“I want you to brag about your cunt.” His hand is on his cock, and I’m naked, my legs spread open towards him with my fingers inside me.
As a slave in sex and a Nice Girl in life, bragging is not something I’m used to doing. It’s better for me not to overthink, so I ask for guidance. “I don’t know how. When guys brag about their cocks, they talk about how big they are. I guess girls would brag about tightness? Can you give me some lines?”
“Say, ‘I’m proud of my strength.'”
“I’m proud of my strength.” Obedience is immediate, and so are the tears. “I’m proud of my strength.” It feels like a mindfuck. I’m pretty sure he’s talking about my articulated vaginal muscles, toned from the years of kegel exercises he’s ordered. But owning my own strength and self-esteem is something we actively work on in me, and it hits different when I’m fucking myself, when he’s fucking me.
My cunt and heart are directly connected.
“What are you thinking?” he asks as I continue to cry. My fingers pump slowly, feebly in and out as I’m overwhelmed with soul-deep spiritual understanding: I’m an ourobuoros, a self-containing cycle of generation and rebirth.