Tie Me, Tease Me

eenslaved:

She moaned. His fingers manipulated her flesh with exquisite control, wringing a steady litany of pleas and breathy moans from her open mouth.

She was on her hands and knees before him. Her nude form trembled under a soft sheen of sweat. He stood over her, still dressed. He pressed his leg against the length of her flank, letting her feel her bare skin moving against his pants.

He cupped her cunt with his hand, petted her there as if she were an animal, which she was. He alternately rolled her clit between his fingers and pinched it when he felt she was nearing climax. His finger penetrated her ass, boring into her, lubricated with the wetness leaking out of her cunt. 

“Master, please, I need you,” she panted. “I need your cock. Please use me.”

Three of his fingers slid into her cunt. She cried out, lurching forward a little but holding her position. Her head hung down. She could see her breasts hanging down, nipples adorned with the bell clips which kept sounding out under the quivering of her body. She could see her owner’s hands between her legs, busy, busy hands.

He held his fingers inside her while his other hand slapped her ass. “Ride.”

She moaned and began moving, rocking her hips back, riding his fingers buried inside her cunt. He didn’t help her, just let her fuck herself on his fingers eagerly.

She was chanting something repeatedly. “Please fuck me, please fuck me, please fuck me.” He smiled.

“You know that’s not how it works,” he told his slut. “You have to earn it.” He smacked her again on the ass. “Now come on, get this ass moving back on my fingers.”

She rocked back and forth frantically, grunting with her effort. Next time, he thought, he would have her do this in front of the mirror so they could both watch her face. He had both driven her and denied her orgasm so many times that he knew what she looked like, but he never grew tired of it. From his experience, he also knew that it did something to her when she had to watch herself submitting to him. When he bound her and left her alone in the room, he usually made her to position her in front of a screen, upon which he would play one of the many video clips he had made of her.

The most humiliating scenes got her worked up the most and there was some footage that never got old. He often played her the video of her on all fours, her limbs doubled and bound so she rested only on her knees and elbows, receiving the enema he administered. The humiliation of her sobbing, her distended belly, the way she begged to be allowed to release the enema, stayed fresh even after multiple viewings. 

Another video was of her eating from a dog dish on the floor, her hair tied up out of her face and her hands bound high up behind her back. She had learned to eat this way but it was still a messy process that smeared food all over her chagrined face. When she finished eating, she crawled over to a dildo jutting out of a footstool and bounced herself up and down on it, fucking herself to orgasm while he sound out of view of the camera and cropped her tits every time she begged him to hit her.

His girl was whimpering nonstop now, her cunt leaking copiously, soaking his hand. She seemed to be holding her breath, she was so on edge of climax. 

He removed his hand. She moaned, sobbed. He crouched in front of her and gave her his hand to clean. She was shuddering. It took her a moment, then her tongue came out and she began to lap at his hand, still weeping at the denial of her climax.

This was the state he wanted her in - utterly wretched and desperate, feverish and near hysterical in her desire to come, so controlled by her sex that she would do anything to please him. 

He stood up, his mind already on his plans for the evening. It was going to be something he had to film for her to watch later, one of the videos he would play for her again and again and never get old.

“Come along,” he said. “Crawl for Daddy.”

He walked ahead to her room, grabbing his video camera along the way, as she crawled after him.

eenslaved:

(Previous parts of the Missy series here)

Her serviceable panties are damp, humid. The toy her professor inserted into her cunt has stirred her up. Her pussy is leaking around the toy. The crotch of panties are sodden. She presses her thighs close, rubbing them together discreetly, feeling the sticky wetness there, trying to put pressure on her clit. Not enough pressure. 

She isn’t discreet enough. Her professor drives a hand through her hair, hauling back firmly while keeping his other hand placed on her back so only her head is pulled up.

“Be. Still.”

“Yes, Sir!” Her scalp prickles.

He holds her by her hair for another moment before letting go and easing her back down until her cheek once again rests on the table. He has her face turned towards him. Her face is at the level of his groin, the bulge of his cock concealed behind his slacks. She craves his cock. She want to nuzzle it. She wants to kneel before it and have its length laid atop her head, or slap her across the face. She wants it down her throat. At the back of her throat. Filling her throat.

She can’t see his hands as they’re higher than her sightline, but they must be busy with the control to the toy inside her because the rhythm changes. At first she thinks it’s a lazy pulsing, but the pulses seem to become bigger and harder.

Her hands are stretched over her head, gripping the other end of the table. No rope or chain or cuffs keep them fastened, only his will. She grips the table tightly and keeps her legs together like she was told to.

“You’re doing very well, Missy.”

He remains standing at her head. Her mind is becoming more frantic. She wants his cock sliding across her flesh between her breasts, working between her cleavage in short jabs. She wants his cock to come all over her chest, hit her chin, even her face. She wants it driving into her cunt. Forced into her ass until it’s tunneled into her bottom.

She blinks. Her professor has taken out a wooden paddle. Maybe he will let her come after he paddles her. 

Her professor begins talking to her like he would like to a horse. “Good girl, Missy, that’s a good girl. Staying so still, waiting for me to take you out and use you. Waiting for your discipline.” His palm smoothed over her flank, swept through her hair. His fingers dip to her soaked panties and push up, finding the base of the small toy through the wet cloth, and pushing it higher inside her.

Missy groans. Wordless, animalistic, desperate.

The professor removes his hand and goes back to caressing the globes of her ass that he will shortly punish and turn tender and red.

“That’s a good girl. Good slave. Good Missy.”

He slides her panties down, helping her step out of them before he has her step her feet together again, keeping the toy inside. He folds the saturated fabric and drops it in front of Missy’s nose on the table. The scent of her slutty, juicy cunt fills her senses. Missy stares and smells the evidence of how much she creams for her professor’s discipline and control.

The professor walks around behind her. The paddle cracks against her skin. 

Missy cries out.

“Hush, Missy.”

Crack.

Midway through her discipline, Missy’s professor has her stand up and step back from the table. He gives Missy her panties to hold in her mouth. He watches her as he tells her how to put it into her mouth. Crams it in. Stuffs it.

Then he takes her blouse off her. She has no bra on underneath, just the white blouse. He lets her keep the skirt though. It’s not much of a hindrance. When she bends over, it rises above her ass and anyway, it’s easy to flip up. He has her spread her legs and bend over. Her breasts hanging down, he palms her hot cunt and rasps his fingertips over her flaming, spanked ass, and nudges her clit with his finger. Not rubbing or rolling or even pinching, just nudging it, just a little. It makes her thighs quiver. He gives her pendulous tits a couple slaps though, sets them to swaying, and he pinches her nipples, pulling down on them. Missy keeps her balance.

“That’s it. Good Missy. Good Missy,” he repeats.

Then it’s back over the table. Missy offers herself up to the paddling.

her mind can’t comprehend the pain her body is in

(via withdrawalsymptoms)

they can do whatever they want to her cuz the face she wears just keeps smiling. 

this is creepy

(via withdrawalsymptoms)

perfect pony

transylvanianmisanthropy:

©Patrick Siboni

(via withdrawalsymptoms)

(via withdrawalsymptoms)

mmmph can’t breath

eenslaved:

He found a young sapling and cut off a suitable switch of a good length. The switch was whippy but stiff.

“You were a brat,” he told her. “You didn’t lift a finger to help set up camp, and then you had the nerve to bitch, bitch, bitch.”

“You knew I didn’t like camping!”

“Tough shit babe, you still got no call acting out and being a brat. Now slide your fucking panties down and roll over onto your stomach.” His voice turned hard. ”Do not make me repeat myself, little girl.”

Just like that, all the air was sucked out of their tent in the middle of the woods. She turned over on the sleeping bag and stared at the pile of their provisions in the corner of the tent.

His big hand was warm on her thigh. His hand tightened briefly, in warning, and the next thing she knew, her skirt had been whipped up over her ass and her underwear jerked down. He had told her to wear appropriate gear for walking around. She had ignored him. He hadn’t made a comment at the time, his eyes flashing once, but she had a feeling now she was going to pay for it. 

He folded up a pillow and slid it under her. She looked back at him anxiously. He met her gaze, holding it, letting her see what she needed to see to be reassured. He said firmly, “Face forward, little girl.”

He caressed the soft cheeks of her ass, admiring the feel of the smooth skin, anticipating the way he would stripe it. 

“You know what’s so great about camping way out here?” he said conversationally. “I don’t have to gag you. You can scream as loud as you want. Now, count.”

He laid the whippy switch down across her tender ass. She cried out something wordless at the sharp slice of pain and quickly said, “One.”

“One?”

“One…Daddy.”

“Good girl.” He laid down another stripe, slightly below the first. Another cry, and then a sobbed, “Two, Daddy.”

He made her count up to ten. She screamed, then sobbed, and did both with her head down, the sleeping bag scrunched beneath her fists, her hair all of her face. He gathered her into his arms and kissed her damp face before arranging her face down over his lap. She struggled weakly a little, but settled when he squeezed her sore ass.

“That was for being a disrespectful and bitchy. This is for not following my instructions about appropriate hiking wear.”

She lay over his lap and he alternately spanked her and felt between her legs, pinching her clitoris delicately and thrusting fingers into her vagina. Followed by more spanking. Her bottom was burning under his hand. His hand covered both cheeks at once. The sound of his hand smacking her flesh seemed much louder, out here alone. She squirmed in his lap, rubbing her stomach all over his cock. He slapped her ass and watched it quiver while enjoying the feel of her rocking on his erection. First trying to get away, and then trying to get closer. 

He paused and she didn’t buck at all, just lay over his lap, limp and docile. He turned her, cradling her with one arm. His other hand teased and twisted her nipples. More twisting than teasing since this was a punishment. She shuddered painfully, her eyes still teary and glazed, but her hands lay at her, not moving to block him in any way as he tweaked her nipples into stiff erect peaks.

“Please…” She was panting high and hard. Her voice was thin and a little hoarse.

He pinched a nipple cruelly. “Please, what?”

A long silence.

Whispered, “Please…Daddy. Please let me cum.”

He fucked her flat on her back, her punished ass rasping across the synthetic material a stinging reminder. He had her replace his hands on her tits with her own. She clamped her own tits hard, squeezing harder than even he might have, all the way through her fucking, during her orgasm which made her wild-eyed and breathless, and his own, and she kept doing it like a good girl, until he gave her permission to stop.

(via pull-my-strings)

(via pull-my-strings)