I Love To Write Naughty Sexy Stories
[b][i][u][big]That was Fun[/big][/u][/i][/b]
[b][i]
Journal Entry
I regard her, rapt, uncaring of how visible the desire in my gaze is. I know it makes her uneasy, but she impressively doesn’t shy away, just returns my stare, her eyes wide, scared but determined. I’m not about to ask if she’s sure, but part of me feels like I should. I know she wouldn’t want that, though. She told me what she wanted: I want to be forced to take something I don’t want. I know you’d enjoy destroying me. Fuck is she right. Abruptly, I stand from where I’d been seated in my computer chair and yank her by the collar of her shirt to stand from where she’d been seated on the edge of my bed. She sways a bit, briefly, with the unexpected motion, and I can feel her rapid heartbeat under the heel of my palm through the thin cotton of her T-shirt. She’s so worked up already. What does she think is going to happen? I want to insist on a safeword, but she told me she doesn’t want one. She’s trembling.
“I changed my mind,” I whisper in a voice that sounds rough even to my own ears. Guess I’m pretty worked up too.
She doesn’t say anything, just looks profoundly confused, and maybe a bit disappointed.
“About the safeword,” I continue in the same voice. Before she can protest, I reason, “If you don’t have one, I’ll stop when you show the first sign of distress. I don’t think you want that.” It comes out sounding surprisingly like a threat, which makes the corners of my mouth flick up in amusement.
She acquiesces with a shiver and a nod. “Virgivitiphobia.”
I huff a soft laugh. “Clever. Bit long though.”
She glances pointedly at my fly. “I think I can handle it.”
I flash the cheeky brat a brief, genuine grin. I yank her shirt where I’m gripping it to throw her down onto the bed, but change my mind at the last second, and shove her onto the floor instead. She wasn’t ready, and her hands didn’t come up fast enough, so she hits her head on the wood with a loud thunk. She squints and gets herself up on one elbow, rubbing the sore spot on her head with her other hand. I want to ask if she’s okay, even though I think she is, but I know that wouldn’t be in keeping with the role, so I decide to just trust her to tell me if she isn’t, as long as she’s clearly conscious and capable. It strikes me suddenly how much I’m trusting her. I straddle her thighs and grab the collar of her shirt with both hands and tear it with a strtchstch roughly down the middle. She’s not wearing a bra, which isn’t a surprise; she seems to hardly ever wear any kind of underwear. Sometimes I wish she did, though; lingerie can be really sexy, especially the few times I’ve seen her wear it. It isn’t really something I can request of her as just a friend, though. I pinch her nipples harshly, and she sucks in a sharp breath, then lets it out in a moan as I twist them just as sharply. I push the fabric of her shirt the rest of the way off her, as she just lies prone on the floor, trembling but otherwise motionless, obedient. “Good girl,” I praise as usual, before leaning down to suck one of her breasts into my mouth and then slowly pulling back while maintaining suction until only her nipple remains in my mouth, at which point I bite down hard. Probably the hardest I’ve ever bitten. “Ah! Oww,” she cries out. I taste blood. I give the exact same treatment to her other one, then lean back to admire my work. Her face is contorted in pain, but there are no tears. There are unmistakeable twin indents around her nipples that glisten finely with bright blood in the dim light provided by my desk lamp. I grin down at her and smack each of her tits. She grits her teeth against any sound, glaring up at me. I smack her hard across the face, not missing the way she brings her thighs closer together underneath me to squeeze them against each other. She fucking loves it when I slap her face. I do it again, and again, and again and again and again all on the same cheek. “Think you’re so in control, little bitch?” Smack. “Not making any fucking –” Smack. “- sound?” Smack. I fist my other hand in her short hair and yank it back roughly, exposing her throat, which I stop smacking her to wrap my hand around, firmly but not tightly. “Answer me,” I growl.
She’s shaking and squirming. She swallows before answering, and I can feel the motion under my hand. “Am – Am I not being a good girl for you, Daddy?”
Shit, my erection actually hurts now. I fucking love it when she calls me that, and we both know it. “Such a good girl.” Jesus, my voice is so raspy. I sound absolutely wrecked. “A little too good. Taking everything so bravely. But Daddy wants to see you cry, baby.” I know she wants that too. She’s got a ridiculous pain tolerance, though. Crossing it might require something extreme – like, really extreme. She’s never cried from a scene before, and she’s apparently been caned, flogged, cut, kicked, and who even knows or cares what else. “Think you’re gonna cry for Daddy?”
“Um,” she says against a smile. “Probably not.”
I grin wickedly. “Oh, I think you will.” Though I’m not quite sure how yet. I pop open the button on her fly and undo the zipper, then yank her jeans down and off her legs. I leave her fuzzy socks on, as I know she prefers, and neither of us mentions it. She might not even notice that I left them deliberately. I notice her gazing at my shirt, running her focus down my body, and I can’t tell whether she wants me naked as well or if she finds the disparity between our states of undress hot. I decide (or hope) it’s the latter, and leave my clothes as they are. Without warning I plunge two fingers right into her. She’s usually very tight, almost too tight for anything more than one finger at first, but she’s so wet and naturally stretched from arousal that this time they both slip right in. I chuckle. “What a slutty little cunt. You’re so wet for Daddy, baby. You feel how wet your little pussy is?” When she doesn’t answer, I jab my fingers all the way into her small pussy and she shouts, “Fuck!” I ease my fingers partway out and thrust them gently. “Answer me when I ask you a question, slut.”
I feel her clenching around my fingers. “Y- Yes, Daddy. I’m your little slut. So wet for you. Want you so bad. Please.”
“Please what?”
She whimpers. “Please fuck me.”
I remove my fingers to relieve myself of my jeans and boxers and tell her to get on all fours, facing away. I shuffle forward on my knees to guide my tip to her dripping entrance, teasing. “Where do you want me to fuck you?”
“Um. Here?” Cheeky bitch.
“Hmm, not specific enough. Guess I’ll choose then.” I want to be forced to take something I don’t want. She likes anal, but usually she’s been opened up enough to take at least three fingers first, and there’s always copious lube. Right now, the tip of my cock is only slightly lubricated from where it’s been rubbing against her and she hasn’t been stretched at all. Probably before she can even fully register what I’m doing, I guide my ample cock into her unprepared ass and thrust about halfway in. She howls in pain, then starts shaking and sobbing. I did it. I made her cry. I wait for her safeword, but she just continues crying. I wish I could see her face, for various reasons. I’m turned on, but also concerned. Obviously I hurt her, but how badly? I glance down, and pull out about an inch, expecting to see some blood. Very, very surprisingly, there is none. I start rocking my hips shallowly, and judging from how her cries change it must be excruciating. Fuck, I really want to see her face. I smack her on the ass hard, just once, as I pull out with a pop. I spread her cheeks to inspect her hole. There is a tiny trickle of blood. Would it be safe to continue? I’m clean, but it still doesn’t seem wise. What if I tear her insides or something? It isn't worth the risk. I pick her up bridal style and dump her onto the bed on her back. She’s still crying and shaking and won’t even open her eyes. I wonder if I should continue. She hasn’t safeworded, and neither of us has come. Can she safeword, though? She’s clearly conscious, but is she capable? I look down at my hard, pulsing cock. I inspect it for blood, but find none. I guide it into her pussy, which I’m surprised to find even wetter than before, and lift her legs up to bring them around my waist as I fuck her deep and hard and fast. Her cries stutter as she tries to catch her breath as it’s repeatedly knocked out of her by both her sobbing and the feral pounding I’m giving her. Just as I feel myself about to come, she clamps down on me like a vice and a hoarse cry rips from her throat. She’s shaking from her orgasm as I bury myself to the hilt inside her, which I know hurts her since she’s so small and frail and I have to clench my eyes shut as I release inside her for what feels like a beautifully long time. I catch my breath and exhale sharply once I’ve finished. I open my eyes to look down at her. Her eyes are still closed, her eyelashes stuck together with tears, the tracks of which also adorn her face. I lean down to kiss her mouth, and she reciprocates with pliant lips and languid tongue. Eventually I begin to soften, and I pull out and lay down next to her, wrapping an arm under her neck and around her shoulder. We’re both silent for a while, and it’s comfortable, at least for me.
She breaks the silence finally with a whispered, “What’s wrong with me?”
I quickly turn my head in surprise to see the side profile of her face. Her tears have stopped, dried on her face. “Nothing,” I answer with conviction. “You’re so good. Such a good girl,” I try to reassure her. “Why would you ever ask something like that?”
Her voice is small, ashamed, when she answers, “It hurt so much. And I got off on it.”
I have to restrain myself from laughing. It isn’t exactly news that she gets off on me hurting her. “That… isn’t exactly new to either of us...”
“No, this was… this was different. The actual sex hurt. I half wanted to stop, but I also didn’t… I wanted the pain to stop, but I – I liked how much power you had over me. I – I hated it, but –”
“But you liked how much you hated it. You liked that I was using you entirely for my own pleasure, completely heedless of your pain.”
“… Exactly.”
“No need to sound so sad about it. This was your first time exploring your rape fantasy?”
She flinches. Maybe I should have used a different word. “… Yes.”
I kiss the top of her head and pull her closer against me. “Well,” I try to assure her, “You did really well. It was risky, I admit; I actually shouldn’t have gone ass to cunt, but I figured you probably did a thorough, obsessive cleaning,” I tease her.
“I did. Still, though… Yeah, that probably wasn’t wise. I should’ve safeworded at that, I guess.”
“No, that was my mistake. Though, speaking of… Were you capable of safewording, or were you in too much shock?”
“No, I was okay.” She wraps her arms around me. “I love you, Daddy.”
It’s a moment of true candidness. I don’t know what to say, but fortunately I don’t have to say anything, for she has already fallen asleep. I hold her all night, and don't give any thought to those three words and the fact that I will never return them.
~Master~
[/i][/b]
[b][i]
Journal Entry
I regard her, rapt, uncaring of how visible the desire in my gaze is. I know it makes her uneasy, but she impressively doesn’t shy away, just returns my stare, her eyes wide, scared but determined. I’m not about to ask if she’s sure, but part of me feels like I should. I know she wouldn’t want that, though. She told me what she wanted: I want to be forced to take something I don’t want. I know you’d enjoy destroying me. Fuck is she right. Abruptly, I stand from where I’d been seated in my computer chair and yank her by the collar of her shirt to stand from where she’d been seated on the edge of my bed. She sways a bit, briefly, with the unexpected motion, and I can feel her rapid heartbeat under the heel of my palm through the thin cotton of her T-shirt. She’s so worked up already. What does she think is going to happen? I want to insist on a safeword, but she told me she doesn’t want one. She’s trembling.
“I changed my mind,” I whisper in a voice that sounds rough even to my own ears. Guess I’m pretty worked up too.
She doesn’t say anything, just looks profoundly confused, and maybe a bit disappointed.
“About the safeword,” I continue in the same voice. Before she can protest, I reason, “If you don’t have one, I’ll stop when you show the first sign of distress. I don’t think you want that.” It comes out sounding surprisingly like a threat, which makes the corners of my mouth flick up in amusement.
She acquiesces with a shiver and a nod. “Virgivitiphobia.”
I huff a soft laugh. “Clever. Bit long though.”
She glances pointedly at my fly. “I think I can handle it.”
I flash the cheeky brat a brief, genuine grin. I yank her shirt where I’m gripping it to throw her down onto the bed, but change my mind at the last second, and shove her onto the floor instead. She wasn’t ready, and her hands didn’t come up fast enough, so she hits her head on the wood with a loud thunk. She squints and gets herself up on one elbow, rubbing the sore spot on her head with her other hand. I want to ask if she’s okay, even though I think she is, but I know that wouldn’t be in keeping with the role, so I decide to just trust her to tell me if she isn’t, as long as she’s clearly conscious and capable. It strikes me suddenly how much I’m trusting her. I straddle her thighs and grab the collar of her shirt with both hands and tear it with a strtchstch roughly down the middle. She’s not wearing a bra, which isn’t a surprise; she seems to hardly ever wear any kind of underwear. Sometimes I wish she did, though; lingerie can be really sexy, especially the few times I’ve seen her wear it. It isn’t really something I can request of her as just a friend, though. I pinch her nipples harshly, and she sucks in a sharp breath, then lets it out in a moan as I twist them just as sharply. I push the fabric of her shirt the rest of the way off her, as she just lies prone on the floor, trembling but otherwise motionless, obedient. “Good girl,” I praise as usual, before leaning down to suck one of her breasts into my mouth and then slowly pulling back while maintaining suction until only her nipple remains in my mouth, at which point I bite down hard. Probably the hardest I’ve ever bitten. “Ah! Oww,” she cries out. I taste blood. I give the exact same treatment to her other one, then lean back to admire my work. Her face is contorted in pain, but there are no tears. There are unmistakeable twin indents around her nipples that glisten finely with bright blood in the dim light provided by my desk lamp. I grin down at her and smack each of her tits. She grits her teeth against any sound, glaring up at me. I smack her hard across the face, not missing the way she brings her thighs closer together underneath me to squeeze them against each other. She fucking loves it when I slap her face. I do it again, and again, and again and again and again all on the same cheek. “Think you’re so in control, little bitch?” Smack. “Not making any fucking –” Smack. “- sound?” Smack. I fist my other hand in her short hair and yank it back roughly, exposing her throat, which I stop smacking her to wrap my hand around, firmly but not tightly. “Answer me,” I growl.
She’s shaking and squirming. She swallows before answering, and I can feel the motion under my hand. “Am – Am I not being a good girl for you, Daddy?”
Shit, my erection actually hurts now. I fucking love it when she calls me that, and we both know it. “Such a good girl.” Jesus, my voice is so raspy. I sound absolutely wrecked. “A little too good. Taking everything so bravely. But Daddy wants to see you cry, baby.” I know she wants that too. She’s got a ridiculous pain tolerance, though. Crossing it might require something extreme – like, really extreme. She’s never cried from a scene before, and she’s apparently been caned, flogged, cut, kicked, and who even knows or cares what else. “Think you’re gonna cry for Daddy?”
“Um,” she says against a smile. “Probably not.”
I grin wickedly. “Oh, I think you will.” Though I’m not quite sure how yet. I pop open the button on her fly and undo the zipper, then yank her jeans down and off her legs. I leave her fuzzy socks on, as I know she prefers, and neither of us mentions it. She might not even notice that I left them deliberately. I notice her gazing at my shirt, running her focus down my body, and I can’t tell whether she wants me naked as well or if she finds the disparity between our states of undress hot. I decide (or hope) it’s the latter, and leave my clothes as they are. Without warning I plunge two fingers right into her. She’s usually very tight, almost too tight for anything more than one finger at first, but she’s so wet and naturally stretched from arousal that this time they both slip right in. I chuckle. “What a slutty little cunt. You’re so wet for Daddy, baby. You feel how wet your little pussy is?” When she doesn’t answer, I jab my fingers all the way into her small pussy and she shouts, “Fuck!” I ease my fingers partway out and thrust them gently. “Answer me when I ask you a question, slut.”
I feel her clenching around my fingers. “Y- Yes, Daddy. I’m your little slut. So wet for you. Want you so bad. Please.”
“Please what?”
She whimpers. “Please fuck me.”
I remove my fingers to relieve myself of my jeans and boxers and tell her to get on all fours, facing away. I shuffle forward on my knees to guide my tip to her dripping entrance, teasing. “Where do you want me to fuck you?”
“Um. Here?” Cheeky bitch.
“Hmm, not specific enough. Guess I’ll choose then.” I want to be forced to take something I don’t want. She likes anal, but usually she’s been opened up enough to take at least three fingers first, and there’s always copious lube. Right now, the tip of my cock is only slightly lubricated from where it’s been rubbing against her and she hasn’t been stretched at all. Probably before she can even fully register what I’m doing, I guide my ample cock into her unprepared ass and thrust about halfway in. She howls in pain, then starts shaking and sobbing. I did it. I made her cry. I wait for her safeword, but she just continues crying. I wish I could see her face, for various reasons. I’m turned on, but also concerned. Obviously I hurt her, but how badly? I glance down, and pull out about an inch, expecting to see some blood. Very, very surprisingly, there is none. I start rocking my hips shallowly, and judging from how her cries change it must be excruciating. Fuck, I really want to see her face. I smack her on the ass hard, just once, as I pull out with a pop. I spread her cheeks to inspect her hole. There is a tiny trickle of blood. Would it be safe to continue? I’m clean, but it still doesn’t seem wise. What if I tear her insides or something? It isn't worth the risk. I pick her up bridal style and dump her onto the bed on her back. She’s still crying and shaking and won’t even open her eyes. I wonder if I should continue. She hasn’t safeworded, and neither of us has come. Can she safeword, though? She’s clearly conscious, but is she capable? I look down at my hard, pulsing cock. I inspect it for blood, but find none. I guide it into her pussy, which I’m surprised to find even wetter than before, and lift her legs up to bring them around my waist as I fuck her deep and hard and fast. Her cries stutter as she tries to catch her breath as it’s repeatedly knocked out of her by both her sobbing and the feral pounding I’m giving her. Just as I feel myself about to come, she clamps down on me like a vice and a hoarse cry rips from her throat. She’s shaking from her orgasm as I bury myself to the hilt inside her, which I know hurts her since she’s so small and frail and I have to clench my eyes shut as I release inside her for what feels like a beautifully long time. I catch my breath and exhale sharply once I’ve finished. I open my eyes to look down at her. Her eyes are still closed, her eyelashes stuck together with tears, the tracks of which also adorn her face. I lean down to kiss her mouth, and she reciprocates with pliant lips and languid tongue. Eventually I begin to soften, and I pull out and lay down next to her, wrapping an arm under her neck and around her shoulder. We’re both silent for a while, and it’s comfortable, at least for me.
She breaks the silence finally with a whispered, “What’s wrong with me?”
I quickly turn my head in surprise to see the side profile of her face. Her tears have stopped, dried on her face. “Nothing,” I answer with conviction. “You’re so good. Such a good girl,” I try to reassure her. “Why would you ever ask something like that?”
Her voice is small, ashamed, when she answers, “It hurt so much. And I got off on it.”
I have to restrain myself from laughing. It isn’t exactly news that she gets off on me hurting her. “That… isn’t exactly new to either of us...”
“No, this was… this was different. The actual sex hurt. I half wanted to stop, but I also didn’t… I wanted the pain to stop, but I – I liked how much power you had over me. I – I hated it, but –”
“But you liked how much you hated it. You liked that I was using you entirely for my own pleasure, completely heedless of your pain.”
“… Exactly.”
“No need to sound so sad about it. This was your first time exploring your rape fantasy?”
She flinches. Maybe I should have used a different word. “… Yes.”
I kiss the top of her head and pull her closer against me. “Well,” I try to assure her, “You did really well. It was risky, I admit; I actually shouldn’t have gone ass to cunt, but I figured you probably did a thorough, obsessive cleaning,” I tease her.
“I did. Still, though… Yeah, that probably wasn’t wise. I should’ve safeworded at that, I guess.”
“No, that was my mistake. Though, speaking of… Were you capable of safewording, or were you in too much shock?”
“No, I was okay.” She wraps her arms around me. “I love you, Daddy.”
It’s a moment of true candidness. I don’t know what to say, but fortunately I don’t have to say anything, for she has already fallen asleep. I hold her all night, and don't give any thought to those three words and the fact that I will never return them.
~Master~
[/i][/b]
70-79, M
