Welcome to My Den. This space is Decidedly 18+ and NSFW. You may call Me "Mr. Wolf", or "Sir" if you feel so inclined. He/Him/Sir - 32 - Sadistic Fuck. Hard and Soft kinks. Constant TW. This blog is a place for all things Me, where I may express Myself and My desires, which are wide and varied. Feel free to speak, Ask Me things, Present Me with naughty pictures, etc. Need advice? Asks and DMs are open. Indulge me.
The whole day had been torture already. Denied, because sheâd broken a rule, the need had only grown, and when heâd come back it had very nearly overtaken her. And so heâd 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.
Heâd 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 sheâd do anything if heâd 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 didnât have anything she could offer him right then. Her being like this was the point, heâd say, and heâd move his hand away again. And of course sheâd beg more and plead more because she couldnât think of anything else right then.
The words quickly started coming apart when he finally touched the parts sheâd 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 didnât 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 sheâd learned.
Rising, her gave her an affectionate (and ever-so-slightly possessive) pat on the cunt and left her where heâd tied her. She wasnât 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.
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The girl in the collar hummed happily as her owner came down her throat. That meant sheâd been useful, been good, and that made her even happier then she had been before, and thanks to him she was almost always happy now.Â
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 didnât matter, it wasnât 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 didnât matter because it wasnât for her, but something about this caught her attention, which confused her a little bit. It was confusing because she didnât 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.Â
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 didnât help her understand what about the girl was nagging so much at her.
The chyron running beneath it all read:
âWhatever happened to Justice Girl?â
âMaster, do I know her? She feels like⊠someoneâŠâ 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.
âNo,â 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.
âBut she seems familiarâŠâ
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 didnât resist. She couldnât. The moment his eyes met hers the whole world shrank down. There was nothing else. Only him.
âYou donât know her.â
His words filled her head. The throbbing stopped. It was the truth.
âI donât know her,â 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 didnât know her. Master said, and so she didnât.
âYou were always my toy.â
âI was always your toyâŠâ
âYou were always my pet.â
âI was always your petâŠâ
âYou were never anything else.â
âI was never anything elseâŠâ
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.
âDo you know her?â He asked.
âI donât know her,â she sighed happily. It was the truth.
Her owner smiled and sat back again. It was a lot easier doing that, now.
âGood girl. You can touch yourself.â
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 sheâd been trained to be, the only way she could even think of being.
On the screen, the news moved onto something else.
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my therapist holding me down and rutting into me like "see? i told you you'd be soaked. it's a trauma response, completely natural. go ahead and let it all out. that's it, good job. crying is natural too. you should be proud of yourself for making so much progress."
"next time we will work on orgasms as a form of externalization. you need to let go of the idea that it was wrong to cum when he forced you, but first we need to put your mind back into that same fear-arousal state. of course it's normal to be scared! we will work through all of those big feelings together. do you trust me? great. it will be a long session so come prepared with some water." fuck im so wet
"i know it's hard but it's important to recreate the experience to the fullest extent possible. now, try to remember. what did he say? how did he touch you? like this? excellent. i know it's awkward right now but by the time we've finished all the repetitions necessary to desensitize you and condition a positive response, you'll feel so much better. you're doing great so far. tell me, did he cum inside you too?"
my lucifer, i collapse at your profane altar, bleeding my body and soul into your hands.
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 crueltyâi 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.
Why yes, I am scrolling through your blog and fantasizing about breaking into your home at night, finding you in your bedroom, and forcing myself on you with a knife to your throat
"Did you notice you were on your knees now, Martha?"
âŠhuh?
"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?"
âŠuh, 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?"
âŠuhm, 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?"
âŠyeah, 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?"
âŠum, 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 suckâŠ."
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"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.
(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)
thighjob where weâre snuggling real close in bed and your cock is sliding back and forth but itâs passing over my clit each time and iâm digging my nails into you and hiding my face in your chest and one of your hands is on my ass pulling me forward and back in perfect rhythm with you like a stupid little whining sex toy made to get you off and you warn me between low groans not to wiggle my hips otherwise itâll end up inside me and iâm fucking whining that itâs not fair and youâre saying i know baby i know baby but doesnât it feel so good and iâm nodding reluctantly because god fucking yes itâs so wet and warm and the way it soundsâ is messing with my thoughts and i canât fucking think but itâsâ it sounds fucking perverse and youâre asking me if i like how it sounds dirty like that because iâm just as filthy as you are and you can feel me getting more wet and you can feel my clit getting more swollen against your shaft and you bet i like how i can feel every single fucking vein moving back and forth over my soft wet pussy and oh you bet it feels even better because weâre so close like this right baby? so close together aww youâre such a romantic baby, do you like it when i make my dick feel good with your pretty body? and iâm nodding again but this time canât even say it and
âNothing much. Just a little trick. I heard about it somewhere.â
âI canât⊠what?â
âI did wonder whether itâd work on you. I sort of thought youâd 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?â
âY-yes.â
âOf course you are, thatâs only natural. Itâs only natural for poor, hormone-addled little girls to get flustered with a bit of male attention. Itâs giving you butterflies, isnât it Poppy?â
âYes.â
âRight in your tummy, right here, isnât it?â
âY-yes.â
âMaking you think all sorts of naughty thoughts, hmm?â
â...yesâŠâ
âSay âYes Sirâ.â
âY-yes, S-Sir.â
âBetter. Come on over here and sit down, thatâs it, just sit on my lap, good girl. Now, I can guess what some of those naughty thoughts are. Youâre thinking about being helpless, arenât you? Hmm? Weak? Thinking about me taking advantage of you and being too weak and too girl to do anything about it? Yes?â
âYes Sir.â
âOf course you are. Thatâs normal, thatâs girly, and since youâre a girl itâs only normal youâd think that. Thatâs normal. And if you tried not to think about it, itâd only make it worse. If you tried not to think about it those butterflies would get stronger and youâd just feel weaker and weaker until you couldnât think about anything else at all. And thatâs happened, hasnât it?â
âY-yesâŠâ
âYes?â
âYes S-SirâŠâ
âThatâs okay, Poppy, thatâs okay. No use fighting it now, is there? Itâs too late. Youâre girly, youâre weak, and youâre helpless, and this is normal. So just sit here, on my lap, enjoy being in my arms, relax, and let me be in control, hmm? Sir knows best, yes?â
âSir knows bestâŠâ
âExactly. I know whatâs best for you, and since youâre just a weak, helpless, girly girl, you couldnât even stop me even if you wanted to, could you? You canât stop me, can you, Poppy?â
âNoâŠâ
âNo you canât, and thatâs good. Now, Iâm going to take this hand of mine, this hand here, and Iâm going to bring it up, and Iâm just going to give you a nice, light, little tap on the temple - like that, see? Iâve just knocked a thought loose. A useless thought, you donât need to worry about it. Itâs something you wonât miss. And now itâs loose I can just pluck it out - like this - and pull it away and flick it into the air and, poof, off it goes, there it goes. Bye bye, thought, off it goes.â
âByeâŠbyeâŠ?â
âExactly, good girl. You didnât need it anyway. You donât need most of the thoughts in there, I think, and I know best. So letâs get rid of a few more, hmm? Tap tap. Ah, knocked a good few loose, that time. Iâll just take those. Pluck and pluck and pluck. All gone, see? You feel better already, donât you?â
âI feelâŠâ
âShh, shh, donât think about it too much. Iâm in charge, remember? You feel better, Iâm telling you you feel better, and so you do. Have a little kiss, just on the neck here. There, better?â
âBetterâŠâ
âAll the best girls have empty heads, and you want to be the best, donât you, Poppy? Youâll be the best little girl for me, just have to keep emptying you out. Opinions, ideas, all this clutter. Just taking it all away, one little bit at a time. Hmm, you should take your shirt off, you know.â
âYes Sirâ
âGood girl. Bra too. Good girl. Yes, youâre a very pretty girl, Poppy, and thatâs good. Thatâs all that matters, thatâs all that matters to you. All you need to worry about is being pretty. Donât need to worry about being smart or talented or capable or any of that - just pretty. Itâs all that matters. Yes?â
âPrettyâŠall thatâŠmattersâŠâ
âThatâs it, good girl. Shift about on my lap, face me, legs apart, thatâs it, straddling. Good girl. Look at me. Thatâs it, good girl. Iâm going to just put my hands here, on your head, and youâre going to look into my eyes and I am going to tell you some facts, okay? Some facts about you? The things Iâm going to tell you are true, okay? You canât deny them, theyâre true. Okay?â
âOkay, SirâŠâ
âYouâve always been stupid, Poppy. Youâve never been smart. And thatâs good, you like that. Youâve never wanted to be a smart girl. Smart girls are boring, you know that. Youâre happy being simple and stupid. And a slut. Thatâs another important thing about you, Poppy: youâre a cock-crazy, horny, needy little slut. You try to hide it, of course, but it still slips out. You canât help it, because itâs who you are. Youâre stupid, and youâre a slut. These are facts.â
âF-factsâŠâ
âThe facts can fit in nice and snug and safe since I made room for them, taking out all those other things you didnât need. A good girl doesnât think, she just has her facts. They help her remember who she is when everything gets too much. A girlâs facts are important!â
âFacts⊠importantâŠâ
âGood girl, Iâm glad you remember. I was a little worried lately you were starting to forget your facts, but Iâm happy to see I was worried over nothing. You remember that youâre a stupid slut, you remember that youâre a pathetic horny little girl who gets wet when she does whatâs sheâs told. You remember youâre just holes and tits. How could you forget that? How could I think you could?â
âNnh⊠IâŠâ
âToo many words, isnât it? Poor girl. Just say âYes Sirâ.â
âYes SirâŠâ
âThere, much better. The words donât really matter, Poppy. Words are hard anyway. What matters is just sinking. Sinking into that lovely, fluffy feeling where thereâs no thoughts or anything difficult. Just Sir, and Sirâs voice telling you what you need to know and what you need to do. Much better. Much safer.â
âSafeâŠâ
âSir will keep you safe, donât you worry Poppy. Safe and happy and stupid.â
âStupidâŠâ
âAnd because youâre stupid and a slut thatâs why you know you have to listen to Sir and do as he says, because heâs smarter than you, he knows better than you, and heâs got a cock. A lot of men have cocks, in fact, but you know that Sirâs is the best for you. Itâs the one you dream about, and the one youâd do anything for.â
âAnythingâŠâ
âItâs the one thatâs making you drool, right now.â
âD-d-droolâŠâ
âItâs the one youâre going to get onto your knees and suck, right now.â
âYesâŠSirâŠâ
âGood girl. Hands behind your back, thatâs it. You hold still a second for me. Tilt your face up a bit. There you go. Just resting this on your face. Aww, youâre whining Poppy! I know itâs a bit of a tease but Iâve always wanted to see you like this. It definitely suits you, you know. Kneeling, Sirâs cock resting on your face. How did I ever think you were smart? Tsch. I have a lot to make up for.â
âNnnhhh⊠Sir⊠pleaseâŠâ
âAlright, okay. Enough teasing. Youâve been very good for me, so of course you get a treat. Kneel up straight, mouth open. There you go. Good girl. Such a good girl.â
âMmmpphhâŠâ
âShh, no more talking. You concentrate. There you go. Good girl.â
I remember those pretty little gasps the first time I pushed into you bare. That play-pretend horror at the thought of my cum spilling inside you. I had to be patient, playing all your silly games. "Just the tip." "Five minutes tops." "Just don't cum in me."
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.
You're my breeding pet, and orgasms are just a side effect of you getting your real fix: my seed pumped into you, hot and thick. You need to feel it leak down your thigh, a constant reminder of who you belong to and what you're for. So spread your legs wider, slut. It's time for your next dose.
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