1 [FM] [26f4A] (especially mean people) My Friday Night (x-post from r/dirtypenpals)

This is about you. I’m an object to use to satisfy your darkest desires.

It’s irrelevant how we got to this point. Nothing matters outside of what is happening now, and what is going to happen while I’m at your disposal.

You bring out your rope. You take a pause, as though debating something with yourself. I make a joke, trying to lighten the mood. You look at me and give me a smile. I think I’ve been successful. As you turn and bring out a ball gag, I realize that all I’ve inspired is a way to stop me from distracting you. You place the gag almost delicately in my mouth, and I start to drool almost immediately. As you tighten it around my head, I start to get wet while simultaneously proud that I got one last joke in before things started. As if you can read my mind, the back of your hand meets with the side of my face, that slight smile still on your lips.

I deserved that.

It’s not my job to make jokes. It’s not my job to try to anticipate what is coming next. It’s my job to to be whatever you want me to be, and to do whatever you want me to do. I know you care for me, and it’s because of that that you’re willing to take the time and energy to put me in my place.

You go back to the rope. You pull my arms behind my back, just enough to be uncomfortable. As you start to loop the rope around me, you give me instructions like a teacher gives a 1st grader. Calm, clear, soothing. I just want to do what makes you happy. Instincts tell me to laugh or act like I don’t want it, but you know me better than that.

Once I’m tied, you stand back to look at your work. You start to remove your clothing. I watch and smile as much as I can with the gag in my mouth. You smile too, and hit me again. You never said I had the privilege of watching you. I haven’t earned that.

Fuck.

You tell me to lay back, spread my legs, and look at the ceiling. I hate not being able to look at your body. I’ll earn it.

You stay at the foot of the bed and I become acutely aware of the fact that you’re examining my naked body. Every imperfection, every spot of smooth skin, every possibility it holds for you – which is anything you can imagine. I shift. I’m totally on display and vulnerable to your eyes. This sends my mind as crazy as it does when you’re standing behind me with a whip. What are you thinking? What do I look like? What do you want? Is it pleasing? Should I be doing something?

I shift and you tell me to stay still. I immediately stop moving, and you come around and stroke my hair. I don’t deserve that, but you’re being generous. Suddenly your fingers tighten in my hair and you give a quick yank. So smart of you to remind me who’s in charge. You keep staring at me. I still can’t look at you. I try not to whimper in frustration and discomfort.

Finally you tell me to get on my knees on the bed. I struggle with my balance. You don’t help me. You lie down with your hard cock suddenly becoming visible to me. You instruct me to climb over you, with the tip of you just touching my now soaking wet pussy. You warn me if it goes any farther, I’ll regret it. God this is such torture. My pussy literally throbs as all I can think about is you filling me.

I notice that you have the nipple clamps you. You clamp them painfully, one at a time, while my legs muscles start to question the exercise in endurance I’m putting them through. You give a sharp tug to ensure they’re on. I give a muffle shriek through my ballgag – a sharp pain shoots through my chest, my pussy throbs, and I sit down.

I know that’s a mistake. I get up as soon as possible but I know it’s too late.

All I want is to feel you inside me again, but I stay upright and stare at you with fear, wondering what will happen to me for disregarding your clear and simple wishes.

You don’t smile. You tell me to get up. On my knees again.

You pull out the glass buttplug and tell me it’s going down my throat. These instructions are clear too, and I better not fuck them up as well. You’re going to shove it down my throat. First, when you remove the gag, I’m not to make a sound. Then, each time you manoeuvre it into my throat, I need to keep it there for 15 seconds. Any time I fight back early, you will whip me once for each second early you took it out. You’ll decide how many times you fuck my mouth with it. If I break eye contact, you’ll hit me. I can’t hide from the position I’m in.
There’s no escaping that you are in charge, and I’m your fucktoy that will do whatever you want me to.

You do it three times. I try my best, but I fail you. The first time, I instinctively move away nine seconds in. That’s 6 lashes. I get a bit better as we go. I wind up earning 11 hits. I want to cry just thinking about the pain that I’ve earned.

You put the gag back in. You grab the smaller plug and moisten it with my dripping pussy, and with no warning shove it into my ass. I flinch and cry out (as much as I can), but it’s already in.

Since my hands are tied behind my back, that leaves my ass and legs at your disposal. You flip me over – you don’t have the patience to see me fail at turning over on my own right now.

Leaving about thirty seconds between each hit, enough for a smidge of the burning pain to fade, you hit me four times, alternating between the cheeks. As I frantically squirm and try to not cry, you let me know that you’ll save the rest for a later time. I’m so grateful. You’re so nice to me.

Again, you seem to sense what I’m thinking. You can’t let me get away with thinking I’ve earned some kind of niceness, that I’m some kind of equal with you.

You bring me into the bathroom and order me to sit in the bathtub. I flinch as the cold ceramic touches my fresh marks. You tell me to close my eyes. I know what’s coming. I know what to expect, but at the same time have no idea. My heart is beating so fast.

You start to piss on me. Not all over me. You piss on my face, and hair. With the ball gag in my mouth, I don’t have the opportunity to close my mouth, even though instinct tells me to. It drips into my mouth, over the rest of my body. You tell me that in order to remind me how pathetic I am, what a whore I am, you’re willing to fuck a piss slut. You’re not happy that you have to do this. I feel bad. I’ll try to make you happier.

You tell me to stand up and turn around. You pull the plug from my ass and wipe it on my piss-drenched face. You then shove it in my cheeks, around the ball gag. Don’t drop it, you tell me.

The next thing I know, I feel the cold glass of the big plus against my tight ass. I’m scared. You press. It doesn’t matter that I’m scared. I know that. But the fear stays.

The burning pain radiates suddenly as it enters my body. At the same time, my clit throbs with joy. God I’m lucky you know what a slut I am.

I whimper as piss drips from my body. You turn me around, and I can see you’re disgusted by my state. With the plug still in my mouth and my hands behind my back, you spit on my face. And again. And again. You let it sit as you bring it back to the bedroom.

You take pictures. You take your time.

You push me down onto the floor. You start to bind my ankles together. I’m becoming physically helpless. You warn me that the next hits are coming. Sure enough, two on each thigh, with just enough time in between to make it possible for me to stand it. A few tears drip from my eyes. You pull the plug from my cheeks and use it wipe my tears. You then remove the gag and stick the plug into my mouth. If it falls out, I’ll regret it, you say. You look at the marks the whip has left behind, and tell me I’m a good girl. Those are good ones.

I can’t get back on the bed on my own. You laugh at how pathetic that is, so you have to grab me by my bound hands and hair and move me there myself, onto my back. You pause again, as though wondering what you want to do with your fucktoy next.

You slowly pull the plug out of my ass, and it joins its brother in my mouth. I won’t drop them, don’t worry. You tell me that no matter what happens next, I can’t make a sound. Every sound I make, you’ll smack me. And then you’ll start over.

What’s happening?

You insert two fingers inside me, and I know. How can I have your fist inside me without making a noise?? Even the realization has me let out a whimper. FUCK.

You stop. You sigh. You come up and smack me. My ears rings. I want to cry. I’ll do better.

You start again. As more and more of your hand enters me, I can feel myself stretching in ways I’m not supposed to. With four fingers as you slowly start to fuck me, I make a sound again. As you pull your hand out, I nearly squeak again with the sadness of the emptiness. As you slap me, I feel my pussy juices on my face. Am I bruised? I hope so. I love to remember your lessons.

Your hand enters me again. I try to breathe. I try to focus. I can do this. I can do this for you. When it starts to hurt the most is when it matters the most. I can’t tell how much of your hand is inside me as I breathe through the pain. You let out a sound that sounds satisfied. I hope that means you’re good. You let me know that my gaping whore hole has fit your whole hand. I’m proud, and relieved too that it will end soon. But then you keep pushing further.

I can do this.

I can’t do this.

This time, you hit me twice. I ruined something that could have been good. I’m sorry.

You say the only thing I’m good for is being fucked. But you’ve just stretched out my pussy, so why bother? The next thing I know, the head of your cock is against my ass, and you’re in.

I gasp and drop one of the plugs. You notice, and while you fuck my helpless ass, you put me in a choke hold. I want to say no. It’s too much right now. But I can do this. Things start to go starry, then dark. The sound of your balls slapping against my worthless body start to fade. I go somewhere far away.

The next thing I know, I’m face down on top of two butt plus while you rhythmically assault my asshole with your dick. I don’t know what to think. I can’t think. Thank you.

You pull out. And you slide into my pussy. Then back into my ass. Then into my pussy again. This is so bad. Please don’t stop.

You don’t stop. But you do ask me if I’ve forgotten that I have three hits left. I did. The front ones hurt the most. I want to tell you, but you must know.

The first one lands on my stomach. God it hurts. I can’t. I can’t do it.

You smile and tell me I’m a good girl. I can. I can do this.

One more for each thigh. I did it.

You’re still fucking me. Good. I want you to cum. I want your cum. I fucking need your cum. I live for this.

You pull out and quickly grab me by my hair as you bring your dick to my mouth. I eagerly put my tongue out to catch the first hot spurt of cum, as you suddenly shove yourself all the way into my throat. I start to choke as you shoot cum directly down my throat. On my back with my hands tied behind me, I have no leverage to resist. Good. While my body may want to resist, my mind does not. Please force feed me your cum. It’s the best part of me.

You wipe your cock off on my lips as you finally pull out. I lick it off. More please?

Your Dumb Little Slut

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/62qriu/1_fm_26f4a_especially_mean_people_my_friday_night