The powerful effect of words can never be underestimated.
I’ve been gently mocked with the suggestion that it doesn’t matter what is actually said, that the right tone of rapey-voice at just the right growly volume can make me melt or have me orgasm at your will; that can be true but only for certain individuals and to a certain extent, before I can get to that point words are essential to explain your intent.
Words are powerful, intent is important. An essential element of pushing my buttons is coming with the right intentions… It is specific and individual to me; nothing for the sake of it all very deliberate.
Hurt me because I can take it. Not because I’m bad, I did something wrong, I angered or upset you but because you can and you know how well I will endure it. Tell me how good I’m being, how I’m suffering because I’m tough, enduring the pain because I’m hardcore. Tell how proud you are of the punishment I took.
Call me names and tell me I’m filthy because it’s a positive thing. Reinforce my behaviour, especially if it is incredibly deviant and I’m flushed with shame-faced blushes because I shouldn’t find it arousing. Use the most degrading of insults, whore, slut, cock hungry fuck-puppy, because that’s exactly what you want from me. Point out how I’m getting off on what others might find disgusting and you’re finding it hot too.
Tease me because you’re the one in control. I will be told to wait and I will obey; I will control myself and I will do it because you say so. Find that fine balance between teasing and losing my interest by using to words to keep the connection. Threaten or promise rewards to come. “I will make you cum like a waterfall but for now you’re going to hold for me, aren’t you? You’re not going to cum yet…”
Make me do something I don’t want to do because you find it hot and because you can. Force me to push myself because it’s good for me and it’s hot for you. Tell me, as well as show me, how what I’m doing is a turn on for you. Humiliate me because you find it arousing, because you like the power dynamic or just because it’s filthy.
Make it wrong-hot because of the taboo, because we both know this is perverse and yet we’re enjoying it, connected in this deviant act. Please especially make it wrong- hot; wrong-hot makes this puppy tick. Take something that ordinarily wouldn’t be so and pervert it
Like simply using his hands to make me cum. Fingering, ‘just’ fingering, made all of the wrong hot with his words….
I’d pounced Lien on the sofa, my intent just for kisses and snuggles yet he’d worked his hand under my dress and teased me to a whimpering panting puppy, stroking my lips, pinching them and putting pressure on my cunt through my underwear until all I wanted was penetration.
“In…” I pant desperately, the soaked fabric saying as much as my words.
“Let’s take you and relieve you….” He promises…and delivers. Pinning me down and stripping away my underwear with violent abandon. He crams his fingers into my mouth to act as lube. The choking effect making me even wetter.
“How many do you want? Do you want three?…” I don’t have a chance to answer before he jams his fingers into my cunt, holding me down by the throat to stop me bucking. The force making me bark and pant.
Orgasm after orgasm rocks through me as he jokes that he needs a clicker to keep count. Each time leaving his fingers inside me and keeping relentless rhythm, taunting. “I’m still going…I’m not stopping…whimper all you like…”
His face, whilst forcedly pounding at me, is a mixture of pure intensity and smugness at the effect he’s having. I can’t stop watching him fucking me with his hand, in between pants I tell him,“Fuuuuuuuck, you’re hot” he briefly smiles before lowering his head down to bite my cunt and inner thighs, keeping up the rhythm that bringing orgasms closer and closer together.
His teeth against my sensitive skin makes squeal, rocking myself upwards, only to be pushed back down by my throat, manoeuvring himself to lay down next to me, pinning me down with his weight.. One arm trapped under him, the other held by the wrist. His face is next to mine, heavy breathing and whispering menacingly in my ear as I plead for him to let up.
“Are you broken? You’re not are you? You just a little cumming machine. This is what you’re built for…”
I shake my head, no, no, I can’t take any more. “You’ve got more left in you…” my objections met with firm refusal to stop. I try to buck my hips away, I have no arms free to fight or push him away.
I could feel the wrong-hotness of his intent to make it filthier, tapping into what he knows pushes my buttons, to connect with me on a deviant, taboo level. Understanding that words and intent are key to me, each sentence he speaks acts as a catalyst for another explosion…
“I’m just raping you with my fingers now. You like that. Forcing the orgasms out of you…You like me raping you…”