rope marks, please

pebble; shaped by gentle hands and rough storms this is all fantasy, fucked up fantasy, but still fantasy queer, married, poly, she/they/he/it, 1990s 18+ ONLY | minors dni

[watersmoothstones]

i want to be fisted open after you’ve already fucked me for an hour or more. after you’ve already cum inside me as many times as you wanted. your dick is sated, and this is all just for play. because you can. because my pussy is yours. i want to scream and squirm, over sensitive and sore, as you work your knuckles, then your palm into my red, puffy, cum-filled cunt. i want you to not care if i come on your fist, only to care that you can make your fist fit. i want you to hold my legs down as you punch in and out of me until the widest part of your hand moves easily through my wrecked hole. i want you to tug and pinch at my swollen pussy lips, flick my throbbing clit, and fuck me with your fist until i’m sobbing and gaping wide. take a picture. jerk off into my ruined hole, and take another. play with my cunt like it’s just another stim toy as i writhe and beg and soak the sheets with my tears. see how wide you can spread your fingers inside me. then see if you can fit the other hand, too

[watersmoothstones]

i want my owner to tie my legs spread wide and shave my cunt with a straight razor. i don’t even want to be shaved, but they want it; they want the closest shave possible. so i have to lay there and try not to move if i don’t want to be cut

[watersmoothstones]

captor who films my face as he violates me, records my voice as he makes me cum and cry, and posts it all online with my missing persons poster as the thumbnail and the tag #.proofoflife

[watersmoothstones]

can’t decide which end of the baseball bat i’m more afraid of. the wider end that stretches my cunt beyond reason, hard and unyielding as i clench and come around it. or the handle end, which is smaller, but has that brutal lip that is fucked deep into me until i come hard enough and enough times that my entrance has to stretch open again to let it out. 

[watersmoothstones]

We need to bring the horror back into sex demons. Like yeah that succubus is going to fuck you exactly how you want. She’s gonna look inside your mind, find your deepest, darkest desires, and drag them into the light with you kicking and screaming and coming all the way. and when she takes your fantasies from you one by one, bringing them to life in the harsh light of reality, you’re going to lose yourself, your soul, inch by inch, in perfect pain and perfect pleasure. And when she’s done wrecking you in every possible way, is there even a you left? could the mewling, leaking, empty thing she made of you be considered human? or are you just a doll now, something for her to tire of and discard. if you’re very lucky, she might use you as a prop as she twists and takes some new victim’s fantasies. a tool of her pleasure and cruelty. an object, waiting, lonely and broken, on her shelf. 

[watersmoothstones]

mouth forced open with a spider gag, tongue held out of the way with forceps, your gloved hand fingering my throat until i no longer have a gag reflex

[watersmoothstones]

magic portal fleshlight but it's tied to someone else's pussy and you've stuffed it in my stretched out cunt just to hold while the other person gets to feel everything

[watersmoothstones]

I was still resistant, not understanding my place, my captor said. So she bound my wrists behind my back, held me down on her cock, and had her friend pierce my nipples. When it was done and my tits we’re sore and swollen, she bent me over, fucking me hard, new piercings swinging with every thrust, and made me come and squirt at her friend’s feet. 

[watersmoothstones]

captor who lays me out and ties me up in front of several cameras so he can set up a multi-angle livestream as he stretches my cunt out around the wide end of a baseball bat

[watersmoothstones]

tongue piercing as a punishment for talking back. 

[watersmoothstones]

missionary but there’s a towel over my face and you keep pouring ice-cold water over it so my whole body spasms around your dick in my panic as i struggle and fail to take in another breath

[watersmoothstones]

thinking about forced piercings. not just the pain of the piercing as some kind of punishment, but the following days, weeks, months of aftercare and maintenance as the piercing heals. the imposed cleanings, my hands bound so i don’t remove the unwanted jewelry, my whole body bound if i try to agitate it. submitting to the softness of their hands and the idea that they can be gentle when they want to be, matched against the brutality they mete against the rest of me. finally healing enough to change the jewelry, only to start it all over again on the other side or the next spot. 

[watersmoothstones]

stretch me out on your cock, too dry, too big, stick four fingers in my mouth, and slap me over and over until you come from the way i clench around you when i cry

[watersmoothstones]

It took so much time and effort to stretch my pussy around your fist that even after you’ve made me come on it twice — screaming and shaking, clit rubbed raw, walls fluttering and clenching around the unyielding shape of your hand — you’re still not done with me. 

I cry when you pull out of my cunt, tremble and sob as your fingers play with the rim of my gaping hole, pinching and stretching and fucking in so easily. You’re gonna keep me open, you tell me, and you shove a beer can into my cunt. 

It hurts, but it’s also cool against my overheated flesh. I can feel the beer inside it sloshing around against the thin aluminum sides. 

You pull up my briefs to keep it in place and help me stand. It’s painful, and I can’t walk without waddling around. It’s embarrassing enough with just you there. When your friends start to show up, I can barely meet their eyes. 

You don’t need me to meet their eyes. You turn me around, bend me over whatever’s closest — the kitchen table, the arm of the sofa — pull down my pants and show them the can. They laugh, tapping the top of it, fucking it in and out of me in short, shallow thrusts. My cheeks burn. Tears well in my eyes. 

When all of your friends have arrived, you take me out to the back patio, strip me down, and lay me out on the rough concrete. They tower over me, leering and laughing, drinks in their hands that I should have made but I couldn’t because my hands were so shaky and I could stand up straight enough to reach the liquor cabinet. 

You’re here. Down on your knees with me. You push the beer can back inside me when my pussy tried to force it out. You laugh at me, too, but there’s pride in your eyes when you do. Then you start fucking me. 

The beer sloshes inside the can as you shove it in me, pull it out, and shove it in again. It hurts. It feels so good. My body doesn’t know what to do with it. 

Your friends are still talking and laughing. Somebody has a phone aimed at me, filming. Another crouches down and works my clit. 

Tears spill over. You fuck me harder. Faster. I’m so wet, so needy. You fuck me with this huge thing and I can’t help but love it. Love you for hurting me so exquisitely. 

When I feel my orgasm getting close, I ask, beg you to let me come. You smile, tip my hips up, and say, “yes.” 

The new angle hurts more, feels strange, but doesn’t stop the pleasure. 

When I come, you stop fucking me and I’m confused for a moment at what your hands are doing, until I hear hiss-pop of the can opening. Until I feel the explosion of it, beer and foam spilling over me, over you, over the ground. It’s like I’m squirting, like I’m ejaculating. It covers me. Spattering my chest, dripping from my thighs, pooling on my belly. I understand, now, why you brought us outside. 

It smells like beer. Everything smells like beer. You lick some of it off me. You pull the can out and I scream and you pour the rest of the beer all over me, face and body and cunt. 

You’re covered in it, too. My come. 

You leave me there, lying in the puddle of it, your friends taking pictures and videos. The one whose fingers were on my clit has the same fingers in their mouth, tasting me. 

My cunt feels so empty now. After being so full for so long, it gapes open like it was made to be stretched wide and needs something hard to clench around. Like it’s ruined. It will never be the same again. 

I expected the hose, but not this gentle stream of it. The water is soothing as you clean me, your hands soft against my skin. You warn me before aiming the flow over my face. 

[watersmoothstones]

a conquered princess tied naked and kneeling next to the throne of her enemy, legs spread wide, arms anchored to the floor behind her, torn shreds of her kingdom’s standard stuffed into her mouth and pussy, trying desperately to keep her back straight and proud, to keep her tears from falling down her cheeks

[watersmoothstones]

waking slow and groggy and still a bit drugged to a dozen hands gripping and groping and grabbing my very naked body.

it takes a moment to realize that i’m restrained, wrists and ankles cuffed, that i’m lying on a cold, metal table, that the hands are gloved with nitrile or latex, and the grabbing is actually prodding and poking and probing, measurements called out, pens scratching to write down numbers and observations. the fingers in my mouth are counting my teeth and checking them for major defects. the hand at my throat is measuring the circumference, and then the length, mapping out my arteries and trachea. the hands in most places are accompanied by instruments, whether tapes or rulers or calipers or blood pressure cuffs or whatever it is they’ve forced dry into my cunt to see what it can take without any preparation.

there’s an iv in my arm that i don’t notice until somebody begins measuring my palm and fingers, twisting me this way and that to make it easier on themself. pens scratch against paper as notes are taken, measurements recorded, observations dictated.

when they’re done, they leave all at once, the blinding lights blinking out into utter darkness, but for the tiny red lights on the cameras in all corners of the room, silence in their wake, but for the drip drip drip of the iv bag.

[watersmoothstones]

they start by training my throat.

my head is tipped back and strapped in place, a spider gag spreading my mouth open wide. a metal stand is brought close and a long, smooth, black phallus is installed at the height of my open mouth. the dildo has white markings on it indicating length. it’s slid into my mouth, my tongue pushed out of the way, until my throat seizes around it. they back it out just enough that my gag reflex is triggered only on my inhale, record the measurement, and leave.

i have no way to count time and therefore no way to know how long it takes, but eventually i adjust to the intrusion. my breath no longer stutters, my throat no longer clenches.

the scientists return almost immediately, noting down the time and duration, and then adjusting the phallus again, touching that reflex again, taking the new measurement, and leaving again.

tears and spit cover my cheeks. my cunt is pulsing between my legs. and it all begins again.

at the end of their experiment, when they remove the phallus, they clean my face with gloved hands and clinical efficiency. they don’t tell me the results of their experiment or what will happen next. they just resettle me on the table, check my vitals, my other restraints, turn the lights off, and leave.

[watersmoothstones]

they train my cunt next.

they start with a similar phallus except this one has no length markings. they set it up on a fucking machine and slide it into me dry, my legs spread wide and bound to medical stirrups.

the machine starts and i try not to whine with the pain of it because this time they don’t all leave. one of the white coats drags a chair over next to the machine, a clear view of the phallus thrusting in and out of my pussy. there’s another camera, too, aimed with a similar view but from the other side. the white coat has a clipboard and scratches notes occasionally, alternately fascinated and bored.

eventually the thrusting begins to feel good, easy, pleasurable. but i’ve learned from the throat test and i do my best to keep myself from moaning. from showing any kind of pleasure at the feeling.

it doesn’t matter. the white coat notices too soon and, as i’d feared, stops the machine to switch out this phallus for a wider one. they note the time, the new circumference, and turn the machine on again.

the stretch is just enough to ride the edge between pain and pleasure. i’m so wet that it moves easily, even as i struggle to handle the girth. again, it begins to feel good, so good, and again, the white coat stops the machine, changes the phallus, scratches out notes, and starts the machine again.

it’s not even edging, really. just a continuous stretching, wider and wider, feeling painful and pleasurable all the time, until it’s over. and it’s over remarkably abruptly. the white coat stops the machine, removes the phallus, pulls on fresh gloves to clean me up again, resettles me on the table, and leaves. 

[watersmoothstones]

i wake up bent over a raised table and immediately know they’re training my ass today.

it’s the same as with my pussy, but behind me so i can’t see anything. they use lube this time, to my immense relief, but absolutely nothing about it is pleasurable.

i don’t like anal sex, i’ve never liked it, and they do absolutely nothing to make me like it now. they simply stretch me wider and wider. i feel myself gaping open during every change, lube trickling down my thighs.

my feet dangle off the floor, cuffed to the table legs, my arms are stretched overhead and my wrists are bound to reinforced straps. i let myself cry this time and the white coat walks over once or twice to look into my eyes and scratch notes out onto the clipboard.

to my horror, my cunt begins pulsing every time they change out the phallus, the stretch reminding me of the stretch in my cunt or maybe just triggering some other kind of arousal i can’t understand. maybe it’s just the feeling of hands — even gloved and clinical — on my skin after so many days of isolation.

when the experiment ends this time, even though i hated it, i sob. i don’t want to go back into the quiet dark. i don’t want to be left alone.

but when i’m clean and resettled, the lights turn off and all i hear is the iv and my own shuddering tears. 

[watersmoothstones]

going braless in public with the added stipulation that my nipples have to be hard at all times. you reaching out to pinch them while i’m talking, or casually putting your arm around me so you can rub rough circles with your thumb. if my panties are still soaked by the end of the day, next time i get to go without them, too