Welcome

Mid-twenty-something year old. Silent lurker. Curious human. Ace. I don't bite...unless you ask me to. Not looking, just lurking.

[memoriesofforgetmenots]

Welcome to all those 18+. Those under 18, please leave.  

I’m a pretty shy late 20-something year old on the Ace spectrum. Somewhat Demi-sexual. 

I believe that sexuality is fluid, much like water. Constantly changing, flowing, melding, giving and taking, like the flow of the tides. 

English isn’t my first language, but I try my best. 

[belle-the-cat]

forced anal! feeling him slowly pushing his cock into my ass while I whimper into the pillow. he strokes my back gently, shushing me. I try to squirm away but he grabs my hips, pinning me in place, and hisses “take it. take it. open up for me.” I want to, I really do, but I hear myself begging him to stop, telling him he’s hurting me, I’m sorry, please no, please, it hurts, stop, I can’t, I can’t do it. crying as his thick cock begins pumping into me. and then he grabs my hand and pushes it between my legs and says “touch yourself.”

anyways so that was last night

[inkedftm]

i desperately want to play with someone while their legs are bound apart or to a spreader bar so they can’t close their thighs to escape the stimulation

[ransomdemands]

I want a soft dom to lovingly degrade me.

Praising me relentlessly while they lock me into an embarrassing position. Calling me names that make me blush and squirm. Touching me in ways that make me tingle under the ribs.

Making me feel safe and held while they treat me like an object for their pleasure.

[meangreendaddimack]

Cockwarming is nice and all but could you imagine me spooning you while you sleep, our bodies pressed as close as they can be, and my hands just start wandering? And maybe it finds its way into your shorts, maybe I press a couple fingers to your clit, maybe I tease it just enough to get you wet but not enough to wake you up. Maybe you eventually wake up to two of my fingers inside you and your cunt dripping and hips involuntarily grinding against me, and maybe as soon as I feel you wake up I press another finger into you and keep it there, make you get yourself off because you’re so needy, even in your sleep.

And then, just maybe, I let you give me a proper wake up in return.

[useyourwordsdarling]

One of the hottest things might be when a girl gets so overwhelmed she starts tearing up.

You keep whining and begging it’s too much, that you can’t do it anymore. It’s too sensitive, you’re too sore. But I can get close to your ear and whisper in a condescending voice “Awhh..You can’t do it anymore? That’s so adorable. I know you have came, princess but I haven’t yet. So I just can’t stop now…I can’t..”

Your soft pussy getting tighter after your orgasm, held and kept in place while I’m behind you. Holding your arms on your back and pounding you just to hear the noises you make “I know it’s too much baby, I know, but get used to it. You’re doing so well, my angel turns me on so much when you’re this desperate for me”

Your legs getting weaker the closer you get again, with my hand reaching your clit and rubbing it. Feeling the wet mess you are between your legs. “Look what a wet mess you are, darling. You don’t want me to stop, do you? Be honest and tell me how much you need your cunt stretched. Aww..That’s my good girl..”

Kissing your neck as you’re about to cum, telling you to not hold back. All so you’re left with your legs shaking. But I don’t stop rubbing your clit, still thrusting inside you while trying to hit your special little spot. Ignoring your whining and screams as your sensitive clit gets stimulated.

All so I can see your precious little tears when you’re so stimulated you turn into a mess. Because we both know you’re so much prettier when you cry, baby. So much pretty when you’re acting like the pretty little whore you are. And the more you cry the more it makes me want to ruin you..

[gentle-sadist2]

fucking her slowly while she covers her face with both hands, too shy to hold eye contact, so i pin her wrists down, force her to look at me as i push deeper, whispering what a pretty mess she is when she’s overwhelmed by her own need

[enbyfication]

godddd the idea of playfighting with someone cute and you get a little too rough and they let out a moan without realising it,,,, and you both stop as they immediately go red and won't look you in the eye and suddenly your heart is pounding in your chest and you go 'do that again' and start running your hands over them again, slower this time until their breathing gets heavier and turns to whimpering and they lose control completely

[violentlyhedonistic]

I want to tie you down, gagged, blindfolded,and bound with ear plugs in, and use you as a cock warmer. Completly deprived of any sensory input but my hands on you and my cock(s) inside you. Switch out my cocks throughout the day without warning so I get up and leave you aching, hole clenching around nothing, until I slam back in so much bigger, stretching you so much further without warning. Maybe I'll shove a knot in you - have some fun watching how your rim stretches as the knot pops in and out over and over. It's not like you can complain.

Pulling out to watch how your walls pulse, begging to be used and filled up again while you whine and cry against your gag. Don't be too loud or I'll have to shove a cock gag down your mouth, too, instead of just a ball. Or maybe you want, to be filled up for hours. You never want to be empty again, do you, little doll?

[violentlyhedonistic]

Aw, poor whiny baby, do you need to cum? Hush, it's okay, Daddy'll let you. Hands off me! Oh dear, you must've misunderstood. I know listening and thinking is hard for little ones. I said I'd let you, not that I'd help you. So you're going to strip and sit in front of me and touch yourself to completion. I'll be watching to make sure you don't hurt yourself on accident like a silly baby. Make sure to ask permissions for everything, in detail. I have to make sure you don't do anything harmful to yourself, after all! So you'll need to ask if you can please put a second finger inside yourself or if you may pinch your nipple, please? Now let's get started, little one, since you seemed so eager a minute ago ❤.

[fangpanties]

i literally want to fuck a girl so hard that all she can do is make incoherent noises and moans and whimpers and whines. to the point where i have to slow down just to get her to answer my questions & let me know if she's doing okay, just for her to beg me to keep fucking her. better yet, i stop to ask how she's doing and she's so needy & desperate for me she starts bouncing herself, fucking herself on my strap because she wants so badly for me to keep going

[the-sensitive-sadist]

Making you edge for me while I gently fuck you in the ass. Slowly tortuously sliding in and out of your hole as you whine and moan and desperately grind your hips back into me, your fingers frantically rubbing your leaky denied cunt. My warm precum dripping inside of you while your tears drip down your cheeks. Forcing it in deeper while I wrap a hand tightly around your neck and lean in close to whisper in your ear, still methodically sliding in and out of you, edging myself inside my favorite tight little hole. "Don't do it, sweet pet. Don't fucking cum. You're so fucking tight when you're in the edge, baby. You feel so good when you're stupid and needy. Don't you fucking dare cum."

[the-sensitive-sadist]

Strapping a vibrator to you on max while I bend you over my knee and spank you so your brain starts to associate the stinging pain with the overwhelming feeling of cumming your brains out. Eventually, I'll have you fully trained to cum while you're spanked even without the vibrator, just from the pain. What a pretty little painslut you'll make.

[bktempted-deactivated20251221]

I want you wet. Not just damp, not just a little slick. I want you so drenched, so utterly flooded from the inside out that your juices are dripping down your thighs before I even lay a hand on you. I want to see it pooling on the sheets when you spread your legs for me. I want it on my fingers, on my face, coating my cock until it slides into you with a sound that’s pure, unadulterated filth.

I want you messy. I want your mascara running down your cheeks from the tears you cry when you can’t take it anymore. I want your lipstick smeared across my mouth, my chest, my thighs. I want us to leave this bed looking like a battlefield. Fluids everywhere, your scent ground into the fabric. I want to look at you afterwards, completely wrecked, hair plastered to your forehead, bite marks blooming on your skin, and know we did something we can never take back.

I want to hear those sounds you try to swallow, the moans, the choked sobs, the whimpers that sound less human and more like some desperate animal caught in the throes of pure, unbearable pleasure. I want to push you past every polite boundary, every shred of composure, until you’re thrashing and screaming my name, begging for more even as you’re coming apart. I want to taste the salt of your sweat, the sweet, raw, uninhibited flavor of you when you’re completely undone.

When I look at you, I don’t just see someone I want to fuck. I see a canvas for the kind of beautiful, depraved art we could make. All I can think about is how good it would feel to ruin you in the best possible way, to stain you, to leave you utterly, blissfully broken.

Now tell me you want it too.

[spikyhaircollective]

[spikyhaircollective]

[bktempted-deactivated20251221]

Times Up. The room is dim, minimalist. Stark walls, expensive looking furniture existing as mere shapes in the gloom. The only prominent sound, besides your own ragged breathing, is a quiet, steady hum from a digital timer mounted on the wall opposite the bed. It glows with bright red numerals, currently reading: 00:59:57. Just under one hour.

"Ah, you're awake." The voice is smooth, measured. You crane your neck, heart hammering against your ribs, and see him emerge from the darker corners near the door. You don’t recognize his face, but you do recognize the calculated intent simmering in his eyes as they roam over your restrained form. He holds several objects in his hands, the glint of metal catching the faint light. "Good, we can prepare for the game."

He approaches the bed, his movements precise, almost clinical. Cold metal touches your skin, and you gasp as he expertly fastens clamps to your already peaked nipples. The bite is sharp, sending tremors straight down to your core. You instinctively arch your back, straining against the restraints.

"Patience," he murmurs, his fingers brushing against the side of your breast. "Anticipation is part of the fun." He produces a sleek vibrator next. You watch, mesmerized and terrified, as he lowers it between your legs. The silicone presses against your folds, nudging them apart, before settling directly onto your clit. He turns it on.

A low, powerful buzz vibrates through your entire pelvis. It’s not overwhelming, not yet, but it’s there — a relentless thrumming against your most sensitive point, amplifying the sting from the clamps.

"The rules are quite simple," he says, stepping back slightly to admire his handiwork, his eyes tracking the slight tremor in your thighs. "The timer counts down. When it hits zero, I undo the restraints, the door opens, and you’re free to leave." He pauses, letting that sink in. It sounds too easy. "There's just one small addendum."

His gaze shifts meaningfully towards the vibrator humming between your legs, then back to your face. "Every time you orgasm... an hour gets added to the clock."

You look down at the state of yourself as despair wars with a sudden, treacherous excitement. This isn't just about endurance; it's about control. Your control. All you have to do is not cum. One hour doesn't sound insurmountable. You can do this. You have to do this.

He must see the determination in your eyes because a slow, knowing smile touches his lips. "Let the games begin."

He doesn't touch you again, not immediately. He just watches. The vibrator continues its steady assault, the clamps pull with agonizing sweetness. You clench your teeth, focusing on the glowing red numerals, trying to meditate, trying to think of anything else — taxes, grocery lists, the pattern of the ceiling tiles. But the sensations are insidious. The thrumming deepens, spreading warmth through your belly, making your cunt clench. The nipple clamps send sharp signals that translate directly into a throb between your legs. You can feel the wetness building, smoothing a path for the vibrator, increasing the intensity with every passing second.

Sweat beads on your forehead. You bite your lip hard, tasting blood. Don't cum, don't cum, don't cum. The mantra pounds in your head, almost in time with the vibration. But your body isn’t listening. It remembers pleasure, craves it, builds towards it with terrifying efficiency. The pressure mounts, lower, tighter, a knot of pure sensation demanding release. Your breathing grows shallow, ragged gasps escaping your lips.

You see his eyes darken, tracking the flush rising on your cheeks, the way your hips begin to jerk involuntarily against the bed. He knows. He knows you're close.

And then, it happens. A strangled cry tears from your throat as the knot ruptures. Your back arches violently off the bed, straining against the leather, your toes curl, and pure sensation whites out your vision. It goes on and on, a helpless, shuddering release that leaves you trembling and gasping for air.

As the last tremors subside, leaving you limp and panting, your gaze darts towards the clock. The numbers flicker for a second, then reset: 01:45:58.

No. A sob catches in your throat. An hour added. Just like that.

He chuckles softly, a low, resonant sound that feels like a physical blow. "A valiant effort," he says, finally moving closer again. "But your body doesn't seem to share your resolve." He picks up a remote you hadn't noticed before. "Shall we try a different setting?"

The steady hum changes, becoming a frantic pulse, mimicking the flutter of your own heart. It’s deeper, hitting you in a way that bypasses thought entirely. You whine, already feeling the tendrils of arousal tightening their grip, building heat once again.

"No... please..." you gasp out, the words weak.

"Please what?" he asks, his voice smooth as silk. "Please make you cum again?" His fingers ghost over the inside of your thigh, impossibly light. He dips a finger into the juices pooling around the vibrator and brings it up, showing you. "You're already soaking again. Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind tries to fight it."

He leans down, whispering into your ear, "Let's add another hour, shall we?"

This time, the struggle has all but left you. The combination of the vibrator, the sharp pull on your nipples, and the exquisite torment of his mouth on your ear — his fingers occasionally dipping inside you, teasing, stretching — is overwhelming. You come apart with a scream, bucking wildly, tears of frustration and sheer sensory overload streaming down your face.

The clock resets: 02:31:55.

And so it goes. He becomes a master conductor, orchestrating your unwilling ecstasy. He uses his hands, his mouth, introduces new textures, new temperatures — hot wax dripping torturously along your stomach, ice cubes traced along your inner thighs before being slipped against your swollen clit. He fucks you, long, slow strokes that build friction to an unbearable degree, then switches to hard, pounding thrusts that hammer against your cervix, each impact jarring another orgasm out of you before the last has fully faded.

He talks to you throughout, a constant stream of commentary, praise, and provocation weaving into the fabric of your pleasure. "Look at how wet you get when I just touch you here." "Fighting it only makes it sweeter when you finally break." "Another hour. We have so much time together now."

Your mind begins to fray at the edges. The clock is a mocking presence, its numbers climbing higher and higher. Five hours. Six. Seven. You lose track, even as its crimson glow burns into your vision. The desperation to escape morphs into something else, something terrifyingly seductive. You’re drunk, lost in delirium, your thoughts splintering, your reality narrowed down to the next wave of sensation, the next inevitable, time adding release. You sob, you plead, you scream, but it all gets drowned out by the sheer force of the pleasure he orchestrates. Your body is no longer yours; it's a landscape he explores and conquers, again and again.

———

At some point, through the fog, you're dimly aware of him slowing down. The pace changes. The frantic edge bleeds away, replaced by a languid exploration. The clock... you squint at it through blurred vision... 00:07:12. Seven minutes left? After all that? How? Had he… let some time run down? A sliver of unexpected mercy, or just another part of his game?

He removes the vibrator, the clamps. The sudden absence of stimulation is almost painful. Your skin tingles, hypersensitive. He leans over you, his expression unreadable in the dim light. He reaches for the restraints. You hear the distinct click as the leather falls away from your wrist. Then the other. Your ankles.

You're free. The timer is still ticking down. Six minutes now.

He steps back, gesturing towards the door. "The game is almost over. You've endured. You can leave."

But... leave? The thought sends you spiraling, pure panic, colder and sharper than the initial fear when you first woke. Leave this? Leave him? Leave the reality bending, all consuming pleasure he gives you, the only world you've known for what feels like an eternity? The silence of the outside world seems terrifyingly empty, utterly devoid of meaning now.

The haze clears just enough for a new thought to crystallize. More time. You need more time. You need him to keep touching you, keep making you come apart. The only way…

Before he can react, before logic can fully intrude, your own hand darts down between your legs, finding your still throbbing, acutely sensitive clit. You rub with frantic desperation, chasing that familiar build.

"No... don't stop..." you sob, the words thick with cum-drunk urgency. "Please... gotta... gotta cum..."

He watches you, motionless, surprise crossing his features, quickly replaced by something intensely possessive. Five minutes left.

Your fingers are clumsy, slick with your own wetness, driven by pure need. You have to beat the clock. You have to earn more time. Staying here, lost in this endless cycle of pleasure and surrender, feels like the only thing in the world worth having. All you have to do is cum.

"Let me stay," you whimper, looking up at him, eyes wide and pleading. "Please... add more time..."

Four minutes. You gasp as the pressure builds towards its peak, faster this time, spurred by sheer panic and desperate desire. All you have to do is cum. Again. And again. Forever.