Blindfold - Tumblr Posts - Page 2
blindfolds are so hot, and i'm thinking about all the humiliation opportunities 😳😳😳
you can't see that they're taking photos of you while they fuck you, and every now and then you find new slutty photos you didn't know were taken of you when you go to check your camera roll.
being blindfolded by ur dom before they start doing That Thing That Makes You Whimper, and having no clue they've got the audio recorder on their phone open on the nightstand,, not until they send it to your friends for them to tease and mock you with.
being entirely unsure of what they're going to do next, and hearing them laugh at you as they play with your tcock and alternate between soft and mind numbing strokes and harsh stinging slaps, delighting in how fun it is to watch you gasp and squirm when your pleasure is interrupted.
trying not to melt under their attention, listening to them describe in detail how you look right now, so pathetic and desperate for something to fill you up. it's too bad you can't see yourself, i guess you'll need me to tell you everything.
uhm. does anyone wanna blindfold me?
I want a dom to film me while they fuck me blindfolded. My whimpers and moans and slutty chanting unknowingly caught on video. They send me clips unexpectedly that send shivers down my spine and tingles to my cock at the memory. My voice slurred by mindless arousal, repeating, "I'm a good boy, I'm a good boy, I'm a good boy," while my hard, wet cock is being rubbed back and forth. Another of me spreading my fucked out holes while moaning, "please fuck my greedy holes, please play with your needy toy, please, please, please." another of me yelling, "thankyou-thankyou-thankyousomuch" while they spank my cock as I cum. The last one of them pushing up the blindfold and spitting in my open mouth, watching me look past the camera at them as they push their cock into my drooling mouth. Along with their message, "we should do this again."
Can I please join next time? Finally a tied up dungaree! Mega sexy........
Can I please join next time? Finally a tied up dungaree! Mega sexy........
blindfold / tortured for information / hit them harder (I tend to deflect when I’m feeling threatened)
alternate take on Ballad of Fallen Angels
TW: torture, abuse
At first she was grateful for the blindfold. It kept her from having to see the harrowing visage of the pale haired man who had sat beside her in the opera and named himself Vicious.
It did not keep her mind from resurrecting the image burnt into her mind of the sallow faced man on her other side with the garish crimson splatter all across his slit neck and up to his cheeks. The force of the cut that would have unleashed such a spray back upon the victim made her shiver.
Her mind was racing. It was not the first time she'd been bound and gagged, although they hadn't bothered to gag her. Her own horror kept her tongue still as she did her best to pay attention to the sounds she could hear and the things she could feel. They led her into a zip craft and let her trip over the entrance. No one moved to help her rise and, with her hands tied behind her back with a rough bit of rope, she could only roll from the way she'd landed - on her knees and chin, scraping both on the carpet of the craft - to a position on her side.
No one spoke as the vehicle brought them on a short flight and then came down to land. It was impossible to gauge what direction they'd gone but at least she knew she was still on Mars and likely still in Tharsis.
Someone kicked her to roll her towards the door and abruptly she was dropping the foot or so to the ground. Cold concrete met her exposed skin and she shivered anew. The ground was damp and the air smelled... like dirt and mold and old wood left to rot. They had to be somewhere abandoned. A warehouse perhaps? The caw of birds made her think perhaps it was a cabin far from the city proper.
She was grabbed by the shoulders and hoisted to her feet and then the butt of a gun hit the small of her back, making her cringe but also making her advance under her own power. Taking tentative, shuffling steps she moved in the direction that the guards at either side were leading her. She had no idea how many people were in this silent procession, no idea how many opponents she would have to face off against to break herself free.
This was not the first time she'd been bound and hustled off somewhere secretive, but it was by far the most frightening time so far. In every other instance, she'd had something in her favor. There was nothing she could count on now. She'd foolishly left the bracelet that could summon her RedTail because it hadn't gone with the gloves she'd donned for the outfit she wore to the opera house. How ridiculous she felt now! Everything about what happened to her screamed of a trap, but she'd gone in blindly because she hadn't detected any risk to going after a syndicate bounty. Idiotic, in retrospect. Syndicates handled their own business privately. The woolongs he was worth had been enticing enough that she'd conveniently ignored that simple fact.
And now she was being led into somewhere cavernous. So not a cabin. But also not a natural cave, no, merely a place so large and empty that she could hear the echoes of her own footfalls along with the steady steps of at least five other men. Too many to take out without the use of her hands or at least without visual knowledge of where they were stationed in relation to herself.
The open handed slap was so unexpected that she went sprawling in the direction the momentum of the movement sent her. Careening into something long and hard and wood. Her right shoulder protested the sudden impact as it took the brunt of her fall onto the... bench? The wood groaned as someone heaved it, either by a strong kick or with their arms, and sent her rolling over the back rest as the piece of furniture was tipped onto its side. And then she was being picked up by the shoulders again.
She kicked out angrily, hoping that her sharp-toed shoes would meet suit-clad legs. If not the toe, then the heel would suffice. But her foot only swung in the air and not nearly as wide of an attack as she'd like to have unleashed given the constriction of the dress she wore. Another foolish move. But she had been trying to broadcast a very specific appearance! It was the whole reason she'd gone to the rental shop and thrift store. The jewelry she'd simply swiped when the attendant at the thrift shop had been busy with another customer, but the dress she'd actually put a deposit down to rent because she assumed she'd be able to return it within a few hours and get her money back.
Obviously that was not gonna happen.
She was manhandled over to a pillar or pole of some sort, stone or marble perhaps but chipped. This gave her a flash of hope. The rope, which had been bound so tightly around her wrists that she hadn't had feeling in her fingers for a bit now, could be frayed if she was able to access a sharp enough section of the crumbling structure that she was being pressed against. But the hope died as one of the men cut the bond keeping her hands joined and wrenched her arms apart so they could be affixed to something higher up on the pillar. Her arms were tied up over her head now, just high enough where she had to stand on her tip toes to keep pressure off her chafed wrists. She was arrayed in a martyr position and felt her heartbeat quicken at the symbolism implied.
"Where is Spike Spiegel?" One of the men asked.
Faye decided to play dumb. "Who?"
Pain exploded in her cheek as the man - or perhaps a different man - hit her on the opposite side of where she'd been slapped not long ago.
"Don't be coy, Miss Valentine. Give us the answers we seek and this can all be over."
She smiled grimly. "I certainly wish I could help you gentlemen," She said placatingly. "Unfortunately, I just don't know-"
Her words cut off as a punch landed just above her stomach, knocking her breath from her body. Another blow landed before she could even try to say anything else.
"Hit her harder," A cold voice intoned.
The barrage continued until she lost count of how many times she'd been hit. She would be bruised for days after this, assuming she survived. As it stood, she was beginning to doubt the odds. That ace of spades card she'd picked up before leaving the ship suddenly took on a very personal ominous tone.
"Well, Miss Valentine? Have you anything to offer us now?"
She gave a racking laugh and spat some blood onto the floor or hopefully onto one of their shoes or pants. The bastard that had punched her face had managed to split her lip and the coppery tang of blood in her mouth was a stark reminder that she was on her own in life. Why was she being deceitful anyway? To protect Spike? Clearly the trap had been meant for him. No wonder he'd been acting so odd on the ship.
"Sorry, boys" She wheezed. "I'd love to be more helpful... the truth is I just don't know. He left before I did. Probably sensed you assholes lurking in the periphery, you know? He's pretty astute and you lot seem... more brutish than clever, that's for sure." What was she doing? Well, being honest for one thing which was never smart when you could lie or mislead. But to antagonize them further? She did tend to deflect when feeling threatened but this was not the way to deflect. If anything it was an invitation to further harassment.
Suddenly there was a man in front of her, she could sense his presence from the slight breeze of wind from his movement and from the cologne that was suddenly choking her as much as the punches had left her breathless. Hands gripped her dress between her knees and ripped the fabric in one powerful move. And then she became aware of two other men, one on each side of her, as they grappled with her wildly kicking legs. Once freed from the fabric, and terrified at the implication of the destruction of her garb, she had begun kicking with everything in her. She managed to connect half a dozen times at least before the men were able to pin her legs to the pillar and begin wrapping rope around her ankles to hold her legs splayed open.
Her breath came in desperate pants as she strove to maintain a semblance of calm when everything inside of her was screaming in panic.
An icy hand trailed up from her right knee, skittering close to the lacy underwear she'd donned to complete the fashionista image - despite never intending anyone to be aware of the parts hidden from the eye - and roamed up over her ribs. The places where punches had landed were aching and this callous hand was pressing the pain harder into her body with every portion of her that he touched.
"This will do." It was the cold voice again. Vicious himself. She could practically hear the self-satisfied grin in his next words. "We're well aware of the location of Mr. Spiegel," he told her. "Thanks to you, and your demanding nature, we were able to glean all we needed from your zip craft. I did not feel like meeting an old friend there, on some rusty fish-rank vessel moored in the harbor. No, no. The stage is set nicely for a reunion here, under the watchful eyes of the angels and God that do not and have never existed. Why go to Spike when I could invite him to meet me at the place of my choosing? Yes, far better this way. And you, my dear,"
Her skin crawled as he brought his hand to trail from her temple down to her chin.
He chuckled darkly. "You, my dear, will be the impetus that brings him here." A pause. "Remove her blindfold. I want him to see the fear in her eyes."