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]

stuck in an elevator with my owner who gets bored after the first few minutes and decides to spend the time stretching my cunt around whatever’s in my purse. i slip off my underwear and drop to hands and knees at his instruction, my skirt flipped up over my back. 

he starts with the pens, but they’re too easy and there’s not a lot of them, so he moves on to my lotion bottle. cap side first, but then the other way to the hard corners bit into my walls and i can’t contain my whine. 

he finds my keys and puts just the ring between my teeth and says that if i drop it, i’ll be punished, then moves onto my phone. the shape of it is difficult but the ridges on the sides of the case have me biting down on the little metal key ring. then he adds my wallet, softer but fatter, and the cold, hard line of the zipper is all i can feel until i just feel full. he fucks me with one then the other and my tears start to fall. he pulls them both out too fast and i almost drop the keys, but i manage to bite down just in time. 

so he moves on to the nalgene. 

i have no idea how long we’ve been stuck here, but my knees are aching, i’ve dropped from shaking arms down to my elbows, and there are puddles below my chin and between my legs. 

the bottle works in slow and painful. my owner stretches me with fingers and everything else he’s already used, but the bottle is so big. he tells me not to worry, it’ll fit, he’ll make it fit, but it’ll probably ruin my cunt forever if i manage to take the whole thing. the thought makes me clench and the clenching hurts. but i am his, so i spread my knees wider, hold the keys in my mouth as gently as i can. 

when it first pops in it almost feels good. the stretch around my rim hurts, yes, but in that way that i’ve come to love, and my owner rubs soothing circles on the back of my thigh. then he pushes it in further. and further. when it’s far enough in, he fucks me with it, short fast strokes, jerking my whole body no matter how hard i try to stay still. i cry, sob, around the key ring, lips pressed tight. he tells me not to come on it and i think that’s not going to be a problem but my entire world barrows down to my pussy, to the stretch, the pain, the space being made inside, the fact that it’s my water bottle, the one i drink from every day, being shoved inside me. it starts to feel good, and there might be a hand on my clit because pleasure actually begins to build around the pain. 

this is all my pussy will be good for anymore, he says, he’s going to ruin it for anything smaller. he won’t be able to sell it anymore, not in person, not to people who want to fuck it with their sad small cocks, it’ll be too loose. he’ll have to stretch it himself, on his fist, on this bottle, on boots and baseball bats and toys made for broken cunts like me. there’s a clunk somewhere off to the side, but i can’t pay attention to it. my pussy stretches and he fucks it and it feels so good to be so full and so broken and he tells me not to come and i try and i clench and there’s pain, just the right amount of pain, and i hold it back hold it back and then somebody off to the side says oh holy fuck and i turn my head to find three firefighters with the elevator doors jacked open watching, filming, and i come with a scream. the keys fall to the floor and i follow them down. my owner shoves the bottle in as far as it will go, pats my trembling thigh, and says it’s time for my punishment next

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the princess must be prepared for her future marriage to the orc king so she’s stretched every day on various phalluses by the court physician until she gapes enough that she might be able to take him. she needs to be prepared, too, to be fucked at any moment so she becomes almost free use inside the castle. nobody can touch her skin, but the knights can fuck her with the pommels of their swords, the kitchen staff can fuck her with the rolling pins and cooking spoons, the servants can stuff her mouth and cunt with rags and linens until she’s full to bursting. she must thank whomever has used her, too. a good princess is polite and grateful

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something something transwoman with low fertility really wants a baby but doesn’t want to go off hormones so she keeps me fucked full of her sperm, at least three times a day every day, in the hope that one of these days it will catch. 

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i want someone to come up behind me on the subway, take their dick out using the pleats of my miniskirt to hide, and start jerking off over my underwear. they don’t even really try to touch me, though their knuckles skim my ass as they work their cock and their breath is hot and close against my neck. they’re not even trying to take their time, either, fast strokes, stuttered breathing, and then the wet heat of their cum starts to soak into my panties. i want to be left there with cum under my skirt, dripping down my thighs, and barely have even been touched about it

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stalker who blackmails me into putting the cameras up in my house myself so i always know where they are and even though i try to ignore them, i can’t help looking for the blinking red lights in every room

stalker who blackmails me into masturbating more, more openly, take off the covers and put on a show for me or i’ll post everything i have of you online you’re porn for me so act like it or do i have to break in there and rape you on camera myself

stalker who sends people to break into my house and rape me on camera. at first i think it’s them, but it’s a different person each time. i cry and scream and threaten to go to the police but i get texted a link to a cloud storage drive with videos of all the porn i’ve been blackmailed into making for them already and so i keep quiet

stalker who tells me to watch one of the videos, any of the videos, and to make myself come for them to my own violation. it’s easier than i want it to be

stalker who tells me to do it again

stalker who places a bottle of sleeping pills on my nightstand while i’m out and leaves a note telling me to take one after dinner. i do. and when i wake in the morning i’m still wet and dripping with come and i don’t even need my stalker to tell me to jerk off to it, i just push the covers down and fuck their come back into my sore hole until i’m moaning and shaking apart

stalker who tells me if i’m good enough, they’ll take me away from here. keep me somewhere nice and quiet where i don’t have to make any decisions at all. where i can give in to them and become their perfect doll. just take the sleeping pills every night until the bottle is empty, and fuck myself every morning with their come leaking out of me

stalker who keeps their word

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you’ve been somebody’s captive long enough that you don’t even question it when they chain you naked to one of the joists in your basement bedroom and a crew of men come down to begin removing all the furniture you’ve earned with good behavior over the years. it’s a new lesson, you think. an opportunity to earn it all back, or earn something better. you thank the movers with your body, as ordered, still chained to the joist, your captor watching silently as they cover you with come. they thank your captor for the tip and leave, and you expect your captor’s new orders, new training to begin. but they just stand there, almost sad, before they silently clean you up, so gentle that the dread that has been prickling deep in the back of your mind begins to surface. you know better than to ask. you’ve been trained to patience. so you wait until they’re done cleaning you, wait again as they fuck you themself, wait as they beat you, tears wetting their eyes this time, rage turning your skin red and purple in the shape of their hands, their shoe tread, their belt. you scream for them and cry for them the way you know they like, and that only seems to make it worse, whatever it is they’re going through. finally, when they’re done, cock soft and palms as red as your face, they pull you into their lap, fingers soothing in your hair and stinging over your new welts. another person comes down the stairs, a dark grin on their face. you’re scared, used and aching, but well broken enough to endure another session if ordered. but that’s not what your captor says. instead your captor says, “i’ve sold the house, and you in it. this is your new owner.”

[watersmoothstones]

owner hooking my nipple ring chain up over my tongue ring, pulling on all three piercings, and leaving a puddle of drool dripping down my chin, my chest, my cunt, and onto the floor

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thinking about a captor who trains the word “no” out of my vocabulary. he pretends he’s really big on consent, but it’s actually compliance he’s after, because he’s clearly not averse to coercion. like, i’ve already traded away my clothes for soft blankets in my cage; i take all my meals kneeling by his chair and fed by his hand; i “agreed” to the cameras in the bathroom anytime i clean or relieve myself. but he’s adamant that he won’t fuck me as long as i say “no.” 

he reminds me of this after he’s done spanking my cunt for an hour for spilling food from his fingers, and he begs to be allowed to fuck my swollen pussy, but i shake my head and scream the word until my throat goes hoarse. and he doesn’t. 

i wake up the next morning with a shock collar around my neck. it doesn’t take very long to figure out what triggers it. and it’s not just the word “no,” though that’s clearly the most important target. it’s also anything that might indicate a negation. i think for a while that day that it must be him triggering it, so i wait until i’m alone in my cage at night, but the shocks still rip through me when i whisper “no” to myself. 

it takes a month, or maybe two or three or ten, it’s hard to track the passage of time when my days are filled with electricity and pain. but the pain tapers off. i deny him less and less, still holding on to the one last shred of my pride.

until one day, he stands before me, remote in hand. he caresses the shock collar, and asks to fuck me. and i don’t say no. i don’t shake my head. i don’t even move. just stare blankly at the wall over his shoulder. 

a smile crawls over his face and he says, “well that’s not a no,” and splits me open on his cock. 

[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

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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

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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

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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