Making Sure She Knows Her Place

Making sure she knows her place <3

Credit: bysophia_xx on reddit

spreading myself open for him as he strokes himself and watches me until he cums all over my pretty pussy

Being forced to ride until your legs give out, forced to keep going up and down, as they hold onto your waist „is that all? I’ll never cum at that pace“ as you have to keep going and keep going, even when your muscles and legs ache :3

my bratty side is currently at war with the part of my brain that is just so so so desperate to be a good boy and be praised, it's unreal. like, I wanna piss you off until you've had enough of putting up with my bullshit and you fuck and bite and slap and scratch and breed your frustration out on me. but also I want to be praised and pet and called a good boy and told how good I'm doing while I desperately suck you off.

Oh, what I’d give right now to take a nap in my favourite sheets, lying on my tummy in a soft top and skimpy panties that'd feel so good against my skin, one leg all hitched up so I could rub myself against the sheets juuust that little bit, just to keep that tiny spark of arousal going, getting all fuzzy from being wet and sleepy.

I bet I’d dream of you, dream of you finally getting home, of you seeing how good I’ve been, seeing how ready I am for you, just from thinking about you.

I bet you’d smell me by the time you’d finally walk into the room, heady and intoxicating, and you’d remember what I tasted like when you made me scream from your tongue just the night before. You can smell me right now, can’t you?

You’d chuckle, knowing how dilated my pupils must’ve been when I put on those panties to lie down, seeing my pussy peeking out of them all puffy and rosy.

I bet you’d take your sweet time making sure everything is the way it’s supposed to be, making sure I was good and did what you asked me to do before you went out. You’d be pleased to see how well I did but even more pleased to see one tiny mistake, not even hidden too well, in the middle of the living room. You know exactly what I need, always, don’t you?

So I know that you’d make your way to the bedroom, quietly, softly as not to wake me. You wouldn’t undress, you’d only open your belt, take out your cock, and start checking just how wet I am.

I’d be so swollen that my lips would be slightly parted, clit peeking out, blooming just for you what is usually perfectly hidden. You’d trace a finger through me to gather some slick, smearing it over your head, already red, already hard.

You’d take my cheeks in hand, you’d caress them, spread them apart, relish in the clicky-sounding smack my folds make when they are parted, all sticky. I’d shift my hips, my dream getting more intense, spreading myself apart for you in my haze.

You wouldn’t be able to keep yourself from licking me, just once, just to make sure I taste exactly like you remember, but I’d taste even better, wouldn’t I? Because I never cleaned myself up after taking your load just before you went out three hours ago. You didn’t have to ask me not to, I knew. I always know, don’t I? You’ve trained me well.

You’d take a moment to contemplate what to do, how to enjoy me, but in the end, you decide to be kind. You’d take my hips in hand, lift my butt just so and you’d caress my pussy with your cockhead, once, twice, before slowly pressing in, just the tip. Just the tip so you could revel in the hitch of my breath and my little moans, revel in the way I’d fidget in my sleep, accidentally fucking myself on your cock, back and forth with little twitches of my hips, massaging you so delicately.

You’d refrain from looking at where I’m slowly opening up around you, my entrance dragging back and forth, just to see my brows furrowed, to see my plush lips open around my gasps, to see my eyes flutter open. You’d groan seeing my confused look, my dumb brain not catching up, not understanding the sensations just yet.

You’d wait for the exact moment I’d meet your eyes before finally sinking home in one thrust, too deep, too fast, just how I like it. You wouldn’t wait for me to understand, wouldn’t even wait for me to gasp before starting to fuck me into me, rough, fast, loving the slick sounds of my cunt, my pleas of "s' too much, please" "no, no, don't" when you hit all the right places.

I’d squirm around you, trying to get away from the overwhelming feeling, confused still and sleepy, but you’d hold me in place, no effort at all, you’d pin me down with one hand on the small of my back and fuck and fuck and fuck into me until I’d be nothing but a teary mess, begging so sweetly, so desperately.

I’d be on the verge of coming and you’d know, you’d know because of how I’d clench and flutter around you, you'd know because of how my thighs would tense up, taut and how I’d be begging “please, please I need… I can’t… Sir, please let me, please, I’ve been so good Sir”. And you’d know that I don’t have permission to come.

You’d know and that is exactly why you’d choose that moment to pull out and slap my cunt so hard that I couldn’t help but come, and you’d chuckle at knowing that you’d ruined it by pulling out, ruined it by not saying a word, ruined it by not burying yourself deep into that pussy and shooting your load so violently I’d’ve come all over again.

Instead, you’d turn me around, grabbing your cock and stroking yourself to the view of my tears, my devastation and you’d come at the sight of my devotion, thick ropes covering my teary lashes and drooly lips, heaving softly.

“Good girl.”

say it with me now: it’s not kink that’s the problem, it’s rape culture.

it’s not fetish or attraction to specific traits that’s the problem, it’s rape culture.

it goes beyond kink. it’s an issue in even the ‘purest,’ most tame, vanilla spaces. name it for what it really is.

it’s rape culture.