My new master is so lovely. He is so young and fresh and makes me do the nastiest things to please him. He makes me jerk his swollen cock until he comes in a cup and I am to drink it all. He leaves me tied up next to the toilet because he would rather piss in me than the toilet. His warm stream filling my cunt and asshole feels so good I couldn’t be happier. He always makes me wear my ball gag so that if I wanted to complain I couldn’t. I never would though, because I know somewhere in the process he is going to give me that sweet cock and that is just what mommy needs. Even when he gets his whip and leaves lashes across my ass cheeks I love it. It is all training from my master and I live to serve him and his cock. I really hope I get to suck his dick tonight. I hope I have been a good enough girl to get to drink his cum for dinner. I know my master loves me and I know he will give me his spunk in my mouth like I need it.
Submissive Whore Gene Runs in the Family
As a submissive whore, I got curious about why I am the way I am. For as long as I can remember , I have been a beta. Never have wanted to be dominant. Never tried to fight a man with a strong will or a strong hand. I’ve never even been a filly that needed broken. I just always assumed I was born submissive, just like some folks are born gay. Recently, I discovered a big steamer trunk hidden in the attic that belonged to my mother. I had to break the lock to get it open, but what I found answered a bunch of questions. It appears that perhaps I inherited a submissive gene. That trunk was filled with BDSM equipment. Vintage restraints, nipple clamps, paddles and bondage gear. The best part discovery was a box of photos. Old black and whites of my mom. There were 100s of photos of her in various restraints and bondage positions. My favorite set was of her tied to a chair with mousetraps on her nipples.
I suspect my father was her master. He was my first master. Was it possible he owned us both and never let on to the other? Or had I replaced mommy as his subby bitch? Because I never had a clue my mommy was submissive. But, I was so turned on knowing that my submissive nature was inherited not learned. For me it is a mix of nature and nurture. I am sure I learned some submissive behavior from watching her with my daddy, even if unconsciously. I cleaned up my mom’s old equipment and called my son over. He likely inherited his dominant nature from my daddy, and my boss, who is his biological father. He just doesn’t know that. My son was more than happy to tie mommy to a chair, affix mousetraps to my nipples and whip me for hours. I got so wet imagining my gingered mommy getting treated like a fuck pig that I came in my panties. My son got so turned on knowing grandma was a pain slut too he fucked my ass while wrapping a pair of her pantyhose around my neck. If my mommy can see me from wherever she is, I hope she proud of her little whore.
Submissive Phone Sex on Earth and in Hell
Submissive phone sex means I am submissive to you. Actually, I am submissive to anyone and anything, even demons and other non entities. A few years ago, I was asleep in my bed, bound to the bed posts and gagged by my Master who would release me in the morning. Fast asleep; helpless. Yet I somehow awoke in a very dark place. It looked like my bedroom, but not my house. Was I dreaming or had I been kidnapped from my bedroom? I was trembling, scared. Had master arranged a midnight encounter? Then I felt something huge penetrate my ass. Something hot and very thick. I couldn’t see a thing, but I felt it. The same sensation hit me from the front. Huge, hot, spiked dildos is what I thought. Then I was lifted up in the air. How was Master doing this? Had he drugged me with something hallucinogenic?
I felt strong warm, really warm, arms around my waist, squeezing me tightly. So tightly, I thought I would I burst. I was clearly being double penetrated. But by who and where? I’m a good submissive fuck pig. I allowed whomever was molesting me to continue uninterrupted. The question was not who was fucking me but what. There were mirrors in the dark room. I saw my reflection and the red glow of a demon. Horns, razor sharp teeth, dragon like extremities, snake like skin. Was I in hell? Had I died? I wanted to scream, but I told myself this was some sort of nightmare or drug induced hallucination. If it wasn’t, surely it was staged by my Master. Perhaps an elaborate rape fantasy.
I was force fucked by Satan or his spawn for hours. The next thing I remember was waking up in my bed again, restrained like before. No one in sight. My pussy and ass filled with some gelatinous material, and gashes all over my body. And a pentagram branded on my inner thigh. I was the devil’s bitch too.


























