#crying k!nk

[gincat]

seeing them cry during sex is simply the hottest thing on earth

it makes me want to keep going till we are both exhausted

[cum-a-calla]

Getting The Poison Out

in which you’ve been acting up all fucking day and Joel has to put you back in your place with a punishment tailored to fit the crime.

——

under the cut (a little something new): serious daddy kink/ddlg vibes, rough spanking, pet names, lots of crying, some dubcon vibes, fingerfucking, pussy eating, PIV sex, creampie, aftercare.

——

It’s been miles with this fucking clicking sound.

You sigh, heavy, trying to squeeze your eyes shut and not be irritating - though you can feel it, a ball of growing frustration and annoyance that just hasn’t gone away in - what? 50 miles? 75, 100? Does it really matter?

Joel’s stopped a couple times now to check things over - yes, the check engine light is on. That’s typical - he’s good at working with machines, good at fixing a problem. Good with his hands. You stare out the window and, feeling like a fucking kid in a coming-of-age movie and not a fully grown adult with an attitude problem, you lean your forehead against the passenger window and stare. The clouds outside are fluffy, the sky a deep, open blue, the kind that isn’t tinted and dusty with pollution. It’s like a photograph. Soft, open fields, yellowing with the deep summer sun. Windows slightly cracked to allow in the fresh air. Abandoned, broken fences, wandering animals, dusty roads and those shimmering phantom pools in the distance that disappear the closer you get, a trick of the heat on the asphalt. You imagine dipping a toe into it, the toe of your dirty boot trying to dip into a glittering, morphing puddle and finding the stiff barrier of cracked road and dirt. Reverie over.

“That noise,” you grumble.

Joel grunts. He barely spares you a glance, glaring stonily ahead, focused on your destination. It should be coming close now, actually - some place in some barely-existent town you have to spend the night in, somebody’s spare room. Something Joel needs to collect. The hot air blows through the cracked window, through loose hairs you didn’t tie up, and you’re grateful for the sweat dripping down the back of your neck and all along your hairline.

“What the hell is that fuckin’ noise,” you grumble at the window, your own breath fogging it up. In a fit, you rub it out, putting a smear on the glass. It only annoys you further and you fix yourself eyes-forward, glaring out the windshield instead. It’s dented, cracked a little in the corner. Smeared with fucking bugs.

“M’not gunna talk to ya when you’re like that. It’s unpleasant.”

“Unpleasant,” you repeat sourly, the taste of the word in your mouth making your mood worse. You eye Joel out of the corner of your eye and the crease in his brow, the distinctive frown in his lips, well - that just serves to piss you off even more. “Well, sorry about that.”

“Ain’t sorry.”

“What?”

“Ya ain’t sorry,” he repeats slowly, loudly. He finally turns to look at you, brows drawn. He looks exhausted. Well who isn’t, right? Fuck. Fucking - you turn and look out the windshield again, beating your own pervasive guilt down by counting rusty old street signs, some of them so worn or vandalized you can barely guess where you’re at. The end of the goddamn world.

You choose to not answer Joel at all, or even acknowledge him, instead choosing to marinate in your own irritation and slight guilt. It’s not hard to do… it’s been a long day, and Joel’s been carting both of you in this fucking hot truck for hours, stopping occasionally to check on whatever might be going on. Apparently it could mean something or nothing at all. All you know is that the sound of it is grating, and Joel’s complete absence of commentary - as usual - is somehow bad today. Everything feels bad. Everything feels like a big, heavy chore, weighing you down, and you actively know you’re being unpleasant - he’s right. But facing that fact seems impossible in the face of your own displeasure.

You’re only human, right?

What-fucking-ever.

Joel’s not apparently as willing to give it up as you might have thought. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him shoot you a glance - a glare, likely. It makes you feel justified in some weird way, but mostly it makes you even more miserable.

“Actin’ like a fuckin’ brat.”

Well, there it is - can’t ignore that, can you?

“Excuse me?”

“Y’heard me, kid. Actin’ like a goddamn brat. Spoiled little baby.”

“Oh, so - ” at first you ball your fists, but then you explode your fingers open in a stupid little display, throwing them up in defeat, scoffing, huffing, acting exactly like he’s describing and only getting angrier that he’s right. You want nothing more than for this trip to be over, for you to be able to lie in a bed and sweat there instead of this fucking truck, but here you are, going through hell with Joel. Knowing exactly how you’re being and having no intention of quitting anytime soon, your better sense be damned. “So, I’m a baby, huh?”

“Mmm. Reckon so.”

The next several miles are spent in silence, your burning, impotent rage filling you up until you can feel your own angry flush on your cheeks. No matter how long you stave off from looking toward Joel - which you do as subtly as you can, staring ahead and flicking your eyes toward him only once in a while - his expression never seems to change. It’s the same stoic, pinched brow, the set in his jaw that makes you want to (lick it) scream at him.

Joel pulls down a gravelly road, dust pluming up behind the tires. The air is clouded with it, but there isn’t a fucking thing either of you can do about all that. Joel glances your way as if daring you to bitch and moan about it, and for a shining moment, you consider it. You really consider it, licking your lips, going as far as to open your mouth, but ultimately you stare miserably out the window and watch the dust fly.

Up ahead, there’s a little property - a small house with another, smaller one sitting kitty-corner on the lot. Joel pulls over beside another beat up, dusty car and shoots you a look.

“Wait here,” he says simply, grabbing a duffel bag from the backseat and slinging it over his shoulder.

“What’re you doing? Why can’t I go?”

Joel simply shuts the door on your questions, the tiniest hint of a smirk on his lips as he turns and walks up to the house, knocks on the door. A man glances over at the truck and allows Joel inside. You slump down in your seat with an impatient sigh and play with a frayed edge on your shirt, feeling the weight of the pout in your expression but doing nothing to fix it. Who cares.

He comes back and you’re standing outside the truck, leaning against the passenger door. You open it back up and he gives you a curt shake of the head.

“Stayin’ here tonight. Get your shit.”

“Yeah, let me just grab all my luggage,” you mumble sarcastically.

“You’d do well to be a little more grateful,” Joel snaps, and his tone makes you look up at him for a second, a little twinge of fear blinding the irritation you’ve felt all day long. He looks angry and even a little disgusted, and it makes you feel even worse. “Gunna stay in that little house over there for a night or two. My friend up there doesn’t have to do that for us, but he is. Now fix your fuckin’ bad attitude. Should be apologizin’.”

“I haven’t needed a daddy in a long time, Joel, and I don’t need one now,” you snap, slinging your bag over your shoulder and slamming the truck’s door a little too hard. You turn and glower toward the house, more of a shack than anything but still a sight for sore eyes - and sore backs. If there’s actually a bed in there, you might just cry.

After you both deposit your bags on the bed, you sigh and swipe a hand over your forehead, working to open each and every window while grumbling.

“Fucking hot in here,” you mumble, crossing your arms like a petulant child as you look out the bedroom window. Insects buzz and chirp outside.

“Y’ain’t gunna quit, huh?” Joel’s glaring, and he nods toward the mattress, snapping his fingers. “Get on the bed.”

“What?”

“On the bed. Now. On your belly.”

There’s a brief moment of pause in which you’re both staring at each other. Joel sighs impatiently and comes to you, his big hands reaching for your pants. The moment you try to block him out he lightly slaps your hands away.

“Stay still, kid. Fuckin’ gunna do it m’self for ya - what’s new,” he says, voice dangerous and low. He sounds pissed. He makes quick work of the button, the zipper, and yanks them down your thighs, looping his thumbs into your panties to take them down all at once. He shoves you so that you lie on your back and then your fight-or-flight kicks in a little, and he has to grunt and struggle to get your legs under control to rip your jeans clean off your legs. “Be fuckin’ still. Quit squirmin’.”

“Joel, stop -” You wriggle a little up the mattress, lifting up on your elbows to scoot away.

Instead of answering you, Joel yanks your ankle and you’re sliding down again, on your back, the tiniest yelp leaving your lips as your face flushes. It’s embarrassing, Joel seeing you like this - no bottoms to speak of, completely bare to him while you kick and half-heartedly struggle; but there’s a little give, there, isn’t there? A part of you that likes it. That likes the feeling of his calloused fingers hooking underneath the soft, silky flesh behind your knee to keep you in place, his eyes roving over your nudity, your bare pussy.

Joel grabs your hips with purpose and flips you easily to your belly, climbing up onto the mattress himself until it’s dipped beside you. He has one large, warm hand on the small of your back, anchoring you there.

“Been a goddamn brat and a pain in my ass all day long. I know exactly how to take care of a little fuckin’ brat.”

His other hand is warm on your ass, but now, everything is clicking into place and you squirm a little again, heart pounding in your chest. “Joel, you - you can’t.”

“Sure fuckin’ can, and I will. Y’gunna stay nice and still for me so we can get this over with, hear me? Gunna listen to me for once.”

The first slap stings. The sound you make is mostly out of disbelief, your eyes widening as they train on the scratched old wall behind the headboard. There’s a nightstand, to the side there, a candle on an old, yellowed doily. Joel’s hand comes down again, harder, and this time you hold your breath. There’s a drawer - you wonder idly if there’s a bible in there.

If this is happening, you’re going to have to hold out. Not think about it too much, even though your face is already flushing. It can’t be that bad, not really - right? He’ll get it out of his system and it will be over. Joel wouldn’t really hurt you. He wouldn’t. He -

The next slap is followed immediately by more, raining down against your ass so that it really starts to fucking sting, and there you are - spine arching up a little, feet kicking again, but he has you. He holds you down against that mattress and it’s not even a contest; he’s so strong, so sure of himself, and he grunts and clucks his tongue at you.

“Y’ain’t goin’ anywhere, darlin’. Gunna take it all for me. Teach you a fuckin’ lesson.”

His callouses skate over your warm, tingling flesh and it kind of hurts. You’re already starting to hyperventilate as he raises that palm up again, body screaming with anticipation before he slaps one ass cheek and then the other. He repeats this, over and over, harder with each go.

It’s only minutes - it can’t be longer than a few minutes of this before you’re squealing under him. Your breath hitches in your throat and the tears come so fast it’s dizzying, sniffling as you press your hot face into the mattress and wring your fingers into the sheets.

“Joel, please - I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you bawl.

“Mmm. Betcha you are. Not sorry enough, though - not yet, kiddo.”

“N-no, wait -”

“Deep breaths, honey,” he interrupts, and fuck - he sounds tender, his voice heavy with something. Something you’ve never heard in his tone before, a deep, pleasant rumble that is so unlike the way he continues to spank your ass raw. “C’mon; in, out. Good girl.”

Joel hums as you sob and twitch and writhe, nowhere to go while he punishes you. It feels like your tender flesh is going numb and becoming more tender with each pass, somehow, all that sensation mingling together impossibly until your mind is screaming with panic each time his hand lifts up. When he takes his hand off your lower back and there’s a moment of peace, you don’t even move. You just shudder and hiccup, hands shaking. The clink of his belt, the sound of a zipper. His deep groan and then a hot, slick feeling against your ass cheek.

Joel’s cock. He rubs the leaking, fat head of his cock over all that burning, welted expanse. It hurts. It makes your stomach flip. He does that for a moment and then his fingers are gently probing between your thighs. Even with them pressed together, he works himself where he wants to go, parting your slit and feeling you there.

“You’re soaked,” he mumbles.

“S-Sorry, Daddy,” you whine. Oh, god, his scoff of a laugh.

“Thought you didn’t need no daddy, remember?” After a beat in which you’re too humiliated and confused to answer, Joel’s humming again, pushing one thick finger inside of your cunt, then two. “S’okay. Normal for baby girls to get wet for their daddies after a hard spankin’. But we ain’t through - not yet. Just a little more.”

He clucks his tongue again and shushes you as you whimper a weak protest.

“None of that. Be good. Be good for Daddy, sweet thing. Little more.”

The rest of the spanking is so much more intense; there’s been a moment to cool down, to start relaxing away from the sharp, burning pain of it all, and it’s so fucking rough going all the way back to 100 after that. His fingers are wet with your own fluids and it makes the spanking worse, somehow. He goes out of his way to press his broad palm right up against your cunt, grinding the heel of it so that your wetness covers his skin. He delivers the hardest slap yet with that hand, a deep, predatory sound coming up from his chest. It scares you. The fear is fleeting, however, as the hot wave of blinding pain rushes up your spine and it’s almost like you’re whiting out, just for a second. Tiny, glittering sparkles waver in and out of the edges of your vision for that moment before they burn out like fireflies, and you realize that you’re moaning, wailing. It’s like your hearing comes back into focus, your mind viciously slamming back into your own body after Joel nearly beat it out of you.

You’ve never shaken this hard before, not really. Not from anything like this.

Joel’s cock is back against your ass and it stings so fucking bad when he drags his slippery cockhead over his own welted handprints. He strokes himself and the sound of it is so lewd, seemingly louder than your own choked sobs.

“Hurts pretty bad, huh, darlin’? I’m sorry I had to do that to you,” he says, and his voice is still that deep, low tone, but instead of anger, there’s a kind of tenderness there. A warmth. “Understand why Daddy had to give you a lickin’ though, don’t you?”

“Yes…” The word barely comes out whole, drawn high and shuddering like your gasps.

“Yeah?”

“Yes, Daddy, I - I’m… I’m s-sorry fuh-f-for -”

“Shush, now - no more’a that. Just let Daddy make you feel good, babygirl. Mean part’s over.”

Joel fits those long, big fingers back against your cunt, rubbing your clit in slow circles. Gentle - lovingly, almost. He does this for a long few moments while you catch your breath, murmuring little words of praise. Done so good for me. Just breathe. Good girl. Go ahead, let it out; give it all over to your Daddy. And soon enough, you’re throbbing, rocking back a little against his touch. His cock rests against the back of your thigh and you focus on the way it pulses against you, little twitches. It’s dripping, there, a hot, slippery gathering of it on your skin. Feels so warm. So do you. Your face, your aching cunt, your poor, abused ass.

Joel leaves your clit and his hands are gingerly at your waist, helping you to roll to your back as he gazes down at you.

“I know, I know. Know it’s all sore. Lemme make it better.”

God, he’s gorgeous. Big, broad, his heavy cock freed from his jeans and visibly throbbing. His eyes are so soft and heavy-lidded, licking his lips as he parts your thighs and gazes down at your pretty, pink pussy, open and swollen like some delicious little gift, like ripe fruit. Just for him.

“Baby… oh, lookit you. All this for me, huh?” Joel pushes his fingers slowly inside, crooking them to nudge against that spot inside that makes you gasp, makes your spine arch just a little bit. “That’s it - so good.”

Joel leans down between your thighs until you feel his breath against your molten, waiting flesh, his fingers still working that spot inside of you. He drags the flat of his tongue up the open seam of your cunt and moans, losing himself in the act of worshipping you like this. Making it all better - what a good Daddy. Maybe you can be good, after all. You could.

You allow your eyes to slide shut as you rock your hips against his ministrations, already so embarrassingly close for him. He inhales through his gorgeous nose and hums in pleasure, taking in your scent - that’s what he’s doing. Fuck. This realization pushes you even closer and there it is - the slow roll over the edge, falling down into that star-filled wave that has you gasping.

“Daddy, I’m fucking - oh, my god, it’s so - it’s -”

Joel only moves a little faster, a little deeper, milking your climax for everything it’s worth. He doesn’t want to put you off track, doesn’t want to fuck up the trajectory. The way your cunt flutters and twitches around his fingers makes him squeeze his free hand around the base of his cock, groaning, forcing himself to wait. He wants to take all of it from you - it’s his, after all. It’s all for Daddy.

When your loud moans melt off into sweet, keening little whimpers, Joel pulls away, sucking his fingers clean and steadying his hands up underneath your knees, pushing gently forward until you’re bent in half.

“Gunna be a lot, little girl,” he murmurs, eyes on yours. He grinds his hips and the weight of his body hovering over yours, his dick on your pussy, the sheer pressure of the thick head as he presses it up against your hole has you scared all over again. “Might hurt a little, but it’s a good hurt. Ready for Daddy? Wanna hear it.”

“… yes.”

“You know what I need to hear. Try again.”

“Yes, Daddy, I’m… ready for you.” Oh, you sound so pathetic, so small and nervous. Your big, shining eyes, lashes still wet. Lips all pink and parted like your beautiful slit.

“That’s my fuckin’ girl.” Joel sinks his cock inside little by little, thrusting shallowly in and out to gather your own mess all over his length. Easing the passage the best he can, memorizing the way your brows draw together and you wince with each passing inch. “Daddy’s gotcha. Daddy’s gotcha…”

He whispers it like a mantra as he reaches up to tenderly wipe new tears from your eyes. They gather there, big fat drops that roll silently down the sides of your temples to wet your hairline.

It’s not hard to melt you against him, and he shifts, bending you just a bit further now that he can sheath his long, thick cock all the way inside. It grinds softly up against your cervix as he waits there a beat, hissing a breath through his clenched teeth as he enjoys the slight discomfort of your tight little pussy around him.

“Fuck, honey… y’perfect,” he murmurs, rolling his hips. He works into a new rhythm, knowing he won’t be able to last long. Not with you all pressed beneath him and whining with all that flush on your cheeks, down your chest. That spray of freckles glow against the fever-spots of your cheekbones and Joel stills himself only for a moment, lest he cums on the spot. Just a little more. Just a little fucking longer.

By the time he absolutely can’t hold it in anymore, his heavy balls bouncing off the warm flesh of your ass, he reaches up to stroke your face. He pushes a thumb between your lips and there’s not a single word exchanged; you take him in, cheeks hollowing slightly as you suck. You wrap your hands around his strong forearm as if to keep him there, and you suppose it’s true - the feeling of the rough pad of his thumb over your tongue is intoxicating. Soothing.

Joel looks as though he’s in agony, and then he’s fucking into you hard enough that he can feel your teeth on this thumb as you lose focus, and fuck - you’re cumming for him again. It’s gorgeous, the sound of your tortured moans as it catches you by surprise, fingers trembling and digging into him a little. There’ll be tiny, crescent-shaped hints of your nails there later on, and he’ll run his lips over them when you’re not paying attention.

Joel grunts with each brutal thrust and finally the pressure bursts. He pumps his cum as deeply as he can, bodies flush together until you’re squirming.

“Be good, baby, you c’n take it - fuck, let Daddy fill you up…”

Joel sounds like an animal as he shoots his load in thick, hot ropes. He’s so utterly deep that if you focus, you can feel each little spurt right up against your battered cervix, each contraction as he empties his balls into you. He hangs down low enough that you manage to push up and kiss the bridge of his nose. A shiver runs up his spine and gasps, nuzzling mindlessly into it.

He unfolds your legs, slowly bringing them back down before he pulls out of your body and lies beside you. You’re both panting, and Joel traces his fingers over the ball of your shoulder as you come down in the comfortable silence. You’ve never felt this exhausted in your life. You can’t seem to muster any energy at all, eyes slipping shut. All there is are the sounds outside the window, Joel’s even breathing, the almost imperceptible rasp of his rough fingers on your soft skin.

“Feelin’ better? …get all the poison out?” His voice, so soft for once. You nod and he exhales an amused little laugh through his nose. Even with your eyes shut, you can feel his wry, handsome smile. “That’s my girl.”

[goodishgirlx]

i just want you to use me as a stress toy is that so wrong

[narcissistichedonist]

"oh ? is that begging i hear ?"

your thighs are trembling, slick dripping down between them, a pretty yet pathetic mess. you've been here for hours : teetering on the edge, shoved past it, then dragged right back again. hands gripping the sheets, breath hitching, body twitching with every cruel touch

"thought you were being so good for me," i murmur, thumb pressing down against your throbbing clit. just enough pressure to make you jolt, not enough to push you over. "but look at you now. whining, squirming, acting like a desperate little whore."

your voice breaks on another sob, hips bucking up, chasing the friction i refuse to give you. you should know better by now. should know that every needy little movement, every gasped-out plea only makes me want to ruin you more

"please..."

"please, what ? use your words, sweetheart."

"let me cum, please..."

i laugh, low and mean. "let you ? after all that attitude ? after all that mouthing off ?" my grip tightens, pinning your writhing hips in place. "no, no, no. you don’t get to decide when this ends. i do."

your body betrays you. shuddering and clenching without a single word. so fucking easy to read. so fucking easy to break

"you really thought i’d let you have it, didn’t you?" i coo, tone dripping with mockery. "poor thing. so dumb and fucked out, you’ll believe anything i say."

and then, i let go. pull my hands away, leave you empty, untouched, trembling on the brink once again.

you cry, a raw, broken sound, the realization hitting you all at once.

"shh, don’t cry," i mock, gently stroking a thumb across your damp cheek, feigning sympathy. "you should’ve known better than to think i’d actually let you cum."

[little-computer]

Puppy's New Muzzle

(MDNI)

[t4t, soft sad!stic fem domme x pathetic mas0chistic puppygirl sub, petpl4y, fearpl4y, snvff, n3cr0philia, s4d0masoch1sm, crying, breathpl4y, suff0cation, breath den1al, teasing, praise k!nk, fake s4fe w0rd, clicker]

"What do you think of this one?" Caretaker asked. I hadn't been paying attention because I was too busy savoring Caretaker letting me sleep with her instead of in my cage. She usually only did this on special occasions, like for my birthday. I guess she was just feeling really nice today!

"Ohhh, puppy likes that one!" I responded. She was shopping for these pretty tombstone-shaped earrings and showing me different options. Caretaker always had such pretty fashion sense...

"Yeah? Puppy likes how that type of tombstone looks?" Caretaker asked.

"Mhm mhm!" I wagged my hips. Caretaker pulled me closer and kissed me on the forehead as she put her phone away.

"Good puppy!" she encouraged. I nuzzled into her. She was treating me so well tonight... "Hey, since you've been so good lately, Caretaker has a gift for you!"

"Really?" I responded as my hip wagging sped up.

"Mhm. Caretaker thinks you'll really love it." She scooted over to the nightstand by the bed and pulled the gift out of a drawer. I sat up and tried to get a good look at it.

"Is that a new muzzle for me?" I asked excitedly.

"Mhm. Does puppy wanna try it on?" she held it up to me. I quickly nodded and she replaced my old muzzle with the new one. The first thing I noticed about it was how bulky and full it was. Puppy's old muzzle was like a frame you could see through but this one was totally solid. It was so solid that I even noticed holes on the front to breath through. "That feel snug puppy?" Caretaker asked warmly. To be honest, it almost felt too snug. It seemed to have a seal around my face that pressed down hard and the straps were tight. But puppy really didn't wanna disappoint Caretaker...

"Yes Caretaker" my voice sounded a bit muffled through the muzzle.

"I'm glad you like it, you look so adorable right now." I wagged my hips and looked up at her as she knelt beside me. "I haven't even shown puppy the best part yet. Look at this" she pulled out a small device not even the size of her thumb. It almost looked like a coin on first glance. It seemed to have a plastic basin with a single sliding switch that could toggle between two states.

"What's tha-"

Click

The switch of a servo emanated from the muzzle and reverberated through my skull -- the rest of my words didn't come out. I started panicking before I could even process what was happening. I saw her cover her mouth to hide her giggle.

"Hold your breath silly! You don't wanna be breathing in all that CO2." she teased. I did as she told me, but it only stifled the panic a little. I started to realize what was happening; the mask had sealed around my face so no air could get in or out. I desperately pawed at her -- maybe if I was pathetic enough she would help me. "Need something puppy?" My forming tears were wetting my eyes almost as fast as my underwear was getting wet. I held onto her tight and tugged at her. I wanted to whimper and beg her but nothing came out. Instead, all that energy made me start faintly bucking my hips without even meaning to.

Her expression -- which had been a kind of playful amusement -- was now more sharp and harsh. She glanced down at my pathetic air-humping, then back into my pleading eyes. "Puppy has the right idea. Don't be shy." she said, angling her thigh toward me. I needed to whimper for her so bad. I pulled myself onto her and began humping her thigh with all I could. I nuzzled and clutched her hard as my building orgasm blurred with the firestorm of panic, every cell in my body screaming for oxygen, screaming to cum. Her arms remained calmly by her sides, refusing to react to puppy.

I looked up at her expression again. Her smile was mostly gone now yet she somehow looked more turned on than I'd ever seen her. We locked eyes. She offered a grain of warmth in the form of a subtle head tilt and a slight smile at me. I was starting to get dizzy now, but I could feel the orgasm coming. "Almost there darling" she encouraged, reading me like a book. I locked my head to her chest and sobbed into her tits as I came all over her thigh.

Click

I gasp-moaned -- I could breath again. Caretaker's arm gently caressed my head as I choked out a couple sobs through my heavy breaths and the stars in my vision dissipated. "Good puppy." she comforted, gently petting me as I panted into her chest. I began to calm down a little. "You can cum really fast when you have to, can't you puppy?" she teased. I look up at her and gave her my best whimper, pleading she would take pity on me -- I didn't wanna break her rule about not speaking without permission during sex, I needed to show her I was a good puppy. Caretaker acknowledged my effort with a half smile before continuing. "Isn't it incredible they can fit Bluetooth into something this small?" she showed me the device between her fingers. I felt my legs trembling and my eyes watering at the very sight of it.

Click

Her thumb moved up a quarter of an inch and I couldn't breath again. The panic and tears returned immediately, having just barely left in the first place. I looked at her face and pleaded with my eyes. She looked down at me for a moment, drinking up my expression.

Click

"Oops, sorry puppy, my mistake." she said casually. "They really shouldn't have made the switch so small, huh?" I tugged at her and tried my hardest to whimper at her through my panting -- pleading her with my eyes to give me permission to speak. I needed to beg her to let me breath, I needed to promise to do anything she wanted, I needed to submit to her. "It's ok puppy, you can speak" she said.

I pleaded "Pl- please Caretaker, please let me-"

Click

"Just kidding" Caretaker could barely hold in her laugh. She looked down into my eyes. She tried to cover her mouth but only managed to hold it in a couple seconds. Puppy felt a droplet of spit hit my cheek as she laughed in puppy's face -- I leaked a little. "Well? What are you waiting for puppy?" Caretaker managed to get out in between laughs. She nudged her thigh forward slightly.

I smeared the cum from my previous orgasm all over myself as I desperately bucked into her thigh. With my eyes locked to hers, I non-verbally told her out badly I needed to breath, how panicked I was getting, how I would do anything she wanted me to do, anything. Caretaker smiled back at me warmly, her eyes were glistening with euphoria at the sight of my desperation. With her free hand, Caretaker guided my hand down to her cock. My eyes widened with hope at the chance to earn my right to breath.

I was getting dizzy now but I focused all I had; I nuzzled my head into her shoulder and started touching her, making sure I didn't stop humping. The room was completely quiet except for the faint sounds of friction of the sheets, the steady hum of a radiator in the background, and Caretaker's occasional giggles. Seconds passed. My tears dripped onto her neck. Desperation grew unbearable. I realized this wasn't working, I needed a new idea. I tried scooping a handful of my cum from her thigh to spread it on her cock but my hand was shaking so bad I spilled it on the bed. She laughed at that. My body screamed for air. I tried again and managed to get some of my cum onto her without spilling. I desperately stroked, praying that my cum was a worthy enough lubricant to get her off.

I looked up at her face to see if any of this was working; she was just grinning at me. She looked so turned on but I just knew that it had nothing to do with my pathetic attempts to pleasure her -- or maybe my failure was exactly the reason. She cocked her head, amused. "You can always use your safe word if it's too much puppy" she said playfully. My eyes widened with hope again -- I remembered our nonverbal safe word and began desperately tapping her stomach with my hand. I knew relief would come any second come on come on. I looked back to her face to see what was happening. Her mouth was open in playful look of shock "Aww I can't believe you actually believed that. Caretaker has to work on her sarcasm, doesn't she puppy?"

I was trembling. The desperate screams for air coming from every corner of my body were drowned out by the growing realization that Caretaker might actually kill me, that puppy had no way to stop her. The tears were flowing now -- I was so scared to die. My head was hurting so much too. I had to cum, she let me breath last time I did, it was my only hope. I focused on humping her leg but I was getting weak now. My grip on her was loosening. Fuck, maybe this was it. I limply looked back up at her, my vision only half-working. She looked right into my eyes and then past them. She was lustful at getting to watch me die.

I only had one more idea. As I looked into her thirsty eyes, I imagined her using my corpse after she killed me. I imagined how turned on she'd get fucking my lifeless head. I imagined her moans and laughs. I felt the tingle of an orgasm. I imagined her cumming inside my body, cumming harder than she ever did when I was alive. My orgasm was growing. I tried to move my hand down to help myself -- I felt so guilty, I knew it was against the rules but I was so desperate to live. I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die I kept thinking to myself. Caretaker gently deflected my hand with a giggle -- I had no strength left to resist.

Focus puppy, focus. I continued weakly humping her thigh, now imagining her burying me somewhere remote, her looking down at my body splayed in a dirt hole. I imagined us both in that grave, covered in dirt, as she decides to use me one last time. I was so close, so close. My vision was cutting out now. My arm flailed for the remote -- Caretakers' arm gracefully dodged, barely even having to move. "Bye bye, puppy" she teased. Something about that was enough to send me over. My cock trembled and a few exhausted drips of cum slid down the side of her leg. "Aww, was that you cumming a second time? Soo adorable. I'm impressed you managed to pull that off at the last possible minute puppy, I really am." My muscles gave up. I collapsed against her soft shoulder. I had no strength left as the world began to fade away. "Don't worry darling, I'll put your pretty puppy corpse to good use. You were such a good pet for me. Go to sleep now baby."

[bitin-and-barkin]

Keeping him in line

Warnings: Gunfucking, facefucking, shoe humping, sub Dutch, he's like super pathetic honestly, humiliation (Dutch Receiving), degradation, gender neutral reader, dom reader, the reader is SO fucking mean, Dutch deserves it tho, masochism, pain kink, anal, smut, all consensual dw, I like to think this could've stopped the downfall of the gang

-------------------------------------------------------

Thinking about being an "old friend" of Dutch.

Used to go out robbing with him back in the day, until some crap went down. He thought you died, and you thought the same for him. But after the blackwater incident, a long overdue meeting happens when you both try to rob the same train.

Thinking about him "Inviting" (practically begging) you to join him, even though you both know you're doing damn well on your own.

Thinking about once you graciously agree, he's consulting you for every little thing, saying something along the lines of "let me consult the missus/mister" before he plans any jobs, finally taking SOMEONE'S advice other than his own. Treating you like Hosea, like himself. A higher up, a leader, despite you having never set foot in this gang in over 10, 15, years.

Thinking about him insisting that you don't have to do any of the "dirty work" if you don't feel like it. Barking orders at others to "take care of it" while dragging you back to his tent for no reason at all, other than to just smoke and drink and chat about everything and nothing.

Thinking about others being weirded out and slightly jealous of all the praise and approval you get from him, with even Molly questioning if he's sweet on you. Everyone is thinking it, that maybe he had something going on with you in the past. But, even when he was with Annabelle? He had never treated her this kindly.

Thinking about him catching glances at your fingers while you handle your gun, the way you draw it and shoot in the blink of an eye. Watching your hands move as you play poker at camp, making everybody else at the table go broke.

Thinking about him watching the way your chest heaves in and out after a gunfight. Watching the way your silver tongue talks them into money and out of trouble, even better than he or Hosea can.

Thinking about him stating he needs to "take a break" with Molly due to him "needing some time alone" while she watches him talk to you the same way he used to chat with her, but with actual longing in his eyes.

Thinking about you talking to him, almost down to him, with a certain smug look on your face as he looks at you with a certain devotion on his. You calling out the flaws in his ideas and plans, doubting him, doing things that would get anybody else labeled as a traitor. But not you. Anybody but you. As when you do it? All he can do is sit there and take it.

Thinking about you pushing him down by the chest where he sits anytime he does something or says something that you don't like. Knocking his drink out of his hand in front of everybody when he gets too out of line.

Thinking about punishing him for his behavior at night, taking long drags of his cigar and putting it out on his arm as you grip his hair and shove his face into his bed as you fuck him into the sheets.

Thinking about you leaving bruises on his neck after you choke him too hard for being too mean to one of his boys or after one of his infamous plans fuck up once again.

Thinking about making him rut up against your boot as you face fuck him, saying he isn't deserving of even touching you, and if he wants release he has to work for it himself. Stating that your shoes better be shining when he's done down there as he rubs his dick against your spurs, desperate for friction.

Thinking of you fucking him with his own gun after he begs you for more, with you degrading him for getting a hard on. Asking him what the Pinkertons, what his gang, would think if they learned that Dutch Van Der Linde himself is no more than a common whore. One barely good enough to fuck. Saying that maybe you should turn him in, that way you can use the money to buy a whore that actually does what they're told.

Thinking about him crying into your lap as he begs for release, and all you do is laugh at him and shove him off, leaving him alone and aching after you climax and he doesn't. Knowing that he needs this punishment to keep him in place.

Thinking about him palming himself for the rest of the night and choking himself with a tie you got him a long time ago, fucking himself stupid with your gun which you left in his tent. But it's not enough. Such a greedy boy. It's never enough for him.

That's why you have to keep him in line. It keeps him sane.

[narcissistichedonist]

heinously rearranging your guts while lovingly cradling your flushed face in my palm, wiping away the streams of tears you can’t stop shedding

you're so pretty like this, my darling doll

[urxmommy]

Sensitive men are so fucking hot.

[narcissistichedonist]

she broke down in tears because i keep denying her that sweet coveted orgasm that would absolve her from her torturous need

unfortunately, i haven't an ounce of guilt so i'll keep you on the edge, where i like you the best

my darling doll

[pendingtomatoes]

Kieran Duffy NSFW Headcanons

Beware, NSFW writing under the cut! Written by a trans man, but I've done my best to keep things gender-neutral. Also...kink things. You know that. I can't write vanilla sex. (Specifically: puppy play and praise kink)

Always blushing. No matter what, the tips of his ears will be burning, his face red and flushed down his neck to his chest.

Absolutely touch starved. Even innocent touches will make him flustered, never mind any touches that might promise more. Touch his fingers while he's handing you something and his ears will be burning.

Will get hard immediately and is incredibly embarrassed about it. Be it a dirty joke, a gentle touch or just a heated look, Kieran will be straining in his pants and hurrying to hide away somewhere.

Not only does he get hard at an almost alarming speed, but he also shoots off quickly. With some training, he'd be able to last longer, but luckily he enjoys overstimulation and will be able to cum at least twice.

Speaking of shooting quickly, he can and will cum in his pants from a particularly heated make-out session. He immensely enjoys pleasing his partner with his mouth and will rut against their leg while doing so, easily reaching orgasm from humping their leg or boot.

Into puppy play. I'm sorry but call this man a good pup and he will melt instantly. He's really shy about it at first, his partner having to stick to praising him and giving him scratches (especially behind the ears, he will forget how to speak, close his eyes and lean into it so hard he almost falls over). Over time, he starts to be more comfortable with it, happy to be led on a leash or to hump his partner's leg to earn his orgasm. Aside from that, he loves to sit at his partner's feet while they do something else, resting his head on their thigh and looking for pets.

Very averse to pain and humiliation (who would've guessed), so he needs a lot of praise and a lot of preparation if he's the one getting fucked.

Speaking of that, Kieran much prefers getting fucked. He's a bit self-conscious about his size (a bit smaller than average) and will only top if his partner is taking charge (though he does love it when they praise him during it, really boosting his self-esteem by telling him how good he fills them up and how nicely he fits).

Very easily goes non-verbal during sex. If he manages to say anything, it's all pleading or thanking his partner, but it's mostly just noises.

On the topic of noises, Kieran definitely whines nonstop. He'd try so hard to be quiet, but he can't hold his noises back, even if he's near camp. He will be mortified afterwards, but in the moment he is impossible to shut up. Even if gagged he will still somehow be loud. So naturally, everyone is going to tease him about it.

Overstimulate him enough and he will cry. If you keep going after he's cum twice he will be fully sobbing and begging to stop, but he will thank you profusely if you do indeed keep going (you will have to insist on setting a safe word with him, he can be quite unclear on if he actually needs to stop sometimes.)

Also definitely cries a little after sex. He loves the feeling of laying together afterwards and wants to be held close, and just feels so at peace he can't help himself.

[crybxbyboy]

I love sickly sweet or encouraging sadists. The ones who will call you sweet pet names or tell you how well you’re doing while they spank and slap you to tears or force themselves inside you. Especially when you only get that feedback when you’re showing how much it hurts. “There you go, baby, just like that,” moaned out when I finally start crying as they force my holes open would make me come immediately.