Not All Men Are Gentle…🐺

Squirming. All tied up. Helpless.

The whole day had been torture already. Denied, because she’d broken a rule, the need had only grown, and when he’d come back it had very nearly overtaken her. And so he’d tied her up. Punishments were a lesson, after all, and he felt she still had to learn.

The touches had been light, teasing. This had been on purpose, obviously.

He’d wanted the begging, the pleading. The desperation as his fingers trailed along her skin and got close but never quite close enough. The bargaining where she said she’d do anything if he’d only just touch her properly.

And he could let his hand rest on her thigh, so close, and say simply that she would always do anything for him anyway, and she didn’t have anything she could offer him right then. Her being like this was the point, he’d say, and he’d move his hand away again. And of course she’d beg more and plead more because she couldn’t think of anything else right then.

The words quickly started coming apart when he finally touched the parts she’d wanted him to, but not in any way that helped. Brushing over a nipple, trailing just the tip of his finger up between the heated, swollen lips of her cunt. So much worse. Her pleading just turned to gibberish even as it was leaving her mouth

And the words didn’t come back. She moaned and whimpered and babbled and wriggled and squirmed but, little by little, these all tailed off. Eventually she was just quietly drooling, quietly groaning, totally spent. Teased totally incoherent. Anything approaching a thought all dribbled away completely.

He smiled. He could do anything to her now, obviously, but he could have done anything to her at any time. She was his, that was how it worked. This was a lesson.

One it looked to him as though she’d learned.

Rising, her gave her an affectionate (and ever-so-slightly possessive) pat on the cunt and left her where he’d tied her. She wasn’t going anywhere, and it would take a while for her to come back again. Once she had - or at least, enough of her had - he could maybe run her through it again.

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.

instead of baptising my darkness, you drown me in it and call it holy. instead of cleansing my sins, you carve them deeper into me until i wear them with pride. instead of deliverance, you devour me and i thank you for it.

you destroy me as tenderly as you save me and i am grateful for every wound. break me with your love or cradle me with your cruelty—i am yours either way. your hands are both blade and balm, and i offer myself to both. where He gave me nothing, you give me everything: pain, pleasure, proof.

i am your sacrificial lamb, willing under the shadow of your blade. i am your offering, laid bare and bleeding on your altar.i am your harlot-saint, crowned in thorns and ash. i am your devotee, yours to burn or bless. i am the flesh you feast upon, my body your bread.

I know (apologetically)

I know (condescendingly)

It's supposed to

Good

I'm sorry

It'll be over soon

Stop whining

And it'll get worse if you don't *insert threat*

Well it wouldn't have to if you didn't *insert mistake*

You're supposed to say 'thank you'

I love hearing you say that

This is nothing, I'll show you actual pain

Get used to it

You'll get used to it

Stop lying

At least you still feel it

Shut up

Why don't you beg me to stop, then?

Can't be that bad if you're still talking

I don't care

Did I ask?

It's the only way you'll learn

"Did you notice you were on your knees now, Martha?"

…huh?

"You dropped to your knees. The moment I pulled my cock out, your eyes glazed over and your jaw went slack, and a couple seconds later you sank to the floor like you forgot how to stand. Did you even notice any of that?"

…uh, yeah, uh huh, sure.

"Heh. You're not really listening to me at all anymore, are you? You're just staring at my cock and picturing it sliding in and out of that pretty mouth of yours. You're aching for it, aren't you, sweetie?"

…uhm, yeah, that sounds great, I… uhm… can I touch your dick?

"Of course you can, honey. You can do anything you want with it, all you need to do is ask. The important part is that you agree with everything I'm telling you. Because my words are sinking straight down into your dicknotized brain and changing you forever, aren't they?"

…yeah, fine, whatever. Uhm, whatever sounds good to you, I mean. I--I just, uhm--ohhh god. Whuh, why does it feel so good?

"It feels so good because you've been primed to surrender to it, because all those 'subliminal learning tapes' you've been listening to for the past three months haven't been about management techniques at all. They've been teaching you to submit to my cock, and when you made that little Freudian slip of yours a few minutes ago it was a sign from your deep self that you were finally ready to accept your programming. Showing you my dick was just the last step in the process. Doesn't that make you so happy, Martha? Aren't you just so excited to give in and be my slave?"

…um, yeah, slave, that sounds… um… I was just thinking, uhm… can I maybe, uhh, suck your dick a little? Just until you cum in my mouth, I mean.

"I thought you'd never ask. Open up, sweetie, I've got so much more to tell you while you suck…."

"See? You can be trained," Bryce chuckled, holding the leash taut for support so he could fuck Kellie's hungry pussy with even more forceful abandon. It was enough to make Kellie blush and whimper, her defeated mind sputtering with a desperate insistence that she wasn't truly subjugated to her study partner's will like some kind of fawning pet… but it was hard to argue with the warm, contented glow suffusing her brain every time she noticed the collar around her neck again. And with Bryce's hand pulling on the leash, that was an almost continual rediscovery for the hypnotized young woman.

It might have gone better if he wasn't fucking her right now, but even that felt like an argument that cut both ways--yes, Kellie's mind turned to mush every time Bryce stuck his cock inside her wet pussy, but at the same time it was hard to claim her independence when all he needed to do was show Kellie his dick and her elbows immediately hooked around her knees to pull her legs as far apart as they could go to give him full access to her unprotected cunt. She'd lost her ability to resist the allure of sex probably at least two weeks ago, the temptation to offer up her body pretty much overwhelming once he'd trained her out of the habit of wearing clothes during their quote-unquote 'study sessions'.

Even that, though, came back to the collar, and all of Kellie's rationalizations for her weakness collapsed when she realized yet again what that small and simple pleasure did to her. It started out so seemingly harmless--just a little class project on hypnosis and operant conditioning, not even something that could embarrass her when Bryce assured her they'd redact the name of the subject for the paper they turned in, but once it started to work Bryce quickly learned how much leverage it gave him over the shy, squirming brunette. Just the promise of the collar, and that addictive feeling of contentment it brought every time he let her wear it, became a carrot he could hold out whenever he wanted to modify her behavior… and Kellie found out the hard way just how flimsy her boundaries were when it came to certain things.

Because it… fuck, this was her own mind, she wasn't ceding anything by admitting the truth to her own self… it really did feel good to be Bryce's sex slave. Not that she would have called herself that openly, not that she intended to give him the satisfaction of using his term for her even as he taunted and teased her with it, but Kellie could recognize the shift in their dynamic and where it was leading and she knew she was becoming more submissive to her fellow student almost on a minute-by-minute basis. She craved the collar, she loved it every time he tugged on her leash to remind her of its presence around her throat, and he was using it as the reward treat to get her to accept a whole host of other overtly submissive sexual behaviors. And there wasn't a one of them she could say she truly objected to.

Even when he came inside her, grunting and straining and leaving a torrent of semen to drip out of her sloppy cunt, Kellie could only feel a sense of warm, drifting pleasure in the back of her head. She already knew that she'd stop taking her birth control the second Bryce told her to, because the collar was always there and its hold on her was only becoming stronger, but she also had to admit that the thought of risky sex with a man she was increasingly thinking of as her Master was hot as fuck. And Kellie truly didn't know anymore where Bryce's training ended and her own submissive desires began.

“What did you do… to me…”

“Nothing much. Just a little trick. I heard about it somewhere.”

“I can’t… what?”

“I did wonder whether it’d work on you. I sort of thought you’d be too smart for it to work. Maybe I was wrong about you? Maybe. Who cares? What matters is that it did work. Feeling a little heated, Poppy?”

“Y-yes.”

“Of course you are, that’s only natural. It’s only natural for poor, hormone-addled little girls to get flustered with a bit of male attention. It’s giving you butterflies, isn’t it Poppy?”

“Yes.”

“Right in your tummy, right here, isn’t it?”

“Y-yes.”

But we're long past that.

Now, I'm buried balls deep, feeling your pussy clench around my cock, your legs locked around my waist, holding me in. Your "no's" have turned into a game for us. Words you're supposed to say while your body tells me the truth. No means faster. No means deeper. No means grip your throat tighter until your lies turn to moans.

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