Good boy. [m/f]

I had never felt this way, never could I even imagine it. How many women had felt my fingers grip their neck, enduring the pleasurable pain of my mouth and fingers trailing and hickeying their way down, leaving a constellation of dark stars along them? Yet, I had never wanted nor desired to have the roles reversed. To be so small, so used up, that’s not me.

Here I was, being used anyway. You, less than half my size had made me feel like I was putty in your hands. Even if I wasn’t tied to the bed, even if moving meant those elegant fingers wouldn’t choke me and fuck… fuck I didn’t want that to stop.

Why weren’t you stroking me? I could barely think, I tried to force myself up, tried to lift myself up, hoping for a kiss, but as strong as I am, as tiny as you are, I had no leverage to do so. Slammed back to the bed, slapped, it became clear to me you would have your way no matter what. I agreed to this thinking I would retain control no matter how much rope you felt I needed.

I was wrong. The third attempt to rise, I felt the cloth tighten around my head, my vision dark completely. Could you feel my heart beat? The way it hiked at feeling just the tip of your tongue on my neck, my chest? The way it soared when you traced your fingers down, lining around my pelvis and stopping just short… fuck I needed it.

You made me beg like a dog, you made me mewl and twist like an animal or beast. We’re you proud? You must have known you broke me, that I’d have done anything for more.

By the time your hand gripped my cock, my thoughts were foreign to me. You have to understand, I had never felt so servile, had never felt so pathetically uselessly pinned. I loved it. I would let you torture me, in a way, I was almost disappointed when I felt your hips slide up, your fingers positioning me.

Didn’t you want to make me work? Was it pleasurable enough, the way I broke for you? I felt your soft whispers in my ear as you gyrated, inch by inch letting me, allowing me to fill you up. Your soft coos, I had never been called a good boy before. It would have been absurd, only conceivable as something a brat would say to me in the hopes of reprisal.

You reassured me didn’t you? I needed these coos, needed to know I was good, that I deserved the heaven you gave me. What had you done to me? Do you remember the things you said? Wild little stories I could never repeat to a soul.

Not for their outright wildness, or because they were in themselves embarrassing, but because I loved it. I know I failed to hide it. The way a moan escaped when you viciously promised that next time I was tied, i would have to watch patiently while you were fucked raw, that I’d be so very gagged, so very pinned, I could do not a damn thing.

Could you sense where my mind went? That I ached at the idea of how wet, how warm you’d feel when they finished, and you finally climbed into my lap? A moan released, rewarded with a particularly deep thrust down.

“Good boy.” Fuck I wanted to be. Every inch of my skin a place to bite, suck and nibble. So completely torn between the absolute height of pleasure and pain. Did you understand I was your property? My body, my cock slick with you, all yours.

When I came, it was your eyes I loved the most. The way you looked at me as you licked every drop up, from my pelvis to my neck. I remember the way you moaned as I erupted, idly guiding my cock back towards me, pathetically spraying my own body only for you to feast slowly…

You broke me like a toy, you owned me, and I swear from here on out? I’ll be a good boy.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/orp264/good_boy_mf

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