Walter

Making you wear a remote-controlled vibrator under your clothes during dinner with friends. I control it the entire time. Every time you try to keep a straight face, I turn it up just enough to make your thighs shake under the table. You don’t get to come. You only get to suffer pretty for me.

Keeping you on a short leash at home. Literally. Collar, chain, the whole thing. You crawl when I tell you to, you kneel when I snap my fingers, and you eat from my hand when I feel like feeding you. The moment you forget your place, I remind you with two fingers down your throat until you’re gagging and dripping.

Pinning your wrists above your head and fucking into you slow and deep while you cry and shake. Whispering against your ear the entire time: “Shhh… I know it hurts. I know you’re scared. That’s why it feels so good. You’re not broken yet, baby. Not even close. Keep taking it.”