ryland grace is aroace. however he is also stratt’s dead wife, rocky’s red string of fate starcrossed soulmate, & intensely violently homosexual for mark “simon iron lung” iplier. all things are true & all things can coexist. peace & love on planet erid
the monster under the bed (dead dove - alternating POVs)
Boogeyman x fem!Reader // Various Monsters x fem!Reader (Explicit NSFW)
Synopsis: The starving monster decides to crawl under your bed to exploit your shame and repressed lust. Prying nightmares from every locked door in your head, it makes you face what you refuse. All in three vicious, humiliating nightmares.
Warnings: Alternating POVs - **** marks a switch // dead dove, don’t eat - explicit nsfw content in the form of three nightmares // sexually repressed bi!reader, shapeshifting monster (otherwise referred to as “it”), claiming, fear, peeping tom-esque “monster under the bed” stuff, magic, magic restraints & infectious aphrodisiac, shame exploitation, explicit humiliation/shame/and embarrassment, somno, monster forces the nightmares on the reader but the contents are all from the reader’s repressed kinks -> a masc!dom!vampire forcing her to strip out of wet clothes & fucking her in front of a mirror // a gigantic masc!unspecified monster chasing her down to take her as his mate and forcibly breed her // a fem!fairy & a slime monster fucking the reader in the middle of a meeting at work. // the warnings are long due to the varying nightmares, so the rest will be listed under the cut.
Word Count: 4.9k
A/N: Haha. So this is based off of two requests from the kinktober form. I’ll list them both under the cut with the rest of the warnings. Please mind them. This fic is entirely out of left field. Love y’all <3
Warnings Contd: dreams are all consensual non-con in the way of her own repressed kinks she’s facing, clit stim, fingering, nipple stim, blatant humiliation in every nightmare, blood & vampire bites, vamp bite = aphrodisiac, rough mirror sex -> no reflection from the vampire so it looks like the reader is being fucked by a ghost, size difference & size kink (biiiiig cock to human combo), masc!monster is just described as huge & muscular & beastly (you can sub in your monster of choice), breeding kink, buckets of cum, rough sex, unprotected sex, public sex/exhibitionism, non-con recording, slime monster attacks the reader around her colleagues/boss and restrains her inside of itself, slime monster can turn itself into tentacles, slime is also an aphrodisiac that burns off clothing, oral (fem!fairy rides the reader’s face & the reader deep throats/chokes on a slime tentacle), rough vaginal tentacle sex, implied anal if you want but nothing specified, reader is really repressing her sexuality, multiple orgasms
****
Power. Hunger. Primal urges requiring success. Call it whatever you wanted, but the fact of the matter was that the monster chose you. You were its new prey, the cuff of your pajama bottoms scuffing the ground as you walked your trash bins to the curb. It watched every step, stalking nearer and nearer. Hidden in the trees, the bushes, your car, the pillar on your front porch, then like a shadow, it slipped in through your front door behind you. Latched to you like a ghost to the haunted.
Underneath your bed, it stayed. The dark corners were its new home. Curling its long, clawed fingers around the supportive bar of your bedframe, it arched up toward your mattress. Black mist coiled through. A cloud of smoke invisible to your eye, it filled your mattress. Your pillows. Your bedroom. It filled you.
No moonlight crept in to show its gnarly fangs or its sickening smile. No noise crept from where it stretched out and claimed you as its new meal. There was nothing but the soft hum of sleep drawing you into your bed and the warm blankets baking you like a sweet treat.
It closed its eyes and hummed happily.
Humans were so simple. So many emotions to exploit. So many doors to open from the front of their mind to the back. Ripping them off their hinges and prying out what lay inside. It closed its hands tighter around your bedframe and pulled. The magic wrapped around you like ropes and dragged you into your mattress more. More and more until you were simply pinned still. Easier to access that way. The wrap around your ankles, legs, wrists, and arms kept you steady. One slowly closed around your throat, and with a deep sniff of you, it pulled.
The doors of every hidden room of thought jostled except one.
One flew open and it grasped the nightmare in its claws and expanded it.
It was time.
****
There was no beginning to the nightmare. One moment you were curling up in bed to get some much-needed rest. The next, you were standing in a candle-lit living room. Gothic in features, a plush rug underneath your bare feet. Water dripped down along your temple and beneath your rain-soaked gown. Rain. A crash of thunder told you that you’d run through the rainy forest to get there.
That was all you had in terms of exposition.
“Take it off.”
You looked up. There was more. A conversation. You were supposed to be in the middle of one, but you couldn’t recall anything. You simply looked up and blinked at the figure seated before you. He stared bored, his chin in his hand, his legs crossed, watching you with striking red eyes. A scowl sent a wave of fear where it ought not to go and rocked you on your feet.
Death awaited you, you knew. In that moment, somewhere in there, somewhere in him–there was just death. And your car that’d broken down outside was just the preamble to the mistake of choosing his door–the only door in a five-mile radius–for assistance.
“You want to take it off. So take it off,” he stated.
A harder edge in his voice came in tandem with the flash of his sharp, white fangs.
Oh, how your heart pounded. A small tremble made you feel as human as you truly were across from the monster he was. A sick, depraved, terrifying monster. A generic tagline in the haze of the nightmare, but you felt the visceral reaction. A coil in your belly. A chill along your spine. A whisper that said do it.
So you did.
A pull at the straps of your soaked sundress made his chin lift. You couldn’t look at him. No gaze could be held in such circumstances, let alone his. Your pulse rocked in your head and tears burned your eyes, yet you continued. You hooked your thumbs around those straps and guided them all the way down.
Your dress. Your dress went all the way down.
His quiet move in his chair joined the sounds of your drenched wet dress peeling from your body. You wore nothing but a pair of floral underwear underneath. The snag of the dress on your nipples made them ache, and your eyes clamped shut.
It was wrong.
The dress pooled at your feet.
The monster hummed in sweet satisfaction.
Heat drenched from your curling toes up to your crossing arms. Hide. You had to hide. Hugging your chest to hide away. Tears burned and slipped in a betrayal of your sheer determination. Your nipples pinched in growing aches against your arms; every breath brushed them against you. A true, sincere betrayal. You sniffled.
“No, no, no,” he hummed. “Don’t cry. Don’t.”
Closer. A sudden chill shot down your back at his voice appearing next to your ear. Behind you. He was behind you in a heartbeat. You stared at his empty chair under the new touch of his cold fingertips skimming along the sides of your arms.
“We both know what you want,” he whispered. His fingers closed around your wrists. “We both know what you crave.” He pulled them down and bared your chest to the bright candlelight. “We both know your cunt aches for me.”
A touch to your neck. Both wrists slid into one hand that he held behind your back. A wet flick of his tongue snagged a tear from your jaw and followed the curve back to your ear. His fangs nicked your lobe, and the swell was sudden. As immediate as your gasping breath.
He held you at your chin and angled your head aside. It gave way to your throat–more access, better angles, easier advantage. Gave way to the press of his parted lips right at the juncture of your throat and shoulder.
“You can use my phone to call that tow truck when we’re done.” He grinned against you. “If you even still want to leave.”
A dribble of fear strangled you.
Then, there was just the vicious sting prodding your throat, and when the skin broke, everything turned red.
If you even still wanted to leave.
“Look at you. Look at you!”
Bloody hands held your legs open over his lap. Red dripped down from the wound on your throat, the fear of death stinging the edges of consciousness, but the rest lay screaming and crying in the mirror’s reflection. There was no him to see. Not really; he held no reflection in that gold-framed mirror.
There you gaped full yet empty in that mirror, your eyes glazed over with lust while you heaved every desperate breath. Your nipples ached from his fingers. Your underwear was torn in two and left on the floor. And his balls slapped wet against you with every rough, laughter-filled thrust.
This was wrong. You were supposed to be at your friend’s. You were supposed to have met them ages ago. Did they miss you? Worry about you? Wonder where you were? The questions crept in for only moments before he drilled in deep and angled you further back so you could see. See yourself stretched over him, see his cock plowing into you from beneath you and showing off your cunt to you in the mirror.
Out of sheer, blinding need, your fingers moving to rub your clit and pinch your nipples. They itched for it. Pleaded for it. How close you were to falling apart. But you couldn’t.
“Do it,” he commanded.
You didn’t want to. You sniffled, shaking your head frantically.
You needed to.
You didn’t want to!
He drew his tongue over throat and angled back even more. The couch cushioned the new position, and in the mirror, you just saw yourself hovering over nothing. Stuck in the air, locked in a cage, your cunt gaping and sucking in the invisible cock that had you screaming.
You didn’t need to do it.
His laugh echoed in the living room. The fire crackled. He sank his fangs into a new spot on your shoulder, and at the broken skin, you fell.
Sobbing.
Watching in the mirror as you clenched around nothing, body blood-covered and shuddering, you came. You shook your head; you didn’t want it, you didn’t want to like this. But it felt so good. It felt so right. It felt eye-rolling, toe-curlingly phenomenal.
An orgasmic stupor cracked into you, and–
Awake.
Panting.
In bed.
Your bed.
You jolted upright, your alarm blaring in the early morning. Heart pounding, chest heaving, hands shaking, you…. You…. It…. You stared down at your slightly mussed blankets. A nightmare. It was just a nightmare. A humiliating, horrendous nightmare.
Fuck. With a wipe of your hands over your face, you rolled out of bed.
Wet dripped down your thighs, and you staggered.
Just…an atypical nightmare. That sort of bodily reaction after a realistic dream like that was…fine. Normal. Nothing to dwell on except getting yourself cleaned up.
With a shake of your head, you went about your day like normal.
****
Beneath your bed, licking at your mattress, it fed. More magic seeped in waiting for your return. It laughed at the pathetic damp spot it could see while peeking out from its new home.
How long would it take?
The burn struck your cheeks and filled its belly, but it wasn’t enough.
The first night was never enough. Just the start of the breaking point. But it’d get you. It’d jostled every door inside of you no matter how many locks stood between it and you. He’d pry the next one open and the torture would feed him deliciously.
While you left for the day, it crept out and made your house an extension of it. Your couch. Your shower. Your chairs. Every single thing you touched, it infected so it would infect you.
Then it lay in wait again for so many daylight hours. Eventually, you returned. Eventually, you were back, you were living, you were readying for bed. Then it was its time again. Its belly rumbled at the soft squeak of you climbing back into bed.
Clawing through to you once more, the tendrils of magic gluing you still to your bed, it peered further back in your head. Passed every door that wasn’t quite right. No memories. This wasn’t about memories. This had to be deep and daunting; an imposed nightmare you’d never want escaping into the real world. That you’d never wish to face yourself.
It smiled at the touch of a cold doorknob with a growling beast behind it.
There.
It yanked the door open, and pushed you in head-first.
****
Another nightmare.
The woods whipped around you with thin branches smacking into you. Leaves crunched beneath your shoes. Torns and those endless branches tore at your clothing. It chased you. A labyrinth of trees had you turning every which way to get away. Pumping adrenaline burrowed so deep in your belly, it kept you as steady as you were panicking.
The huff of the beast changed that.
There was no escape. No outrunning it. Your fate lay in its hands, and you knew what came when it caught you. Instinct told you to run and scream. To hide somewhere where no place was popping up for you to hide in. Once the beast caught you–
The ground was no longer beneath your feet.
An unearthed root caught the toe of your shoes, and you went face-first toward the muddy ground. Your hands barely caught you, taking the brunt of the fall. The sudden far-away pain in your hands and knees jostled you. The pounding feet of the beast carried in closer. Pushing yourself back to your knees and your burning hands, you knew it already.
Too late.
You’d lost the chase.
A large warm hand took you by your neck and pressed your cheek into the dirt. A wave of fear was not of what awaited, but the lack of fear awaiting it. A strange memory flickered from you but not–a brief recall of your gaping cunt in the vampire’s mirror–and at the torn material of your pants, you gasped into the wet ground.
A huffing breath painted your back where your shirt rolled up. You didn’t fight. Didn’t do more than squirm while your knees were knocked apart and your underwear was torn and tossed somewhere.
One impossibly thick knuckle nudged your cunt, parting you around it, rubbing you with a languidness that juxtaposed its earlier beastly chase. And it huffed again while pressing that knuckle right against your entrance. Dripping, clenching, and aching entrance.
You shook your head.
You shouldn’t want it.
You shouldn’t want any of it.
An echoed thought deep in the back of your head bounced around just out of reach.
But the monster’s fat tip pressed against your aching cunt. Too big. Much too big. And yet with a determined press, your eyes widened, and you moaned when he pushed his thick cock all the way into you. It scraped every sensitive part of you. Stretching you. Gaping you. It pushed you to a breaking point that had your hips angling down and your feet digging into the dirt. A sudden clench that was a sharp, powerful twitch around his erection ripped through you without hesitation.
You came.
At his insertion, you came, gasping and clawing at the ground.
Gushing all over him.
You came.
He reeled back with gigantic hands on your hips until just his tip stretched you. No. No. No. You burned for him. Ached for him. Breathed yes, yes, yes into the ground while the monster rocked its hips, fucking you with only his leaking tip once, twice, three, four times. You fell apart already in a moaning mess, begging in incoherent sounds for him. And at that, with a satisfied grunt, it drilled into your cunt, and had you a screaming, sobbing mess while it fucked you into the ground.
You came.
Used for his pleasure, his cock, his pistoning thrusts, you came and came again, each climax bullied out of you like it was as much a goal as it was unintentional.
Each one made you fall further into the tormenting truth.
Each one….
His hips snapped forward and your breath hitched hard in that dirt.
He came spilling hot, thick, and heavy inside of you. So much. So, so much. It spilled out of you, pouring out in thick globs. He fucked it into you, coating your walls, your thighs, the ground underneath you getting drops that you were thrown into with an unceremonious emptying. You twitched on the ground in the puddle you were dropped in.
One large hand rolled you onto your back and grabbed your ankles. The beast was a blur in vision that wasn’t clearing. Just large. Absolutely massive in height, in muscle, in his glistening cock dribbling with cum. Cum that he smeared at your twitching cunt. Already, with glowing eyes watching you, he pushed what he’d given you back in with a slow, filling thrust.
He held your still by your ankles, keeping your hips off the ground, and angled them back.
Your fate as his mate was set.
He rutted into you with a blurry grin far above you. He fucked you hard and deep, making sure every drop of cum he needed in you was in there. His tip dragged against your sweet spot with targeted repetition, and above, untouched, your clit swelled and ached, but nothing came to it. It wasn’t needed.
As another involuntary orgasm crashed into you without any forgiveness, you jolted.
On your floor.
Sweaty, shaking, staring up at your ceiling with your blankets trapping your legs up against the side of your bed. Wet. Your heart stuttered and your stomach clenched. Wet. Soaking wet. The kind that had you parting your legs as much as you could, heat burning into you to the point that more sweat dripped down your temple.
A worse wet spot than yesterday morning ruined your sleep shorts.
You cunt spasmed in the last remnants of a ruined orgasm you must’ve had in your sleep.
“What the fuck?”
A tickle of fear touched your chest. Why…? Why were you having nightmares like that? You’d had nightmares before. Plenty in your lifetime. But they’d never…. They’d never been like that. Never been that real feeling. Never been that humiliating.
It’d be one thing if you woke up screaming in the fear they ought to bring you. Just fear. Only fear. The rest of it? No. You didn’t like it. You didn’t want it.
They’d go away.
Yes, they’d go away!
You untangled yourself from your blankets and hauled yourself to your shower to wash the shame off.
Maybe with a bit more relaxation before bed, you’d sleep without worry.
Yeah, you just had to relax more.
****
It watched you when you woke, free of its restraints the second it felt your body lurch in the climax it didn’t bother to fight. Begging for it, the taste utterly delicious when you jolted awake just right there and fell deep into the depth of your shame. It was of your own making. You wanted what you wanted; if you’d only accepted it, it would have nothing to latch onto and throw you into.
It was happily fed in its new home.
Your ignorance was its toy.
Your shame as its food.
It grinned and watched you from the base of your bed, transferring more and more of its magic into your bed.
It waited patiently for you that night. The steam of your tea wafted underneath the bed. The candle you’d lit during your bath and the sweet soap and lotion clinging to you in a feeble attempt.
You were trying so hard. You were forcing it so pathetically. It pressed itself again against your bed, breathing in deep at the utter desperation seeping out of you to keep yourself free of those shameful nightmares. Of the guilt making your heart pound because your body craved what you didn’t think it should.
It licked along the bed in what matched where you sat back against your pillow. The push of magic from its tongue went right through the plush mattress and met where your nightgown was bunched up. He tasted you through it. The thin material of your underwear. The ache that remained from your previous night’s orgasm. The embarrassment clinging to you so potently that you refused yourself. Refused the ache. Refused to face that want, that need, that clench in your pussy asking to be filled.
It’s okay.
It nibbled at the bed.
Magic crept up invisible and wrapped around you in unbridled anticipation.
If last night’s nightmare didn’t break you, tonight’s would.
It was sure of it.
****
When you blinked, there was just the dull conference room. Gray on all sides except the massive windows overlooking the busy city outside. Twenty coworkers hung around all half-asleep, barely hanging onto the monologue your boss had been rambling on about for the last thirty minutes. She was eager to increase sales, but nobody was listening.
You knew you weren’t when you glanced her way. She always dressed for the occasion; a perfectly steamed pencil skirt clinging to the curve of her thighs and hips. It accentuated her waist, where her blouse was tucked in without a spot awkwardly out of place while she waved at the projector screen. Nylons went up her toned legs and heels made her calves look incredible. Heat was a little flickered in your cheeks while you followed the single, unexpected run in her nylons up the back of her leg to where it disappeared beneath her skirt. The nice curve of her ass making your eyes lift faster, and then you were at her slow turn, her reach toward the screen, the low-cut of her blouse that bared her necklace. And where her necklace hung down into her cleavage.
You jerked away, quickly scribbling words down that weren’t words. The pen wasn’t holding right in your hand and it was just jumbled nonsense on the page. You could understand what you’d tried to write, but it wasn’t legible. It wasn’t anything but weird symbols and squiggles and….
Plop.
A sparkly purple dollop of something landed next to your hand. Two branches of consciousness broke there for a moment. Pure, unadulterated embarrassment barrelled in because you knew what that was. You knew it from a drunk night when you’d scrolled to a strange site with strange interests that had your drunken thoughts running rampant. But that’s all they were. Drunken thoughts.
In that brief moment, you knew you were in a nightmare. You knew what was about to happen. There was no pinching yourself to wake up.
You…didn’t want to.
And that second branch of consciousness came only in your senses. Sucked back into the nightmare, you were just a curious woman leaning over the dollop of purple that grew with another splat. Then another. You looked up–all around you unaware of what was accumulating on the table–and you saw it in the vent. A giant thing of…of goop. Of slime. Glimmering and mesmerising sinking in through the bars of the vent. Dropping in thicker drops. Gathering faster. Gathering in plain sight yet with none aware of it covering your papers, your space, and before you could pull your hands back–you.
It wanted you.
You tried to sputter out something for help, but the pile kept growing. Far back, you felt the burn through the nightmare and into your bedroom, yanking at the magic holding you pinned back, your nightgown pulled askew so the cold air could touch your aching nipples and your cunt would leak onto your sheets.
No, no, no.
Yes, yes, yes.
It enveloped your hands. Your forearms. Your elbows. It grew. Only grew. It burned with a strange tingling, but nobody looked when you asked for their help. Everyone just continued listening to your boss continue on.
The vent creaked.
The slimy substance captured your shoulders.
With a pop, the rest spilled out and trapped you whole.
That burn began to sear. It seared right through your blouse. Your slacks. Your shoes and socks. Your eyes widened inside of it as it wrapped around your head. How you could still breathe, you had no explanation. But tears stung and fear burned as you sat trapped in the thing capturing you.
As it manipulated you in your chair, burning past your blouse and slacks. Burning away your bra and underwear right as all eyes turned to look at you in blanket disgust. You shook your head–tried to shake your head–and opened your mouth to shout, pulling at the slimy substance that simply locked your hands far apart and hoisted your legs apart and back. But when you tried to speak, yell, anything, all the parting of your lips did was welcome it into your mouth.
Welcomed it into you.
All of you.
A phallic thing plunged into your mouth and deep in your throat. Another went between your legs and pushed thick at your entrance. Endless–it was thick and endless and it tingled with such a sweet tingle–a taste in your tongue that was so sweet it was addictive–your eyes watered and you sobbed in an explosion of sudden pleading.
Everyone reeled back in disgust. Your boss strolled over with disappointment, her hand pushing through the slime like it wasn’t there, and she held your throat with a tight squeeze.
She leaned in close enough that the slime singed her blouse. Her black bra was visible in seconds, and the phallic things inside of you did more than simply enter you. You shook your head, begging for it not to humiliate you like this. No, no, no.
But your boss squeezed your throat tighter–tight enough that you felt the twitching tendril pump you full of whatever it was releasing into your stomach.
“Is this what you’re thinking about during all of our conference meetings?” she asked.
The slime burned away at her skirt. Her black thong started to show.
The tendril of slime inside of you engorged itself. It pulled all the way out and back, and your boss reached in. Tendrils parted your cunt. They brushed over your clit and pulled the hood back.
Your boss’ clothes, the remaining black tatters, burned off. Her breasts in your face, her cunt slowly baring under the melting fabric. You clenched hard around nothing, humiliation burrowing so deep, you could only choke and sob when her hand pushed through the slime to you. To your clit.
You tried to fight it, but there was nothing to fight when your body craved it. Her. The eyes no longer of disgust but simple dedicated interest all on you.
They lifted their phones and the sea of quiet dings started their recordings.
Her finger brushed your clit, and the thick, slimy tendril bullied itself into your cunt and spiraled around your spasming walls.
“Is this what you’re fantasizing about in our one-on-one meetings?”
She smiled. Tilted her head, smiled, and rubbed your clit faster. Rubbed the slimy substance trapping you into where you ached and twitched under her, and you were already there. Nowhere to escape. No will to escape. Choking on the thickening tendril in your throat, hips rising up into her touch as the tendril in your cunt bullied into you hard and rougher, you were broken.
The rush of your orgasm was so sudden, you chased after it to get it even faster. It came and it came hard. You came hard. Throwing your head back while your boss chuckled softly, your entire body convulsing as the tendril rubbed and rubbed and rubbed your sweet spot. You were nothing more than a shattering orgasm, reaching out to claw at the pleasure and gushing around the non-stop thrusting from the tendril.
Yes, yes, yes. No. No.
Yes.
One blink in ecstasy, and you were pinned to the conference table, spread out for all to see, still being fucked. Still crying and shaking, another orgasm making you shriek into her parted legs as she straddled you. Kneeling on either side of your head on that massive table. Humming happily, a line of moving, magic symbols skimming along her back and fluttering wings coming out to lift her up and then right back down onto your face.
She faced away from you, hands down on the table, your legs pinned back by the slimy creature to show her the perfect view of your holes getting fucked senseless. So she could watch you fall victim to the betraying urges lifting your head to lap at her leaking cunt. The position let her ride you, but she kept still to make you come to her.
Wanting her.
Begging to taste her again.
Desperate to make her cum.
With a happy, high-pitched whine, your dream came true. The slime monster engorged itself once more inside of you, making your focus haze out into endless pleasure just as your boss came over your tongue. Spasming, clenching, moaning–she came in the prettiest sight. And then with a chokehold, you were down in the depths.
Down in a sea of whitehot pleasure.
Down falling back into consciousness, back into yourself in your bedroom, staring down at the glowing yellow eyes of the shadowed figure peeking out from the end of your bed. The crippling fear was just an addition. A feature. An extra that came holding up the mindshattering orgasm that tore through your restrained body.
Gushing out onto your sheets. One black, smoky tendril moving your head up so you had to stare down at yourself. At your heaving chest where your nightgown was pulled down and tucked underneath them. Where your underwear no longer kept your cunt covered. Your glistening, dropping, twitching cunt.
“W..ha..t is i..t…tha..t y…ou wa…nt?” it croaked. Its head tilted and just as you opened your mouth to scream in bloody horror, it smiled. “S..h….ame…? Or?”
It moved.
A slow crawl up over your bed. The convulsing waves of your orgasm acted in betrayal, keeping you only lightly squirming as your cunt squeezed and gushed. Your toes curled and your body knew what it wanted as badly as it knew the rising fear.
One touch of shadow against your comforter, and the long, clawed fingers morphed. All of it morphed, bit by bit as it crawled further up. Crawled up to you.
The yellow eyes remained, but the rest of it was bare, glittering skin with fluttering wings stretching out from its back. A teasing smile leaned toward yours, brushing softly against your trembling lips, with breasts nudging yours and curvy hips settling between your still-restrained legs.
“Or this?” it breathed in that same voice.
Its mouth pressed to yours, and what did fear matter when two fingers pushed into your cunt and something in a similar sensation as the restraints rushed to tighten around your nipples and trap your clit.
Your eyes rolled back and your head went with it. It pivoted with you, curling its tongue inside your mouth with a deepening kiss.
****
Your cunt fluttered around its fingers and your body went taut in the restraints.
With a grin, it curled its tongue inside your mouth to claim you as its and only its.
Shame. Acceptance. Desperation. Lust.
Your moan cracked out in the room when you came chasing your orgasm.
Ha.
It had you in the palm of its hand and you’d keep it fed for years.
