this blog contains posts fetishizing self harm, food control and starvation, trauma, gore and suicide no consistent trigger warnings
It also contains... Many genuine posts about trauma. So like. If you just want to jerk off without interruptions of someone having a serious conversations and vague posts... This might not be for u.
This is a porn blog â ïž minors leave
It also contains misogyny, detrans, dyke breaking, fag breaking if i find any, and generally politically ill advised posts. I don't think everyone I'm taking them from only holds them as a fantasy either, theres been too many call outs for genuine abusers on here. I don't generally care but you are responsible for yourself and who you speak to.
DMs are closed and asks often take a while. Feel free to send them though I will get to them if your blog isn't deleted beforehand (if that's likely maybe send them on anon I've lost a few hot ones this way v-v)
We're a system in a disabled trans male body. It pronouns are hot but we're pronoun neutral here.
Free Falastin đ€ Support Sex Workers đ€ Pro Self Med HRT (yes including minors, the kids deserve to live too)
Kicking a boy in the gut over and over till he's choking for breath, heaving over on himself, only to stick a strap down his throat and force him to suck in air through a broken nose
I wish I could close fisted hit him. For now I'm only allowed to slap but I wanna slam my fist into his cheek so hard it makes him see stars for a sec. I want to hit him so hard he flinches at me lifting my arm. I want him to think twice the next time he talks back to me, because I just might hit him again.
Tell us about the one that go through 7 nights of sleep deprivation
We spent a week together. It was a hookup that was to go on multiple nights. We started on a Saturday and went till Sunday. Saturday night I spent time playing with her decorating her body as I saw fit. I kept her up. Sunday rolled around we spent some time outside I let her drive while I got some shut eye. Sunday was the same as Saturday but I intensified my hits made it hurt more. The next day we both went to college I got free before her. I went over to her place and slept.
Once she was home I made her some strong coffee it was just a load of coffee mixed with sugar in hot water and I encouraged her to drink it all. Using the lil energy boost the coffee provided to keep her up and play with her there were times she would start dozing off and a punch or slap would wake her right up. This was the third night without sleep the next day it was back to school. When she came back this time she was irritated, mouthy, disoriented and hell bent on getting some sleep but I made sure that didn't happen I tied her hands behind her back and put a rope around her neck tying it to the door handle. The rope was so short she couldn't stand nor sit comfortably in this awkward half bent stress position. I kept her like that for a few hours while I got some sleep. When I was up I was back to using her but by that time she was practically falling on her face so I kept her up by making sure she kept standing to make sure she didn't sit even for a second. The next day was back to school and she came home crying. Complaining how it was all a fog and she kept dozing off in class but the teachers kept waking her up and she didn't get more than 10 mins of shut eye.
She complained of fatigue how her limbs were on fire from exhaustion and how her legs couldn't carry her and I found amusement in her pain so I tied her up in a stress position again only to sleep right in front of her this time. I didn't sleep long before I woke up to loud sobs and pleading she begged me for a chair or some relief and that cute lil face distorted in pain I only wanted more. I took my lighter lit it and started sticking it into random sensitive places like under her tit inner thighs as she jumped around trying to run. I put her in different positions that night not giving her more than 15 mins sitting breaks. Wednesday morning she was too shit and disoriented to go to school so I let her stay home. I myself was pretty tired from toying with her and needed to sleep myself so I tied her up in her closet standing neck attached to a hook to hang clothes practically suffocating her if she tried to sleep. And that day I slept till sundown when I was up she had made a mess of herself. Lost control of her bladder at some point the tears were streaming and incoherent nonsense was all she muttered I asked her if she remembered what her safeword was she repeated it to me and I knew to carry on. I took her out of the closet hosed her down and made her lick her mess clean or what was left of it. I dragged her to the kitchen and ordered her to cook for me at this point major exhaustion was setting in. Her hands were shaky she wasn't walking straight so I drowned her in praise. I told her how much of a good girl she was being of me and how proud I was for all her achievements. That got to her she steadied herself and started talking to herself and started encouraging herself. She cooked me an omelette and it was shit but I pretended to like it. I put on a movie and had her warm me while my hands were wrapped around her. Many times in the movie I got so engrossed she got to close her eyes but never more than a few mins. By the time the sun was up I was feeling tired so I dragged her back to the closet as she tried to fight, scream and beg for mercy hoping maybe something would persuade me to let her sleep and I actually considered it because staying up with her was taking a toll on me too. But I decided against it and put her in the closet again. I asked her again if she wanted to end it she shook her head in defiance and stepped in.
And off to bed I went when I woke up there was a mess again and the sobbing I hosed her down again made her lick it clean this time the mess was fresh no more than an hour old. After that she said her safe word to slow down so I allowed her to sleep for 6 hours before waking her up with my lighter to carry on with our plan. With lil energy in her I used her holes teasing her playing with her lil funny button bringing her close to edges but never letting her go over and once I had given her enough hope of some relief I stopped abruptly and tied her to the door handle once again and the sobbing started before I was even in bed. The 6 hours was not enough to offset the fatigue and her limbs and joints were back on fire. And I fell asleep to the music of her sobs.
I woke up to her perched in a position to offer some support to her legs this was Friday night her last night if she could make it. No mess this time much to my disappointment I asked again if she wanted to continue she nodded yes and said one word "Bathroom" and that sent all kinds of evil ideas in my head I untied her and dragged her to her study table bent her over and I started ramming into her shitter as I squeezed her sides and as I expected she ended up pissing herself. She sobbed in humiliation and I rejoiced as she gave me a tongue bath to clean up her mess. After hosing her down I made myself some food I ate at the table as she kneeled beside me, every now and then tossing a piece for her to catch or fetch. Once I was done I had her lie down as I dripped hot wax on her and she somehow managed to fall asleep even then but a kick woke her right back up. We played fetch with her hairbrush for a bit before I finally undid her restraints to let her sleep.
I took some artistic liberation while telling this tale keep that in mind.
i would let you keep me in a cage under your bed and spray me with a hose and kick me in the ribs every morning and night if you told me every once in a while that i was very very special and that you love me but you have to tell me you love me that's part of the deal okay? okay yayyy :)
"did you really think it mattered?" he kicks you in the ribs and you scream. If anyone ever told you that you get used to it or that it gets better, they lied. Every kick hurts worse than the one before it. Your shaky breaths hurt too at this point.
"It doesn't matter that you cleaned everything. It doesn't matter that you hit the weight goal. It doesn't matter that you greeted in position. I hit you when I want to hit you. Is that clear?" You nod frantically and it makes your vision swim. He hit your head against floor when you asked why, and it's still making you dizzy and sick.
"Position!" he commands and you scramble onto your knees, legs spread, hands behind your head, chest pushed out. "today I'm in the mood to hurt you. And I don't want to hear a single word of protest. Remember your fucking place." You swallow, it's gonna be a long night.
she actually wants you to hit her. if she says ânoâ or âplease stopâ or âi donât want thisâ sheâs actually just trying to make your dick throb so you lose control and beat her worse. you canât lose control, you have to remind her youâre doing this because you want it, not because she does. put your hand on her mouth to shut her up and hit her again. again. again. again. you want this. again.
I want you to undress and sit on my lap, your back to my chest. I remain fully clothed. You feel the rough denim of my jeans, the soft layers of my shirt and t-shirt against your skin. My hands are sheathed in surgical latex gloves.Â
My left hand rests on your throat. Not squeezingâjust a guidance, pulling you back until you lean against me, your weight a solid, comfortable pressure against my front.Â
In my right hand, I hold a scalpel.Â
I begin on your shoulder. The blade's tip kisses your skin, then a sharp, swift strokeâa scarlet line blooms on the pale canvas. You lie relaxed against me, perfectly still, not even a flinch. I feel the warmth of your body seeping through my clothes. Your hair is a soft tickle against my neck. The blood doesn't even have time to bead before I add another line beside the first, a twin in every way.Â
I move lower, towards the bend of your elbow. The lines begin to form abstract patterns. Not all are straight. The curved ones I carve with slow, meticulous care, feeling the slight resistance of your skin. You are the perfect canvas, sitting placidly, not a single fidget. Your gaze is locked on the movement of the steel, and mine is locked on you.Â
But a restlessness is kindling in me. I can't tear my eyes away from the vibrant crimson lines. My heart begins to beat a little faster, a dull, thickening throb in my ears. My mouth floods with saliva. I have to swallow, thickly. I want⊠no, I need to focus. I had a plan. A design.Â
Scarlet droplets now gather and slowly trickle down as I reach your forearm. I hold your wrist, feeling the delicate bones. The blue lines of your veins are like roots under marble. I make a small, precise incision over one. A dark, rich red blossoms instantly against the blue.Â
Shallow, straight cuts running in parallel now adorn your side, the thin skin stretched over your ribs. My hand finds your waist, though there's no need to hold youâyou are not moving. Your skin is hot. Fine, delicate lines radiate from the center of your chest, a bloody sunburst.Â
When I move to your thigh, I have to bend my head lower, practically burying my face in your hair to see. I inhale deeply. Your scentâsoap, skin, youâwreathes around the sharp notes of antiseptic, the sterile smell of latex, and the thick, coppery perfume of blood. You can feel what this is doing to me. Oh, sitting on my lap like this, you must feel it very clearly.Â
âŠI had a plan. What was it? It's gone. Now I am just carving. One deep, straight line after another into the soft flesh of your thighs, watching them well up, overflow, and run in rivulets. I feel the frantic flutter of your heart against my back. I press the scalpel's point to your skin and begin to cutâdeep, but dragging the instrument with an agonizing, sensual slowness. Your breath hitches, sharp in my ear; I feel the fine tremor that runs through you.Â
I finish the cut.Â
And then I sink the blade back into the fresh, gaping wound. One sharp, decisive, deepening motion.Â
You jolt against me, and the quiet moan is torn from my throat.Â
The scalpel is tossed aside. I pull you tight against me with both hands, your blood a slick, warm paint on my clothes. I don't give a damn. My hands roam your body in a frantic, mapping chaos, smearing the blood, claiming every inch. Through the thin latex, I feel every detailâthe heat of your skin, the rough landscape of old scars, the firmness of muscle, the smooth curve of your shoulders, the sharp, elegant lines of your collarbones. And yet, itâs a maddening barrier. It muffles you, alters you. This makes me want to feel you even more.
My palm cups your cheek, my thumb carefully traces the bow of your lips, painting them a brutal, beautiful red. Your tongue darts out, a pale pink flash, tasting me, tasting yourself.Â
I drag my gloved nails down your arm, gripping your forearm like a vise. They are sharp, and you feel the pressure even through the barrier. I do it with force, catching and deliberately pulling at the edges of the cuts. A soundâa quiet, sharp, shattered sighâescapes your lips. I do it again. And again. Up and down, a vicious rhythm, trying to stretch the wounds wider, wanting to see more of you.Â
I need to feel you. Now. No more barriers. I lift you slightly, my hands a grip on your waist, and shift lower. I fumble with my belt, my fly, my hands clumsy and desperate. My hand, slick with your blood from your thigh, strokes myself, coating my length in youâmy paint, my desire. Who says blood can't be a lubricant? And I push into you.Â
It's not without effort, a tight resistance, but who cares? I pull you down, and your body has no choice but to yield, to open, to take me in.Â
We both freeze, suspended for a single moment. A sharp, shared inhale. Adjusting. Then I take your bleeding wrist and bring it to my lips.Â
Your taste.Â
Your intoxicating, dizzying, essential taste.Â
Your blood on my tongue.Â
I am so lost. I greedily lick it from your skin. I kiss your wounds. Losing myself more and more, unable to tear myself away from you.Â
You feel my arousal inside you, hard, twitching, straining desperately.Â
My hands lock onto your hips. My fingers find the deep cuts there, and dig in, burying into your wounds. I lift you and bring you down. Up. And down. Up. And down. A savage, pounding rhythm.Â
And the man in me recedes to let the beast take the reins. I stop thinking. I stop remembering. There is only this: the heat, the scent, the taste, the give of your flesh. And you and I are one.Â
He found you in the bedroom, face down on the mattress. You hadn't even bothered to lift your head.
You hear the rustle of clothes. Of course, he needs to change; he just got home. You hope that afterward, he'll just go about his business and leave you alone. But the bed dips under his weight as he sits on the edge beside you. A hand lands on your ass, squeezing it pointedly through your sleep shorts.
âWhy are you dressed?â he asks. Right. You're breaking the rules. Stupid, meaningless rules.
You try to blindly push his hand away.
âNot now,â you mumble into the sheets.
Your own voice sounds disgustingly hoarse. Youâve always hated it, but after hours of sobbing, it's even worse.
He brushes your hand aside.
âWhy. Are. You. Dressed?â he repeats. Slowly, one word at a time. In that cold, stern tone you sometimes like, but not now. You thought you'd cried all the tears you had, but something vile and prickly is stirring in your chest again.
He doesn't care that you feel like shit. No one does. As usual.
You clench your jaw tighter, trying to force the feeling down. Then you push yourself up on an elbow and turn your head to look him in the eye. You know you look a messâtear-streaked face, snot, red eyes⊠But fuck it. Let him look. His sex toy isn't very sexy today.
He does look. His gaze locks onto your face, scanning every centimeter. You wanted to say something cutting, but all your resolve instantly evaporates. Instead, you just sigh tiredly and answer:
âJust⊠can you not touch me today, please?â
It sounds pathetic.
âNo,â he replies curtly, with a smile, and his hand returns to your ass possessively. The smile doesn't reach his eyes. They're watching you with greed. âI want you now.â
He's only wearing his jeans. You feel his hands hook the waistband of your shorts and underwear and tug them down.
You twist around, grabbing his wrist again, trying to curl into a ball.
âI don't want it now,â you hiss. This time, less pathetic. Like an angry cat.
He doesn't even consider letting go, just lazily hooks a finger through the ring of your collar and gives it a slight tug.
âFree use,â he reminds you. âAnytime. You belong to me. You agreed to this.â
âAhhh fuck that!â you snap, your patience finally running out.
You are too exhausted to think too hard about what you're doing. You just twist and sink your teeth into his arm. You get a sharp jab in the stomach for it. You flail your fists, hitting anything you can reach, trying to scratch. Your nail accidentally catches on something on his jeans, and a sharp pain shoots through your finger, but you ignore it. You're fighting back.
As always, it's useless. You're in different weight classes, as he likes to remind youâin word and in practice. You end up on your stomach again, with him on top of you, your arm twisted behind your back to the point of pain.
âTsk, tsk, tsk. We'll have to fix that,â he says thoughtfully, and you feel a touch on that very finger that hurts. Seems you broke your nail down to the quick.
âRed!â you spit out hurriedly. Though without much hope.
He doesn't let go.
âDid you forget what safewords are for?â he asks with feigned surprise. âThis isn't a scene. I'm just going to help you so you don't hurt yourself further⊠You'll have to bear with it a little, but it's your own faultâŠâ
You barely have time to clamp your teeth down on the sheet before the torn piece of nail is ripped from the quick in one sharp motion. A nasty, sharp pain. The kind you don't like. Tears well up in your eyes again, and you whimper.
âThere now,â he notes with satisfaction. âStop resisting, or something even worse might happen to you⊠Will you be good?â
You've known him long enough to hear the threat in those words and take it seriously. Your choked 'Mhm' is enough for him. He releases your arm and gets up. He strips off your remaining clothes and tosses them somewhere on the floor. His hands grab your hips and pull you up, positioning you on your knees, so your ass is in the air. You hear the clink of a belt buckle, the sound of a zipper being undone. The click of a lube bottle opening.
No foreplay. He just positions himself behind you and pulls you onto his cock. Not in one smooth motion, of courseâyour size difference makes it somewhat difficultâbut without ceremony.
Like a fleshlight, your brain supplies.
It hurts, and it stings, and it hurts, and it stings, andâŠ
âStill so tight,â he chuckles, and starts to move.
You whimper again. Once again, you're just being used. You're always just being used. But you feel that thought, along with the pain, along with the sensation of his cock stretching your ass, starting to arouse you. As always.
âTell me why you were crying,â he says. Not asks. Demands.
What does it matter? Why not tell him. Why not tell him while he's fucking you in the ass. You have nothing left to lose.
âJust thinking about how worthless I am,â you force out. You try to sound casual, but your throat tightens again.
âOh, yeah?â he drawls, not stopping thrusting into you. âIn what way, exactly?â
You swallow with difficultyâand start talking. Everything. Literally everything. It can't get any more humiliating than it already is. You're just a walking bundle of problems. Unattractive. Defective. Worse than everyone. The one whoâs not enough. The one who's always abandoned, always cheated on, always used. Sometimes you manage to forget, to deceive yourself for a while, but it's always right there. Something always reminds you. A carelessly dropped phrase, a random memory, any fucking little thingâŠ
âAnd you're just using me, aren't you?â your tears are dripping onto the sheet. âJust⊠fucking me, and then you'll dump me. I'm not good for anything else anyway.â
You sob, your body shudders and clenchesâand clenches around his cock too. He grunts and starts moving even more sharply, his fingers digging into your hips, moving your ass back and forth, sheathing you on his length.
âKeep going, baby, I'm close,â he moans.
You turn your head and look back at him over your shoulder. A handsome face, showing pure lust. A heavy gaze, parted lips, beads of sweat on his foreheadâŠ
What did you expect to see there? What did you wish was there?
âYou make me wanna die,â you giggle through tears, through your own matching lust, the shaking, the tensionâŠ
âBut why? What's wrong now, sweetheart? You came to me yourself, remember?â he purrs in response, sensually, without a trace of sympathy. Accompanied by the sound of flesh slapping against flesh.
Something inside you seems to crack.
âI just wanted you to love me!â you almost yells desperately in a final attempt to get through to him. Casting the last remnants of pride aside.
You stare at him point-blank, from below, and he looks back at you, even stopping his movement. For a moment, you almost believe he heard you.
Until a cruel smile blooms on his lips, until he reaches for you, grabs your collar, and pulls you towards him, forcing you into a kneeling upright position. He turns your head to the side to see your face, and says:
âYou know what I want? I want to cum inside you right now.â
He stares at you greedily.
The crack grows, widens, and something inside shatters, explodes into a million pieces, and he sees it.
And you can physically feel how that only turns him on even more.
He shoves you in the back, and you fall onto your elbows.
He's rutting into you violently, so fast you can't take it anymore. Your body reaches its climax almost simultaneously with his; you scream into the sheets, already soaked with your tears and drool. You feel him cumâdeep inside you.
But he doesn't stop. You know this isn't over yet.
There's not a single thought left in your head.
âŠ
You hear him leave the room. You hear the door close. Then it opens. You feel your finger being wiped with antiseptic and bandaged. You hiss softly but don't otherwise react. You hear him leave again. You hear the kettle boiling in the kitchen. You hear him walking back and forth through the apartment. Talking to someone on the phone.
You vaguely recall that yesterday you were hurt by how he was talking to someone else⊠Maybe. Your memory fails you like this all the time.
A strange thought comes to you: if you had something like a pencil within reach, you'd pierce both your eardrums just to not hear anything. But you simply don't have the energy to get up and find something suitable. A stupid idea.
The sheet beneath you is unpleasantly wet and cold from your own release. The throbbing pain in your finger is a slight distraction from the feeling.
You wish you could just not exist.
You watch the tree branches swaying in the wind outside the window. You don't feel the passage of time. Just watch as the sky darkens. The streetlights come on. It starts to snow. Big, fluffy snowflakes slowly, slowly fall down⊠You're cold. You imagine lying out there, being slowly buried by the snow.
Until the door opens and the weight and heat of another body cover you once again. You feel so small.
âDo you like it, my love?â a voice mockingly purrs in your ear as its owner forcefully pushes his cock into your tired, aching, miserable body one more time.
You're not a person. You're not even an animalâthey have at least some instinct for self-preservation. An animal would gnaw off its own paw to escape the trap you walked into willingly. You're just a worthless thing to be used, ready to serve its owner again. Things are unfamiliar with concepts like dignity.
I wake up groggy, head pounding, limbs restrained, mouth gagged. The cold metal of the examination table bites into my skin as I squirm against the thick leather straps pinning my wrists and ankles down.
He leans over me, eyes burning with sadistic amusement. I whine behind the gag, mouth too stuffed to make any coherent noises. His fingers trail along my inner thigh, humming a playful tune before giving my flesh a sharp, stinging pinch. "Look who decided to wake up!" He tilts his head, grinning. "Took you long enough, I was getting bored waiting."
With a smirk, he presses a button on the side of the table and a mechanical whirring fills the room as stirrups snap into place, forcing my legs apart.
His free hand suddenly presses down on my lower belly, fingers digging in just enough to make me whimper and squirm. "So sensitive," he coos, "You are going to be so fun to play with."
His thumb circles my entrance, teasing, before he plunges two fingers in without warning, crooking them upward ruthlessly. "Mm, you're already so sloppy. Bet you didnât even realize your body could react like this, did you?"
A cruel laugh escapes him as he adds a third finger, stretching me obscenely, his other hand palming my stomach again, pressing down, forcing me to feel how deep heâs reaching. I scream behind the gag as painful pleasure shoots through my body.
He presses his fingers deeper and I arch my back against the restraints. Then I feel it, his fingers graze against my deepest spot and my whole body shudders.
"Oh, thatâs your cervix, sweet thing. You can feel it, canât you? Does that hurt? Or did you like that?" His grin widens as I whimper. "I think you liked that."
He leans in close, breath ghosting over my ear. "Donât fret, Iâll make sure you like this."
With that, he withdraws his fingers only to replace them with something thicker, colder. I whine from the stark temperature contrast as metal slides into my pussy. A medical-grade speculum clicks open, forcing me wider, exposing my desperately dripping cunt completely under the harsh overhead lights. "There we go," he coos, tapping the metal dismissively, making it send vibrations through me. "Much better view."
His fingers return, this time circling my cervix directly, rubbing slow, torturous circles, stimulating me in a way my body doesnât know how to cope with. I clench, jerking against the restraints but he just tuts, amused. "Ah-ah. Donât fight me, sweet girl," he teases.
His fingers press harder, the pressure against my cervix mirroring a different kind of pressure building within me. Heâs going to make me cum like this.
He grins devilishly at me as he presses deeper and gives my clit a harsh pinch with his free hand.
A choked gasp rips from my throat as my body betrays me, gushing around his hand. He throws his head back and laughs, delighted. "Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic." He pulls his hands away and wipes his glistening fingers on my thigh, smirking down at my wrecked expression.
"Donât worry, pretty thing. Weâre just getting started."
The hum of a toy fills the room. A thin, precise electric probe, buzzing faintly. My body trembles against the restraints, slick with sweat, every shallow breath hitching as his free hand lazily traces circles over my clit, just hard enough overstimulate my raw nerves.
"Oh, pretty girl, youâre shaking," he coos. "We just started and youâre so desperate already." His thumb grinds down suddenly, forcing a choked whine from my throat as the pleasure washes over me. Then he tsks, pulling away just as my hips twitch up. "Ah-ah. No, no, no chasing, you donât get to choose when you get pleasure. I do."
He smiles at me before pressing the toy against my clit without warning. A jolt of electricity lances through me, sharp, bright, just shy of pain. My back arches violently, a scream tearing loose behind the gag as my muscles seize. He laughs, delighted, and does it again. And again.
"Look at youâconvulsing like a broken toy," he sneers, dragging the probe lower, tracing along my soaked cunt. "Youâd think your body would have some dignity, but no. Itâs just begging for more." The electric probe flicks my entrance. âYou know, that speculum should be a perfect conductor for this electricity. Should we find out what happens when they meet?â
He doesnât wait for my response and plunges the toy into me, electricity crackling against my walls and the metal holding me open. My vision goes white as the shock hits every inch of my dripping pussy. I writhe, sobbing, but he only presses deeper, angling it upâ
Zap.
My scream fractures as the current slams into my g-spot, my hips jerking helplessly. "There it is!" He croons, watching my thighs quiver. "Thatâs the spot, isnât it? The one that makes you drip like a filthy little thing." Another shock, harder this time. My vision whites again out as my cunt clenches, gushing around the toy and the speculum.
But he doesnât stop there.
The cold metal clicks wider, exposing my cervix to the chilled air. He exhales, amused, as the delicate tissue flutters under his gaze. "Oh, thatâs sensitive Iâm sure," he murmurs. I thrash and beg behind the gag, a pit of dread building in my stomach as I realize what he plans to do.
He ignores my protests and taps my cervix with the probe, just once, lightly, no electricity yet. I sob as the unbearable sensation shoots through me. Then he grins andâ
ZAP.
I screech, body bowing off the table as agony-pleasure erupts from my core, my cunt spasming, squirting in pathetic, helpless bursts. He watches, enthralled, as I choke on my own drool, tears streaking my face.
Another shock against my cervix. My vision blurs, hips jerking wildly as another orgasm is ripped from me. Tears stream down my face, my breath coming in broken sobs, but he doesnât stop. He leans in, his breath hot against my ear.
"Youâre not even trying to resist. Just taking it like a good little toy. Go on, scream for me. Let me hear how ruined you are."
He cranks the voltage higher.
My world implodes.
Electricity carves through me like a blade, my cunt pulsing, my voice breaking into a shattered wail as I squirt again for him, my body writhing in overstimulated agony. He moans at the sight, pressing the probe even deeper, forcing my cervix to take it, to feel it, until all I can do is convulse against my restraints.
"Perfect." He purrs, finally pulling back to admire his handiwork, my wrecked, trembling body, dripping cunt, and tear-streaked face. "You really are such a treat to break."
He pats my thigh, grinning. "Now letâs see how many more I can force out of you before you pass out."
The toy crackles again as he waves it tauntingly at me. I whimper and his laugh is the last thing I can remember as my mind buckles under his torment.
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