eenslaved

He had his fuck toy displayed in the middle of the sitting area, a mirror placed to the side, though he had blindfolded her and she couldn’t see herself….see the bowing of her back, the trembling strain of her arms, the outward thrust of her nipples, or the string of drool leaking from around the ball gag.

Turning her head seemed to increase the strain on her arms, but she couldn’t seem to help herself, she kept turning her head as he walked around her. Squatting in front of her, he brushed the backs of his knuckles over her nipples before seizing them in a tight pinch, winning him a muffled response. He backed off and took his seat on an armchair facing the mirror so he could view her from different angles. Thumbing the remote to the vibrator inside her, he settled back to watch the minute responses he had permitted her, something more entertaining than a sports game or news show.

(via ariaonthefloor)

Using his fuck-kitten.

Stoya & James Deen, Bad Girls 7.

She carried the belt from where it hung in the closet and held it in her two hands to bring it to him, letting the supple leather slide through her fingers.

The toy chest which normally rested against the wall was pulled to a prominent position in the center of the room. 

“Present yourself,” he said.

She knelt on the polished wood. He had made the chest itself in his workshop, but she had been the one to sand it while he spanked her from behind. Kneeling on top of it, she lowered herself further by resting on her forearms. Her head bowed and her breasts swung down. His finger tapping on the inside of her thighs had her hurriedly spreading her legs apart. 

He spoke again, not to her, but to their guests to whom he was giving this demonstration, ”Look how she trembles with anticipation. Look how wet she already is. It seems a waste not to use her mouth in this position. Charles why don’t you take your pleasure of her?”

(Source: morethanithurtsme, via fetish4)

To celebrate my blog’s 1 year anniversary, a new Missy addition. (Here are the previous Missy stories: one, two, three, four, five, six, interlude. Thank you for reading.)

The girl called Missy was drooling.

She held a rubber ball between her teeth. Twine ran from the eyelet hook in the ball to the clamps that pinched her nipples close. The lines of twine were held taut. No straps forced the ball in her mouth. Just his soft warning not to let it drop. Or else. So she kept the ball in between her teeth, filling her mouth. Kept gagging herself. Kept letting her saliva well and drip.

Missy swallowed convulsively. Her nipples jerked. Her scalp prickled with tiny needles of pain. She didn’t know how he had bound her head in this position, only that it placed her in a horrible position. Bowing her head eased the constant pressure on her nipples but increased the pulling of her hair. Tilting her head further back made her nipples feel like they were being bitten off. Sometimes he put a mirror in front of her so she could see what she allowed him do to her. Not this time though.

Her professor walked into view from behind her. Missy blinked at him through wet eyes.  He looked down at her. Not into her eyes. At her face. She still wore his drying cum on her face. Cum splattered on her forehead, nose, chin, cheek, corner of her eye. She breathed in through her nose. Breathed in the scent of his mark that signified his ownership of her.

The professor tapped her jaw and held his hand out. “Open and release.”

Missy whimpered. The rubber ball dropped wetly into his palm. Her captured nipples throbbed inside their clamps.

The professor lowered her chin to the top of the chair back. Every time she breathed, she rubbed her nipples against the fabric of the chair. The chair she was bound to was heavy and immovable. Even if she was able to move, she wouldn’t have been able to rock it.

Missy’s eyes followed her Master. The professor’s cock was visibly outlined in the fabric of his slacks. He had, over the weeks, taught her to worship it. To revel in his dominance over her.

She didn’t pay attention to the camera in his hands until the shutter clicked noisily. She made a little sound of distress. He ignored this and took another photo.

“How very interesting,” the professor said. He was still ignoring her. He was looking at the pictures he had just taken. “How very rapidly your entire body blushes. After so much training, you still blush….as though you had any modesty left. That is truly remarkable, Missy. You may thank me for the compliment and my exquisite training of your sluttish nature.”

“Thank you, Sir,” the girl called Missy replied. Her voice sounded rusty, out of use. This weekend had been one of silence, he did not give her permission to speak without first being spoken to. He either kept her gagged, or did not ask her for a verbal response. His guests from the previous night did not speak to her either. They only spoke at her. “Open.” “Suck.” “Spread.”

But she did get to scream. And moan. From pleasure and pain both.

The professor watched her through the camera viewfinder as he would regard an object. He zoomed in on the splatter of cum near her eye. Like a teardrop. He took a photo of those beautiful, needy eyes and that mark of use. He took a photo of the girl’s red, swollen mouth. Well-used, it was. Even now, chin resting on the chair, her lips were parted, affording him glimpses of her tongue that knew how to curl so erotically around his balls.

He walked behind her and took a photo of her bound wrists and twitching fingers, fisted in the fabric of her plaid skirt, holding the cloth up to willingly expose the round halves of her ass.

“Such a clever girl, turned into such a nasty slut,” he said. This was what he loved—turning a studious ambitious, freshfaced young woman into a fuck toy, slave to her desires, over which he exerted his control. All that independence and intelligence harnessed. 

Lying at his feet, nerves in a constant state of readiness from being ignored or played with.

From Quinn’s Shadow and Light.

Happy 1 year anniversary of my blog! When I started this tumblr, I never imagined I would keep it up for a year. Thank you for sharing in this journal of my desires. 

A well-spanked girl standing in her punishment corner. Trying to cower into the corner, for he has placed her deliberately near an open and exposed window. She watches the delivery boy walk slowly up the steps, holding a large package. Surely this is one of the boxes he has been waiting for all week. He has been teasing her with hints as to what could be inside. Things he will use on her. Do to her. Put on her…or put her in. It is a large box, large enough to hold a small cage. She imagines being prodded into a small cage, her flesh pressed up close to the bars….people walking around it and poking and pinching her.

His voice calls from upstairs: “Answer the door, pet. Just as you are.”

After classes at the university, I let myself into his apartment with my key. I would retrieve my collar where it was hanging on a hook in the foyer, and I would go find him. Sometimes he would be in the den, sometimes his study room, or the kitchen or even the balcony. Wherever he was, he would be waiting for me with an implement he would use on me. I never knew what it would be. 

I went to him, and he would collar me with little touches on my neck, the exposed skin revealed by my blouses or sweaters, the shell of my ear. Little strokes that had me all but melting….or feeling like a high tension wire was strung through me.

He buckles a bit gag around my head. It is marked with my teeth. There will be more marks, he uses this gag for when he wants to make me scream, and to hear me do it.

He puts a lead on me and holds two fingers down by his left leg. I lower myself to my hands and knees. He takes me for a walk around the apartment and all the rooms. One loop, two loops. My knees hurt, but my nipples are stabbing points into my shirt and I am so wet.

All evening in the library he had been teasing her with the vibrator, keeping the remote control in his left hand as he blithely took notes with the other. Her shoulders hunched and her head was bowed over her open book as she tried to draw as little attention as possible to herself, even though he had seated them in a discreet corner.

He teased her higher and higher towards climax without looking at her, though he was aware of how she quivered. She was anticipating an orgasm. He dialed the vibrator back down to its lowest setting, and a gasped “No!” left her lips as her hands flew from the table to her cunt and hovered there. He smiled at this evidence of her training. He placed the control on the table. Her eyes watched it compulsively. 

“Take your hands away, slut.” The pads of his fingers pushed against the little scrap of cloth between her legs. 

“John please, you can’t! Not here.”

“If you’re quiet, no one will know. And I didn’t give you permission to call me by name.” He suddenly pulled down the neckline of her shirt, arranging it under the breasts he had been rubbing and pinching throughout their study session. “You already have a punishment coming for taking your hands away from the table. Both hands back on the table.”

“Sir!” Her face was red with humiliation. Her palms trembled as she placed them face down on the table and the mess of her books and papers.

His hand returned to stroking her through the thin fabric. When her thighs clamped his hand, he used his free hand to pinch her nipple hard until she relented with a mortified gasp. His fingertip slipped into her panties and pushed against the small vibrator soaking inside.

He slid his pocketknife out to her by her right hand. He kept his mouth very close to her ear. “You’ll come on my finger like a good girl, and you will beg me to let you gag yourself. We both know how loud you get, slut. But not until you carve something into this table.”

“J-Sir, I can’t! It’s defacing school property, I could get in trouble—”

“You’ll get in more trouble if someone walks over here and sees you on your knees with your tits hanging out as you beg my cock to let you come,” he murmured in her ear. He stole a kiss on her cheek. Her pussy gushed even more, and he smiled. “Do it. I want you to carve ‘Slut’s table’” here. Then I’ll let you come. Wouldn’t you like that? You haven’t come in quite a few days, haven’t you? You know what else I have in my pocket? Your panties from yesterday’s study session. I’ll give them to you to use as a gag…if you’re good.”

After they entered the house and their coats had been taken, he held three fingers to his thigh. She sank immediately to her hands and knees, kneeling first and then lowering herself even further by resting her forward weight on her forearms. He hooked the end of the rope that held her body to the door handle of the closet. Her job, he informed her, was to open the door for people who wished to retrieve their coats. She would not be permitted to speak or stand. Simply serve.

(Source: theguccislut, via bendhur)

Her Master was throwing a big party and he wanted some “living art” as he called it to decorate the house. The party planner he hired came over one afternoon with clipboards and books for her Master to browse. For ideas. Inspiration. The party planner took notes as her Master expressed his preferences. Then they began to narrow down the ideas by seeing what they looked like.

Blinded, gagged, straps cutting into her cheeks and under her chin, she writhed on the carpet at their feet. As her Master toyed with the remote to the vibrator buried inside her, she sank her teeth deeper into the rubber ball.

“I do like how her back arches like this,” her Master said thoughtfully.

“Mm, yes,” said the party planner. “Of course it wouldn’t be practical to have too many of them in this position as they would severely limit your floor space. Would you like to see another position?”

“By all means,” her Master invited. 

The flogger licked up between her legs. She bit down hard on the fabric in her mouth and buried her face stubbornly in the mattress. The flogger flicked out again and he warned, “Don’t hide your face from me.” He waited until she showed him her anguished face again before walking around the mattress to get at her from a new angle. The flogger landed, this time bringing a wail through the gag.

He paused and, stroking her hair from her face, gently but forcibly tucked more of the fabric between her lips. He patted her bulging cheeks, smiling at her.

“You look very cheeky, like a squirrel,” he said, “little dirty squirrel, do you like the taste of yourself?”

The flogger continued licking her pussy. She moaned and shook on the bed. He told her, “Next time, you’ll spread your ass for me with your own hands and I’ll flog you there.”

Then he rewarded her by removing the sodden panties from her mouth. As he roughly fucked her, he held the garment to her face so she had to breathe in the wet scent of herself.

“Please may I cum,” she begged, and because she had been so good, he let her.

Working on correcting her posture.

(Photographer: John Tisbury)

(Source: georgianarsvp)

Transporting her in the trailer to her new home.

(via johnnyadidas)

Surrounding her with his scent, his hands covering, caressing, controlling the vulnerable throat and sensitive cunt, teasing bite at her ear, the dark whispers he murmurs.

(Source: erotic-bw-art)