r/BDSMerotica

As a creative and expressive soul I find it soul destroying that we now live in a world where invasive technology, bots, scammers or worse erode our hope and trust in ever being prepared to risk getting to know people, at a time when the tools, equipment and opportunity to unleash our passion couldn't be more intuitive!

We've all been bitten, suffered, loved and lost but nopefully it's all led to us finding our way to the 'here and now' of our own individual iourney.

As many of us are, being expressive is a curse as much as a blessing as it always longs for more

So how do we meet other likeminded creative heathens these days?

Like for real?2? Im asking.

Half the people on here including apps rarely even reply let alone are likely even real, so theres that

So postina a direct post often sucks.

I know I've tried.

A few times.

Fet and the online community of old is technically dead for many, and also often not even an option if you live outside a maior city-hub, leaving few opportunities for likeminded kinksters to meet.

I currently live out in the beautiful pacific north west and desperately want to meet fellow creatives and salacious artist/exhibitionists and writers and suchlike for all kinds of delights, but there's iust na sub community's or local reddits, and those that may exist are the local sfw threads.

Insta and other platforms all seem to be monetized or OnlyFans redirect profiles, so where do we go to meet people in 2026!?

Finding creative heathens who share the same passion for creative expression seems to be a lost art and almost impossible these days.

For all its power, Al may be able to recreate a perfect visual of a man or woman, but there's nothing more beautiful than knowing the vision is real, the tears, sweat, glow and joy is heartfelt and from a place that matters.

Recently, I had the unfortunate experience of experiencing severe pain during penetrative sex. The circumstances that led to this encounter and the resulting injury were so embarrassing, that I could not bring myself to make an appointment with my family doctor to get it checked out. So instead I searched for another clinic online.

I live in a large city so there were lots of options to choose from, too many, actually. I quickly was overwhelmed with options. Looking through reviews didn't help. For every glowing review, there was a negative one. It was enough to make my head spin.

I even considered dropping the whole thing entirely, since I knew I likely just needed to take a break from having penetrative sex for a while, and things would fix themselves on their own. But later that night, I felt myself becoming more and more restless.

I tried giving myself some relief through masturbating, honestly but I have never been very good at it. I always end up feeling more horny and frustrated afterwards. Especially if I could only stimulate my clit, which was my only option atm. But even still, I found myself on my bed, legs up and open in the air while I rubbed my clit to various graphic porn gifs. I just couldn't get myself to stop!

While panting and moaning, I noticed an ad that kept popping up on side bars of the various websites I was scrolling through. Instead of the usual women being graphically debased in some enticing way, it was cold and clinical. It was an ad for a female sexual health clinic in my city.

I clicked through and it was a rather normal looking clinic, just like the others I had seen. It seemed odd that a cold website like this would be posting ads on the hot and wet side of the internet. I was intrigued.

I clicked around and found the testimonials page. There were pages and pages of stories of their past clients who had found immense relief from the clinic's methods and how their lives had improved as a result. They talked of the doctor's no-nonsense approach, how no cloying euphemisms were used, how they didn't baby you through the process and instead kept you on track, making sure you kept doing the needed work. None of them explained what this so-called work was, but since my legs were still up in the air and my cunt was pulsing needily, I figured that it had to be better than enduring one more night of this. I desperately needed the relief they were promising . So with trembling, slick hands, I filled out the new patient request form and hit the submit button.

The rest of the night was a mess, but I somehow endured without opening up tinder and making another really bad decision. When I woke up I was greeted with a new email from the clinic. They had reviewed my application and accepted it, along with asking if I could come in on Friday for an appointment. I looked at the date and whimpered. It was only Monday, could I trust myself to behave and not make any bad decisions? For an entire work week? During the day I did okay, I had a white collar job, a flat to take of and friends to see. But the nights lately, they had been so bad. My clit was still throbbing from last night's pathetic attempt at self relief.

So instead I phoned the clinic and asked if it was possible to move up my appointment. It was a woman who was on the other end of the phone and she laughed, saying that it wasn't the first time a new patient had asked to be brought in earlier. And luckily, they could squeeze me in today after regular clinic hours were over.

I accepted the appointment and spent the rest of the day on edge. My heart raced as I cleaned myself, making sure everything was freshly shaved and moisterised. I agonized over my outfit choice like I was going on a first date. It was all ridiculous, obviously. These doctors were professionals and my case apparently wasn’t even that uncommon. I probably wouldn’t even be remembered after I left the clinic, I wouldn't leave an impression. I had to keep repeating this to myself all day, my mind barely there at work. I even left a bit early, muttering something about not wanting to miss an important appointment. Again, no one noticed me as I quickly and quietly slipped out of the office.

No one noticed, because no one ever noticed me, unless I wanted them too. I kept my clothes loose and baggy, hair long and underscript. Friends growing up had teased me, saying I could be pretty if I wanted too. I think they meant it as a compliment, but had also felt a bit like a threat, so I played it safe. Life had proven over and over again that it was better to blend in than stick out in any way.

So I went into the clinic wearing an oversized sweater and a knee length skirt. I always wore leggings with skirts, even if they were long enough to not need them. Just the thought of being in a skirt with only my panties separating me from the harsh world, set my hairs on end. And now especially, it would be so much worse. My panties were soaked, something I was reminded of with each step as I walked up to the reception desk.

A woman in scrubs with her hair down and her face in a relaxed expression greeted me. She let me know that I didn't have to do anything else but wait in a chair to be called. She also must have noticed that I was quite flustered since she offered to get me some tea. I agreed, not even bothering to ask what kind. I then shuffled to a chair and tried to not squirm too much in it, as my clit needily begged for more friction. I was so distracted by it, that I didn't notice the woman come back. I jumped in my seat a little when she handed me the tea and she laughed again. I wasn't quite sure if it was at or with me, but I focused on drinking the tea as she returned back to the desk. It was some mild floral taste I couldn't place, but I couldn't bear the thought of asking the woman. My face had been flushed when I came in and had only gotten redder, if I asked her a question and she laughed at me again, I wasn’t sure if I could take the embarrassment.

I looked around the waiting room, it was very nondescript, like any other doctors clinic. There wasn't even a coffee table with magazines to read. I could have tried pulling out my phone, but the mug she had given me was quite large. I had to hold it with both hands. So I had to sit quietly with my own racing thoughts as I drank the tea. I hoped I was going to be called sooner rather than later, but the clock ticked away as I waited. I focused on the tea again, there wasn't much stimulating about it, but drinking it did make me feel somewhat calmer. I ended up drinking it quite fast, finishing it when it was still hot.

When I was done, the woman from the desk had appeared by my side again, only this time I didn't jump. She simply praised me for finishing it so quickly and told me the doctor would see me now and go to the open room on the hallway to the left. I complied and I went down the hallway. I noticed an open door at the very end, like the women said. I went in and sat down on the chair. In the room was the normal gynecologist set up. The examination chair had a large presence in the room with its stirrups and various instruments for examination. My pussy clenched involuntarily at the memory of past painful tests and exams. Only my inner bruising didn't like that and I felt a burning sensation in my lower abdomen.

The door opened as the pain subsided. There was a different woman in scrubs this time and she quickly rattled out orders for me to follow. I practically jumped out of my chair so she could begin the exam. My sweater had to be removed so she could take my blood pressure and I felt a wave of relief as the cool air hit my skin. Between the blushing and the tea, I had gotten so hot and sweaty, I hoped that the nurse couldn't smell me. She then instructed me to remove all my clothes from the waist down and sit up on the exam chair. I hesitated for a moment, expecting her to leave the room so I could change but she didn't. She instead went to a cabinet and opened it, starting to gather supplies.

I awkwardly removed the rest of my clothes except the camisole I was wearing under my sweater. Since I always wore baggy tops, I never bothered wearing a bra so my nipples stood at obvious attention through the thin form fitting fabric. I considered putting my sweater back on, but I didn't want to waste anymore of the nurse's time. So I placed myself on the examination chair, my feet in the stirrups. When I was settled the nurse came over to me and quickly set up the rest. A privacy sheet was placed over my bare thighs that when down over my knees, the stirrups were then moved upwards and open so I was spread wide. I felt a bit uneased at how high and open my legs were, it reminded me of the position I was in last night when I had come across the clinic ad in the first place. But I assured myself that this must be normal and I was simply misremembering since it had been so long since I had seen an OB/GYN.

The nurse then left without a word. I wasn't sure if I felt relieved or not by her leaving. She had treated me more like an object but now that I was alone, spread out and exposed my heart started racing again as the reality of the situation had set in. At what I was going to have to say about my situation to the doctor.

Was this really worth making an appointment for? I barely waited 24 hours after the pain began. Wasn't I supposed to wait a few days to see if it got better on its own? What had I been thinking last night, to convince myself that this was a good idea? Was this all really worth it for some vague promise of relief?

My thoughts started spiraling and my pussy clenched again. Again I was treated to more burning pain. I whimpered in the chair pathetically. At least the cold air on my cunt had begun to cool it down. My clit, which had been throbbing greedily in my soaked panties, was now retreating back to a less aroused state. I took a few deep breaths and welcomed the cold air. At least it was giving me some kind of relief.

But again the clock continued to tick and relief started to turn into discomfort. Shouldn't the doctor be here by now? If I was going to be made to wait, should it have been on the normal chair? I tried to read the clock, but it was on the wall behind me so I could not see it. I suppose I could move my legs to check it or just to close my legs for warmth, but the nurse had told me to wait in this position. So I waited obediently as time ticked by.

I suppose I could have counted the seconds to tell how much time passed, but my mind was too scattered. I thought about my life lately and all the bad choices I had made to put me in this position in the first place. My cheeks burned in shame as my cunt shrank from the discomfort from the cold. If I wasnt so wet to begin with, my pussy wouldnt be so cold from the fridged air. I started scolding myself internally for my behavior, that this is exactly what I deserved.

Then the door opened and I heard footsteps enter. I knew it was a man even without looking, so I kept my eyes downcast in shame. The other women had an air of authority to them, but it was mild, like a teacher. Even without looking at the man, I felt small and humbled, like I was waiting outside the principal's office. Even when he asked for my name, I didn't look up as I mumbled my reply. He didn't give me his name in return and simply sat down on the stool in between my legs.

“Why have you come in for an exam today?” He asked.

My pussy clenched again, there was more burning. I bit my bottom lip to stop from gasping. “I have been having pain in my…..well I think It is my G-spot, but I am not really quite sure.”

“What kind of pain?”

“A burning kind. It is not like super bad right now, it was worse on the weekend but it uh still hurts.”

There was a pause, before he asked in a formal tone. “How was it worse on the weekend?”

“Well, uh” I hesitated, this next part was going to be the worst of it, so might as well get it over with. “I was having sex, like penetrative sex with some guy and I notice it started to hurt like super bad. I tried to ignore it at first, but eventually it got so bad I had to ask him to stop and well, he like wasnt super happy about it so I had to- uh nevermind. Point is that it has been hurting at lot since then”

More silence before the sound of latex gloves being put on filed the air. “Lets take a look then.”

I breathed a sign of relief that the questions were finally over. The exam would not take long and I would be out of here soon. It would be like none of this happened. Hopefully.

I felt a gloved finger enter me, it deftly moved up and forward to my bruised area. He touched it so softly it throbbed instead of burned. I had to stop myself from clenching on to him. While I was bruised, his finger was warm and my cunt was desperate for something warm to fill it. My whole body went taunt from the strain.

“It is not your g-spot.” He said factually, like he was talking about math equations rather than my throbbing pussy. “It is your cervix.”

“My cervix?" I blink in confusion. “But they guy wasnt very…I mean isn't that pretty far back in there?”

“It depends on what part of your cycle you are in.” His finger moved inside me again, gathering a better lay of the land. “When you finish your ovulation, the cervix drops lower in preparation for your period, to release the egg. Or to shed it and the uterus lining, if you were not impregnated.”

“Oh that makes sense I guess.” I say, trying to distract myself from how both painful and pleasurably it was to have his finger inside me. “I am PMSing now or at least I should be based on my period calendar.”

“What do you mean by should be?” His finger stopped moving again resting on the bruised area, my cervix, I guess.

“Oh nothing really, just that I havent really…..havent really been having normal hormone cycles lately” I say breathier than I would like. My cervix throbbed dully against his finger. “But is normal I think. I heard that women in their 30s are more like sexually open or something. So it is probably no big deal right?”

“What are the changes?”

I squirm in my set and I have to stop myself from whimpering. His finger inside me is driving me crazy. If he notices, he doesn't seem to care. “Well uh, my sex drive has really been…increasing lately.’

“How much has it increased?”

I blink. Was this line of questioning really necessary? Then again, I was the one who brought it up. Surely, he was just being diligent. “Noneexistante to uh a lot.”

“Define a lot.”

I feel the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. “Well, I uh think about it…I think about it a lot.”

“What is it?”

I almost gasp. He really doesn't need me to say it out loud, does he? “Having sex.”

“You are going to have to be more specific.” He withdrew his finger from my cunt and I feel it clench hopelessly after him, beckoning him back inside. I am punished with burning for my wantonness. “There are lots of ways to have sex. Some people don't even think about themselves when they fantasize about having sex. This is common in women especially. Are you a part of these fantasies?”

I bit the inside of my check. I ferl so shameful that I want to die. “Yes.” I finally admit. “I am fantasizing about myself having sex.”

“With who?”

I shut my eyes, as if that helps with the shame. It doesn’t. “With men, always men. Just…I dont know various men. It barely matters who. A coworker at work, a retail person, someone I saw on the train. Men that don't exist.” I squirm in my seat again, I can feel the wetness start to build up inside me again as my rapidly beat heart confusing my shame for arousal. “Its like it doesnt matter, I just want to have sex with men.”

There is a pause. “And judging from the state you are in, it's safe to assume that you have been acting out on this desire?”

My face burns, hell, my whole body burns. His tone is so formal but I swear he sounds almost amused. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

My eyes open in shock, I look over at him, but due to how high my legs are, I cant actually see him because of the privacy blanket. Would I even be able to look at him in the eye if I could? “Yes, I have been having lots of sex with men recently because….because I just cant seem to stop myself!”

“You said men plural. How many have you had sex with?”

“Well, I uh…uh I…” I blink back tears of frustration and shame. “I don't know, but it has been a lot.”

“Intereting.” There is a pause and the sound of movement. With no warning, I feel a speculum enter me. Its cold metal is jarring against my wet heat. “How many men did you have sex with before your period of hyper arousal started?”

“Just one.” I say before quickly adding “And I was never really that sexual with him beforehand.”

“He must have appreciated the change.” He put two fingers inside me, resting them back on the bruise. It throbbed. “Or did until it became too much.”

I let out a nervous laugh. My head is spinning from the conversation. I feel like I have no idea what is and isn't appropriate, what is up and what is down. “Yeah, I cheated on him, uh, a few times before I realized that this wasn’t going away easily.“

“Did you cheat on him with one person or several?”

“Several.” I say with almost relief. Was this what confession at church feel like? “I only ever sleep with a guy once before moving on.”

“Why?” His fingers twitch, accidentally I am sure, but my cunt swells in response. “Generally women are known for taking a long time to pick a bed mate. Seems like a waste of effort to mate with them just once.”

“Oh, I was not putting a lot of thought into it.” I say with another laugh. It sounds more manic than nervous. “I was really going for the quickest hits possible because I was just so horny, I couldn't stop myself. I was having sex with guys I would have never looked at before. I was letting total strangers do things to me I would have never done with my boyfriend before this period of hyper arousal started.” I pause for a second, feeling the mania drain out of me. “None of them wanted to even look at me after they were done with me. I don't blame them. I can barely look at myself in the mirror anymore.”

There was a longer pause this time. My cunt throbbing against his fingers. I didnt even care anymore. He already knew what a useless whore I was. What was the point of even trying to hide it anymore.

Finally he broke the silence and spoke. “Why do you feel so ashamed of your sexual desires?”

I bristle at the question. “How can I not? I cheated on my boyfriend, dumped him and have been fucking anyone who would have me.”

“But do you feel ashamed of your actions because you actually feel ashamed of them, or do you merely think you should feel ashamed of them?”

His question gives me pause. “I am not sure I know the difference.”

“Being in a state of hyper arousal is neutral. Even acting on it is neutral. Its clear the men you have been fucking have been enjoying themselves and you obviously do to. You have even been enjoying telling me all about. You have been getting wetter by the second since I came in. Your labia is flushed and keeps fluttering to get even the smallest amount of friction and your clitorous is fully erect.” He moved his thumb so it gently touched my folds.

“Hmmm!” I whimper as my hips buck forward automatically from his touch. I was rewarded with his thumb hitting my clit, sending a wave of pleasure thru my body at the same time as my cunt clenched around his fingers. The pain was as strong as the pleasure.

“That is what I thought.” He says it confidently and I feel small because of it. “You have turned a routine exam into humiliation theater for your sexual gratification and you don't even realize it.” His thumb starts to move in a slow circle around my swollen clit. “Your ego is trying as hard as it can to deny your nature, so your sex drive is increasing to compensate for it. This way you can feel like you are out of control. And if you're out of control then it isn't your fault you are acting out. It is a way for you to get out of responsibility.”

“But I do feel bad!” I exclaim between panting. His thumb feels so good against my clit. I try to keep my hips still, but I can't. They are moving against him to get more pressure. “I feel so bad for acting like this. I feel like a useless slut!”

His thumb pauses before sending a swift swipe over my clit. “Is useless really the right word for how you are acting? Men have clearly found a use for you.”

I throw my head back and moan. My cunt is so wet I can feel my juices start to dribble down towards my ass.

“Do you feel useful as they use your body for their sexual pleasure?” He swipes my clit a few more times, each one causing me to moan. “Does it feel right? Like it is your purpose?”

“Yes!” I cry out through gritted teeth. “It feels so fuckig good to be used. Like I am just a thing to be used by men. I can't get enough of it. I can't stop.”

“You are displacing.” He says as his thumb goes back to circling my clit. “By focusing on pleasing random men sexually you don't have to face yourself and your sexual desires. You get sexual satisfaction without your ego having to come to grips with itself, hense your whining about being a greedy little slut. You enjoy feeling bad about it, because as long as you do, you dont have to face the truth of what you actually are."

My teeth grind in protest, but the more he talks, the more aroused I become. I want to fight back, to deny his words. But my body betrays me, it keeps me quiet to hear more.

"Of course, this means you are having sex with low quality men who want to use you as fast as possible to avoid feelings of intimacy. This leads to mediocre encounters where you have to get off on your own humiliation for any satisfaction. And since the satisfaction is short-lived, you have to seek out these men sooner rather than later, creating a self perpetuating cycle.”

I cant bring myself say anything coherent. I can feel the pressure building in my clit, I would do anything for him to make me cum. Anything.

“Yes, you have worked yourself into a nice little trap, haven't you.” He says with dark mirth. “If you hadn't come in early to the clinic, where would you be right now? With your ruined cunt.”

It takes me a few seconds to catch my breath. “On my knees in some dingy bar, sucking as much cock as I possibly could.”

“Not surprising.” His other hand grabs my thigh as the other continues to circle me. “Do you prefer sucking cock or getting your pretty little mouth fucked”

“My mouth, I want it fucked. Please fuck my mouth, I want it so bad, please!” I feel my mouth water, its almost as wet as my gushing cunt. “Please fuck my mouth!”

He lets out a chuckle and swipes my clit again. “That wasn’t what I was asking, but I suppose I should give you some grace given your condition.” He swipes me again. “What else do you want?”

“I want to cum!” My hips are lifting up from the chair to push back into him as much as possible. “I want to cum so bad, please it has been so long since- Please just make me cum!”

But then I feel his thumb pull away and I feel his finger push into my bruise. I cry out from the pain.

“It has been so long since what?” His tone is direct and cold, its an order.

“Since a man has made me cum!” I quickly answered, my breath panting. “And my boyfriend he never made, made me feel like this!”

“Not surpirsing.” He says matter of factly. His thumb starts rubbing my clit, fast and hard. “You are humiliating yourself in a doctor's office. You don't even know who I am, you never asked for my name. I could be anyone and you wouldn't care would you? A doctor, a janitor, someone who wandered off the street. Any man would do as long as you got off, right?”

“Yes!” I cry out. I am so fucking close to coming, my knucles are white from gripping the chair. “I’m just a dumb slut, a stupid whore, a needy cunt. Use and abuse me as much as you’d like, just please make me cum!”

Suddenly there is pain as he slaps my thigh and I gasp in surprise. Finally a damn burst within me and I cum on his hand. His fingers are pushed against my bruise and I cum hard and I scream from the dual pain and pleasure. Each is as strong as the other. My eyes are quickly filled with tears as I start to cry, gut wrenching sobs from somewhere deep within me.

The man removes his finger and the speculum. I barely notice as I continue to sob. My legs are adjusted back to their resting position. If I looked I could see him, this man who made me confess absolutely everything, who debased me harder than all the men I had inplusively fucked all together. With the others, it wasn't personal, they hard barely so much as looked at me before they fucked me. But this was personal, so fucking personal. I closed my legs and raised them to my chest. I wasn't just sobbing from the pleasure and the pain. I was sobbing because something had broken in me and there was no turning back.

Time passed as I continued to sob. I heard the man moving around, the sound of gloves being removed, running water, the tap being turned off. It barely registered. Eventually the sobs started to dwindle as I exhausted myself. My face was as wet, sloppy and ruined as my cunt.

Suddenly, there was a masculine hand on my shoulder. I flinched and he just chuckled, reaching down to grab the privacy sheet and using it to clean up my face. “There, there.” He said, tone equal parts comforting and condescending. He brought the paper up to my nose. “Now blow.”

I complied, the last of the liquid in my face removed. He then threw out the paper and grabbed a towel. Gently he opened up my legs and began mopping up my wetness. Again, I complied, I couldn't resist even if I tried, even if I wanted to.

I kept my eyes closed as he cleaned me and kept myself as still as possible. If he wanted to clean me, then he would clean me. If he wanted me to cum, I would cum, if he wanted me in pain, I would be in pain. My feelings on the matter were not important, I simply had to do what I was told. I simply had to be.

“Thats better.” He said with satisfaction. He closed my legs and lifted them up by the ankles with one hand. He raised me up till my ass was exposed and gave it a hard slap.

I gasped at the pain, but did nothing, said nothing. I was nothing, but a body.

“Very good.” He said approvingly as he put me back down. “I see you are starting to internalize your truth.” He released my ankles and started running his hands all over my body. Touching with the grace of a man admiring a luxury car. “Can you tell me what that truth is?”

“That I am an object.” I said simply, my voice barely above a whisper. “And my purpose is to be used by men.”

“That’s a good girl.” He said with relish. He grabbed the sides on my face like a relative about to pinch the cheeks of a rosy child. “Do you want to be used for your purpose?”

“Yes, please.” I find myself saying before I could stop myself. Should what I want be considered at all? But again my eager mouth spoke for me. “I want to be used by you so bad. I will do anything to please you. I want you to feel so good, sir. Please use my body.”

He let out a sign, was he disappointed? I couldn't tell because then he was gently pulling my face forward. I let him pull me from the chair, down on to my knees. His hands still held my face as he aimed me at his crotch.

Instinctively, I started to undo his button and fly. I felt my heart start to race as I felt how hard he was. My mouth opened and watered as I unbuttoned his underwear. I heard chuckle again, muttering about me being good enough and my cunt clenched in pride. Pleasure and pain burned within me as I fished out his cock with my trembling hands. I opened my eyes and beheld him for the first time in all his masculine glory. This was all I needed to see. This was all I ever needed to see.

Gently he pushed his cock into my mouth. I took him all the way to the base and he held me there as his hands moved into my hair. They ran thru it soothingly, causing me to shudder and moan. For the first time, I looked up at him, bright fluorescent lights glaring behind him.

“There is still work to do on breaking you.” His hands then gripped my hair tightly as he began to thrust roughly into my mouth. “But this is a good start.”

Chapter Nineteen

The seven day trip will be covered in seven reports, alternating between Emma and Elizabeth, Emma starting first for day one, and Elizabeth day two etc. etc.

(Officially, no names are allowed and all slaves are referred to by their number. Slaves are also required to refer to themselves as "this slave" and use "it" instead of "her".)

Number: Slave 1001

Class: 1A

Activity: One Week Pet Play Camp

This is a report on the annual school trip, in which this slave attended a one-week long pet play focused experience camp with its class. This report includes a detailed recollection of all important events during the trip in this slave's perspective, and all personal reflections gathered throughout and at the end of the trip. This slave is eternally grateful to the academy for granting it such an incredibly opportunity.

On the first day, this slave woke up at 6am sharp, attended the daily morning routine, and waited patiently at the designated area alongside its class, after which it travelled to the academy pet play facility up north, 100 miles from the county town in the mountains, the facility is an academy owned location specialised in research and pet training, specifically in behaviour control. As such, this slave has been incredibly aroused by this trip, merely through the mentioning of "behavioural conditioning". Upon reflection at the end of this trip, this slave has decided to embrace and explore more on this topic, and will dedicate more time and resources on ensuring this slave to acquire a satisfactory degree of knowledge regarding this topic.

This slave had been incredibly thrilled before the trip, only for it to amplify tenfold through the arrival method. This slave was first knelt inside of a cage, then it had its hands and ankles secured through a set of cuffs attached to the cage, and finally a shock collar was attached. This slave was then loaded onto a train as cargo akin to an animal being taken to the butchers. This slave and its class was then unloaded by conveyor belts, and the binds were released apart from the shock collar. The class was then given a long set of leashes, whose members upon command, leashed one another in a huge chain, got on all fours, and crawled approximately 5 miles in the cold up a mountain path to the research facility. The shock collar would shock this slave and the other slaves in a random unpredictable pattern, rendering this slave incredibly humiliated and degraded, which this slave enjoyed a lot.

The central premise around the camp was that all slaves would be lowered to nothing but an object that vaguely acts in the form of an animal, with some sprinkles of behavioural alteration, which slaves were briefed would be ineffective as soon as the camp ends, as the intent was not to truly condition this class of slaves, but rather a one-week experience such that if slaves are interested in such an idea, it can pursue it in-depth in future years. Despite the intention for this experience to be a temporary effect, this was applied from the very beginning during the transport before this slave even realised. This proved to be very beneficial to fully immersing and enjoying this experience.

As soon as this slave arrived at the facility, the rigorously planned experience kicked into top gear. All slaves were unleashed from one another, and were ordered to crawl on all fours into four rows, thereafter knee and elbow pads were attached to all slaves, slaves were then ordered to sit in the standby slave position, and were given the main briefing for the week.

The briefing started with the rules for the entire week:
All slaves shall employ their utmost effort in maintaining good behaviour adhering to the principle and spirit of this camp, to be behaviourally trained such that the slave is rendered unable to behave as a human but rather as a generic animal, and as such to serve no purpose bar fulfilling all wishes of its master, mostly within the wider context of pet play.
All slaves shall not speak unless spoken to and given explicit command to. Violations shall be met with an electric shock applied post haste via the shock collar automatically.
All slaves shall only eat specially designed food which resembles that of pet food, on all fours with their mouths only, akin to that of a pet.
All slaves shall only be served water through a bowl, out of which a slave must drink from free of any and all external support such as using hands.
All slaves shall only excrete at specific times into a corner of a wall with a drain below, with one leg up in a manner comparable to canines marking their territories.
All slaves shall only crawl on all fours, protection pads are handed out and must be changed every day and must be equipped at all times. When explicitely stated, slaves must assume normal posture such that no spinal damage or injury would be inflicted.
All slaves shall sleep only in specifically designated dog beds located inside of a labelled cage.
All slaves shall follow all instructions at all times without hesistance.
All slaves must prioritise their own safety at all times, all concerns are without consequences and must be raised as soon as possible.
All slaves shall for the duration of this experience, be referred to as "this pet" and "it".

The briefing then described the basic timetable for the week. The basic daily structure will be as follows:
6:00 Sharp All pets must wake up.
6:00 to 7:00 Morning routine.
7:00 to 7:30 Breakfast.
7:30 to 8:00 Breakfast cleanup, on all fours with special equipment and soap/sponge in mouth.
8:00 to 9:00 Morning walk, fully naked and leashed hike in the woods/mountain trail. (Note: not on all fours and subject to change)
9:00 to 9:30 Cage time (rest).
9:30 to 12:00 Pet behaviour class.
12:00 to 12:30 Lunch.
12:30 to 13:00 Lunch cleanup.
13:00 to 14:00 Afternoon Walk, fully naked and leashed on all fours with ankles bound (using elbow and knee pads).
14:00 to 14:30 Standing cage time (rest).
14:30 to 16:00 The basic theory on behavioural training.
16:00 to 19:00 Free time, pets are encouraged to explore the facility and enjoy activities.
19:00 to 19:30 Dinner.
19:30 to 20:00 Dinner cleanup.
20:00 to 23:00 Punishment time, free time, activity time, pets are punished during this slot, and upon release, are allowed free time. Should there be activities scheduled, depending on its nature and whether it is compulsory, pets must (or can) join the activities scheduled.
23:00 to 24:00 Free time, this slot ensures pets are given time to cleanup or prepare for bed should the previous slot be an activity slot.
Before 24:00 Bed time, pets are allowed to go to bed early should it be free time, pets must be in bed by 24:00.

The first and last day however are slightly different, given that pets will need to travel to and from the academy, all pets are given free time except for meal times, (and subsequent clean up), rest times and some walks, all in the same time slot as the general timetable.

Lunch was immediately served upon completion of the briefing, all slaves were sat on the floor and fake dog food was served. The food and texture was extremely creative, it tasted like genuine dog food but far less unappealing, it also contained all of the required nutrients for a slave to function healthily, as described by a poster nearby. The food was semifluid, slightly viscous, and was served in a dog bowl. Unlike the academy canteen, slaves were not bound to the floor, but were encouraged to dig their heads very deep into the bowl to eat. The food was different to the gruel slaves are usually given, but far less human. There was great enjoyment in being allowed to fully let go and push this slave's head into the food. Water was allowed at all times, each slave was given a specific pet bowl which refils with water upon licking an empty bowl (there was a sensor/button at the bottom) in the canteen area.

The afternoon walk then commenced. It was a different trail to the morning hike up to the facility. This slave was on all fours with its arms and forearm tied together, and its legs and knees tied together. This slave, alongside its class, were hiked through a section of the woods, it took immense care to prevent scratching or other forms of injuries, as it turned out, walking on all fours inside of the woods on mud and dirt was surprisingly difficult and dangerous. In fact, it was extremely tiring, it took immense physical stamina to endure such a journey. It was also at this moment that this slave knew the importance of the elbow and knee pads, such this slave not be wearing them, it is extremely likely that this slave would've injured itself. During the walk, this slave was given sticks to fetch, balls to bite and throw, and the class was told to bark in unison.

The walk was a truly immersive and enjoyable experience, the exhibitionism and degradation hightened this slave's arousal immensely, and it looked forward to every other walk on its stay. The walks on this trip has greatly increased this slave's interest in exhibitionism and outdoor play, which it intends to explore further in the upcoming times.

Soon after, this slave had the 30 minute standing cage break, the intention of this break is to ensure no spinal damage is caused by the long time this slave would spend crawling, it ensured that its body is given a good enough time to relax its muscles. The standing cage was tiny and cold, this slave had its collar tied to the back and could still feel the metal bars barely touching its skin. Surprisingly tho, it was incredibly arousing to be locked in a standing cage in rows like dolls being packed in a row readying to be shipped at the factory. This slave felt thoroughly humiliated and degraded, which it enjoyed immensely. The 30 minute period was not long enough for this slave to feel tired, nor was it particularly comfortable. It was certainly a different experience for this slave, however it is uncertain if this is a path it would be particularly interested in pursuing.

This slave was then given free time, in which it explored the facility with fellow slaves, slave 1002 (Elizabeth) and slave 1003 (Emily). This slave truly appreciates the free time given, as it was evident that free time was as good an opportunity as classes and scheduled activities, slaves could explore and enjoy specific parts of pet play which they are interested in. The part this slave explored on the first day was the hynotisation laboratories, which whilst being on the timetable of activities, was an enjoyable journey to discover and learn.

Finally, slaves had dinner and were given time to clean up and ready for bed. The dinner procedures were identical to that of lunch, the food was different yet still felt like animal food, which this slave was truly impressed by, the ability to produce human food which taste and feel like animal food must have taken a significant amount of research. Afterwards, this slave cleaned up as per usual, and head to bed. The "bed" was in reality a dog bed situated within the confines of a mediocre sized kennel, stacked in threes in a massive row. Slaves were to bed inside of the constraints and have their cage labelled with their number, members of the facility would patrol two times at night to ensure the safety and presence of all slaves. This degree of exposure was different to the constant camera streaming of the academy. This slave has never been so aroused by the idea of being confined and watched regularly.

In conclusion, this report summarises the first day of the trip, this slave discovered its massive interest in exhibitionism and degradation, and wishes to pursue further in these fields. This slave wholeheartedly enjoyed this first day, and looked forward to the rest of the experience. This was a unique trip, with a unique beginning, which brought many ideas which this slave would be interested in experiencing both later in the trip, and outside of the trip.

I told him I wanted to try being tied up and used whenever he felt like it. I didn’t think he would actually take it this far.

He came over in the afternoon and made me strip in the living room. He used soft rope to tie my wrists together in front of me, then bent me over the arm of the couch and tied my ankles to the legs so I couldn’t close them. After that he fucked me. No warm-up, no teasing. Just raw and deep until he came inside me. He didn’t even let me cum.

When he was done he didn’t untie me. He just pulled my panties back up, patted my ass, and told me he’d be back later. Then he left.

I stayed bent over that couch for almost four hours.

At first I kept calling his name, thinking he was joking. But he actually left the apartment. I could hear people walking past in the hallway outside. Every time I tried to move, I felt his cum leaking out of me and soaking into my panties. I was dripping down my thighs and there was nothing I could do about it.

When he finally came back he acted like it was the most normal thing in the world. He walked in, grabbed a drink from the fridge, then came over and pulled my panties to the side again. He didn’t even say hello. He just pushed back inside me and started fucking me while I was still tied up and messy from earlier.

He came in me again, then left me there for another hour before he finally untied me. By the time he let me up my legs were shaking so bad I could barely stand and I was leaking down to my knees. He made me stay naked and sit on a towel on the floor while he watched TV, like I was just part of the furniture now.

I’ve never felt that used in my life. I also can’t stop thinking about doing it agai

Mindy was seriously furious at that rider, anxious for Andrea, and annoyed by the world in general. These were good ponies, but Andrea was short of getting her third and last strike.

She had a lot of promise, and she knew Melissa had fallen for her eyes and tits and would want to claim her if she passed the tests. She needed to make sure Andrea didn’t self-sabotage again. They had files on everyone. Mindy knew how Andrea had blown university. But she would make a good pony… in time and with stricter control.

She had a brief chat with the director about the incident. It was now up to him to decide what happened to Clara. She would just throw her out of the Farm, not even giving her the chance to become a pony instead. She was not the right fit for that, but it wasn’t her decision. Worse, sometimes money spoke louder than common sense.

It should not, but in the end, it always did, one way or another.

When Mindy returned to the meadow behind the stables, she saw the ponies lying on the grass together, Maria in their midst. Melissa watched over them. At least she could depend on her to ensure the ponies were fine. In time, Melissa would take over Mindy’s role when Mindy retired — if she passed the test. She was clever but not good at learning from books.

Mindy needed to assess how deep the damage from that accident had gone. She didn’t think it went too deep, but the ponies needed to know that they could 1000% depend on their riders to keep them safe. That was important. As much as they needed to lose their free will, it was important that they also remained a human, just as a pony. Nobody wanted a mindless drone; they needed to keep their personalities but then needed to trust their riders unconditionally.

They needed to trust their riders even as they were subjected to fucking, whipping and anything else. They could baulk, they could run, they could deny the riders, but they needed to trust them. That was the point.

“Ponies. There still needs to be punishment meted out for speaking,” she said, leaning on the fence next to Melissa.

Maria moved first. Getting up without arms had become easier, but still, it took a bit of time. Andrea followed, and then the other two.

Maria approached her, turning her head this way and that. Mindy clucked softly to help her find her. She came and put her head against her, and Mindy petted her.

“Good filly. Everything will be all right.”

Andrea arrived and stood next to Maria, flank to flank, showing her support and accepting what would come. “You too, Andrea. Good pony.”

The rest of the ponies came, too. Mindy was relieved, no real lasting damage.

Andrea knew that she might get punished too; she had spoken. So she would accept whatever would come. She didn’t want to end her life in a slum brothel, even if it meant she would have to marry a woman. She could sense Melissa’s perfume and knew she was there.

For Maria, it was fair. She had broken the rules. The easy rules that had been set. But still, she had broken them, and she felt ashamed. Her life here was easy compared with her life before. So much easier. She did not have to fear being raped, killed, or maimed. Sure, she was required to have sex here and be taken whenever a rider desired her, but she had chosen this, knowing full well what it meant. She didn’t have to scramble for food; she was hand-fed three times a day. She didn’t need to fight for a spot in the shower and some dripping stream of tepid water; she was washed with sweet-smelling soap and cared for. And still, she had broken the rules. Punishment was fair.

As George arrived, he pushed himself in front of Maria and Andrea, protecting them and snorting, signalling that he would take their punishment. Julia stepped up next to him.

“OK. Good Colt. Wanting to protect your herd. You have come a long way.” And she petted his muscly chest. “You too, Julia. You have been pulling the heavy plough all by yourself and taking the fucking lessons very well.” She said as she caressed Julia’s boobs. “But rules are rules. A rider keeps his word. You need to depend on our word. Andrea and Maria, you will be caned for speaking. Maria, understand this. Not for running away, for speaking. The rider who was supposed to keep you safe has been dismissed. She failed at her task.”

That was something Maria hadn’t known. She had been too much in her own world to hear Mindy talk to the riders. She thought she was punished for running away. Mindy’s words meant much more to her than she would ever know. They bound her more tightly to this life as a pony. A rider had to take care of their pony, and if they failed, there were consequences for them too. It filled her with a completely different outlook on her future life.

Mindy looked at them; Maria stood tall and nodded. Andrea pushed forward between Julia and George and nodded too. Both accepted what had to be done. Knowing they had broken the rules and accepting the consequences.

“Good ponies. You are brave, and you accept your punishment.” Mindy caressed Andrea’s cheek and then took her bridle. “You’re first. Come.”

“I’ll do her. You can do Maria,” Melissa said, taking Andrea’s bridle from Mindy.

Mindy only rolled her eyes and shook her head, but let go. She had so fallen for that pony that it wasn’t even funny anymore. But, well… twenty years ago, it had been her. That colt, her husband now, that hadn’t gotten out of her mind. So, she had branded and married him.

“Come, Andrea, it is time I make you cry for a change.” And she guided Andrea to the side. Andrea followed, better than a dirty chain.

“You are going to stand and take the cane. Don’t move. You can cry and shout as much as you want. I actually like to hear it. Sorry but I’m just made that way.”

Melissa took a cane from Mindy and smacked Andrea’s arse hard, a glint of excitement on her face. Andrea cried out with the impact and from the pain she had not yet known. This was worse than the whip, much worse. But she had to endure it. Stand and take it. She could do that. She bit down on her bit as the cane bit into her butt cheeks and then let out a cry of pain.

“I love hearing you cry like that.” And she hit her again. Andrea was lost in the pain after the first strokes, only trying to keep standing. Her knees were shaking. Then it was over, and Melissa hugged her from behind. Her hands were on her tits, caressing her and holding her close. “Well done, my pony. You did so well. I’m totally wet from your cries, are you? No? Oh well, you will learn to like it. You will.” Melissa whispered into her ear while caressing her body.

Maria was screaming in pain, too, as Mindy caned her, but she took it. She had deserved it; the pain was intense, and it was hard to take it, and she knew she would feel that for some days to come. But when Mindy cuddled her afterwards, she felt better. “That was well done, too. Good pony. Good filly. Oh, look, you two turned the colt on. He is all stiff and throbbing.”

Melissa had taken Andrea into a proper embrace, cuddling her, letting her sob and talking to her. More and more, Andrea let herself sink into the hold, into the warmth and the caressing hands. She could accept this. It wasn’t so bad.

Julia was a bit jealous about the attention that Andrea got from Melissa. She wanted to be cuddled too. She stomped hard with her hooves. Melissa chuckled. “Come here, Julia. Come. Here, you get some cuddles, too.” And Julia moved toward her and pushed her head against Melissa and Andrea.

Mindy said, “You want some cuddles too, George? I know you are all excited, but you can’t have a filly. Here, have a treat instead. You too, Maria, you’re a good pony.”

Maria started crying, too, and Mindy cuddled and held her. “It’s all good. You are doing well. You will be a good pony.”

In the programme, everyone had at least two breakdowns. The first occurs when they realise their old life is over, and the second when they finally accept being a pony. Some had more than two, but there are usually two major ones. The second requires care, whereas the first requires pain.

Mindy let them all rest a bit more on the grass in the sun. Normally, this would come later in the training, but today, it did the herd good and stabilised them as ponies. That was all that was required. It was Mindy’s job to figure out how to stabilise their pony identity.

As the sun went down, the whole herd grew more relaxed, and Mindy was happy that many positives had come out of this accident. There had been incidents in the past that had not worked out so well. Producing skittish or even unstable ponies.

“OK, it’s time for evening training. Who wants to be first?” Julia stomped with her hooves. She would go first.

Mindy and Melissa guided them back to the main stables, where the other riders waited. One by one, they took their charges to evening training.

Andrea was handed back to the rider she had started the day with. Melissa gave her a affectional slap on her butt. “Have fun and learn to be a good pony. I'll see you in the next few days.”

And with that, they were back into the rhythm of the days. Being touched, being fucked by machines, by riders, fed, washed, cared for, pulling the plough, walking across ever more challenging terrain.

The small differences that happened were what kept the days apart for the ponies and made them special. Such as when the dildos in their belts were upgraded or when they moved on from machines fucking them to riders, teaching them how to stand and what noises to make and so on.

But there were other moments, too.

“Hey, my colt, did you miss me?” George heard one morning and then felt strong hands on him. He wanted to get away, fight. But the hands were stronger, holding him, and he relaxed into them, into the strong embrace that engulfed him.

“I know you need the fight, and I like you fighting and giving in. Come let me play with your balls and your nice thick dick while you eat. Did you notice it got more girth? The vacuum is working nicely. Make you all hard, and if you are a good colt, I will fuck you tonight, slow and deep and make you cum. Would you want that?” George shook his head, stomping his hooves. No, he did not want this.

George felt the strong hand on his shoulders and then a kiss-bite in his neck that sent an electric current through his body directly into his balls and dick. Heny chucked into his ear while kissing his neck. “For someone who doesn’t want it, you get hard very fast. But that’s ok, I understand. I will fight you down. Let’s get your day started.”

George was again confused by his body's reaction. Confusion was somehow the only constant he often felt when his old life collided with being a pony. At least this rider had the strength to handle him, and he liked that. It was a man he could trust. A man who cared about him.

In the evening, Henry, his rider, made love to him. He was strong but still caring and emotional. George lost himself in that feeling of being handled, taken and cared for at the same time. Henry knew what he was doing. George had never been handled like that. He had always been the active one, never the passive one. Especially because Henry gave him something George had never given anyone else. Henry made him cum at the same time as he came himself in his arse, and it felt so good.

George liked it more than he would like to admit to himself. Not the fucking in his arse that wasn’t bad, but didn’t turn him on; however, the lovemaking did. But more importantly, Henry stayed with him for longer, even after lights out, just caressing him. Not saying a word, just stroking his body. Just staying with him until he fell asleep.

Julia was greeted by the older man again, who had first taken her, and she liked him. His voice was low, and his beard did funny things to her when he put his head between her tits. She hoped he would claim her, so she made sure to give him her very best. He made her pull the heavy plough by herself, and she did as best as she possibly could.

“You are getting strong. I can’t wait to put you in front of a sulky and let you race. Would you like that?” Her head came up. She had always thought she would become one of these show ponies that you saw on TV from time to time, but a race pony? Maybe something to think about. She had found stability and purpose in pulling that plough, getting her legs dirty and her body sweaty. Showing everyone that she was not only some pretty pony who didn’t want to get dirty. She also liked to be fucked in the arse by male riders. Liked it when they unloaded deep in her. It was so un-show-pony-like, so dirty and forbidden. Especially if they made her cum while they pumped their load into her.

Maria sensed that there were multiple riders who were interested in her. She could feel that, but she was not sure what to do about it. She was not the one who chose, so she doubled her efforts whenever one of those riders looked after her.

At some stage, it changed again. Riders changed at midday and then later each meal. The ponies became used to being handled and accepted whatever hand took their bridle. Sure, each of them had their favourite rider or riders, but it wasn’t their choice.

But today started very differently. After feeding, Mindy announced. “Take the lenses out and the normal blinkers on.” And one by one, the lenses were removed. They had been blinded for a long time. Time had stopped being important to them, and no pony knew the day or even the month they were in, nor did they really care. After this long time, it was overwhelming to see again. The lenses let light through, so they had not lost anything, but there was so much more input now.

“Hi. I like your real eyes much better.” Said Melissa and then attached real blinkers to Andrea’s bridle.

Andrea hadn’t paid much attention to how Melissa looked before, but now she did. Her long blonde hair was tucked into a bun under her riding helmet, her figure was womanly, and she stood just a head shorter than Andrea. Her smile was a little crooked but amused.

“Like what you see?” She asked shyly, and Andrea nodded her head and stomped once. Of all the riders, she showed her the most care and attention.

Melissa’s eyes lit up. “Good. Listen. You need to trust me completely now. It’s important.” Now her eyes pleaded with her. “Please don’t fuck this up.”

Melissa was nervous. She had laid claim to Andrea, given that she passed the test to come. Melissa knew how Andrea had failed so spectacularly before; it had been the talk of the whole society. She didn’t want that for them. Andrea would be the pony she would take home and marry.

She knew it would still be a long road for them. Branding her, making Andrea love her and eventually breeding her. Melissa took a deep breath and petted Andrea. Only Andrea could now destroy that future.

George looked into Henry’s eyes, and as he did, he knew. Henry would claim him. George had given up the fight. He had given up pretending he did not care. Henry cared for him, and George trusted him. That was all that mattered now. No words were said as Henry attached the normal blinkers to his bridle.

The first thing Julia saw was the full beard of her rider, and she was happy to see him. “Today is special. Be the best pony you can be.” She nodded, and he nodded, too, smiling.

For Maria, it was the older woman, one of the three riders who had shown her the most attention. “You need to be on your best behaviour today.” Maria blew out and put her shoulders back, standing straight.

All of them were washed and taken together to the mounting chair again. They had lost all fear of the chair; they just didn’t like it. It had been hard to be fucked by the machines, especially the last days when they all had to endure large dildos in their holes and the hardest deep-throat training they had had. But that lay behind them now.

But today, they were trimmed and shaved. Landing strips and clean arseholes for everyone. In George’s case, his balls and shaft were shaved clean and oiled.

“You will get your final hairstyle and then laser hair removal from your owner if and when you are claimed, based on whatever he or she decides you should look like.”

Then they were oiled, made pretty and dressed in shining new bridles and body harnesses. Their arms were folded behind their backs and secured there, just like they had seen on Julia when she arrived. The dildo belts that had been their constant companion for a long time were not attached. It felt a bit strange to be empty like that but also easier to walk.

“Now you look like true ponies…. let’s see if you are. We start with the lead. Melissa, take Andrea.”

All the ponies could sense that today was special and that something was about to happen. They became a bit skittish.

Melissa clipped a lead into Andrea’s bridle and guided her out of the stable, over the courtyard and behind the big house, to an arena that was set up with obstacles.

All the other riders, as well as the stable hands, sat in the stands around the arena. In front of one side sat three riders at a table, four long horsetails in front of them.

Evaluation time. Andrea breathed in deeply and let it out slowly. “Don’t be nervous, Andrea. Just trust me and do what you have been doing for the last few weeks. Be the pony you are. Show them. “Melissa's voice became soft, “Show me.“

She swallowed hard, but the picture of a dirty chain leading from her neck to an even dirtier wall would not get out of her mind. She had worked hard, real hard, not to end up with the last option.

Melissa tugged at her bridle. “Breathe. Everything will be good. You are a pony. Just be a pony and trust me.”

She would pass the test, she would be branded, she would marry and whatever happened after that.

They entered the arena, and Melissa announced Andrea, and then they were off. Walking and even, at one stage, running along the parcours . She jumped when she was told to. She ducked when she was told to. The obstacles on the parcours were easy, but it was harder than she thought. With her eyes back, she needed to really let go and trust, not let her brain override what her rider told her to do, not anticipate, not plan, just follow.

Then the obstacles became scary, really scary. Due to the blinkers, she couldn’t see what was to her left or right and not much of what was ahead of her. But she understood what this was. It was the ultimate test of free will against dependence and obedience. She let go, let Melissa take her reins, and followed her lead. Trusting her with her life.

The first real scary obstacle was a small wooden log over red-hot coals, so hot she could feel the heat radiating off them. She didn’t even look down; she had walked across this kind of obstacle before, many times. Now, her eyes told her to be afraid, but she needed to trust her rider, not her eyes.

She set her hooves on the wood, fixed her eyes on some point far ahead, and walked.

A running chainsaw at neck level had to be ducked under, just as she had ducked many times under a branch before. The only difference was that it was loud and looked scary.

A narrow, winding corridor of razor-sharp barbed wire had to be walked like the path through the brambles. It only looked scarier. Let Melissa care about that.

Then, they came to a corridor where canes and whips swung from mechanical arms. This would hurt, this would really hurt.

Melissa let her bridle go. “Stay,” she commanded and then walked around the obstacle to the other side.

“Come to me, pony.” She said, and Andrea stepped into the maelstrom of canes and whips and walked through it. She bit her bit hard, grunting with each impact of the canes and whips, and kept walking at the same pace as she had before until she reached her rider. She was in tears when she finally reached Melissa.

Melissa looked very pleased as she took Andrea’s bridle and walked her to the judges.

“Andrea. 9, 9.5 and 10 for a total of 9.5. Pass.”

Melissa jumped up and down, shouting excitedly. “9.5? Wow. That’s amazing, Andrea. You are a pony now. A true pony.”

One of the judges handed Melissa one of the horsetails. It had a butt plug on it as well as a buckle for her harness.

“Clear the arena for the next contestant,” one of the judges announced, and Melissa guided them back to the stables to her stall, a broad smile on her face.

Andrea was not sure what had happened. Was 9.5 a lot? But they had said ‘Pass’. So she had passed, she had finished something? She had succeeded in something? There had been applause. Andrea was hurting, but she was also elated. Finally, she started shaking and crying.

“Come here. I hold you. You have been amazing. Fearless and walking proud.” Andrea stepped into Melissa’s arms and put her head on her shoulder, crying big pony tears.

“Just cry. Let it go. It’s all right. You made it. You are a pony. Now you can be trained properly… and claimed.”

Andrea was still sobbing. She wouldn’t end up at the end of the filthy chain.

Maria was next, and she let go as much as possible, but it was hard. She had always been someone who wanted and needed to control everything around her. She had lost this over the last weeks and had given in to be led, but with her eyes back, it was hard.

Maria almost refused at the first scary obstacle, the log over the coals, but her rider pulled her along, and after the first few steps of being unsure and overthinking it, she blew out and just closed her eyes and then it worked. She kept her eyes closed until she heard her rider say ‘Stay’ and saw the corridor of pain ahead of her. Her rider awaited her at the other end. She gulped. She knew how much this would hurt.

“Come to me, pony,” her rider said, and after taking a deep breath, she hurried through the punishment as fast as she could.

“Maria. 8, 8, 8.5, for a total of 8.1. Pass.” Her rider was given a horsetail, and they moved back to the stalls.

“You did very well, Maria. I’m proud of you. You are a good pony.” Her rider said, and she felt like the Queen of the world even as her body hurt from the last obstacle.

George was next, and he was guided by Henry. He felt like a total idiot in front of all these people. Made to prance around like that. Then they hit the real obstacles, and he finally understood. He let go of his will and his embarrassment and let Henry guide him. The coals were all right, but the chainsaw freaked him out, and he almost defied Henry. He had always been tall, taller than everyone else, and had grown up constantly banging his head. He had to duck really deep to clear this obstacle.

Henry whispered, almost inaudible, “Breathe, trust.” And George closed his eyes and followed Henry’s lead as a last tear left his eye. He was nothing but a pony now, trusting his rider absolutely. His pride did not matter. His rider’s lead mattered.

The punishment corridor was not that hard; he could take it. It hurt, hurt like hell, but he could take it. What was hard was walking towards his rider, the person who would likely claim him and make him his pony. Walking through the pain to him meant he accepted him as his rider. That was hard.

“George. 6.5, 7, 7.5 for a total of 6.8. Pass”

Henry was given a horsetail and rubbed George’s shoulder, hard and affectionate. “That was acceptable. You could have been much better. We’ll get there. But you passed. That counts.”

Last was Julia, guided by the rider with the beard. As she came to the arena, she was fascinated and excited. This was what she had always dreamed about.

The obstacles were fun, and she performed at her best, with her head held high, legs long, and well-articulated movement. Then they hit the scary obstacles, and it was like a punch to her stomach. This wasn’t fun anymore; it was deadly serious. These obstacles could injure or even kill her. She started shaking and tossed her head. The last weeks had been hard and full of change. She had lost her childish ideas under the whip and the fucking machines. Now, she needed to prove that she had grown up.

tightened her core as she had done with the plough and walked on. The last obstacle was the hardest for her. She had to do it alone, walk into pain alone. Everywhere she had been last week, there had been a rider or her lead mare, someone she could trust. Now, she needed to walk into and through pain alone.

“Come to me pony.” Yes, she was a pony, and yes, she would come, and she stepped into the pain, trying to keep her posture even as her body was tormented. She hurried through it as much as possible.

She was crying hard and a sobbing mess when she finally reached her rider.

“Julia. 9, 9, 9. For a total of 9. Pass”

Julia was sobbing but elated, a 9. She had scored a 9, which was extremely good. She hurt, real hurt. Her body had red stripes and some deep lacerations, but she had passed the pony test. She was now a real pony, ready to be claimed and start her real life. Finally.

Chapter Seventeen

This and the next chapter are shorter than the usual, as they serve as a bridge between two plot lines, normal lengths will resume in Chapter 20.

In the blink of an eye, its the last day of the school festival. So far the "Clone The Vagina" project was a huge success, turns out the pussy model of freshly 18 teens were incredibly popular on the internet, who could have guessed, Emma's class almost broke the school record of selling cloned vaginas, a feat never done before by first years.

In order to properly finish off this massive event, the entire day consists of performances, and a final closing ceremony. In the closing ceremony, prizes are given to classes and slave trainees who had an excellent performance. Of course, as per every other event, the ceremony is livestreamed for the loyal customers of the academy.

The ceremony lasts for about three hours in total, Emma and Elizabeth alongside the other slaves are sat down in a kneeling position, with their legs cuffed to the ground, and their hands tied aside on the ground as well. A solid metal bar is attached between the collar and the ground behind their backs, designed such that slaves can actually hold in such a position for three hours. The position is agonising and Emma started to hurt about 30 minutes in, the pole however does not allow any slacking and maintains the strict upright position.

Like most assemblies, the ceremony starts with the entrance of the headmaster, the deans, the rest of the faculty... Then it is the national anthem, the academy song, and the summary report by the headmaster regarding the profits and performance of this school festival. "The total increase in percentage of net profit for the time period is a staggering 20%, the peak view count is 500 thousand, about 150 thousand above the previous year, the increase in membership application is about twenty thousand..."

For most people, perhaps except the shareholders, the address is incredibly slow and boring, as this is basically just a company's report and summary for this large event. Emma and Elizabeth str bored out of their minds. Fortunately, after a grand total of a full hour, the headmaster is done with the reports, and moves on to presenting the different prizes for this festival. The way prize giving presentation works is simple, all slaves are kneeling/sitting on a platform, the platform will rise should the slave win any prizes, and a dildo will be extended and the slave will orgasm in front of a camera, in front of the crowd, instead of the usual presentation of certificates.

"The class who gathered the most views is class 7A, may the class representatives receive their award." "The person who generated the most views is ..." etc. etc. Since Emma and Elizabeth are both in their first year, it is practically impossible for them to earn any awards, which means its simply being stuck in the kneeling position for another one and a half hours. While the orgasms were certainly a show that cannot be missed, Emma is feeling the true reasons why this academy is so successful in training slaves, it is the constant never ending all-including atmosphere and training of obedience, even in situations like this, slaves are required to obey and follow a specific set of rules for an extended period, it is small things like these that gets introduced everywhere in a slave's life, that the slaves become so well trained. The atmosphere of a high school further reinforces the idea that all slaves here are under the full surveillance and guardianship of the academy, it helps tremendously in developing the correct mindset for slaves.

Finally, with their backs aching in pain, and the metal bar still firmly holding their tired back in place, the headmaster moves on to his closing address, and the ceremony ends. All slaves are released from their position, and get the rest of their day off, the academy cleverly employs a stragetic set of rewards, fully making use of basic psychology to train the slaves into fully accepting their orders.

Oblivion.

It’s what she seeks as he pistons into her, her ample juices smoothing the way.

In her real life, her daytime life, she’s in control. Always. No exceptions. 

Here, she can let go.

Stop worrying about the next project, the next paycheck.

Stop making decisions.

Stop thinking.

Here, she can let someone else take control.

And he’s so good at taking control.

***

When she arrived that evening—clad in nothing but heels, stockings, and a garter belt under a long trench, as instructed—he yanked her through the doorway and pushed her up against the wall, his hand on her throat.

“You’re going to do exactly as I say,” he said, his lips close to her ear. She nodded, already whimpering, already wet and trembling with need.

His other hand worked the knotted belt at her waist, and the trench fell open. None of the buttons were fastened—just as he had instructed.

He held her to the wall by her throat, his other hand groping her all over as he pushed the coat from her shoulders. His hand slipped between her legs and suddenly his fingers were inside her, pumping in and out.

He chuckled softly in her ear. “Look how wet you already are. Look how much you want this.”

She could do nothing but whimper, her legs about to buckle.

His lips still close to her ear, he hissed, “On your knees. Now.”

He pulled his hand away from her throat and she dropped to her knees in front of him. A moment later he was pushing past her lips, his cock already hard, thrusting into her throat.

“Look at me.”

With an effort, she looked up, and his eyes blazed down at her as he fucked her mouth. He held her head steady as he slid further and further into her throat, her eyes beginning to tear. He wiped one tear away and then another, smearing her mascara as he choked her with his shaft. He drove her back against the wall, pushing into her throat until he could go no further. Then he held her there.

She felt a brief moment of panic as her air was cut off, and then conscious thought began to fade as her vision swam at the edges. She fought desperately to keep her eyes on his, but could feel them slipping gradually out of focus as she floated at the edge of consciousness. Just as the blackness closed in, he pulled away from her, freeing her throat.

She swayed and began to fall forward, but he grabbed her upper arm and yanked her to her feet. He dragged her, gasping, into the living room, where he bent her over the couch. His first thrust into her shut off the thinking part of her brain, and she became nothing but a vessel for pleasure.

He fucked her until she came, shaking and dripping; then he propped one of her legs up on the sofa and fucked her some more. She was wet all the way to mid-thigh now, soaking the lace tops of her stockings, and still he thrust into her. She came again, moaning, and he withdrew.

He scooped her limp body into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. He removed her shoes, then chained her ankles to the footboard and her wrists to the headboard. He looked at her for a moment as she lay there, dazed. Then he began to undress.

***

Now, he kneels between her spread thighs, pushing them apart as he thrusts into her. 

Her mind is blank, blissfully blank. The only thing that matters is the pleasure between her legs.

Hands move from her thighs to her waist to her breasts, stroking, caressing, pinching. She cries out and arches into him.

His breath at her ear. She can’t understand what he’s saying. It doesn’t matter.

His hands move back down to her waist and he lifts her hips toward him. The new angle is exquisite, pushing her over the edge again.

She comes for a third time, and still he thrusts into her, relentless. 

He whispers to her again, but the words are gibberish. Her mind can’t process anything beyond her own pleasure.

He pulls her toward him, resting her thighs on his, making light circles over her clit with his thumb. 

She can’t think; she can only feel. And this feels like it might drown her.

He’s still thrusting, bottoming out inside her over and over, forcing an involuntary grunt from her with each impact of his hips on hers. 

She’s immobilized with ecstasy, able to do nothing but wait for the wave to crash over her.

When it does, she loses what little control she had left. The orgasm bursts from her, fluids gushing from between her legs to soak the sheets.

Her eyes roll back as she thrashes, too far gone to even scream. 

And then she collapses, insensible, drifting in a semi-conscious haze. 

She lolls like a ragdoll, her body limp and slack, as he continues thrusting. 

As if from far away, she hears him grunt as he spurts inside her.

***

Half an hour later, he helps her back into her trench coat and leads her to the door.

“Same time next week?” he asks.

“You bet,” she says, a tremor in her voice. “Thank you, Dr. Harper.”

They shake hands and she departs, her legs trembling slightly as her therapist’s come drips down her thighs.

Chapter Sixteen

Apologies for the lack of updates, I have a few more chapters written already that will be posted on Reddit in the coming period of time.

"Clone a vagina", the relatively popular option classes go for during the school festival, involves the creation of vagina moulds with a kit, and taking photos for promotional services. Both of which cost a decent amount of points, therefore while it is usually a guaranteed success, selling cheap and authentic vaginal models and all, it is not the most popular or the most common choice. This is however, absolutely a safe option for performing at least at a mediocre level, and avoid any potential punishments for sub-par performance.

Emma, having finished the Public Livestream Challenge, is now able to pool in the points necessary with her classmates, to choose the top of the line photographers, and the best vagina moulding kits, afterall, if they do not have attractive photos as promotion, sales is still unlikely to be considered successful. According to the school festival, all activities must be livestreamed at all times, including the preparations, excluding all tracable details, so the class will need to take photos and mould their vagina live. While this may seem quite easy, being on camera and alert for hours upon hours is actually more difficult than anticipated for most of the class, and while most are not particularly camera shy, there is something especially humiliating about cloning your own vagina to be sold live.

The first step is to clone Emma's own vagina using a Clone-A-Pussy Vagina Casting kit. A scoop of moulding powder solidifies inside of Emma's vulva, and silicone is poured over the mould to recreate Emma's own pussy. As the cold solution solidifies inside of Emma, she poses herself in front of the camera for all the see, it is an interesting experience for Emma for sure. The entire process was livestreamed, and there was a high definition camera showing the solidification of the moulding powder inside of Emma, with another camera on her face showing her ever-changing emotions. After a while, the mould is removed and silicone is poured on top. Finally, it is left to dry for 24 hours, and a pocket pussy is produced.

Naturally, since this is to be sold, Emma needs to mass produce them, meaning a lot of moulds, and a lot of silicone being poured and dried. For a total of 8 hours straight, Emma, alongside her classmates, created almost 24 moulds, 3 per hour, and more than 100 pocket pussies are now being dried to be sold by the academy.

The second step is to take photos for promotional purposes, a photo of the girl completely naked, her vagina's cross section, and obviously the pocket pussy itself. Since the class pooled their points toghther, they managed to get the academy's finest photographer and editing team. The shooting itself was relatively straight forward, each girl strips naked, and gets their photo taken according to the instructions. However, due to the size of the class, the class basically an entire day naked inside of a studio waiting for their photos to be taken. Strangely enough, people actually enjoyed this livestream quite a lot because it showcased the daily life of students and genuine natural banter. Emma never really talked to her classmates before this, so she thoroughly enjoyed socialising with her fellow slave trainees.

At the end, the class successfully produced their pocket pussies for sale, and has acquired the accompanying photographs. Whether this will be a success, which will result in a reward of points, or a fail, which will result in a collective punishment, is yet to be seen. What can be said however, is that Emma certainly enjoyed every part of degrading herself and turning her own pussy into a business product for sale.

It was cramped. Dark. Mary was sweating and shaking, but doing everything she could think to stay still and silent. The many ropes forcing her body into a contorted ball helped with the first. The tongue trapping gag that completely filled her mouth deep enough to just tickle into her throat helped with the second, not so much the twisting, pulsating toy buried deep in her cunt and the cold, unyielding plug violating her ass. She had no clue how long she had been in the small storage compartment of their entryway table. Long enough that she had relaxed and settled into a rhythm of riding the rising and falling waves of pleasureable stimulation as her boyfriend, Jerry, manipulated the remote-controlled toy from somewhere in the apartment.  Hopefully he was enjoying listening to the whoreish noises he was eliciting from her.

However, that had rapidly changed when a polite but firm knock came from the door, mere inches from where she was sequestered. Though she had been sure no one would hear the toys and her shifting from outside, panic had fueled her desperate ceasing of all possible noises when Jerry opened the door and greet not just any solicitor or guest but her DAD!

"Mr. Miller! What a pleasant surprise!" Genuine amusement was in Jerry's voice. "Mary didn't say anything about you coming over."

How had she forgotten he was going to swing by on his way through town to drop off a box of stuff her mom thought she'd like to have.

"I would go get her you but she's a bit....tied up currently."

Humor was dripping off the quip. She was going to strangle him when she got out. They continued carrying on pleasantries as she kicked herself for forgetting as well as trying to ignore the increasingly intense vibrations and pulsations inside her. He was still playing with her! He knew she was in one of the most lewd deranged positions of her life and mere inches away her father stood holding pieces of her innocent childhood. And her man child of a boyfriend was pushing her to the edge. She barely swallowed a groan as she came past a particularly rough pattern and he let the toy relent slightly. The reprieve is short lived though as she feels it start to build again. Faster this time.

"Care for a drink? Or something to eat? I was just getting some steaks on. I don't think Mary is going to be free anytime soon though. I wouldn't mind the company."

He wouldn't! She could picture the satisfaction on Jerry's face at his second joke of her conundrum. To her horror though a thunk on the short table above predicts her father's obvious respones.

"Sure! The missus has quilting club tonight so I'm in no hurry. I'd actually really appreciate the excuse to stay away!"

This time a soft groan does escape. Fortunately though she could hear them walking away. The light slap of Jerry's feet to the fridge for beer and the heavier tread of her father to the small apartments living area and the couch....only a few steps from where she was sequestered.

She listens to them chat for a bit but ultimately loses the conversation as she turns her attention to staying quiet. Jerry knows her too well. He's switched the program of the toys assaulting her to one he knows gets her every time. And not subtly either. In the periphery of her awareness she hears the patio door open and close. Jerry stepped out to put the steaks on the grill. She zones out again. Nothing to root her attention outside the cabinet other than the soft drone of the sports broadcast Jerry had been watching earlier. The toys kick up another notch. She's getting close. If she could just grind the small vibrator that was just ever so slightly off the sweet spot on her clit, she could get the satisfaction she wanted before Jerry got back in. Forgetting, of course, the situation outside of her cabinet prison. And, of course, that she was even in a cabinet. A cheap one, too.

As she rocks her hips forward the miniscule amount she realizes she won't be able to move enough to get her orgasm. She does, however, manage to touch the usually discrete plastic toy to the laminated wood of the bottom of the cabinet. The rattling is instantaneous and LOUD. She jumps, ending the racket and somehow managing to bump the back of her head against the top cabinet, and her holes involuntarily seize around her body's intruders.

She hears movement. Someone has gotten off the couch and is walking towards her. Oh god. She's going to cum. Hard. And her dad is about to find out what a dirty slut she is. The pressure from the stimulation onslaught, further multiplied by the realization that this impending humiliation is turning her on even more, has her teetering on the edge. The table shakes as the cabinet at the other end is opened. Drawers are opened next, rifled through. The last one closes. The door to her compartment rattles as he grabs the handle. She resigns herself to her discovery. Suddenly, the attack on her sex goes silent.

"Mr. Miller, need help with something?"

She hears her dad jump. She jumps, too. Barely swallowing a startled squeak.

"Just thought I heard a phone. Figured Mary had set it to vibrate and thrown it in the drawer. Just didn't want her to miss the call."

What an innocent idea.

"Shoot. Yeah. I dont think she's expecting a call, but I'll let her know later."

Her breath is finally starting to settle.

"You've got a stuck door, by the way. Was just going to check the catch and see if I can fix it."

Panic floods through her again, and she completely stops breathing as the door rattles.

"Don't worry about it. I already have a new one ordered. It's a cheap cabinet anyway."

Jerry doesn't sound too confident either, but the draw of food and reassurance must be enough because footsteps move away.

Gentle vibrations start. He keeps her in a holding pattern now. Soft and steady. Keeping her turned on and frustrated but not doing anything to get her off. She quickly returns to a state of stasis. She contemplates how the rest of the night will probably go before she loses all sense of thought. Becoming once again, just a waiting, needy thing stored away.

Being let out of the cabinet. The relief of a few moments to stretch her cramped muscles. Of course, she won't have come yet, nor will the toys be removed. He'll offer her a chance to relieve herself or to tap out, she won't utilize either, before attaching a leash to the collar currently cutting into her neck. He'll walk her over to her place at the foot of his chair, where, if she's lucky, he'll remove the gag and let her eat the leftovers off his plate. He had made her favorite meal after all.

They'll spend the rest of the night like that. Hopefully he eventually treats her to his cock in one of her holes.

Her mind continues to wander that way. Drifting through a suspended state of want and distraction. She doesn't even hear the door open and their guest leave. Or Jerry clear the kitchen, a plate being sat on the floor in the living room, or him settling himself into his chair.

Soon, he'll open the cabinet door. But for now, she is content.

After a few months of light bondage and spanking, we decided to try something different full‑week chastity belt. I picked a stainless‑steel  with a tight‑fitting shield that locked over her pussy. The key hung around my neck on a leather cord, and I made it clear that only I could unlock it.

She wore it to work, et home, even to dinner with her friends. She’d text me pictures of the belt glinting under her skirt. By day three she was already whining, begging me to let her touch herself, but I just replied with a simple “Not yet.”

Day Seven – The Release

The morning of the seventh day I woke her up with a soft kiss on the forehead and a whispered, “Today’s the day.” She blinked up at me, eyes wide. I told her to strip down to the belt and kneel on the rug beside the bed. She obeyed, her thighs trembling as the cold steel pressed harder against her swollen lips.

I ran my fingers over the belt, feeling the heat radiating from her skin. “You’ve been a good girl,” I slipped a blindfold over her eyes, then grabbed the Hitachi wand I keep tucked in the nightstand. I set it to low and pressed the vibrating head against the top of the belt, right over her clit shield. The vibration traveled through the metal, making her gasp and arch her back. She started to moan, a low, needy sound that grew louder as I increased the intensity.

I wanted to make her feel every second of denial, and switched to a slow again. I’d press the wand hard for ten seconds, then pull back completely, letting the ache build.

I watched her chest rise and fall, her breath becoming rapid and shallow, the way her hips jerked involuntarily when the vibration hit just right. Every time she got close to the edge her breath hitching. I’d move the wand away and leave her hanging, dripping, desperate.

I kept a timer on my phone. Ten minutes in, she was already begging, “Please, Sir, let me come.” I answered with a soft slap to her thigh and a whisper, “Not yet.” Twenty minutes later, l could see the outline of her swollen lips pressing against the metal shield. I took glass buttplug and started to putting it slowly.

At the forty‑minute mark I decided to add a little spice. I slipped a silicone gag into her mouth. The gag muffled her whimpers, turning them into wet, gurgling noises. I continued the edging, now alternating between the wand and my own hand rubbing the belt’s shield with my thumb, then slipping a finger underneath to tease the entrance of her pussy, feeling how tight she was despite the plug in her ass.

When the timer hit fifty‑five minutes, I could see she was on the verge of breaking. Her back was arched, her ass lifted off the rug, the plug shifting slightly with each spasm. I leaned in, my lips brushing her ear, and growled, “One more minute. If you come before I say, you’ll wear the belt for another week.”

She whimpered, a sound half‑pain, half‑pleasure, and I could feel her pussy fluttering against the metal. At the sixty‑second mark I unlocked the belt with a slow, deliberate turn of the key, the metal clicking open. She screamed despite the gag as I slammed the wand for the first time onto her clit. I turned it to max, and held it there. Her body seized she screamed into the gag, a raw, animalistic howl that echoed off the walls. Her hips jerked forward, and then...

She squirted. A thick, hot stream shot from her, arcing and splattering onto the rug beneath her. It wasn’t just a little dribble it ran down her thighs, and pooled in a shiny puddle on the floor. She kept spurting, wave after wave, each one making her convulse and scream louder. I could feel the pulse of her orgasm as i hold her neck.

When the waves finally subsided, she collapsed forward, panting, her chest heaving, the gag slipping from her mouth as she gasped for air. I removed the wand, lifted the blindfold, smile spreading across her face.

Last night
Alex isn’t really sure when or where things went wrong in her life. She just feels like she’s been spiraling for as along as she can remember, she just never seems to hit rock bottom. It’s impressive she tells her self. How someone can fuck up so much and sink so low and somehow there’s always a lower place to go.

Dragged out on her birthday by some friends. She’s not even really sure why she agreed to go. Maybe I can drink enough to forget everything for a while she thinks to herself, or get alcohol poisoning and die in her sleep either sounds preferable than the tightness she feels in her chest. She’s so disassociated that the loud music or the conversation from her friends doesn’t even register as they all walk off to the dance floor.

A waitress in a pretty red dress stops by the table and grabs Alex’s attention. She points in a general direction and says “that lady over at the bar sent you a drink”. Alex looks at her and stutters out “T-thanks”. The waitress walks away and Alex starts downing her new drink. She quickly loops back into her dissociation, the alcohol leaving her nice and numb to everything around her. Things start to fade out. A woman slides into the booth with her. She can’t make out the details of anything about her. “Poor thing, those meds worked quick on you.” A voice whispered into her ear. Alex feels the warmth of a hand on her thigh. Then a hand grabs her by the wrist “follow me like a good girl” the voice whispers into her ear like velvet.

Her weight is pulled away from the booth and swiftly out of the bar. Her friends none the wiser. She’s tucked into the front seat of a car. She can’t make out any of the details, everything is a blur to her now as she drifts in and out of consciousness. Later she slowly comes to, she feels a tight pressure around her neck. She’s blindfolded, her arms hurt, she’s hanging in the air. “My new toy is finally awake” a voice echos in the room Alex cant quite place where it came from. “What’s going on! Who are you?!” Alex screams out. “Don’t worry about the details sweetie, none of it’s going to matter in a few. You’re going to die tonight.” The voice echos through the room.

“Oh god” Alex whimpers as tears begin to stream down her face. Her breathing becomes rapid from the building panic now setting in. The rushing adrenaline allows her dulled senses a moment fully grasp the situation she’s in. The cool air of the room bites her bare skin as she realizes she’s naked. “That’s a lot of tears for someone so aroused at hearing their going to die” the voice cuts like a knife. Alex realizes she rock hard in the moment. “You drugged me! You probably gave me something!” She screams desperately trying to grasp at any feeling of control.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t, doesn’t matter.” Her voice is sharp and concise. “Here’s how this is going to work. I’m gonna use you how I please. And if you cum, I cut the rope that’s holding you up, and that noose I worked so hard on is going to snap your pretty little neck.” The voice says. Alex try’s to shift her weight to see if she can get loose. The ropes only get tighter and begin to dig deeper into her skin. “Squirming won’t help much either, you’re not getting away.” The voice says drawing closer. That click her heels echoing in the room. A warm touch grabs Alex by the thigh. She kicks and misses.

A knife digs its way into her skin. The hot burn of the blade gliding across her skin like butter, Alex screams in agony. The warm flow of blood begins to drain down her leg. “You will behave or I will cut you to pieces first. Then hang you. Understand?” The voice demands. “Y-yes yes I do. I’m sorry” Alex stutters out. Not long after Alex hears the snap of rubber gloves. “We will start simple” the voice says. A cold lubed hand grabs Alex’s dick and begins to stroke it. Alex cant contain her moans. “Remember if you cum, you die.” She voice says softly as she begins to stroke tighter and faster. The muscles in Alex’s body tense as she writhes in pleasure.

After a while Alex begins to lose her erection, “poor thing, I know how to fix you up. The mystery woman lubes her other hand and begins to massage Alex’s hole. “Oh no” Alex whimpers out. Knowing what comes next. The warm finger slides into her, and gropes around for her prostate. When Alex begins to shiver the woman knows she found the right spot. Hard and heavy the woman pokes and prods Alex’s prostate. She screams out in pleasure. Her legs trembling. The woman begins to stroke her as well. Alex recoils from stimulation barely able to form a coherent thought. For a moment she’s in pure bliss.

Until a pressure starts building, she knows what’s coming. Tears stream down her face. Barely able to speak she stammers out “p-please god no! I can’t hold it.” Hyperventilating she starts to orgasm, her muscles tighten and her body shaking from the pleasure. With one smooth motion the woman cuts the rope holding Alex up. Her body falls quickly and the noose snaps tightly around her neck. Her legs kick helplessly reaching for anything to stand on. Her chest hurts burns from her failed attempts to breathe. The light begins to fade, everything hazy once again. With the last bit of energy left in her body Alex chokes out “I-I’m sorry” then loses consciousness. Her body now floating from the rope with an occasional twitch. The woman cuts her down and frees Alex’s body from the ropes. Dresses her once more than disposes of the body in the dumpster outside the warehouse she used to kill Alex and countless others.

COMMENT: This is JUST a story. Just FYI, IRL this would be horrible and nothing I would support.
Also, you have asked for it :) I'm thinking I'll write a marriage one next...maybe...

Over the last week, I have been able to become more open and accepting of the Lord's blessing.

My legs stayed open more easily, giving the Adjuster access to cleanse my sins from my cunt. The Adjuster still hurt my cunt, but that was what it needed to do. Purging sins as a woman was only possible by the pain the Lord gives us through men.

My mother was very proud of me opening up more and more, crying less and accepting the pain as the blessing it should be.

Today was Restday. After 9 days of work, the 10th was the Lord's day. The day He and men rested. On this day, women had to serve their men and the Lord. That day, the whole community went to church to worship the Lord and receive His blessing. Something I was looking forward to.

As a woman, I was now finally allowed to sit with the adults inside Church. In the unmarried section, but inside. Children didn’t go to church; they went to Teaching.

They learned the Cunt’s Prayer and all the other prayers and rituals; they read the Lord’s words and understood their roles in the community that the Lord had assigned to them.

This morning, my mother told me to fetch the Adjuster for the first time, not only to hang it back up. I was excited to be allowed to do that.

I kissed the Adjuster devoutly, knowing it would soon purge my sins from my cunt, and looking forward to its blessing. Then I handed it proudly to my father.

Father slapped me hard in the face. “Do not blaspheme the Lord. The Morning Penance is not a thing to be proud of. You are a sinful woman; you should not be proud of this. The Lord gives you pain because you deserve it.”

I swallowed hard, hy cheek hurt; he had slapped me hard. I nodded and looked to the floor. “Yes father. This Cunt is sorry. Please purge this sin from me.”

“Lay down,” he commanded, taking the Adjuster from my hand.

He used the Adjuster extra hard on me today. I had deserved it.

I cried as the Adjuster made my cunt hurt like it hadn’t hurt before. After Mother and I had received our Morning Penance, we made breakfast.

Mother pulled me aside in the kitchen. She was upset.

“How could you be such a proud little cunt. The Lord's blessing is not something to be proud of. Not something to enjoy.”

“I’m sorry, Mother. Really, I am. I was just so …” I almost had said proud, “…to be allowed to get the Adjuster…it made me feel married.”

Mother gave me a cold stare, but it modified into a nod. “I understand. But do not do this ever again. Now hike up your skirts.”

I followed her order without fail. “Turn around, bend forward. Hold still. Don’t cry. Endure. This is your punishment.”

I gulped. Mother pulled a dried chilli from the garland against the window. I knew what was coming and my legs shivered with fear, but I turned around and bent forward. Mother inserted the chilli into my butthole, and the burning started.

I bit my lip and endured. I let my skirts fall again and turned around to Mother while my butthole was burning like the Devil's own Hell. Mother studied me for a while, and I held it together. My legs trembled under my skirts and my fists clenched.

“Good. Now make breakfast for your father and don’t let him notice it.” Mother said and I did as asked. My butthole was in agony, my cunt hurt from the bleeding of the Adjuster. But I was a woman; a woman had to endure pain as it was bestowed by the Lord to punish us for the sin of being born a woman.

Before we served breakfast, Mother allowed me to remove the chilli, but the burning didn’t stop. It would be a while, and it would hurt. I held it together. Trying to keep my suffering to myself.

Women should suffer in silence, as the Lord said. “Women are the Sin of this world. Their pain is their purpose. Their suffering is their salvation. Their suffering is theirs only.”

After breakfast, Father took Mother to their room so Father could relieve himself in her. He even bestowed a blessing upon her by allowing her to receive the Light of the Lord. I did not know what the Light was, but something that women could receive if their man allowed it.

Something that made my mother shout out loudly, blessing the Lord, something that made her happy and even smile. Mother didn’t get it often, but Father always bestowed it onto her on a Restday.

By midday we went to Church together. Mother had laid out the new adult dress I would wear to church. It was beautiful. Father wore his Restday clothes, letting his dick and balls show freely and proudly. Men had nothing to hide from the Lord; they were his prime creation.

I tried to stifel how proud I felt. I my new dress I would look like any of the other women. It was a white plain cotton dress, but not a girl's one, an adult one.

The fabric pushed my still small, but growing breasts out and up. Plainly visible for everyone to see what I was, a sinful woman. I looked just like my mother's, except that I didn’t had the marriage ring through my left nipple, making me as unmarried.

The skirt was split, showing off my bald cunt, which was red from the Morning Penance, showing everyone what a sinful cunt I had.

An adult woman should not hide her sin from the Lord in his own house or from the community. The same of being a woman could and should not be hid.

We entered the church. I had seen the inside as part of the Teaching. We had been shown where everyone sat. The unmarried women sat to the left, the married couples in the middle and the unmarried men on the right. I made my way to the other unmarried women, most of whom I knew and were my friends.

We nodded to each other. Smiling would be sinful. We were here to worship the Lord, not to gossip or enjoy ourselves. That would be after church.

One of my friends patted the seat next to her, and I sat down. The seats for unmarried women were different from those for married women.

I looked over to my mother as she knelt down in front of my father's chair. Mother bit her lip as the large metal staff on the floor entered her cunt, connecting her to the Lord. I had never seen it before but knew how this should be done. The staff was long and thick. I could not imagine how that staff fit into her. But it did. Finally, Mother sat down fully; the whole staff had disappeared into her. Mother put her hands behind her back in the position of prayer and leaned forward. My father put his dick into her mouth and smiled as he caressed her cheek affectionately.

The unmarried men sat on the other side of the married couples. Each presented their Lord's proof of their manhood clearly visible. I could only see them coming in with thier stiff dicks proudly pointing the way. The Lord showed off his pride in them and I was fascinated. So many sizes. My friend boxed me, not to stare. I lowered my eyes. I was a filthy cunt, even after the Morning Penance.

But I hoped one of them would want me to make me his wife and bless me with his dick.

I sat down. The unmarried seat was shaped like a roof and finished in metal on the top where my cunt would be resting on. The cold metal of the inverted V touched my cunt, and I shivered. I had to adjust my cunt lips to be even on each side of the metal as I sat down.

My weight pressed my cunt into the metal. It hurt. My friend look told me I would get used to it in time. I lifted my legs into the leg holder behind me and put my hands behind my back in the woman’s prayer position. My full weight was now balanced on my cunt that felt like it would split my cunt apart. Without my legs to hold me up, the metal V wedge pressed painfully and deeply into me. I had to bite my lip and endure in silence as all unmarried women next to me had to.

Some had tears in their eyes, some breathed shallowly. Each of them maintained their balance and, from time to time, shifted around. None of them dared to set a foot down, to relieve their hurting cunts from the pressure of their sinful womenly bodies. "Women should feel the weight of their Sin before marriage claims them." it said in the Lords book.

One of the married couples came forward to the front of the church. Fully naked, then men showing his erect dick as the Proof of the Lord’s might, while the woman crawled next to him. They would lead the service this Restday. I remember the RestDay my parents had been prayer leaders. Mother had been so proud.

As they reached the centre stage, they turned around and bowed to the community. “This is the day of the Lord. His day. We bless him.” Then the man said.

The community repeated the words as required. The married women spoke around their husbands' dick. It was a skill learned early on using wood. Only married women were allowed to make direct contact with their husband’s proof of the Lord's might. I could not wait to be married and feel my Lord's proof throught my husband in me. To have children. To have my husband guide me through the Morning Penance.

The prayer leader started to put his wife into the chains that would stretch her out into the symbol of the Lord. The X.

He fastened the chains on her ankles and wrists and then used the pulleys to stretch her out into the air for all the community to see.

“Witness the Lord’s sign carved in flesh.” He said as his wife grunted in pain with the stretch. I had never seen the Lord’s sign like that, and it made clear why women were needed. Their sin made salvation possible; women suffered so men could come closer to the Lord.

The prayer leader took a red leather whip that lay next to the Lord's book and stood behind his wife.

“Women are Sin.” He said, and the whip hit his wife's back.

I shouted out as well, as did all the women in the congregation. The metal between my cunt lips gave me a jolt. An electric jolt of the Lord’s power directly between my cunt lips. We were made to suffer as much as the woman on stage.

I had been surprised and had shouted, but every other woman had shouted "Amen" as it was required. I had been too surprised. I looked over to my mother, kneeling and with my father's dick in her mouth. Her look told me she wasn’t pleased with my performance. I had to do better, and so I willed myself to do so when the next jolt came. The metal staff deep inside of her must hurt her too. "Women that are married, must know the depth of their sin." it said in the book of the Lord.

“Men are the Lord’s tool to purge women from their sin.” The prayer leader said, and all the men from the congregation answered. “We are ready to fulfil our duty”

“Women are to suffer in silence, except when their suffering amuses the Lord.” The prayer leader said, and the whip hit his wife's breasts and his wife screamed.

As the electric jolt ran through my cunt, I screamed the required ‘Amen’.

Today my suffering was for the Lord’s enjoyment. Tears ran down my face. My cunt hurt so much from being pressed into the metal edge and then when the Lord’s jolt came. I was suffering for him. Doing what I had been born for.

I could see my mother suffering too, but she had my father's dick to give her strength. I had to sit and endure, where as Mother was allowed to move the staff in her. I envied her. The service went on, and the agony of my body increased with time. My own weight hurt me. Each little wiggle hurt me. Each jolt hurt me. It was all my own sinful being that hurt me.

My throat was dry from shouting the blessing, but I was not the only one. All the unmarried women suffered with me, and that gave me strength.

The prayer leader's wife’s whole body was whipped: her breasts, her cunt, her arse, her back, her legs. She had red welts all over her, and new ones were added. The woman on stage suffered. All the women suffered with her. I saw my mother's tears. The staff in her must put the Lord's jolt deep into her.

But that’s what our purpose as women was. Women had to suffer. The Lord had said. “I create Men a Women. A tool for his pleasure and mine. A tool that is to suffer. A tool that is to be used.”

With the last whip hit, the woman on stage let her head hang. She was more or less unconscious. That was the sign for the end of Church. She had suffered long and hard, Her Husband could be proud of her.

He was, it was visible. Proudly, the prayer leader announced. “This woman has suffered for the Lord. She has endured well. She has pleased the Lord.” He used the whip a last time hard between her legs. She didn't even grunted or moved. The service was over.

“She has pleased us,” the men in the congregation replied.

All the married men took their dicks out of their wives’ mouths and fisted them hard. I had never seen anything like it. After a short moment, they grunted and white fluid erupted from their dicks onto their wives' faces.

So this is how that happened. I had seen my mother after church with the white fluid on her face, proudly displaying it.

I had wondered how the Lord's blessing was bestowed onto women through the men.

I glanced over to the unmarried men. Their fluid was collected in one large cup. After the cup was filled. The prayer leader collected it and came to us, unmarried women.

“Receive the Lord's essence.” He said to the first unmarried woman. She bowed her head and then drank from the cup. Then she said. “I have been given my Lord’s essence. Praise the Lord.”

When it was my turn, I drank, and it tasted a bit salty and weird, but it was the Lord’s essence, so I swallowed. I could see my parents' pride. I had received my first-ever Lord’s essence.

The prayer leader removed his wife from the chains, and with that, the service was finished. We all stood up and went outside the church.

I had trouble walking as most other unmarried women had. The metal-lined V had hurt our cunts a lot.

“It will get better. I cried the first time through the whole service. Now I can take it, but it still hurts. You will feel the Lords mercy for some days.” My friend said as we walked outside.

The married women walked with their arms locked through their husbands’, proudly showing off their husbands’ blessing on their faces.

Some women were shamed by the minimal fluid on their faces, while others, almost drenched, walked tall and proud.

Mother had a good amount and was happy. Then men walked with their dicks hanging limp. Showing that they had been satisfied by the suffering of the women.

Everyone started to chat with each other. This was the part of the church that was social, where people met people. Where men discussed trade and women gossiped.

I came over to my parents. My father put his hand on my head. “I bless you, my daughter. You suffered well. You pleased the Lord.” I inclined my head as was proper.

“Thank you, Father. I will do better. I promise.” My

Mother smiled at me and whispered. “It's ok. My first time wasn't easy either. Tonight I give you the cream to make it better. A proper cunt must not only suffer but heal, so it can suffer again.”

“Thank you, mother.” We stayed and talked, and sometimes an unmarried man would come up and talk to Father.

Father asked him questions, and once he allowed a young man to talk to me. It was strange but exciting. The young man asked me questions about my cooking and my skills would bring to a marriage. I answered truthfully, keeping my eyes lowered, which gave me a good look of his dick. It was strong and thick. A drop of the Lord's essence still hang on it.

After some more questions the young man put his hand between my cunt lips, feeling me. I looked panicked at Mother, but she just smiled and nodded. The young man withdrew his fingers and sniffed at them, then nodded and went back to my father. They kept on talking.

Mother came to me. “He seems to like you. Let's see. Maybe he will ask for your cunt in marriage, next harvest.” The she whispered. "He has a strong dick, it will be a blessing to you."

A smile formed on my lips. Married.

This is the fifteenth part of a story I wrote quite some time ago and have decided to revise (actually this part is all new). This part has been produced with the kind and knowledgeable assistance and co-authoring of u/PenelopeLevinAuthor.

For reasons that I can't quite recall we stopped posting updates, but someone prompted me to continue, so here is another part. Sorry for the huge delay between chapters!! Apologies if you have to go back and reread to remind yourself of where we were.

In between times I have actually rewritten much of what has been posted. I won't post it here but if anyone is interested let me know.

I can highly recommend u/PenelopeLevinAuthor stories on Amazon. If you have the time and inclination, then head across to Amazon for a very enjoyable read.

--------

 

 

He looked into her eyes, “Keep looking at me.”  While keeping eye contact he reached down and slowly removed each peg, enjoying the flair in her eyes and the intake of breath as each one came off.  Once done he leaned down and kissed her again.

 

He stopped kissing her, but still held his lips to hers, one hand gently stroking across her clitoris.  “So my beautiful slut, It's time to tell me whatever it is that you have been trying to tell me. Why are your nipples sore? What is it that you want to say?  Take your time, you’re not going anywhere, and neither am I.”  He kissed her again, slowly, enjoying it.  Then lifted his head to let her speak.

 

Julie had practiced this in her head so many times, it had seemed so terrifying, but suddenly it wasn’t. She wanted to tell him, wanted him to know every detail, and was no longer afraid that he might take it badly. Being bound made it even easier somehow.  But where to start with this new found confidence. 

 

She closed her eyes and lifted her head to be kissed, then slowly began to tell her story, stopping to kiss him when he wanted it, opening herself to him, letting herself remember and describe every moment. Letting the feeling of his hands on her open her mind.

 

She spoke softly, but not nervously.  “A few months ago I was browsing the internet, a bit bored maybe, and I came across a site that had pictures of women in bondage.”  She paused to look into his eyes, “Just like the bondage you have me now. I can’t remember how I got there, but I was suddenly struck with how incredibly erotic it was. I sat there for hours, just looking. I couldn't get enough. It brought back distant memories of fantasies that I once had. Things that I had pushed down because I thought they weren’t right for a wife and mother.  But I loved them.  I was a bit overwhelmed by the photos and my reaction to them, so I shut it down. Eventually though, days later, I had to go back, I just wanted so much to see more, to imagine myself in the photos.”

 

Richard listened to her, excited to be given a view into her fantasies that he had never imagined existed. Every now and then as she spoke he put in small questions, things he was just too curious about to let pass. “What sort of pictures?  What were the ones you liked?”

 

“Oh! I loved them all, Master.  There were pictures of women bound just like you have me now. There were pictures of people being whipped. Made to serve Mistresses and Masters. Bound out in the woods. Being used by groups. Being presented in front of crowds. Women naked at parties where everyone else was clothed. They had bound breasts, clamps and pegs. Toys and objects pushed into them. Things done to them. I loved each and every one. I wanted it to be me. I wanted it to be me that was presented, me that was used, me that was naked in front of the crowd.”

 

Richard listened to the excitement in her voice, the longing that was revealed, amazed that after so many years this had finally emerged.  As she spoke ,he could feel her confidence in her words building. The images had clearly aroused her, but it seemed that revealing herself to him was adding to it. He let his fingers focus, swirling around and across her clitoris, sliding into her. He could feel her muscles tighten, feel her lift.

 

“Do you like to imagine being presented before a crowd, being whipped in front of them?”

 

“Oh god yes!  Master.  Please.  I want to do more than imagine it.  I want you to do it to me. Present me naked and bound to a crowd, whip me in front of them. Have them use me however you wish.  Please, Master!” 

 

Richard continued to swirl his fingers around her wet clitoris, trying to take in her words and all the reactions of her body

 

She began to pant slightly as her pleasure rose, “I want it so much!  To be the centre of all that attention, to be used by crowds, to be controlled and commanded. To have so much inflicted on my body.  To …”.

 

Julie’s orgasm crashed through her as she cried out in pleasure.

 

Richard looked on in awe at the incredible sight of his wife’s body bucking wildly against the ropes.  Her pelvis thrusting toward his hand, practically demanding more from his fingers. His own body throbbed with desire in response.  He just wanted to take her, to feel himself inside her, but in the end watching her body move was better than anything else.

 

After a while Julie came back down from her high, looked up and smiled at him, and continued her story.  Richard returned to stroking her as she spoke, and a cycle started again that they both knew would inevitably result in her reaching her orgasm again.

 

“I went to look at them one day.  I was just so aroused.  I had got my vibrator out, and I was using it as I imagined myself in the pictures, as the star of each one.  I was so lost in my thoughts I couldn't pay attention to anything else.  The fantasy of being in those pictures was just so strong, nothing else mattered.  Then just as I reached orgasm, Jane, Beth … and Anna came into the room.  They saw me, saw everything.  I was so embarrassed, so humiliated, and so … and so aroused.”

 

Richard listened in wonder and awe, sometimes concerned, sometimes horrified, but always aroused, to all her story. Again and again she came telling him about what had happened. His hands lifting her and helping her.  He asked questions and she responded.

 

As Julie recounted the events of the last weeks, it felt like a weight was lifting from her. Richard now knew everything. Her body was overwhelmed by pleasure again and again as his hands and her memories combined to lift her to orgasm. Each time afterwards, he would lean in to assure her he wanted to hear more and to kiss her, whisper for her to continue, then let his hands drift down to start the cycle anew.

 

Richard was astounded that all this had happened without his knowledge when he had been right there; he had known something unusual was happening, but he never would have guessed in his wildest dreams. He was both ecstatic to hear of what had happened to her, what she had done; but also sad that he had not been there to see it, to take part, to enjoy it.

 

Julie looked up her arm at the rope wrapped around her wrists and remembered being tied up in the front hallway, ropes pulling her legs apart, holding her exposed in front of the door.  Remembered the girls laughing as they pushed golf balls into her, competing to see how many they could fit as she was stretched wide. She took a deep breath and started telling Richard about it. He listened in amazement.

 

When she finished telling him every last detail, Richard injected, “I remember thinking that you had cleaned my golf balls! I even thanked you for doing it! At the driving range I wondered what you had used as I was getting a tiny bit more distance with each shot.” He shook his head, gently laughing as he again realised what he had missed whilst it happened right under his nose.

 

He got up and went into the dressing room and retrieved a few of the spare balls from his golf bag, bouncing them in his hand as he came back. Julie blushed looking at them. “So these balls have already been inside you?”

 

Julie nodded her head and whispered, “Yes Master, they pushed a lot of them into me, I felt so full, and they just kept trying to get more in.” She couldn’t help the muscles of her pussy clenching with the memory.

 

Richard watched her reaction, happy at how clear her desires were written in her body movements. He lay back down on the bed. Taking one of the balls he rolled it across her pussy, sliding it up and down, coating it in her juices, and rolling it around her clitoris.  Julie closed her eyes and to the extent that the ropes allowed opened herself up, pushing her pelvis out to present him with her excited and wet hole.  He kissed her as he pushed the ball deep into her; he could feel her body, feel her excitement in every muscle, feel it in her kiss. 

 

Julie whispered to him, “More please, Master.  Fill me.  Make me take them all.”

 

He took his time and slowly pushed another into her, delighted by her beautiful reactions.  And then another.

 

When the third ball was lost inside her he lifted his head and spoke gently into her ear as he ran his hand over her pussy, stroking her clitoris, and every now and then giving her pussy a gentle spank. “So many in here. It turns out my gorgeous slut has lots of lovely uses. Maybe from now on I will fill you up before every game I play.” 

 

Julie moaned in agreement, her eyes closed, whispering to him, “Yes Master, my body is yours to use how you like.”  She lifted her head to kiss him harder.  He could feel the tension in her body lifting.

 

“And with my golf balls covered in your juices I will play that little bit better. Each time I pick up a ball I will think of where they have been.” He swirled his fingers over her clitoris as she moaned in desire.

 

“My golf buddies will know something has changed. Maybe I’ll tell them I have a secret way of coating my golf balls that gives better flight distance. Maybe I’ll offer to have their golf balls coated for them.” 

 

Julie’s body shuddered in lust at the thought of being used, of all his friends using golf balls soaked in her juices. “Yes Master.”

 

Richard continued whispering in her ear. “Or maybe I’ll just bring them around, and tie you up and let them coat their golf balls in your pussy juice for themselves. All those men pushing them into you, lining up to get their turn.  Or take you with us to the course full so you can give us the balls when we need them.” 

 

Julie’s moans turned to loud groans of pleasure, her body shaking at the thought of being used by so many, of how it would feel to have her body so casually used, to become an object to be filled. She whispered harshly to him, “Yes Master!  Please!  Tie me up open for them to see when they use me.  Let them use me however you wish!  Invite them all, please Master.  They can all push whatever you want into me.  If I don’t serve you well enough you should punish me. Punish me in front of them.  Oh, Master!”  Her stomach muscles tighten as her orgasm ripped through her, the strength of it forcing the golf balls back out of her.

 

Richard watched her body come down from her orgasm, amazed at what the force of her desires could do to her. He picked up the balls and tossed them off the bed. Ran his hands over her body. When she opened her eyes and looked at him again, slightly dazed from her orgasm.  He whispered to her, “One day I will punish you in front of a crowd.”  She shuddered in desire, then he gently prompted her to keep on telling her story.

 

She could hear him sitting just in front of where she knelt on the floor. Though she couldn't see him through the thick padding covering her eyes. It's quiet except for the din of the TV, the occasional clink of his fork on the plate as he ate his supper, and the soft creaking of the leather bindings holding her in position.

She was kneeling. Soft, heavy sleeves, custom made for her, were slid over her knees and held her calves to her hamstrings. A cord running from the cuff by her ankle up through her toes served as both a mild irritant to her feet as well as to keep her from wiggling out of the contraption. Her knees are spread wide, exposing the crotch of her underwear. They're soaked through.

Thick straps bound her at wrist and elbow. Forcing her back straight and her chest out. He had opened her shirt and pulled down her unlined bra, leaving her chest exposed. At first, he had planned to leave them like that. Enjoying the sight their natural shape as they hung, the gentle sway as she shifts. Instead, though, after he had satisfied himself for the first time that night, he opted to bind each one lightly with thin, soft, silken rope. She almost wished he had done them tighter.

This was the more manageable option if she were going to be like this for a while. But this drew her attention to her current state of undress as it felt as if, at any moment, the ropes would slip off. She wanted the bite of the rougher ropes he often used to chinch them tight, the look of approval at her degradation on his face as they swelled and discolored, and how her revulsion of her own body turning so ugly turned her on so much.

Furthering her coveted humiliation, a mix of drool and cum drips over her exposed tits. She is unable to swallow due to the large o ring gag that forces her mouth open almost painfully wide. Her tongue is held out, trapped between to metal screwers rubber banded at the ends. Again, he had done them just tight enough to secure her but not so tight to give her the sensation she was craving. More of the bodily fluids were spread and slowly drying across her face.

With anyone else she would have hated this, though she never would have let herself end up here. But now she craved it. And only ever for him.

A draft rushes over her skin and cools the dampness between her legs as she hears the front door open and close. Someone else just walked in. Panic shoots through her as she instinctually tries to run, hide, do anything to keep the unseen intruder from finding her like this. The man in front of her gives a small laugh at her dilemma. She feels her cheeks burn with blush as she quickly resigns herself to the humiliation of the situation.

"Hey, Ben! It's only me."

It was Amy. His neighbor. She groans inwardly, but her panic recedes, leaving her with just the embarrassment of being so exposed to the enigmatic woman. Amy wouldn't judge or complain. But now the woman knew more about her relationship than she should, and she was one to rib and quip when they were together for a social call.

"I locked myself out of my apartment again. Just need my spare key. Oh! Hey, Dela! Didn't realize you were here! Didn't mean to interrupt anything!"

Amy announces with unfeigned casualness. She seems to have no qualms about the situation she just walked into. Dela feels a hand on the leather of the tight hood pulled over her head, moving as if to ruffle hair that was currently trapped.

In the darkness she roles her eyes at the other woman's audacious attitude. Amy's heels clack across the hard wood of the floor as she moves into the kitchen for the junk drawer where her, and another neighbors, spare keys were. As if this were a common scene. Amy often crashed into their peace, looking for a key or a battery. But never this late at night, and never when Dela was in such a state. At least it hadn't been uptight, old Mr. Bessler.

"No worries, Amy. Maybe next time knock?"

She knew he added that last bit for her. He was an exhibitionist in all aspects of his life. So this intrusion would only irritate him in such that he wanted a quiet evening. But he would love the added layer to Dela's mortification, so he was ever a gracious host and friend.

Dela's irritation grows as the woman chatters and rumages. She isn't shocked by the nonchlance from Amy and the lack of social awareness.

Dela is genuinely surprised, though, by the gentle, warm caress on her breast. She hadn't been paying attention. At some point, the conversation had fallen silent, and the woman now knelt and laid hands on her exposed body. Firm, but careful movements spread the liquid falling from her mouth across the pale skin to the sensitive nipple. The minimal touch is enough to tighten the pink bud and elicit a soft sigh. Amy chuckles, only inches from her face.

"She's lovely, Ben." Her voice wistful and longing.

A slim finger slips under loose bindings circling the tender flesh. Lifting and giving a gentle bounce. Amy's other hand has wandered up Dela's leather clad thigh and found the wet patch on her panties. She moves them aside, violating Dela's last vestige of modesty and, somewhat unwillingly, reawakening the burning want there between her legs. Tentatively, Amy dips her fingers between the folds, finding the electric cluster of nerves that she doftly rolls between her finger. Mildly soothing Dela's touch starved sex. To soon though she's released Dela's clit. Amy wipes Delas secretions on her own caught tongue before shifting the thin cotton. Amy snugs them up, forcing the soft, wet fabric against the sensitive flesh of her neglected cunt. Dela groans as arousal and shame flood her body.

"Yes, she is."

His tone is only subtly clipped but not hiding how he truly feels about the older woman playing with his toy, displeasure and intrigue. Amy takes the hint. She resituates the rope. Annoyingly, making it slightly tighter than the other. She leaves the underwear.

"Now, now. No need to get territorial. I was just admiring your handiwork, Ben." She says with a humored tsk-tsking. Again her usual chipper self. "I will leave you two to it! Thanks for keeping the key for me. Are we still on for dinner Thursday?"

Crap. Given the context of her current existance she had forgotten their plans for supper with Amy. She's going to have to look this woman in the eye in two days. Carry on a conversation with her. Dela tries to disappear.

"Wouldn't miss it!" Ben says, humor plain in his voice.

The door clicks shut behind the unexpected guest. Not even a goodbye. The apartment is quiet again. Ben takes his plate to the kitchen, letting his leg brush just the tips of her nipples as he passes before returning to his seat and resuming his show. Again, Dela is trapped alone with her humiliation and her desire, a level of arousal she has never felt before. She didn't even know if he would use her again tonight. Or if he would just free her and take her to bed to sleep. Or perhaps he would just leave her there. Knowing how he would feel about her reaction to the unexpected guest and hearing his own appreciation to the exchange, would he arrange for it to happen more often?

Dela didn't know, and she loved it.

partie 1

### **13h00 - L'Humiliation Publique**

Le soleil venait de percer l'épaisse couche de nuages gris, réchauffant légèrement l'atmosphère. Il était l'heure pour la Reine Anna de déjeuner. Prenant l'initiative de bien faire pour regagner des points après ses déboires matinaux, Manon dressa le plateau repas de sa maîtresse et le porta sur la terrasse de pierre.

Elle déposa le plateau sur la grande table de jardin et se mit immédiatement à quatre pattes, à l'endroit exact devant où Anna viendrait s'asseoir.

Anna fit son apparition, vêtue d'un élégant ensemble de soie claire. Elle toisa l'installation, un petit sourire en coin, et pointa le sol, exactement sous sa chaise.

« Allonge-toi sur le dos. Le visage sous de devant de la chaise. »

Manon, l'esprit engourdi par la faim et la peur, se glissa sous le mobilier de jardin. Elle s'allongea sur le carrelage tiédi par le soleil, le lourd plug de métal martyrisant toujours ses entrailles. Anna s'installa avec grâce, tira sa chaise en avant, et posa négligemment ses deux pieds nus directement sur le visage de son esclave, utilisant son nez et ses joues comme un vulgaire paillasson de chair. Pendant trente longues minutes, Manon dut respirer l'odeur des pieds de son amie, sans oser bouger un cil de peur de s'attirer une nouvelle colère, pendant qu'Anna dégustait son repas en écoutant les oiseaux chanter.

### **13h30 - La Plonge et la Faiblesse**

À l'heure tapante, la pression des pieds disparut. Anna s'étira.

« Débarrasse. Vaisselle à la main. Et n'oublie pas la suite du programme. »

Manon se releva, le corps endolori, ramassa la vaisselle et fila vers l'évier. Les gestes étaient mécaniques. Son esprit était ailleurs, redoutant l'échéance suivante.

### **13h45 - La Mésaventure dans l'Herbe**

C'était l'heure de la pause biologique de l'après-midi. Une fois encore, Manon dut ramper jusqu'à l'étendue d'herbe située juste devant la grande baie vitrée. Étonnamment, la route départementale était très fréquentée à cette heure-là. Le ballet incessant des voitures la terrifiait. Pressée d'en finir pour échapper aux regards potentiels des conducteurs, elle s'accroupit dans l'herbe humide et se relâcha brusquement.

Dans sa précipitation, son sphincter, distendu et endolori, laissa échapper le lourd plug d'acier. L'objet chuta mollement dans l'herbe, immédiatement recouvert par les excréments mou et collant que Manon ne put retenir.

Depuis l'intérieur de la maison, derrière la grande vitre, Anna avait suivi la scène. Son visage se ferma. Elle ouvrit la baie vitrée dans un crissement sec.

« Manon ! Qu'est-ce que je viens de voir ? »

Manon se figea, le sang glacé. Elle se retourna et baissa les yeux vers le désastre.

« Tu as perdu ton jouet dans ta propre merde, » constata Anna, la voix vibrante de dégoût et de colère. « Ramasse-le avec tes dents. Va le nettoyer au jet de l'étable. Et remets-le en place. Immédiatement la chienne. »

Les larmes, compagnes désormais fidèles de sa déchéance, montèrent aux yeux de Manon. C'était trop. L'humiliation atteignait des sommets insoutenables. Mais le regard impitoyable d'Anna, braqué sur elle, ne laissait aucune place à la rébellion. Puisant dans ses ultimes réserves d'obéissance, Manon se pencha sur le tas fumant. Avec une répulsion qui lui donna la nausée, elle dégagea le métal du bout de la langue, attrapa la base de l'objet d'acier entre ses dents puis rampa le plus vite possible vers l'étable la bouche et la salive désormais maculée d'excréments.

Arrivée devant le jet d'eau, elle cracha l'objet avec un haut-le-cœur, se rinça la bouche à grande eau, nettoya le plug frénétiquement. N'ayant pas de lubrifiant, elle utilisa sa propre salive, la mort dans l'âme, et força l'intrus à reprendre sa place dans ses chairs meurtries.

### **13h50 - L'Attente du Bourreau**

Encore secouée par des frissons de dégoût, Manon regagna le salon. Elle se positionna à genoux, la tête basse, attendant le verdict de sa maîtresse pour son manque d'attention. Mais Anna resta silencieuse, lisant un magazine de mode.

### **14h00 - La Vengeance des Mâles**

Le planning exigeait l'entretien de la piscine, la relève du courrier, le nettoyage du donjon, et enfin, l'évacuation du fumier de l'étable.

Manon expédia les trois premières tâches avec l'énergie du désespoir. Elle passa l'épuisette dans la piscine, changea les draps de la chambre du sous-sol, frotta les meubles de sa propre prison. Il ne lui restait qu'une heure pour l'épreuve la plus dégradante : nettoyer la merde d'Alex et Ben.

Cherchant mentalement une stratégie pour accomplir la besogne le plus vite et proprement possible, elle rampa vers l'étable. Mais à sa grande surprise, Anna l'y attendait, debout devant la lourde porte, une paire de menottes en acier scintillant à la main.

Avant même que Manon ne puisse esquisser un geste de recul, Anna lui saisit les poignets et les scella brutalement dans son dos. L'incompréhension se peignit sur le visage de la captive. Comment allait-elle nettoyer sans ses mains ?

D'un geste sec, Anna déverrouilla la ceinture de chasteté et laisse le plug des fesses de Manon, qui étouffa un gémissement de soulagement. La porte s'ouvrit.

Honteuse, les yeux rivés au sol, Manon pénétra dans l'antre fétide en rampant sur les genoux. Soudain, un violent coup de pied d'Anna entre ses omoplates la projeta en avant. Manon s'écrasa face contre la boue immonde.

« Voilà ta punition pour tes retards et tes maladresses, la chienne ! » hurla Anna. « Messieurs, elle est à vous pour une heure. »

La lourde porte claqua. Le verrou tourna.

Manon, paniquée, releva la tête. Devant elle, Ben et Alex étaient debout. Mais l'effroi la paralysa lorsqu'elle constata que leurs cages de chasteté avaient disparu. Leurs membres, en érection et maculés de terre, pointaient vers elle.

Sans l'usage de ses mains, Manon ne pouvait qu'offrir son regard terrifié, cherchant une once de pitié dans les yeux de son ancien compagnon pour qu'il ne retire pas son plug. Mais elle n'y trouva qu'une faim carnassière et un désir ardent de vengeance. Anna avait donné l'ordre : c'était leur unique occasion de faire payer à Manon les quinze derniers jours de maltraitance.

Ben, brutal, se jeta sur elle et plaqua son visage dans la fiente pour l'empêcher de bouger. Alex se positionna derrière elle. La perspective de réaliser le fantasme anal que Manon lui avait toujours refusé le rendait fou en voyant le plug ancré en elle.

Il cracha dans sa main pour lubrifier son sexe et le pressa contre la vulve offerte. Manon se débattit sauvagement, secouant les hanches, gémissant de plaisir impatient au dégoût de la boue. Mais d'un coup de rein impitoyable, Alex força l'entrée et l'empala de toute sa longueur.

Manon gémis à s'en déchirer les cordes vocales, s'attendant à la foudre du collier électrique qui ne se fut pas attendre. Anna n'avait désactivé que celui des hommes, l'abandonnant totalement à la brutalité des esclaves.

Alex s'acharna sur elle, martelant ses chairs avec une rage vengeresse, pendant que Ben, agenouillé au-dessus de sa tête, lui écrasait le visage dans la boue pour étouffer ses cris. Quelques minutes de pure violence suffirent à Alex pour exploser en elle, vidant des semaines de frustration. Manon n'arrivant pas à jouir car son collier se declanchant à chaque râle d'Alex.

Il se retira. Manon haletait, croyant le cauchemar terminé. Mais Ben prit immédiatement le relais. Plus massif, plus expérimenté, il récolta la semence de son compagnon d'infortune sur le trou béant de Manon et s'en servit pour lubrifier son propre engin.

Il força l'entrée avec une violence inouïe. La gêne fut si fulgurante que Manon crut se déchirer. Ses gémissements de plaisir et d'humiliation résonnèrent dans l'étable. Ben fut implacable. Il la brisa méthodiquement, durant de longues minutes, la réduisant à l'état de poupée de chiffon pantelante a cause des chocs électriques, avant de libérer sa propre décharge brûlante dans ses entrailles.

La porte s'ouvrit alors à la volée. Anna fit irruption, impérieuse. Elle ordonna aux hommes de reculer, leur replaça froidement leurs cages de chasteté ainsi que les menottes maintenant leur mains dans leurs dos, puis leur ordonna de traîner le corps inerte de Manon dehors.

Sous le jet d'eau glacé, les deux hommes durent nettoyer la chienne brisée avec leurs langue. Anna replaça la ceinture de chasteté équipée d'un plug vaginal sur le corps de Manon pour y retenir le mélange de leurs semences.

« J'espère que tu retiendras la leçon, » cracha Anna en surplombant la jeune femme qui hoquetait de frustration, incapable de se relever.

Elle renvoya les hommes dans la pénombre, leur promettant une surprise pour le dimanche suivant, et verrouilla la porte.

« Allez, au pied ! » lança-t-elle à Manon en retournant vers la maison.

Mais Manon, le corps ravagé et frustré, l'esprit brisé, resta prostrée dans l'herbe, secouant la tête, refusant d'avancer. La rébellion du désespoir d'un plaisir interdit.

Anna revint sur ses pas.

« C'est pour ton bien, ma chienne. Soit tu me suis pour préparer ton prochain ordre, soit je te jette dans l'étable avec eux pour toute la nuit. »

Les yeux écarquillés par la terreur pure, Manon eut un hoquet. Non. Pas la nuit. Résignée, l'âme morte, elle se traîna derrière sa maîtresse.

### **17h00 - La Corvée Extérieure**

Dans la maison, Anna lui accorda dix minutes de répit pour retrouver ses esprits. Lorsqu'elle reparut, elle portait une robe très courte en dentelle et pieds nu.

« Va te préparer. Le menu est sur la table. N'oublie pas que ton téléphone est géolocalisé. L'heure tourne. »

Manon tituba jusqu'au donjon. Devant le petit lavabo, elle tenta de nettoyer l'odeur persistante de la boue et du sperme qui lui collait à la peau. Elle s'habilla mécaniquement d'une robe courte en coton noire, juste assez longue pour dissimuler sa chasteté. En découvrant la liste des courses, son cœur se serra davantage : Anna exigeait du tournedos et des gambas fraîches pour elle, et plusieurs boîtes de pâtée pour chien en conserve. Les repas de Manon pour le lendemain.

### **19h00 - L'Éclaircie de Lavande**

À son retour, les courses rangées en un temps record, de nouveau nue, Manon vit Anna s'approcher avec un trésor inestimable : un savon solide à la lavande, une serviette propre et un rasoir. Anna déverrouilla la ceinture de chasteté, en retire le plug vaginal et verrouille de nouveau la ceinture. Le sperme s'écoulant du vagin meurtri, Manon pressa sa main pour en récolter le foutre.

« Ne traîne pas. Le soleil se couche. »

Pour Manon, c'était une oasis dans le désert de son enfer. Elle arriva sur la pelouse, face à Anna qui la surveillait depuis la terrasse, et utilisa le tuyau d'arrosage. Elle s'appliqua avec frénésie, récurant chaque parcelle de sa peau, rasant méticuleusement chaque poil, se raccrochant désespérément à l'odeur apaisante de la lavande pour retrouver un semblant d'humanité.

### **19h30 - 21h00 : Le Service et la Confession**

La soirée reprit son cours mécanique. Préparation du dîner, service à quatre pattes, rôle de repose-pied silencieux, vaisselle, et enfin, la rituelle humiliation de la pause biologique face à la baie vitrée nocturne.

À 21h00, Manon regagna le salon, épuisée à en mourir, s'agenouillant pour la phase de vénération.

Anna observait la femme brisée à ses pieds. Consciente de la violence physique et psychologique de la frustration qu'elle venait de lui infliger, l'ancienne meilleure amie laissa poindre une once de pitié. Le dressage nécessitait aussi de la carotte.

« Viens, » murmura Anna en tapotant la place vide sur le canapé, soulevant son plaid moelleux.

Incrédule, Manon hésita, puis rampa et se glissa timidement contre la chaleur d'Anna. Devant une série policière, Anna passa un bras protecteur autour des épaules de son esclave.

« Je n'avais pas le choix, Manon. Il fallait que tu comprennes. Ta première punition devait être un électrochoc, » lui expliqua-t-elle d'une voix douce. « Je n'ai aucune envie de recommencer ce genre d'extrémité. Tout dépend de toi maintenant. »

Blottie contre elle, Manon pleura silencieusement, se raccrochant à cette chaleur humaine comme un naufragé à une bouée.

« Quand ton dressage sera terminé, » poursuivit Anna en lui caressant les cheveux, « quand tu seras devenue parfaitement docile, dévouée... et quand tu auras accepté l'idée de t'offrir entièrement à mes envies... alors tu pourras entrevoir une vie meilleure. Tu pourras dormir dans ma chambre, et peut-être même regagner quelques libertés de plaisirs. »

Une lueur d'espoir, infime mais tenace, s'alluma dans l'esprit dévasté de Manon.

### **22h30 - Le Repos de l'Esclave**

L'heure de la fin de service approchait. Manon escorta Anna jusqu'à la chambre principale. Anna s'allongea sur le lit, repoussa les draps et offrit ses pieds nus.

Revigorée par l'espoir d'une rédemption future, Manon s'agenouilla au pied du lit. Avec une tendresse nouvelle, presque de la reconnaissance, elle s'appliqua à lécher, masser et choyer les pieds de sa Reine.

À 23h17, les respirations d'Anna se firent régulières. Elle dormait.

Dans un silence religieux, Manon quitta la chambre. Elle descendit les marches vers le sous-sol rouge, rampa dans sa minuscule cage d'acier, et verrouilla elle-même le cadenas électronique. La journée en enfer était terminée. Épuisée, mais portée par l'illusion d'une vie meilleure, elle ferma les yeux.

With a sudden, smooth motion I gather your wrists together and pin them above your head. You squirm a little, offering token resistance but knowing that you’re helpless. You can only measure the time in heart beats as my eyes roll down your body, taking in the curves beneath the floral pattern of your sundress. The fingers of my free hand brush slowly over the back of your thigh; sending a shiver up your spine as they move towards the curve of your buttocks, and then slide along the skin of your ass, making a needy heat burst from your pussy and a lilting gasp fall from your lips. My own lips form a cruel smile as I tell you, “You’ve been teasing all day, pretty bunny.”

“I’m… I…” You stammer. Its hard to speak or even think. Your mind races with fear, but it's fogged by sudden desire. “I didn’t mean to, sir.” You finally manage to shape your jumble thoughts into a response as my fingers run back down the skin of your leg. “I… I promise. I didn’t… I—”

Your words are cut off by a whimper. My fingers cradle the flesh of your ass and then squeeze. “So, you wore this pretty little dress for no one to see?” I ask, looking into your eyes as my hand keeps moving upward. The fabric of your dress gathers around my wrist, then slips back down as my touch reaches the small of your back. It lingers there for a moment; feeling the softness and suppleness of your skin, the tension in the muscles along your spine.

There’s a tattoo of desperation from between your thighs as you answer, “I just wanted to be pretty.” My hand keeps flowing, moving up between your shoulder blades to reach the bottom of your neck, where they find the knot that holds your dress on. Your heart pounds, and you lick your lips without thinking. Your legs feel both tense and rubbery as you wait form me to undo the knot; to leave you standing all but naked, almost completely exposed before me, with nearly every detail of your vulnerable body under my sadistic gaze. But I don’t do what you expect.

Instead of letting your dress billow to the floor, I keep control of the loose straps and peel the fabric slowly away from your skin. Because you’re very pretty, looking up at me with heaving tits and glittering eyes, and it takes almost no effort to hold you here, I give myself time to take in the detail of your body. You cannot help the little gasps of pleasure and fear that you make as I reveal your breasts, and then your belly, and then your hips one agonizing inch at a time. “And why did you want to be pretty, little bunny, just for yourself? Just so the world could see how gloriously adorable you are?” The interrogation continues with your dress just a few inches from falling to the floor, but my grip holding it just above your hips as you answer “I… um… I don’t know, sir. I just… it felt good, sir.”

I let go of the fabric, finally allowing your dress to drop gracefully to the floor around your ankles. Your pussy thrums with a soft and urgent heat, and the strength disappears from your legs. Its unclear if I am pinning you to the wall or holding you up as my eyes sweep along your curves in their not quite full glory.

There’s a last layer of protection left to you: the lacy fabric of your panties still hides your cunt from my predatory eyes as they move up and down your body. My fingers move slowly down your belly to graze over the stitches of thin fabric still hiding the most sensitive part of you when I ask “What felt good about your dress, bunny? What did you hope would happen when you put it on?”

“I don’t…” You struggle to think as your breaths catch in your throat. “I… I… I don’t know, sir.” You manage to stammer through the fear and bone deep need. I laugh, a little, and quirk my lip. You feel my fingers sliding under the hem of your panties. Like your dress, I slide them away slowly, with small intentional motions. Like your dress, I don’t quite take them off; they come to rest a little ways above your knees, giving your legs room to spread, and to let me make slow, gentle circles over your clitoris with my free hand.

“I think you knew.” I glare as waves of pleasure rush out from between your legs. “I think you still know. I think my naughty, teasing bunny wanted to be fucked. I think she’s lying so she won’t be punished.”

You don’t answer. It’s hard to pull words from the tide of bliss crashing through your body. You just let your jaw hang open, your fingers and toes twitch. Your body is beyond your control.

“There’s no way to avoid it now.” I whisper the warning into your ear. “But if you tell me the truth, maybe my little bunny can have pleasure as well as pain.”

I quickly make good on my warning. The little circles over your clit stop, and my hand pulls away. You give a petulant whine of frustration that quickly turns to a yelp of agony. You don’t know where they came from, but clamps bite into your nipples. I pull the chain on them tighter and the sharp pain pierces deeper into your body. You thrash and squirm, trying to break free of my grip or reduce the pain. It doesn’t work, your still pinned (or supported) by my hands, and the keen-edged sting is still cutting along your nerves. With your body helpless and the pain growing, your will quickly collapses. “I…” You manage to mewl through your agony. “I’m…really sorry, sir. I… please…”

“Why did you tease, naughty bunny? What did you hope would happen to you?”

The pain stops growing, but I don’t relieve your anguish, just keep a steady tension on the chain between your nipples.

“I… I… I…” You wince, caught between suffering and desire as you struggle to find the words for an answer. The truth is that when you put on this outfit, when you decided to be a mischievous, teasing little bunny, you didn’t know what you wanted. You were teasing for the joy of desire, for the thrill of being wanted without a thought to where it would lead. “I wanted…” You try to speak your desires but can’t manage more than a few words before you moan in pain. “I wanted you… I wanted… I wanted you to fuck me, sir. To… to tie me up. To put… put… put me on… on a leash, sir. I—”

Without warning, the pain of the clamps fades. Warm, soft pleasure, once again spreads out from your pussy. “Mmmm.” I growl “If that’s what you wanted, all you needed to do was beg.”

That is all the prompting you need. Even with your mind riven by pain and fogged with bliss, the words now come instinctively “Please, sir. Please tie your little bunny up. Please.. please put me on a leash. Please, sir. Please. I need it. You’re good… you’re good little bunny, sir, she… I… need to feel your cock, sir. I just… I want… I need to know you own me, sir.”

You expect it to be sudden, almost violent, so you’re caught off guard when I turn you to face the wall with a soft touch on the skin of your hips. I cuff your hands behind your back, then, with another gentle tap, turn you to face me once again. My eyes roll once over your body before looking sternly into yours while the chain of the leash settles around your neck. It closes with a soft click. With a long, steady tug I pull you close enough to feel the warmth coming from your desperate pussy on my leg as I push your panties all the way off.

A shorter, more commanding jolt on the leash forces you to follow me with stumbling steps. Your nipples still smart and your cunt pulses with need as I lead you on a winding path around the room. Occasionally I turn to watch you, my good little bunny, naked and helpless, following obediently.

At the foot of the bed I pull you to a stop, and run a tender hand over your cheek while my eyes travel up and down, all over your naked body. Slowly, gently, irresistibly, I guide you down to the smooth, cool fabric of the sheets. There’s a loud smack, and a painful burning on your ass. Towering above you, squeezing the flesh of your buttocks with an imperious hand, I tell you that “I’m going to spank you, pretty bunny, and you’re going to apologise while I do.”

Your voice is little more than a sigh of submission when you say “Yes… yes, sir.”

“You’re also going to beg to be fucked.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

You get no more warning. The leather of a strap falls again and again, a hailstorm against your ass; to fast to keep track of the blows, its cruel sting spreading over your sensitive skin. A few strikes, aimed more precisely, send the pain shooting deeper into your flesh. You mewl “I’m sorry I teased, sir. I’m…” A whimper “I shouldn’t have. I just… I wanted… I liked the way you looked at me.” A few quick, hard blows make the sting of your punishment too much to think through. “I liked seeing… I um… I… I… um… I’m sorry, sir. I won’t… I know… I know I should… should be a good bunny.” Each strike of the spanking makes your punishment harder to cope with. All your thoughts seem to crumble before you can shape them into words. Eventually you manage to find the only ones left to you “Please, sir, please fuck me. Fuck your desperate little bunny, sir. Please.” A moan of anguish. “Please, sir. You… you own my whole body. My ass, sir. My pussy… is… it belongs to you, sir. I… you… you own me, sir. You own this needy bunny. You can… you can take whatever you want...”

I flip you onto your back and spread your legs. “Keep begging, bunny.” I order. “Beg to come while I fuck you.” It’s hard to think as I pull your leash tight and my cock plunges into you. Gasping and moaning, your leg starting to twitch, half formed thoughts flit through your mind as you plead “Please fuck me, pleas, sir. Please let… you can… you can do anything… you want, sir. Please. Please can I… can I… come… please, …sir.” The twitches in your leg become a sustained quivering. Bliss, hot and bright and insistent flows through your nerves like magma. Your toes start to curl and your breath catches in your chest. “Please can I… can I come on your cock, sir? Please… any… you can have anything from me, sir.” The tremors in your leg get faster as you grovel. As the ecstasy grows, they spread to your belly. Using the chain around your neck I pull you close, press a long smooth kiss onto your lips. “Come for me, my teasing, desperate, owned little bunny.” I smile, watch your eyes flutter closed and your jaw hang open.

A rapturous wave of pleasure starts in your pussy and sweeps through your whole body. Your ass is still burning and your nipples still smart from punishment as the orgasm floods over you. You surrender to it, leaning your head against my shoulder as you quiver and moan; a teasing bunny who got exactly the punishment she hoped for.

Mother woke me up. “Come, it’s time for Morning Penance.”

I blinked awake. I was as excited as I was anxious. This would be my first Morning Penance. A rite of passage, and a symbol that I was now a woman. A full woman, with all the duties that entailed.

I got up and gave my pussy a quick wash; she should be clean. I stopped. I was a woman now, not a child; I had a cunt. It made me smile.

I had shaved my cunt clean last night; just as all proper women should do, there should be no hair on it. Nothing should hide the sins of having a cunt. I was no longer a child but a sinful woman.

Together we went downstairs to the kitchen. Father was already waiting. It was a bit weird, but he was the head of the household, and that was that.

Mother went to the Lord's symbol, inclined her head and gave the Adjuster that hung under it a quick and devoted kiss. Then she took the Adjuster and handed it to my Father. It was a red leather strap with many ornaments. Each woman of our family had added to it. When I was married, I would add to it too, carrying on my family's legacy.

Wordlessly, my mother sat down on the kitchen table and hiked up her skirt.

I had watched my mother's Morning Penance for as long as I could remember, but today I would perform it too. I was a bit anxious and nervous. Could I be as faithful as her?

She laid her head back and spread her legs wide.

Mother exhaled and a calm spread over her as it always did. “Give me my Penance for being a sinful woman.”

Father stepped forward, raising the Adjuster high and cracking the strap of leather between my mother’s legs, directly on her cunt.

“I’m a sinful cunt. Cleanse me, purge my sin,” Mother said firmly and calmly. Her legs slightly trembled, but her words carried, as always, the devotion she felt. I hoped I would be able to be so devoted too.

“The Lord has given you a role.” My father continued the Morning Penance by smacking my mother again between her spread legs.

“I’m a worthless cunt. My role is to serve men.” I had learned the words to all the prayers in school, as every woman had. This was the Cunt's prayer recited for every Morning Penance.

“The Lord has given you a purpose.” And again, Father applied the Adjuster hard between her legs.

“A cunt’s purpose is to suffer. A cunt’s purpose is to serve men.”

“The Lord has created women for men to enjoy.”

His smacks were even and always directly on my mother’s clit. The clit that was the centre of all the evil of all women.

“I’m a filthy cunt. I have no other pleasure than to suffer.”

“The Lord has set men above women.”

Mother’s clit was red by now, her cunt lips swollen. But she didn’t cry or scream; I hoped I would be able to be as devoted to the Lord as she was.

“Cunts serve men. My only purpose in life is to serve and suffer.”

“Amen.” My father said, and he smacked the Adjuster down hard on her. The last smack was always the hardest. Mother tensed and grimaced with pain for a heartbeat.

My mother closed her legs and came off the table, falling on her knees in front of my father. She opened my father’s trousers and kissed his dick as any good wife should after receiving his blessing.

“Amen.” Mother said, looking up to him and putting his dick back into his trousers.

Father helped her up, and Mother smiled at me. “It’s your turn, darling. Your very first Morning Penance as a woman.”

I nodded; my throat was dry. I put myself on the kitchen table, pushed my skirt up, and opened my legs, exposing my sinful cunt.

I took a deep breath and started the Cunt’s Prayer.

“Give me my Penance for being a sinful woman.”

The Adjuster smacked between my legs, and I tried to hold the scream in. It hurt so much. It was hard enough to keep my legs open. I knew they had moved too close, but I had forced myself not to. It would have been too shameful to close them to the Lord's blessing. Screaming and crying was acceptable. That was what women were for. That was what the Lord had made us: creatures to endure pain.

“I’m a sinful cunt. Cleanse me, purge my sin,” I said between gritted teeth.

Father’s voice was full of pride. “The Lord has given you a role.”

Again, he hit my clit with the leather of the Adjuster. This Adjuster had been in my family for generations, handed down from mother to daughter. It would be mine when I married, and my husband would perform the Morning Penance with me.

My legs were shivering with my effort not to close them; my cunt and clit radiated the hurt throughout my body.

“I’m a worthless cunt. My role is to serve men,” I said the words and could for the first time feel the truth of them. Without the pain, the words had no meaning. The Lord has given us the pain to be able to feel the mercy of him and the men that owned us.

“The Lord has given you a purpose.”

I screamed. It hurt so much. I had trained, as every girl does, smacking my own pussy and making sure my legs stayed open, but the Adjuster was so much different from my hand. I knew I was crying. The Adjuster gave a woman the chance to feel the cleansing of a woman’s sins through its rigorous pain. It was the woman’s duty to open herself up to it.

“A cunt’s purpose is to suffer. A cunt’s purpose is to serve men,” I said between sobs. The pain made the words so true. Women had to suffer to serve men. From today onward, I was a woman, and my purpose was to serve and to suffer. It made me proud. Pain went away, but the sins of a woman were there forever. Our cunts were there to be used by men as they please. Our cunts were men's property. Our cunts were our sin.

“The Lord has created women for men to enjoy.”

The pain radiated again from my cunt. I was now crying hard. I knew in time, I would be able to perform the Morning Penance like a true devoted woman, to suffer and endure, but at least I hadn’t closed my legs. They had shifted as the Adjuster smacked down on my cunt relentlessly, but I had managed. It was so painful, but that was the purpose. I know my mother hurt too; she had told me. All women hurt, but as they grew older they were able to endure it with more dignity. Women had to hurt; cunts had to be punished. Sin had to be punished.

“I’m a filthy cunt. I have no other pleasure than to suffer,” I said between sobs and sniffles.

My father gave me a moment longer to recover before saying the next line of the Cunt’s Prayer.

“The Lord has set men above women.”

I clenched my fists and my core muscles. My legs trembled so hard. They had moved, and I knew it. I was a worthless cunt. I needed to be better, to be more dedicated to the Lord. Train my legs to stay open. Accept my Penance. His mercy.

“Cunts serve men. My only purpose in life is to serve and suffer.” It was hard to say the words. I knew the next hit would be the hardest and the last, but I had to say the word, finish my penance, my prayer. The words mattered. The prayer mattered. My suffering had to matter.

My hands grabbed the edge of the table, and I clenched my core muscles, forced my will to leave my legs open, to present my sinful cunt to the man that owned it. Until I was married and my cunt was owned by my husband, my father, as the head of the household, was the Lord’s tool. He would perform all the rituals to purge the sins from my sinful cunt.

“Amen,” Father said, and with it, the pain exploded between my legs.

I screamed loudly, trembling. My legs had twitched hard—not closed, but not open either. How could I be faithful and a good woman? I had to do better. I sobbed as I fell on my knees in front of my father.

As required, I slid off the table and knelt in front of him, head down. My tears tripped on the floor.

I was a woman now. A woman who could receive the Lord's blessing each morning, thought the man of the household.

I leaned forward and kissed his feet. Only wives were allowed to kiss the Lord's proof of man’s superiority, and he was my father. He had duties he had to fulfil. Purging the women in his household of their sins each morning, and he had and would until my husband would take over.

I took a deep breath. 'Amen.'

The Lord had blessed me. I could feel his cleansing pain between my legs. My sins were being purged, and I was, at last, a real woman.

Mother helped me up from the floor and hugged me; she was in tears of happiness.

“I’m so proud of you. You did well for your first Morning Penance. Do you feel the Lord's mercy between your legs?”

I nodded. I did. I felt it. The heat, the pulsing stabbing pain.

Father had tears in his eyes as he stroked my cheek. “You’ve grown up so fast. Soon you will be married.”

I bit my lip. I loved my Father for giving me the mercy of the Lord. But still I felt bad. I have not been as devoted and open to the pain as I should have been.

“I’m sorry I’m such a bad cunt,” I said between sobs.

“That’s okay, darling. The Lord knows it’s not easy as a woman. Tomorrow will already be easier. In time you will be able to receive the full mercy of the Lord's pain.”

Father handed me the Adjuster. My eyes widened. I was allowed to put it back? My hands shook as I took it from him. They were immensely proud, I could see. I had never held the Adjuster. The leather strap that had made generations of women in my family be devoted to the Lord. It must have felt so many cunts under it.

I hung it back in its place, under the symbol of the Lord. I leaned forward and gave it a kiss of devotion as was custom. Tomorrow, it will give me my Penance again, and hopefully I will be able to receive the Lord's mercy more openly.

I prayed quickly and silently. “Lord, let this worthless cunt know your mercy and grace.”

It was time for breakfast.

The first time you told me, “I like it rough,” we were in our hotel room overlooking the Strip. You were just slightly tipsy on mini champagne bottles, the effervescence still popping on your lips. I’m surprised I didn’t lose it right there with the hair-raising goosebumps of possibility.

Instead, I said quite matter-of-factly, “Oh yeah?” in the cool, comfortable baritone that I know makes you want to grind the nearest object (preferably, me). But, as I unhooked my belt, I pushed a little further, “You don’t even know what rough is.”

You bit your bottom lip, did that cute little nod, and then titled your head to the side. Of course it drives me wild when you play dumb. A vivacious nymph pretending to be a nun. Your hand–so small and cold and weak--grasped mine. You laced your short digits through my long ones and brought my palm to your neck. And you just barely whispered, ”It’s like this”. And it was the hottest thing you’ve ever done.

My palm slipped past and my forearm squeezed gently but firmly around your throat. You knew that you could trust me to be careful–firm, but sweet, just the way you like. And then I was climbing on top of you, pushing you face-first into the plush white comforter familiar to any hotel guest. Your dress was already half-unzipped, the smooth slender arch of your back warmed beneath my hand.

ZIP

“Let’s get the rest of that outta the way,” I teased as my hand slipped beneath the spread hem to cup your ass. You curled up against me, encouraging me to fill my palm. Easily done with an ass like yours. And suddenly, all those memories of groping and lightly smacking it turned into fantasies of bending you over my knee and bruising you like a peach.

“This is mine,” I hissed in your ear. And to make it slightly unclear which part of you I was referring to, I lifted your cheek and threaded my middle finger between your thighs. But of course you knew. You knew it was all mine.

You managed to free yourself from a pile of pillows and made your voice quiver, “What are you going to do to me, Sir?” There it was–that word. You weren’t as green as I thought.

I considered my reply. My options seemed limitless. But this wasn’t some Fifty Shades bullshit. Consent is hot. Even more so when it takes the form of begging, groveling, whining, or moaning. You were going to come clean. You were going to submit and admit what you wanted me to do to you.

So I grasped your ass, your hips now wiggling out of your dress, “Tell me what you want me to do with this.” I ended the sentence with emphasis, my fingers digging the punctuation into your firm flesh.

“I want you to smack it,” you replied, your teeth already chewing into Egyptian cotton.

“How hard? Like this.”

SMACK

The sound bounced between us and the high ceilings. I reached over, turned up the TV. Another CSI rerun.

“Mmphf. More.”

“More what? Be specific.” I was looming over you, my shadow making you look tiny. I leaned forward to whisper into your ear, “Your mouth is good for two things: sucking my cock and telling me how you want to be fucked.” God, what a word to use when I’m talking about you.

“Make it red.”

SMACK

You cried out before biting down to muffle the sound. Your hair was tousled now, falling in cascading waves across your blushing cheeks.

“Just red?” I dug my fingers into the sore spots.

“Maybe blue.”

SMACK

“Blue would look good on you.” And I didn’t realize it then, but I was growing into this burgeoning dynamic. All it took were those four words from you–I like it rough–and I was shifting comfortably into Dom space. The thought of leaving marks on you–bruises, welts, and more–had my erection demanding freedom.

I wanted to feel how wet you were–not with my hand, but while I was deep inside you. I wanted it to pour over me, to coat my cock as I stretched you.

How many times had we fucked before that night? And yet, it felt like the first. You were so remarkably tight. As soon as my cockhead was against your slit I knew it’d be a fight. But I let you squeeze my hand while I claimed you anew. You were running like a stream over me. Your juices pouring down my balls as I squished them against your lips.

Then–fuck–then I really started fucking you. I’ve never heard your ass clap that loudly against my thighs. Bottoming out at the apex of every thrust. You were moaning with satisfaction, undoubtedly giving the guests next to us an entertaining show. You kept bouncing your hips backwards, desperate to have me inside you each time I retracted.

You arched your back, let out a gasp, and your pussy clenched around my shaft like a fucking glove. I don’t think I could have pulled out if I wanted.

Tighter, tighter, tighter.

I was panting and huffing and grunting and—-------fuck.

There it goes. All of it. Inside of you. My cum spilling out, filling you up, drenching your pretty pink pussy with me.

“Good girl,” a phrase that made you shudder around me. Followed by another hearty SMACK. Who knew I’d enjoy watching your ass jiggle so much. It wasn’t quite bruised, but it was a beautiful red. A good start. I knew there was plenty of time ahead of us. But, for now, I told you to get dressed. We were going back out.

“No panties and no tissues.” Back out indeed. And you were going to let my cum roll right down your legs while I kept one hand ‘round your waist. Because–now–you were mine.

As the sun bore down on my reddening shoulders, all I could think about was the shade. It was the group stage of the World Cup, when everything felt possible. I sat perched in the middle rows of a massive stadium, surrounded by thousands of people, while the game raged on below. As everyone else’s eyes stayed fixed on the sport we had all come to see, I found myself fading away from it, eyes veering ever upward, toward that sun which dominated me.

My eyes moved up and down the rows of the stadium, split into two distinct fields: one of red and white, the other of yellow and blue. I wasn’t committed to rooting for either team; as per usual, I had come for the spectacle, come to be a part of something bigger than myself. For the most part, the other fans melded into mush. I perceived them not as individuals, but as moving waves of color. The ever-aching sun only served to soften my brain even more.

Exhausted, my eyes came to rest in a section just below me and to the right. I steadied my eyes there, fanning myself as the figures below me came more clearly into form. Suddenly, I noticed a pair of eyes looking back at me. Yes, there he was, body turned just to the left so that he could watch me watch everyone else. Our eyes met for a moment, and I felt heat rise in my stomach. Not more warmth, I thought, and tore mine away, looking for any other pair. They were all trained on the game, understandably.

When my eyes moved back to him, he was still watching me. This time, he smiled, and lifted a hand to wave. I could not return the gesture, my brows furrowed in confusion, and again I looked in the opposite direction. Even from far away, I could see that he was attractive, and the fantasies which instantly began running in mind shocked me. My hands balled up in fists as I tried to steady my breathing. I moved my attention back to the field, where apparently a decision was being made about a foul. In this moment of waiting, I decided to seek some shade.

I made my way up and out of my section, and back deeper into the stadium. As other fans passed me, I watched them see me. Yes, I wanted to be seen. It’s just this need that I have. But sometimes, it strikes me in a way that feels too pointed, too real. The way that man in the crowd had looked at me, his eyes, they held action inside them. I couldn’t shake the way they had struck me, becoming distracted again as I moved through the crowds.

I came to rest next to a water fountain. Sandwiched inside cool gray cement, I finally felt my brain start to function again. I took a few deep breaths and decided to have a drink. Coolness rushed through me and I breathed a sigh of relief. As I bent over the fountain, I heard footsteps approaching. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him.

Wait, is that him? I thought. Sure enough, it appeared to be the very same man with whom I’d unexpectedly stumbled into eye contact. I finished my drink and stood up, wiping my mouth. I looked at him look at me. I couldn’t help but notice that he was handsome, just my type. He just stood there, smiling. “Hello,” he said at last.

“Uhm…hi,” I replied, instantly apprehensive. What could this man possibly want from me right now? We stared at each other for a moment or two. I was still waiting to find out why he had come for me, but he appeared to be waiting for me to say something. “What’s up?” I said.

He laughed. “Oh, nothing. Do you recognize me?”

“From the crowd?”

“Yes.”

“Uhm, well yea.”

“Why do you think I followed you up here?”

“I was hoping you would tell me. I have no idea.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

He took two steps toward me, and suddenly we were very close to each other. My heart began to race, and I felt something deep in my stomach begin to stir. I took a deep breath, “I…really don’t know,” I said, but my conviction was fading. Even I didn’t really believe that.

“Do you want to come with me?” He asked, reaching for my hand. I stared at my wrist, fixated on the way my hand disappeared inside his. Before I had had a real chance to think, the word, “Yes,” came out of my mouth.

He led me down the corridor, hand in hand. We walked in silence until we reached a small door tucked beneath a stairwell. “One moment,” he said to me, smiling again. I watched him approach a stadium worker, who peered at me, shook his hand, and took two hundred dollar bills from him. The worker winked at me as he unlocked the door.

The man took my hand once more and slipped me inside. It was some kind of storage room, tiny and full of maintenance supplies. Suddenly, the reality of the situation was all too apparent. Why did I do this? I began to wonder. Can I even leave?

“Ah, it’s okay,” the man said to me, stroking my hair. “If this isn’t what you want, then you can go back to your seat, and I’ll just keep watching you.” He ran his thumb along my jaw. “But I think we both know that deep down, you only came to this game because you wanted someone to do this to you.” I whimpered, my pussy instantly quivering. “Yes,” I whispered.

For a while, he held me just like that, stroking me softly, wandering all over my body with his big, beautiful hands. “I saw you standing in line outside by the way. I knew I had to find you,” he said, as he began lifting up my skirt. “I had to know what it would feel like to touch you like this.”

My body was overwhelmed. My nipples were getting hard, my pussy was getting wet, my mouth was falling open. Every part of me was saying yes. My brain, which had been more so in maybe territory, finally turned off, and I melted into his arms as he touched me there for the first time.

I made a noise; not a moan, more high-pitched. A squeal. I gripped his arms, which were so veiny and muscular, just as beautiful as his hands. “Yes, you like it a lot, that’s good,” he cooed. “You’re so cute, I want you to enjoy every moment. I want you to always remember when that tall stranger pulled you into the maintenance room and made you feel this good.”

I squealed again, and found myself pulling my hips onto him. He got the message, and picked me up, resting my back against the door. Eye to eye, I was overwhelmed again by how handsome he was. Just before my brain had time to form a thought again, he kissed me. Or rather, he started tonguing the inside of my mouth. So he likes to kiss just like I do, I thought.

He pulled down my panties, fingering me with perfect skill. My back was hard against the door, but he touched me so tenderly that he was all I could feel. I moaned into his mouth as he fucked me with those gorgeous fingers. I couldn’t believe it, I was going to cum.

When I did, I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck, tonguing back his tongue while the waves rushed through me. No one had ever made me feel that good, and all he had used was his fingers. Suddenly, I felt the hunger inside me take over, and I had dropped to the ground, where I was unbuckling his belt as fast as I could.

At last, I got his pants undone, and his cock sprang out and hit me in the face. Long, thick, and uncut, exactly what I wanted. The sun had warmed it and given it a musk that I found delicious. Without thinking, I rubbed it on my face. I glanced up at him, and he was just watching me, smiling. “Do you like seeing me on my knees for you?” I asked. “Of course, baby,” he said.

I stared at it for a few seconds before I put it in my mouth. I wanted to memorize everything about this moment. When I finally started sucking on it, I felt an orgasm start to build inside me again. I had always loved sucking dick, and this one was extra special. I moaned as I sucked the tip, the vibrations spreading, making him moan back.

Before I knew it, he had pushed me down, and started fucking my face. “I’m sorry baby, but you’re going too slow,” he said as he rammed into my throat. I couldn’t breathe, and I didn’t even particularly want to. Tears pooled, but I just gripped his hips and pulled him closer. I loved the feeling of being filled by him; that meant more to me than air.

Drool rolled down my chin and onto my cleavage. Somehow, I was still fully dressed. I pulled my boobs out and rubbed the saliva all over them while he fucked my face. “Good giiiiirl,” he moaned to me, as he began to slide his cock through my cleavage and up into my mouth. Minutes ago, we were total strangers who had never exchanged a word, and now we were locked together, wet and panting, while thousands of other people stood just outside the door.

To my surprise, he came right on my face. I felt disappointment surge. Was he seriously not going to fuck me? I felt tears well in my eyes. He looked at me and laughed. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m still going to give you my cock. I just wanted to fuck you with my cum on your face.”

Indeed, he was still as hard as ever. Again, without speaking, he just pulled me toward him. He took my halfway down panties and pulled them all the way off. My boobs, covered in cum and spit, were already out. Otherwise, he left me in my dress and sneakers, spun me around, and rubbed the tip of his cock along the slit of my pussy.

“Please, Daddy!” I screamed, unable to go another moment without feeling him inside me. He smiled and laughed again, this time very softly. “You’re not a very patient girl, are you?” He put the tip inside me, just for a moment, then pulled it out. The sensation was too much, and by that point, I had fully started crying.

“Baby, you’re so sweet. Remember, I told you not to worry. You’ll get even more than what you want.”

Then he pulled back, and buried his face in my pussy, licking me with such force and intensity that the crying just got harder. In all my wildest dreams, I never imagined feeling this good. Maybe I really do just want to be used, I thought. Maybe I shouldn’t fight it so hard.

I couldn’t help but hump his face a little; it just felt so good. By the time he inserted a finger again, I was ready to cum, and I sobbed openly as he sucked on my clit while I tried to tear him away from me.

He wouldn’t budge. In fact, he just went harder. He moved up, his tongue swirling around my asshole. Oh my God, I thought, no one has ever done that before. My fingernails dug into his skin but he didn’t flinch. My hips bucked as he ran his tongue all over a part of me that no one else had ever touched. I could barely take it, my body crumpling from overstimulation. And he still hadn’t fucked me, I thought.

It was a premonition. Just as the waves of my orgasm began to soften, he held me in his arms and stood, lifting me up and off the ground in one nonevent. Then he pressed my face against the door, and pushed his cock all the way inside me. Instantly, I came again, or really, I had never stopped.

Our size difference made it easy for him to fuck me like a toy, ramming me in the door while his massive hands dug into the soft flesh of my hips and ass. “We don’t have girls like you where I’m from,” he told me. “The moment I saw you, I wanted to fuck you sooooooooooooo bad. Thank you for letting me do this to you.” He turned my face toward him and kissed me on the forehead, then he shoved it back in place and spat at me.

The feeling of him inside me was like nothing else. I knew he didn’t use a condom, and that just made me love it more. Rawed by a stranger in a utility closet, I mused to myself. He read my mind, “Yea, you’re the kind of slut every man dreams of finding.”

He took me from the wall, holding me in his arms with our faces pressed together. He held me like I was weightless, fucked me like it was all he ever wanted to do. Some cum ran down my face and he licked it off of me and spat it back in my mouth. Every thing he did to me was exactly what I’d always dreamed of.

He gripped my hair in his hands, pulling back my head as he drilled me harder than before. He laid me down on a table, where finally I could feel the full force of him. This is exactly why I like fucking men who are bigger than me. The way they can do anything they want to me, when nothing feels better to me than being used.

He put his hands around my neck, and he choked me so hard that I almost passed out. The force of his cock and the force of his hands made me feel like I was floating. More waves washed over me, and I started to feel dizzy. “Good girl, take it just like that,” he grunted. From this angle, he looked meaner, more aggressive, more objectifying, less tender.

He pushed his thumb up and into my mouth. His hands were so big that he could choke me and give me his finger to suck on at the same time. I cooed with it in my mouth. I licked and sucked on it and it felt so good to have him inside me, twice.

Then he took away his hands, leaning down close with our foreheads pressed together. His cock hit so deep inside me that I could feel my cervix ache. His balls slammed against my ass again and again. I screamed and squealed and shook beneath him. Full of his cock with his weight on top of me, I was beyond overwhelmed.

He rose and turned me toward the side, fucking me hard and deep once more. He started kissing me again, and as our tongues fucked each other too, I felt a deeper orgasm build. He grabbed and slapped my ass and tits, growling as he did so. “You’re so fucking cute,” he moaned into my mouth. “Thank you,” I managed to squeak out.

Again he raised himself up and off of me and pulled me back over the edge of the table. This time, he pulled my legs down and placed them on the ground, bending me over. He stood behind me and went back inside me. This was the roughest, the fastest, the most intense. Every cell in my body ached with pleasure as he railed me as violently as he could. I knew that he would cum again soon.

He placed a hand on the back of my head, and suddenly began fucking me with such intensity that I started to get a little scared. “Yes,” he exhaled, “Let me do whatever I want to you.” I sank deeper into the intensity, and again, any thoughts faded away. I was pure sensation. Just a wet, slobbering hole that wanted him to fill me.

His body arched as he came, growling so loud that I’m sure anyone on the other side of the door could hear. He collapsed on top of me, breathing ragged into the crook of my neck. “I’m so glad I met you,” he said.

We lay there for a while. “Well, I hope we didn’t miss any goals,” I said, joking. He laughed, “I really don’t care if we missed any goals.”