Vathek

Smutty stories.

Short ones

Long ones

A feminist wouldn’t keep coming back to it.

A feminist wouldn’t get wet from it.

A feminist wouldn’t get off to being demeaned and degraded.

A feminist wouldn’t accept she doesn’t deserve to get off, and stop.

A feminist wouldn’t make a pathetic spectacle of herself for men just because.

A feminist wouldn’t feel her cunt throb when she obeyed men.

A feminist wouldn’t do anything to be called a good girl.

But you do.

And you can’t stop.

So what?

It doesn’t mean anything. The whole point of a kink and a fetish is that it’s exciting, right? That it’s fun and new and something different. Something out of your ordinary. Right? So why wouldn’t you indulge that? It feels good, it’s nice. It doesn’t mean anything. You’re not changing.

You’re not changing. 

It’s not really affecting you.

So what if you can’t even get off unless there’s a cock.

So what?

It’s not actually there. You’re just watching a girl get fucked, that’s all. Or watching her suck cock. Or suck cock and get fucked. Or imagining her. Imagining the sound she’d make and the look on her face as a big, fat cock slid into her. How her whole body would stiffen when he finished inside her. How his cum would look dribbling from her fucked cunt and the beautiful, dazed, cockdrunk expression she’d have. It doesn’t mean anything. You’re not changing.

You’re not changing.

It’s not really affecting you.

So what if you’re starting to get jealous of those girls.

So what?

It just looks like fun. It looks fun to be a slut for a man. To let him just use you. To be so, so full of him. To have his weight pinning you down as he lined himself up and slid in as you squirmed helplessly underneath him. It doesn’t mean anything if that gets you wet, it’s an exciting idea, it’s not your fault. So what if you like to imagine that you’re the one he’s cumming inside? You’re not changing.

You’re not changing.

It’s really affecting you.

So what if you only cum with a man’s permission now.

So what?

It adds something. You could easily do it if you wanted. It’s not as if he could stop you, right? So why does it matter that you only will if he says so? It’s just playing along. It’s just part of the experience. It’s just better to listen to him and to obey a man. It just feels more natural. More natural to the fun, that’s all. It was still your choice anyway, to give up choice, so really you’re still the one in charge, the one actually in control. You’re not changing.

You’re changing.

It’s really affecting you.

So what if he owns you now.

So what?

It was just the natural next step. You already needed his permission to cum, and then to touch, so just admitting that he owned your cunt wasn’t really going much further anyway. And if you've already done that, why not say he just owns all of you? Easier. Besides, he’s a man, he can look after your cunt better than a dumb, ditzy girl like you. That’s just common-sense. You need his control otherwise you’d just spend all day rubbing yourself to cocks and watching other girls getting fucked - he said so, and you know he’s right. He’s so good for you, you’re so glad he’s helping you. He said you’re better now. You do feel better, so obviously he’s right. He said you're changing. You’re changing.

You’re changing.

It’s really affecting you.

But you still come back

You can say that you’re a feminist

But you still get wet when you’re called a good girl

You can say you have principles

But you still do whatever a man says when you’re horny

You can say it’s just for fun

But you still feel awful whenever you break a rule

You can say this doesn’t mean anything

But you still get distracted by your cunt throbbing

You can say that nothing’s changed

But you still need to ask to cum

You can say you can stop anytime

But you can’t

SNAP

She yelps

Jolts

Back arches

She strains but goes nowhere

How many times is that now?

Can’t remember

Can’t remember anything

Can’t think

Good girls don’t think

There’s just the need

The constant need

Drowns everything

The need and him

He’s the one doing this to her

He says she’s been allowed to get into bad habits

Says that good girls don’t cum

He says that it’s not good for her

Says it’ll make her a bad girl if she carries on

But he says that it’s okay

He can fix her

He can cure her

He says all of his as his fingers work inside her

And so he can tell when she’s getting closer

Closer closer closer

SNAP

Straining more

Gurgling

She’s babbling pleading

Not really saying anything

Can’t think enough to say anything

Good girls don’t think

He says she’s doing so well, but they can’t stop

She isn’t cured yet

This is just the start

He says she’ll learn

Says it’ll just be normal

She’s forget her bad habits

Forget how to cum

Forget she ever did

Closer closer closer

SNAP

Good girls don’t cum

She isn’t meant to

It isn’t good for her

He’s helping her

He’s curing her

She needs this

She needs to be desperate always

She needs to be dumb and distracted

She needs to be docile

She’s babbling and pleading again

And he knows she’s begging him not to stop

Not until she’s fixed

Not until he’s sure she’ll never cum again

Until she won’t need his help

Until one day she’ll get

Closer closer closer

And there won’t need to be a 

SNAP

Arch groan gurgle whimper

She wants to get there

For him

Wants to be the best

For him

To be cured and fixed

Slurping, head bobbing, she eagerly swallowed it all and then went to work cleaning his cock, just like how she knew she was supposed to: licks and slurps and happy little mumblings. And it was while she was doing this that something caught her attention.

Her owner was watching television. He often did this with her by his feet. It was how he liked to relax, he said. Sometimes she just knelt, awaiting a command, and sometimes she was obeying a command. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t her choice. This time obviously she was obeying a command, and it was thanks to her position between his legs that she could just about see the screen, off to the side.

Normally none of what she saw there made much sense to her and normally it didn’t matter because it wasn’t for her, but something about this caught her attention, which confused her a little bit. It was confusing because she didn’t know why it would have caught her attention. Just something from the corner of her eye had made her look. Then it happened again and, since she was watching properly (mostly properly) she saw why: there was a girl on the screen she recognised. 

Or thought she recognised, at least. Something about her was familiar.

Whatever was on the screen was showing clips of this girl, in a costume, flying around a bit, or standing and looking strong and confident. It looked very strange to her, and it didn’t help her understand what about the girl was nagging so much at her.

The chyron running beneath it all read:

“Whatever happened to Justice Girl?”

“Master, do I know her? She feels like… someone…” she said, brow furrowed. Thinking was hard, and remembering was basically like thinking - her owner did both of those for her, which was why she was asking him. She hoped he would make the thinking stop. Her head was starting to throb.

“No,” he said, idly, tapping her on the head to keep her going. She managed one lick before the screen (and the throbbing in her head) distracted her. Such a ditz.

“But she seems familiar…”

Reaching down, her owner put a finger on her chin and tipped her head so she was looking up at him and not at the screen. She didn’t resist. She couldn’t. The moment his eyes met hers the whole world shrank down. There was nothing else. Only him.

“You don’t know her.”

His words filled her head. The throbbing stopped. It was the truth.

“I don’t know her,” she said, dreamily, dumb smile on her face. It was so much easier knowing what she was supposed to think, and so obvious now. Of course she didn’t know her. Master said, and so she didn’t.

“You were always my toy.”

“I was always your toy…”

“You were always my pet.”

“I was always your pet…”

“You were never anything else.”

“I was never anything else…”

Putting a hand on top of her head, he turned it so she was facing the television again. She stared, eyes empty, her face blank, a big dumb smile spread across it. She saw the girl on the screen, the girl who was totally and utterly identical to her, and she felt nothing. Just a stranger.

“Do you know her?” He asked.

“I don’t know her,” she sighed happily. It was the truth.

Her owner smiled and sat back again. It was a lot easier doing that, now.

“Good girl. You can touch yourself.”

Squealing with glee and babbling thanks she very quickly shuffled back on the floor so he would have a better view, spread her legs, and started doing just that, panting and moaning and being totally open and on display for him the way she’d been trained to be, the only way she could even think of being.

Thanks, UK government. I feel safer already.

Think of the children.

'But' you might think, and there's the problem.

And so let's help.

'But' is your brain saying you know better.

And you don't.

'But' is you doubting your owner or superior.

And you shouldn't.

'But' is a girl who wants to choose for herself.

And that's not you.

It's not a word that helps you. It gets in the way. It stops you from being the best pet, the best toy. It stops you from being as useful as you could be. It keeps you from being what he wants you to be.

And you don't want that.

And I know it'll be difficult. Getting out of bad habits and into good ones always is. I know you can do it though. I know you want to do it. I know you'll try your hardest, and I know that eventually you'll forget you ever even had. It'll just be normal, just how you are.

And you won't remember being any other way.

So the next time you feel a 'but' bubbling up through the fun pink fluff in your head, you push it back down. Keep it inside. Wiggle. Giggle. Nod. Bounce. Anything that'll keep you distracted from thinking too hard. Squeeze your thighs together. Ask them to repeat the question because you're such a dummy. Blink and cock your head.

Good girl.

You probably can't even really remember what word we were talking about. You'd have to concentrate. See how easy it is?

I know you can do it.

He slid inside. Slowly.

Another sound escaped her, another happy sigh - longer, slightly louder. She dug her head deeper into the pillow as more of him disappeared into her, a smile spreading across her face as the last of him fit into place.

Fit perfectly into place, as always.

He took a moment to just enjoy it. Everything was quiet, still. The rise and fall of her breathing. The wetness of her around him. His turn to sigh happily.

As he pulled back she mumbled something. Not words, more a sound of dismay, and she tried to follow. The hand on her leg and the other on her back stopped her moving too much, and let him start to build a rhythm. Not enough to disturb her. The sounds of dismay quickly stopped, and happier sounds resumed. Squeaks. Muffled moans.

He didn't hold back. Near the end he let his need take over and went faster, regardless of disturbing her or not. With a grunt he buried himself into her again and emptied out, filling her up. She stiffened, she made a louder sound, then she pushed back into him.

Giving her a kiss on the back of the neck he snuggled in closer, arms going about her, her cunt clenching as his cock twitched. A drip of both of them ran down the inside of her leg, adding to the damp patch she'd made all on her own. All went quiet and still again.

When your mind keeps wandering off

Must be hard to focus

When you can feel that wet spot getting bigger

Must be hard not to wonder if anyone can notice

I mean, it must be obvious, mustn’t it? How needy you are?

It’s written all over your face. Isn’t it?

Must be hard not to keep your eyes down

Poor girl

Must be hard

Not to imagine how they’d look at you if they know

When they know

Must be hard to keep your legs from spreading

As you think about what they could do with you

Would do with you

To you

Must be hard not to let a tiny little moan just slip out at the thought

The thought of being so useful to so many men

The thought of not having to hide it anymore

The thought of everyone finally knowing what you really are

Must be hard to keep pretending

Must be hard

And it's adorable. She's watching me talk to this other man, and I can see on her face and in her eyes that she has no idea what we're talking about.

I know she understands it when I speak because she responds, but I always make sure to talk slowly and clearly and in small words I am sure she'll understand. The conversation I'm having now? None of it's going in, none of it would, so she's just switched off. Smiling happily up at me, a million miles away.

Adorable.

There used to be times that sort of expression took effort to tease out. Talking her down from being smart, working her into it. It got easier and easier, and now?

Now there she is. Defaulting to dumb.

Such a good girl.

I pat her head and feel her nuzzle into my palm.

At first he'd just thought she was settling onto the sofa. Then that she just couldn't get comfortable. Now though, minutes on and with her still squirming around he really was at the limit of his patience.

"What are you doing?" He asked, frowning over at her. To his surprise, he found her blushing and looking profoundly uncomfortable. She wasn't even looking at him, eyes forward but still not sitting still.

"Hmm?" She asked, unconvincingly.

"What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing, nothing," she said, also unconvincingly, and still squirming.

It was almost as if...

"Do you need the toilet?" He asked, amazed he was even saying it to her. An adult. But why else did someone move like that?

She went redder.

"M-maybe..." she mumbled.

He stared. He blinked. He asked the obvious question:

"Why don't you just go?"

More wriggling, legs clamped together. She didn't answer.

Slowly, the answer pieced itself together in his head without her help.

A smile spread across his face.

"You want me to let you, don't you?"

"I don't - it's just - I don't know!"

"Well why else are you sitting there?"

"I don't know!"

She did know, she just didn't want to say. They both knew this.

"You want me to say you're allowed," he said. She was sitting on her hands now.

"Maybe! Yes! I don't know!"

"Aww, poor girl. This is another control thing, right?" He asked and she gave a tiny nod. He thought it through. Made sense. "But for this? Oh, that's a little embarrassing, isn't it? But not as embarrassing as it's going to be in a moment..."

That finally got her to look at him.

"W-what?!"

"Well I haven't said yes, have I? And I don't think I will. I think Princess can hold it."

"That's not fair!"

"You haven't actually asked, you've just been squirming helplessly and hoping I'd pick up on the hints. And be a mind-reader, I guess. Feel like asking?"

A moment of hesitation as she weighed up how humiliating asking would be against how humiliating the consequences of not asking would be. Asking won. Just.

"Please please please can I go?" She blurted. He made a show of thinking about it, stroking his chin as she stared helplessly at him.

"No. Princess can hold it."

"What?!"

"Or Princess can learn she shouldn't just assume I know why she's wriggling about all over the place."

"That's not fair! Please!"

"It's perfectly fair, according to you, girl who decided she wanted me to be the one in charge of this. So no, not allowed. Hold it. Or don't. I think it might be 'can't' pretty soon, looking at you."

"Please please I don't I can't I..."

"Off the sofa," he said. A practical concern really, though that she immediately slid onto her knees did a lot for him. She didn't even notice how well-trained she was, didn't so much as cross her mind.

"Please..." she said again, almost under her breath now, like a tiny little prayer she was muttering to herself. "Please please please please..."

She trailed off. What had started as borderline panic abruptly stopped. She went very, very quiet and, somehow, even more red. She didn't need to say why. He knew why. They both did.

Leaning back a little for a better view of her she tutted.

"You know, with puppies I hear they push their face into it. I don't think I need to do that with you. I think you know what you did. Don't you?"

"Yes..."

He spread his legs and she wordlessly, obediently shuffled between them, face down, burning. "I'll help you take your mind off of it. Then you can clean yourself up. Sound good? Nod."

She nodded. He patted her on the head.

"Good girl. Do I need to tell you what to do here, too?"