Vathek

Smutty stories.

Short ones

Long ones

Luckily though, her roommate had lent her his fan! Nice of him. He was nice.

The fan was maybe a little old and beaten up, but that was fine, It was certainly a lot better than nothing, and she definitely appreciated it. It didn’t make her cooler, really, but it made her less warm, which made all the difference to her right at that moment. She sprawled, she sweated slightly, she stared into space, she let the air be shoved over her.

And then she let her stare move from space towards the fan, just because.

It was, as said, a little old. How old she couldn’t say but her roommate had clearly had it for some time given how rough the thing was looking - and sounding. Fans often had a constant, soporific drone, but something about this one was particularly…

… she couldn’t quite describe it. ‘Relaxing’ felt too strong for just a fan, but it was certainly not unpleasant to listen to.

Looking at it, she was also starting to appreciate how beaten up the thing was. The blades, specifically. She hadn’t noticed before she’d turned it on, but now it was spinning it was more obvious. The blades were scuffed and scratched and this didn’t mean it worked any worse, of course, but it did mean that now they were spinning all of them were sort of smearing and spinning and blurring together and…

… and…

She was staring. Listening to the fan. Buzzing humming. What had she been thinking about?

Her roommate was so nice…

Oh yeah, the fan. The blades. The marks on them. The weird nice smeary shape they made when the blades spun. Because it was a shape, or at least something that looked like a shape. Lines? Something. Something moving to the middle. She couldn’t quite describe it no matter how much she stared and she really was staring and staring, listening to the nice humming buzzing sound, her roommate was so nice, so caring, her roommate looked after her…

What had she been thinking about? 

It was so hot. Even with the fan it was too hot. She needed to take her clothes off. Yes. It was too hot to be wearing anything, yes. Naked. She quickly stripped down, doing the best she could not to look away from the fan as she did so - what was that shape? She could have sworn it looked like something. If she stared at a little longer she could work it out…

Yes. Naked was better. She felt better. This was good. She felt good. Staring, listening. Focus. Her roommate was so nice. He looked after her. He made her feel safe. It was good to listen to him. She should listen to him more. Like how she was listening to the fan humming buzzing nice and safe keep staring. It was okay her legs were spreading. Just too hot, that’s all.

Spinning shapes like a spiral, she realises. Around and around spinning spinning. Pulls to the middle. Kept pulling her eyes to the middle. Could look away if she wanted. Easy. Just didn’t want to, that was all. Didn’t need to. Wanted to keep staring. Eyes in the middle. Safe. Her roommate kept her safe. Focus. Listening. Needed to listen to him more. Good girls listen. Humming buzzing listen focus stare.

She was thinking about something, only not really because she couldn’t really think. Too hot for thinking. Buzzy hummy spinning focus. Just an idea in her head. A sense. A need. A want. 

What was it…

She wanted to touch herself. Yes. That’s why her hand was between her legs. She wanted to. That was what was in her head. Touch herself. Listen focus stare touch play switch off. That’s what she wanted to do. Her idea. She wanted to.

So she did.

The sun had long set by the time her roommate came in to see how she was doing. It was too dark for her to keep staring at the fan but she hadn’t moved anyway. She could play, she could listen, she wanted to play, she wanted to listen. That was how he found her. Slumped, legs spread, lazily rubbing, drooling. When he turned the fan off she whined.

The sudden silence was a void. None of her thoughts rushed in to fill it, because they’d all gone quiet and disappeared. She didn’t know what to do, what to think. She felt scared.

Then she heard him. His voice. His voice filled the void, swallowed the silence, made her safe. His voice was her thoughts and there wasn’t anything to worry about. He said to keep playing, and so she did. He said she was his now, and so she was. He said she wanted to suck his cock, and so when she felt the head of it pass between her lips she groaned and did just that. 

He was so nice. He looked after her. He kept her safe. He owned her.

The real world is trying to stop you playing with yourself!

It's so unfair

You don't want to stop yet

But it's okay, you don't have to stop yet

Just another five minutes

You won't be late!

Just another half an hour

No-one will notice you're late!

Just another hour

Your friends can start without you!

Just another two hours

You didn't really want to go anyway!

Just another three hours

You might as well keep going now!

Just another

um, what's after three... more?

Just another more hours

Not like you had anything important to do!

Just until sleepytime

Bed is too nice to leave and there's still porn to watch!

Just from the second you wake up

Why waste time not playing with yourself?

Just don't stop

Eyes glazed, staring at nothing. Dumb smile on her face, streak of drool running down her chin. Panting, shallow breaths. Little wet spot between her spread legs, thighs glistening. A giggle every so often. She was gone.

For fun, he reached across and mimed plucking something from her head. She didn’t immediately notice, but after a delay of a second or so there came another giggle. Silly owner.

“I took all your brains,” he said, holding up his fingers pinched together, as though he was dangling something. He wasn’t, obviously, but she still struggled to bring her eyes to focus on it anyway, woozy, confused. She stared intently at the nothing a moment and then giggled yet again, blinking slowly.

“‘Don ‘wan brainsss….” she slurred, the closest she’d managed to actually speaking in a long while now. He considered this, nodding to himself.

“Alright. So I should just throw these away?” He asked, motioning to do that. She’d started groping her tits again, eyes fluttering shut, and if it hadn’t been him speaking she probably wouldn’t have listened at all.

“Brainss bad… no brains…” she mumbled, head lolling.

She was so gone.

“Alright,” he said again, getting an idea. “Maybe best to keep them for now, case I need them. Maybe your friends start asking questions again or something, you know? But where to keep them, hmm…”

With her eyes closed she didn’t notice him getting closer.

“Somewhere safe, somewhere we probably won’t lose them… ah, I know…”

She gasped as his fingers slid into her, so, so easily. Her whole body juddered, head falling forward, eyes still closed. She was so gone.

“This seems like a good place, hmm? Nice and safe here. I think your brains fit much better here than they ever did in your head. Isn’t that right?”

The sound his fingers made between her legs were obscene.

“Nnnhhhh ah riiggghttt…”

“So I think your brains can just stay tucked away here, nice and safe in your cunt. You do most of your thinking down here anyway, when I’m not telling you what you should be thinking, so this is for the best. Yes?”

“Besssst yesss…”

“My little dummy just thinks with her cunt. Can you say that for me?”

“N’little dummy s’thinks cuntss…” she slurred. He smiled, pulling his fingers out and not even waiting until she’d finished halfway-mumbling the words before feeding them, slick, into her mouth. She sucked automatically, moaning like how she’d been trained to, and how she thought she always had.

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.