Hm. There’d be so many ways I could be made to cry, let’s not only narrow it down to one.
Would it be having me bent over the nearest surface maybe even your lap and spanked until those tears start to form?
Would I be tied up all pretty, the ropes hugging into my skin, with a vibrator pressed down onto my clit, taking orgasm after orgasm.. until my eyes are glossy and the pleasure becomes all too much?
Would it be when I’m taking a strap just a little bit too big, and being brought to the edge over and over again, making me so frustrated and worked up that I can’t hold back the pretty tears when I’m denied once again?
So many options, so many choices to pick from. Either way, I’d be begging through the tears,
“Mommy, please. It’s too much, fuck, I can’t take it please Mommy.”
“Please let me cum, Mommy. I’ll behave, please. You’re making me cry, I can’t take another edge.”
Why of course, there are far too many ways to make you cry. Narrowing it down to one seems... sinful, no?
Would it be a slow build up? Would you have pushed every single button you can find, multiple times, peeving and ignoring your warnings? To the point where the command is quiet. The dangerous kind of quiet.
"Strip. Over the table. Now."
Or, would the second warning turn into a fast, rough shove onto the nearest surface? Yanked down into my lap? Hand pushing your head into the table, into the bed. You can't even fight it, can you? Or... won't you?
"So fucking bratty, you just need to be taught a lesson, don't you?" As rough hands pull at your jeans haphazardly. Before you even know what's happening, you feel it on your ass.
Bound and overstimulated?
Would it be a show to watch? Rope and skin, becoming one, as you sit there, helpless and pathetic? Bound so tight you know you'll see those little indents from the kisses of the rope. Vibrator strapped to a boot, you sitting on it pretty, your core becoming rather useless at keeping you upright as you're forced to take orgasm after orgasm after orgasm as you tremble and shake. Bonus if you're paddled every time you break your upright posture. Or... tickled.
What would make you cry harder?
"Aww, look at this pathetic little puppy. Mommy told you to start behaving, didn't she? And what did the dumb puppy do, hm? You didn't listen, did you? Oh, dear. Poor little puppy. You can take one more, for Mommy, can't you? Show her that you've learnt your lesson?" Cooed at, empty promises of "just one more". Except you don't know if it's real or not anymore.
Chin held between the thumb and forefinger, made to keep eye contact as she murmurs, "You're going to take every single fucking orgasm like the little puppy in heat you're acting like. Sit. Up. Straight. Good. Just like that. There we go. Take it."
"It's not too big, little puppy. Mommy knows you're a slut for taking it bigger when you've been misbehaving. That's your way of asking for it, isn't it? Asking to be stretched out, hm? Stretched out and fucked out, puppy. But you don't get to cum. Don't you fucking dare. That's it, oh, biiig stretch. Look at you, hm? You've been such a silly puppy. Oh, it hurts? Good. It's supposed to. Look me in the eye when I make you take me, darling." As a hand wraps around your neck, squeezing oh so deliciously, letting you reach the edge... before she stops. Hand, loose. Equating the pressure building in your head to the pressure building lower. Except, both are ripped away at the last second, every time.
Before the whole process starts again...
How long until you're stretched out, taking the strap easily, desperately, pathetically?
So many maybes, darling little rose.
