[poisednpretty]

Things I find hot and religious trauma found here. This is fantasy and I dont condone xyz whatever etc. Age is in my bio. Honestly, know as little about me as possible.

Writing Tag: #poised.txt

Art Tag: #poised.png

..++:==:××+..--_==##*,,,.==÷==+××,-..//

See tags and mind the content 💋

[ace-trainer-alice]

I just think it must be really difficult to care for the tertial feathers where your wings meet your back, so I'm offering my help with preening. That's why I'm wearing the gloves, to not intermingle the oils. Stop walking backward. Surely this is better than the alternative? It seems like it'd feel really uncomfortable to have to reach your hands around back there. Oh, what do I get out of it? Just the satisfaction of a job well done. And maybe also listening to all the little noises you make.

[ftmboysstuff-deactivated2025071]

God I need a dom who will wake me up with their mouth on my boycunt, sucking and licking me until I’m a sobbing screaming mess with their arms pinning my thighs and hips down so I can’t squirm away. Who will slap my tdick when I move to much or beg for them to stop, that I need a break, please, I’ll be good, just a tiny break. Who wont stop until they’re satisfied because I’m truly just a toy for their pleasure

[deadpooldomme]

Letting him fuck me but hes leashed, collared and has his hands cuffed in front of him. Pulling the leash to get him to go deeper and faster. Telling him what a good boy he is, fucking me soo good. And warning him that he’ll be punished if he cums before me when I feel his hips start to stutter against me. Him desperately whining for me to let him slow down, panicking because he’s so close. Poor thing, you’d better figure out a way to get it together because I’m not ready for you to slow down. And when he inevitably cums I’d tell him how disappointed I am that he hasn’t been a good boy. Getting my strap and bending him over the bed. Watching him try to grip on to the sheets while I fuck him like the needy slut he is until he cums again, with his cuffed hands wrapped around his wet cock and little choked noises coming out of his pretty lips.

[boydecapitation]

wanna gag and tie up a pretty bitch. pump up his boypussy until his cunt lips and dick are nice and puffy, glistening from his wetness before i just absolutely torture his messy hole. dont you see how lewd you look? arent you embarrassed? youre letting me do whatever i want to you, completely immobilized, yet still looking up at me with fuck-me eyes like the dirty fucktoy you are? gonna start by just slapping his cunt and fingerfucking him, fuck him with a dildo after, make him cum over and over. but eventually i wont be able to take it anymore, he'll be overstimulated and still i'll press his knees up into his chest, moaning while i bury my tongue in his needy slutty cunt

[pup-jpg]

It's always morally correct to cuff his wrists to the headboard and press a vibe to his dick and hold down his hips when he tries to pull away from it btw. If he says anything along the lines of "please it's too much" or "I can't cum again" that means you're doing the right thing. I know it may seem extreme but it's really important that you watch him twitch and cry pitifully and bite down on his lip to try and muffle a moan as he cums, eyes welling up with tears, too overstimulated to speak, cock still twitching reflexively. For his own enrichment.

[subspaceemo]

I want a dom to make me wear a strap while they fuck my ass. I whimper and moan and watch it bounce in time with their thrusts, "fuck, that's a good boy," they grunt as the friction makes my toes curl, "want me to stroke your cock?" They caress the length of my silicone cock, occasionally pushing it down hard enough to make friction with my hard little cock, I gasp and tangle my hands in the bedsheets, "does that feel good? Do you want to cum? Are you going to cum from my stroking your big hard cock?" they play with the tip of the strap, jerking it so rapidly that I bite my lip. My brain connecting the sensation to my cock and my stomach clenches, before I know it I'm bucking up into their hand and cumming with a desperate yell. They smile and keep stroking, "aw, you're still so hard, I'll have to keep going."

[hemipenal-system]

womb tats are hot but what about womb brand courtesy of the dragon that owns you

[hemipenal-system]

two kobolds holding down each of your limbs while the dragon rears back and sprays fire across the brand until it’s glowing orange, then uses a paw on your chest to hold you still while the other one presses the scaldingly hot brand into your abdomen

now everyone will know who you belong to and where to return you if you manage to escape somehow

[brokenbraindyke]

At first it annoyed me when the cashier at the liquor store started flirting with me. This always annoys me. The invasive questions, the leering, the assumption that I'm straight. Usually I correct it immediately.

"Does your boyfriend smoke too?" Clearly fishing.

"No, no boyfriend," I said, and though I considered the follow up of the usual reply of, "I'm gay," I ended it there.

For reasons still unknown to me, that I'm scared to think about too deeply, I didn't this time.

"Oh," he said, smiling, "are you looking?"

Even more baffling, instead of no, I said, "I don't know."

And the flirting only became more persistent from there. I go to this store at least three times a week, for cigarettes or alcohol. Probably a concerning amount. There are other stores I could go to and I dread this interaction, and yet I keep going back. I never flirt back, but my compliance is enough for him.

Over the weeks, that dread has morphed into something else. The squirming in my stomach isn't uncomfortable anymore - it's warm and exciting. It's a relief that somebody wants me after all, even if it's a man.

I know I've let it go too far when I start thinking about him at night, alone in bed. I should be longing for women, but that just makes me sad and bitter. This man, though, who I call Liquor Store Guy (because he told me his name once and I truly could not be assed to remember it), he never hurt me. He makes me feel wanted three times a week. So I end up thinking about what he would feel like, what he would do to me given the chance.

After all the fantasizing, it doesn't take much convincing for him to lure me into a back room.

"There's a new beer you should try," he says with a smile on his face that says there's more than alcohol he wants me to give a chance, "let me show you."

I can't say I'm surprised when there's no exciting new beer. It's a utility closet that smells like cleaning chemicals he leads me into, locking the door behind us. Hardly romantic. He crowds me against an overstuffed shelf, and it's not like anything I've imagined.

He's so much bigger than any woman I've been with; taller and wider and stronger. His hands are rough when they drag over my body. His beard scratches my face when he kisses me.

Suddenly, I'm scared. How did I let myself be trapped like this? It was only supposed to be in my head. My hands scrabble at his chest - too broad, too flat - and I try in vain to push him off.

"I'm a lesbian," I barely manage to mumble into his mouth.

He just laughs. "Are you sure? We've been flirting for weeks. Don't be a cocktease."

And then his tongue is in my mouth and the only protests I can offer are pathetic whimpers. His hands are under my shirt. He's grinding his pelvis into me. I can feel something hard and foreign against my lower stomach. This is going way too fast.

But despite my fear and doubt, I feel the familiar warmth in my belly, slickness in my underwear. It's been so long since anyone wanted me like this... maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Just this once. I find myself kissing him back, almost before the thought has entered my head.

I only notice he's pulled my pants down to my knees, panties along with them, when the cool air hits my aching pussy. It's shocking how wet I am from being borderline molested in a utility closet, but here we are. It takes no time at all for his own pants to follow, and then I'm faced with the stiff appendage I've managed to avoid for so long.

I can't help but stare. It's both bigger and smaller than I'd expected. More than any dildo I've used, but less than the internet porn stars that are the only reference for a real flesh-and-blood penis that I have. I wonder if it'll hurt.

He doesn't give me time to think too much about it. He guides it to my cunt, rubbing the head against my clit with a soft groan that makes me shiver. It's so warm, hard yet pliable at once. My hips jerk against him, grinding against that point of friction, but my pants around my knees restrict my movement. I find myself kicking them the rest of the way off.

"Dyke, my ass," he laughs, rough hands on my hips to hold me steady. He pushes into me again, past my lips this time until the head of his cock is nudging at my soaked hole.

I can feel my heart pounding in my pussy, against the tip of his cock. He holds it there for a moment, let's me feel the girth of what's about to fill me. Then he thrusts forward, slow and steady. Inch by inch, I watch him sink into my virgin cunt, feel the burn of stretch. It does hurt, just a little, but the heat of it is better than any dildo has ever been.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, "I've been dreaming about this pussy for months."

That makes something in my stomach flutter, my cunt tighten even more around him, my hips grind down on his cock even deeper.

And suddenly I'm being fucked by Liquor Store Guy. It's not gentle or romantic or passionate. It's animal and needy, like he just can't help himself after finally getting what he's wanted. The sounds of his cock plunging into me hard and fast, his grunts of effort, my gasps and whimpers fill the small room. The heady smell of sex barely overpowers the sharp cleaning products. He's not kissing me anymore, but gnawing at my throat like an animal.

It's nothing that I wanted or imagined, but maybe its what I need.

I hitch one leg over his hips and his hand on my ass guides me to grind into every thrust. His cock hits a spot deep inside me that makes me gasp and moan, pressure quickly building in my belly. His thrusts are coming faster and rougher, the shelves rattling as he drives me back into them.

He pushes into me once, holds his cock deep inside my twitching pussy. I can feel it, throbbing and hot, filling me like I've never been filled before. I know, on some base level, that he's about to cum inside me. I know I should do anything I can not to let that happen.

Instead, I wrap my leg tighter around him, arms around his neck, and hold on for dear life.

It feels like an explosion, his groans in my ear and the frantic twitch and throb of his cock so deep i swear it must be in my womb. Waves of warmth - what must be his cum - making me melt from the inside. Stars burst behind my eyelids as my cunt contacts, milking him for every drop. I never want this moment to end.

So, its a disappointment when he pulls out of me with a contented sigh, setting me back down on shaking legs. He pulls up his pants, unceremoniously tucks his cock away. I pull on my own clothes and immediately feel his cum dripping into my underwear. I'll have to walk home like this.

I think he's about to leave without a word when he says, "Give me your number. Next time, I want to take my time with you."

I hate how excited I am for next time.

[analdyke]

when you're done fucking a dyke's brains out remember to leave her immobilized in a humiliating position and with something shoved inside her like she's a flesh trashbin

just pounded the car mechanic butch who thought she was one of the guys? leave her barely conscious face down ass up in front of her shop, with her sweaty, slap-mark covered ass cheeks in full view and with her wrench, hammer, and whatever else you can fit in there sticking out of her fucked out asshole

done giving your lesbian gym buddy the shower stall breeding she's been asking for with the way her workout clothes clung to her fat wobblemeat? leave her bent in half, upside down with her legs in the air, against a locker. then push her water bottle into her cunt. let others find her like this.

that artsy dyke who's been inviting you into her workshop to show you her paintings in progress? after tying her to her workbench and using her holes, fill them up with all of her paintbrushes, pencils, markers and so on. make it a game out of how many you can fit in her. remember to take pictures. show her what you think of her and her art

she'll love you for it!

[teratocrat]

if you were my stitched-flesh champion i would hang you from the ceiling by thorny chains terminating in cruel hooks during maintenance like some kind of shibari automobile and i would take scalpel and pliers and a dozen little leaden needles to fix extra muscles under your skin and i would carefully lay basins beneath you to catch drips of the oily rusty sludge that sluggishly courses through your veins in lieu of blood. and when i etched bleak antilanguage runes down your spine or across your chest the candles of my necrochirurgical theatre would gutter and flare with agitated tongues of violet and citrine, chartreuse and greasy ashen grey. and it would be good, and you would be good, and in your usefulness to me you would be good.

[torment-and-delight]

The young priest looks so pretty this way; sitting on my lap, with a rosary stuffed into his mouth. His eyes are wet and glassy. Drool runs from the corners of his mouth. Lightly, I trace my sharp nails up and down the length of his holy rod, until his poor denied cock is leaking a constant flow of his own sham,e.

His hips buck and roll on my bulge, as I tease him. I can feel the last remnants of his resistance slipping away. The once frantic prayers have devolved into quite whimpers, punctuated by a sharp gasp as I rake the sharp point of my nail across his drooling slit. He's ready for me now.

Two fingers press against his lips and he opens meekly. My fingers, coated with his own sin, invade the cloister of his mouth. The taste is strong, but the shame is stronger. I loop the beads over my questing digits, and draw them from his lips, before once again exploring his mouth with my hand. Without his blasphemous gag, his whimpers take on a deeper pitch. The beads themselves are slick with his saliva, and I have a truly wonderful thought.

"Tell me, Father," I coo sweetly, "do you remember the first time we met? You were so kind, and so warm to the poor sinner in the last pew. Why, you even gave me this rosary and blessed it yourself!"

The poor thing is beyond the realm of intelligible speech, but his big brown eyes widen and he slowly nods his head. Tears threaten to spill from those deep wells, and I want nothing more than to taste that delicious sacrament. He must have some sense of what I'm thinking, because he begins struggling to escape my grasp. I grip is cock tightly to dissuade any thought of escape.

"Shhhh, Father, it's okay." Even though my soothing words bring him no comfort, "You didn't know that the devil had come to your parish. Unfortunately the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I think it's time that I return your blessing."

His struggles become more frantic when I bring the rosary to the head of his weeping cock. As the first bead enters his abused staff, his whimpers and moans rise to a keening wail. The beads are a tight fit for his young body, but I will broker no resistance.

He trembles like an autumn leaf from the pain of this new indignity, but the wild look in his eyes betrays him. My cock throbs against his plump ass, eager to be freed and to claim my priest, but I restrain the urge to mount him. He's only taken one decade, and I want to completely fill his cock. Bead and after bead force their way in, as I begin to pray.

His tears fall with the first 'Hail Mary full of grace". The fight leaves his body, and his struggles turn to deep spasms. I feel his body go limp as I stroke his abused cock. My fingers glide over the bulges left by the beads, now fully embedded in his holy flesh. When I teasingly flick the crucifix that stands tall and inverted from his head, the sound he makes is scarcely human. Whimpers and screams have turned to gut wrenching sobs. Now. Now he is ready for me.

[poisednpretty]

Faithful to a cruel god

Refs: x x

[daughtxr-of-lilith]

.✞.✞.✞.

Imagine a priest who's been good his whole life. Who's kept his hands clean, his vows intact. Until me. Until he hears my voice in the dark, confessing things so filthy he can't pretend he's not hard under those holy robes.

I want him to kneel, not for forgiveness, not for penance, but because he's too far gone to pretend anymore. He keeps adjusting his collar like it's going to save him, even as his eyes stay locked on me, wide and desperate... already confessing every filthy thought. I want to watch his perfect little facade crack, see his fingers tremble when he tries to clutch his rosary, mumbling broken prayers that dissolve into gasps. Until the only thing left on his lips is my name.

And later, when I'm riding him in that dark little room, the cross hanging on the wall feels like it's watching every second of it. He tries so hard to keep his eyes shut, to pretend he isn't losing himself, but the way he moans, low and broken, like a prayer, gives him away. Every time I sink down on his cock, he forgets the guilt, the shame, the faith he swore he'd never betray.

All he can think about is me. His new religion. His new salvation.

[doing-something-unholy]

Tying a priest down to his own office chair and mouthing at his cock through his slacks until he starts whining and begging to cum.

Then pulling away and looking at him wide-eyed, faux innocent, "But wouldn't that be a sin, Father?"

[dream-in-seoul]

As long as I can remember I was obsessed with the idea of religious sex. Being fucked on an altar as an offering to a God. Being a high priestess, getting her pussy eaten to symbolise devotion to ancient gods. Praying naked, but with a veil over my hair. Getting wet in church.

[spicy-little-storyteller]

Imagine you’ve pushed your favorite priest into the confessional, in the dark quiet church.

And he’s holding onto the walls as he whines out“wait! wait!” from his pretty little lips, while you pump his pretty cock harshly.

You cover his mouth as he gets close, and he can’t seem to control his volume. His moans sound so sweet. So desperate. Yet you stop just before he cums. You let him go, and he humps his hips to the air grasping out for your touch.

His eyes are wild, tearful, as he’s looking to you all needy. He’s such a good boy. You decide to sit him down, and straddle him, because he looks so cute with tears in his eyes, that you’re gonna let him paint your insides with his pretty holy seed.