Submissive Whore kneels, hands bound behind my back, a thick leather thong the only thing shielding my nakedness. The butt plug, a relentless intruder, stretches me, a constant reminder of my place. My heart pounds in my chest, because I know how much it is going to hurt. But I am here because I choose to be, for the release, the surrender, the delicious pain.
My Master circles me, his boots echoing in the silence. His hand, a branding iron, grazes my cheek. I lean into it, my body betraying my defiance. I am a whore, his whore, here to serve his every need.
“Please, Master,” I whisper, my voice strangled by the collar around my neck. “Punish me. I’ve been a really nasty girl.”
He chuckles, a dark sound that sends shivers down my spine. “You’re always a nasty girl,” he says, his hand wrapping around my throat, not tight enough to cut off my air, but enough to make me feel it. “But I love you for it.”
His hand leaves my neck, and I feel the loss, the cold. Then, the first slap. It echoes in the room, a clap of thunder on my skin. It stings, a sharp, intense pain that radiates, then fades, leaving behind a warmth, a tingle. I moan, my body betraying me, arching into the next hit.
He spanks me, his hand alternates between my cheeks, the blows getting harder, more intense. I feel the heat spreading, my skin turning a delicious red. Each strike pushes the plug deeper, a constant pressure that turns the pain into something else, something more.
He slips a hand between my legs, his fingers finding my clit, swollen and ready. I gasp, my body convulsing. He chuckles again, that dark sound that sends shivers down my spine. He knows, always knows, how to play me.
“Not yet,” he growls, his voice a whip crack in the room. “You haven’t earned it yet.”
He continues, his hand raining down on my flesh. The pain is intense, but I crave it, need it. I need to be beaten into submission, to be his good little fucktoy. I scream, a raw, primal sound, as the next blow lands, my body convulsing, my orgasm teetering on the edge.
He pauses, his breath ragged. I feel his cock, hard and demanding, pressed against my back. He grunts, his hand running down my spine, tracing the welts he’s raised on my skin. “Good girl,” he whispers, his voice a caress. “So fucking beautiful when you’re like this.”
I whimper, my body shaking, my orgasm retreating. I need more, I need him. “Please, Master,” I beg, my voice hoarse. “Use me. I need you to use me like the Extreme bondage I am.”
Rape phone sex fantasies are sexy hot chat time. Not every fantasy needs to be chatted about, and rape fantasies are better when shared. It makes for a hot time in the city tonight. Just like the song S & M, whips and chains excite me, which means that fantasy rape is to be sure sexy and be sure to come at it hard and fast.
