His hand covers her mouth, stifling her, making it difficult for her to breathe. His body is everywhere; over her, around her, inside her. It is overwhelming for her, claustrophobic, terrifying. His weight pushes her down even as His constant thrusts push her forwards, straining her muscles and making every inch of her ache. He makes her feel small, unimportant, pathetic.
she bites back a whimper, unsure of whether or not He is driving her towards another orgasm or just a shout of violation and pain. Either way, His hand has made it clear that He does not want to hear her by how it has hit her and silenced her. That’s alright, though, since she does not want to be forced to orgasm again and she loathes the impotency of her agonized cries.
she feels His shaft swell inside of her. At least, she thinks she does. He has been rock hard since He shoved her down and mounted her, making the space of lack between her legs explode in pain and shame. He’d woken her up out of a sound sleep, nightmare made real. she hopes she isn’t mistaken about Him swelling; she prays that His climax is approaching, even as she dreads Him cumming inside of her.
she still hasn’t seen His face. Part of her wants to but mostly she fears it. Most of all she fears that He won’t leave after He’s cum inside of her. For some reason she doesn’t think He will be satisfied with raping her just once.
Though perhaps He’ll leave. After all, He showed her the key He’d used to come in. It was the exact same as the key on her ring.
He sounded perfectly calm when He said He could come by whenever He wanted.
I need to not be good enough. To not be able to please You. I need for You to make it very clear that I do not and never will satisfy You.
I gag myself on Your cock, trying my hardest. You sigh in exasperation, grimace, and shake Your head. You pull my head up and slap me, but only half-heartedly, because I’m not even worth the effort of a good hard slap. I try again. You tell me that I don’t know the first thing about servicing a cock. That instead of pleasing You, I’m only making You irritated and bored.
I work harder. You just pick up a book from the nightstand. I start to cry, and You laugh.
"You can’t even be good at being a whore," You say from behind Your book.
I’m drowning in tears and snot and drool. I’m choking and sobbing against Your cock. You reach down and shove my head further down, holding it there. I struggle and claw at Your thighs and stomach, desperate for air.
You only release my head because You need to turn the page.
If you stop fighting me I can get my cock up your ass faster. It’s pointless to resist.
Sometimes a little struggle is fun though. Especially when the cunt realises it’s completely pointless, and I will get what I want no matter what she says or does.
You chose this. Never forget that. Never forget what it means.
Here, now, you are nothing. Your education and advanced degrees do not matter. Your career does not matter. Your smarts, your thoughts, your opinions; none of them matter. You have no options, no choices, no escape.
You are three holes, to be filled with whatever I choose. You are a lovely pair of tits, to be pleasured or hurt as I wish. You are a squirming mass of flesh, for me to toy with.
Nothing you do or say will influence me. You have nothing to bargain with; everything you are belongs to me in this moment. Do not offer to do anything for me; you will do exactly as I wish anyway. Be as well-behaved as you like; you will cum only if it pleases me more than denying you would. You will suffer pain for the simple reason that I enjoy hurting you. I need no other reason.
Whether you like what happens to you is irrelevant. You are not here for your enjoyment. You are here for mine. I may use you exactly as you fantasize, I may simply place you in the corner and ignore you. Whatever pleases me is what will happen. Your enjoyment is immaterial.
You will beg, you will cry, and you will suffer. You may cum again and again until you think you cannot take it. You may be left frustrated and denied. Whichever I choose, you will beg for it and thank me for it. Only my wishes matter here.
Above all, never forget that you chose this. You asked for it. You begged on your knees to be treated as nothing more than property. And no matter what I choose, you know that deep inside you want, crave, need this.
The ad in the paper is for an administrative assistant. It almost sounds too good to be true. High salary, health insurance. Knowledge of Microsoft Office, a high school diploma, and the ability to type 50 wpm are the only requirements. You need a job, badly. You call the phone number. The woman on the other end asks you a few basic questions, then tells you to come in for an interview.
Friday morning, you dress in a black pencil skirt, wedge heels, thigh high stockings without a garter belt, a white fitted button up with a black tank top and lacy black underwear and bra. The office is on the eighteenth floor of a skyscraper. You take the elevator up, and follow the signs for “GR Associates.”
It is not a person, It is just a way to get off.
Take away her will to fight. She will do whatever she is told once she realizes that her right to think, feel, and even breathe are controlled by you.
What she has in her mouth is called a Jennings Gag. I have a couple of these gags. It’s the best way to keep a slut’s mouth open while you fuck her throat. Firmly tie her up as well and then there’s nothing she can do except for suffocate on your cock.
You serve the man who claims you. You don’t get to pick. Even the best bitch in the world is still below the lowest man.