r. thorne writes

a lot of what i write is a combination of third person kinky vignettes and first person fem domme, but a lot of the language is pretty gender neutral, so take it as you will.

askbox and dms are both open (for now), but i probably won't reply to either unless i'm really feeling like it. i'm giving you the erotica--everything else is your problem. and if you can't figure it out? sounds like a skill issue on your part, sweetheart. (currently feeling like replying to asks, but will be inconsistent in any dm-ing. guidance can be found here)

sir or ma'am are both fine, if you feel the need to use some sort of honorific. mommy is not.

i'm not looking for a relationship. i won't be your domme or your sub or anything in between or otherwise.

Audrey tries to protest, but that would require taking the dildo out of her mouth, and it feels so good in her mouth, thick and heavy and sending pleasure shivering all down her spine.

"That's okay," Shana says. "I'm sure this is just a phase. I mean, you're the one who said that only subs like sucking cocks, and you're not a sub, are you?"

Aubrey shakes her head, drool running down her chin.

"That's right," Shana coos. "My little switch, and proud of it. Only...if it's just subs who like sucking cock, and you're all wet and messy just from having one in your mouth, what does that make you?"

Aubrey almost answers, but then Shana nudges the dildo another half-inch into her mouth, and she gets distracted by that instead.

Absolutely!

Two tasks, and you can take them as an either/or:

Practice your makeup or nail polish and reward yourself with an orgasm when you get it right. A sharp red lip, clean nail polish application with no mess, bronzer or contour or blush that flatters your face just the way you want it to--each of those deserves their own orgasm.

Here are two tasks, and you can take them as an either/or:

After you cum, the first thing you need to do is find something to hump for at least five minutes. And not something soft, either--a counter, the corner of a table, the side of a bathtub, the arm of a couch. Really grind your sensitive t-dick against it. If you cum again, the five minutes restarts.

After your first orgasm, keep going until you have a second, so you have at least two every time. And if you can't manage to get to a second orgasm--well, I guess you need to keep going, no matter how sensitive you are.

Across the desk from her, Pofessor Allison Willows sits with her legs spread wide, unmoving, her skirt hiked up around her waist and a dark spot from her arousal spreading across her visible panties.

"You're going to tutor me," Shelly tells Professor Willows, "and if I earn--genuinely earn--at least a B on our next quiz, then I'll let you cum."

Professor Willow's eyes widen.

"Don't worry, though," Shelly reassures her. "I'm not entirely cruel. After every tutoring session, you'll get a full hour to play with yourself however you want. Rubbing, fucking, a good vibrator--whatever floats your boat."

The arousal spreads across Professor Willow's panties.

Well, I don't do the tasks.

But my real answer is broadly yes with a couple of rules:

I will only give tasks that fit in the Things I will write about section of my ask policy (which means that I won't give things like intox or exhibitionism).

I need at least a little of detail about what you're looking for. I can make things relatively body neutral, but I don't want to be guessing whether someone is looking for denial vs overstim etc. If you want something from me, you're going to have to ask in enough detail that I can give it to you.

A few other things:

Like with the rest of my asks, no guarantee of when (or if) I will respond.

If I ever give a task, I am trusting that you are doing it in a way that is safe for you. If that means changing something that I said to something that better fits your body/situation/needs, then do that.

I am nobody's Domme.

I realize this is a long answer to a short question, but directing a stranger to do something (or even suggesting) is a bit different from just writing little snippets.

It's a little at first, and then a little more, working her way up gradually so he doesn't notice until it's too late to do anything about it, until the drug that makes him suggestible is too built up in his sytem for him to resist.

And by that point she can sit across the table from him--even though, as his personally secretary, he directed her never to do something so familiar--and say, with a note of faux-sympathy in her voice, "Your cock is so hard, isn't it? Just so hard and aching that you need to have your hand around it to make it feel better."

He scrabbles with the fly on his increasingly tight pants, getting it down and shoving his underwear out of the way so he can wrap around his throbbing erection.

"Isn't that better?" she asks.

Damien nods.

"That's right," she says. "It's so much better that you always want to have your hand around your cock unless I tell you otherwise. But you're not going to move your hand or try to make yourself cum unless I tell you to, okay? Because if you try to cum all on your own, then you're going to need to let go, and it'll ruin your orgasm, and you won't like that at all. But if I tell you to cum then it will feel so good. Isn't that nice of me?"

Damien nods.

it's not a love match by any means, but she stil expected some measure of fidelity, to preserve her own dignity and respect within the community. That was apparently too much for Kailee, who spent the last two years fucking everything over eighteen that moved.

But Beth can't divorce her.

That doesn't mean she has to just lie there and take it.

She starts growing Kailee's tits first. They're well-used, and it takes very little magic to make them grow--a little a day, but it adds up fast. She puts another few cup sizes onto Kailee.

Then she stops and lets Kailee get complacent. Lets her think it's a fluke.

Kailee's walking goes next. It's not that Kailee can't walk, but when she's not actively doing something to benefit Beth she just finds it...easier to crawl.

Kailee's hands Beth makes clumsy, taking away dexterity until she needs help with even simple things like doing her makeup or writing.

Kailee's hardly leaving the house at this point, and some part of her must know what's going on, but Beth feigns at sympathy, helps her with just a little strategic condescension, and Kailee seems to buy her ignorance.

Beth starts Kailee's lactation just before leaving the house, so she can come back to Kailee as a sticky aching mess, too clumsy to change her clothes or even get all the milk out easily. Beth suggests a milking schedule and then has the milking make Kailee unbearably horny, but at this point her hands are too clumsy to rub herself to an orgasm.

Beth lets her hump a pillow sometimes, as a reward for good behavior.

"Aww, JJ, is someone getting a little sweepy?"

Jennifer wants to tell her roommate not to call her JJ and not to use that baby voice with her, but instead she yawns and her eyelids droop and she finds herself mumbling, "Uh huh."

"That's okay," Mira coos.

She presses her thumb to Jennifer's lips, and Jennifer finds herself suckling Mira's thumb, sloppily. Jennifer thinks maybe she should protest, but having something to suck on feels so good, and Jennifer--

"It's okay to be a sweepy little girl," Mira tells her in that same sing-song-y baby voice that makes everything go soft and gooey in Jennifer's head. "But first we need to check to see if you're all leaky. Are you all leaky, JJ?"

JJ thinks she should say she isn't leaky, but the words drop out of her head before they reach her mouth, so what she mumbles around thumb are barely words at all.

"Aww, it's okay if you don't know," Mira tells her. "We can check together."

With the hand not being drooled on by JJ's lax mouth, she directs one of JJ's hands under her waistband, under her panties, into the place where JJ is all hot and slippery.

JJ's eyelids flutter, almost too heavy to keep open.

She thought the sinner who is trying to corrupt her would take her panties from her, make her walk around baring herself to the world, making her flash herself to strangers like a slut.

She was optimistic at first, when the sinner lets her keep her panties. She begged for it, even, and thought it a victory when she won.

It takes her too long to realize that her panties are being used to hold the dildo in her cunt--she's not able to think of any other word for it, no matter how distasteful she finds the word cunt--and to keep a vibrator pressed against her clitoris.

Her proper, modest panties keep whatever the sinner puts between her legs in place even while Charity goes about her day--to her university classes, to Bible study, to church. They give just enough tension to press the dildo that extra half-inch into her cunt again and again as she sits, stands, even just squirms in her chair.

And the sinner inspects them every morning and every night, taunting Charity with how wet they are at the end of each day, her traitorous cunt leaking all over them.

Anything with that kind of thing would be awesome! Maybe some femdom ftm sub humiliation? (If you're feeling it, obv)

"Are you going to be a good boy for me?" Avamarie asks, and Chris's mind goes hazy and his boxers get soaked and he starts humping his chair without ever consciously deciding to do so.

Avamarie is his almost-stepsister--his mom and her dad have been will-they-won't-they since both of them were teenagers--and she mostly ignored him when he was still presenting as a girl, but since he came out and started transitioning, she's been--

"It doesn't look like you're trying very hard to be a good boy for me," she scolds, and he gets impossibly wetter and harder, hips working like he's trying to fuck the chair. He can barely think, his mind full of need and heat. "A good boy would make a mess all over himself, the sort of mess he would have to worry about hiding from Mommy and Daddy. In fact, that would be all a good boy could think about: how much of a mess he is, how much he needs to hide it, and how much he wants to cum."

Chris shoves three fingers in his mouth and starts to suck on them, lips stretched around them, drool spilling out the corners of his mouth. His mind is almost blank now, just desperation and humiliation at how his desperation is painted all over his body.

The rest of them are mocking or joking, but little one is straight-up patronizing, almost infantalizing, especially said in that sappy-sweet voice of Marina's, like the way a teacher talks to her young students.

And Marina mostly uses it when correcting her, too, or explaining things to her--how to make their overpriced coffee machine work, the intricacies of their apartment's recycling system--so it always comes when Marina is right and Bella is, at best, ignorant.

It's too humiliating to ask Marina to stop because that would mean admitting that it's bothering Bella, that it makes Bella blush and squirm with embarrassment, especially when other people are within earshot.

And then a couple of times Bella starts to drift off to sleep on their couch and Marina gets her up with an, "It's time for bed for you, little one.

And then one time Marina walks in on her masturbating and says, "That's enough of that, little one," and pins Bella's arms over her head and presses turns the vibrator on high and presses it between Bella's legs until she shudders and cums.

https://www.tumblr.com/rthornewrites/800870659301474304/hi-the-receptionist-chirps-perkily-everything

(Part 1)

After months of chasing down leads, Ashley has reached the point where the only way to find out what's happening at the Dream Day Spa is to actually book an appointment and see for herself.

There are a lot of rumors that she's having a hell of a time confirming, but very little that's concrete. Most people aren't interested in talking, and those who are, rarely are interested in talking more than once.

She's careful, when she goes. She doesn't accept a complementary water, doesn't eat anything, asks the overly perky receptionist not to turn on any sort of aromatherapy.

It's a little weird when the receptionist gives her what she calls a "pre-massage," but it's just rubbing some oil all over her skin before leaving her to wait for the masseuse.

And maybe Ashley drifts a little while she waits, but she tries to keep her focus by thinking about how she would describe the decor, the massage table, the tingle of her skin--

"I see we have our very own journalist who decided to join us," the masseuse says as she walks into the room. Ashley tries to be alarmed, but she's a little too warm and drowsy and tingling. "No, no, don't get up, you're already relaxing so well. I asked our lovely receptionist to leave the fun part to me, just to give me a chance to really show you the services we provide."

Ashley blinks, and the masseuse is leaning over her, smiling. Hands nudge Ashley's legs apart, and then oil is dripping down between her labia, onto her clit. Warm fingers massage the oil into her clit, then dip down to push it into her cunt.

"Normally," the masseuse tells her as she starts massaging oil into Ashley's breasts, pinching and tugging on her nipples, "we give our clients orgasms throughout the massage, to keep them relaxed. But you've been running around and bothering our clients, and that deserves to be punished. So all you will get during this massage is edge after edge, and in the end after stretching your cunt so wide it feels like you could fit anything in there, I will ruin your orgasm, and then another, and then another, until you understand the consequences of your actions."

When Ryan sucks on something, Masha rubs his t-dick. When he doesn't, she doesn't.

It's not always the same thing--a dildo, her fingers, his own fingers, one extremely humiliating time a pacifier she made him buy--but the only time he gets any sort of stimulation on his t-dick is when something is in his mouth for him to suck on.

He knows what he's being conditioned towards, but there's not much he can do about it, not if he wants any sort of pleasure between his legs, and he does.

Before long, all it takes for him to get erect is something sliding into his mouth for him to suck on--even a pen he starts to suck on absently during work, or his finger when he's biting at his cuticle.