"It's okay, baby," I say, while pushing into you. "This is what friends do." All as you moan into the pillow, your ass propped up high for me.
"God, you look so fucking pretty like that," I whisper as you drool over my fingers, my cock stirring up your pretty, sloppy insides. You shudder, feeling my hot breath against an ear.
"Is it wrong that I wanted you since the day we met?" I ask. You groan in response, shivering at my slender fingers wrapped around your waist. Wrapped around your perfect, gorgeous body. Touching you. Groping you. Loving you.
"You just looked so, so pretty. So perfect. I wanted you for myself. I needed you for myself." You shudder, feeling my shaft tremble inside you, my heavy balls lightly slapping against you. There's nothing between us. No distance, no barrier, just skin on skin. I would never be able to keep my hands off you. Never.
Not to be monster-fucker on here but can y'all imagine how good it would feel to have tentacle suckers on your clit and nipples and each hole stuffed with a different tentacle swirling inside of you as the rest are acting as ropes, keeping you tied down and defenseless?
Her roommate’s voice. Through the thin walls the girl hears begging, ragged gasps, and a creaky bedframe. Her ears perk up as she sits upright in bed. Closer to the cheap drywall, the girl eavesdrops on her roommate and her boyfriend. Not wanting to miss out, she pulls off her panties and tosses them over the side of the bed.
The girl lip syncs the dirty talk as she rubs her pussy. Over the year since they had moved in together, she had learned her roommate’s favourite lines. Fuck me until I can’t think. She rubs frantically at her clit. You can do whatever you want to me. A finger slips inside. Harder, please, harder. Rapid strokes in and out of her hole.
Desperate for a visual aide, she unlocks her phone and pulls up a video. The girl mutes the audio, preferring the live performance. Masturbating to the sounds of her roommate’s orgasm she feels her own start to build. “I’m going to cum.” The muffled announcement forces her to pull her fingers away from her pussy. Heart pounding, she squirms to keep herself from rubbing more.
As her roommate cums on her boyfriend’s cock, the girl feels her own fade. Safe to resume her touching, she focuses back on the video. The beautiful woman in the scene enjoys her orgasm. Her pussy throbs with each thrust of her fingers. She’s giddy and lightheaded at the thought that she’ll be the only one in the home denied tonight.
Her heart leaps as a notification pops up in front of the video. A text from her roommate: Come here. The girl hops out of bed and prances over to the adjacent room. She slowly opens the door and creeps inside, careful to not disturb the last moments of their lovemaking. Her roommate is sprawled on the bed as her boyfriend slowly thrusts inside the satisfied woman.
“He’s really close.” The roommate announces. Glancing at the girl’s wet, bare pussy, she scolds her. “Don’t get any ideas.” Embarrassed that she forgot her panties on her bedroom floor, the girl nods as she kneels down next to the bed. The boyfriend pulls his throbbing cock from the beautiful woman and pushes it into the young girl’s mouth.
Immediately her senses are overwhelmed. His swollen cock is about to burst, immediately stretching her jaw and throat open. Her sense of smell and taste is flooded with the flavours of her roommate’s pussy. She must have cum really hard, I bet it felt amazing. The girl resists touching herself, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to keep herself from cumming while he fucks her mouth.
Gripping onto her hair, he starts to cum after only a few thrusts. His semen is forced down her throat, then fills her mouth, then drips down her chin. The girl quivers as she feels it run onto her breasts and thighs. The man pulls his cock out for the last bit of his orgasm. A thin strand splatters her face, tracing a line from her forehead down her nose to her cum-dump mouth.
As soon as it started, it’s over. She savours the taste of their sex as her roommate tells her to get lost. Only a minute after the girl arrived, she’s kicked out of the room. Holding on to the vicarious pleasure, she refuses to swallow. She curls up in bed, being very careful to not wipe away the cum on her face and body.
Too close to orgasm, the girl is unable to edge anymore. Instead, she turns her attention back to the last minutes of the video still playing on her phone. She knows every detail of this scene. The camera is handed off to the beautiful woman. Her roommate smiles as the frame shifts, showing the original videographer and the man. The girl watches herself suck her boyfriend’s cock to completion.
imagine you’re at the gym superrrrrr late one night
and maybe you’re a little paranoid because it’s late at night but you just can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching you
you check and check but you never spot anyone else in the gym
you’re not the brightest, so you see no problem in showering at the gym before you go home, even if you feel a little unsafe
you always act a little bit like a dirty slut in the shower because you think it’s silly
you stick your tongue out and look up with puppy dog eyes, pretending you’re about to have your pretty face absolutely defiled
you make a show out of washing your tits, massaging them and making them extra soapy
you of course stick a cheeky finger into your naughty holes, just to double check that you’re extra clean
you’re scared shitless when you hear someone open the locker room door
you flush all over absolutely humiliated and embarassed with how you were acting in a public space, thankfully no one saw you but the door opening was just what you needed to stop playing around
just as you’re about to turn off the water the curtain behind you is pulled open
you whip around, one hand instinctively covering your tits and the other your princess parts
before you could so much as get a scream out, you’re manhandled to turn away and are pressed into the shower wall
a giant hand covers your mouth and another holds your slutty body tight to the man behind you, you struggle against him, only causing his grip to tighten
the arm holding you keeps you in place while descending down your body, he skips right over your achy clit and goes straight for your fuck hole
he slides two fingers in with ease, you tell yourself it’s the shower water that’s giving him easy entry but deep down you know that’s not true
his fingers work almost too fast leaving you dizzy and unsatisfied
you continue your futile attempt to break free, accidentally fucking yourself more on his fingers
before you can process what’s happening he rips his fingers out, your abused pussy clenching and leaking around nothing
a hard hand smacks your tits, when you go to scream the fingers that were just in you get shoved down your throat, you gag as you taste yourself on your r4pist’s fingers
you feel his hard, throbbing cock at your drippy hole
you go to scream only to choke and gag more on the fingers being forced down your throat
the man behind you wastes no time filling you up, stuffing you in one go, the stretch of his massive cock burns but your eager whore hole greedily accepts the intrusion
the man stands up fully and lifts you with him, you sink onto his cock more, crying from the fullness
he leaves the two of you like that for a bit, forcing you to cock warm
you start to cry once you realize just how much of a mess you’re making all over his dick
you haven’t stopped leaking, your body knowing it needs a good fucking
you whine and are horrified when you find your hips starting to rock, desperately seeking to be fucked
“good girl”
you’re relieved for a few moments as he fucks you up and down on his monster cock
you’re dangerously close to cumming when he sets you back down and bends you over
he pulls his fingers out of your mouth and his dick out of your fuck hole, ruining your orgasm you were so close to having
before you can scream and cry and embarrass yourself more, your drippy hole is stuffed once more
this time though, it’s not a cock impaling you
no, he shoved your shampoo bottle as far as it could go into your tight little pussy
“no no no take it out!”
your ass is smacked hard in response causing you to shut up
“be a good little fuck doll or i’m not going to let you finish tonight”
he fucks the bottle in and out of you a couple times, the wet sounds of your greedy hole accepting any kind of fucking mortifies you
the bottle stills and you can’t tell if you’re relieved, your hole aching to be fucked again
one hand pushes your head down holding you in place, the other starts to prod your back entrance
you really start to kick and scream
“anything but that! please! you’ll split me right open, im begging you anything but that”
“shhhhh daddy’s gonna make you feel so good princess”
one finger turns to two, two turns to three
every time a finger gets added the bottle buried in your cunt is fucked in and out of you
you’re a moaning, groaning, overstimulated mess
dumbly, you fall for the same slap scream finger combo as before
you’re forced to taste your ass as the man positions himself to enter your other fuck hole
this time he doesn’t hold back, fucking you at a brutal pace
it hurts but the fucking in your ass causes the shampoo bottle in your cunt to rub deliciously against the sweet spot inside you
you don’t cum but he does
you feel hot, thick ropes of sperm shoot into your ass as he stills
you stay like that for a long time, a bottle in your fuck hole and a fat cock cock warming your other fuck hole
the man plays with your nipples while you’re forced to cock warm
“i gotta keep you ready and fuckable for the next few rounds”
“What’s for dinner?” His guest leans against the kitchen counter, watching him cook. Washing his hands thoroughly, he describes the night’s menu to the young girl. She fawns over the man, barely paying attention to his words. He steps in front of her as he talks, running his hands up her legs and under her skirt.
“That sounds really good…” The girl wasn’t listening, but she trusts his skill. The man’s thumbs hook onto her panties and slide them down. She gingerly lifts one foot, then the other, letting him remove them. Casually, he drops her underwear on the table. Their conversation continues.
They flirt as he prepares his mise en place. He walks from the fridge to the counter, groping her chest he passes by. Satisfied by his setup, he eyes her hard nipples through her shirt. The girl meanders through a story about her day as he lifts up her top over her head. Handing it to her, she folds it and puts it aside.
The man chops vegetables and makes small talk with the half naked woman. Transferring the ingredients to a tray and placing it in the oven, he glances up her skirt. She smiles, opening her legs slightly and lifting up the hem to give him a better view. He washes his hands again and sets a timer.
With a few minutes to pass and his hands free, he plays with the girl. Her story is interrupted by his fingers in her mouth. She grips onto the counter and curls her toes as he presses his fingers into her warm pussy. “You’re so wet…” He observes. “…just from being stripped? Desperate slut.”
She nods vigorously, grinding her cunt into his hand. He laughs at his plaything. The girl blushes as she shamelessly rubs herself on him. He mocks her: “My silly little doll. I can do whatever I want to you, can’t I?” The timer rings. A faint whimper as he pulls his wet fingers from her pussy. His cum stained hand joins the other in her mouth.
The toy washes his fingers with her tongue, tasting herself. He wipes her spit off on her skirt and spins the girl around. Pushing against her back, she bends over the countertop. The man pulls off her last piece of clothing and tosses it into the corner. Still bent over, she pulls open her thighs, showing him her pussy and ass.
He gives her a firm spank and resumes cooking. She maintains her position, making sure he can see her needy holes. Their conversation carries on. The man takes the lead, telling her what their plans are for after dinner. The girl can only whimper and agree, too horny to add much to the conversation.
The cook plates the food. Her portion is cut into bite sized pieces and served in a bowl. He brings the dishes to the table, placing his next to her panties on the table and hers on the floor next to him. Turning back towards the kitchen, he takes another moment to admire her pretty body – her tight pussy and ass open and ready for him.
“Dinner’s ready – here girl…” She drops to her knees and crawls over to him. The girl’s expression is bright and cheerful. A dazed glint in her eyes hints at her state of mind. “Thank you, sir!” He smiles at the loyal woman. Reaching into his pocket, he takes out her collar and clicks it around her neck.
“You’re welcome, pet. You’re a good puppy. Now eat your dinner.” Her eyes glaze over and her mouth opens as her head dips towards the bowl. She won’t speak again unless told to.
I always get disappointed by rly hot rape posts that end w the victim giving in, realizing they love it, begging for more and needily fucking themself. Like sorry I’m here for rape /: more tears and wailing into vacant and distant gazes please
You're having a nightmare. In it Master has his cock down your throat. You're gagging, trying to breathe, but he's not giving you a moment to rest. His cock seems impossibly long, and your esophagus impossibly deep; every time you think you've reached the bottom of his shaft, he seems to go a few inches deeper. Tears are streaming down your face, drool hanging off your chin, sweat collecting on your forehead. But the rape—in the dream you know it's rape, though you have no idea how you got here or where you are or even what your surroundings look like—the rape isn't what makes it a nightmare. In fact, for as violent as it should feel, the rape is actually fairly peaceful. The part that terrifies you, fills your dreaming mind with such inescapable dread, is how badly you want it.
His cock must be miles long at this point. His thrusting is speeding up, his broad hands gripping your head more tightly, his nails digging into your skin. You feel him begin to bulge, expand with what must be liters of cum, but his cock is so long that the process isn't instant. The bulge of cum travels down his shaft, like a cartoon character shoved through a pipe too small for them. You feel, and somehow also see, the bulge shooting down your throat, ever deeper, seeming to gain size and speed as it goes. It will be at the head any second now, and when that happens this desperate hunger inside you will finally be sated. You find yourself trembling with need, and simultaneously gripped with absolute terror at just how complete that need is. The two feelings merge into one, a heart-pounding breath-catching spine-tingling skin-crawling something that is too intense to be either good or bad. You know the moment his cum hits your throat, everything will change.
And then you wake up.
The dream ends before you open your eyes. For a long moment you can't move at all; every muscle in your body is seized up in fear, and you can't seem to remember how to relax. You feel something running down your perineum to your ass, and you realize with disgust that your pussy is dripping wet.
The bed of the slave suite is nicer than the one you have at home. (Had at home. It's not like that stuff is yours anymore.) The mattress is huge and perfectly goldilocks-ed between soft and firm, and the silk sheets feel incredible on your naked body. You never sleep naked, but in sheets this soft you might not mind being forced to. As your body begins to relax and you're able to move again, you find yourself stretching out, luxuriating in the bed, allowing its softness to envelop you.
You hear the electronic whir of the lock on your door, and moments later Master is there in a black silk robe, watching you. You sit up and lift the sheet to cover yourself—an odd time to get self conscious, maybe, but you feel the need to control something—but he gives his head a little shake. "Take that off. There's no hiding your body from me." You let the sheet fall, and resist the urge to cross your arms over your breasts. But you sit with your knees together, so he can't see how wet you are. That, at least, he doesn't seem to notice.
"Today is obedience training," says Master. "I doubt it will be enough to completely break your will; that takes time. But at the very least you'll learn my rules, and what happens when you break them. Now, time for your first lesson. Lay on your back and spread your legs."
You wonder how much you can allow before it becomes your fault. Last night you had no choice, you were tied up. You couldn't move, much less stop him as he fucked you. Raped you, you remind yourself. But you're not tied up this morning. You could fight back, at least try to fight back. If you don't try to do anything to stop him, doesn't that mean a part of you wants him to do it again? You need to prove that you don't want him to do it again. You press your knees tighter together and stare at him defiantly.
He just smiles. "Mmm, you're resistant. That's good, it means you get to learn this lesson early." Before you can think he's lunging toward you, his robe billowing open behind him. Under it he wears only a pair of black silk boxers and through them you can see how hard his cock is. This is his favorite part.
He's on you in less than a second, and you're relieved to find that your fight-or-flight response really does kick in. With no option to flee you find yourself beating against him with your fists, kicking with your legs, trying to wrestle out of his grasp, but he is larger and stronger than you in every count. He gets on top of you, his swollen cock twitching against your stomach, and wraps his hands around your throat. You tug at his arms, try to buck him off, but the harder you struggle the tighter his grip gets, and the weaker you feel. You look up into his eyes and see them gleaming with amusement. You stop resisting.
He holds you there a moment longer, letting you plead with your eyes, letting spots play across your vision, before he relaxes his grip and allows you to gasp for air. He does not get off you, nor does he fully release your neck. "I am stronger than you. I am faster than you. I am smarter than you. You cannot overpower me, you cannot outrun me, and you cannot outthink me. Do you understand?"
You stare into his eyes. You can't be sure how clever he is, but he's definitely not lying about the other two. "I understand." Then, remembering yourself, you add, "Master." You feel his cock move when you call him that.
"Good," he says. "Now, because you resisted me I'm going to have to hurt you. You're still learning the rules, so I won't go too hard, but understand that the more you resist the worse it will get. Are you ready?"
What else can you say? "Yes, Master."
He slaps you very hard across the face. Pain shivers across your skin, making your eyes tear up. You thought he hit you yesterday, but that was nothing. That was just getting your attention. He pulls his hand back and when he hits you again it's a little better, because you can steel yourself for it, and a little worse, because he hits harder. As the immediate pain fades, the skin he struck feels tingly and hot. You close your eyes as he raises his hand again, and then he's taking your nipples between his fingers and pinching quite hard. This one surprises you—you suspect that was the point—and you yelp, though to be honest the pain is brief and not as bad as the slaps. You feel his cock strain against his boxers, and take a mental note: he likes when you cry out. Does that mean you should be more vocal, hoping he'll get what he wants and move on, or stay quiet, hoping he gets frustrated and gives up?
You don't take Master for a man who gives up easily.
Indeed, it seems like he's done punishing you for now, though whether that was always his intention or he was waiting for you to cry is anyone's guess. He rubs your cheek tenderly with the same hand he was just using to strike it, brushing away the tears the pain brought to your eyes. "There, there," he says. "I don't want to hurt you..." He looks down at his cock, rock hard against your stomach, and laughs. "Well, you can probably tell that's a lie, but it's no fun when you haven't earned it. Do as you're told, try your best, and I won't hurt you very badly. I may spank you for making mistakes, but that's just responsible slave keeping. Now, are you ready to cooperate?"
He's shown you it's useless to resist, at least head-on. All you'll get for fighting back is more pain, and he promised to make it worse next time. So you say, "Yes Master."
"Good," he says, finally getting off you. "Now. Spread your legs." You do as he says, and notice with some surprise that you are no longer ashamed of your nudity. Maybe those slaps knocked something loose in you, whatever part of your mind was still clinging to the idea of preserving your honor. You're going to have to give up on pride if you want to survive this situation.
Master kneels at the foot of your bed to get eye level with your groin, and makes an appreciative sound. "It really is a beautiful pussy. You'd go for quite a lot with a pussy like that, even with that attitude of yours. Not that I'm planning on selling you anytime soon. Anyway, go ahead and play with yourself."
You lift your head to look at him, trying to tell if he means what you think he means. What else could he be talking about? It just seems out of character, having you pleasure yourself without pleasuring him. "You heard me," he says. "Masturbate, like you would in your own home. This is your home, after all."
"Yes, Master." You lay your head back on the pillow and lower your hand to your pussy. It's still quite wet from the dream, but you take a moment to warm up anyway: running your fingers over your pussy lips, tracing wide circles around your clitoris, just waking yourself up, getting used to the touch. Then you dip a finger inside yourself, getting it nice and wet, and start using it to touch your clit. Softly at first, just quick swipes across, then longer, slower. You're afraid to tell him you won't get far without something to get you in the mood, something hot to read or watch. But you soon realize that this clit routine is working better than expected: you can feel the orgasm building up faster than you'd have thought for the situation. It's like your pussy doesn't know the difference between fear and arousal. Anything that gets the blood pumping is good enough for me, sweet pea.
As you begin to moan, you find your mind straying unbidden to the way you felt last night, completely helpless, Master on top of you and inside you. You remember the way his cock swelled up when you struggled, the way his eyes looked as he rubbed your clit. You think of the dream, wonder what his cum would have tasted like. He takes you by the wrist and pulls your hand away gently, but before you can protest there's something else touching you, wet and soft and wonderful. It's his tongue, you think, but you don't look. Seeing him doing it would remind you where you are, and you don't want to be reminded. You just want to stare at the the ceiling and lavish in this sensation.
He does it exactly like you would have done it. Somehow, just by watching you for a few minutes, he's figured out exactly how you'd like to be touched. Only somehow he's doing it better. It's like he know what you want next before you do, understands your pussy better than you understand it yourself. As the pleasure mounts you begin to close your legs around his head, barely even noticing as you do it, but without stopping he presses them firmly back into the bed and holds them there. You arch your back, close your eyes, allow yourself to moan unabashedly.
And then he pulls back. The feeling lingers for a moment before falling back, settling down, leaving you twitching and whimpering. Operating on instinct you reach down to bring back the pleasure, but he catches your wrist. "From now on any pleasure you feel comes by my permission. You do not touch yourself without my say so. You do not cum until I feel you have earned it. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master."
"Would you like to earn it?"
The feeling has receded enough to let you think more clearly, and the shame is creeping in on you. Knowing how much you needed him in that moment, how you would have done anything for him to make you cum, let him hurt you or degrade you or humiliate you. You hate giving him that power; you know the more power you give him over you the harder it will be to escape.
You also know how desperately you want to cum.
"Please Master," you say, voice shaking. "Let me earn it. Let me earn the right to cum."
You can see in his eyes and in his cock how much he likes that. "Good girl."
Being Master's fuckdoll turns out to be more than just sitting around and waiting for him to pump some cum into you. Your entire life is to be dedicated to increasing his pleasure. After breakfast (a bowl of plain oatmeal that you eat with your hands, no spoon having been provided) Master shows you how he likes his shoulders rubbed after a long day at work. You take to it quickly, and you're surprised how satisfying it is to hear his appreciative groans as you dig your thumbs into his tense musculature. He puts his tongue on you again, this time laying you out on the living room sofa, letting you whimper and moan, but he still doesn't allow you to cum. The next thing he teaches you is how to greet guests when they come over: where to put their coats, how you're expected to touch them, if and when to suck their cocks. You make a few mistakes in the practice runs he makes you do—it's a lot to take in, and it gets harder to focus each time he brings you close to orgasm—but you do pretty well. When the lesson is over he lays you across his lap and spanks you mercilessly, his cock hardening again as you whine and cry and beg his forgiveness. When he's done he says, "only ten spanks is better than most girls get for that lesson. You're a natural learner." You have to remind yourself not to be proud of that accomplishment. And then he licks you again, and any thoughts in your head go out the window.
That's the pattern for the rest of the day: Master gives you a lesson in how to behave in his house. He spanks you for each mistake you made during the lesson. Then he brings you right up to the edge of orgasm. He teaches you how to mix his favorite drinks, and when he'll want one. He ties you up in a number of different ways, showing you the right positions to assume to make it easier for him. He shows you the different ways he likes you to sit with him in the living room as he reads a book or watches a movie: your favorite is when he stretches out on the couch and lets you cuddle his leg, your head in his lap. He pretends not to notice as you gently grind your clit against his bare calf, but the swelling of his cock betrays him. As long as you don't cum, you think, he'll let you get away with it.
Each time he stops you from cumming you get a little more desperate, a little more delirious. You make more mistakes as the day goes on, and he has to spank you more with each lesson, but a funny thing is starting to happen. Because spanking always immediately precedes his tongue on your clit, you find yourself starting to get wet as soon as his hand strikes your ass. It hurts, but you don't mind the pain—you kind of like it even. It's exhilarating, makes you feel warm and tingly, and you think it heightens the pleasure when he starts touching you more tenderly. By the end of the day he doesn't even have to spank you: you can feel yourself getting wet as soon as you're in position.
It doesn't escape Master's notice. He runs his fingers along your vulva, sending a delicious chill up your spine, and gives your head a scratch. Nobody's ever done that to you before, but since he started doing it this morning you can't get enough of it; you whimper with pleasure, melting into the couch and into his lap. "You're beginning to like your punishments," he says. "You're a good girl, good girls know how good it feels to get what you deserve. Just so long as you aren't acting up on purpose to make me spank you. If that starts happening I'll need to find another way to hurt you."
You shake your head vigorously. "No Master, never!" And you mean it; it wouldn't feel as good if you knew you hadn't earned it for one of your stupid mistakes.
"Good," says Master. "I think you're ready for your final lesson of the day." He moves you off his lap without giving you your spanking, which disappoints you a little, but when you get your face out of the sofa and turn around your heart leaps with sudden thrill. He has removed his boxers, letting his erection hang in front of you. "It's time you learned how to suck my cock."
Without you quite noticing, most of the shame has slipped away from you throughout the day, but you're reminded of it in this moment. You remember how much you wanted to taste him in your dream, how it felt disgusting and ecstatic and violating and thrilling all at the same time. You hate yourself for what you've already become; a day of orgasm denial and you're already his simpering little slut? Are you really that weak?
But what else should you do? Fight for your life, be punished over and over, live your life in a cage waiting until someone is ready to rape you? Isn't this way better? Why force yourself to be miserable when you can feel this good all the time? You can still work on your escape plan. It doesn't mean you can't enjoy yourself along the way. So you leave your shame behind; let it fall off you like a coat you've grown too big for. You get on your knees in front of Master. You look up into his cold eyes. And you begin to suck his cock.
He likes you to look at him. That's good, because you like looking at him too. You like to see his face react to each movement of your lips, each flick of your tongue. His head is dripping with precum—you realize today's activities have probably teased him just as much as they did you, and he didn't even get the release you did. It's warm and salty and just flavorful enough to tease you after the three meals of oatmeal you've had today. You feel yourself dripping with anticipation of what his cum will taste like. You feel insane. You don't know if you've ever been this horny in your life.
He likes it when you lick that strip of skin on the underside of his head, but it's too much all on its own. He shows you how to switch it up, swirling the head of his cock around your tongue, pushing up and down his shaft with your lips and cheeks and throat. He's not interested in shoving himself down your throat with every thrust—he likes throatfucking, he says, but that's not what this is about. This is about you servicing him, not him masturbating with you as a proxy. Still, he likes it when you take his whole cock down your throat, especially when you use your hand to play with his balls at the same time.
At some point he transitions to sitting down, and you to laying belly-down on the couch with your head bobbing in his lap. He lays his head back and moans softly, and you swell with pride at how good you're able to make him feel. His hand is on the back your head, not pushing you onto him, just running his hand through your hair, scratching your scalp with his manicured nails. It feels so good you almost can't keep sucking. You wonder if anyone has ever cum from having their head scratched.
He's getting close. You can feel it in the way his cock swells, the way his fingers become more frenetic on your scalp. You close your eyes and you're back in the dream, watching the bulge of cum speed toward you, dying to know what he tastes like. Then he's gripping you by the hair and lifting you off him, letting your cheek rest on his thigh. "That's enough," he says. "Or you'll make me cum."
"No!" you say, whipping your head up to face him. "I mean, I'm sorry Master, just...please, please may I taste your cum?"
He stares into your eyes, that appraising expression seeming to penetrate your mind and slither through your darkest secrets. He strokes your cheek. "Usually I prefer to cum in your pussy," he says. "But today I'll make an exception, because you've been such a good girl."
You almost weep with relief. "Thank you Master. Thank you so much." You return your attention to his cock, and he moans with renewed pleasure. You feel his weight shifting, and a moment later his hand is sliding between you and the couch, and his fingers are working your clit exactly how you like it. You moan into his cock and lift your ass up to give him better access.
It doesn't take either of you very long. He was seconds away from bursting a moment ago, and you've been in a state of sustained arousal since this morning. He tells you to finish him off with that move he likes, licking under the head, so you do just that. As his fingers quicken across your clit and his cock stiffens in your mouth, you suck your lips onto his head, stroke his shaft with your hand, and flick your tongue across that strip of skin as fast as you can. His fingers reach a fever pitch and you find your ass raising further in the air as your legs straighten, your toes splay out, your back arches. A wonderful, aching glow pours through your pussy and into your stomach and you close your eyes as his cock finally erupts into your mouth. Mouthful after mouthful of warm, thick cum shoots out of him, almost faster than you can swallow, and you feel the dream of this morning melting away. The dream was hot, sure, but it can't stand up to real thing. The texture of his cum on your lips and tongue. The pleasure radiating through your body as his fingers softly stroke you clit and labia. The way it feels to have him in your stomach, like a part of him is becoming a part of you. The feeling of his softening cock against your lips, his balls in your mouth as you run a sensual hand through the hair on his legs. You close your eyes, trying to capture this moment forever.
He lets you stay there as he turns on the TV. You don't understand the show he's watching—it's in a language you don't speak, and your brain is too fluttery at the moment to follow the subtitles—but it doesn't matter. The feeling of his skin against your skin, his cock against your cheek, his hand playing absentmindedly through your hair...it's perfect bliss. Just this morning you were thinking about how to fight back, how to escape. Why would you ever want to leave if you get to feel like this everyday? You'll probably feel differently in the morning, but for right now you allow the moment to take you, let yourself be carried away on a wave of warm, happy calm.
Some time later you are dimly aware of him lifting you, carrying you, placing you in your bed. You snuggle into your lovely sheets, only half awake, and the last thing you remember is him lowering his head between your legs to give you a good night kiss.
God, I’d love to control a girl with a wifi sex toy. I’d send her off to work after kissing her sweetly, ordering her to spread her legs and sliding in a toy. I’d have her suck on her butt plug, using her spit as lube before I push it slowly into her ass.
I’d want to flick her toy on low every so often, knowing she’ll feel it. She won’t squirm in her chair or start to look red. She’ll just be reminded of me, like a gentle finger against her pussy. Every so often, she’ll remember that someone else controls her tight, perfect cunt. Me.
As she’d walk home, she’d feel the toy vibrate more intensely. God, I want her to stumble through our door, cunt drool leaking down her work tights as she begs me to fuck her.
And then I’d turn it off. I bet she’d groan and moan but she’d bend over against the wall at the snap of my fingers. I’d pull down her skirt over her perfect ass, revealing her soaked panties. I’d flick the toy back on low again, laughing as her legs tremble in response. Fuck, only a pervy little bitch would get so wet at being teased all day with her ass stuffed like that.
I’d pull her panties to the side and slowly pull out her plug. It’d lay on the floor, forgotten while she shoves as much of my cock down her throat as she can. Lubing up my cock with pervy, gross throat spit for her stretched out asshole.
I’d push into her ass and turn on her toy. God, I can’t wait for her ass to clench around my cock while her cunt spasms around her toy. She’d lose her fucking mind while I collapse into her, my cock thrusting furiously inside her ass, splitting it, spreading it across me. I don’t know who’d cum first. Me in her impossibly tight ass, getting off to her brainless little fuckdoll body or her with every one of her holes stimulated. My cock in her ass, a toy in her cunt and fingers shoved down her throat and more fondling her tits.
I’d cum first just to turn off her toy and pull my cock out her freshly creampied asshole. I’d let her cum one day. But not that day.
2.1k | fluff, drink spiking
Did you just call Simon weak? The rest of the 141 didn’t like that
“Can I carry you?”
At the pub table, you almost spat the last gulp of your drink at the question. You turned to the source of the gruff voice, meeting the man’s chest before craning your neck up to his eyes. He had to be over 6 ft tall.
You set your glass down. “I’m sorry?”
“My mates are betting I can’t get anyone to piggyback.”
“And you picked me?”
He nodded at your top. “Skulls are sort of my lucky charm.”
You scoffed, looking past him at the other ladies in the room. “Are you serious? There are plenty who weigh far less.”
His brow rose. “Are you calling me weak?”
You took in the width of his shoulders, how his loose black shirt couldn’t hide the thickness of his biceps – the left one inked. He was handsome, rugged with the scar across his cheek, his short blond hair and light scruff, but his stare and bluntness made him beyond intimidating.
How could you get out of this situation with the least fuss?
“N- no.”
His eyes softened a touch. “May I? Please?”
Playing along and getting it over with should be the safest bet. “Okay... But-”
He turned his back and squatted slightly. “Hop on.”
“Wait- are you sure you can?”
“Hop on,” he repeated.
At that point, it was not your fault anymore if he ended up embarrassing himself. So you gripped his hard shoulders and did as told before he swiftly hooked his large hands under your jean-clad thighs. He didn’t grunt or strain when he bounced you to position and straightened up. As if you weighed nothing, which was a feeling you never thought you’d experience.
You had to give it to him - his strength was impressive. You chuckled to yourself, seeing the top of everyone’s head amused you. Across the pub, the table of three men grinned at the massive stranger. The one with the mohawk was very much entertained as he gave him thumbs up.
It was then that Simon groaned, because his team was embarrassing the hell out of him. That, and he finally got to feel how soft and warm you were pressed up against him. A little creepy, but a man was allowed to fantasise about a birdie he’d been eyeing, right?
“That’s all, yeah? You just have to carry-”
He stepped towards the bar, making you latch onto him.
“Oh! Where are you going?
“I’m getting you a drink.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Please, I insist.” When he flagged the barman down, you held on tighter. “It’s the least I can offer for getting you involved.”
You laughed, your breath warm against his ear. “Are you going to set me down or am I having my drink on your back?”
“Don’t give me ideas.” He chuckled as he lowered you to your feet.
He leaned against the bar, arm folded as he stared at you on the stool, downing your shot before looking at yourself on your selfie cam.
“Would you… like something as well?” you asked after you tucked your phone back in your pocket.
He shook his head.
“Okay. Well, thanks for he drink. You could get back to your mates if you want.”
“I’m Simon,” he mustered instead.
“Hi.” You shifted in your seat. “Is something the matter?”
“No.” He frowned. “Why are you asking?”
“It’s just you’ve been staring, and there’s nothing on my face. I checked.”
Bloody hell, could he be any more awkward? He just wanted to ask why you were alone without being weird about it.
He looked away. “I didn’t mean to.” You make me stupid. It didn’t help that your previous drink had tinted your lips, looking even more kissable up close.
“I think your mates want you back though.” You chuckled, nodding at his table.
When he turned to them, they immediately busied themselves with their drinks, averting their gazes.
“They’re a nosy bunch, they are.” He inched closer to you. “The one in the beanie, that’s our captain. The other two are my sergeants.”
“You’re the lieutenant?”
He hummed. “The one with the mohawk is the prankster. He’s a bad influence. He’ll talk you into doing anything.”
“He put you up to this then?”
He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips.
As if on cue, Soap looked up with an uncontained grin, only to look back down when he realised eyes were on him.
”Seems like he can’t wait to say hi.” He swiftly picked you up off your seat, bridal-style. “Is this enough to show you weigh nothin’?” he asked, fighting the urge to grab a handful of your soft thigh and waist.
“Oh- oh dear!” You laughed, arm wrapping around his neck, pretty fingers grasping his bicep. “Wait, wait, put me down!”
When you were back on your feet, you pulled your phone out of your pocket. “Sorry, I’m actually meeting someone. He’s almost here.”
So that was why you were alone. You were waiting for someone. Disappointment anchored at the bottom of his chest.
“Right. Okay.”
You smiled. “Thanks for the drink, Simon. I’ll see you around, yeah?”
He grunted and you headed to the end of the bar. He stood umoving for another second before retreating to his table like a kicked puppy.
“L.T., wha’ happened? She was havin’ so much fun!” Soap shot as soon as Simon took his seat next to him.
“She’s meetin’ someone,” he said quietly.
“Aww… Sorry, Ghost,” Gaz said. “But hey, she let you carry her!”
With your back to him, you looked at your phone whenever a man walked in.
Huh, first date?
You flagged down some other blond man who walked over to you with a smile. The barman took your order before you chatted with him with a polite smile, keeping a respectable distance between the two of you.
Simon was in no place to watch and invade your privacy – he really should look away. But what was it that simmered in him when the bloke scooted closer, his arm along the back of your chair?
He laughed, pointing at something on the TV. You looked up, and your hand deftly covered your drink, like an instinct.
He smirked. Smart girl.
“I know she’s with someone, but I can tell she likes you more,” Price said, and Simon finally tore his gaze away from you.
“Ye should fight ‘im, L.T. He dinnae stand a fuckin’ chance.”
“You can knock him out with a slap,” Gaz quipped.
He chuckled, blatantly looking over Price to you again. “Rather just look.” While it wasn’t for him, at least he could watch your pretty smile from here and quench his thirst a bit.
With the bloke’s drink in hand, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, his other hand inching to your covered drink now. He tipped his glass over you, causing you to jump and grab serviettes to dab yourself with. Just as fast, his fisted hand opened over your drink before helping you.
“No fucking way,” Simon said out loud.
“What?” Gaz followed his line of sight.
He marched over, yanking the man around by the shoulder. “What the bloody hell did you just do?”
He stumbled off his seat from the force, making the lieutenant tower over him even more. “What? Who- Do you know him?” He turned to you.
His finger jabbed the man’s chest. “What. The. Fuck. Did you put in her drink?”
“Nothing! What are you accusing me of?”
Simon didn’t miss the crack in the man’s voice. He raised your drink to the man’s face, a tiny white tablet swaying at the bottom of the glass. “Empty your pockets.”
“Simon, what’s…”
“I’m not repeating myself.”
The man fished out his phone, wallet and keys with trembling hands.
“That’s not all.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s nothing else, mate!” he said exasperatedly.
Simon’s patience ran dry. He patted his front pocket, hand bumping over something. “You need to see this,” he said quietly to you.
You hesitantly stuck your hand in the man’s left pocket, coming up with a bag of white tablets.
The man smacked the bag out of your hand. “You planted that, you slag!”
“If you didn’t do anything, drink it.” He spat, holding out your drink to him, now cloudy and fizzing.
He stared at the glass. “Fuck you,” he said, pushing it onto Simon’s chest before dashing out of the pub.
“Did he…”
“The fuck was that, Simon?” Price questioned from behind him.
“Fucking piece of shit spiked her drink.”
Price turned to you, a hand on your shoulder. “You got his name and number, love?”
“Yes.” You blinked. ”Yes, his number and dating profile.”
“I’m sending the coppas his way.” He picked up the evidence on the ground with a serviette. “Simon, get the details and make sure she gets home safe,” he said before approaching the barman.
You dried his ruined shirt with a wad of serviette. “I can’t even begin to thank you for your help, Simon. Really, thank you so much. I wouldn’t have-”
“You did good.” He squeezed your hand over his chest. “You covered your glass when you weren’t looking, but spilling his drink on you was something else.”
When you looked up at him with wide eyes, he dropped your hand.
“Would you like me to send you home?”
“I don’t want to trouble you. I don’t even live nearby.”
“Would you let me, if I want to?”
There was a pause before you smiled. “I think I’d like that, actually.”
When he grabbed his jacket from the table, Soap patted him on the back.
“Good catch, L.T. What a fuckin’ disgrace, the lad.”
“Have fun, Ghost,” Gaz teased.
Outside the pub where the streets were quieter, you forwarded the profile and chat screenshots of the man from your group chat to Simon.
“Can’t be too cautious. I’m not surprised if that’s not even his name honestly.” You shrugged, stuffing your phone back in your pocket. “I knew it was dodgy he insisted on meeting here when I said I’d rather somewhere in the middle, in broad daylight. That, and he was half an hour late too!”
It was disheartening to know this was the reality of dating, that all sorts of people lurked online, sometimes not with the best intentions. He’d show you his ID just to prove he wasn’t a creep, just someone smitten with a staring problem if any.
“If it was me, I’d have taken you anywhere you wanted.”
You chuckled.
“On my back too, if you prefer. I think you quite enjoyed that.”
“I did, actually,” you teased. “Is it a bad time to tell you I’m starving?”
“Yeah? That’s good news, because I’m always hungry. A kebab sounds about right at this hour.”
“Extra chips?”
“Extra chips,” he affirmed.
“You know what, I think this is my sign.” You pulled out your phone again, deleting an app. “Don’t think online dating was ever my thing.”
Is a stranger at a pub who shamelessly stares at you more your thing?
“Going out with someone who offers to carry me around is more like it.”
He bit back a smile. “So? Another ride on my back?”
You chuckled. “Next time,” you said, taking his arm instead.
As much as he enjoyed your touch, he couldn’t do with your fingers over his jacket. He needed to feel you. When he held your hand in his, you smiled up at him.
Simon had to thank his team for painstakingly convincing the stubborn lieutenant to approach the lady he’d been staring at. You didn’t have to know there was no bet, that asking to carry you was his own idea, an outrageous excuse to talk to you. But he wouldn’t complain if he ended up helping you, taking you for a little supper and even got to send you home.
“When’s next time?” he asked at your door, squeezing your hand.
You really shouldn’t have said it, because he was going to make sure there would be one. It had become a goal to show you how you deserved to be treated on a date.
“Is tomorrow too soon?”
“Right now isn’t even too soon.”
You laughed, pulling him down by the shoulder to meet your lips.
Neighbour Ghost AU if he still had his family
Masterlist
For @glitterypirateduck ‘s Ghost Challenge :D check out her page for fic recs!
You forgot to change your address when you moved flats. He didn’t think people still sent letters—a nasty letter from an ex, no less, complete with illicit photos of yourself in compromising positions, and threats to spread them if you don’t come back to him. John does the proper thing and takes the rest of the misplaced post down to the landlord to forward on to your new address (and nicks that little tidbit for himself, along with the mention of how sweet you were; “good little tenant, too; was always fixing things so I didn’t have to. Really loved that flat of hers.”).
The letters aren’t doing the job so your ex starts calling you at work, resulting in your termination. Your friends encourage you to go back to bartending (“you used to love it!” “You’ve still got the looks for it!” “All you have to do is look pretty and make drinks—how hard can it be?”) and you do, begrudgingly. It’s not terrible, though. You settle back into the late nights and inconsistent schedule well enough.
There’s one regular—a little older; a little more… attentive—that’s branded his name into the cracked faux-leather barstool near the till during your shifts. Who always has a kind smile and no shortage of conversation for you between the leering gazes and filthy comments the boys from Uni toss over the bar in hopes of reeling you across the street and into their beds. You’ve taken to spending your breaks with him; tucked into the corner booth on slower nights, and leant up against the paint-plastered brick in the alley out back when the air is too hot and thick, bar packed with jerseys and jocks. He smokes, occasionally. Covers the stench of rubbish and piss with the whisper of tobacco and vanilla that clings to him, warm and sweet.
He’s there when your ex eventually finds out what bar you’re working at. See’s the way you lock up, hand gripping the tumbler full of scotch you’ve poured him hard enough to crack. He’s there when your manager can’t—won’t—send you home, leaving nothing between yourself and the embodiment of your fears but the chipping lacquer of the well-worn bartop.
He isn’t, however, there for your break. You don’t sit with him or abscond to the alley, hiding out instead in the kitchens. But if anyone minded the grainy feed on the back door camera in the office, they’d see him there, adding a fresh smattering of red to the graffitied walls.
He is there when you return—all night. Doesn’t leave his post at the bar, watching how you tremble through the remainder of your shift, getting orders wrong and dropping glassware. He’s there until close, waiting outside for you to lock up, and draping the leather bomber that smells like tobacco and vanilla over your shoulders as he guides you to his car.
He’s taking you home. Not to that shifty little place you let month-to-month; home. To the flat where creased, sticky photos of you, handcuffed to the bed his now sits in place of, are tucked away in his nightstand.
Walking into class I nervously looked over my glasses to my teacher who stood behind his desk, tapping his fingers against it. Time stood still for a moment as his head turned towards me and his eyes peered through my lenses all while mine scanned his strong hands, traveling up his muscular arms and finally landing on his face. "I'm glad you could finally join us today..", he said, in a stern voice. I felt the spotlight on me as all eyes in the class seemed to watch my every move while I scattered to my desk. He cleared his throat and everyone turned their attention back to him, though I noticed he never took his eyes off of me. I couldn't get rid of this feeling that he had x-ray vision and could see right through my clothes so I was awkwardly fumbling with my sweater.
Throughout the lecture I continued scanning his body, noticing the indent of his wedding ring.. but no ring to be seen. It was certainly odd but it got me thinking; maybe they were in a fight, separated, or perhaps he had some nefarious plans. The thoughts that flowed through my head had me pressing my knees together in anticipation. I sat through the entire class, toying with my sweater, glasses, and the pages of my book while his eyes landed on me every minute, specifically my boobs. Due to the keyhole in my top, my double D breasts were clearly visible.. why did I decide to wear this to school? Because it was cute, but is it really worth all the attention?
It seemed like forever when the bell rang, indicating it was time to switch to the next class. I finally had a break from the piercing eyes of my teacher, at least for a couple hours until we had to meet again for my last class of the day. Everything went smoothly, though I could feel his eyes on me every time I would pass him in the hallway. The entire day I would receive envious glances from the girls who craved his eyes on them, it was slightly unnerving as I'm not used to this much attention.
As everyone left for the day he called me up to his desk, his towering figure standing tall and assertive. He waited until the last person left before he spoke, leaning in close and making me feel even smaller than I already was. "You'll be staying here with me, understood?" I questioned him on why as he walked towards the classroom door, locking it as he closed it. "For one, you broke the dress code... you should know your top is way too revealing." I stood nervously against his desk as he came back over to me. I gulped as his eyes traveled from my face down to my chest where my boobs were poking out from the keyhole in my sweater. He lifted his finger to the hole and hooked it, his finger slightly brushing between my tits before he pulled the fabric towards himself. "Although I usually prefer how you dress modestly, this was... might I say... a nice change." he leaned in further, his other hand landing against the desk behind me and gently knocking over the picture frame of his wife.
My face flushed red while I leaned myself back, trying to create some distance between our faces though he continued to move in closer. I was speechless, I was stunned, I couldn't think of anything but dirty thoughts, and it was all because of him. "I see how you look at me with your pretty eyes... and I've craved you for so long, my pet. Today was just the straw that broke the camel's back." he wrapped his arm around my waist and pressed himself into me. I could feel his hard cock through his pants and I melted into him in an instant.
He began unbuckling his belt and sliding it out through his belt loops. "Get on your knees for me, little lamb." I did so with a slight bit of nervous hesitation and he moved himself so I was straddling his shoe. He looped the belt around my neck and used it as a leash, pulling on it as he told me to rub against him. I stared up at him with a red face as I began rubbing my soft cunt against his leather shoe. He smirked down at me when I started moaning and grinding faster on him. With a chuckle he said, "That's a good girl.. show me how much you need me.." I began grinding harder against him, holding onto his leg for support. I wanted him to see how much I've been craving him. When my moans became louder he pulled me up off of his foot by the belt wrapped around my neck. "Some teachers are still here so you'll have to remain quiet. We wouldn't want anyone hearing you having fun with me, would we?" I quickly shook my head but he pulled me up to meet his face anyway.
My mouth dried up and I could barely speak as he turned me around and bent me over his desk. "W-Wait..." I tried protesting though he ignored me and lifted my skirt to reveal the pretty blue panties underneath. He ran his hand over my crotch, putting pressure against my clit through the fabric of my panties. "Already so wet... you must've been waiting too long for this, my pet." I whimpered at his touch and nodded while forcing his hand harder against my soft cunt.
He continued rubbing on my clit while his other hand positioned my arms crossed behind my back. I was too caught up in the moment to notice he was now wrapping his belt around my arms and restraining them together, leaving enough of the belt for him to hold onto. He let out a low chuckle and undid his pants, pressing and rubbing his tented boxers against me. Soft moaning from the both of us filled the classroom as he was grinding himself into me. "Good girl... such a good student."
He slipped my panties down to my thighs and did the same to his boxers. I hung my head low, trying to hide the embarrassment by pressing my face against his desk. "Aww, don't be shy, lamb... you've got such a pretty pussy." he whispered, lifting me back towards him slightly with the belt. He spit on my hole and used his cock to slide the spit up and down my cunt. It felt so degrading being spit on like that but his words were so sweet. "I'll be gentle, sweetheart... I know how sensitive little girls like you can be." He pushed the tip of his cock inside me after spitting on it although there was already enough of my juices that it slid in a little further, making my body jolt forward. He rubbed my ass soothingly while tugging on the belt to pull me back. "I'm sorry, I'm trying to be easy... it's just that I didn't know how wet you really were." I slowly pushed myself back into him and tried to fit his entire cock in me, to no avail. "I-It's okay... I've just never been with someone so big." I moaned, the tip of his cock hitting my cervix even though he still had an inch or two out of me.
He slowly moved himself in and out, coating almost his entire cock in my wetness. "Shit.. you feel soo much better than my wife. I want to breed you." I shook my head as I told him I wasn't on birth control but he didn't seem to care as he thrust faster, pushing his cock deeper and deeper inside of me. I started getting a little too loud so he yanked me back by the belt without stopping his thrusting. "Remember, little lamb, stay quiet." I nodded and bit on my lip, trying to hold back my moans. The sound of his thighs slapping against my ass continued echoing louder into the room as he began pounding ravenously into me, savoring every inch of his cock sliding in and out of me. He slammed himself deep inside of me as his cock throbbed, letting out the baby batter I once wished to taste. "Mmm... What if I get pregnant..?", I groaned while he thrust into me a few more times before pulling out and spreading my pussy lips open, watching his own cum fall into my panties.
He slipped my panties back up my legs and fixed himself, taking the belt off my neck and placing a gentle kiss on my cheek. "Don't worry, my pet... I'll take very good care of you." He led me out the door and watched me walk pridefully out of the school to my house with his cum still dripping into my panties. Every day after school we would meet again in his classroom, our moans filling the room, and eventually he would take me home while his wife and kids were gone. I was very nervous to bring up my late period although he seemed excited, soon divorcing his wife and getting a place of his own where he asked me to live with him. Still, during my pregnancy, he never stopped filling me with loads of his cum.
