Perhaps it’s the chastity-brain getting to me after more-or-less two straight months. Perhaps it’s some leftover horny energy from my previous post. Perhaps this is just the way of things for a slut. Either way – I’m feeling a very powerful urge to be taken hard, used up and fucked up. There’s no overarching theme, no narrative here, not really. I just need to be ruined.
I’ve been putting markings on myself in marker pen recently, after an off-hand comment from Mistress about a barcode tattoo that read “owned slut”. It’s nice to see them throughout the day – to glance at my arm and see the proof of her ownership, to know I’ve got the word “WHORE” emblazoned just above my chastity cage. And yes, having them be permanent is always a fun little fantasy. But there are other sorts of markings, too.
I want the sharp intake of breath as you land blow after blow on my slutty ass, bringing tears to my eyes while your crop turns it that lovely shade of cherry red. I want nails raked down my chest, digging into soft flesh and leaving little raised trails in their wake. Your hands around my throat, sudden enough to have me gasping for air I just can’t get. Long enough that I start to see stars, little ephemeral flickers fading in and out around you, as radiant as you are. Hard enough to leave a mark – one that I’d have to hide the next day, one that couldn’t be explained any other way than being choked out by the light of my life.
And maybe you don’t choke me ALL the way out – perhaps you release me, give me just enough time to take a reflexive deep breath, and then SLAM your beautiful purple strap directly into its sheath. No waiting, no worrying about damaging your disposable toy, you push deeper, harder, hand on the back of my head as you hilt yourself fully inside my throat. My involuntary gagging and twitching massaging your lovely length, lips spread wide and thin around your fat, thick, cock. You settle in place for a while, resting and looking down at me, with my esophagus full of dildo, and then ever-so-slowly you drag your dick back through my throat, holding my head firmly as my body bucks and shudders without my control.
You pull out almost all the way, leaving only the tip in my mouth for just a moment – before you grab my head with both hands and force yourself all the way back down into your slut’s hole, bottoming out somewhere in my throat. Then you rear your hips back and do it all again.
You’re moving faster, end to tip, over and over, the sound of my gag reflex desperately trying to reject this intruder nothing but music to your ears. Hilt yourself in me again – stroke your hand down my neck and just feel your presence there, thick and solid, more important than air. Quick, jerky movements now, keeping my mouth full as you truly fuck my throat. You pull out once more when you see my eyes rolling back, giving me a chance to breathe, to cough, heavy strands of drool trailing off your dick. Mouth hanging open, sloppy and drooling, eyes red and wet, but still fixated on your cock. You slap me with it, leaving a wet patch of my own saliva on my cheek, followed by the sharp sting of an actual slap on the other.
Dazed, confused, it only takes a light shove to my chest to have me on my back – you’re already sitting on my chest as you click your collar into place around my neck and grab the leash. I roll over onto my stomach, still gasping, throat fucked raw, and instinctively offer my ass up – cheeks still flushed that bright cherry red. You take your strap in one hand – the lube from fucking my throat is good enough for a conscious object – and unceremoniously drive it deep into my sluthole, the tip of your cock wrenching open a path for your thick shaft to follow.
Forcing me open beneath you, you pound, and thrust, and pound, and thrust. Crushing my prostate with the sheer size of you, driving my face into the ground. Any concept of speech is long since gone from me – my throat worn ragged, my mind fucked blank. All I can do is moan, and pant, and beg wordlessly to be destroyed. And you happily oblige, railing me hard and fast until I’m sloppy and broken, stretched out and gaping, the whore you always knew I was. Nothing more than a set of holes, existing solely to be filled – to be used and abused until it breaks.
Ramping up the speed, each thrust accompanied by another moan falling from my mouth. Your hand suddenly tweaking my nipple nearly makes me scream with sensation overload – a sharp spank to my still-red ass actually does. You grab the leash and pull sharply, arching my back as the collar digs into my neck, already making new marks over the ones your hands just left. I struggle to breathe for just a second – and then you let go, fucking ever harder as I fall forward back into slut position.
With one final, deep, hilted thrust, you slowly begin to pull out. Your strap leaves me with a *pop*, as I slump face-down into a puddle of combined fluids – sweat, drool, pre-cum, tears. My sluthole, now well and truly gaped, is quickly filled by a large plug. I see you position my arms behind my back, cuffing my wrists together before moving to my legs, to do the same with my ankles. Then I don’t see anything, a blindfold placed over my eyes – and shortly after that, earmuffs over my ears. I feel you leading me with my hobbling steps toward my straw-padded box, lying me down inside. A presence at my lips unconsciously causes my mouth to open wide, as I realise you’re presenting your cock to me for cleaning, the now detached straps being fastened behind my head. Before they’re locked into place, I manage to gurgle “Thank you, Mistress” around your cock – but, obviously, I don’t hear a reply. The heavy lid is placed on the unlabelled box, your toy is all packed up, and the basement sinks into darkness. You ascend the stairs into the light, stress all relieved, ready to get on with your day.
Everything is exactly as it should be.