Obedient, Open, Owned

[da****]

She didn’t have to beg.
That was the cruellest part of his kindness.
He already knew.
He walked in like a storm in skin, no words, no pretence, just heat. His gaze locked on her, already stripped down to lace and nerves, waiting on the bed like the good girl she swore she wasn’t going to be this time.
But he brought it out of her, every damn time.
“Legs open,” he said, voice low, almost bored.
She parted for him like she’d been waiting all week.
He didn’t ask if she was ready. He didn’t need to. Her slick thighs told him everything.
He knelt, not to worship, but to inspect. Fingers tracing her inner thighs, his breath teasing just close enough. And when he finally slid two fingers inside her, slow and intentional, she arched, moaned, then whimpered when he stopped just to watch her crumble.
“You’ve been aching, haven’t you?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Say it prettier.”
She swallowed her pride and her sanity. “I’ve been aching for your cock, Sir… I need you to ruin me.”
Oh, that did it.
He was on her in a blink. one hand pinning her wrists, the other guiding himself inside, filling her like he was reminding her who she belonged to.
And she felt it. With every thrust.
This wasn’t just fucking.
This was ownership.
Possession.
Ritual.
Her body, his temple. Her moans, his prayer.
And when she came, loud, shaking, sobbing his name, he kissed her cheek, whispered, “Good girl…” and fucked her right through the aftershocks until she couldn’t remember her own damn name.
---
Or
-‐-
“Just a Hole Tonight”
(For the subs who crave the cruel kind of care)

She didn’t look at him when he came in.
She wasn’t allowed to.

He had rules, and tonight was Rule No. 5: No eye contact. No words. Just obedience.

She was already face-down, ass-up, wrists tied to the headboard.
Naked. Wet. Shaking from anticipation and ***.

She didn’t even know if he was going to touch her.
Sometimes he didn’t.
Sometimes he just watched.

But tonight… she heard the belt drop.
The zipper.
The sound of lube—sloppy, impatient.
And her heart skipped.

He didn’t say a thing.

No hello. No praise.

He grabbed her hips, hard enough to leave bruises, and slammed into her with no warning. No teasing. Just cock. Deep, thick, merciless.

She screamed.
He growled.

And still, not a word.

Because tonight?
She wasn’t his good girl.
She wasn’t his princess.
She was just a hole.

Used.
Fucked.
Filled.

Each thrust knocked the breath out of her lungs, pushed her face into the mattress, left her drooling, sobbing, clenching around him like her body loved the disrespect.

And it did.

Oh, God, it did.

He came with a grunt, deep, ***istic, and stayed buried in her, holding her still like she was just his toy.
Then silence.

Then the sound of the shower turning on in the other room.

No aftercare tonight.
No soft kisses.
No sweet whispers.

Just sore thighs, cum dripping out, and the aching glow of being exactly what he wanted
Nothing more than something to use.

[To****]

Mmmm yummy 😋

[MrBedwell]

Great story.

[Deleted Member]

I liked this a lot 😊

[Deleted Member]

I enjoyed reading both them scenarios.. 🥵

[On****]

Craving of service can be so fulfilling to those who know 🔥🔥