Ropes, My Beloved

Ropes, my beloved

the line between praise and condescension/degradation is so thin, and i plan to drive a boy insane by using it as a jump rope.

“you’re such a pretty, dumb little thing, aren’t you?”

“so gorgeous… you were truly made to be my little slut, weren’t you?”

“look at you, drooling and whining. so pathetic, it’s adorable.”

“you’re crying already? thought you said you could handle it, acting all big and strong earlier, just to turn into crying mess, so disappointing, thought you could handle a lot more. you look absolutely gorgeous when you cry, though, sweetheart, so i’ll just have to carry on.”

“so whiney… you can barely even get a word out anymore, can you? it’s okay, sweetheart, whores don’t need to think. just focus on being an good boy for me.”

“such pretty noises… you’re so pretty when you beg me to stop. you don’t really want me to, do you? clinging to me so hard, i bet you’d cry if pulled away… aw, look at you, tears already welling up. your eyes are so pretty, doll, makes me want to fuck you harder. don’t even know what you want, hm? i just know what’s better for you, so just focus on staying so pretty and loud for me. such a pathetic, dumb little thing.”

love having a girl sat in my lap with my palm on the small of her back while i play with her tits and suck bruises into her chest. no matter how much the overstimulation makes her writhe and jerk she just keeps ending up back in my grasp, hands seeking purchase and just pulling me closer, whimpers just spurring me to bite a little harder, press my tongue a little firmer, draw a little blood before i let go. good position to make a girl feel helpless