave it, but i do not need to. the bars around my altar are there to frame my beauty and contain my divinity. if i were to leave, i would cease to exist. what is a goddess without her temple, without her devoted worshipers? what would become of me if i were to fall mortal once more?

[watersmoothstones]

It took so much time and effort to stretch my pussy around your fist that even after you’ve made me come on it twice — screaming and shaking, clit rubbed raw, walls fluttering and clenching around the unyielding shape of your hand — you’re still not done with me. 

I cry when you pull out of my cunt, tremble and sob as your fingers play with the rim of my gaping hole, pinching and stretching and fucking in so easily. You’re gonna keep me open, you tell me, and you shove a beer can into my cunt. 

It hurts, but it’s also cool against my overheated flesh. I can feel the beer inside it sloshing around against the thin aluminum sides. 

You pull up my briefs to keep it in place and help me stand. It’s painful, and I can’t walk without waddling around. It’s embarrassing enough with just you there. When your friends start to show up, I can barely meet their eyes. 

You don’t need me to meet their eyes. You turn me around, bend me over whatever’s closest — the kitchen table, the arm of the sofa — pull down my pants and show them the can. They laugh, tapping the top of it, fucking it in and out of me in short, shallow thrusts. My cheeks burn. Tears well in my eyes. 

When all of your friends have arrived, you take me out to the back patio, strip me down, and lay me out on the rough concrete. They tower over me, leering and laughing, drinks in their hands that I should have made but I couldn’t because my hands were so shaky and I could stand up straight enough to reach the liquor cabinet. 

You’re here. Down on your knees with me. You push the beer can back inside me when my pussy tried to force it out. You laugh at me, too, but there’s pride in your eyes when you do. Then you start fucking me. 

The beer sloshes inside the can as you shove it in me, pull it out, and shove it in again. It hurts. It feels so good. My body doesn’t know what to do with it. 

Your friends are still talking and laughing. Somebody has a phone aimed at me, filming. Another crouches down and works my clit. 

Tears spill over. You fuck me harder. Faster. I’m so wet, so needy. You fuck me with this huge thing and I can’t help but love it. Love you for hurting me so exquisitely. 

When I feel my orgasm getting close, I ask, beg you to let me come. You smile, tip my hips up, and say, “yes.” 

The new angle hurts more, feels strange, but doesn’t stop the pleasure. 

When I come, you stop fucking me and I’m confused for a moment at what your hands are doing, until I hear hiss-pop of the can opening. Until I feel the explosion of it, beer and foam spilling over me, over you, over the ground. It’s like I’m squirting, like I’m ejaculating. It covers me. Spattering my chest, dripping from my thighs, pooling on my belly. I understand, now, why you brought us outside. 

It smells like beer. Everything smells like beer. You lick some of it off me. You pull the can out and I scream and you pour the rest of the beer all over me, face and body and cunt. 

You’re covered in it, too. My come. 

You leave me there, lying in the puddle of it, your friends taking pictures and videos. The one whose fingers were on my clit has the same fingers in their mouth, tasting me. 

My cunt feels so empty now. After being so full for so long, it gapes open like it was made to be stretched wide and needs something hard to clench around. Like it’s ruined. It will never be the same again. 

I expected the hose, but not this gentle stream of it. The water is soothing as you clean me, your hands soft against my skin. You warn me before aiming the flow over my face. 

[watersmoothstones]

We need to bring the horror back into sex demons. Like yeah that succubus is going to fuck you exactly how you want. She’s gonna look inside your mind, find your deepest, darkest desires, and drag them into the light with you kicking and screaming and coming all the way. and when she takes your fantasies from you one by one, bringing them to life in the harsh light of reality, you’re going to lose yourself, your soul, inch by inch, in perfect pain and perfect pleasure. And when she’s done wrecking you in every possible way, is there even a you left? could the mewling, leaking, empty thing she made of you be considered human? or are you just a doll now, something for her to tire of and discard. if you’re very lucky, she might use you as a prop as she twists and takes some new victim’s fantasies. a tool of her pleasure and cruelty. an object, waiting, lonely and broken, on her shelf. 

[kornac0pia]

godddddd. fuckkkk... being in and out of consciousness, waking up blearily to the feeling of more alcohol being poured down my throat, passing out to the feeling of your cock pulling in and out of my pussy... blinking myself awake again later to the feeling of cum shooting ropes down my throat, passing out again to the overwhelming sensation of my breasts being twisted and gripped desperatly... rhythmatically falling in and out of the waking world to the same results. to the feeling of you fucking me whole

[ace-trainer-alice]

Control brings with it a supreme kind of calm.

It sits in your lap. Through the front of your shirt you can feel its naked back. Your own back resting against a pillow, though you can feel the wooden headboard through it. Beneath the entangled two of you lay a mess of blankets. Ten minutes ago they were neatly tucked in, but your toy's been a bit too excited. In your right hand, your fingers gently hold its leash, with much of its length wrapped up further. Your left hand runs free along its body.

Control. To order, limit, or rule something, or someone's actions or behavior. For you, control is the essence of power. Control is with one hand limiting and restricting the motion of your toy's body to the point where it can't even escape your lap. Control is the way it shivers at your touch and the way it speaks at your whim. Control is found in the marks of ownership you've left on its mind and body for all who behold it to see and know you by.

Your fingers idly twist and pull around its leash. The back of your thumb clicks along the grooves in the nylon webbing. You never fully erase the slack, but you've kept the length shifting. Partially it's just stimming. Enjoying the feel of the smooth polymer cord against the calluses of your hand. But even more it's to keep an awareness of the leash in your toy's mind. You can see how the leash affects its movement. Even when it's shuddering in pain or pleasure at your touch, it never strays too far, never fights it, never tries to escape.

At this high point of control, you feel relaxed. Every inch of your toy's body belongs to you. Not in a loose sense of possession, but in a real sense of knowledge. You know how it will respond to your fingers wherever they may land, and you adjust your touch accordingly. That epistemic claim is held in the forefront of your brain, and fits like a gemstone set in a crown. Each moment further polishing your claim through observation, and verifying it through action.

The fingers of your left hand dance across the dimples, grooves, and bends of its body. Where your toy expects you to touch it, it writhes. Shifting away or toward your left hand as its body demands more pleasure or less pain. Your hand approaches the right place and it shies away. Red and purple marks out spots you've already gone to work enough to cause a flinch. But, it shifts back as well, knowing what you expect and knowing that the choice to continue is yours, not its. On occasion it moans, when the lightest touch is still enough.

Today's exercise of control has been one of marking. Further trial and error with your toy's body, exploring the kinds of marks that may be left and how to best leave them. It's a slow and methodical process, and your toy sometimes grows bored of such exercises, so between targets you take the time to keep your toy's mind engaged. Pressing down on bruises, groping sensitive spaces, biting when it doesn't expect you to, or simply whispering the right words at the right time.

The moment shifts and a decision is made. Left hand snakes up back of neck while right hand pulls it back from fighting. Flat hand reaches into hair before making a fist. A squeal of shock with a hint of moaning underneath. Twist to the side, revealing the neck, and bite down. Enjoy the moan. Listen to its volume and depth, keep it from getting too loud and press harder when it gets too steady.

This goal lies in keeping your toy's mind from ever moving too far from shivering in pain or pleasure, from panicked anticipation of your next action, from desperation and expression of desire. On some level, this is your primary task and your primary skill. Everything else supports it, from the trappings and the signifiers to the expressions and the substance.

It writhes and shakes against you. Hips press up and down and bone hits bone but clothing dampens it. The pain makes you giggle. Its naked flesh lightly bounces in front of you. The rhythm of the writhing enough to cause such motions. The pain reaches another high point and it starts breathing out swears before you pinch it through its hair and the sounds become apologies.

You'll keep this going for another minute or two, until the pleasure dies out and it just becomes pain, then a few seconds to rest before moving on to another body part. Keep it from ever fully relaxing, so it can never quite collect itself. It's truly so lovely to be the one in control.

[terribe-coincidence]

A little bit fucked up how much I like those pics where the sub is bolted to the floor. There's a series of them that you can tell is from one specific location: one where they're testing it out in private, one where they're doing it in the middle of a party.

Can you imagine being that sub? There's something about the permanence of it. You're naked, helpless, kneeling on the deck surrounded by fully clothed men. Feeling the metal straps around your limbs and hearing the drill screw you in.

I wonder what it was like after they had her all screwed down, but before the party started. My pussy would be soaked. I might just cum from hearing the first guest ring the doorbell.

[terribe-coincidence]

You need to make $40 fast? Drag the old mattress you have into the back of your cargo van. Drag me by my hair to the van and throw me down on the mattress.

Start by playing with me. I'll protest a bit, but we both know it's all for fun. Undress me, slap my face a few times, rub my cunt roughly. "To get it ready," you tell me.

Tie me spread eagle to that mattress, using the anchor points on the inside of the van, so it's nice and secure. I still don't know what your plan is, I'm too lost in the pleasure of your fingers inside me.

The cherry on top is you gagging and blindfolding me. You look back to admire your work, and I whimper at the lost friction of your hand.

Then, you tell me the plan."I'm not going to fuck you," you say, wiping your wet fingers over my body to clean them. "Not today. We're in the van cause today I'm your pimp, and I knew you wouldn't take to it easily." My body stiffens. "So today I've made an arrangement with a man on the Internet who wants to rape you." You slap my cunt for emphasis. "I'll drive you there and watch him violate your pussy. And who knows, maybe he'll tell his friends and I can spend all day driving you around, watching strangers rape you for $40. Do you think I'll have to lower it once your hole is all sloppy and stretched out? Maybe just $20 then. Or I could let people cum in your ass instead." This time you slap my ass, hard. "Good luck slut. And try not to tire yourself out before we get there. He told me he wants you to struggle."

[terribe-coincidence]

I know this is every tboy's fantasy but please make me work out for sexual reasons.

Like, slow warmup stretches, getting handsy and very close. Talk me through it, and if I make a noise smirk and say "oh? You like it when I stretch you out?"

Watch my ass bounce as I jog on the treadmill. Really listen to my heavy breathing as it turns into panting.

Spot me on the bench press and make sure I'm looking up your shorts directly at your dick. Brush it against my lips "on accident".

Make me do too many leg presses, so when I get off the machine I can't stand up. Use the pretense of helping me walk to molest me covertly.

Then, when we're alone in the showers, fuck me bloody. I'm too weak to fight back, too tired to even protest that much. Use my body like a porno magazine taped to a fleshlight. Sculpt me into your perfect fucktoy.

[terribe-coincidence]

"Fuck" he moans, as he slams into me.

I had driven to his house out in the suburbs that night because on Wednesdays his wife has girls night. She'll be out of the house until 8:30.

Their house is nice and meticulously clean. Family portraits hang on the walls. There's a cross by the door.

He told me yesterday over text that he wanted to meet up. That he has a problem: he loves his wife, but he's a pervert and she's not. So he gets sluts barely older than his own son and ruins them. He needs to, he explains, so he can continue to live a happy normal life.

The porch light is off, and my hand has just risen to knock on the door when it opens suddenly.

"Come in, come in. Hurry up. Did anyone see you?" He pulls me inside, off the dark street, and closes the door.

"I don't think anyone saw me."

He's big. A little fat, heavily muscled. I watch his anxiety about being spotted settle in to a predatory gaze. I can't help squeezing my things together.

"Good. Good. I don't want to have to explain why I had a such a dirty little slut at my place. Look at those perfect tits, Jesus." He grabs one over my braless T-shirt, thumb circling my nipple slowly. "Call me daddy."

"Yes, daddy," I tell him as I squirm just a little. He starts pulling on my nipple, coaxing it to stiffness. His other hand roams down and rubs my pussy through my jeans. I moan breathily; a pornstar moan. My pussy is wet already. "Thank you, daddy," I say, my voice hitching when his grip on my nipple tightens and he twists painfully.

"Take off your clothes, I want to see your tight young cunt drip for me."

As I strip he takes out his cock and strokes it lazily. Other than that he stays completely clothed.

"That's a good whore. Now spread your pussy. Show me what I'm about to ruin." I follow his orders.

He touches me everywhere. My ass, my tits, my thighs, the back of my neck. He takes him fingers and explores the inside of my mouth. Then he inspects my cunt. At first they're rubbing, then one easily enters my pussy. "Clench," he tells me, so I do.

"Good, you'll do just fine." He grabs a handful of my hair and leads me through the sparkling kitchen and into the garage. There's a laundry machine in the corner, his car, an empty spot for hers, and an old couch in front of a tv.

"Whores don't get the bedroom. Now get up on that couch and spread your legs. Rub your cunt for me and moan. I want to see your nipples hard and your brain leaking out of your hole."

[terribe-coincidence]

He taps me on grindr, tells me that I look sweet, says he loves trans guys. He sends me two pics, one of his face (handsome, well-groomed, slightly devious smile) and one of his dick (not terribly long, but thick and prominently veined, fully erect).

He promises a good night, all on him. He says to dress nice, cause we're going out.

I get into his car at 6 and he takes us downtown to that new restaurant everyone's been talking about. I don't notice how many cocktails I've had, I'm just enjoying the night, flirting with this man and being spoiled. He leans over and snakes an arm around me, hand feeling my nipple through my binder.

"Damn, you're too hot. I can't fucking help myself." He says, low in my ear.

He pays the bill and we leave quickly.

His apartment isn't far. It's one of those luxury modern ones, with floor-to-ceiling windows whose view stretches across the entire city.

As I'm admiring the view I see his reflection coming up behind me. With a spike of fear and arousal I notice how imposing he is. Large frame and well cared for muscles. He puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Now, I've spent all this time and money on you. Don't you think it's time to even the balance? You can't have thought you were getting all that for free, could you?"

My cunt starts to ache. I involuntarily squeeze my thighs together. "What do you want me to do?" I ask, the teasing edge gone from my voice, replaced by need and fear and complete submission.

"First, I want you to know about the rules in my apartment. Little sluts like you don't get clothes in here. Take them off and fold them by the door. Once we get that ground rule out of the way, then we can talk about repayment."

I turn and lock eyes with him while I strip, looking up through my eyelashes, but keeping my face still. He sits back on the couch and watches me. It briefly flashes through my mind that this must be what cows up for auction feel like.

His eyes follow me as I set my clothes beside the door in a neat pile and return to him. He's still fully dressed, shoes and everything. He's got his dick out and is stroking it lazily, enjoying how small and helpless I look, naked before him in his apartment. The lights are on, and I realize that even from this high up people on the street could still probably see my bare ass facing the huge window.

"Kneel on the floor for me. There you go, good boy. You take orders so well. I knew you were a good investment. Now, the way I see it is you owe me, you understand? So here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to make you my pet for the rest of the night. I'm going to own you. I'm going to fuck you however I like, for however long I like. Your tits, mouth, ass and cunt all belong to me now. I'm going to ruin your perfect pussy and your ass and you're going to cry for me cause that gets me off. I'll slap and choke you, degrade you, spit on you, use your face to wipe cum up off the floor, and to top it all off I'm going to fuck you against that huge window so the whole city can look up and see the slutty cuntboy who let me use him like a cumrag. I think that sounds fair to me."

[squeakycleanfantasy]

oh fuck i just wanna be drugged in every way possible. slip something in my drink to calm me down, shove whatever libido raising drug down my throat, make me inhale whatever you want to relax my holes and make me go limp, maybe even overdose me a little so i’m reaaaaal fuckin horny and pliant. then tell me none of this is real as you force your strap into me or make me eat your pussy out.

[vileputridity]

Getting gangraped at a house party in some stranger’s bed. Lying on your back in missionary with your arms duct taped above your head as a group of men you’ve never met before take turns on your holes, while one of them forces you to take vodka shots straight from the bottle. Feeling the pain dissolve into pure pleasure, getting dizzier with every sip, all of their dirty talk slurring together as you slip into a braindead state of bliss. Having load after load emptied into your cunt, inside your ass, onto your tits as they walk out of the room one by one, until you’re left filled up, coated in cum and all alone, ready to pass out without a care in the world.

[christclown]

You think that the zip ties are coming off after the scene, but I know that you really need the bondage to relax. I move you, shower you, cuddle you and stroke your head as you go to sleep. You don't need to be able to move for yourself at all.

[ftmuse]

i need to be the entertainment at a poker game for a bunch of sexually frustrated older men, just have me laid out on the table for them all to play with between hands…. having to cockwarm whoever won the last hand 😳

[terribe-coincidence]

Mm you get taken in on a leash and chain, blindfolded, and made to lie in the center of the table. As the betting starts people toss their chips on your naked body. Someone is idly playing with your nipples. You feel more than one pair of hands groping you. Finally, when the hand is over not only do they take their chips, they take you; pulling you by your leash off the table and on to the floor where he uses you like a fleshlight. Once he's done he lifts you up, still inside you, and sits back down at the table. You're impaled by his cock as the cum drips out of your hole. They play a few more hands- the man who's gripping your leash and has his fingers in your mouth is losing. You hear them laugh and talk about "how much is the whore worth, do you think?" They settle on five dollars, and suddenly you're hoisted onto the table again, still dripping and panting a little. You're being used as a five dollar chip. This hand a different man wins. He bends you over the table and fucks you. The next hand a man forces you down on your knees under the table to suck his dick. Another finds a vibrator and forces you to orgasm. When you do everyone laughs and cheers and slaps your hole. You spend the night being used by everyone around the table

[ftmrapeslvt]

Introduce me to your friends

It starts off casual, we all smoke and watch a shitty movie while chatting, a few drinks here and there. I'm at ease but still sober enough to be aware of everything.

You don't want me fully intoxicated, you want me to remember this.

I'm sitting in your lap when the conversation starts to drift and a couple people complain about being bored.

"I have something for that" you say. Then suddenly I feel your hands pushing at my waistband, I squirm and look at you, confused.

Then, as if planned, your friends hold me down while you slowly strip me. I protest and struggle the whole time but I'm no match for a group. I whimper and start to cry as you spread my boycunt with your fingers. Someone gropes my chest and another person pulls out their camera to get a good shot.

"I think he can keep us entertained for a while" you say cheerfully, starting to firmly rub my tdick, getting me wet and ready for your friends cocks.

You hold me as each of your friends takes their turn raping my tight hole, spilling their seed deep in me, continuously stroking my cock making me helplessly moan and cum at my rape.

I'm so full of cum that it leaks and dribbles out, i fully give up my feeble struggles, going limp and brainless.

Then it's your turn.

You bend me over the coffee table, and fuck me slowly in front of everyone, draining the last ounce of dignity from me.

"beg to cum on my cock, beg to cum and put on a show like a good boy" you whisper in my ear, your thrusts getting faster as you climax.

And I beg, what else can I do? I cum harder than ever before with all those eyes on me. And it's not really rape if I like it, right?

I'm the centerpiece of the evening now, I realize.

"who's ready for round two with him?"

[hard--byte]

what, dear mouse, would we all need to be really cool about?

look. look look look. medfet is great: doctors and nurses and surgery suff, checkups, cool i guess, fine. but what i really crave is to be an involuntary patient. a long time ago. when things were crueler. i know this is not good. yes i have been inpatient, yes in modern times, and if you have something to say about the mistreatment of patients then or now, i don't want to hear it. this is not the space.

knowing that, you can hit the read more if youre gonna be chill and/or if that kinds stuff isnt triggering for you

i sometimes jerk off to being mistreated that way. i want to be chemically restrained. when that doesnt work, tied down. cuffed properly. a straightjacket would thrill me. i want a nurse who tuts that they don't know know what to do with me. i want a therapist who begs me to tell him what's wrong so i can spit in his face. i want cruel, painful therapies with terrifying machines. at the end of the day i want a doctor who, with no other choice, forces the needle into my skin and makes me go to sleep. routine torture that never breaks me how they want me broken. just shatters me worse a million other ways.

i get so hard thinking about being bound up and foggy in the head. wheeled somewhere i barely recognize, but hell, all white tile looks the same. gloved hand on my cock. one under my nose. hands all over, working the agitation right out of me while i thrash and seize and curse and cry. and the most reaction i get is someone in the corner, scribbling notes, for a file with my name on it that i'll never see.