true-me-smut

18+ only. NSFW stories I wrote, prompted, or enjoyed reading.

[dollymeup]

Periodic kink blog reminder that:

Real sexism is not sexy.

Real sexual harassment is not hot, it’s awful.

Real women don’t owe you anything for simply existing.

If you’re doing anything without consent, you are objectively wrong, vile, and a predator.

If you disagree with any of the above, unfollow me and seek professional help.

[daughtxr-of-lilith]

A kind reminder for doms<3

It's okay if you're not in the mood to play. It's okay if you don't want to be touched, or if you feel too tired to lead.

It's okay if you need a break, or if you experience dom drop and don't feel like yourself.

Your needs matter, too. You don't have to perform an endless role of being in control. You're allowed to be human, to step back, to say "Not today."

And it's okay to lean on your partner and let them take care of you, in whatever way you need that.

Your worth as a Dom isn't measured by how much you can give without rest. It's measured by how honestly you show up, for yourself and for them.

Take care of yourself. You deserve the same compassion you offer others 🖤

[sxslls]

Trophy Hunter

She fought until she couldn't stand anymore. Her shiny armor splattered with blood. And as she lay there on the battleground she knew that her kingdom, her knights, her minors and she herself were lost.

The mighty reptiles her army had were slain, her knights and soldiers dead and wounded, horses dead.

She did the only thing she could. She left her swords there and tried to stand, staggering when she finally found it in herself to stand up. Her signal was enough to make the remaining forces surrender. They knew this was the probable outcome, but they had to try and defend their country. They did it with pride - and then they lost.

The enemy accepted their surrender. Nobody else died that day. They took her, but the Leader forbade them from touching her. She knew why. He was known to take trophies, and what better trophy was there than the queen of the country you just invaded?

He tied her wrists and legs together, hoisted her up onto his horse and took her back to his own castle. She didn't say a single word during their long, uncomfortable ride back and she was almost grateful that he didn't taunt her with her defeat.

His forces would be securing her country by now, making it his. She wouldn't see her throne or her crown ever again.

When they arrived, he dragged her to his private chamber, ordering two guards and some maids to come with them. She watched as they helped him out of his armour, acutely aware of her own, washed him and dressed him in excuisite clothes.

He then sat down in a comfortable looking chair, watching her lying on the floor, blood and dirt covering her, hair tangled and eyes wild. "Undress her, wash her", he ordered.

She didn't resist. She knew there was no point to it, but she held her head high, even when she couldn't hold her body up on her own. The guards held her up while the maids loosened the straps of her armour, taking it off of her until just the tunic underneath remained. He was watching as they took that off as well, leaving her naked.

He watched, but didn't touch. Yet. Her pert breasts and fit frame were to his liking, she knew, even if she was beyond exhausted. It was the way his eyes lingered on her body. She tried to look defiant, but to no avail as they helped her sit in the tub. She was surprised to find that they changed the water for her and added bath salts and oils to it. The maids washed her and her hair until she was clean again.

They dried her skin and put soothing balm on her bruises. Her armor had protected her from worse, all those endless hours of battle and death and still she was mostly unscathed.

"One night of rest", he said.

Everyone but her seemed to know what he meant by that, but she was too tired to keep her eyes open any longer. She was given a soft tunic to sleep in and shown a room with a bed, a table and a jug of water. She gulped down the water without bothering to use a cup before falling into bed.

They let her sleep and bought breakfast for her when the sun was already high in the sky. After that, they bought her to the main hall, where the Leader waited. She was still only wearing the tunic, no underwear, no shoes.

A few guards were positioned throughout the hall. As she looked around herself, she saw his colllection of trophies. He was known to collect them. Exotic birds in a big cage, pictures and other pieces of art, sculpures and weapons were all presented. He must've collected all of these in the different countries he invaded. She had to admit that she was impressed by this.

A big cat was sitting at his feet, a mighty predator. It was collared and purred loudly as he stroked it's head.

"Very good", he said. "Now, strip", he commanded.

She hesitated, but knew that ultimately she would loose the tunic, one way or another, so she complied. He hummed appreciatively when she revealed her smooth skin. Of course, she had a lot of bruises and smaller wounds, but nothing too serious.

"You are the very first queen to lead her army herself", he said and she flinched as he used her title. "I respect you for it. You knew there was no chance of winnig and still you tried. And you fought fiercly and lead your men wisely", he praised her. But it didn't feel like praise. She still lost the battle.

He made a sign and his guards saluted to her in a mockery show of respect. She was naked, standing in the middle of his hall. She knew her nipples were hard and she knew she had nothing.

But he didn't seem any less genuine when he said, "You alone are the reason my men spared your army. They can return to their families and live their lives. We won't hurt any of them. You have my word."

She nodded. There was no reason not to believe him now.

"But you, of course, can neiter become a martyr nor stay their queen. I will have to strip you of your title and your power. I publicly executed all other kings and princes", he said. "I won't kill you." His final sentence surprised her. But she knew that there were worse fates than death.

The Leader pulled something out of his robes. A collar made of metal that he fastened around her throat. He held the key.

"Prepare her", he said and turned to sit down on his throne.

Two guards came and lead her to a wall close to the Leader's throne. Her eyes widened as she saw what he had planned for her. She was to actually, literally become one of his trophies. Her place was to be between her own two swords that she lost in the battle, cleaned and shiny, and one of the reptiles that she had trained for her army.

Tne guard shoved a gag into her mouth before they lifted her, folded her legs so they would hold her fast to her new position. Her hands were tied behind her back, pushing her breasts out. Legs spread and bound to the wall so that she was bared and presented to everyone entering the hall.

Then one of the guards started toying with her breasts, rolling the nipples between his fingers, massaging it. She tried to keep looking defiant, but her eyes fluttered when he tested the wetness between her legs without pushing a finger into her. He kept going until she was well and truly wet and then stopped, reporting back to the Leader.

He came to her a few minutes later, admiring her on his wall of trophies. "Oh yes", he said with a smirk. "You are for sure the best trophy I obtained as of yet." He made a sign with his hands and the guards turned around, so that they were observing the whole hall as the Leader loosened his belt buckle and opened his trousers to pull out his thick dick.

She was positioned perfectly for him. He'd only have to push it in like this, while she was restrained and held open for him. She growled, but he only chuckled.

He palmed her tits as well, muttering how perfect they fit in his hands. "You'll be here, ready to be of service to me", he said. "I will welcome ambassadors and advisors. They will all see and desire you", he said and positioned his cock at her pussy, spreading her wetness. "But they won't be allowed to touch. You're mine. My trophy queen."

He started pushing his cock into her. She squirmed, but couldn't get away. "And after that I'll take you to my chambers. You'll get a bed of furs to sleep on, just like my cat."

His dick slotted itself into her until she'd taken all of him. He stilled inside of her, making her feel every inch of him. "You'll learn to love the collar, you'll never be without it again", he said, still keeping his cock so deep inside of her. "You'll love it, you see. You won't have to worry about leading your army, all you'll have to worry about is pleasing me. I will take good care of you and your country for you, I promise. I'll even take you there, you can warm my cock in the carriage."

He pulled out of her slowly, until the head of his cock popped out of her and her pussy was left empty before plunging in again in one hard stroke, making her mewl around the gag. "I'll have bindings shackes made for every one of my castles, so I can take you with me wherever I go", he promised.

And then he stopped talking, starting to fuck her in earnest. Her whole body shook as he fucked her with punishing strokes, hard and deep and so good. She lost the defiant look soon after, her face morphing into one of pleasure as he started rubbing her clit in agonizing circles.

He fucked her like that until she felt an orgasm building deep inside her core, threatening to wash over her. She tried to hold back, but when he pushed in one last time, up to the hilt to release his thick seed into her, she couldn't surpress it any longer.

She was panting, moaning and mewling as her pussy clenched around his thick member. He started moving again slowly, fucking her through her orgasm and into the next as he picked up speed again.

He proceeded to make her cum two more times until he was satisfied. She knew that she looked thoroughly fucked, wild hair with cum dripping from her cunt. He wiped his cock on her thighs before ordering his guards to bring in the first ambassador.

"Don't worry", he said. "I'll fuck all of your other holes soon enough." He teased her anus with a finger, slapping her ass before leaving her.

The ambassador entered just as he tucked himself into his pants and sat down on his throne. Her pussy leaked his cum and she was sure that there had to be a puddle of cum underneath her.

She ambassador kept looking over at her distractedly and she could see the Leader smirk. Oh, she wasn't just here for his pleasure. She was here to make politics easier for him as well.

I have a ko-fi page, buy me a coffee if you like :)

Repost because the original one was the reblog of a post that got flagged in 10/2021.

[gothteddiesdotcom]

If there’s one fantasy I always come back to it’s one where I’m working in a dingy liquor store late at night somewhere, minding my business at the registers when a needy little toy enters the store. Someone where I can just tell immediately, where I just know that they’re a slut on the inside, just waiting for someone to take control of them.

Watching them browse around the aisles of the store, taking their time and checking the prices of every bottle. Waiting for them at the register until they finally come up a few minutes later with a bottle of wine and some cheaper 6-pack cartoons of drinks. Scanning all their items one by one and watching them eye the running total on the screen nervously. And after the final scan and a short awkward pause, finally speaking up just to tell them, with one hand pushing forward the bottle of wine they picked out:

“I’ll give you the rest of it for free if you ride this bottle for me.”

They freeze. Giving me that deer in headlight look, like they can’t believe what heard me just say.

“I mean it. I won’t charge you for anything but the wine if you ride this bottle for me right now.”

They look at me, still a little shellshocked, then back to the total still showing on the customer side of the register screen. They bite their lip as they think about it, before nodding a minute later, like they can’t believe what they’re agreeing to. I smile back at them, and beckon for them to take off their bottoms. They glance around at the empty store, both anxiety and a little excitement in their eyes as they peel the clothes off and expose the lower half of their body to the world. Afterwards, unsure, they look at the bottle still on the counter as if they don’t know what to do next now.

That’s when I jump in, before they have a chance to reconsider, smiling disarmingly as I reach over the counter, sliding my hands under theirs arms and reaching up, ignoring their squeak as I pull them into the air and onto the counter, setting them down so that they’re kneeling just behind the bottle.

I drop my hands from where they were grabbing their sides, still smiling to show them it’s okay, watching as they gather their dignity and courage again. Cautiously placing one hand down on the bottle and sliding it into place underneath them, a determined look on their face. Letting out a tiny whimper when they feel the cold glass touch their skin for the first time, then closing their eyes and gently grinding down with it pressed to their entrance in order to prepare themselves. Taking a deep breath and pushing down, allowing the neck of the bottle to fully penetrate them as they gasp. Letting out a small moan now as they gently lower themselves further, taking the smooth neck of the bottle even deeper. Groaning when they bottom out against it, opening their eyes to smile at me, proud of taking it all, before starting to rock their hips and put on the show that I asked for.

Smiling and drinking in the view of this gorgeous little pet riding their bottle of wine for me, offering them small words of encouragement and appreciation every few minutes until we hear the sounds of the door opening and telltale bell chime of a new customer entering the store. The toy on the counter freezes, brought back down to reality and horrified at the position they’ve been caught in, but I simply catch their eyes and under my breath sternly order them to stay put despite their panicked eyes. I call out to the customer, greeting them warmly as the poor thing kneeling above my register realizes they must be a regular. The regular stamps away into the aisles, seemingly nonplussed by the half naked slut riding a bottle on the cash register counter, and I turn back to them myself to tell them to keep going, that it’s fine. Watching them nervously start to shift their hips again, letting out a small moan as the pleasure makes them lose their focus again, relaxing into their motions.

Only be to be shaken out it once more when the regular roughly drops their 6-pack to the counter space next to them a few minutes later, ignoring them to ask me instead to grab a pack of cigarettes for them from behind the counter. Making small talk with the regular as I ring them up, ignoring the live sex show happening next to us like it’s completely normal apart from a single passing comment about how I “found a cute one tonight.”

Laughing in agreement as I finish checking them out and wishing them a good night as they leave the store, turning back to the doll on the counter afterwards. Noticing that they must’ve found the casual objectification of our actions attractive and are rubbing at themselves with their free hand to get off while they continue bouncing on the bottle. Smiling and asking them if they’re close, enjoying the needy whimper out of them when they nod their head yes. Moving closer to them, standing directly in front of the counter they’re kneeling on with no space between us, reaching a hand under their chin to tilt it up and look into their eyes before ordering them to cum for me. Watching as this proves too much for them, their legs shaking as they start to cum and I continue to hold their chin and force eye contact, making them look at me as they cum on the bottle they’re riding for me. Staring in their eyes as they ride out the orgasm, smiling as I watch them cum for me. Reaching under their legs with my other hand without looking away from them as their orgasms finally tapers off, making them quietly whimper from oversensitivity as I carefully pull the bottle out from them, pulling it up to their lips instead and maintaining that same eye contact as I push it into their mouth and make them clean up their own mess.

Setting the bottle down to the side and finally releasing my hold on their chin, letting them collapse in a pile on the counter as I ring up their purchases again, this time with the added special discount. Watching out of the corner of my eye as they shakily climb down and try to put their discarded garments from earlier back on while I bag their drinks.

Smiling at them and how spacey they are, finishing up their transaction for them and mentioning as they turn to leave that I happen to always work Tuesday and Thursday nights at the store alone, and that the I’m more than happy to give them discounts like this whenever they stop by, before watching them embarrassedly grabbing the paper bag filled with their purchases closer to their chest and hurrying out of the store.

(Check out the illustration based on this post!)

[ihavebeenexceptionallynaughty]

So there’s this one guy I fuck…

I don’t cum when we get together. I have agreed that he will not make an attempt to pleasure me. He does not touch my pussy, except for humiliating wet checks. He does not fuck my pussy, either. Up until now, he’s exclusively slapped me, spanked me, tortured my clit, degraded me, and fucked my mouth. He once made me strip and called me fat while I crawled around on the floor. Once he jerked off into a Fleshlight and dumped all the goo on my face. Of course, when he’s done cumming, I get dressed and then leave. I am a hole. A cumrag.

We’ve talked about my next trick: being his living, breathing anal Fleshlight. I’ll show up at his house. He’ll then have me strip, then he’ll duct tape my pussy closed. No clit touching that way, either. Then he’ll let me work a little lube in my ass before he fucks me. (Not ready to try dry just yet. I want to; I just need training.)

Then he’ll fuck me. I want it to hurt. My grunts of pain will turn him on. He’ll cum in my sore ass, and I’ll get a sip of water, get dressed, and leave. My ass will be burning in pain and gooey on the long trip home. I’ll still have that fucking tape I’ll have to rip off my cunt when I get back. That’ll hurt like a bitch.

But fuuuuck, I’ll be so unfulfilled and dripping. I’ll get to spend the whole day thinking about what a whore I am, good enough to know I’m supposed to please cock, but too disgusting to be allowed orgasm or pleasure. I just allowed a man free use of my asshole with no reciprocation.

My soaked cunt will be proof enough I don’t deserve to cum.

[mimi-is-so-horny]

Sir drove me to His place from work. He looked a bit nervous and we chatted about work as He interrupted His own answers to my questions to make sure i’d be comfortable with another woman practicing impact play on my cunt, and remind me of my safewords (errr, the point is i do not get to forget them, babes). i was shy, myself – i has briefly met His guest, D, in the past. i knew i liked her very much, and it is not difficult for me to develop crushes on women. i felt shy, because i remembered her so well – i was not sure if she would remember me, and what she thought of me, if at all. i know i usually proclaim i do not really care about what people think of me, but i care about people i am interested in. of course i want these hot, cool people to think i’m hot and cool, too. of course i want them to want to fuck me. maybe it is how i was raised being a bit neglected by my parents or directly being told i was dumb and unattractive by my grandparents, that made the attention i started getting from boys and men become the source of a lot of confusion growing up. and since i quickly came to the conclusion that “men will fuck anything”, i became “anything”. but that meant i also couldn’t let others in on my insecurities, and that i should be as direct and invulnerable as possible: unnerve them before they do it to you, right?

but, i do not have the courage to do that with people whose opinion i really care about. i cannot appear unbothered around Sir, or be a bitch to Anna; it would feel farcical, like costume. they can see how wet i get, or when i am about to cry, when i’m blushing. why even attempt to hide it? if i seek real experiences that allow me the intensity of real feelings, and real sensations, and real service and pain, i simply cannot (must not) hide.

anyway. that was fun to think about – Sir parked the car and the garage door closed. we were in the dark for a bit, and He told me to take my shirt and my skirt off. He didn’t look as i ungracefully shuffled trying to pull my skirt down, or unbuttoning the front of my top. He motioned for me to remove my underwear, too. it felt cold but then i felt the unique cold of the leather car seat against my cunt. i had not adequately warmed all parts of the seat with my ass, and now my cunt was paying for it. i keep looking down, and cannot bring myself to face Him like that. He told me to go inside and wait on His bed, on my knees, ass-up, face on the duvet. i was allowed to use the toilet – D would arrive in about half and hour. He had to make some calls.

i pee and i freshen up, and i blot the oily spot on my nose with a paper tissue, and i re-apply the nude pink lipstick i keep at His on my lips. i want D to think i’m pretty, because i remember she’s very beautiful, too. my nipples are hard and erect and I squeeze them a bit. i wipe my cunt with a baby wipe and the soft sheen fills me with relief. it is embarrassing enough that my degradation is so arousing to me, but it would be even more so if i were ungrateful enough to be dry before meeting D. i remember something Anna patronisingly told me once; “don’t be ungrateful, be a kind whore”. i am not a very kind person, but it is wildly hot to think my cunt dictates my kindness due to my submission. it is a very blissful, peaceful, good thing. it makes me want to be a good thing for others, too.

i kneel on the bed and wait. i open my legs and i can only imagine i look like a ridiculous fleshy angle with a spot of hair touching the duvet. i know my pale skin is translucent and that my veins show at places. i’m jealous of Sir and Anna whose skin looks flawless compared to mine. i feel my liquids drying and pooling more between my thighs.

i can hear two sets of footsteps, and Sir and D are in the room. i do not speak, but i move my knees a bit, hoping that translates to a polite greeting. i wonder whether my ass looks cute. i hope it does. Sir invites D to see how denied i am, and she remarks how she doesn’t believe i’m denied since April. i must be lying. He says i’m honest. oh well. i wait for Sir’s permission to speak, but i grow more and more desperate. i let a sigh out.

“aw. poor little girl.” “D, shall we start?” “I want to see her face first.” “you will.”

Sir promptly flips me over. He tells D that it’s important to punish a cunt when it has full visibility of your hands and tools – that anticipation hurts more when it’s knowing, because then it metabolises the severity of the punishment better.

“is she punished for something specific today?” “no. but she knows I like to see her suffer. she likes it, too.”

i need it. i want to beg.

Sir grabs and tugs my hair abruptly, and i keep quiet. i keep looking down. He said He needs some relief before we resume. He first lets D weave a ribbon between my piercings to close my cunt shut, and leash my hood piercing. she likes my piercings a lot. He takes me to the bathroom and i give Him a blowjob. my knees are uncomfortable and His tugs on my leash make my cunt drip more. He grunts and he takes control – He cums fucking my mouth. i puke a little clear liquid in the process and i think it’s dripping from my chin – He wipes it across my tits. i’m embarrassed. He smiles as He washes His hands and i try to sit more comfortably on the cold tile, but He drags my leash again and i know that D is waiting. i see her sitting on the bed as Sir opens the door again, and He leads me to the opposite corner of the mattress. she is very pretty and has really beautiful lips but i do not want to face her – I’m blushing and He points it out, so they both chuckle. ugh. fuck. she takes my leash and tells me she really likes my heels, and asks me where i bought them. i say i do not remember but my voice is very quiet, and she asks again. i repeat my answer and she laughs again.

“can we move on, please? Sir? please, Sir? my shoulders feel cold.” “aw, poor Mimi.” “it’s not funny.” “i know sweetie, i know.”

He ties my knees to my ankles and spreads my legs apart. He tells me to grab my elbows behind my back, and i do. i’m totally open and i feel ashamed of my wetness, especially as the dreadful moment comes: D touches me and unties the ribbon, and opens my cunt, and whistles as she keeps examining how wet it is. her touch is electrifying and i want her to go on, but she withdraws and slaps my cunt with her open palm. i feel betrayed because her warm hand felt so good at first. i whine and Sir pulls me closer to the edge of the bed – He lays me down on my back and tells me that if i am a good slut for them, and i don’t whine, and i’m not too noisy, i’ll get to taste D. i take this very seriously and control my breathing because i want to be silent. i want to be His toy, and let her practice on me, to lick her pussy later. i can’t think of anything more important at that moment. i arch my back to accommodate my arms a bit better under it and i have to say, that position is more cosy than i thought. He ties the ribbon through my piercings and around my thighs, so i’m as open as i can be.

He whipped me thrice (i think) with a belt, and he gave it to her. He went easier on me than i’d expected, probably because He knew D would be more enthusiastic. and god, she was. she whipped me thirteen times before i yellowed. the first five were suspiciously soft and then she started aiming for my clit. i started tearing up, and if it wasn’t for my promise to stay quiet, i could have taken more. even Sir was surprised – “oh, is it sensitive today? Did you pump too hard, sweetie?”

i nodded and they both chatted about how pumping helps. He explained my cunt pumping to her, and touched my cunt to point out to her how puffy it gets, and i felt like a map or an object, and i loved it. i knew i was blushing all the way to my chest, and i heard them note how denied i was one more time. He said i get wetter with punishment. yeah, no shit. He tells D to clamp my clit and i clench my teeth – she tugs on the clamp, and my flesh feels more tender than usual, and i breath very heavily. she loosens the clamp but that only makes it worse. Sir hands D my tip vibrator and shows her how to use it on my clamped clit.

“i’ve never thought of trying that-“ “oh, that was her idea.” “you little slut!”

they both smile as they see me struggle to take the stimulation through the pain. i really want to feel the warm buzz through the pain, and there is no relief from the clamp, and i know she could go on forever like that without me cumming – i cannot cum through so much pain. i try to rub my clit against the toy more, but it keeps slipping, and that only makes the tug of the clamp worse! i keep my mouth closed through a yelp that sounds like a hiccup, and she pauses. she starts again. i can’t feel my cunt, i can only feel that something between my legs is very, very warm and stinging. i start sobbing through my teeth and they stop. she snaps the clamp away and i know i sound ugly.

Sir tells D to hold me as He goes to another room to find the cane. He is always very organised, and i know there is another cane in His bedroom, anyway. i think He wanted to give me some time to feel better, and to talk to D.

She fondles my breasts and tells me she likes my nipples. i thank her and tell her she is very beautiful. i think i headbutt her shoulder like a cat as i try to get closer to her, and my legs are still tied awkwardly, and i feel awkward, and i am blushing anew. she can definitely tell. she asks me if i like this so far, and i say yes. i ask her the same, and she says she loves it. well, of course she does. her cunt is not burning as far as i can tell. my hands feel useless but i want to touch her so, so much. she kisses my cheek and gets up to take another look at my cunt. fuck.

“is it-“ “red?” “leaking.” “oh, sweetie.”

yeah. i know.

Sir is back with an ice pack and the rubber cane. fuck. not the ice. now He’s just showing off.

He leans forward and grabs a pillow. He lifts my head and places it under it. He tells me to grab the edges of the pillow, and that D will try five last blows with a clamp on my clit, and that then we’ll move on with the cane. i nod. D asks Him if i’m ready, and He says i must be. i am awfully eager, and the break helped me regain enough composure to whisper “yes” very convincingly. well, i must be ready. He clamps my clit, and D takes the belt again to hurt me four more times. she was very quick, and i was grateful. she yanks the clamp one last time, and i groan and yelp, and the last blow is over. i thank her. Sir removes the clamp and kisses my forehead.

i ask for some water and Sir orders me to serve them and hydrate before we move on to caning. he unties my legs, i take their orders and try to wiggle my ass a bit before i leave the room – D says she would like to cane my ass, because the precision caning a cunt must take bores her. i think i heard her sigh? that was so funny.

i can’t even sit as i wait for the water to boil in the kettle – my cunt is so sore i need to lie down or stand. i rub it a bit as i serve them tea and they chuckle.

“Mimi. Does it hurt?” “Yes…?” “Is that a question? You know if your cunt hurts.” “No, i mean yes, i mean, i know it hurts. it hurts.” “Come here.”

He lays me on the floor and tells me to face the window. at least i get a garden view as D starts caning my cunt. i keep my legs open, and i’m quite proud of myself for managing to do so. i do not count, and lose track of… well, everything. i close my eyes and i can smell my cunt, and hear Sir tell her how to do it, and i can feel the stinging and her hesitation. my knees buckle, which makes keeping my legs open easier. thank god she is not as strong as Sir, because a less loose grip and a stronger hand paired with her enthusiasm would make me yellow or red after five blows. i'm already crying and i think my eyes were completely closed by that point. she says she is done and Sir reaches under my armpits to lift my torso. i sit up awkwardly and wipe my eyes. she looks guilty and lights up when i smile to thank her.

i am invited on the bed with them and lie down – she sits on my face as if we’ve both done this before. she lifts her skirt and removes her underwear. i am naked between two fully clothed people who can touch, and cum, and hit me, and i feel awfully content. my cunt is red, and she pinches my nipples, and slaps my tits, and i am soooo thirsty to taste her. they say something but i’m not paying any attention as i’m licking her. her clit is larger than mine and i make her moan quickly. i feel her posture change and she slaps my cunt – is Sir recording this? does He like what He’s seeing? i’ve lost Him in all this.

she squirts all over my neck and chest. she tugs on my leash, and i feel the clasp of the closure touch my denied clit. it felt… rewarding? lovely?

Sir gave me permission to edge but i declined – i would either go too hard and ruin, or i’d bruise my clit again. D asked to cane my ass and i really wanted her to – Sir agreed but He stopped her after ten strikes (she was going really hard and i was too high on my own arousal to feel anything, so it was probably for the best).

i was led to the living room by my leash, where Sir told D she could play with me a bit more. i was probably – errrm, definitely – smiling like a fucking idiot. she asked me to bring her a dildo to insert in my ass, and Sir agreed. i was smart to bring her one of our more modest ones because she placed the suction cup on the coffee table and told me to sit on it. i did. all my shyness was gone because i was admittedly feeling high as fuck – on D’s attention, and Sir’s care, and on my body feeling warm and everything tingling and aching.

she tied my hands behind my back with a scarf and told me to face away from them while they had their drinks. i was grateful she said she felt tired and left early because my ass and knees felt sore as fuck. all the exhaustion kicked in and reading back to what i’ve written, it was no small deal! i will soon be denied for seven months, and it only makes me want to stay denied even more.

Sir was content when He fucked me later, and He was awfully sweet to me. i thanked Him for His cum enough to make Him cringe and we watched a documentary. i slept for ten hours that night – my cat complained a lottt to me when i reached home, and i felt more light and relieved than i've felt in while, waking up.

Sir told me He was very proud of me and my body felt deliciously sore the day after. i think i’m proud of myself, too.

bises, Mimi

[praiusultsch]

Oh my goodness what an experience. And what a thing to read first thing. Mimi is... Just one of the delights of my life.

[itw4skaty]

fuck me when I’m not very into it, not begging and pleading in the subby way of please stop I can’t vs give it all to me, but just not in the mood. When I’m tired. I’ve got a big essay due tomorrow and I need some sleep. I feel sick and the rhythm of being fucked makes me want to puke. I’m sore from last night and need time to recover. All that, fuck it, fuck me anyway, hard angry rapist strokes, fuck my reluctance. I’m just holes and you get off on the useless timid preferences of the human that was once attached. 

[milkyhoneybee]

Older butch mechanic who got implants when she was younger and in her party girl bimbo gender conforming phase, never bothered to get them removed, so she's got big ol' bolt ons stretching out her tank tops, poking out of flannel, tenting every shirt she wears. Never bothers with bras and says it's one of the perks (and cackles like a hyena every time she says that) of having them

Buzz cut, stubble, covered in oil stains and grease and minor burns and bruises, legs lazily spread as she sits down with a beer after a long day of servicing vehicles for her clients, massive tits just constantly present

Sometimes if one of her apprentices or another mechanic seems like they're not paying attention she'll do a couple of heel raises so they bounce and if she sees their eyes/head bobbing, she smacks them in the head and tells them to get their asses in gear they're here to work

Cute femme clients come in and she always swoops on them because she always loves seeing how flustered they get seeing her sweaty cleavage, emphasised when she ties her coveralls under her tits to draw the eye to them

Occasionally she takes a "smoke break" when one really catches her eye and invites them into her office while they're waiting for their oil to be changed or whatever

Their mechanic shop has so many 5 star reviews and referrals by word of mouth they're never short of work

[dontcatchafallingknife]

[milkyhoneybee]

If I had control of you for a week, I'd take you to get as much filler as I can convince someone to put into your lips, nipples, and pussy and clit, including PRP shots. I'd pump your pussy and nipples and clit for hours each day to make them as big and puffy as possible.

I'd cut holes in all your bras and underwear so they show through, and make you wear bright pink or red lipstick. I'd make you go to sketchy bars and porn shops and sex toy stores and parks and offer yourself to whoever is there and charge them whatever loose change or cash they'll give you. I'd also make you beg them to cum in your mouth every time, whether or not they do is up to them. I'd also make you talk and act like a complete bimbo ditz and dress like a slut.

On the last day, I'd drug you and take you to a shady back alley surgeon and tell them to put the biggest implants they have into your tits, put in another round of filler, and let you wake up and deal with it along with the debt of the procedures.

I think people should be able to tell with just a look that you're basically just an over the top sex toy that can walk on its own

I had to look up what PRP shots were but 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 if they actually work, wow.

Seeing my body changed so much, made into a ridiculous parody, like the most over the top bsky hyper art, and not being able to do anything about it... having to play along and whore myself out at someone's command, make myself seem even more vapid and stupid than I look...

And then when I see the end in sight, the rug is yanked out from under me and not only do I have to recovery from surgery for tits I didn't even get to pick out, and just when I've gotten used to how I look with all the filler it's all increased, and I have to pay for all of it??

God, it'd be so distressing but also reading this made me cum so hard I fully soaked my hand. The sort of changes that are life changing and no one would take me seriously at all, they'd just see a sex-crazed perverted freak 🥵🥵🥵

[lord-of-dice-and-kinks]

Corrupted and coerced (CnC)

Oh how CnC is fun. Especially when you physically force the other person. And take them by force. But there’s other ways than violence and struggle to enjoy this kink. There’s other ways of playing out your dark CnC fantasies. Imagine a scene that’s focused around a more mental and verbal forcing. A corrupting in a way. A coercing. A pushing you. And asking you again and again and again. While pushing your boundaries. Until confused and convinced you give your body away. Not able to say no, or perhaps struggling to stand your ground (with consent ofcourse).

Feels wrong doesn’t it? Feels dark. Somebody using their words to overpower you. To keep you still as they have their way with you. To confuse you. Trick you. Gosh this can be oh so fucking fun, if done well ofcourse. Make sure there’s enough discussions about it beforehand. Make sure there’s a check-in moment or some sort of safety measure they can fall back to. Something that says “scene’s over.” Because that’s what this should be. A really dark and fun scene. A play. With both of you being consenting actors in it. Both of you have your own role. Play it well and have fun.

---

“It’s good for you, trust me… you’ll enjoy it. ” I say softly. While my hand continues pushing.

You shake your head. Hands resting on my wrist. Not wanting me to touch you that way. Not being sure. Not being ready. But alas I am good at persuasion. Good at convincing. So I push through until my hand is able to grope your chest. The other slipping towards your pants, slowly opening them. While not breaking eye contact and looking at you directly. Words slowly putting doubt in your mind.

“You invited me over didn’t you? Was this not what you hoped for when getting dressed like this? What you craved when inviting me over? Why does your room smell like bitch in heat. Here, feel. Your panties are wet. Soaked even. Why is that?” I hiss while my hands have pushed and pushed, until I finally reached your wet little pussy. Fingers start digging into you. I push my thigh between your leg to keep you open for me. My other hand pushes your hands away as I continue feeling up your little hole.

“Hmhmm seee? You wanted it. You are so fucking wet.” I say softly. As my fingers push and twist and pull. Turning you into a gasping and drippy mess. You shake your head. Still some resistance left. You whisper some confused words. Try to tell me it’s enough. That you don’t want it. But don’t find it in you as my hand makes it hards to think. My fingers make it hard to think. But still you grasp onto my wrist. Hoping this ends soon.

“You asked for this. Your body knows what it wants.” I say while pulling your hand away. Not stopping but instead starting to undress your body. Panic sparks into your eye. A fearful gaze. You shake your head. Not this. Not this. But all I do is show you a wicked smile.

“You don’t want others to find out how slutty you are right? For them to know your pussy is drenched like this for others? Do you? Imagine what would happen then?” My words freeze your movement and lock down your resolve. Panic turns into frozen fear. I use this moment to rip open your top. Undress you. Hold you down. Push your face down and your ass up as I mount you and take out my cock. Slapping it against your pussy.

The fear hits. Now it gets real. You tear up. Don’t want this. It’s enough. It’s too much. You want it to stop. Try to resist. Fight back. Or maybe speak up with a trembling voice. But I just smile. Rubbing the tip of my cock against your entrance while making sure to hold you down with your arms behind your back.

“Well juuuust the tip. It’s only fair after I made you feel oh so good right? Just a minute or so and it’s over. I promise.” I lie to you sweetly with false promises of this ending faster. My words coercing you to lay still. Convincing you to let me have my fucking way. And you lay still. And you wait. And you hate. And sob. And whimper. And count the seconds that feel like hours.

And then I push my tip inside. You hear me gasp as your warmth engulfs my rod. Then I push deeper. And deeper. And in one mean slam I have lodged my cock all the way inside your pussy. Forcing myself into you. Breaking my promise. You yelp and try to turn around. Try to push me away. To cry for me to stop. But to no avail as I hold you down and continue taking you like the little slut you are. Pounding you harder and deeper than before. Ruining and violating your body for my pleasure.

“No no no!” You scream.

“Shhh it’s your fault. Why were you so warm and wet and inviting?! This is what YOU wanted. This is what YOU craved. Your body asked for it. Let me enjoy you a little bit longer. Stop resisting so much. You don’t want me to lose control and accidentally cum inside your fertile pussy now do you? Stay still and I’ll pull out for you.” I say in threatening way.

You bit your lips and lay there frozen and still. Sobbing and gasping. As I fuck your pussy for my own delight. Hammering away at it. Bruising it from the inside. And we both know I’m not going to pull out. I defiled your mind and choice. Coerced you to give away what’s yours. And now in the last stretch I’ll fill up your pussy with cum. Pumping wave after wave of cum inside of you. Until you are broken and full. And no matter how much yo whimper or resist. My words will arouse you. My words will corrupt you. My words will convince you. To let me take what I want.

---

And obviously this scene would end in proper aftercare for both. Maybe some cuddles. Maybe some reflecting how things went. And for sure some drinking of water because of how thirsty you got.😉

[lord-of-dice-and-kinks]

Taking your mouth by force

Imagine discussing this CnC scene between the two of us, where we end up just relaxing together at my place as “friends”. We make ourselves a cup of tea to warm up from this horribly cold weather. We get ourselves some healthy snacks. Put on some cozy lights and get on the couch to watch some movies. Now imagine after a while you feel my hand wandering onto your thigh. Squishing your leg. Pressing against you. Arm potentially wandering close to your pussy, but you brush me off and tell me to stop. I do so, but not for long. As soon after my hand starts wandering towards your back.

Suddenly you feel me grab you by your neck and pull you face first onto my lap.

“Hey!!! What the fuck!” You shout.

“Shhhhhh! Just let me.” I growl. “This is what you wanted isn’t it?” I say in an annoyed tone. “Just a cock to suck like the filthy slut you are. Just stay still and suck me to completion whore.”

Before you can process what I mean you feel my dick (that I had already pulled out my comfy pants) push against your lips as I hold your head in place with my other hand. You try to scream a “nooo stop!” But all that comes out of your mouth is a frustrated gargle and gasp as I push my veiny shaft inside your warm and wet entrance. You feel betrayed. Dirty. Used. Tricked into meeting up with a friend. Forced into acts you did not want.

What follows is a struggle. You try to push yourself up. Hitting my thigh, while also trying to focus on breathing through your nose as tears roll down your eye. I in the meanwhile forcefully push your head downwards while thrusting my hips upwards. Literally fucking myself into you as I take your mouth by force.

“Fuck! Take it you dirty little slut. This is all friends like you are good for. Being my personal cock sucking sluts”

The room fills with the sloppy noise of your mouth being pounded and the needy whimpers of despair escaping your lips. But I don’t stop. At one point I literally pin both your wrists behind your back while facefucking you with my hard veiny cock. Ocassionally rubbing my cock and balls against your face while mocking you for being such a weak slut. Heck maybe even spitting on your face and laughing at how well you suck my cock.

Because let’s be honest. You won’t win our playfight or struggle. I’ll take you. Overpower you. Then use you however I want. I’ll be pumping my cock in and out your mouth like it’s a cheap little fucktoy. Even if you flail or try to turn your head. And I won’t stop. Until I have to cum. Then I’ll make sure to wrap my strong legs around your head. Pin your hands down with mine. Then slam my cock nice and deep inside your mouth before dumping wave after wave of thick semen down your throat. Forcing you to swallow every single drop before wiping my dirty cock all over your pretty face.

(And afterwards we’ll cuddle and continue watching the movie. While your face is a ruined mess, your face is flustered and your pussy is dripping for more)

[spankedquail]

A Wife's Oral Training

The first time I was spanked for lackluster oral sex, I was genuinely shocked.

I knew my husband was strict. By that point I already understood that he followed through on his rules, that he expected obedience, attentiveness, good manners, all of it. But I think some naive little part of me assumed sex would somehow exist outside that structure. That if I was at least trying, that would be enough.

Well...it wasn’t.

The problem wasn’t that I refused him. It wasn’t that I was openly disobedient. It was subtler than that, and honestly more embarrassing. I was being lazy, distracted, performing instead of serving. I was treating his pleasure like an obligation instead of giving him my full attention.

Of course, Mr. Quail noticed immediately.

He stopped me very calmly, took my chin in his hand, and asked:

“Are you trying to please me right now?”

I remember blushing instantly because I knew the truthful answer was no. Not really. I was in my own head. I was rushing. I was waiting for him to finish instead of focusing on him properly.

That was the first lesson: compliance is not the same thing as submission.

I was already naked, as I usually am when I’m giving oral. Bare from head to toe, on my knees in front of him, thinking I was doing what I was supposed to do. But, kneeling isn’t enough if my mind is somewhere else. Opening my mouth isn’t enough if I’m not truly attending to him. Being physically available is not the same as being pleasurable and useful.

He stood up, walked to the dresser, and picked up the leather strap.

That was when my stomach dropped. I honestly thought I was getting maybe two or three swats and a lecture. Instead, he pointed to the bed and told me to bend over.

I remember standing there beside the mattress, face hot, eyes down, still half-convinced this was going to be mostly symbolic. He told me to put both hands flat on the sheets, spread my feet slightly, arch my back, and hold still.

Then came the rules.

No reaching back. No twisting away. No closing my legs. No clenching. No interrupting him while he corrected me.

If I broke position badly enough, the count would restart. That made the whole room feel different.

The strap itself was folded leather, thick and heavy in his hand. I remember the soft creak of it as he adjusted his grip. I remember how quiet he was. That is always the thing that gets to me with him: he doesn't need to raise his voice to make me feel small. His calm is much worse than any yelling could be.

The first stroke shocked me more than hurt me at first — a deep, flat burst of heat across both cheeks that made my whole body jump forward against the mattress. Before I could even recover, his hand settled firmly between my shoulder blades.

“Hold still.”

His voice stayed perfectly even.

The next strokes came slowly, spaced far enough apart that I had time to feel each one fully bloom before the next landed. By the fourth, I was breathing hard. By the sixth, my thighs were trembling. The leather hurt in layers: first the impact, then the heat, then the spreading throb that seemed to settle deeper every second.

And he kept talking to me while he strapped me.

Not loudly. Not angrily. Just very matter-of-fact.

“If you’re on your knees for me, you'd better focus.” “Lazy service is disrespectful.” “You will use your mouth attentively.” “You are not down there to wait me out. You are down there to please me.”

That last one made me cry harder than the strap, because he was right. I had been waiting him out.

I had been physically in my place, but not mentally in my place. And my place, when I’m on my knees before him, is not passive. It is not bored. It is not half-present. My place is attentive, eager, and focused on his pleasure.

At one point, I instinctively tightened when the strap came down low across the underside of my cheeks. I didn’t even mean to. My body just braced.

He stopped immediately.

“No.”

Just that single word.

Then his hand was on me, firm and unhurried, pressing and shaking my cheeks loose until the tension went out of them.

“Clenching is defiance.”

I was crying by then, mortified and sore, trying to breathe properly while he corrected my body calmly.

“If you tense against correction, you are resisting me. Stay soft. This is your last warning. Next time you clench, we start over.”

That was another lesson I never forgot.

It wasn’t just about taking the strap. It was about how I took it. He wanted me open. Yielded. Not armored against him. Not secretly fighting him with my muscles while pretending to obey with the rest of me.

I had to physically force myself back into position: feet spread, back arched, cheeks loose, hands flat on the bed. He waited until I was properly arranged before continuing.

By the end I was openly crying into the sheets. Not pretty tears. Real ones. My face was wet, my nose was running a little, my backside felt hot and tight and impossibly tender, and I was trying desperately to stay still because I knew he would not accept flailing or dramatics.

Finally, the strap stopped.

I thought it was over.

Instead, he laid the leather lightly across my lower back and said:

“Now tell me what you learned.”

I was still shaking too hard to answer properly at first.

He waited a few seconds and then added, very calmly:

“If the lesson hasn’t sunk in yet, we can continue.”

That terrified me far more effectively than yelling would have. I forced myself to answer between breaths.

“I need to pay attention to you properly.” “I need to focus on pleasing you.” “I shouldn’t lazily service you.” “My mouth is for your pleasure. I will use it attentively.”

Each sentence had to be repeated clearly until he was satisfied with my tone. If I mumbled, he made me start again. He wanted to hear that I understood, not that I was simply trying to get through it.

Only then was I allowed to stand. But I still wasn’t forgiven yet.

He sent me to the corner afterward, still naked, bare ass burning, hands clasped behind my neck while he sat in the chair and read quietly. That corner time did something to me. The strapping hurt, obviously, but standing there afterward with my skin throbbing and my face wet gave the lesson time to sink in.

Every few minutes the heat would settle deeper and make me wince. I could still feel the shape of the strap across me. I could feel where I had clenched and where he had shaken me loose. I could feel the humiliation of being corrected not for refusing him, but for failing to serve him with the care he deserved. Underneath the humiliation was something else: relief.

That is hard to explain to people who don’t live this way. But being taken in hand like that — truly taken in hand — does something to me. It cuts through the excuses and the noise. It reminds me that I am not floating around in our relationship deciding moment by moment how much effort I feel like giving. I am his. His submissive. His girl. When I serve him, I must serve him properly.

Eventually he looked up from his book and said:

“Come demonstrate what you learned.”

I went back to him, still sore, still sniffling a little, and knelt between his legs again.

This time everything felt different.

I wasn’t thinking about myself. I wasn’t waiting for it to end. I was watching him. Listening to him. Paying attention to the smallest changes in his body: his breathing, the tension in his thighs, the way his hand moved into my hair when I did something right. I focused on pressure, tongue movement, eye contact, rhythm. I focused on making him feel worshipped.

And when he finally stroked my cheek and said:

“Much better.”

It affected me more deeply than the strapping itself. I realized he wasn’t just teaching me oral technique. He was teaching me attentiveness. He was teaching me that my place beneath him is active, not passive. That submission is not simply being available to be used. It is applying myself to his pleasure with discipline and care. It is listening with my whole body. It is learning him.

And no, that was definitely not the last time.

Once Mr. Quail realized how responsive I was to that kind of training, he became very exacting about it. The standards didn’t stay fixed either. As I became more experienced, more capable, more familiar with his body and preferences, the expectations rose with me.

He trained me deliberately.

If I did something especially well, he reinforced it immediately. A hand in my hair. A quiet:

“Good girl. Just like that.”

Sometimes he would let me feel how much I’d affected him physically — the change in his breathing, the way his thighs tensed, the way he pulled me closer when I was using my mouth exactly the way he liked. Positive reinforcement absolutely worked on me. I became hungry for those little moments of approval.

But if my focus drifted, if I rushed, if I got lazy or sloppy or stopped paying close attention to his reactions, correction came just as quickly.

And his corrections hurt.

Not playful little swats. Real strappings that left me sore for days. The kind that made sitting carefully necessary. The kind that reduced me to hiccuping tears because I knew I had disappointed him.

The humiliating part was that he was always specific.

Not:

“You’re bad.”

But:

“You stopped paying attention.” “You got lazy.” “You’re capable of better than that.”

That got under my skin much more deeply.

Over time, the training became increasingly exact. He would have me try different pacing, different pressure, different ways of using my tongue and throat. He taught me to pay attention to the entire experience of servicing him, not just mechanically getting him off. He wanted to feel desired, worshipped, carefully attended to.

For a while, during that period of training, he kept the strap physically in his hand while I serviced him. That affected me enormously.

Just seeing it there while I knelt between his legs — folded leather hanging loosely from his fingers — kept me intensely focused. I knew exactly what it meant. If my effort slipped, if my attention wandered, if I became careless, the correction would happen immediately.

And because he always followed through, the threat never felt abstract.

Sometimes he would tap the strap lightly against his thigh while watching me. Sometimes he would rest it across my shoulder or the back of my neck, not striking, just reminding. Sometimes he would pause me, lift my chin, and ask:

“Are you paying attention?”

And I learned to answer with my eyes before I answered with my mouth.

It created an intense state of concentration in me. I became hyper-aware of every reaction in his body: his breathing, his stomach tightening, his hand in my hair, whether he was relaxing into me or becoming impatient.

I learned quickly that attentiveness itself was erotic to him. Feeling carefully observed and skillfully pleased by his wife mattered deeply.

And honestly, it changed me. Eventually the standards stopped feeling external. I internalized them. The strap is rarely needed for that now because the training worked. These days, if I’m on my knees for him, he has my full attention almost automatically. I know what he likes. I know what it means when his breathing changes. I know when to slow down, when to use more pressure, when to stay exactly where I am.

Over time I began to love it.

There is something incredibly intimate about learning another person’s body so thoroughly. About knowing exactly how to make your husband tense, soften, groan quietly, grip your hair harder. About feeling him afterward, relaxed and pleased, and knowing you did that.

I’ll also admit something a little uncharitable: I sometimes pity men whose wives or girlfriends treat oral like an occasional treat, or a bargaining chip, or something to be gotten through with a few half-hearted motions before using their hands to hurry things along. That is so far from how I understand it now.

In our marriage, oral worship is not a cute bonus or a reluctant favor. It is symbolically important. It is one of the clearest physical expressions of my place relative to him: me on my knees, focused upward; him receiving my full attention, patience, and devotion.

There is something profoundly intimate about it. It is not just “giving head.” It is lips, tongue, throat, breath, eye contact, effort, and submission all organized around his pleasure. His cock becomes the center of my attention in a way that is almost ritualistic. I am not trying to rush him to an orgasm so I can be finished. I am trying to make him feel adored, served, and sexually honored by his wife.

There is something very powerful about elevating his cock that way — treating it as something worthy of care, patience, and reverence. Not because he is fragile or needs his ego stroked, but because in our dynamic, his pleasure matters. His satisfaction matters. His body matters. And when I am kneeling there, giving him my mouth properly, I am acknowledging all of that without needing to make a speech.

It has changed how I think about service completely.

A lazy blowjob feels almost insulting to me now. Not just technically bad, but spiritually wrong for the kind of marriage we have. If I am going to kneel for him, I want to kneel all the way. I want him to feel the difference between being casually serviced and being truly worshipped.

There was a funny moment once around “Steak and Blowjob Day,” which I believe is the day after Valentine’s Day. One of Mr. Quail’s friends, Doug, mentioned it to him in that joking-but-not-really-joking way men sometimes do. Something like, “Well, tomorrow’s my day. Finally getting a blowjob out of the wife.”

Mr. Quail smiled in the expected male way — amused, indulgent, not making a scene — but later he told me what he’d actually been thinking.

How sad.

Not cruelly sad, exactly. Just… sad.

Because in our house, there is no special holiday required for my husband to be pleasured by his wife. Hardly a day goes by that he isn’t touched, kissed, licked, sucked, or otherwise attended to. He doesn’t need a calendar gimmick or a once-a-year bargain. He doesn’t need to hope I’ll be in the mood, or negotiate for what should already belong to him.

Later, when he was telling me about it, he smiled and said:

“I really am lucky compared to some of these guys.”

And I loved hearing that.

Not because I want Doug to be unhappy, or because I think every marriage needs to look like ours. But because I want my husband to feel the contrast. I want him to know that he is not one of those men quietly hoping his wife remembers to desire him twice a year.

He did joke — privately, obviously — that Amy sounded like she could use a proper wife boot camp. A few weeks of long and hard spankings, clear rules, early bedtimes, calorie tracking, daily service, and learning that “not tonight” is not a personality. It was partly a joke, but I understood what he meant. From our perspective, a lot of what people call “normal marriage” looks like neglect dressed up as independence.

And yes, I know that sounds severe to some women.

But I do think it’s part of my responsibility as his wife not to let myself become sexually unavailable, physically careless, or indifferent to his appetite. I don’t think a man should be expected to stay endlessly faithful and devoted to a woman who refuses to care for herself, refuses to care for him, and treats his desire like an inconvenience. In our marriage, that would be a serious failure on my part.

He leads. He provides structure. He protects the marriage, plans for our future, keeps himself fit, disciplined, and desirable. And I owe him the same seriousness in return — my body cared for, my attitude softened, my mouth willing, my attention on him.

That is part of why oral worship matters so much to me. It is not just a sex act. It is a daily refusal to become that cold, withholding, half-hearted wife who makes her husband wait for a joke holiday to receive what should be freely and lovingly given.

I want Mr. Quail to know, in his bones, that he is desired here. Not occasionally. Not reluctantly. Not as a treat.

Giving him oral doesn’t feel like “performing sex” to me anymore. It feels like slipping into one of the deepest forms of service between us.

But I still feel a little jolt of anxiety if I ever catch my mind drifting.

Because somewhere in the back of my body, I remember very clearly what happened the first time he decided to teach me better.

And I’m grateful he did.

[spacedykensfw]

Ok so this porn clip has just . Changed me. Idk why. But. God. The fact she’s clearly signaling to breathe but he’s so close he just ignores her. The hand between her legs. His sounds. Her sounds. It’s been two days and I can’t stop thinking abt it

[notyourniceguy]

This is what we mean when we call you a fleshlight.

[inferiorbeingsformen-deactivate]

this is my absolute favorite. The way he doesn’t let her tap out 😍

[bound-by-the-devil]

Cunt Slaps, but the poor little thing is crying and begging for you to stop. Their cunt is so red and swollen, and each slap has them crying in agony. You can see in their eyes how close to breaking they are, and you won't stop until they are your broken little pet.

[hypnodolls]

How do I (erotically) hypnotize others?

FIRST THINGS FIRST

The first thing (Well… one of the first things) you need to know about hypnosis is that it’s a completely natural state. People enter trances all the time without even realising that’s what’s happening.

Any time you become very focused on something, you’re in some form of hypnosis. It happens when you lose track of time because you’re embroiled in a book. It happens when you feel happy or sad watching a film because you’ve become emotionally invested in it. It happens when you daydream, or when you concentrate hard on study, or play, or you’re doing something complex but familiar that over time has become very natural to you, like driving home, singing along to a song you know well, drawing, writing, or even (if you’re a kinky sort into bondage and rope-play) tying up a loved one. 

Any time you feel like you’re “in the zone”, you’re in some form of natural trance.

Someone that tells you that they’ve never been hypnotized is probably mistaken. Odds are they have been… but not in the way they think hypnosis works. Be gentle when you break this to them. Coming across as wise in the ways of trance will score you brownie points and make it easier to hypnotize your glamorous volunteer later. Coming across as a smug know-it-all will lose you points.

If someone tells you they want to be hypnotized but it “doesn’t work on me”.. or “I can’t be hypnotized”, it might just be that they haven’t met the right hypnotist yet. Everyone can be hypnotized to some degree… it just doesn’t always follow the traditional set of feelings and behaviours outlined by Saturday morning cartoons and campy black and white vampire movies… for some people being in trance is something relaxed and detached… for others, it’s something sensual and erotic… and for others… it can follow the traditional portrayal of being mindless, compelled and mind controlled in exactly the same manner as those old cartoons and movie scenes. Right down to someone becoming your hypnotized zombie slave, intoning “How may I serve you Master / Mistress” any time you snap your fingers in front of their face. 

Because it’s a natural state, very often people don’t realise that they’re even hypnotized. A lot of people expect to feel *very* different once they’re under, and just because they don’t suddenly feel like a zombie, slavegirl or robot, they’ll think that means they’re not under.

The blame for this lies largely with Hollywood.

Classically, (In most movies and TV shows) hypnosis is portrayed as a very unusual and mysterious state of mind, where the person in trance has no awareness or control of what’s going on. They’re often presented as being little more than a puppet or plaything, and the person who’s placed them in trance, (The Vampire, The Svengali, The Stage Magician) has total control of that person’s thoughts, actions and experiences.

Now… this *can* be how hypnosis works. Especially if your subject is attracted to the idea of feeling that way, but for someone who’s just interested in exploring trance itself, and hasn’t come to hypnosis through Hollywood’s or The Jungle Book’s portrayal of hypnosis, rather than blank minded obedience, most people will just feel very very chilled out within trance.

This brings us to the *other* first thing you need to know about hypnosis (I did say there was more than one):

All hypnosis is *Self Hypnosis* to some degree, and how a person will feel in trance depends on what they expect to feel, what they **want** to feel, and who’s hypnotizing them.

This leads us to one of the most important things to bear in mind when you’re hypnotizing someone:

THE BEST TRANCE FOR YOUR SUBJECT

ALWAYS find out from your subject up front what it is she or he wants from the experience.

If your subject just wants to feel relaxed, comfortable, chilled out and safe… there’s not much point in doing an induction with them that focuses on helplessness and loss of control. They’ll become uncomfortable with the ideas you’re presenting them with, they might feel wary, they might feel irritated, they might feel scared, and either way they won’t be engaging with your words, or relaxing effectively.

Equally, if your subject is a kinky so-and-so that *wants* to feel manipulated, helpless, coerced, teased and toyed with, but your induction focuses on feelings of safety and empowerment… they’ll probably find the experience very dry and boring, as a result they won’t engage effectively, as a result, they won’t achieve the kind of trance that you’re both interested in exploring.

ALWAYS tailor the experience to your subject so you can be the hypnotist of their dreams.

Here’s a (none exhaustive) list of possible trance “Flavours”

Safe & Protected

Aroused & Erotic

Blank & Mindless

Dazed & Drugged

Playful & Naughty

Captive & Helpless

Detached & Passive

Disarmed & Seduced

Beautiful & Sensuous

Emotionless & Empty

Empowered & Focused

Submissive & Obedient

Energised & Meditative

Objectified & Impersonal

Brainwashed & Mind Controlled 

Vulnerable & Scared

YOURSELF AS A HYPNOTIST  Speaking of being the hypnotist of their dreams, this brings us to the most important thing to remember about yourself as a hypnotist, and that is:  Confidence is key.  When guiding someone into hypnosis, they need to be relaxed and at ease. If it’s your first time hypnotizing someone and you *tell* them that, then no matter how much they like you, they’re not going to feel particularly confident in your abilities. If you don’t know what you’re doing, or you’re not quite sure of how it works or what will happen and you say any of the following:  “Can I try to hypnotize you?“  “I’ve never done this before…"  “I don’t know if this will work…"  “Sorry, I don’t know what I’m doing…"  “I don’t really know how this works…"  Then you’re pretty much shooting yourself in the foot.  Even if you’re not entirely sure of what you’re doing, what direction things are going to go in, or whether or not it’ll work, you need to present a confident face to your subject. This puts them at ease and creates the expectation that everything will be going swimmingly.  Using words and phrases like “Try” “Unsure” “Sorry” “Don’t know” “Never” and “Newbie” will kill any confidence in it working.  Alternately, if you say any of the following:  “Would you let me hypnotize you?“  “It’s easy, you get hypnotized often without realising anyway"  “You like feeling helpless? Well you’ll find trance *deliciously* helpless"  “You like feeling relaxed? You’ll find this more relaxing than anything!“  “After you’ve been hypnotized, you’ll feel like you’ve had the best sleep"  “In trance you’ll feel all your favourite things."  You’re creating the expectation that not only is this going to work, but it’s going to be deeply enjoyable for your subject.  There’s actually some NLP (Neuro Linguistic Progamming) in there. That’s not something I’ve studied it in any great depth, but in essence you’re using predictive language to create assumptions and shape expectation. In the examples above, you’re basically telling your subject that:  a) This is going to work.  b) It’s going to be very enjoyable.  c) I’m very confident that it’ll work (So you should be confident in that too.)  Simple, right?  Speaking of "Right?” that’s another thing.  TRICKS OF THE TRADE  If you can get your subject to agree to you several times, that places them in a more acceptant, agreeable and directable mindset. If you get them to say “Yes” three times, that naturally places people in a state where they’re more likely to continue agreeing.  This is why it’s important to build trust and rapport with your subject. If you know up front that your subject wants to feel enchanted and intoxicated… but doesn’t want to feel *too* out of control or sexual, then you can build the start of your induction out of ingredients that you already know.  Hypnotist: Would you like me to hypnotize you now?  Subject: Yes okay.  Hypnotist: And you’re happy to feel enchanted, a little dazed, and intoxicated, right?  Subject: Yes.  Hypnotist: But you don’t want to dance around naked *just* yet… right?  Subject: Heh, right.  Even though in the example above, something has been presented that the subject might not be keen on (dancing around naked), it’s been highlighted as something they *won’t* be doing (making them feel happier), a joke’s been made about it (making them feel amused and comfortable) and they’ve still followed up the question with an affirmation, right? ;)  “Right?"  "Yes?"  "D'you follow?"  "Are you with me?"  Are all phrases that invite agreement from the subject. Society and language being what they are, many english speaking people have been trained to agree in response before they’ve even analysed what it is they’re agreeing to.  Anyway. You’ve discussed with your subject what they want from trance and how they want it to feel. You’ve hopefully put them at ease by making it clear the trance you’ll be doing with them is tailored to their own specific interests. Now how do you begin?  Again you need to tailor your induction to your subject.  THE INDUCTION  Back to the trance flavours above. Once you’re ready to begin hypnotizing your subject, try to use language that reflects their chosen flavour. If they want to feel dominated and overpowered: be dark and dominant. If they want to feel safe, be reassuring and calming. If they want to feel objectified: talk at them like they’re an obedient thing before they’re a person. You’ll find you have much more success that way than if you use the same induction on *everyone.* 

Do they want background music? Put some on.

Do they like the idea of focusing on a pendant, or crystal? Get one.

Are pendants a little too cliché? Use a candle instead.

Is the idea of focusing on *anything* like that kinda laughable? Just have them close their eyes.

Are they a visual person? Describe a relaxing scene.

Are they more tactile? Describe enjoyable sensations.

Do they want helplessness? Describe a bondage scenario.

Do they want relaxation? Describe a beach or a warm bath.  I’m assuming first time round you’ll be doing some form of progressive relaxation with your subject. It’s not too flashy, but it’s what a lot of people expect. (Though if your subject **expects** a rapid instant SLEEP induction, then by all means, do that with them!)  Spend about 5-10 minutes talking softly to your subject, guiding them and relaxing them as much as possible.   You might notice them twitch a little (a sign the muscles are relaxing)  You might notice their eyelids flickering (a sign in some of entering trance)  They might grow totally still and limp.  They *might* be kind of a fidget (annoying, sure, but not everyone will immediately go into deep comatose states.) 

HOW DEEPLY HYPNOTIZED ARE THEY?  In the early stages of trance, a person feels disarmed and agreeable. After a hypnotic stageshow in which they were lightly hypnotized, they might carry out every suggestion they’re given, but come away from the stage saying "I was just playing along. I don’t think I was *really* hypnotized"  In medium states of hypnosis, people feel very focused and involved. They’ll say after the show that whilst perhaps they knew they weren’t *really* Lady Gaga, they kinda felt like they *had* to dance and act like her whenever they heard a hypnotic trigger or piece of music.  In deep states of hypnosis, people can feel so enchanted and hypnotized that they believe almost everything they’re told (within reason). After the show they’re likely to admit to believing for a while that they *were* Lady Gaga, that the audience were totally naked, or that they firmly believed that the hypnotist was the cutest guy they’d ever met. 

GETTING THEM DEEPER 

There are lots of tricks you can use to get a subject’s trance deeper. 

One tool is "Fractionation”. This is using contrasting states to deepen the level of trance. 

For example… 

I often have my subjects picture a scale from 0 to 10. 

0 is wide awake, full of energy and bouncing off the walls.  10 being totally enchanted, obedient in every way. 

(Or whatever analogue fits their preferred flavour.) 

If my subject says she’s at a 5 or 6, I’ll ask her to allow herself to drop to their deepest level of relaxation every time I say “Sleep" 

Then I’ll tell her she can easily follow my words into or out of trance. To begin with, I might start counting them out of trance, counting fairly quickly from 5 to 1, then telling them that at 1 they feel more or less awake… the only difference being that they’re calm, and still, and their eyes are closed. 

Demonstrating that trance is easy to come out of by following my words naturally creates the counter belief that trance is easy to get into by following my words deeper. 

Then I’ll say "Sleep” and tell them to notice that they’ve gone from almost awake… to very very calm and still.  

Do this a few times, counting near 0 and telling your subject that she can move and stretch and open her eyes and smile… then telling her to “SLEEP” and telling her that she’s too calm, too dreamy, too dazed and too still to do anything but breathe, relax and follow. 

If your subject likes the idea of feeling helpless, you could initially place control over their depth with them, telling them that as they count, they take themselves deeper or bring themselves out of trance. If this works, you can then tell your subject that they *can’t* bring themselves out now, and that any attempts to do so only take them deeper. 

(Be aware, you should only use this particular method on someone who *likes* the idea of being locked helplessly in trance.) 

SUGGESTIONS AND DEPTH  In a light state of hypnosis, you can affect someone’s behaviour.  In a medium state, you can affect their memories and drives.  In deeper states, you can affect their senses and experiences.  In order to build depth throughout your sessions, with most subjects you’ll want to start at the lighter end of the spectrum, as opposed to immediately aiming for deep and potent suggestions.  Light Suggestions

You’re too relaxed to move, trying to move only relaxes you more.

Any time I say something’s “Bound” that part of you will stick in place.

Any time I use the word “SPANK” you’ll slap your own arse.

You have tourette’s syndrome, the moment a rude word enters your mind, you speak it. You deny that this is happening. 

Medium Suggestions

Any time I say the word “Blank” your mind becomes neutral and empty, like your thoughts have slipped out of great.

Your name is forgotten, when you try to say it it’s on the tip of your tongue… but you can’t quite recall it or speak it.

You feel very submissive and obedient.

Any time music plays, you can’t stop yourself dancing.

You’re a nudist. You love being naked. You don’t see the point in clothes.

You’re a slavegirl, you love to obey in every way. 

Deep Suggestions

You’re a rubber sexdolly. All you want to do is be fucked.

Even though you’re nude, you believe that you’re fully dressed.

Any time I use the word “Brink” you’ll come to the edge of orgasm.

Any time I use the word “SPANK” you’ll feel your arse being slapped.

Your clit is turned off, playing with it is about as sexy as playing with your own elbow.

Your clit has been relocated to the tip of your nose, rubbing *that* is now the sexiest thing in the world. 

Use deepeners, stick to your subject’s favoured areas, and work your way down the depth scale and you’ll soon have a subject trained to experience whatever hypnotic phenomena you wish them to feel almost immediately! 

WAKING YOUR SUBJECT

After you’re done playing, in most cases you’ll want to remove the suggestions you gave your volunteer during playtime. Here’s a (paraphrased) wakener that I was introduced to by Rich of UK Southwest Hypnosis:

“5. Rising from trance now. 

4. All suggestions being washed away, returning to normal. 

3. Feeling restored and refreshed. Cleansed by crystal clear spring water.

2. Taking a nice deep breath of energy giving Oxygen. 

1. All heaviness dropping away. Feeling light and wonderful. 

0. Wide awake. Eyes open. Recalling as much or as little of your trance as you like. Feeling great!”

Following that, have a post-trance chat with your subject and make sure they’re feeling good. If they like the idea of forgetting their trance, it might be they don’t even recall that they went under. In most cases people will retain a fair degree of recall though. 

SAFETY

Depending on your subject, hypnosis can be a very powerful tool. As such, you should treat it (and your subject’s mind) with the right amount of respect when you play. You wouldn’t go nuts with a hammer and saw whilst decorating your bedroom, so there’s no reason to go bananas when playing with the mind of a friend or loved one. 

If your subject gets a headache from all the mind fuckery, bring them completely out of trance, (this will usually mean removing all suggestions as you do it.) and take a break. Trance can be a mental workout so it’s not unusual to feel tired or fuzzy after a while. 

A safety suggestion I give most subjects is “If you should receive a suggestion within trance that would endanger you, or seriously upset you, you can easily resist and say "no” to it. Suggestions you like though, you’ll be totally unable to resist.“ Sure this spoils the illusion of being an all powerful hypnobastard a little and makes it clear we’re not going to have our wicked way if that would make our subject uncomfortable… on the other hand, it’s more likely to make them trust going into trance, knowing that they do have that safety net there if they should ever need it. 

Don’t feel like you need to leave your subject with a list of triggers or behaviors to ensure you’ll have full control of them in future. If they want to be controlled by you. They’ll be controlled. If you end up being more possessive than they find comfortable, you’ll creep them out, it doesn’t matter how many times you tell them "You’ll love and obey me and ONLY me” they’ll probably just get uncomfortable. 

Don’t hypnotize pregnant women for none-beneficial, none-therapeutic reasons. (Unborn babies can detect the emotional state of their mother, so it’s unethical to mess with that.)

Don’t perform age regression on someone who you suspect of having a traumatic childhood. 

It’s best not to hypnotize someone with mental health issues who’s currently on medication for it. Trance can be an emotional rollercoaster, and just as you wouldn’t ride a rollercoaster if you had a heart condition, you shouldn’t be experiencing a barrage of hypnotic highs and lows if you’re in a vulnerable mental state. 

If your subject does experience an abreaction (which is a sudden flood of strong and possibly upsetting emotions, sometimes triggered by repressed or unpleasant memories) if possible, tell them you’ll be putting them back into trance briefly, so you can wake them up feeling better. Let them know everything’s fine. Use whatever method you can to get them back into trance then tell them: “On waking, you’re going to be your normal self, feeling refreshed and happy in every way, leaving all negative feelings, worries and sensations behind in trance. If you want to recall and discuss them later you’ll be free to do that. For now though, they’re all melting away, and you’re going to feel totally fine and back to being your normal self when you wake.”

Hope this guide helps you on your way, hypno-fans! 

Enjoy!

Lex

Entrancement / Hypnodolls / Hypnofantastico

[hypnosub1]

#Informative 👍

[bannableoffense-deactivated2018]

this is absolutely brilliant and wonderful.

A+

[girlindenial98]

Thinking about forever being told “No.”

Never being fully satisfied ever again.

Any chance of an orgasm replaced with a ruin instead- close enough to ache, never enough to actually soothe any of it.

I think after long enough denial starts changing the way your brain works.

Starts making you desperate for things you used to take for granted.

A ruin becoming something to cling to because at least it’s something.

And somehow the hottest part is hearing it so casually.

That firm little “No.”

Like it’s obvious. Like there was never any chance of me being allowed to cum in the first place.

Like my body doesn’t belong to me anymore anyway.

Maybe ruins should just become the new definition of orgasms.

Maybe wanting should hurt a lot a little.

Maybe denial should last long enough that the ache never fully goes away 🥺