Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9
ooooooooooohhhh… the man groans, as he buries his face in between your tits. You feel him spurt inside of you, and you come; your contractions tightening around his cock, milking it for what he's worth. Your pussy clenches around him, as though you don't want to let him go.
But you know what you did was wrong. You know you're a bad little girl. As you feel his breath on your sensitive, wet boobs, you think of what Master would think of you if he saw cum dripping down your sad, sorry cunt.
He holds onto you for a few more seconds; you try to fight him off, but he dumps all of his load inside of you. The cum sloshes around you as you move. His penis shrinks – it's weird how penises shrink like that, you think, and he pulls himself out of you, slumped on the carpet floor.
You feel his cum flowing out of you into the velvet floor. Your hand absent-mindedly reaches down; you dab your fingers in his cum, and eat it. You taste yourself in there. Is that what my cum would taste like if I was a man? you think. Never mind, just let me have more.
Soon, another dick comes into view. The businessmen don't seem to be dazed at what happened; in fact, they were disapproving, but didn't allow this to ruin the life of the party. The man in question was dragged off by two of his colleagues.
Master was watching this all along. He knew. He always did. But he never stopped you from having fun. And you, blissfully mindless, proceeds to suck the dick in front of you, forgetting the fact that you were not supposed to have someone cum inside you, and focusing on the pleasurable feeling you had while his cum flowed out.
The party soon ends; Master gathers you all in the dining room.
"Girls, I want you to touch your pussy, once, and once only," Master says. "Dip your fingers inside of you, and taste it for me. What do you taste like?"
The girls, along with you, finger themselves. It was Sammy who spoke first.
"I taste… kinda sweet!" Sammy giggled. "Can I touch myself again, Master?"
Master smiles, and says: "That's good, Sammy. But no, you will not touch yourself again. Remember my rules. You are not to touch yourself outside of playtime."
Wendy pipes up. "Mine tastes like strawberries. I've always liked strawberries."
Master replies, "That's good, Wendy. How about you, Betty? How do you taste like?"
"I taste like… cum," you say. The girls gasp. You realise you've just did something wrong; and you drop to your knees.
"Whose cum is it?" Master raises his voice. "WHAT DID I TELL YOU, BETTY?"
"Master please forgive me I didn't mean to do it please forgive me please forgive me please forgive meee…"
The next thing you remember, is being clothed. A smooth plastic-like thing rubbed against your pussy; the linen chafed on your groin. The dress was too long; it rubbed across your delicate, sensitive thighs; your bra was too rough across your sensitive nipples. The long-sleeved blouse, frilly and scratchy, was tight across your torso; every time you moved you felt irritated on your belly, your arms, your wrists. You wonder if your skin will bleed from moving.
The extra sensitivity is a result of the drug; even though you don't know it. You only feel the heightened sensitivity, the pain, the irritation, the chafing. It was as though you were a delicate doll, and the clothes were scratching your porcelain skin.
And then, you remember Master standing right in front of you.
"What did I tell you, Betty?" Master is holding a whip, and a remote. "No one, can come inside your pussy without a condom. NO ONE!"
He cracks the whip; a lance of pain shoots up your thighs as the whip lands on your thighs, hard.
"For this, you will wear the Dress of Shame. You will not go for Playtime. You will not talk. You will be confined to your room. And you will be subject to my whims and fancies." Master presses a button on a remote with his other hand; you feel an intense vibration go up your pussy; an intensely pleasurable sensation. Just as you're about to climax, the vibration stops, leaving you with the sensation of that man's hot cum flowing out of you and wetting your panties.
You're sore; you want to go over the edge. But Master just won't let you. The buzzing becomes softer; intermittent; it never stops, you're at this low level of desire; just that this low level is already intolerable. As you writhe in your chair, you feel your bra on your hardening nipples; it is painful.
"Master… please… forgive me…" you whimper.
But he has already left, leaving you strapped to the chair, feeling guilty about the man's cum inside you. The intermittent buzz continues. You fall asleep.
You wake up in your own bed.
You're still clothed, but you're no longer bound to the bed. You sit up, and wince at the pain and chafing on your pussy.
You can still feel the plastic vibrator against your sore nub and wet lips. Your panties feel dirty; you can feel a mix of that man's dried cum and your dried arousal rubbing in between your thighs.
The vibrator hums again, shooting needles of soreness into your pussy. Your body responds to the stimuli, making you wet, but your arousal has turned to a mixture of pleasure and soreness. You feel your lips swell; your pussy engorged with blood. You are sore, down there, but the assault continues; intensifying even.
The soreness gradually dissolves into more pleasure; you arch your back and thrust your hips back and forth, attempting to rub your nub against the vibrator. It hums, gradually intensifying…. and it stops.
You growl at the vibrator; rubbing it against your nub in an attempt to come. Nothing helps.
The room is empty; every one is out at breakfast.
You suddenly feel hungry. The door is locked; you've been denied breakfast.
You wonder who is giving Master a blowjob today.
The cycles of pleasure, soreness, pain and denial repeats itself. Lunch is a cruel, tasteless, gruel; you spill it in an attempt to cum, as the vibrator had resumed its buzzing madness.
The girls come into the room; they look disapprovingly at you. You notice, however, that Wendy has become more and more radiant. They prepare to leave for playtime, and chatter about what they would do in there.
"How about me fucking you with a strap-on?" Wendy asks. The girls giggle.
"Of course!" says Sammy, as the girls leave the room.
You lay in your bed, desperate for release, as the vibrator begins yet another cycle of desire and despair.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/2g6kou/mindless_despair