Monday, March 16, 2015

Spin the slave girl: a fantasy

I have a very very good imagination.

Once in a while my husband will use that to his extreme advantage by crafting a fantasy directly into my ear while he manipulates my body. Bondage, discipline, even fucking, can come from his lips into my ear without him actually putting forth more effort than coming up with the idea.

He spoons me, and his lips are right against my ear, his arms around me as he begins to speak.

"You'd like a cage, wouldn't you. And I could just hang you from it. Tie your wrists to your ankles, spread your legs wide, and hang you up, just to beat you, or to fuck you wherever I want. Just to keep you right here and fuck you. I could spin you around to decide where to fuck, oooh I should fuck your pretty face right now," he whispers, his hands roaming my body as they like. In point of fact I have a cold sore right now, but my imagination doesn't worry about that as he describes his cock filling my face, my throat. I moan deeply and his fingers find my clit as he keeps talking about using my face to fuck. He strokes it lightly, expertly, driving my desire for him to a fever pitch as he keeps talking, his sexy fucking voice playing right inside my brain, turning me into a puddle of need.

"I could get your ass all nice and slippery, slide my fingers in there, then shove a huge plug into you. Then when I fuck your pussy, there won't be much room. But I'd make room. You're mine and I'd shove my cock into you because it feels so fucking good inside you. 'Too big,' you'll say, 'oh, master, it's too big for me,' but I won't fucking care and I will make you take it all and there is nothing you can do about it."

I just keep moaning. My brain has completely accepted that my face is currently full of cock, despite the fact that it is not.

"Mmm. It's so good inside your throat," he murmurs, "and I know that once your face realizes what it's really for, it hates to stop. All your holes are like that, aren't they? Once they realize they're fuck holes again they hate to give it up. Your sweet mouth doesn't want me to stop fucking it, does it? But I should just spin you again and see what else to fuck. Face hole, pussy hole, ass hole. . . face hole, pussy hole, ass hole." And inside my head, it's exactly as if he has done just that. I am a collection of holes, spinning slowly, suspended from a cage while he decides where he wants to put his cock next. I barely stifle my screams of gratification at being so objectified.

"Mmm, I guess I'll fuck your pussy," he murmurs, sliding his actual cock into me from behind as I make loud grunting noises, his words causing minor spasms over my entire body. I am a slippery wet mess by this point, his words and his fingers have made me come several times already. I am floating, every nerve tingling, hanging on his every word, suspended by his voice as surely as the imaginary restraints into which he has bound me.

"Take it, girl. Take it all. Too big, is it? That's your favorite thing to complain about, isn't it? I should spin you around again and shove it down your throat. You won't complain about that, will you? Of course you won't, your throat will be full of cock. Don't worry, girl, soon your lip will heal and then, ohh, and then. . . "

"Then you'll fuck my throat again?" I gasp, each syllable interrupted by my gasps as his cock moves inside me.

"Oh yes, what a clever fuck toy you are. That's right, then I'll fuck your throat again," he croons, the low rasp of his voice sending tingles down my spine. "You love being full of my cock, having all your holes filled and stretched open around me, for me. That's what you're fucking for. For me to fuck all your holes. Your ass loves my cock too. It loves me to shove inside it, to force you open, to make you mine. You're afraid too, afraid of how big it is. But you love to be afraid of my big cock fucking your ass. You're a collection of fuck holes, what's that like, to be a walking collection of fuck holes?"

I can only respond in grunts and barely-restrained screams. His words and his actions have driven any rational part of my brain away and I can only feel things, react to things, arch, scream, pant, gasp.

"And I can just keep you here, hanging here, for me to fuck those holes whenever I want, however I want. Ohh yes I like that. My own hanging fuck toy." He pulls me closer into him as he speaks, his cock pushing more into me than there is me, stretching my insides further, making me cry out as he finally comes. His orgasm is long, his moans of pleasure intense.

But then he is on top of me, his fingers sliding into me, stroking my clit, pressing hard into my g-spot, and I am screaming again. I thought I was spent, done, no more gasps of pleasure left but he is wringing every bit out of me that he can.

And I adore him. I adore what he does to me and I just keep thinking, when I am allowed to think as his fingers draw more orgasms from my exhausted body, how very lucky I am to be this man's sex slave.

Thank you, husband.


  1. Oh, this can answer Sarah's question (a favorite night of kink). ❤

    And for the rest of her question: I've been with my man since late 2000, married since mid-2002.

    1. Ho-ly WOW!!!

      Thanks for answering. Love it!!!

  2. Replies
    1. Thank you! I was a little concerned with the crickets. :)

      It'd be nice to have the room and equipment to pull of something like this for real, but in the mean time it's a happy thing my brain is so easily convinced of things.

    2. We have a similar fantasy involving a giant lazy susan dealie, probably never be realized, but fun to imagine.

  3. Holy shit, I would be so turned o, my husband could do anything if he spoke to me that way

    1. I know right? That's pretty much how it went down here.

  4. Wow. Sounds like when my husband is whispering in my ear!

    1. You're very very lucky if that's the case. :)

  5. I nominated you for the Real Neat Blog award...see my post for details :)



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