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Strangers used me in the dark and it was everything I could imagine. I signed the waiver.
No names. No faces. No safe words. Just silence, shadow, and surrender. The room was pitch black—so dark it swallowed even my thoughts. I stood still, completely naked, every inch of my skin tingling with anticipation. My heart pounded against my ribs, a deep, echoing thud that filled the space louder than any scream might have. I waited, trembling, vulnerable. Ready.

Then the first hand found me—rough and calloused, gripping my hip like it belonged there. Then another. And another. Fingers traced down my spine, palms cupped my breasts, mouths found my neck. Gasping as one hand closed around my throat—not tight, just a reminder: I wasn’t in control anymore.

I didn’t know how many they were. I couldn’t see a thing. But I felt everything. Someone shoved me down to my knees. A cock pressed against my lips, demanding. I opened without hesitation, letting him in, tongue swirling, throat relaxing. He groaned low, primal. My mouth was used—gagging, choking—while hands pulled my ass up. Someone entered me from behind, thick and relentless. There was no warning. No introduction. Just raw, unapologetic Continue reading “Strangers Used Me in the Dark”

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He loaned me out to his friends and there was nothing I could do about it. It started as a joke. He said, “You’re my perfect little toy—maybe I should share you.” I laughed. Nervous. Turned on. Then one night, he blindfolded me and whispered, “Be a good girl and do what you’re told.” I heard the door open. More than one voice. Male. Deep. Confident.

I was naked on my knees, waiting. My heart pounding. My thighs soaked. I felt like prey. Precious. Offered. My breath caught when I heard the soft chuckle of a stranger just inches from me. He kissed my cheek and said, “These are my friends. You’ll serve them tonight. You’ll take whatever they give you. But remember—you belong to me.” What followed was chaos. A beautiful, filthy storm.

Hands everywhere. Fingers in my mouth, on my breasts, between my legs. Cocks shoved into my mouth, then my cunt, then back again. I was passed between them like a favorite plaything. They slapped my ass, praised my throat, pulled my hair, marked my skin. I begged for it. I was stretched. Used. Worshipped. Degraded. And I loved every second.

Every time I looked toward him—blindfold askew, Continue reading “He Loaned Me Out to His Friends”

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A teacher’s pet like me always gets punished after class. I stayed behind after everyone else left. He shut the classroom door and said, “You know exactly why you’re here.” I bit my lip and nodded. “You think batting your lashes gets you an A? You think wearing that tight little skirt means I won’t notice you’re failing?” He stepped behind me. Grabbed my hair. Pulled. “Bend over the desk.” I obeyed. My heart pounding, my thighs slick with anticipation. He lifted my skirt. No panties.

“Naughty little slut,” he muttered. Then the first spank landed. I gasped. Each one got harder. “Count.” “One, Sir. Two, Sir—” By ten, I was soaking the wood. By fifteen, I was moaning like a whore. Then I felt his cock pressing against me. Thick. Hard. Demanding.

“You want this grade? Earn it.” He fucked me hard, face down on the desk, books scattered, chalk dust in my hair. I took it like the filthy student I was.

He pushed my face into the desk with one hand, the other around my throat, reminding me of my place. “You’re nothing but my fuck toy, aren’t you?” I couldn’t answer. The pleasure was too overwhelming. Continue reading “Teacher’s Pet Gets Punished After Class”

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I was used in the back of the limo. He told me not to wear panties to the gala. I obeyed. All night, I played the part—smiling, sipping champagne, talking politics—while he kept one hand on my lower back and whispered what he was going to do to me. I couldn’t resist but I kept my composure. I was not going to break character.

Everyone watched us like we were royalty. No one knew how filthy I was underneath that gown. When the driver opened the back door of the limo, I slid in first. My dress rose up to my hips. He didn’t wait. He followed, shut the divider, and dragged me onto his lap like I was nothing but his toy. “I’ve been patient all night,” he growled. “Now open your mouth.” He unzipped himself. I dropped to the floor. The driver was still up front. The thrill? Insane.

He used me fast and rough, gripping my hair, face-fucking me while the city lights flickered past. Then he pulled me up, bent me over the seat, and shoved into me from behind, one hand choking me, the other pressing my face to the window. People Continue reading “Used in the Back of the Limo”

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Three mouths. Six hands. One night I will never forget. I’d fantasized about it before—more than one man, all eyes on me, all hands on me. But fantasies never prepared me for the real thing. It started with a game. A private party, low lights, drinks flowing, and tension so thick I could taste it. Two of them—tall, muscular, eyes full of hunger. Friends. Teammates. Alphas. And they both wanted me.

I didn’t pick. Didn’t have to. So I looked at both of them, crossed my legs slowly, and whispered, “If you want me, come take me.” And just like that, the night changed. We didn’t make it to the bedroom. They pinned me against the living room wall like I was their shared secret. One kissed me deep and rough while the other dropped to his knees, tugging my panties down and spreading me open with his tongue.

My knees buckled. I moaned into the kiss, one hand tangled in hair, the other gripping shoulders. Every inch of my body was touched hands sliding over my breasts, mouths worshiping every curve. When they carried me to the couch, I was dripping. Begging.

One of them took Continue reading “Three Mouths. Six Hands.”

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The way he begs for me is better than any orgasm. It starts with a look. That hungry, needy stare he gets when I walk into the room wearing nothing but a robe and a smirk. He’s already hard before I even speak. I love that about him—how my presence alone is enough to make him squirm.

“Sit,” I say, and he obeys immediately, settling on the edge of the bed with wide eyes and parted lips.I step in front of him, slowly opening my robe. He inhales sharply, gaze locked on my bare skin, hands clenched at his sides like he’s afraid to touch. He knows better. I haven’t given him permission.

“You want it, don’t you?” I ask, teasing my nipples with my fingers, dragging one hand down my stomach. “Yes,” he breathes. “Please.”  That’s my favorite part. Not the touching. Not even the orgasm. It’s the begging. I live for that whimper in his voice, the tremble in his thighs as he pleads. When he’s on his knees, tongue out, eyes wide and desperate—there’s nothing sexier.

I slide my panties down slowly, watching him watch me. I can see how badly he wants to Continue reading “The Way He Begs for Me Is Better Than Any Orgasm”

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I didn’t think I had any kinks…until he brought them all out of me. When we first got together, I thought I was pretty vanilla. Sex was good—but it was routine. Safe. Then he started testing boundaries. It began with a blindfold. Then ropes. Then something called a Wartenberg wheel that made me shiver in ways I didn’t know were possible.

“You’re more open than you think,” he whispered, tracing the cool metal over my nipples. He was right. Because once I gave in, I couldn’t stop. We explored everything. Wax dripped onto my thighs while I was gagged and tied to the bed, vibrating toys pressed to my soaked clit until I was begging. He had me try on latex. Fishnets. Collars. At first, I laughed. But then I looked in the mirror—makeup smudged, skin flushed, legs spread wide—and I didn’t recognize the woman staring back. I saw someone wild. Free. And dripping with filth.

We experimented with impact play. Feet. Roleplay. Choking. Public teasing. I started texting him during work, asking what toy to wear under my clothes. One night, he whispered, “Try the plug tonight. I want you warm and stretched before I get home.” Continue reading “I Didn’t Think I Had Any Kinks…Until….”

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He tried to humiliate me! He thought he was funny. We were out with friends when he made the comment. Loud enough for everyone to hear. “She acts tough, but she’s really just a pillow princess!” The room laughed. My cheeks burned. But not from shame. No, what I felt was a different kind of heat. Because I already knew how I was going to make him pay.

When we got home, I didn’t speak. I took control—grabbed his collar, shoved him onto the bed, and straddled him. “Take off your clothes,” I said coldly. “All of them.” He looked surprised. Nervous. I didn’t wait—I ripped his shirt open, yanked his pants off, and tied his wrists to the headboard with my belt.

“You embarrassed me,” I whispered, lips grazing his ear. “Now I’m going to show you what real power looks like.” I teased him until he was moaning, pleading, straining against the restraints. Then I stopped. Completely. “You don’t deserve to cum yet,” I said, slipping on a strap and stroking it against his inner thigh. “But I do!”

I used him. Sat on his face, thighs tight around his head, grinding until I came hard

Continue reading “He Tried to Humiliate Me!”

 

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He fucked me before check out. He didn’t even knock—just swiped the keycard and walked in like he owned the room. I was still in the hotel robe, loosely tied, the faintest drop of wine on my bottom lip. I met his stare and smiled. He knew what that meant. Without a word, he dropped his bag and came to me like he was starving. His hand slid around my neck, lips crashing into mine. My robe slid off my shoulders, exposing nothing underneath. I hadn’t worn panties on purpose. I wanted his hands on me the second he walked in.

He pushed me back onto the bed, parting my thighs with his knee, eyes locked on mine as he trailed soft kisses down my collarbone, the curve of my breasts, then lower. I could feel the heat between my legs grow unbearable as his tongue teased along my inner thigh—so close I almost begged. And then he tasted me. Slow at first, like he wanted to savor every moan, every twitch of my hips.

I reached down, threading my fingers through his hair, pressing him deeper into me. His tongue flicked, circled, then flattened against me, the pressure Continue reading “Fuck Me Before Check Out”

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They don’t talk enough about morning cravings. That deep, aching heat between your legs when your body wakes up before your brain does. The kind of hunger that doesn’t want coffee—it wants to be touched, devoured, worshipped. And baby, I’m here for every inch of that.

I’m not just a morning person—I’m YOUR morning person. I’m available before your alarm, ready when you’re half-awake and already hard or soaked from a dream you wish had never ended. You know the one—the one where I was wrapped around you, moaning into your ear, my nails dragging down your back while you begged for more or how about the one humiliating you while you wear my panty hose.

You don’t have to wait for the sun to be fully up to handle your business. I’m already wet. Already throbbing. Already spreading my legs or bending over, waiting to hear you say how badly you need to feel me. You want that fantasy? I’ll feed it to you while you’re still rubbing sleep out of your eyes.

Early risers deserve to be rewarded—and trust me, I reward very well. You want to fuck before breakfast? Slide your tongue between my thighs before brushing Continue reading “Morning Cravings”