We could split our time together in two ways. Puppy, where you whine and moan and I give in and pet your head. And Bitch, where you bark when I tell you to bark, and you spread your ass, and take my cock with a feral growl.
Puppy, where I baby-talk you and run my fingers through your hair, gently grazing your scalp with my nails. Where I have you spread your legs for me so I can gently tease your pretty cunt. Long fingers traced around the lips of your cunt, the tip of my tongue circling around your clit as you writhe under me. Treats for taking it so well. Treats for stretching out your cunt with whatever I make you. Eager and needy for your owner's hand to press you down gently but firmly for his stiff, hard cock. Slow, gentle, lovemaking sex until I can tell my little puppy slut needs just a little more. Until I can tell you need it just a little harder. Even puppies deserve a little playtime, right?
Bitch, where I grab you by your leash, pull you close and have you drool on my cock, like it's a bone. Casually spitting on your face as I have you beg and whine and moan and bark for the opportunity to serve your master. Where I have the insides of your throat coated along the veins of my cock before I plunge it into your cunt. Feral and violent. Yelping as you feel my hips rock against yours. Eagerly pouring my kids into you. Convincing you that yes, dumb little doggy sluts like you can, in fact, get bred by anal sex. Only the most brainless, airheaded little bitches can get knocked up with their ass, I'd tell you, so stick that tongue out and drool for your own.
Puppy and Bitch. Two sides of the same owned, ditzy, airheaded little pet.
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That salary? Those hours? The benefits? Custom tailoring seemed oddly specific, but your chest-stretched wardrobe needed all the help it could get. Your new skirt-and-blazer combo was sharp and sexy, the underwear fit like a dream, and together it showed off everything you wanted while staying on juuuust the right side of professional.
For the first few months, anyway.
After a while it started to feel...tight. A little pressure around the waist. Some shortness of breath, barely noticeable unless you had to run between offices. And of course, just a tiny bit more cleavage. Must have shrunk a little in the wash, right? No big deal. With only one set of outfits offered per year, it was better to stick with them through a little oddness, even if it was strange how each piece seemed affected the exact same way.
So you kept telling yourself, even as it got a little worse with every passing day, until one morning you looked in the mirror and instead of breasts you had tits.
They hadn't grown, per se, but what you were seeing was definitely not on the right side of professional. In some tops they were practically spilling out, in others outlined a little too well, in a couple pushed up and together in a way that made them look entirely too fuckable, but in all of them the sort of obscene that seemed like it'd make you hard to take seriously.
Having spent too long shuffling through outfits to find one that didn't make you look like a sexy parody of yourself, you had no choice but to hustle out the door, trying your best to ignore the heaving.
It was less than thirty minutes before you were called into your boss's office.
"Surely you must realise that this is unacceptable," she says, gesturing at your...everything.
"I-"
"I don't want to hear it. We go to all the trouble of getting a whole wardrobe custom-made for you, and this is what you do? Cinch it up to show off those tits of yours?"
"But-"
"Quiet! It's always the same with you new hires. We give you an inch and you take..."
She pauses, staring emphatically at the sinful amount of cleavage you're putting on display.
"...a mile. Well, unfortunately for you, we have ways to remedy the situation."
She hands you a pair of what look like the detached half-cups of the bra you're wearing.
"Put these over your tits and maybe you'll stop giving every client who walks in the impression that we hire shameless sluts, hm? Five minutes."
With that, she walks out of the office and closes the door behind her. She doesn't bother to lock it.
Flustered, you quickly free your tits (that's what they are, aren't they?) and try placing the half-cups over them. Nothing happens at first, but then there's an odd sort of hum and they suddenly shrink. You don't feel any compression, but with the five minutes almost up you hurriedly stuff yourself back into your blouse just in time for the door to open again.
It's one of your coworkers. "Boss says time's up!" he laughs. "C'mon, that'll have to do, our team meeting is about to start."
You hurry down the hall after him, suddenly self-conscious and trying not to think about the amount of heaving that's still happening.
As you take your seat, your boss looks you up and down with narrowed eyes before turning away without a word. She opens the meeting's agenda, but you're only half paying attention; the suddenness of the whole thing has you rattled and even with the weird devices you still feel a lot closer to the wrong side of professional than you did last week.
Something brushes your nipple. You manage to keep from letting out a squeak, but the sudden jump in your seat still makes everyone turn to look at you.
"Ah, sorry! Please continue..."
Your boss gives you another Look before turning back to the projector. The second brush comes as less of a surprise, but that only lets you better take in the absurdity of the situation; was there something in those things she made you wear? No, there can't have been. They were perfectly smooth and even now the fit seems so snug that there wouldn't be any room.
You're still trying to puzzle it out when you're asked somewhat condescendingly for your update. Just as you stand to address the room there's a sharp tug that causes you to stumble forward, followed by the unmistakable sensation of licking.
Doing your best to ignore the snickering you stutter your way quickly through your report, one of your verbal hiccups turning into something close enough to a moan that your face flushes. You sit back down, a little unsteady but glad to no longer be the center of attention.
A few agonizingly, deliciously slow minutes pass, and when you manage to avoid attracting any more attention you start to think maybe you'll be able to get out of this (whatever it is) with some measure of pride intact.
There's another tug, sharper than before. You lurch forward onto the table, your tits displayed prominently against the hard surface.
Your boss turns to your co-worker. "Deal with her," she says curtly, and he escorts you firmly out of the room and back to her office. There's kissing and sucking on your shouldn't-be-exposed flesh the whole way.
He closes the door. It's locked, this time.
"Couldn't resist, huh?" he grins at you, taking a step forward. You try to cover your tits with your arms, but the sensations don't stop and he just laughs.
"Hey, I'm not doing anything," he says easily. "You're the one who keeps sharin' the goods with anyone who cares to look, aren'tcha?"
"N-no!" You stutter. It sounds unconvincing even to you, turning into a gasp halfway through as the distinct pinch of a clamp closes around both nipples at once. God, is that a chain between them? You shake your head and keep going, doing your best to avoid eye contact. "It was...m-my clothes, they..."
"...were perfectly tailored to you, yeah? Sure doesn't look like it now, does it, slut?"
You try to give him a reproachful look, but another gasp turns it into something more simpering. He laughs again.
"Well what else should I call someone who ruins a perfectly good set of custom work clothes to show themselves off to everyone?"
"I d-didn't! They, they changed shape or something, and then she brought me in here and put these things on me and-"
He takes two deliberate steps towards your boss's table and knocks on it five times. You have a brief moment to wonder dazedly why he's tapping out "shave and a haircut" before it's repeated in a series of pulls on what's apparently your nipple chain. The last one is so much stronger that you let out a full on yelp and stumble to your knees.
He crosses the room in unhurried strides, placing a hand gently but firmly on your head as you struggle to rise.
"What, you don't think we do social media checks on our new hires?" he says with an audible smirk. "Yeah, the boss told me aaaaaaall about you..."
The implications don't even have time to sink in before he reaches down and shoves on one of your tits, the device attached to it reshaping seamlessly to flatten itself against your chest. There's a weird bobbing sensation that distracts you for long enough for him to do the same to the other one.
Almost immediately, the clamps come off and are replaced by a rhythmic, mechanical suction. The change in stimulus finally forces an unambiguous moan out of you, and the only thing that stops you from dropping onto all fours is your face burying itself into his crotch.
You jerk backward, his warmth and size lingering on your cheek. He laughs.
"Get up, slut. You've still got a whole day of work before we even think about having any more fun with you."
Someone messing with my attribute sliders but they forget (or "forget") to toggle awareness off, so I feel my tits plump up to hentai levels, and my waist cinch in, my libido increase, and I'm suddenly dressed like a slut, and I look at you and shake my head.
You huff and then I look down and my tits are even bigger and there's this sense of emptiness in my head, my thoughts slower, words darting away from my mental grasp like flies.
"Wow, like, you really want to lean into the bimbo thing, then? Couldn't, um, handle me being smarter than you, so you totally had to make me like, um, vapid? Real impressive, not."
I can still register the irritation and embarrassment on your face, at least for a few more moments as you keep messing with the app sliders, and I am forced down onto my knees, my legs shaking as my arousal skyrockets, one hand moving to my gushing, dripping pussy, the other groping one of my massive, beach-ball sized silicone tits.
"Oh, f-fuck, s...so horny," I manage to stutter out, my lips looking like niche fetish porn and hard to talk around. "So bwave," I continue, drooling openly onto my fields of cleavage, humping my hand desperately. "G-gotta... make me real dumb... dummy. Feel big?" There's still a spark of defiance in my eye as I look up at you, tongue running around the obscene O of my mouth.
"Give cock? Only want to fuck super dummy slut?" Even begging for it, there's a sense of judgement, of condescension. "Is slut silly enough yet?"
Imagine being rage-baited by someone you made vapid and empty-headed enough that they couldn't even spell the word bimbo with the word written in front of them?
Roommates aren't meant to fuck. Things get messy and dramatic, and everything goes to shit. Roommates really shouldn't fuck.
If we lived together, you would regularly walk into the living room to find me jerking off. The sloppy, whorish moans of some pornstar on my phone and my legs spread apart on our couch as you watch my hand jerk back and forth. You'd find my bedroom door open constantly to find the same thing. The bathroom door as I shower and jerk off. Cum-stained tissues everywhere. Every time you'd find yourself wearing a tank top or shorts, or even a lovely, tight-fitting dress, you'd find me nearby, lewdly eyeing you up as I massage my cock through my pants.
Perhaps you'd finally break when you start finding your worn panties plastered in thick, sticky cum. And so you'd storm into my room, panties in hand, fully intending to set me straight. Except you'd walk in on my jerking off again. The resistance was doomed to die at the back of your throat from the moment you walked in.
"Well, I need somewhere to cum," I'd tell you, my cock in hand. "And if your panties are off-limits, your face is going to have to do." Roommates shouldn't fuck. Roommates really shouldn't fuck. Even as you crawl onto my bed slowly and press your face to my cock. All that pent-up neediness just overwhelming you now.
How dare this man be so audacious? Jerking off wherever he likes. Touching himself. Maybe you'd show him a thing or two yourself. And god. You really do need to cum, don't you?
I wonder how humiliating you'd find it to be completely ignored as a man jerked off onto your face. The slick, loud sounds of foreskin and precum as the porn resumes. You'd curse and swear at me in your mind, I'm sure. I really wouldn't care. I'd just want a place to blow my load. Your panties or your face, it wouldn't really matter as long as you understood your place. A cumrag.
You'd find yourself touching your cunt, almost grinding against your hand as your eyes lose focus. The veins and the ridges of my cock blurring into one thing. The need to just... kiss it a little, almost pushing you forward, but at the last moment you'd catch yourself. You can see everything. You'd seen me jerking off plenty of times, but never so close up.
"Get ready," I'd grunt. That'd be it. No other word of warning, and even that would come late. You'd barely have time to shut your eyes before you feel ropes of cum hit your face. A sticky, gooey, gross mess emptied all over your pretty fucking face. Unceremoniously, like some tissue. You'd feel it drip down, travelling the curve of your jaw. You'd feel drops of it against your lips, and you'd inevitably find your tongue snaking out to lick it off.
"Cool, thanks. You can go now," you'd hear me say, as you shuffle off back into the background. Used and thrown. In the bathroom mirror, you'd watch yourself slowly drawing my cum into your mouth.
Roommates shouldn't fuck. Roommates really shouldn't fuck... but maybe it was okay for roommates to be used as cumrags?
maybe this is a little weird, but i'd love to see forced growth huge lip humiliation, with the lips having an effect on the recipients ability to talk, like a lisp
"Mwuh! Pwease! Make 'euhm shtop!"
The worst part was that Maisie could barely see her expanding lips, except at the very lowest edge of her vision. She could certainly feel them, though. Pressure filled them and pushed them outward, ballooning her lips from merely full to plump and soft as they jutted forward from her face. The fuller they became, the harder they were to control, a permanent gap opening up between them. They wouldn't move how she wanted them too, forcing her to slur her words, fumble over the sounds. She was so panicked that she could barely scream, simply looking wide-eyed at the woman in front of her.
"Whoy? Whoy awe yhoo doing thisth??"
The dark-haired woman bristled. "Why? Really? You have no idea why I might want to do something like this to you? Not a single clue? Not even the tiniest inkling ofā"
"Nnhoouu! Ah'fe goh' no ahdeea!" Maisie's lips were starting to push against her nose, creeping down her chin, taking up more and more of her face.
The dark-haired woman glared at her. "Does the name Mark mean anything to you? Mark Stolworthy?"
Maisie had met the man at a hotel bar a few weeks ago, had gone up to his room and down on him, but what did that have to do with anything? "So whuh?"
"I'm Erica Stolworthy, you home-wrecking bitch."
Suddenly, Maisie's eyes went wide. "Oh, mah gowhd! Ah ha' no ahdeea! Hee di'n' teww me ahnyffing abow' a whaffe!" Through the revelation of what was happening, Maisie was finding it hard to think. Every time her lips pressed together or felt the vibration of her voice, pleasure spread through her. Without even meaning to, she started licking her lips, moaning softly as the plump cockpads glistened.
As her anger grew, Erica charged for Maisie, grabbing her by hair and forcing her head back. "Uh huh. How is love to believe that. I'm sure you asked about it, right? I'm sure you double-checked to see if he had a wedding ring? You just couldn't wait to put that pretty mouth of yours to good use."
Maisie tried to defend herself, but her lips just wouldn't cooperate. She felt overwhelmed in so many ways that she couldn't form words at all, stammering out slurred syllables from her overinflated lips. Erica let out a wry, derisive chuckle. "Well, now you should find that to be so much easier. Now everyone who looks at you is going to know what a greedy, cock-craving suckslut you are. They're going to take one look at you and know that nothing you have to say could be more important than shoving something between your lips. And, don't worry, I've made sure that you embrace what you are, too."
Erica slipped her thumb between Maisie's lips.
Maisie's mind went blank.
Clearly, she was no prude, but her lips were now far more sensitive than her pussy had ever been and feeling something push between her lips rewrote the core of her sexuality. Without thinking, she began to suck, moaning around the intruder.
The sensation made Erica gag and she yanked her thumb from Maisie's lips. That little touch, so very brief, had immediately gotten her addicted to sucking, an oral fixation to the higher degree.
"Muhh! Muhhh! Need moowe! Moowe thuck!"
As quickly as she could, Erica removed herself from Maisie, leaving the cocksucking slut to scramble, only settling herself by sucking on her own thumb. Erica wiped her thumb on her jeans. "I know Mark gave you his number. Why don't you give him a call? If you can, anyway. I gave him a little something, too, so you two are fucking perfect for each other now."
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"Fuck, kid, this is your fault, you know," I'd say as I fuck you into your bed. "This is your fault for tempting me with those nasty, slutty fucking pictures of yours. Arching your back and showing off those tits. Spreading your holes on a hairbrush for me. It's your fault that I need to empty my balls in you now."
"I mean fuck... I told you that you're far too young for me. I told you that one of us would end up in trouble if you kept on sending me those pictures. Shit. Shit, your cunt's so fucking tight, kid. I guess that makes sense. You're only a teenager after all." As I'd slip my fingers down your throat, gagging you with them.
"Right now... it looks like you're in trouble, aren't you? Getting your holes all stretched out and abused by an older guy. Is this what you wanted, you hot little fuckslut? You knew I'd find you too pretty to resist. You knew I'd end up caving. Night after night of snapping and sexting and calling. You thought I wouldn't want to try the real thing for myself?"
I'd lean in now, my hips grinding against hers as my voice goes dangerously low.
"That feel good, kid? Huh? Yeah, it's feeling really fucking good for me too. It's feeling so good that I might end up cumming in you. You okay with that? If I poured my fucking babies in you? If I turned you into a teen mommy? Are you ready for that? For an older guy to turn your womb into a baby-maker? This is what you were made for, right?"
"Jesus, fuck, baby... I could blow my fucking load in you right now, and I'd ruin your life with a kid. Is that what you want? I think it is. I think that's why you got my dick so fucking hard. You just wanted to be knocked up by me, didn't you? Yeah, you did. So just stay there like a good fucking girl and let me breed you. That's a good fuckdoll. Such a good fucking breeding toy. Still so young, and you're already gonna become a mother. That's so fucked up."
At this point, I wouldn't hold back. I'd take my fingers out of your mouth and begin cumming. No matter if you were pleading for more cum or for me to pull out. I'd just hold you down and firmly fuck my icky jizz into that tight pussy of yours.
Panting gentle reassurances into your ear that it's okay. That you'll finally be claimed by me. Properly.
Someone has been slipping me cow hormones as of late, Iām slowly growing and getting dumber
0.0 moooooo
I mean, that's one of, if not the best thing about being a cow, right?
You don't have to think.
You don't have to be smart.
You have a singular purpose and you'll be reminded of it every time you feel your huge udders swell and engorge with milk.
Thinking is for people, silly!
I know it might seem a little scary because you don't know who exactly is slipping you the cow hormones, but that's okay! I promise, it'll all be fine!
Before long, you'll be too dumb to worry about silly things like that.
You'll be a cow! So dumb and empty and vacant, with big boobies to bounce and jiggle while you let out happy little Moos! Doesn't that sound nice? Doesn't that sound amazing?
No more work. No more responsibilities. Everything taken care of for you so that you can dedicate all of your time and energy to making the most milk possible.
Your new owner is going to be so proud of you! And you're going to be so happy when you finally meet them! They're your owner! They're going to look after you! They're going to make sure your udders get as big as they can and help you drain all the yummy milk you make out of them. You're going to love them.
So just relax! Take a deep breath and stop trying to cling to your intelligence. Just let yourself get dumber. It'll all be okay. It'll all feel so good, having your massive udders sucked on day after day after day. You're going to make your new owner so, so proud, won't you?
i need to have your fingers in my mouth while you jerk off in front of my face because i havenāt earned sucking your cock yet. pressing down on my tongue, making me gag on them, pulling them away so you can slap me if i whine because iām not allowed the real thing that is right in front of me
will forever love being given rules or instructions i just cannot follow. i love being set up to fail. gag me and tell me i need to say thank you after each slap or spank, punish me for only being able to give muffled, unclear words and whines. make fun of me for how stupid i sound trying anyways. that sorta thing, yāknow?
Women, your man has every right to watch porn while he fucks you. Be a good girl and hold up his phone in front of your face while he watches pov porn videos of girls that look way better than you. Donāt talk or complain, just let him use your cunt to jerk off to porn. Porn was made for men, even while having sex with his property, itās his right to watch it whenever the hell he wants. Even on your anniversary night, even on your birthday, even when you put in effort to look good.
Youāre a sex toy, an object for him to use to jerk off. You expect him to be able to get off using your body alone? Men deserve better. Donāt complain, be a good girl and find more porn for him to jerk off to if you want a healthy sex life with your man.
You love the idea of being used, of being degraded, of being compared to the perfect women on screen. You want your man to watch porn while he fucks you, to see you struggle, to see you fail to measure up. You want to be his good girl, holding up the phone, letting him jerk off to images of women who are better than you. You want to be silent, to comply, to accept your role as his fucktoy.
You think men deserve better? You're damn right they do. They deserve to use you, to abuse you, to discard you when they're done. You think you can provide all the pleasure he needs? Fuck that. You're just a warm hole, a convenient tool for his satisfaction. So, shut up, take it, and be grateful he even bothers with you. Find more porn for him, make his fantasies come true, and maybe, just maybe, he'll let you stay around a little longer.
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You shouldn't have made fun of that womans lisp, turns out she was a witch and shes about to give you a lip swelling speak impediment of your own
"If'th you loo' a'th mwy s-s'wides, you'th can s'wee th'at ith bin a g-gwate q'water," you all but managed to get out the words in front of your colleagues, your Directors, and the company's Sr. Vice President of Sales.
Sure, it took almost twenty seconds to say something out would verbalize in only five...
Sure, you might have drooled all down your white button-up shirt while doing so...
And sure, your mouth may now be locked in an almost comical 'O' shape ā much like the 'mouth' of a blow-up doll ā when you weren't talking...
But this was just your new normal, now.
And frankly, the changes to your body and speech weren't even the cruelest, or hardest part of the curse to reconcile with. It was the fact that (to everybody else around you) this was just how you'd always looked and sounded!
You were known as 'the big lipped closer', 'the filler filled fixer', or 'the drooling sales savant'.
Your boss, your colleagues, your friends, even your girlfriend all just knew you as the same person you'd always been, but with a life-long obsession with getting more, and more, and more filler in your 'famous cock-socket' (as 'mouth' and 'DSLs' never seemed like a good enough description, for what you were or what you'd done to yourself).
"Th-Th'wank you f'wor y'wor t-time'th!"
It wasn't all bad, though. There ere... 'perks' to these lips. Perks that, as the Sr. Vice President of Sales followed you with his eyes ā one hand clearly under the table moving slowly, and his eyes locked to your cock-socket mouth ā as you sat back down, you'd soon find yourself 'making an opening' for.
Tonight you were just a silly little cockwarmer. Your husband had dosed you heavily. You were still awake but moving was hard. Your husband was watching porn. His hands went to your hips and started lifting you up and down. He stays still, using you like a fleshlight while you just drool.
Soon he nuts in you. Now you are leaking from two holes.
you want to be mindless? well then you never get to talk again. you never get to make another decision for your entire life. you didn't read the fine print when you asked for me to take away your thoughts and that isn't my problem, mutt. now bark :)
I was talking with [redacted] about how cats are more affectionate when they want food and whether the same principle would apply to hungry subs.
Then I thought about how nice it would be to feed a desperately hungry girl by hand. I imagine us sitting at the dining table with her in my lap, her hands tied tightly behind her back, helpless in my arms. Sheās been on a very restricted diet for days, not so bad that her stomach has shut down but bad enough to leave her famished and desperate for food.
It would be so cute. On the table would be all kinds of bite sized food: sushi, chopped up vegetables, bits of cookies and cake, a sandwich cut into pieces.
Iād feed her by hand, bite by bite, but there are so many little games you can play. First of all she has to behave. Donāt be too eager. Sit up straight, sit pretty, donāt lean toward the food. Donāt open your mouth too soon, wait for the food to come to you then eat it. No no no no, thatās too early. Try again. No no still too early. Oh well Iāll just eat this bite myself then.
Hereās another bite, letās try again. Bring it to your lipsā¦ no, you have to open them in time. You didnāt open your mouth so Iāll just rub this on your face. Okay, next bite.
Then thereās the forced babying.
This bite is an airplane coming in for landing, wheeeeeurmmmā¦ open up, thatās a good baby. The next bite is a train going chk-chk-chk into the station. No, thatās too soon, the train isnāt at the station yet. Letās try again.
My, youāre making a mess. Youāre so messy, youāll have to wear a bib. Oh it says āFEED MEā thatās so cute.
Then there are the difficult foods.
Hereās a carrot, better bite pieces off fast because itās going all the way in right now.
Oh did I put too much cayenne on that bite, Iām so sorry. Here, have some water to wash it down, big gulp, okayā¦ oh, oops, that was the vodka.
Then, this is a bit more complicated, imagine lettuce cut into long thin strips. I can hold a bunch of strips by one end, hold them up so you can get the other end in your mouth.
Good, now swallow. Yes, swallow while Iām still holding the other end. Good, good.
Now Iāll justā¦ slowlyā¦ pull them back outā¦
My girl greeted me excitedly at the door. Sheās like a puppy that way, jumping up and pawing at me. I stopped her with a stern āsitā and she sat down at my feet.
I patted her head. I liked how sheād dressed for me today. A short skirt, colorful woolen socks, and a strappy top with so much cleavage that I could say hi to her nipples when she bounced. Which she did a lot. My little slut.
āIs everything ready?ā
āYah!ā she said, and scrambled off to the kitchen on all fours. I went to the living room, where sheād set a nice table for us. Real napkins, candles, the whole thing. There was a bottle of wine that Iād brought yesterday. I donāt let her choose the wine, obviously, thatās too complicated for her.
She came skipping out of the kitchen holding two plates proudly. She set hers down, and kissed me when she placed mine in front of me. I reached up under her skirt to rub her butt absentmindedly while I savored the aroma.
She really had done well. The food smelled lovely, and it was the same meal weād had on the night weād made it official, exactly one year before. Experimentally I cut off a piece of potato, blew on it to cool, and tasted it. Yup. Soft but not crumbly, and enough butter to be tasty without making it greasy. I speared some broccoli, which gave just the right amount of resistance. Cooked but not mushy. The steak was perfect too, juicy and spicy and a light pink throughout.
āThis is wonderful, darling,ā I said. āYou can go ahead with yours.ā
She bounced excitedly (hi nipples!) and quickly took her plate back to the kitchen. God, girls are so energetic. I donāt know how I even keep up. Soon I heard the blender run. We had our little rituals, like every couple, and this was part of ours. I waited with my meal while she was busy; it would be impolite to start without her.
She came back holding her blended food in a pastry bag, the kind youād use to squeeze frosting onto a cake. It had a nozzle, and the food mix was thick enough not to dribble out of the bag on its own. She still held it carefully, though. She knew who would be licking the floor clean if she spilled any.
She kissed me again, then knelt down and nestled into her safe place, curled up under the table between my legs. She rested the side of her head on my foot and took the nozzle in her mouth.
We finished the meal that way, with me eating mine from a plate and my pet suckling at the bag at my feet. I paced her by putting my other foot on the pastry bag, pressing down on it to squeeze more into her mouth occasionally, so that we finished at the same time.
Then it was time for dessert, but thatās another story.
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She'd been napping, but the sound of footsteps brought her out of it.
Two, she thought. One she didn't recognise. The other she did.
Master.
"-just in here because this is where the cage lives."
Master's voice. Instantly she was up and on her knees, in position like she'd been trained. It was automatic, and she also knew it was what he wanted, so even if it hadn't been automatic she would have done it anyway.
When the door opened she was ready, and she smiled at her, which was everything.
Another man she didn't recognise was with him. Men mattered more, she knew, but Master mattered most, and he was right there, so it was him all her attention was on.
"Must have heard us coming," the other man said.
"She knows the sound I make when I walk," Master said, clearly proud. A big bubble of happiness built inside her. Master was proud of her! "She's coming along very well."
"No more talking back?" The other man asked.
"Heh, well. I couldn't get rid of that completely, but she's certainly much better behaved now. And at least now she isn't talking back with words. Pups don't have people words, do they?"
This last part was a question, and so she knew she was expected to answer. She yipped, frowning. She hadn't meant to do that, she'd meant to actually say something, but the words hadn't come. They couldn't. They hit something and came out like that. Something he'd put there. Knowing that made her whimper.
"Very cute. And being locked in the cage is part of that?"
"Oh, it's not locked."
"No?"
"No. Doesn't need to be. I put her in and shut it, she comes out when I let her. Why would I need to lock it?"
What he'd built in her head was much stronger than bars, anyway.
The other man had noticed and picked up something that had been hanging on the outside of the cage. He was squinting at it. When this didn't make it any clearer, he held it towards Master for an explanation. Master chuckled.
"Little hard to read. I had her write that. Pen between her teeth. It's meant to say 'I am a good girl I do what I am told and I make Master's cock cum lots' but, well, I mean..."
Master took the sign and turned it so she could see. Squiggles and smears.
"Pups don't have people words, do they?" He said again.
She felt so small when Master used that tone on her. She felt herself drip onto the bottom of the cage, making the wet patch that had already started between her legs just that little bit bigger. Her lip was wobbling. Master noticed.
"I think we should let her out," he said, taking the leash from where it was hanging. "Let her stretch her legs. And maybe show you a few of the other tricks I've got her to learn."
Master opened the cage and motioned for her and she bounded out, holding still for him to clip the leash to her collar, the only people word she could really hold onto just ringing over and over in her head:
oh I get it. you're the type of boy to beg for a fleshlight in the cunt
M-maybe so. I literally want somebody to do this to me sooooo bad š I know itās patheticā¦. Sometimes I even beg doms to call their fleshlight by my name (usually they laugh and tell me my name doesnāt even matter to them, which is fair. Maybe itās me who should just be called āfleshlightā and nothing else).
Thatās how badly I want to be a toy. I just love that it pretty much feels the same for you without sticking it in me, but that my objectification, humiliation, and pain enhances your experience. Not to mention the novelty of your fleshlight making noise, fighting back, crying, cumming, etc. Itās the closest equivalent to sadistic strap voyeurism that a cock haver can get lol. And youāll get enhanced fantasies for all your future masturbation sessions.
And honestly? Iāve cum a lot from just cockwarming, especially if itās a big stretch. I would probably cum with it barely jostling inside me as you fuck it. And then Iād probably wail because it would hurt, with it being so hard and the shape not really being designed to be shoved inside a human being. After you quickly masturbate with me, you should leave it inside me. Force me to stay wildly uncomfortable and open, aching for the cum that I canāt feel, until Iāve begged myself hoarse for your cock, just for some relief (then fuck my other hole while the fleshlight is still stuffed inside me? I should be careful what I wish for š). Hnnngggg using me while refusing to āhave sexā with meā¦ literally masturbating with my bodyā¦ā¦ā¦
My ultimate fantasy would be getting a fleshlight shoved into all 3 holes and being humiliated and emasculated for having ā3 pussies.ā Just the ultimate pussyboy. and having a huge group of people use me. After all, thereās no real risk if theyāre not actually cumming in me, right (not that they canāt pour their cum into my gaping holes when theyāre done)? And they could choose to slide in bigger or smaller fleshlights, fantasy shaped ones, and to ignore me completely or vibe my tdick to force me to cum. Hopefully while reminding me that Iām a toy that is somehow meant to be filled but so worthless that I donāt even deserve to be properly fucked.
Feeling so stretched and used up but still neglected and cockhungry, tdick unbearably hard, Iād be abandoned there still chained up. because toys donāt need aftercare.
Anyways, fleshlight pics and vids are always welcome, ESPECIALLY if you tell me how you thought of me when you used it āØ Iām going to go fuck myself really hard nowā¦
Pink Bimbo Dolly @pinkbimbodolly - Tumblr Blog | Tumlook
