Over and over until your eyes roll up. Then well beyond. You’re not cumming today, but you’re going to try every time. If I sense you’re holding back…well…that’s what the belt is for. And you know how much I like to see your pussy even redder and pudgier than it is now. How it gets to that shade is up to you.
Symphony of Desperation
Muscles strain against rope in time with incoherent moans, lovely sounds echoing in his ears as he gazes down at her. She’s getting too quiet, too comfortable, so he tugs on the chain connecting her nipple clamps, relishing the way her eyes flutter open in surprise and her voice catches in her throat when her cries escalate. He presses the vibrator into her clit, listening to her desperation as she tries to grind against it, though her bonds allow precious little movement.
He lets go of the nipple clamps, focusing on the vibrator at her clit, and her sounds become more mellow and even as her pleasure deepens. Slowly, he builds, listening to her moans echoing his actions, growing in pitch and volume until she begins begging.
“Please,” she pleads, “please, oh god, please…!” He grinds the vibrator against her and she cries out sharply, breathily.
“Please what?” he prompts. He can hear she is getting close now.
“Please sir!” Her voice is high and unsteady, punctuated by whimpers.
“It’s ok, you can ask me, my pet.” He laughs at her wordless cry of dismay and turns the vibrator up higher.
“Please, please, please” she pants between moans. The way her voice hitches between moans is captivating, and he grinds the vibrator against her clit, making his own music as her cries crescendo.
“Ask me properly, girl,” he commands in that tone that he knows will make her gush, and he emphasizes it with a steady pull at her nipple clamps. He is rewarded by a desperate moan as the pain brings her closer. “Ask me,” he commands again.
“Please sir,” she respond beautifully to his sternness, but pauses to whimper, so he pulls just a little harder on the chain. “Please sir… Please don’t let me cum.”
He turns the vibrator up higher, and keeps pulling on the chain until her the pretty little sounds she is making turn into panic. She doesn’t have permission to cum. “Please sir,” more desperate, truly begging now, “Oh god, please don’t let me cum!”
When he is sure she can’t hold back any longer, he pulls the vibrator away, savoring her sob of anguish at the loss before tugging viciously on the nipple clamps, intensifying her sobbing to a yelp of agony. “Gladly,” he murmurs, releasing the chain, leaving her panting and whimpering. And then he starts building again, slowly introducing the next movement in his symphony of desperation.
He was watching her.
She was face-down on the bed, wearing nothing but the white cotton panties he’d told her to leave on. She’d placed a pillow between her spread thighs and she was rocking against it, her forehead pressed against the mattress, her breath coming in pants. Her clit was throbbing and she was so close, so close—
And he was watching her.
She hadn’t stopped blushing once in fifteen minutes.
It wasn’t as though she’d never come in front of him before. It wasn’t as though he didn’t know she masturbated.
It was just—she was—it—
She was all spread out in front of him, and desperate, and humping her pillow.
Just the thought was enough to make her cheeks start burning again.
She raised her head to look at him, her gaze landing somewhere around his chin because she just couldn’t make eye contact right now. “Can I…” Her voice was too breathy; she stopped and swallowed hard before trying again. “Can I stop now?”
In response, he reached over and pressed two fingers against the crotch of her panties, rubbing every-so-slightly over her cunt. He hummed in contemplation, waiting for her to push back onto his fingers before removing them, then shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. “You need to be wetter.”
It turned out she could meet his eyes if it was to glare at him. “I’m soaked.”
“Are you?” he said. His fingers returned to her panties. “Why aren’t these wet yet?”
“Because…” Somehow because I have a weird vagina didn’t seem like it would be an acceptable answer here. So she huffed at him again. “I’m wet, not my panties.”
He grinned, like he couldn’t quite help himself. “You’re cute,” he said, and then his hand cupped her, palm over her cunt, middle finger over her clit. She groaned, dropped her head back to the mattress, and he said, “You know when you’ll be ready for me?”
“Right now?”
“No, silly girl.” He rubbed his finger in gentle, idle circles over her clit. “When your panties are completely soaked through. That’s when you’ll be wet enough.”
“Well, if you keep doing that…”
He moved his hand away. “Nope. Keep going. Get yourself wet for me.”
With a groan, she started rocking her hips against the pillow again, head still down.
“And look at me.”
Her blush started burning again. And she tried to ignore the way her cunt was suddenly gushing as she slowly, reluctantly raised her head up and met his gaze.
Everyone always thought it took drugs, or magic, or hypnosis or subliminal messages to turn a woman into your personal sex slave. Jacob knew better. It took just two things; patience, and a good supply of massage oil.
They’d been dating for about a month when Jacob let it slip that he’d worked as a massage therapist. Unsurprisingly, Betsy jumped at the chance to get a free rubdown from her boyfriend. From there, it was just a matter of time before she was his.
He started slowly, working the oil into her skin, talking to her in a low, soothing voice about nothing in particular. He let her body lead the way, the constant touch stirring wave after wave of endorphins that lulled her into a state of relaxation and calm. It was a lazy Saturday, she wasn’t worried about the time. It was the perfect opportunity.
He gradually began to massage her erogenous zones, sending tingles of arousal through her body to intensify the dopamine high. Once he was convinced she was no longer thinking, only feeling, he began slowly rubbing her clit. She tried to hump his fingers, her body already primed for orgasm, but she was too relaxed to do more than gently squirm under his touch.
He kept going for hours like that, keeping her just on the edge of cumming, his slick fingers swirling over and over on her sensitive clit. Her voice became slurred with pleasure, then slowly melted into whimpers and moans as the heavy doses of natural drugs took their toll on her ability to think.
Only then, after time had lost all meaning for her and her thoughts had dissolved into a cotton-candy blur of mindless bliss, did Jacob begin explaining to her what he wanted her to become. She couldn’t respond with words; she was too deep for that now. But the way her moans intensified told him that she was turning into the good girl he wanted her to be.
That didn’t mean he stopped.
As his cock slid deep inside her after the 20th edge of the day, he could see the acceptance sinking into her exhausted body and broken mind…
Nothing was left after the first 15 but animal reflex and barely coherent single words silenced by the gag… Need… Want… Aches… Please… God…
And now, even these had ceased… Just mindless rolling of the hips and animal moans ripped to the surface…
That’s it, girl… Cock goes in… Mind goes out… All your thoughts and dreams… Even your lust and need… Leaking out of your traitorous, dripping little hole… This is what lies beyond desire… Beyond desperation… This is what you were born to be…
Remember
Wendy stared longingly through the bars at the plush bed just four feet away from her cage. It was an expensive piece of furniture, a king-size mattress, richly covered with a duvet.
Instead, she was curled up on her side in a cage on the floor.
The bed, she had been told in no uncertain terms, was for the comfort of her visitors. For Wendy, it was a piece of furniture for her to be fucked on, not sleep on.
Even if she wasn’t put away in the cage, she wasn’t allowed on the bed or any other piece of furniture unless given permission to do so. House rules. The punishment for such an infringement had been made clear to her, and it wasn’t something she wanted to risk.
The cage wasn’t too bad. Whenever Wendy was put back inside, she was usually so exhausted she fell asleep immediately.
She spent her time in the cage napping and watching the door to see who would visit her next.
Her visitors came at all hours and in all numbers. Usually Wendy got to come. Sometimes she wasn’t allowed to. Sometimes her visitor deliberately denied her orgasm.
The door opened.
It was Mrs. Whitehall. She was wearing a short, silky yellow robe that jutted obscenely over a protrusion at her groin. Wendy eyed it warily.
“Good afternoon, Kiki,” Mrs. Whitehall said as she turned to lock the door behind her. The key went back into the pocket of her robe.
Wendy became instantly alert, rolling from her side to her knees in the cage. “Good afternoon, Ma’am.”
“You look a little lonely in there. You don’t have to worry that we’ll neglect you. Jerry and I have been discussing your stay with us, and we feel you’ll benefit from our strict attention.”
Mr. and Mrs. Whitehall were her neighbors. From the cage in their attic guest room, Wendy could glimpse through the window the roof of her own house, which was currently empty, since Wendy wasn’t occupying it.
Mrs. Whitehall slipped off her robe, hanging it on a hook on the back of the door. A black strap on dildo, long and nearly curved, protruded from between her legs.
Mrs. Whitehall bent to unlock Wendy’s cage and snapped her fingers by her leg.
Wendy crawled out.
“Kneel up, Kiki.”
Wendy cringed with blushing humiliation even as she followed her Mistress’ orders by sitting back on her heels and spreading her knees. Her hands she placed behind her head. Kiki was her fuck toy name, chosen for her by the Whitehalls. Kiki was a mindless slut, motivated by the needs of her body.
“Very good, Kiki,” Mrs. Whitehall cooed. “Up on the bed, Kiki. Hands and knees like a good slut.”
Wendy crawled onto the bed and positioned herself: hands and knees, legs apart. Mrs. Whitehall went to the closet, opening the doors wide. A variety of BDSM implements resided inside, but Mrs. Whitehall ignored them. Instead, she pulled out a tripod and small video camera and set it up deftly, pointing the lens at the bed. Wendy’s stomach contracted.
“We’re going to document your progress,” Mrs. Whitehall said brightly. “Smile for the camera, Kiki.”
She climbed on the bed and slapped Wendy’s flank. Wendy held still. Fingers circled her clit and slipped between the folds of her sex, probing insistently.
“Good Kiki! Good little slut. You’re already lubricated.”
The silicone head of the strap-on cock pushed into Wendy. Wendy groaned. She couldn’t help arching her spine and tilting her hips back, inviting more of the hard length into her. It felt so good.
Mrs. Whitehall thrust into her slutty pet. Kiki’s body was squirming. Vibrating with excitement. So delicious. She pulled out halfway and watched Kiki hump backwards eagerly trying to fuck herself on the dildo.
“Don’t worry, Kiki. You’ll get what you need,” Mrs. Whitehall teased, thrusting back into her pet.
She fucked Kiki with short, fast jabs that make the girl’s tits jiggle. Mrs. Whitehall and her husband were dissatisfied with the size of Kiki’s tits. They could be plumper, heavier…more for them to play with. They were taken with the idea of changing their pet’s body. They were talking to people who had access to specialized pharmaceuticals that would help with enhancement. A strict regimen of injections, and their fuck toy would have a lush set of heavy, milk-filled tits. Milk production was an added benefit.
The source video clip for this was wicked.
A young man is locked in a cage with a thick steel hook that has been twisted around the wire roof stretching his ass. His briefs are pulled down around his thighs, exposing a cute little cock locked in chastity.
Some thoughtful person has wedged a vibrator between bare skin and hook, sending a relentless hum of pleasure coursing through him. Even though it’s futile, he can’t help but move his ass against that hook, bringing himself closer and closer to that edge of blissful fulfillment that remains denied to him.
It was almost hypnotic. I watched his stomach and chest rise and sink. I watched his beautiful muscles flexing while I slowly rubbed his dick which was as hard as his abs.
“Please…”, he moaned weakly, “…please let me cum…god, I beg you…please…”.
I awoke from my trance. I looked up at him and smiled. “You’re too beautiful, you know that?”
“Please…”, was his only response.
“And I don’t just mean your body.”, I continued as if nothing happened. I kept stroking his dick while I kept talking, causing him to grab the bed frame. His hands weren’t really tied above his head, it was rather just a loose reminder of his vulnerability. He knew I could fasten the ropes with one short movement. “The way you plead…the way you beg…”, I said. I bent down and kissed his stomach. “That’s your true self. Your inner beauty. How you truly are.”
“Just…mngghh…please, just a bit more…”, he begged.
I felt the precum leaking out his dick again. He was so sensitive. His dick was twitching and ready to burst after the slightes movement.
I took my hand off.
“Nooo-oooh…”, he squirmed on the bed. His hands twitched and let go off the frame.
“Hold your position, boy.”, I ordered. “If you take your hands down you’ll be punished. It’s not up to you to decide when you’ll cum.” I took a small break. “Or if.”
“Sorry, Sir…”, he whimpered. “It’s just so close…and…what do you mean by ‘if’?”
I watched his eyes widen as he began to realize and a satisfied smile became visible on my lips.
“No, Sir…please, don’t…with all I have to offer I beg you…don’t leave me like that…”. His last words almost transformed into soft sobs.
I kissed his cheek. “You reminded me today what true beauty looks like.”, I explained. “And there’s no way I could let go of that. I have to make sure it will sustain…I have to make sure it can’t be destroyed. You understand that, right, boy?”
He whimpered. “Yes, Sir.”, he managed to say with a high pitched voice.
I caressed his chest. “Such a good boy.”, I nodded. “Now show me how strong you are. Don’t move. I’ll get a bag of ice and your chastity device. I’ll make sure we’ll conserve what we achieved today.”
I stood up and walked to the door. “That doesn’t mean we’re done playing for today.”, I said over my shoulder.
While I walked to the kitchen I smiled as I listened to his desperate but indescribable cute whining.
my corner 