Masturbation Monday: “Fluff”

Content note: this one contains cuckquean fantasy and pretty intense sexual degredation. All parties in this scenario are consenting adults.

A black and white close up of a padlock and claim on the door of a cage. For a Masturbation Monday story called FluffI never know quite who he’s going to bring home. His tastes are wide and varied. One week, a curvaceous redhead covered in tattoos. The next, a tall, slender girl with boobs to die for. Yet another week, the one who looked like she’d stepped out of a 1950s pin-up centrefold. I think he likes to keep me guessing as well as keep things interesting for himself.

A surprising number of women go for what he’s offering… I think it’s because he goes for the more Dominant ones who relish the idea of tormenting a stupid little fucktoy like me.

I hear the door go, and hold my breath. Yes, definitely two of them. I count the steps as they come up the stairs, my heart beating faster. I’ve been locked in my cage in the corner of our bedroom, naked except for my steel chastity belt, all evening – as I always am when he goes out to find someone to fuck. A short distance away, the key sits – for emergencies only, of course, in case the house catches fire or something.

If you ever use it when it’s not an emergency, I will know,” he warned me each time he locked me in. “And you’ll be in for a world of punishment.” I never do. I like sitting here, my cunt getting wetter and wetter with anticipation, waiting for him to come home.

The door opens. He comes in first, my ridiculously beautiful Master, his long hair released from its ponytail and his tie loosened. She follows, and I exhale as I get my first glimpse of her. She’s a brunette, petite, only up to his shoulder even in her heels, her little red dress – the same shade as her lipstick – showing off every inch of fabulous curves.

“Such a good pet, waiting in its cage for you to get home,” she coos, looking over at me. “Is it really going to watch while you fuck me?”

“Mm-hmm. It likes it, too.”

My cunt pulses. I love the objectification of being referred to like this, spoken of not as her but as it. My locked-up hole clenches again when I watch my husband – my Master – grab this beautiful woman and kiss her passionately. She moans into his mouth. His hands find their way first to her breasts, squeezing and massaging, and then to her ass, pulling her in closer to him. I’m not jealous. I know it’s me he really loves, and he only does this because of how much it turns us both on. But god, I’m envious when he pulls up her dress, slides a hand between her legs and rubs her. My own cunt hasn’t felt anything but cold, unrelenting steel for weeks.

She moans, writhing against his touch. He kisses her again. She must hear my whimper, because she giggles and breaks away from him, coming over to my cage.

“When I worked in porn, we had staff whose job was to get the guys hard before they fucked. They called them fluffers.” She kneels before the cage, looking in at me through the bars, turning her attention from my Master to me. “What do you think, little fucktoy? Want to fluff your husband so he can fuck me while you watch?”

I look at her, wide-eyed, and then glance at Master. I am not allowed to speak unless given permission.

“You may speak. Respectfully.”

“Yes please, Miss.” My voice is barely above a whisper.

“Ask nicely,” she taunts. “Maybe we’ll even let you out of that cage if we do a good enough job. On second thoughts, no. Pathetic cunts don’t get their pathetic holes played with.”

I look imploringly up at my Master, who has moved over to stand beside his new friend. “Please, Master, can I suck your cock until it’s hard enough for you to fuck Miss?”

“What do you think?” she asks him.

“Well, since it asked so nicely…” he unzips the fly of his jeans and pulls out his cock. It’s semi-erect already. He shoves it between the bars of the cage, and I open my mouth eagerly to receive it. I take him deeply into my throat, whimpering quietly, flicking my tongue over the head of his cock, gradually teasing it to full erection. God, I could suck his cock all day.

Her hand slips into the cage and between my legs, rubbing the steel of my belt right over my clit. Of course, I can’t feel a thing. I whine and hump her hand, is if it’s going to make any difference. My belted cunt drips.

“Pathetic,” she says again. “Poor little creature, so horny from sucking its Master’s cock. Knowing it’s not going to get aaaaany release at all.” She turns to him. “Has it got your cock nice and hard?”

“Oh yeah. It’s got a talented tongue, that’s why I keep it around.”

She grabs his hand. “Then come and stick that hard cock in my tight little cunt while it watches.”

Masturbation Monday is created and owned by Kayla Lords. Click the link to see what’s getting everyone off this week.

If you enjoyed this story, you can get bonus erotic fiction every Tuesday by signing up to my Patreon page at any level.

Image sourced through Pixabay.

Masturbation Monday: “Private Tuition”

[This story depicts a consensual roleplay scenario between adults. All characters are above the legal age of consent.] 

A woman lying face down on a bed wearing a black top with a lacy bottom, her butt on display. For a piece of schoolmaster cane erotica.

Gem shifts in her seat, her butt aching from sitting too long in the uncomfortable wooden chair. She glances to her left, where Hannah appears to be engrossed in her work. A few feet away, Sir sits at his desk typing on his computer. They’re supposed to be working in silence. Punishment for whispering and giggling during his lecture earlier.

Fuck this, Gem thinks. Time to make this a little more interesting.

Very slowly, one eye on their Professor at all times, she reaches a hand across the couple of feet of space between them and pokes Hannah in the side. Hannah jumps and yelps. Lightning-quick, Gem pulls her hand back and returns to her book.

“Is there a problem?” Sir asks, his gaze on Hannah.

“No, Sir.”

Gem fights to keep the smirk off her face. A minute passes. When she’s sure Sir’s full attention is back on his screen, she reaches a hand out again and – so quickly Hannah barely has time to register what’s happening – tips Hannah’s open book onto the floor. It lands with a clatter in the quiet room. Gem is already writing again, her face a picture of innocence.

“Hannah!” Sir’s voice booms across the room as the other girl scrambles to retrieve her book.

“Sorry, Sir.”

He stands, comes around to the front of his desk. “Come over here.” Hannah stares. “Hurry up, girl, I haven’t got all day.” Hannah reluctantly gets up and goes to the front of the room. Her black skirt is so short it barely covers her ass. Slut, Gem thinks.

“Do you want to explain to me why you seem to be unable to follow simple instructions like study in silence?”

“It was Gemma, Sir. She prodded me and made me jump and then she pushed my book off the desk.”

“Is that true, Gemma?”

Gem glances up, her eyes wide in feigned surprise.

“No, Sir. I’ve just been sitting here doing my work, Sir.”

Sir is sure she’s lying, of course. But he’s not going to turn down the opportunity to punish two little sluts for the price of one.

“You’ve been nothing but trouble lately,” he tells Hannah. “I think it’s time you learn what happens to bratty girls who can’t behave in my classroom.” He goes to the cupboard in the corner of the classroom. Gem feels her eyes widen, and watches Hannah’s do the same, when they both see that he’s taken out a long rattan cane, the type wielded by Victorian schoolmasters in old TV dramas.

“Bend over my desk,” Sir tells Hannah, flexing the evil-looking thing between his hands. Hannah takes a step backwards, stuttering something unintelligible. “Don’t make me tell you again, girl, or it’ll be worse for you.”

This can’t be happening, Gem thinks, all pretense of focusing on her studies out of the window, gaze fixed on Hannah to see what the other girl will do. There’s a second where Hannah glances over Sir’s head at the door, as if considering running and then deciding against it. After the longest ten seconds or so in history, she turns and bends over the desk, resting on her elbows and forearms with her butt in the air. From her vantage point, Gem can just see the crease where Hannah’s bottom joins her thighs beneath the ridiculously short skirt.

This has got to be some kind of insane dream, Hannah thinks, bracing herself against the hard wooden surface of the desk. Any minute she’ll wake up and she’ll go knock on Gem’s door and tell her flatmate all about the crazy dream she had about being caned by their sexy, straight-laced Professor. Yet even as she thinks this, she realises there’s a part of her that doesn’t want to wake up.

She’s brought back to the knowledge that this is very, very real by the touch of a large hand on her ass through her skirt. Then Sir is flipping her skirt up and over her lower back, revealing her bottom covered only by the flimsiest of lacy knickers. He caresses her again, making her draw in her breath sharply. This is so humiliating! And yet…

“I’m going to give you ten strokes of the cane. Are you going to count them for me like a good girl?” Hannah hears herself whimper.

The first stroke surprises her more than in hurts her.

“One…” she manages to gasp, catching her breath and bracing herself for the second strike.

The second stroke is more painful, landing in exactly the same spot as the first. It’s a sharp, stinging pain that settles to a dull ache.

“Two.”

He strokes her ass between each stroke, the gentle touch a stark contrast to the pain.

Thwack. “Three.”

Crack. “Four.”

She hears herself moan with the fourth stroke. The shocking realisation comes to her: she’s enjoying this. She’s always enjoyed a bit of spanking in the bedroom with boyfriends, but this is somehow different. It hurts more, yes, but it’s also more… the word comes to her, humiliating. More erotic. As the fifth stroke lands, she realises she’s dripping wet and hopes Sir – and Gem – don’t notice.

“Five.”

Gem watches, mesmerised, from her seat. The way Hannah’s ass jiggles slightly with each stroke of the cane, the beautiful red lines that are starting to appear on her pale skin, and the way her little whimpers have given way to moans have her transfixed. She can’t deny it – she’s more turned on than she can remember being in a long time. She squirms in her seat, feeling her wetness coating her knickers and wishing she was brave enough to slip a hand under the waistband of her skirt and finger herself.

Sir runs a finger along the elasticated waist of Hannah’s panties. “Let’s get these off.”

“Oh, no, please…” Hannah protests.

“Shut up, little slut, you’re not in control here.” The sh0ck and embarrassment at being called a slut by her Professor sends another rush of arousal to Hannah’s cunt. She is powerless to fight back as Sir peels the thin lace from her ass and down over her legs, leaving them around her knees.

“Hannah.” His voice is stern.

“Sir?”

“Why are your knickers wet?”

Fuck. She doesn’t know what to say.

“I… I don’t…” She’s silenced by his hand stroking her ass again, soothing the burning lines made by the cane.

“Are you enjoying this, little slut? Does getting caned make you wet?” She shakes her head vehemently. “We’ll see. Soon Gemma and I will both find out just how wet you are. But before then you’ve got a few more strokes to go, haven’t you?”

Gem’s aroused squirming has intensified. She’s rocking her ass gently in her chair, thrusting her cunt against thin air.

Whack. “What number was that, Hannah?”

“Six, Sir.”

Whack. “Seven.”

Oh, god, Hannah thinks. It hurts more without her panties – however thin – cushioning her ass, of course. But the eroticism and embarrassment of standing here, bent over a desk with her soaked knickers around her knees, is almost too much to bear.

“The last three are going to be harder. Are you going to take them for me, little slut? Of course you are. We all know you’re loving this.”

Stroke number eight makes her yelp. “Eight,” she gasps.

Number nine makes her squeal, but her cunt is wetter than ever. “Nine!”

The final stroke is the hardest, but before she’s even moaned out “ten,” Hannah finds herself disappointed that her punishment is over. She’s never been so turned on in her life. She starts to straighten up, to reach for her knickers and pull them back up, but Sir’s hand is on her back and holding her in position.

“Don’t you move.” His fingers run over her ass and dip down to just before her cunt lips. “Spread your legs,” Sir orders. Hannah obeys, burying her face against her arms on the desk to hide her blushes. She’s so very humiliated… why does it turn her on so much?

She gasps as she feels his fingers make contact with her swollen outer labia, and then trace their way along to the opening of her cunt.

“It’s a fucking flood down here,” she hears him say. “You really do like being caned, don’t you, little slut?” He strokes her cunt tantalisingly gently, running his fingers through her black curls of pubic hair, teasing her but never making contact with her clit, the centre of her desire which is now throbbing in desperate need to be touched.

Gem, unable to contain herself any more, has slid a hand between her legs and is teasing her own cunt over her knickers. Watching her sexy friend be caned, teased and humiliated has left her feeling by turns envious and thankful it’s not her, but most of all, aroused as hell.

Hannah thrusts back against Sir’s teasing hand, trying to get the stimulation where she needs it the most.

“Awww,” he taunts her, “does little slut want her little clit touched?” In answer, Hannah whimpered and tried again to grind her cunt against his hand. He pulled it away, leaving her aching. “Uh-uh, not today. You’re being punished, remember? It’s too bad you’re such a filthy girl that it gets you all squirmy and needy.”

Hannah wants to protest, to beg, but he’s already pulling her knickers back up, smoothing them into place over her sore ass, and flipping her skirt back down to cover whatever semblence of dignity she has left. She lets out an unsatisfied whimper.

“Gemma.”

A nervous knot forms in Gem’s stomach as she pulls her hand away from her wet cunt. “Sir?”

“Take her home and edge the hell out of her. It’s your job to make sure she doesn’t come before next week’s class. If she does, I’ll lock you both in chastity belts for the rest of the semester.”

Did you enjoy this piece? You can find out what happens when Gem gets Hannah home in #BonusSmutTuesday, exclusively for Patreon supporters. Sign up at any level to get access.

 

Masturbation Monday is created and owned by Kayla Lords. Click the logo to see what other deliciousness is getting people off this week.

Masturbation Monday: “Take It For Me”

Dedicated to Jadis, whose awesome and filthy mind provided the inspiration for this one.

A close up of a woman lifting her shirt to show her large breasts.“Girls!” His voice booms through the house. I look up from my laptop and in a second, I’m out of work-mode and into ‘Sir’s calling’ mode. I hop up from my desk and dash downstairs in the direction of the living room, where his voice came from. Kitten appears behind me a moment later, the bell of her collar jingling. Her sleepy eyes, knickers-and-tank-top attire and mussed-up hair tell me she’s just been roused from a nap. Sir looks at us both, one eyebrow raised in his best ‘unimpressed face’.

“What’s this?”He gentures towards the sofa, where a purple silicone dildo – clearly stained from the juices of one excited girl or another – has appeared.

A beat. I glance at Kitten.

“I told you both very clearly that you could play with each other this morning while I was at work, but that I expected to see all the toys cleaned and neatly put away when I got back.”

“In my defence, Sir,” Kitten speaks up in her soft voice, “Alice said she’d put them all away! And I believed her. So it’s not really my fault.”

Bitch, I mouth at her, though lovingly.

“Is that so?” Sir asks. His eyes flick to me. “Is that accurate, Slut?”

“Well… I mean… yes, I suppose, but…”

“I was very clear with you both, and as the Alpha submissive it really is your responsibility to make sure my instructions are carried out. But since she was so quick to land you in trouble, you get to choose if you’ll take the punishment yourself, or have Kitten take it for you”.

I smirk. The perks of being one above her in the household hierarchy. “I think she can take it for me.”

“As you wish. Kitten, get those panties off and get that sexy ass over the sofa.”

Her eyes widen in surprise. She was so sure she’d escaped without punishment by dropping the blame on me! Silly slut. Any guilt I feel is assuaged by how wet her little squeak makes my cunt.

“Hurry up, Kitten.”

She throws a pouty look in my direction, then reluctantly slips out of her white lace knickers. Judging by the smell of her cunt, she’s already getting a little drippy. She might protest, but Sir and I both know she loves the punishment.

Kitten kneels on the floor, face buried in the sofa cushion, pert little ass sticking up into the air. Just begging to be reddened. I sit on the sofa beside her and lean down so my face is close to hers, stroke her hair gently.

“Are you going to be a good girl and take my punishment for me?” I ask her, just a hint of sadistic cruelty in my voice. A muffled whimper in return.

Sir strokes her butt gently, and then lands the first smack. Her body jerks. Another slap, then another, and Sir falls into his rhythm, spanking her in earnest. The little jiggle of her adorable ass and the cute whimpers she makes with each strike have got me so fucking wet that I can feel my arousal starting to soak my panties under my jeans.

A particularly hard spank makes Kitten’s head jerk up and she lets out a squeal of pain. I almost feel sorry for her. Almost. Mostly I just feel really fucking turned on.

“Ssshh, good girl,” I murmur, stroking her cheek. “Take it for me, Kitten. You can do it.” Just to emphasise that she doesn’t really have much of a choice, I take her slender wrists in one of my hands and pin her down firmly by them.

“She looks so gorgeous with a red arse,” Sir says to me over the top of our whimpering mess of a girl.

“I bet she’s really wet, too,” I say. “I can smell her cunt from here.”

Sir pauses spanking her just long enough to dip his fingers between Kitten’s slightly parted legs. They come out soaking.

“Filthy girl. She likes this.” He rubs her juices into the crack of Kitten’s ass, making her squeal, before he resumed the rhythmical spanking, harder than before.

“Can I play with her cunt while you spank her, Sir?”

“No. This is a punishment. She’s not supposed to get off from it. Besides, you two had more than enough fun playing with each other’s cunts this morning. Isn’t that how you got yourselves into this trouble in the first place?”

Kitten lets out a frustrated whine. Her ass is getting redder and redder, but her noises are changing. Her high-pitched squeaks have changed to low moans. She’s absolutely loving this, the little slut.

“You’re such a good girl, taking all this for me,” I tell her. “Poor girl. We’re so cruel to you, aren’t we?” Her panting and moans are all the reply I need.

“Ten more,” Sir says, “and they’re going to be hard ones. Count them for me.”

SLAP.

“One,” Kitten murmurs.

SLAP.

“Two.”

SLAP SLAP.

“Three… four…”

I can tell she’s starting to struggle now, her body fighting between the pleasure and the pain. But she’s being such a good girl, taking it all for me. For us.

SLAP.

“Five!”

I pet her hair, tell her she’s a good girl, my pretty kitty.

SLAP SLAP SLAP

“Six… seven… eight…”

SLAP

“Nine!”

SLAP

“Ten! Thank you Sir,” she gasps. He strokes her ass, reddened and decorated with his hand-prints. Then he moves to sit on the sofa on the other side of her and pulls her in for a cuddle. He strokes her hair and kisses her forehead as she purrs contentedly in his lap. I hold her hand and squeeze. We all lie entangled for a long time, letting Kitten come down from her sub-space in her own time.

After a while, Sir passes Kitten over to me and rises. He leaves the room and returns a minute or so later, holding a wooden spoon.

“Hey, Kitten?” he says.

She looks up from my lap. “Yes, Sir?”

“You can have your revenge on Alice now if you like.” He offers her the spoon. A grin breaks over her face as she sits up and takes it from him.

“Bend over,” she tells me.

Fuck.

Masturbation Monday is a project created and owned by Kayla Lords. This week’s image is by Violet Fawkes. If you enjoyed this story, you can sign up to my Patreon at any level to enjoy exclusive new patron-only erotic fiction every Tuesday. Click the logo to see what everyone else is getting off on this week…

 

Masturbation Monday: “Polish”

A filthy quickie for Masturbation Monday today, inspired by Sub Bee’s kinky boots…

She likes me to polish her boots.

It’s one of the ways I show my service. We go to the club, and she lounges on one of the comfy leather couches chatting with her friends and drinking a glass of wine, while I kneel at her feet and use a soft cloth and the inky black polish to shine the leather so brightly I can almost see my face reflected in it.

Occasionally she’ll pet my hair while I work, tell me I’m a good boy. Sometimes, she’ll loan out my services to another Mistress – or a Master. I’m as straight as they come, but something about serving a well-dressed Dominant man just gets me hard as fuck. I think it’s feeling inferior, knowing they’re so much better than me… they get to walk around in their smart suits, drink their wine and fuck the beautiful women they’re surrounded by, while I’m only good enough to sit naked on the floor and polish their boots.

Tonight, I’m in my usual spot at her feet. My work is finished, her leather boots gleaming, but Mistress pays little attention to me, except to occasionally glance down to make sure I’m still in the correct position – hands clasped, kneeling with legs slightly parted, my erection sticking out embarrassingly for all to see. I am supposed to keep my eyes on the ground but I occasionally steal a quick look up at her, this beautiful goddess who owns me.

Without missing a beat in her conversation, she reaches the toe of her newly-polished boot towards me and strokes it up and down my hard cock. Once. Twice. Three times. She gets into a rhythm, absentmindedly rubbing her boot against me while I quiver and try to control my reactions.

The stroking of her booted foot against my cock, coupled with the sweet scent of leather and polish and the humiliation of being otherwise ignored, is almost unbearably erotic. I hear myself groaning. My cock strains towards her teasing foot of its own accord, so hard it aches. I can’t help but thrust my hips, trying to get more purchase for my throbbing cock against her boot. Fuck, it feels good!

I know I’m supposed to ask permission.

Mistress…’

Still she doesn’t even look at me, but it’s too late, too late. My cock has a mind of its own. With a loud, guttural moan, I release, my come splashing all over her beautiful boots.

At last she looks at me, first my red cheeks then my now limp cock, then she lifts her foot to inspect the sight of her boot covered in my jizz. ‘Oh dear, slave, look what a mess you’ve made of my boots. You’re going to have to polish them all over again.’

I retrieve my cleaning cloth, burning with embarrassment but glowing with happiness.

Masturbation Monday was created by Kayla Lords. Click the logo to see who else is writing about kinky boots this week.

Masturbation Monday: “Ask Nicely”

A nude woman lying on her side, apparently asleep, on a bed with white sheets.I’m not usually allowed to wear clothing in the house. He says it covers up my pretty body, which should be readily accessible to him at all times. The only exceptions to this rule are when I’m cold and I ask permission to wear a robe to keep me warm, or when he wants me to wear something in particular that’s appealing to him. After several years of this protocol, nudity has come to feel like my natural state. It’s when he tells me to put something on that I know fun things are about to happen.

He kisses me awake, first my eyelids then my lips. My eyes flutter open. I smell hot coffee.

‘Hello, pet.’

‘Good morning, Sir,’ I say sleepily.

‘You’re going to drink your coffee, then you’re going to go and put those pretty knickers on for me. You know the ones I like – the black lace.’ My cunt twinges and I feel a knot of excitement growing in my belly. This sounds like a very promising prelude to something.

I sip my coffee leisurely while I allow my mind to wander to what might be on Sir’s mind. My cunt is getting ridiculously wet already. Sir always tells me it’s embarrassing how drippy I get. I tell him it’s because he won’t let me touch it without permission, and at least half the times I ask for permission he tells me no. Then he laughs at me and calls me a silly desperate slut and reminds me that he’ll lock it away in a chastity belt if he ever catches me touching it without permission. I don’t. The ache is hard, but disappointing him would be a thousand times worse.

I swing my legs out of bed and pad over to the chest of drawers, pluck out the requested knickers and slip them over my hips, smoothing the lace over my ass. I also pull my hair out from its ponytail and shake it out over my shoulders. Sir likes it loose and flowing – more to grab on to, he says.

He comes back in just as I’m admiring my reflection in the full-length mirror.

‘Yes, you’re gorgeous,’ he agrees, looking at me approvingly from across the room. ‘Now get over here and get on your knees.’

I scurry across the room and fall to my knees at his feet. He strokes my hair, tells me I’m a good girl, his pretty kitty. I melt.

He moves behind me and I hear him grabbing something from the drawer where we keep our toys. I know better than to turn around and see what he’s doing. I feel him crouch behind me, brush my hair aside and kiss my neck. A shiver runs down my spine and through my body. My nerves are taut, waiting. Fuck. This man knows how to play my reactions like an instrument.

The rope encircles my left wrist. He ties it off in a quick single-column and then secures it fast to my ankle. The right side gets the same treatment. I test the bonds, just to make quite sure I can’t wriggle out of them.

‘Keep still, slut.’

He moves back to stand before me. Grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls me by it into the kneeling-up position. Kisses me hard. I moan against his mouth, entirely taken. Entirely his. God, I’m dripping. I must be staining the pretty panties and probably the carpet beneath me, too.

He releases me. I watch, sure that my hunger is evident in my face, as he unbuttons his jeans and lets his hard cock spring free.

‘You want this?’ he asks, gently stroking it with one hand, inches from my face. I nod furiously. ‘Of course you do, cock-loving slut that you are. You’re going to have to ask really nicely though.’

‘Please can I have your cock, Sir?’

‘Where do you want it?’

‘In my mouth, Sir.’

‘Mmmm, are you sure you don’t just want to watch me get myself off over your lovely body?’

I shake my head. ‘No, Sir. Please let me suck your cock and serve you, Sir.’

With his free hand, he grabs one of my protruding nipples and twists it painfully. I squirm in my restraints. The other nipple gets the same treatment. I let out a squeak of pain. I am sure I see his hand grip his cock more tightly, stroking faster.

He laughs lightly. ‘Poor slut. It must be torture watching me wank in front of you, knowing your hands are tied and you can’t get what you want so much?’

‘Please, Sir…’

‘Mmm, I like it when you beg. But no.’

I whimper. It is, as he correctly identified, torture having his beautiful cock so close to me and not being allowed to touch it or suck it the way I want to.

‘Today I’m just going to use you as a decorative toy to get off over.’

He strokes his cock harder. He moans and I watch the way his body tenses as he brings himself closer to orgasm. Then his hand is in my hair again, dragging my mouth to his, the kiss swallowing the sound he makes when he comes. His tongue finds its way into my mouth as I feel his come splash over my breasts.

He pulls back and looks down at me, a wicked smile on his lips. ‘Filthy girl. Let’s get you untied and in the shower.’ A final kiss. ‘Maybe you’ll be lucky enough to get my cock in your mouth next time.’

Masturbation Monday is a meme started by Kayla Lords. Click the badge below to see what other smutty treats folks have got for you this week. If you enjoyed this piece, consider supporting me on Patreon – there’s bonus smut there every Tuesday for patrons at all levels, which will sometimes be related to my MM post and sometimes be a stand-alone. This week’s image is by Molly Moore and shared with permission as part of Masturbation Monday.

How to Put Me in Subspace

I have to admit, I’m starting to be glad this #KinkMonth thing is nearly over. Posting every day no matter what is fucking exhausting, y’all! Still, the show must go on, and today’s prompt from Kayla’s awesome 30 Days of D/s is all about subspace!

She says:

“Subspace or top/dom space isn’t a guarantee every time you get kinky or in every D/s relationship. The feeling comes from the endorphins, dopamine, and other feel good chemicals our brain produces in a really intense scene.”

A woman's upper body and bottom from the back, with her hands cuffed behind her back. Black and white. For a post about subspace

I’ve learned my own subspace triggers over the years. I’m always discovering new ones, and the ones listed here won’t work every single time, of course. But the following are the most reliable ways I’ve discovered to get me there.

[Disclaimer: don’t do any of these to me without consent. Obviously.]

Stroke the insides of my wrists

Yesssss. This area of my body feels super vulnerable to me, partly for trauma-reasons. It’s also hyper-sensitive. This means that only very trusted partners get to touch me there. For some reason, probably for reasons of the aforementioned vulnerability, having my inner wrists stroked is a pretty powerful way to push me down the subspace rabbit-hole.

Pull my hair

Mmmfff. I love hair-pulling. Grab a handful and give it a (GENTLE-ISH) tug. I don’t want to feel like you’re trying to pull it out, but I want to feel like you’re using it to control me and put me exactly where you want me.

Call me a “good girl”

I’m at least somewhat of a service-sub. I want to please the person I’m submitting for. Don’t just throw this out willy-nilly – it won’t work – but when I’ve done something to deserve it, a well-timed “good girl” will make me melt into a puddle at your feet.

Call me slut, whore, bitch or girl

Mild humiliation of this kind gets my cunt wet and sends my subby desires into overdrive. I don’t see them as insults when they’re said to me in the context of a scene with a person I know actually likes me. Think phrases like, “are you going to suck my cock like a good little slut?” or “Get on your knees, girl.”

Grab my throat

Fair warning: if you do this without consent, I may assume you’re trying to kill me and act accordingly. In a consensual scenario, though, I love love love a hand on my throat. Not squeezing (breath-play is a hard limit except occasionally with Mr CK,) just… holding. Firmly. In a way that says, “you’re mine and I will do what I want with you.”

Look at me over your glasses

In a sexy, stern teacher kind of way? Please?

Woof. I need a cold shower now. What gets YOU into subspace or Domspace, dear readers?

Kinky item of the day: Clingfilm/plastic wrap! I was once fastened to a post, off the ground, using nothing but pallet wrap. A super cheap and easily accessible tool which you can use for mummification and restraint. Disclaimers: NEVER wrap the face or neck. Keep safety shears handy. Read up on safety protocols before you experiment.

The image featured in this post was offered for use via Creative Commons Licensing.

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