First read ZG’s appeal: “Do you know what I did last night?!?“
It starts out simple enough. You are bruised and beaten about the chest and thighs, leaving little meat to play with RBP-style. No problem, I have other ways of making you uncomfortable. I run through the list, seeing what might be fun for both of us. Negotiations can be a real pain in the ass (or not) when playing with your SO. You can lay together, all lovey-dovey, and coo sweet nothings about how there are no limits between the two of us and all is fine and good… until I try and sleep with your sister. I guess we do have a few limits, don’t we? So back and forth we go. I tell you what I am going to do, you give me that look that says, “Really? That is what you want to do tonight?” Eventually we land on psychological play. Brilliant! After that little passive aggressive banter about what we both want, I really feel like making you cry.
I fix you a drink. A nice strong French Martini and sit down to chat and perv on FL while you drink it. Just before getting up to go play, I head out for a cigarette and you join me. You say, “Can I have another drink? The smoke makes my throat scratchy.”
Hmmmmm… If I make you another drink it will mean waiting until you drink it to play (est. 20 min) but it will also mean that you are drunk and fucking a drunk ZG is like playing with a drunk sorority girl, all bets are off. So I make you another drink. Ten minutes into your second drink I am ready to go, so I tell you to pound the drink. You obey like a good like alcohol-soaked slut, put the glass down in my hand and start down the hall towards our bedroom. There is a very visible list to left as you stumble along. I take the glass to the kitchen and head down the hall behind you.
I open the door to the bedroom and you are laying across the bed half drunkenly, half seductively. You are wearing a sleeping dress and no panties so your ass is sticking out, just asking to be played with. I pull you up to your knees and start to undress you like a fuck toy. You are falling into the role, leaving you arms where I put them and not moving as I roughly remove your clothes. While your body is behaving, you mouth is not and you start to sass about the way I am handling you. You say that I’m not being nice, that I’m being mean.
I grab the Whitehead gag and put it into your mouth. You refuse to open up and I force your jaws apart to the point you let out a little whimper. I take a hood and put it over your head and then push you down into the pillow and smack your ass until it is high enough in the air to put undue strain on your face and neck when I fuck the living shit out of you. I tie your arms behind your back and weave the excess rope between your toes. You love that shit.
I start you off by fingering your G-spot and pushing you closer and closer to orgasm while telling you not to cum. You start begging and after a few minutes I think you are primed so I pull the fingers out. What a wet mess. I let you rest for a moment and start in with the verbal abuse.
One of the biggest challenges that we have experienced with mindfucking in the past is that you know me and I know you, and the certain level of doubt and fear that is needed to really get a game going is often hard for us to reach. Part of this is because you trust me implicitly and have faith in our relationship, so most threats and verbal attacks ring hollow. Add to this that most of the times we’ve played with psychological sadism has been in connection with jealousy or anger play, so when the words do ring true they have a tendency to ring very true. But we are nothing if not persistent, so onward I push. I start in easy.
You are wet as all hell so I ask why you always want to play drunk or while you are asleep. Is it because you can’t stand me? Because you can’t get wet? Is your cunt broken or just your brain?
Soft whimpers. Okay, this is good. You are getting nervous about where we are going. You have a date in a few days and I ask you about him. Is he going to fuck you? You know he doesn’t want to fuck you. Nobody wants to fuck you. You are so desperate you might as well ask people on the street to fuck you. Protests and whines come through the gag.
Has he called you? No, because he is too busy with other girls! You know he’s playing with other people that he would rather fuck. You know how many of them he would prefer to fuck than you? All of them!
You fold. The whining stops. Your face turns down at the corners of your mouth. The gag is starting to affect how well I can read your reactions, so I take it off and ramp up the questions in search of those precious tears. So if X is not interested in fucking you. What about Y? Is he even interested in fucking you? You know he fucks everyone. What makes you so special? One of your partners doesn’t want to fuck you and the other doesn’t care. Where does that leave you?
You sink lower and lower and just as we verge on tears you get quiet. I slap your ass and punch your thighs. You moan and whimper. I take a little break to fuck you. You are a mess. Wet as hell and waiting so I lay into you. As I feel the urge to cum rising, I pull out. My dick is covered in blood.
You dirty little whore! You are bleeding all over me. You groan with embarrassment. I have you lift your head and suck me clean. You like the taste of that? You think your other partners like the taste of that, the smell of that? You are a mess and no one wants to play with you! I pull out a sheet that is for just such occasions and make you lay on your back with your arms pinned beneath. You wriggle around trying to get centered on the sheet and not ruin our bedding. I slap you a couple of times to make you move faster. You finally get squared away and I climb back on top and fuck you some more making sure that you know how thoroughly disgusted I am. You fall into the fucking and lose yourself. This is all hot and good, but it is not getting us where we want to be, which is with you as a tear-soaked mess and me cumming on your face. What I need to do is get off the physical humiliation and start working on the harder psychological aspects.
What do you bring to a playdate other than tits and a high pain threshold? No response. I throw in some more abuse to get a reaction.
You know you are being left behind for other girls, don’t you? Nothing. More beating, spanking and general abuse to prime your body and counterpoint the emotional with the physical.
You know you can’t get anyone you play with hard? Slap! Zip. You know you are unattractive? Punch! Zilch. You know you are selfish, you’re ruining our marriage, you’re a bad mother!!! Bite, scratch, punch! Crickets. Silence.
You have gone inside yourself so deeply that you have completely shut down. I am not sure if I should consider this a win or a loss. I mean the point was to break you, right? What is more broken than catatonia? The problem is that while you may be broken, I really want the tears, the bawling, the warped sad ugly face that means that you have lost all sense of self. I need to snap you out of it so I can get behind you and fuck you some more.
Hard, cervix-bruising fucking accessorized with punches to the ass and thighs. I grab the rope holding your arms and force you back onto me harder and harder. I tell you to push back, to work at it for a change, and you make a feeble attempt to push back. I pull out and jump off the bed.
Fuck it! You don’t want to try I will find someone who will! I pull on my pants and grab my phone. I storm out of the room, slamming the door as well as I can without waking up everyone in our building. I head out to the kitchen and turn on the chime for the security system so you can hear the back door opening as I leave. I walk quietly back up the hallway listening for signs of life. Nothing. I open the door and you are in the same position that I left you. Un-fucking-believable.
Are you asleep?!? Are you that jaded, that much of a whore, that you don’t even notice when I’m gone? You try to argue and tell me that you are awake. Then what the fuck happened? You don’t care whether I am here or not? You stupid cunt! I untie your legs and arms and turn you over. Your head goes back and smacks the foot of the bed with a thud. I laugh and pull you back onto the bed and fold you in half touching your knees to your chest. I grab your hair and try to rip clumps of it out with every thrust. You grimace and gasp. Does that hurt? I am hoping you say yes, but you say no and I realize that you are too gone to even feel anything. I think it’s time to finish this off.
I turn you over and have you put your arms under you in the classic molester missionary style. I grab your shoulders and continue to fuck you. The mess between you legs is insane, wet beyond belief. You are enjoying this way too much, so I pull out and drive into your ass. You gasp and I quickly get up a good pace. Again the whimpering starts and again I ask if it hurts. Again, you say no. Dear god, bitch, you are insatiable! I speed up and cum hard in your ass and then before you have a chance to catch your breath I start again, redoubling my efforts for a second orgasm deep in your ass. And. I. Am. Done.
I get up and go to bathroom to clean up leaving you laying in the middle of the bed with cum slowly dripping from your ass. When I come back I have to get you up and put your head on the pillow at the other end of the bed. You take the cue and roll out of bed to get cleaned up. I lay down and quickly fall into an orgasm-induced coma.