There is a moment after readiness, before action, when time thickens instead of moving. My body was stretched open and plugged shut. Well, my ass was. I felt the large plug pressing between the surface of the table and the shape of my cunt. The last tremors of my orgasm made it thrum inside me like a self-propelled vibrator intent on making me cum again.
I existed there like their fantasy, their trophy. I was positioned and altered, without hope of negotiating, and still nothing irreversible had happened yet. I was immovable in my restraints, aware of every place I could no longer move and every place I was about to be undone.
Susan stepped back to look at me. Not with hunger, but with assessment, like a problem solved but not yet tested. Still a theory.
Stephen was the control.
He didn’t fuck me. He sauntered, dragged tension out of thin air, grazed his fingers against my erect skin, and positioned himself at my mouth. I waited.
“You may,” she said.
I opened and let him push inside.
She wasn’t done. The rope came next, coarse and deliberate, curling around my tits with methodical tension. It wasn’t just binding but sculpting, pulling them high and tight until pain braided into posture. I could no longer distinguish where arousal ended and restraint began.
I only felt the stretch in my chest, the cock thickening down my throat, and the way my body betrayed me with every pulse.
Then she applied the clamps.
Cold metal fangs bit into my nipples with ruthless precision. A jolt came first, caught in my restraints, then an ache, then a steady throb that should have belonged to pain but somehow didn’t.
I was leaking.
Not just wet, but dripping inside my thighs, around the swell of the plug, like my cunt had given up any pretense of pride. Then Susan found my clit.
One touch.
One pinch. Then steel fangs bit me, contained me, and made my clit scream all the way inside my head.
It was sharp, electric, too much, and I moaned around my professor’s cock, my throat stretching with involuntary greed. There was no room for words to escape and no clench of defiance.
I was reduced to slobber and submission, leaking from both ends of me. This wasn’t a loss of control, but control repurposed–turned inside out–and rewritten to serve something I no longer understood but already belonged to.
He pulled out, leaving my breath to chase his presence, my tongue flicking for his return.
“How does it feel, honey?” she teased, “To be eaten by scholarship?”
She pressed two fingers into my mouth, and I sucked my taste off her.
“How badly do you want to be fucked?” she whispered, “All you have to do is ask. Beg.”
My skin was on edge with itself, stripped raw. Just ragged nerve endings grinding against each other. I was about to be fucked by an authority. I was used to that; they always fuck downward, sometimes sideways, never upward.
“Please…” I breathed, “Please fuck me.”
Not enough.
“Honey,” Susan whispered. “That’s not nearly needy enough.”
I swallowed. Pride tastes like salt, cunt, and pre-cum. They hadn’t realized yet: I was fucking upward. By taking me, they would prove my point and give me leverage. They’d give me power.
So I begged with conviction, with a trembling voice reduced to only need and surrender, until she was in awe of my breaking body.
“Good girl,” she hummed and allowed her husband to fuck me.
My body gave in almost instantly as his cock stretched what space was left between the plug in my ass and my flesh. Pain rode the first entry, but I moaned, guttural and in true surrender. Every tremor pulled at the clamps on my tits and clit, tearing me apart from feeling to being. Each time he pulled out, I could breathe, and with every push inside me, the pain turned pliant and sweet.
She grinned as she straddled my head and lowered herself. I was pleased at how wet she’d made herself through me.
“It’s okay to cry a little,” she moaned as she sucked my toes into her mouth. “Stronger girls than you have wept into my cunt.”
I didn’t feel like crying, so I grinned into her. Her cunt was far fairer than her breath, and I drank her. I moaned into her, filling her with my need, my arousal, as her husband’s thrusts pulled me further apart from reality and pushed me closer to the chasm that awaited.
She ground herself against me.
“When my husband returns your next paper with an A,” she moaned, “will it feel deserved? Or will it itch your cunt before your conscience?”
I licked her deeper and grinned harder. Then I opened wide, sucked her entire cunt into my mouth, and held her.
She moaned and hugged my numb calf, sucking my toes into her mouth. When I released her, she dripped wet into my mouth, her thighs trembling.
She pulled the chain on my clit. Her husband thrust harder.
“Again,” she moaned. A hint of plea.
I was in no position to ask her to beg, so I did it again.
Harder.
Deeper.
With teeth this time.
She screamed into my foot and came against my face as if she was confessing. She throbbed in my mouth, and only when she stilled did I release her. Raw, swollen, and spent.
She slid off me and onto the table beside her.
“My God,” she whispered, in an afterburn.
She collected herself, studied how her husband’s cock stretched me, and sent jolts through my body, pulling chains and flesh.
She undid the ropes around my tits because she wanted them to find rhythm, so the clamps could pull harder and dig deeper.
I moaned deeply. So close to the abyss. So close to falling, not even sure I’d ever land again. Perhaps my brain would never find footing. Maybe I’d stay bound and fucked into eternity.
She leaned in again, breath hot, eyes glazed with something close to worship.
“Do you drink pee, Victoria?”
My roommate had eaten my pussy while I pissed into her mouth once, and I still hadn’t wrapped my head around that kink. I’d pissed myself from cumming too hard more than once. It was almost the signature of a good fuck. More than one weekend boyfriend had left shocked. Too shocked to make me a campus rumor.
I’d never drank it.
I could’ve said yes. I could’ve said no. But neither felt right. The truth wasn’t binary. It was just a blur.
Like switching channels too fast and catching static between the stations.
“Mmmfff,” I said.
Heat unraveled, not in my too-well-pounded-cunt. Not from the obscene stretch of silicone lodged in my ass. Not in my gut, where it used to begin. No, this came straight from my brain, a lightning bolt searing the center.
“Try me,” I said, and I gasped at the sound of my own words.
Susan grinned. She’d been given back control.
“You’re such a good cunt, honey,” she whispered in a wet kiss inside my mouth. “I almost admire you.”
She straddled me. It. I didn’t know anymore.
“Wait,” I begged. “Not until I unravel. Please?”
Susan parted herself, stretched wide, just enough to let me see. Then she ground against the mouth and face that wasn’t sure who it belonged to.
“Then let’s unravel you,” she panted, leaning back to unclasp the clamp from my clit. Releasing it sent a shudder that cracked through the marrow of me.
And then she rubbed.
“Fuck her beyond imagination, Stephen,” she growled, guttural and low.
And he did.
He fucked like punctuation: each thrust a period, each moan a clause. Susan’s body lit up like language, like syllables on fire.
I screamed without breath. Wept without tears.
The body convulsed around complete, merciless fullness. The plug sealed us from escape. Stephen’s cock split them toward ruin. There was no room left for spasms, only pressure building, choking, desperate for release. A body tensed around bone. Everything surged upward, past lungs, up the throat, until a scream tore loose and shattered inside my skull.
And then: silence.
I was momentarily gone. I didn’t exist.
The room, the bindings, the people, we all disappeared. We were swallowed whole.
I was nothing but a hole that needed to be taken, filled, and consumed.
She kept her promise. She splattered my face before redirecting, filling my mouth. Salt, vile, pungent. I overflowed. I spat.
I gurgled piss like it was cleansing.
Until I swallowed.
Until I realized I couldn’t smell pee without it turning into want, a complete recalibration of self.
Only then did my professor pump me full of his indoctrination, acceptance, and fulfillment of my theories.
I swallowed again, then licked her clean.
She started releasing the clamps, undoing the straps.
“Wait,” I whimpered. “I want to stay like this until I go completely numb.”
She tilted her head. She had no idea what powers she fucked with.
“When you’ve rested—”
I grinned and felt him drip from my cunt.
“Fuck me again. Because you’ve proven every theory I’ve served, every truth I’ve believed. Now you can be your peer control. Unless you have someone else waiting in the wings.”
They shared a look, retreated to the kitchen, and left me waiting. I couldn’t feel my fingers, but it still wasn’t enough. I wanted complete numbness. When my bladder released without me knowing, I knew I’d found it. I came silently from pissing myself.
They fucked me once more that night. Then again, Saturday morning, before finally unfastening me. He carried my useless body to bed. The pain, as numbness surrendered and sensation returned, was fever-like.
Later, I watched him fuck Susan. I waited until she started coming undone before straddling her. She drank my piss, tender and filthy.
In the aftermath, I twisted the dagger.
“Tell me,” I said, “next time you ask a question during lecture, will you dare ask me?”
He didn’t answer, so I forced it deeper.
“Next time you’re forced to give me an A, will you wonder if it’s my cunt you’re grading?”
He took me back to campus when dusk settled. I slept straight through until Sunday afternoon.
When I woke, I was horny. Ruined. Sweating. My cunt was sore, swollen, and begging.
I had become, if only for a day, what girls speak about when they’re drunk, high, or wanting to get revenge on a cheating boyfriend. A thing to be used. A hole to be fucked. A hunger to be fed. Something even my body had escaped, mid-fuck.
But not entirely. Because I’d taken something back with every thrust. My tits were sore, marked. A fire burned in streaks across my ass, whipped. Owned, and I had loved every second of it. Especially the hours alone, shackled, stretched, nothing but a body tuned to receive.
I knew all my pleasure points now. They throbbed still, on my skin, in my cunt, and somewhere behind my eyes. I had been turned into a cunt of need. Because I said yes.
I swallowed.
Again.
Then I forced myself out of bed, put on my hoodie, and opened the door.
My roommate looked up from her book, a slight furrow between her eyes.
She smelled faintly of lavender, her hair still wet from her shower. She was surprised when I kneeled between her legs and pushed her apart. She didn’t have time to think when I pulled her panties down. I think she pushed her hips forward on instinct more than want.
I licked her with greed. I sucked her with need. The look on her face when I stopped and stared at her with begging eyes was enough to utter my plea.
“Piss on me,” I said.
