horny trans blog

but could you use the name Alisha in one of your stories? it would be so hot to see my name

thank you either way!!!

Gunjana uses the trigger mid-sentence, while in the middle of painting Alisha's nails.

One hand already has the first coat of paint on it, a deep blood red on every nail, and she has Alisha's other hand cupped in hers while she paints with sure, clean strokes.

"No squirming, sweetheart," Gunjana chides as Alisha does just that, her clit starting to swell and throb. "You wouldn't want to mess up your nails, would you?"

The need will get worse, she knows--her panties soaking through and her clit getting more and more sensitive and needy until she manages to get herself off.

Her hand tries to twitch away, down between her legs, and Gunjana gives it a warning squeeze. "I--"

"You asked me to do your nails," Gunjana says, examining the polish on Alisha's pinkie critically, "so I don't know why you're in such a hurry to ruin it all."

"Gunjana," Alisha whines, trying not to squirm again just to find even a little bit of friction or pressure. "You know--I--"

"I know...what?" Gunjana asks. She picks up Alisha's other hand to start with the second coat. It's so hard not to just shove her hand between her legs and rub, but her nail polish is so wet, and she can't. "I know you're a needy little slut who can't even wait to let her nail polish dry before getting herself off? I know you're ready to start humping that chair in the hopes that it will give that clit of yours something to rub against? What do I know, sunshine?"

One of those words was her trigger--if Alisha ever knew what it was, she's not allowed to remember it--and the need redoubles, pounding through her until she's ready to cry with it. Her hand twitches in Gunjana's, and the brush skitters across her skin.

Gunjana tsks. "What a mess you made me make. I'm going to have to punish you for that."

"Gunjana," Alisha sobs. Her hips are working now, without her permission, rocking on the chair.

"Be a good girl and sit still," Gunjana orders. "I need to clean up your mess, and I hardly want you to make another one."

Alisha tries. She tries.

But there will be a lot of punishments for her when her nails are dry.

It is a simple belt, all things considered. No plugs or vibrators, just rubber-edged metal so there's no give and no places with a slut to sneak fingers in where not allowed.

But inside of it, the Headmistress packs the area around the clit with gauze or cotton soaked in an arousal liquid, positioned in such a way that nothing at all can change the pressure around the clit or give it any friction, but the liquid continues to slowly seep in over the hours, leaving the slut constantly aroused with no way for even the slightest bit of relief.

Somestimes she makes the slut hump something or rub against the belt, just to remind them that nothing they do will help. And sometimes she makes them sit very still and punishes them for every time they squirm, to teach them control.

"Are you being a good boy for me?"

Jacob rolls his eyes at Emil, gesturing at the array of things surrounding him on the couch. "Yes, sir," he says, a little sarcastically. "I drank my water and everything. I broke my pinkie, not my leg. I don't need a nanny."

"Just making sure you're not overstraining yourself," Emil says. He settles down on Jacob's lap, his hot cunt surrounding Jacob's cock. Jacob fucks up into him a couple of times before he can stop himself, even knowing there's no way he can cum, but he settles when Emil puts a hand on his chest.

Bracing himself with that hand, Emil starts to ride his cock, groaning when Jacob reaches down with his uninjured hand to add more friction to Emil's hard cock.

"Fuck," Emil breathes, "you feel so good. You always feel so good."

Pleasure fills Jacob's chest at that, at the knowledge that he can always serve Emil like this, being a cock for him to use whenever he wants, riding or sucking or doing whatever he wants with it without ever having to worry about Jacob getting soft and not being ready.

"Thank you, sir," Jacob says, and this time he means the word.

"My good boy," Emil says, leaning forward to bite at Jacob's pec. Jacon feels it as Emil cums around him, hot and wet around his still-hard cock like the best reward.

He holds steady as Emil shudders to stillness, Emil breathing hard against Jacob's chest as he gets himself back together.

Finally, unfortunately, Emil slides back up off of Jacob's erection, which is leaking precum the way it always does when Emil rides him like that. It'll subside, but his cock has taken longer than his brain to get with the idea that this is how it is now.

Quentin's cock is just barely small enough to fit behind the chastity belt.

A bit more time on T and it might not be, or the surgery he's still considering and it definitely won't be, but right now it still fits in a way that hits just the perfect spot in his brain between the aching knowledge that he can't get off no matter how much he wants to and the humiliation that his cock is still small enough that it can be hidden away just like that.

When his Domme is feeling particularly mean, she strokes her own much larger cock while asking if he's missing his pretty little cock, locked away like that, and he feels himself drip and throb with need.

The worst is that T has pumped his libido up so much more than it ever was before, and sometimes it feels like it's all he can do not to shove his hands down his pants and rub himself off the way he imagines teenage boys did, all those jokes about tissues and crusty socks making so much more sense now.

The chastity isn't some pretend at keeping him from doing that, though. There's no pretense that it's to make sure he's good, to keep him behaving.

It's his Domme saying that she owns him, and she owns his orgasms, and she owns his cock, and she can lock it all away behind that little bit of metal, and there's nothing he can do about it.

The rule is simple: he has to wear the vibrator, running, until all the chores on the list are done.

It's not that hard, at first: the vibrator is running on the lowest speed, and it's tucked away against his t-cock so its not like it's getting in the way.

But then he doesn't finish all of the chores that first day.

And so the batteries are replaced, again, and he goes to bed with the vibrator still running, and wakes up with a cock that's swollen and oversensitive and throbbing from the vibrator that is still just merrily running along.

And then it's just--

It's so hard to concentrate on his chores when all he can think about is the pleasure-pain ache of his cock and the way his boxers are soaked through and the way his hole keeps trying to clench around nothing because he never really enjoys orgasms unless there's something inside of him and right now he's empty.

The second night is so much worse, and the third morning worse still, and it's just so much, not even pleasure anymore so much as just sensation, like the fuzziness of an old TV or an entire swarm of bees, his cock throbbing and aching and so swollen he feels like he could fuck someone with it if the thought of anything else touching him didn't make him want to sob.

He almost can't tell when the vibrator finally turns off, all of his chores done, because it's like the sensation is still going, like it's under his skin now.