just breathe: hold
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Pairing: fem!reader x Robby Summary: Both overwhelmed and needing an outlet from real life, you and Robby enter into an arrangement. Tags: slow burn, explicit bdsm dynamics, paddling, praise kink, vibrator, fingering, objectification, light degradation, reader referred to as “toy” and “slut”, measuring but in a horny way, passive suicidality mentioned, robby very clearly depressed WC: 6.7k a/n: sources can be found in the masterlist. as always DO NOT use this as instructional content.
[Picks up immediately after last chapter ended…]
You weren’t in subspace, but you were floaty and relaxed when Robby gingerly pulled out of you. With careful fingers and soft touches, he began to unravel the rope from your body. It was not until the last strands had fallen away did you realize how much they had kept your mind silent.
The slow act of untying you was just as relaxing as him tying you in the first place. It was the fastest you’d ever felt comfortable in front of someone new. Obviously, this was not due exclusively to him tying you up with blood red, soft rope, but it was not, not that.
When you were free, he inspected your skin, making sure there weren’t any contusions or wounds he had to deal with. He hadn’t hit you that hard, but a good dominant always checks. All the while, telling you what a phenomenal job you had done.
“Do you want to shower or cuddle?” Robby asked.
“Shower,” you said.
He showed you to his en suite and you tried not to stop and stare.
“Holy shit this is a nice bathroom,” you told him. He laughed and turned on the rainfall shower head.
The shower was just as tender and soft spoken as the come down. You’d tied your hair up and away from the water. In response, Robby peppered soft kisses along your shoulders.
“You were so good for me,” he murmured. “How do you feel?”
“Relaxed. I feel like I could take on anything now,” you chuckled.
You had rinsed all the sticky fluid off your body, but Robby had wrapped his arms around your middle, plastering himself to your back. With your fingertips dancing patterns along his forearm, you said,
“How do you feel?”
“Good, great even.”
“I think you did a really wonderful job. You read me really well,” you told him.
His body didn’t react but his voice sounded…perkier when he replied, “Yeah?”
“Your check ins were well timed and your rope work was so good. I haven’t really been tied up like that before and I really enjoyed it. How long did it take you to learn?”
“A couple of years, it was sporadic. I feel like it connects me better with my sub,” he mumbled against your ear.
You’d noticed that Robby liked talking softly right against your ear. Each puff of air sent tingles down your spine.
“Your skills are impressive,” you said. “Can I ask a weird question?”
“Of course,” he said.
“I’m just realizing that I was blindfolded that whole time and never saw your dick. May I?”
Robby paused, frozen against your back. Then he started giggling. Muffling his laughter against your shoulder he nodded.
“Yeah, sure,” he chuckled. “I’m not hard or anything, but you’re always welcome to look.”
You spun around, looking up at him.
“So I could text you for a dirty picture?” You asked cheekily.
“You could ask,” he replied smirking.
He blushed as your eyes raked over his naked form. It’s only fair since he spent the last, nearly three hours, tying you up and staring your naked body. It was hard to keep control of himself—you were gorgeous. Even more so wrapped up like a present in his rope.
“Hot,” you decided.
“What?”
“You’re hot, which I already knew obviously, but it’s nice to confirm.”
“You’re odd,” he laughed.
“Thank you.”
You leaned up and kissed him. He felt any lingering trepidation leak out of him. He spent the rest of shower enjoying your gentle touch. Once you both stepped out and dried off, you allowed Robby to rub your slightly marred skin with a healing balm. And then you slid on your comfy clothes and he pulled you into bed with him.
There was pre-prepped water and snacks that you both enjoyed as you continued the after care.
“You’re very complimentary of me,” Robby said.
“Dom’s need aftercare too,” you said.
“Oh,” he said.
“Oh,” you repeated.
“How did you get into this?” He found himself asking. It was something you hadn’t previously discussed and he didn’t like how your observant eyes studied him.
“I was dating this absolute loser after college. We were both baby engineers and somehow he heard about this sex club. It was back in Philly. I didn’t really want to go watch people having sex but I didn’t want him to break up with me so I went.”
“Sounds like a catch,” Robby replied. You laughed.
“So I went in a simple black mini dress that he asked me to wear—I cringe thinking about that now, but thankfully it was nothing compared to some of the other outfits. He realized it wasn’t just thoughtlessly beating up women for sexual pleasure and bailed, but god I was intrigued,” you continued.
“Please tell me you broke up with him,” Robby said.
“Shut up and let me tell my story,” you grumbled. Robby grinned down at you as he tucked you closer to his body. You really did enjoy cuddling as aftercare. “Anyways, this older woman—well to me back then—came up to me and she was gorgeous. She had on this leather mini dress and was covered in tattoos. She was in her late fifties and to this day one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen.”
“Cougar.”
You rolled your eyes.
“She asked if I was with anyone. I told her I wasn’t anymore—”
“Thank god.”
“—and she asked me questions. Gauged where I was and if I knew whether I wanted to sub or dom, or both. I had no idea, and she asked if I wanted to join her for the night. Her husband was with her, he was locked in a cock cage wearing nothing but a harness. The rest of the night she had be subbing for her and domming her husband. I realized pretty quickly I had no interest in domming.”
“Damn, did you see her again?”
“For the next three years I was their sub. They both dommed me and taught me about healthy BDSM. Safe, sane and consensual. It was a really formative relationship for me. They liked having a pretty young thing to show the ropes and I liked the attention.”
“Do you still talk to them?”
“I do, they’re not active anymore, but they were mentors for me in the BDSM space and in life. They showed me how to invest my money, how to build equity, all this adult shit I had no idea how to do. And they trained me to give a fantastic blowjob.”
Robby couldn’t help the laugh at your last statement. “Have you always been in a dynamic?”
“No, you’re only my fourth—I tend to keep them for a long time. Tammy and Bill were my first, then Oliver, and the last guy was Peter. I’ve had one offs with other people here and there but nothing worth mentioning. How did you fall into it?”
“I did my residency in New Orleans. I got absolutely wasted one night after a terrible shift and drunkenly wandered into a BDSM club. I watched for months before I had the courage to talk to anyone. But I discovered that even a terrible shift was forgettable when I had someone at my feet—metaphorically.”
“Could be literally, if you want,” you replied. He heard the smile in your voice.
“We’ll see. I didn’t do long term subs until my marriage ended. My ex-wife was fine with a one time thing here and there, but didn’t like the idea of something…for lack of a better word exclusive. She never really got it, which is fine. She was a fantastic partner, so it was something I was more than happy to compromise on. While we were together I probably only did five or six scenes over ten years.”
“I think it is hard for people not in the life to fathom how this isn’t romantic, or doesn’t have to be. But I can see the intimacy being threatening.”
“I think that’s it. She was never interested in the more extreme versions of my proclivities but she did like being tied up, so it’s not like we weren’t compatible.”
You snorted.
“After we divorced I dove head first back in. The club had changed but not so much I couldn’t find my way around. I’ve had two subs since, both men. I hadn’t realized until after our marriage I wasn’t as straight as I thought.”
“And now here we are.”
“Here we are.”
“Still want to keep going?”
“Desperately.”
-- -- --
It was easy to slip into a regular dynamic with Robby. You both met up a few times a month depending on stress, work, and desire. He was attentive, inquisitive and clear with his language. You liked him a lot. Sometimes he would text you after a rough shift and if you were available you’d come over and he would turn you into a wobbly pile of limbs on his bed (or couch, or floor). One time you asked about it—what his bad days looked like—and he got a far away look that troubled you.
You didn’t ask again.
There were pieces of evidence floating around that Robby was depressed; it wasn’t hard once you started to notice. Even in your shallow yet intimate relationship, it was hard to for him to fully hide the impact his job had on his psyche. He rarely talked about his personal life (not that you did either, but you hinted at having one).
The light conversation you both had during aftercare had much more to do with whatever stupid television show you were watching or the new vinyl Robby found over the weekend. Neither of you spoke about work or personal details. It hadn’t been explicitly outlined in your contract but it felt unassailable.
A few months in, after a particularly brutal spanking session, aftercare looked like laying on Robby’s couch on your stomach in a big tshirt while he rubbed a soothing balm on your ass and thighs. Your body was draped over his lap and the circular motion of his hands felt relaxing and calming.
“You could have been a masseuse,” you hummed, a little sleepy.
“Maybe a better career choice,” he laughed.
The TV was on, showing some sitcom neither of you were watching, but the background noise was welcomed. You had known that Robby was having a rough week by the way he held his body. Now, sitting on the couch, he seemed to relax. Most meet ups, you didn’t broach the topic of your jobs, an unspoken agreement. But you found yourself wanting to make him laugh. You wanted to make him smile. You cared about this strange, slightly broken man.
“We hired a new admin assistant for my team a couple weeks ago,” you said without looking back at Robby.
His strong fingers eased over your sore, bruised skin.
“Oh?”
“She’s an idiot,” you sighed. Robby choked on a laugh.
“That’s mean,” he said.
“Robby, babe, she asked me what timezone we’re in.”
“Are your clients in a different timezone?”
“Our clients are down the street,” you replied.
Robby chuckled. “And so you needed to come to me to forget about how incompetent she is?”
“More like how incompetent everyone I work with is,” you grumbled. “I visited the solar farm we’re working on and the welding on some of the steel supports were abysmal. I had half a mind to re-do them myself.”
“You can weld?”
“I can do a lot of things. I don’t do much hands on work anymore, but I still fabricate shit as a hobby. You know, in between getting tied up in your bedroom and cumming so hard I almost pass out.”
“You really made me panic,” he grumbled. You had gone a little non-responsive after your third orgasm of the day.
“Sorry, I’m good. I promise. You were so good to me,” you told him gently. “But yes, I build things.”
“What was the last thing you built?”
“A bookcase for my nephew,” you said. “I want to get into metal work again, but I don’t have a project idea.”
“Have you built anything for your kink stuff?” He asked. There was a tone you couldn’t exactly put your finger on but it was slightly more than intrigued.
“Actually, I haven’t. Did you have something in mind?”
“I think I do actually. But I need to think about it more before I pitch it,” he told you.
“Well, let me know,” you said.
“Do you want ice for you ass?”
“Actually, that would be amazing, yes please.”
And so he went to get ice.
The rest of the afternoon was spent relaxing (either on your stomach or side) on the couch with Robby watching through Parks and Rec. Though this relationship was going on four months, you still knew very little about Robby and vice versa. In your other dynamics you had becomes friends, or friendly, with the person (or persons) who had you in their bed.
You could list the substantive things you knew about Robby on one hand: (1) he was an emergency medicine doctor, which you knew because you’d seen his name tag; (2) he used to live in New Orleans at some point; (3) he liked sitcoms; (4) he lived in Squirrell Hill.
There were other things you knew about him, like his clear communication about sex and his proclivity for tying you to the ceiling. You suspected based on a preponderance of evidence that he was a commitment-phobe, likely burned out, and not someone you would willingly attach yourself to long term.
He might be a good scene partner, but you doubted he could handle a conversation about emotions. Though, you couldn’t blame him—or anyone else in his position—you doubted you’d have the emotional energy to be a present and useful partner in his shoes.
So Robby had all the hallmarks of a good dom, but almost none of a good partner. It made it easy to not fall in love with him.
-- -- --
Robby for his part, thought he had hit the jackpot. You were just as busy as he was, though far less passively suicidal. Every once in awhile you had the wherewithal for a spontaneous meet up, but most of the time your meetings were scheduled and planned. For a few hours Robby would dole out creative and pleasurable tourtuew and then the pair of you would spend another couple hours cuddling, eating and watching stupid TV together.
Occasionally you would share stories about your job as an environmental development engineer. He liked hearing about your job. It was simple and if something went wrong, it was rare that a client or coworker died. You mainly designed and improved on solar panels and solar technology.
He found himself envious of the love for your job, though he kept that to himself. He wondered what it was like to not chain himself to his career as the thing keeping him alive but also killing him. When he was with you, time dilated. It neither passed nor paused. For the time that you inhabited his house it was just the two of you.
His world narrowed down to you. To your reactions. To your limits. To pleasing you. To challenging and taunting you until you were putty beneath his hands. It was like meditation and he yearned for nothing more than to focus solely on you. The scenes you both shared were becoming the single thing he looked forward to every few weeks.
The urge to no longer exist was still pulling at his gut. The quiet hope that maybe one day he wouldn’t wake up in morning still gnawed at him. But like with his other dynamics, there was a responsibility to you now. It wasn’t keeping him alive, per se. (No more than his residents or Jack or Dana). It was one thing that he just didn’t want to deal with the consequences of ending and/or dying.
He was too tired to kill himself, frankly.
Every couple of weeks there were a few hours in which he didn’t feel tired. He didn’t feel the drag of the death he had witnessed and caused. Logically, he knew it was the endorphins and hormones overpowering whatever the fuck was wrong with him, but understanding it didn’t negate its effects.
And sure, Caleb or his fourth (fifth?) therapist might have something to say regarding the desperate need for control, but they weren’t here.
You were here, though. And every time you were here, the world seemed just a little less heavy.
-- -- --
Robby had sent you a terrible stick drawing of a metal contraption simply asking if you thought you could make it. It was a bench, basically. He had added strange lines to suggest what might have been a torso support of some kind, but definitely a metal neck collar. The idea was attractive—most likely would be easy-ish to fabricate. You had the welding materials in your garage. All you really needed was the metal and proportions.
Despite the high degree of intelligence that being a doctor required, Robby’s drawing wasn’t exactly helpful when designing measurements and plans. When you were (lightly) complaining about it, you watched his eyes light up in the way they did when he was planning to put you through something devious.
It’s how you ended up on Robby’s—very nice and sturdy (maybe you should ask him where he got it) coffee table. According to him, the height of the table combined with your proportions were perfect for him to fuck your pussy or mouth. You directed each each measurement. Telling Robby how to get measurements for the fabrications of a sex bench shouldn’t have been as enticing as it was.
You were naked, of course, wearing Robby’s favorite chest harness tie as a adornment on you. He loved the contrast of the red rope against your skin. Oftentimes, you felt his fingers trailing over the rope work and your hypersensitive skin. The moment he began to wrap the soft rope around you, it was like a switch flipped. No longer were you the competent and forthright woman you’d molded yourself to be.
No, you were a simple toy. Meant to be used and enjoyed however Robby saw fit. However your Sir, saw fit.
“What’s next?” He asked gently trailing his fingers over your bare form displayed upon the coffee table.
You weren’t allowed to move. Only Robby had the tape measure and a pen. More than once you felt the pen write something on your body and you were desperate to know what it was. When you asked what they said, Robby replied:
“I didn’t know my toy could read.”
The humiliation and objectification coursed through you and you felt the arousal dripping down your thighs. Fuck he was good at this, that bastard.
“Please measure from the floor to the hollow of my neck, sir. This is the last one,” you said shakily.
“Shame,” he hummed.
The feeling of Robby bringing the tape measure to your neck shouldn’t have been making you tremble, but it felt so…removed from real life. It felt like he was measuring his toy, and in a way, he was.
“Do you have any more requests sir?” You asked.
“Can I watch?” He asked.
“What?”
You were confused. He was already watching you.
“When you make the bench. Can I watch?”
“Sir, it won’t be…sexy,” you settled with saying.
To your shock, Robby gripped your hair and pulled your head back so you were looking at him. The shaking in your muscles intensified purely from his fiery glare alone. This was one of your favorite parts of scenes. Each action Robby took made your body tremble. The adrenaline coursing through you made everything that much more intense. You were certain he could dissolve you into a quivering ball at his feet if he glared at you long enough.
“It sounds like my toy is trying to dictate how I should play with her, is that what’s happening right now?”
“No sir!” You said panicking. “I just want sir to know that because of the safety gear, there’s not much to look at.”
“How embarrassing for you,” he cooed. “To think I only care about watching your naked body. I think you earned a punishment.”
“Yes sir,” you said. You didn’t haven’t time to think about the meaning of his words fully.
“I’m going to paddle you, using the wooden one with the holes,” he said. Shit, that one hurt so much more than the solid wood paddle. Fucking physics. “And after each hit you’re going to say something positive about yourself until I’m content.”
“Sir,” you tried to protest.
“Don’t talk back again,” he hissed, getting in your face. “For that, I think you’ll wear the nipple clamps. Tell me toy, should you wear weights on your nipples?”
Nipple clamps were not your favorite toy. There was a very fine line between fun and tremendously painful and distracting. You had no idea which Robby wanted. And yet, the idea of the swinging pendulum of weight pulling at your sensitive tits made the already painful spanking sound unforgettable.
“Sir should play with his toy however he wants,” you replied.
“Good girl,” he said softly. His large, warm hand cupped your cheek and you leaned into his touch. “I knew you were able to learn.”
The narrow line Robby walked between degrading and praising you gave you whiplash. It pushed and pulled against your ribs, throwing you off kilter and yet desperate for more. Each condescending remark made you more desperate to please him. Each praise motivated you and kept you warm, until the next mistake, that is.
“Thank you, sir,” you managed.
“Remember, safe word whenever you need,” he told you seriously.
“I will,” you replied back, just as serious. And you would. Robby couldn’t fulfill his portion of the arrangement without total trust that you would tell him when you couldn’t take any more.
“I think you’ve been good enough to wear the weights only some of the time,” he said. “Should you start or end with them?”
You opened your mouth to reply, but he cut you off and said,
“You’re right. You should end with them.”
That bastard. That was so much worse and he knew it.
“Whatever will make sir happy,” you said trying to keep the frustration and anxiety out of your voice.
“You’re so beautiful when you take my pain,” he whispered. He walked out of the room to grab whatever else he needed before you could respond.
You were not attached the coffee table in anyway, and prior to putting you on your hands and knees, Robby had laid down a thick non slip pad that felt like a yoga mat of some kind. While you were not comfortable, you were certainly not in pain. But you knew he hadn’t given you permission to move so you did not.
When Robby returned, you expected him to blindfold you. Instead he made you watch in trepidation as he attached the clover clamps to your nipples. Each closure around your sensitive skin made you gasp. The ghost of the fan above you was already making the metal sway. You could feel the pain began to build—each heartbeat felt in your tits and pussy. Exactly what Robby wanted.
“Remember, one positive thing about yourself.”
You half expected Robby to warm up, but the first hit crashed against your skin without any modicum of hesitancy or easement into the punishment. It was still a heavy wooden paddle, so it thudded against your ass but the holes drilled into the torture device meant there was less air pressure to cushion the impact.
“Shit! Fuck!” You exclaimed as the hit propelled you forward.
The swinging of the unweighted chain pinched at your already sore nipples and you winced. Christ, this was brutal. And yet, you wanted another hit. You yearned for Robby to see how hard you worked for him. For him to reward you with the same fervor with which he punished.
“Color?” He asked.
“Green,” you said, swallowing. Your heaving chest was not helping the pull of the chain on your nipples.
“One positive thing,” he prompted.
“I’m smart,” you managed.
Robby was standing behind you while you faced towards the large windows in his living room. Your play sessions often started mid morning and with the aftercare ending mid-evening. It meant that the bright sun was shining through his windows that overlooked the busy street he lived on. You knew no one could see into the window, yet the privacy film that blocked you from view allowed your nearly unobstructed view of passersby.
Robby must have caught your gaze and he leaned down next your ear before quietly saying,
“What do you think they would do if they saw you? If they saw how debauched my toy was after a little pain. Would they judge you for how you’re absolutely dripping right now?” He taunted.
As if to prove his point, he forcefully shoved two fingers inside you. You swayed with the intrusion, fluttering around the contact—desperate for him to finger you, to do anything that might alleviate the need battering against your sensitive walls. Languidly, he pumped his fingers inside you, before yanking them out. You whined at the emptiness that followed.
“Suck,” he commanded. Like a good toy, you opened your mouth automatically without even seeing him approach or kneel in front of you.
You already felt floaty and hazy. Most of the time you didn’t want to end up in subspace, you hadn’t been playing long enough with Robby yet for your body and mind to feel fully comfortable in letting go. But sucking your arousal off his index and middle finger, staring glassily into his ravenous gaze, the tenuous grip you had on your mind began to slip.
“Are fading, toy?” Robby asked. Later you would recognize a hint concern in his voice.
“Yes sir, I’m green,” you said. “Please keep going.”
Robby studied you for a minute longer before gently kissing your lips. A soft tug on the chain between your tits reminded you of the aching throb that was your constant companion.
“Such a good slut,” he murmured.
There was a high pitch whine that you belated realized came from you.
“Does my toy like being a slut for me?” Robby asked, sounding surprised.
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re doing so well for me,” he continued. “You exist to be used by me.”
You shivered as his words soaked in through your ears and under your skin. You did belong to him. You did want to please him. You yearned for the pain of the paddle, to feel him touch you again.
“We haven’t talked enough about the degradation, but if my toy wants to be a good slut for me next time, I think we can manage that,” he nearly whispered rubbing his hand against your already warming and sore ass. “Ready for your next one?”
“Yes si—oh fuck!” You exclaimed as the paddle connected with your upper thighs this time.
The pain was intense and tears began to prick at your eyes.
“I am a good friend,” you sniffled.
“Of course you are,” Robby said soothing the sting of the paddle. “My toy is such a good person.”
The pressure around your eyes began to build.
Each hit bled together until it felt like the skin on your ass and thighs were raw. You were actively crying now. For scenes you always wore water soluble mascara because you knew how much Robby loved seeing tear streaks down your face.
“Oh my little toy,” cooed Robby. “You look so pretty crying for me.”
“Thank you, sir,” you sniffled. The floaty feeling had receded some with the intense pain, but at his words you could feel it ebbing closer to the forefront.
“I think you’ve been such a good girl, that we can be done with the paddle.”
“Thank you, sir. You’re so good to your toy,” you whispered hoarsely.
“I’m still adding the weights though,” he added as an after thought.
Before you could process the words, he hooked two small dense metal balls to the end of each clamp. You groaned and let your head drop.
“Haven’t I been good to you, today?” Robby asked.
“Yes sir,” you said, voice trembling.
“How about you put your mouth to good use and duck my dick?” Robby asked at the same time as he flicked the weights on your nipples.
Fresh tears rolled down your face as you nearly shrieked at the sensation.
“Yellow,” you gasped, desperately trying to catch your breath. “I can’t do the clamps.”
“Okay,” Robby said, quickly kneeling before you. “Do you want to end the scene?”
“No, I just need them off,” you gasped.
Gently, Robby unhooked each weight setting them aside. Then he gently unclamped each metal contraption allowing a rush of blood to return eliciting a sharp and keening sound from your throat.
“There you go,” Robby comforted. “Take a few deep breaths for me.”
You did, mimicking his intentional inhales and exhales.
“Still good?”
“Yes sir.”
“Proud of you for using your safe word,” he replied. His accompanying kiss to your forehead eased the remaining tension in your back as he stood. “Color?”
“Green,” you acknowledged. “Can your toy suck your dick, sir? You’ve been so good to her.”
“How polite,” Robby said, shucking off his shirt. Once his pants were unbuttoned, and boxers pulled down, you didn’t wait for permission.
You’d likely be punished for it later, but the only thought that didn’t float away as soon as it appeared was the desire to swallow Robby down and make him feel as good as you felt. If his punched out groan had anything to say about it, you were successful.
You didn’t often compare dicks—everyone you had played with knew exactly how to use whatever size and girth they were endowed with. Robby was no exception. No matter what position he fucked you in or how long he had played with you before, he always managed to make each thrust feel like magic.
It was skillful the ways in which he managed to flex his hips to hit every spot that made stars dance behind your eyelids.
When he fucked your face…that was when you felt how he overwhelmed your mouth, making your jaw ache as you worked to stay open wide enough. The warm and salty feeling of his dick always managed to quiet the cacophony in your brain replacing it with the simple urge to be good for him.
Today was no different. The moment you hollowed out your cheeks to suck on his cock, you forgot about the pain radiating from your nipples and ass. Swirling your tongue around his head, you preened at the way he grunted and twitched under your ministrations.
Then, he pressed deeper. The best way to make you cry was for Robby to gag you on his dick. Not only was it the best way, it was Robby’s favorite way. He loved watched you drool and cry with his dick shoved into your throat.
“Swallow,” he commanded. You did your best, but felt a fresh wave of tears rolling down your face as saliva escaped and trailed down your face. “Look at my messy toy. So good. Made for me. Your throat has me like a vice. Fuck!”
Despite the lack of air, despite the tribulations you’d gone through over the past few hours, you loved hearing him slowly lose his composure because of you. He was the dominant. He controlled you in these moments, but he was just as affected by the way you submitted to him.
“Just for me,” he mumbled, almost to himself. “My toy. I own you.”
You doubled down on rolling your tongue on the underside of his cock, trying to focus on the sensitive underside of his head while swallowing him further down your throat.
“You’re so desperate for me. I’ll bet you’re soaked,” he continued. “My perfect little toy, getting so turned on by the sheer act of me using her. Do you like being used as my toy?”
You tried to nod, but his cock was spearing you so effectively, you could barely do more than accept his thrusts.
“You’d let me do anything to you,” he added. It was one of your favorite things he said. The idea that he would use and use and use you until you were nothing more than a set of holes for him to play with and put away when done.
“You’d let me hold you while I came down your throat,” he grunted.
In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.
All that existed was Robby using you. All that existed was your body for him.
In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.
You were made to make him feel good. You were made to be fucked by him.
In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.
You could feel the strain on your body, shaking as each brutish thrust sent shockwaves through your bones. Each ruthless press of his dick against your throat elicited a new wave of wetness pouring down your thighs.
In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.
There was hardly a you anymore. Just the singular goal to make sure Robby felt good. To be a good toy for him.
In. Out. In. Out…
Grabbing the back of your head, Robby held you flush against his pelvis while he shot load after load of his cum down your throat. Most of which you couldn’t swallow so it poured out of your mouth making a disgusting mess that Robby seemed to thrive on.
“What a dirty slut,” he grunted finally pulling out of your mouth.
You coughed and blinked away watery tears before realizing he wasn’t in front of you anymore. It was like you had developed a sixth sense for him and felt him circle you, a predator stalking his prey.
“How about a change of position?” Asked Robby.
“Yes sir,” you replied, sore throat and hoarse after his delicious abuse.
He helped you off the table and into a standing position. Your limbs were still shaking, either from the long time in one position or the intensity by which Robby manhandled you. He sat on the couch and pulled you into his lap, your back to his chest. With strong hands, he pulled your legs to either side of his, so he held you wide open.
The only thing that your fuzzy brain could focus on was how his skin felt against yours. His warmth seeped into your bones and you felt yourself droop against him.
A sharp slap to your still sore nipple made you gasp and arch away from him.
“You’re not done yet, toy,” Robby said. “You know how I love to make you cum after denying you for so long.”
Despite his words, his hands ran up the curves of your body until he began roughly kneading your tits making you wince and wiggle in his embrace. Soft winces and groans were the soundtrack to his actions. He whispered debauched things as he continued to knead and pull at your tits.
“Such a pretty display.”
“You love being my toy, don’t you?”
“You’re such a mess.”
“Think about all those people outside. What would they think if they saw my slutty little toy?”
“Do you want to cum?” He asked.
You couldn’t respond. All you could do was lay victim to his actions. Each sensation echoed through your arms, legs, throat. You throbbed with need. Need for any attention he’d dole out to you.
“Is my little toy blissed out?” He crooned. “I think she deserves to feel good. Hook your legs around mine.”
Without telling your body to move, you hooked your ankles around his calves. Then, to your surprise, he pushed you face first into the floor so your were face down, ass up, legs trapped so you couldn’t move, giving him a clear view of your cunt.
“If you move cum without permission, I’ll make you regret it,” he snapped savagely.
“Yes sir,” you said muffled by the carpet. Your arms didn’t seem to be working.
Robby ran a single finger up and down your soaking folds. There was hardly any friction as you were soaked.
“So wet,” Robby said, sounding almost awed. Without warning he plunged two fingers into you.
You were cocooned in an overwhelming feeling of rightness. This is what you were made for. To be a toy. To be wet and ready.
Two fingers turned into three and turned into four. You felt so full. Full of Robby. Full of purpose.
When the vibrator touched your clit, you spasmed violently, held only in place by gravity and Robby’s leg lock.
“There she is. There’s my responsive toy.”
Each thrust from his fingers catapulted you closer to the edge. You tried to say something. To warn Robby. To beg to cum. But as soon as you had the thought…
Overwhelming bliss.
You heard a distant shriek and your hips bucked against Robby as you came. His fingers never stopped and neither did the vibrator. Sharp white motes of pleasure arced through your body. You could tell you were shaking in Robby’s grasp but nothing was solid enough for you to hold on to.
It was like you were watching yourself from outside you body. Everything surely took place in your mind’s eye, but you felt and saw the voracious look on Robby’s face as he made you tremble for him. You were out of body, watching the man behind you destroy it in the best way.
Once you had sagged, still face first on the ground while Robby was four fingers deep in your cunt, he pulled the vibrator away and each of your locked muscles relaxed.
“Fucking beautiful,” he said. “Let’s get you up.”
One moment you were on the ground, the next you were curled in Robby’s lap as he stroked your back soothingly. He began to undo the chest harness. Time had truly ceased to exist. You still shivered against him, your body desperately trying to reach some kind of equilibrium after the intensity. Robby was murmuring praise and encouragement in your ear while you began to get control back of your body.
When you finally shifted on your own, Robby said,
“Thank god, I thought I broke you.”
“Not broken,” you managed. Your throat was still sore and you still were having a hard time concocting fully sentences. Instead of trying, you nuzzled against Robby’s neck enjoying the sensation of his beard against your skin.
There was a brief jostle and then you felt a blanket draped over you both. He held you tightly as your body calmed down. When the shaking finally stopped you were boneless, exhausted and ready to take a nap.
“How are you feeling?” Robby asked.
“Exhausted,” you whined. “That was crazy.”
“Bad crazy?”
“Absolutely not. I just don’t have words right now.”
“Let’s get cleaned up and some food in you and then see how you feel.”
Robby helped you stand and you both walked to his bathroom. You had to lean against the wall while Robby rinsed you off and gently cleaned you with a rag and body wash. Slowly, you managed to continue rinsing off your minimal make up and tear stain. Then you burrowed yourself back into Robby's grasp.
“Sorry, feeling needy,” you mumbled against his skin.
“Don’t apologize,” he replied just as soft.
Time again, didn’t feel solid enough for you to perceive but at some point, Robby pulled your spaced out body from under the water and dried you off with a fluffy towel. While you were standing, he rubbed the spanking salve over your ass and thighs, soothing the ache you barely felt.
Then, tucked into him on the couch he said: “I’m going to order the pizza. Sleep. I’ll wake you up when food gets here.”
“You’re so good to me,” is what you tried to say, but only managed:
“You’re so good…”
You had already fallen asleep and couldn’t see Robby’s full body blush and near panic stricken face at your words.
It wasn’t that you had said the words or he had interpreted them to mean something they did not. No, Robby just couldn’t fathom anyone stringing those words together in reference to him. You didn’t know anything about his life and yet he felt his inadequacies oozing from every pore in his body. If he were a better man, he wouldn’t tarnish anyone like this.
You were curled into his side, eyes shut and completely vulnerable. For some reason, you trusted him with such intimacies. He knew that he was responsible. He was not taking risks with your safety. With you, he was at peace for some of the only moments of his week.
He physically shook his head, rubbing the still damp hair at the back of his head. He promised you food, and he knew he couldn’t fuck that up. (Probably.)
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dividers by @/uzmacchiato
