She had been (and was being) shy about making noise. This wasn't good.
He had explained to her that she was porn. Every part of her was porn. Tits and holes and hands and legs and everything, top to bottom. A pretty, vacant fuckdoll for him to get hard looking at and use. She'd accepted this.
But him saying even her voice was porn? Her whimpers? The moans? That had been harder.
It was just a little embarrassing for her. Even now, after all she'd done for him (and still did), she always tried to be quiet. It was a habit. A bad one.
So like her other bad habits he was going to fix it for her.
The setup for this was quite elaborate. She'd felt a thrill of excitement on seeing all he'd laid out for her, a thrill which quickly become one of slightly anxiety when he explained what it was he was going to be fixing, and how.
She was sat on a chair, legs apart and ankles tied to the legs. Wrists were tied behind her, secured to the back. Blindfold was on. The ballgag was new and she wasn't quite used to having it in. She was already drooling, and already getting wet.
The oddest bit was the headset. A totally normal one, the kind you might use for a work meeting - indeed, it was the one she used for her meetings. Earphones, microphone. He put it on her. Once he was happy it wasn't going anywhere (he'd made sure) he explained that, if it worked, what would happen was she would be hearing herself. He asked if she understood and she did her best to reply. A gagged, a dumb, muffled voice filled her ears.
So then he just started teasing her.
A nibble on the neck. Finger trailed across the collarbone. Kiss across the chest. Light stuff. It still got a response. She heard herself and knew she must have gone even redder than he normally made her. She hadn’t meant to make the noises but they'd slipped out, and he must have turned the gain or volume up or something because even gagged and subtle she'd heard them loud.
So humiliating. She squirmed in the seat but he knew his way around a knot and she wasn't going anywhere.
Sometimes he'd just step back. Give her some seconds to pant in the darkness, heart racing with expectation before he started again, usually going lower. She told herself she'd keep the sounds in - for dignity, to prove a point, she couldn't think - but she couldn't. He'd trace a nail around a nipple, or graze his teeth over one, or just grope her.
At one point he must have got his cock out because he pressed her tits around it. That got a full-on groan, her head lolling back as she pushed her chest towards him. Automatic response.
It was getting harder to be embarrassed, and easier to get wet. A part of her still knew it was her she was hearing, but that part was shrinking. Mostly she could just hear a girl. A breathy, moaning, whining, needy girl. The kind she knew from all the porn she'd seen. Porn. She could hear porn.
His fingers slid into her and it all made sense. She was porn. All of her. She got it now. She accepted it. Nothing was held back - nothing could be. All of her was for him, however he liked, however made him happiest and hardest. Dignity wasn't for her, at least not when he needed her. There was nothing to be embarrassed about because it was for him.
Of course, gagged, she had no real way of telling him she got it now, and by the time he finished she wasn't really able to speak more than two words anyway. But that was fine.
She was fixed all the same.
(The second time was just to make sure.)
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stormborns
romaincrisis
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