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I cannot decide. I don’t know if I should wrap you in my arms. Plant gentle pecks on your pretty face. Nuzzle you into my neck. Or if I should hold you against me hard, gagged, hooded, clamped as I bruise your insides with my claim to my fuck-toy rag-doll with needy wet holes that you are.

I guess I’ll do both.

We will begin slow. Your collaring for the night will be an act of love. I will administer it with a feathery touch and a warm whisper.

We will then discover our rhythm. My debauchery of you will be an act of love too, dearest. I shall administer it with reverent vigor.

I will begin with your lips. And I will know you will fail. You will enunciate. Force words upon your tongue that stir your loins. You are mine, are you not? Say it. Your heart thumps achingly at the timbre of my voice in heat, no? Say it. That pang of hunger in your belly will only be washed down with my seed, yes? Say. It.

Oh, I know you cannot. Some thoughts are prettier left unsaid. But we are not going for pretty. I want you raw. Intimate. Bare. Animal: I want *you*. To be close as close can be and still be two.

No matter. If you will not enunciate of desire, you will enunciate of pain. I will tie you in my rope and bend you over my knee. You will wince your gratitude at my correction of you until you can gasp out the words your propriety is keeping from my ears.

One, two, three. *Thank you, sir*. Four, five, six. *Yes, sir, thank you sir!* Seven, eight, nine. *Ah no please! Thank you sir! I’m yours, sir!* Ten, eleven, twelve. *But I said it! More, sir?*

Twenty. *I want your cum, sir.*

Thirty. *Fuck me, sir! Use me however you want, sir!*

Forty. *Fuck you!*

Fifty.

Sixty. *I am your whore. I am worthless. Fill me, sir. Give me your pain, sir. Use my body. I will take what you give me. Make me remember what my flesh already knows. I am a piece of meat. To be owned and consumed. I don’t know how. Own me and consume me. Show me! Is that fucking enough?*

Seventy. For the sass. But, yes, it will do for tonight.

I know you will utter these words from pain. Face flushed in embarrassment and perhaps irritation. Some thoughts are prettier left unsaid. They will be of my woman who wants less, not my whore who wants more. But they will have been said, nonetheless.

I will strip you naked and place you on my floor. You won’t have earned by bed, yet. I will place a hood on your head and a gag on your mouth. I will position you face down, ass up. Your shoulders and head will be under my bed frame. I won’t need them. A piece of meat has no person hood. Your naked ass will be sticking up. I will tie your ankles and thighs wide so your body can not deny me. I will restrain your torso in place so you can not get away.

Unable to see. Unable to touch. Unable to speak. Unable to taste. My pretty little fuck-doll in all but name.

I will run my finger up. Over the mound of your pubis, the hood of your clit, through the wet slit, stopping at the wrinkly end. You will wince. My finger will stay. I will let some lube slide down your skin and I will push. In silence, you will take.

Like any act of my love, I will begin gently. And then I will cleave your holes wide open and you will be helpless to but cleave to me.

I will fuck your ass hard. My pretty slut won’t be able to distract her hurt by playing with her lonely pussy. Aww! A Good Girl should focus on the gift her owner is giving her. You will concentrate on the hurt, and the pleasure of that hurt. You will feel every stroke as I force my way into you. The token resistance of your flesh. Its expected surrender. You will feel the ridges of my shaft when your skin stretches to welcome me. The prickle of my hair on your ass as I penetrate balls deep. The grunt of air from your lungs accompanying my thrust up your spine. You will learn that to take is your only fate. Your worth is in your use to me.

I will finish with my favorite sex toy. A warm, you-sized pocket pussy framed by ass cheeks with angry red hand-prints. Oh I know you will know I’m about to fuck your pussy. You may hear a new condom being put on, or me shifting my position. I will draw out your suspense. I bet you’ll arch your back and push yourself back to greet my cock. Don’t get greedy, slut.

Do not think my use of your cunt will be gentle. I bet you’ll like it more rough, anyways, won’t you? Deep down you want to be shown your place, don’t you? I know you do. You want your owner to break down your pride and sense of self, bereft of superfluous mores that life has put on you. Wealth, accomplishment, expectation: all for naught. You are animal. Primal. You belong. You start and end at what you are to me. And you are content.

I will fuck you with disregard that is important for a Good Girl’s well being. The room will ring with the slap of flesh on flesh. Your ears will tingle at my grunts. Your insides will squirm deliciously as your flesh laps up its medicine. You will try to moan and squeal and mewl to let me know how much my mare is in heat. But all you will manage is to sputter and gargle on the gag. All the while I will plow deep into you. *slap, slap, slap*. Thigh striking thigh. Eliciting guttural angry frustrated sounds from your muffled throat as you try and fail to express the extent of your arousal.

But I trust that my girl will manage to express herself. I taught her well. *slap slap slap*. Your pussy will cream on my cock, your body writhing against my restraints. Your moans will fill the room like the musk of our sweat. *slap slap slap*. The flesh of your ass will ripple as I ream your pussy. Deep down you will know that release is but a reach away. No, not a superficial orgasm – but deep emotional release – the undoing of knots of the mind left by propriety. As my good girl’s body hurts in delicious pleasure, you will finally reach out with your confession. Gagged and tied and clamped, your throat will struggle against its restraint. Abused anus weeping lube, and abused pussy weeping cum, your lips will finally sputter and spit mangled sounds.

And yet your enunciation of that incoherent mess in delirious arousal will leave nothing to the imagination.

*I am your whore! I am worthless! Fill me, sir! Give me your pain, sir. Use my body. I will take what you give me. Make me remember what my flesh already knows. I am a piece of meat. To be owned and consumed. I don’t know how! Own me and consume me!*

Some thoughts are prettier left unsaid. Only some.

—

*Please also note that derogatory language is intended only for partners who expect it. Do not begin calling your Bumble date a worthless fuck toy at Olive Garden before they even serve breadsticks.*

[*A repository of my other writings*](

NSFW: yes

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