wickedlvst

thinking about legally mandated free use sluts <3 if someone tells you you have to bend over and take it you do. your body is absolute public property and if someone on the subway wants to pull you onto their cock and rape you on their way to work they can and you have to thank them for the load they pumped into you or they have the right to punish you. if someone thinks your shirt covers up too much they're fully within their rights to pull it down and under your tits to make sure everyone gets to see and properly enjoy them. strangers walking past take the time to pinch your nipples or slap your ass just to watch you squirm

"conservative? maybe if you're goin' to that strip club beside the old movie theatre downtown", despite how the thought of his girl going out dressed like that distressed denver he couldn't help but chuckle. "you dance too much in that outfit and i'll come right off honey", and yet denver was still opening his wallet for her, the damn sucker he was for his step-daughter. her mother hated how he doted on her, said it'd make her spoiled and ungrateful ; but that wasn't really true, was it? "only the best for you honey, now . . . ", fingers hold the bill just out of her reach, brows pulling together in a show of seriousness. "this money is just for you, alright blair? let those friends of yours buy their own drinks, you enjoy yourself with this." the mixed messages would probably send a therapist off the edge of a cliff, but declining his sweet girl was just never going to happen. "fuck no you don't", stern tone of voice is accompanied by a tightened hold on her waist, "any of those fuckin' pricks dare touch you like that and i'll kill 'em blair. got plenty of land around this ranch, you remember that." head shakes in complete dismay at her reasoning, how she was so desperate for a good time that she'd willingly become someone's drugged up fuck doll. "baby, you wanna have some fun you don't need to do that — hell you don't even need to leave this house."

"hmm, maybe that are our actual plans", blair responded in tone that left it in the dark whether she was simply joking or actually serious. was he now thinking about what she'd look like stripping and potentially giving a guy the same age as him a lapdance? did he want her to do it for him? her head tilted to the side as she observed him taking the money out of his wallet, a little smirk playing around her the corners of her plump lips. "oh, i will enjoy myself with this", she promised, a coy expression sparkling brightly in her doe eyes, "thank you, daddy. you're the absolute best. i'm so lucky to have a generous daddy like you." eyes widen in surprise when his tone changes to stern and serious all of a sudden and his hold tightens on her. "you'd kill for me, daddy?", she asked softly, sounding nowhere nearly as intimidated as she probably should and all the more curious instead, "you'd kill whatever boy touches me and makes me feel good?" long lashes flutter coyly at him, plump lips curled into the hint of a pout. "i don't wanna play boardgames or whatever you consider fun." oh, now she was definitely playing with fire and she was surely about to get burned, but she simply couldn't help herself right now, not when he dangled that metaphorical carrot right in front of her.

"mhm, now you're getting it," nicola agrees. "and you're all about making things easy for me, aren't you?" that is technically lacey's job as her assistant, after all, even if the requirements are increasingly focused less on handling nicola's calls and more on handling her cock. "of course you can have it. you know, i'm starting to really enjoy spoiling you, kitten." she's smiling warmly to go with her teasing, and she can't resist working in a comfortable squeeze at lacey's hip while she's at it.

the box from their little lunch errand sits on the corner of nicola's desk all afternoon, waiting. it's understated, considering the selective shop's appreciation for subtlety outside their walls, but there is a single black silk ribbon tied around it. nicola ignores it almost artfully, but the sight greets lacey the many times she's in and out of her boss' office, an unusually visual reminder of what awaits them after the workday is over.

"lacey," nicola greets at the sight of her assistant stepping through her door. "in with five minutes left on the clock…" she's just wrapped up her last call for the day, and when she does take lacey home with her, they usually don't stick around. "you know, you've seemed a little distracted today. big plans for tonight?" nicola keeps a straight face with the best of them, leveraged in both the boardroom and a poker table here and there, but she takes it a little easier on lacey. after a couple seconds, she lets the hint of a playful smile quirk the corner of her lips.

it's safe to say that lacey hardly managed to get any real work done for the rest of the afternoon, mind clearly somewhere else. it certainly didn't help that every time she went into nicola's office saw that promising box resting on her desk, distracting her even more. and so when she finally enters her office for the last time of the day - beyond relieved and excited and also just a little bit nervous -, she can't help but blush a little at her boss's question. "i had quite the eventful lunch", the blonde confesses as if nicola wasn't there in the first place, "and might have made some plans for the evening that i didn't expect to make. so yeah, it was a little hard to concentrate on work for the rest of the afternoon, but let's just say i did my best." a sheepish smile graces her rosy lips - with freshly renewed lipstick, safely put on behind her large computer monitor - as she looks at the other. "do you have any plans for the evening?"

*✶𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 for f/nb. | based on that jennifer's body scene.

"Come on, let me stay the night." Tatum's words turned sweeter, almost confidential as she added, "we can play boyfriend and girlfriend like we used to."

creamy cheeks flushed pink at tatum's suggestion. "don't you think we're a little old for that now?", evangeline responded before pearly whites dug into her lower lip, trying her best to keep the memories of those previous play-times from resurfacing in her mind, "i mean we're not like twelve anymore. we have actual boyfriends now." not that much had ever happened with her boyfriend, preferring to take things slow.

It was almost too easy; chastising words flushed the student immediately, leaving her to mumble about how she wanted a good grade. There was nothing to be ashamed of in that confession, and yet the blonde continued to explain herself. “Guess you just have to practice.” The older woman didn’t have to tiptoe around the topic, but she still chose to. Where was the fun in ruining someone if she didn’t get to play with her food first? “We all work hard, Laurie. Just not all the time.” The hand that’d touched her hair drifted down then, slowly, as her eyes remained fixed on hers. Fingertips caressed the line of her clavicle before traveling down, following the curve of her breasts over the blouse she had on. “It could help you to focus on someone else, on obeying like the pretty, diligent thing you are. If you’re just following orders, you don’t have to think about anything.” Alma made it sound like a favor when she suggested, “why don’t we give it a shot? Get down on your knees and let’s see if you can do what you’re told.”

"practice how?", laurie didn't even fully give her the time to finish her sentence before seeking out alma's gaze once more, almost pleading this time as if begging her to help her out. and to be perfectly honest, that was precisely what she was doing for she could understand the words leaving alma's lips, but she didn't truly understand what she was trying to tell her. her breath hitched at the back of her throat when the other's fingertips ran over her collar bone before brushing the swell of her breasts. bottom lip quivered as the blonde's gaze stayed locked with her professor's, absolutely unsure what to do except that she couldn't and wouldn't push her away. the tiniest of frowns built between her eyebrows as she tried to wrap her head around alma's suggestion, but maybe that was precisely what she was hinting at, maybe that was precisely the problem: she thought too much. and so she did the only logical thing: without breaking eye contact, she gracefully albeit quite nervously sank onto her knees, head instinctively tilting back to keep looking at her. "what do you want me to do?"

The spotlight had intimidated Luna for most of her life. She was great when it came to putting on a pretty façade and acting like her heart wasn’t pounding and her palms weren’t sweating, though. Having Sofia’s attention on her and offering a spectacle for her enjoyment felt different from those moments; she felt in control, even when the brunette’s teasing words suggested that such a theory might be too bold for its own good. “No? I think it’s really sweet.” She grinned, the movement of her hips turning slow and torturously controlled. Luna wouldn’t be able to keep it up, not as her glistening pussy began to coat the teddy with her slick. The raven-haired girl chuckled at the evident teasing, warm fingers drifting to the edge of her top. “Yeah, yeah, we’re not all blessed with an ego as big as yours.” There was no way to tell if the roll of her eyes was a product of the stimulation or just a response to her coworker’s taunting, but it didn’t matter. Especially not when she removed the fabric, fighting for a moment with the clasp of her bra before it fell down on the mattress too. “You don’t have to challenge me into getting naked for you, Sof. If you wanted to see my tits, you just had to ask.” Luna choked down a moan, her attention focused on the evident difference between their states. “I wanna see you too—give me a view to fuck myself too; it’s the least you can do.”

"sweet, huh?", sofia repeated, her words laced with obvious amusement as she cocked up one dark eyebrow, "that's certainly not the first word that'd have come to my mind to describe this situation." fucking hot was more like it. the gaze from her dark hues was downright fixed on the dark, wet spot where luna's pussy hit the soft teddy fur, pink tongue darting forward to hydrate her suddenly dry lip. "excuse me? my ego is mediocrely big at the worst", she retorted, words accompanied by a soft chuckle, "it's certainly not big big." though that was probably up for debate. but she also couldn't deny that her ego was immensely flattered by how easily her co-worker took off her top and bra for her, humming in appreciation at the stunning sight revealed to her, instinctively wondering when she might get to touch her. "good to know that you're so eager to fulfill all of my wishes", she teased, subtly sliding a little closer toward her, "might keep that in mind for the future." she paused, head tilting to the side as she considered luna's request. "hmm, i guess it really is only fair that you get something pretty to look at as well." locking her gaze with hers, sofia's finger reached for the seam of her top, quickly pulling it over her head to drop it onto the bed. "is that what you wanted to see?", she asked, purposefully waiting to unclasp her bra to have her spill it out.

I need to be grabbed and groped.

Need your hands all over my tits, sucking on my neck and making me moan and cry in public.

Make me admit I like it, make me say it out loud that I like being violated like this in public because I’m such a whore, I had to have worn this outfit to show off, didn’t I?

Pull my tits out of my bra and squeeze my nipples. Watch me squirm and cry.

Push my underwear to the side so everyone can see my pussy dripping. I can’t deny it if my pussy is glistening and wet.

Whisper in my ear how I’m a slut as person after person fingers me, fucks me, fills me while I’m on your lap.

the confirmation makes dalia beam, delighted by the assurance that she wanted this, that she liked it — though, it's hard to really doubt such when the blonde is arching so beautifully against her hands, silently pleading for more. "i like the thought too, lainey." voice hushed to a whisper, head dipping to bury itself into lainey's neck, to allow her lips to explore the tender skin that awaits her there. her kisses are a contrast to what ivy's tended to be; slow, soft, appreciative. they trail their way along the younger girl's collarbone, down her exposed chest, left hand slipping to lainey's waist so that she could instead explore the mound with her mouth. gentle kisses shower all around it before her lips brush against the hardened nipple, tongue extending to lap at it once, twice, then circling the bud and finally taking it within her mouth with an appreciative hum.

she'd seen lainey in so many ways, defiled her in so many ways — how sweet it was to now see her blushing from a simple touch upon her chest, how sweet it was to see her friend wrapping her mouth around those tits she so enjoyed fondling. "oh, doesn't dalia just look so pretty sucking on your little tits, lainey?" she cooes, her pride in her little sister evident in tone alone. "isn't it so nice to be one of the girls?" girls who had quieted in their teasing and dissolved into giggles and whispers, scattered among the room in clothing that was slowly being stripped, hands and mouths beginning to explore just as dalia's were — though many eyes linger on their new companion. "tell dalia how nice it is. tell her what you want. big girls use their words, lainey."

to be honest, it's downright ridiculous to her that somebody as astonishingly beautiful and cool as dalia would be this excited to play with her, but it's precisely what lainey needs to overcome her shyness at least partially. her head tilts to the side to grant her better access to her neck - a very selfish gesture considering how much she enjoyed these little kisses the brunette trailed down her neck, every single kiss accompanied by the softest of gasps. the appreciative softness of dalia's touches is so unlike anything she usually gets from ivy or even lainey that she doesn't quite know what to make of it. and so she buries her fingers in those silky, dark curls, running her fingers through them both soothingly and encouragingly as dalia devotes her full attention to her breasts. she's so focused on how good she makes her feel that she's already almost completely forgotten about their audience, blocking out the girls behind her as they all start to play with each other, until ivy draws her attention back to them by asking her if it's nice to finally be one of the girls. plump lips curl into a soft smile as she nods in response. "she's just so pretty", she confirms quietly when she realizes that her sister most likely won't be content with her just nodding, "and it feels really, really good. her mouth is just so soft. i've never felt anything like it." head tilts back so that she can look at her sister. "do you enjoy seeing this?"

warning sirens go off in tatum's head at the mention of some girl her boyfriend's been dating since he hit puberty. those girls, when tatum wasn't trying to bed them herself, were always trouble. hard to quit, and even harder to convince to fuck off. though tatum hadn't dated men before, she'd heard enough horror stories from her friends to know keeping a girl around like that for that long is a red flag on its own. if you like her so much, why not just date her? was tatum just a ploy to make the other girl jealous? past experiences push the girl towards spiraling, saved only by a quip by anastasia that has her chuckling. "porn's a fantasy," she says. "i like the reality of sex much better. all the awkward pauses and all." she shakes her head. "are you always this forthcoming with your brother's girlfriends, then? or am i getting the special treatment somehow?"

chuckling, anastasia raises one eyebrow. "i mean i get what you're trying to say, but do you really like the awkward pauses?", she asks, words laces with amusement as her green eyes sparkled mischievously, "because the literal definition of an awkward pause is that it's awkward." and in her experience, that's never a good thing. slim shoulders shrug as tatum brings up a fair point. "honestly? i'm not. at least not usually", the brunette confesses honestly, "and maybe i shouldn't have said anything to you either, but i mean i heard what i heard and it didn't sound great. and to be perfectly honest, you're just way too pretty to waste your time on terrible sex."

sylvie thought she'd made herself obvious enough. she wanted — no, needed — anastasia's help filming something to earn her some quick cash to make rent. she's relieved to know the other is down for it, that the other in fact holds the same sentiment: that partnered content is almost always better than solo work. there was just something wonderful about watching two people work towards their peaks, of seeing a couple enjoy in exploring and partaking in one another's bodies. what sylvie doesn't expect is how soon anastasia is willing to do things. "o-oh, yeah," she says, realizing she herself is hardly ready. "i mean — if you're ready. but like, maybe — maybe we should practice off-camera? i don't want us to look awkward when we do anything on screen. or is that — i swear it's not some ploy to get you in bed with me."

one eyebrow raises questioningly at sylvie's remark all while an amused grin tugs on the corners of her lips. "you swear, hmm?", anastasia responds in a teasing tone, "well, if that's the case, i suppose i can't say no to get a practice round in before we put the camera's spotlight on us." she pauses. "and don't worry, i won't assume you'll try to ravage me", she adds teasingly before running her fingers through ebony strands. "should we head to either one of our bedrooms then or do you think that's too intimate?" scrunching her nose she lets her gaze wander across the living room. "maybe the couch would be more appropriate? i mean it's not like anyone's going to stumble across us out here unless you've invited someone to come over later? and it'd be probably more chill and casual that way?" without waiting for her roomie's response, she's already gliding on said couch, petting the spot next to her to invite sylvie to join her.

thinking about forced intoxication…encouraging a sweet, naive little sub to keep taking hits because “if it isn’t hitting yet, it must not be strong enough.” eventually they’ll get so dizzy that they’ll barely even feel Me moving My hand up their leg and between their thighs.

"no shit?" duncan's crooked grin twitched a little bit wider at the new information, eyebrows shifting upwards in a look of admiration. "a summer camp boning for your first time - that's pretty cinematic." and, honestly, destined to be a dud. he couldn't say that he was surprised when sloane went into the details, already imagining the limited options for sneaky campers : rocking bunkbeds on a cramped twin mattress, getting lost in the woods just to get a poison ivy rash down there, or maybe getting caught in the boathouse. that last one was a tried-and-true choice — duncan's favorite, personally, whenever he snuck away with a fellow counselor during free swim. but any of those for a first time experience, complete with fumbling hands and premature orgasms? underwhelming as hell. letting sloane snag the flask back, duncan's face scrunched up, a sympathetic chuckle falling from his lips. "i think you're lucky, honestly," he returned, shrugging as they walked. he cocked out his elbow a little, purposefully knocking into her arm with a teasing shove. "because you got to experience what most people never do, y'know? losing your virginity twice." duncan wasn't sure if he bought into the whole ' emotional connection ' thing when it came to improving sex, but he would wholeheartedly agree that practice did in fact make perfect. more was always better. "i lost my virginity the night of prom," he confessed, already very aware of how cliche it sounded. "and it was. . . just fine." a little laugh burst from duncan at how anticlimactic that sounded, because the act itself had really been just that. "i'd been seeing this girl for most of my senior year and we went to the dance together. did the whole rented tux, limo, dinner thing beforehand, and then we got a room at the hotel that was hosting, of course. went upstairs virgins and came back down twenty minutes later not virgins."

„guess i’m the luckiest girl alive then“, sloane responded with a chuckle before taking another sip from the flask. gosh, it really tasted like shit (read: like gasoline), but at least that had to mean it’d do the job. one eyebrow raised, she listened to duncan's story, incapable of keeping the broad grin that just kept creeping onto her lips the longer he talked. "oh my god", she exclaimed laughing, punctuating every word, "you're such a cliche. i'd have never thought you could be so boring and obvious." the teasing tone to her words made it perfectly clear she was just making fun of him by messing with a little. "for how many of those twenty minutes did you actually do it? five?" a playful nudge of her elbow into his waist followed before holding out the flask to him in a peace offering. "lucky me, that you've actually gotten enough practice in since then that you're actually lasting ten minutes", she added with a cheeky wink. okay, so maybe that peace offering had come a little early considering how she just couldn't help but continue to make jokes about his first time, but then again, duncan should know her well enough from last summer to know how to take her little jokes and witty comments. reaching behind her back, she pulled out a pre-rolled joint and her favorite lighter - it had 'slut' written in typography all over it and was literally the cutest. she lit it quickly before turning back to duncan, a smirk slowly spreading across her soft lips. "maybe we should test out how much we've both evolved from being our own unique kind of a boring cliche", she said with a wiggle of her eyebrows before putting hte joint between her lips.

"god, yes," exhales her favorite, most pious worshipper. the one that would take a bullet for his goddess, multiple bullets, would drag himself over nails, through fire, to secure her safety. he loves her more than he's ever loved anything before. isn't that such a scary and wonderful thing? thick lashes flutter at his undereye before he levels his attention back up to his little sister. "i've never seen a more beautiful thing in my life. not even the stars have somethin' on you, tabby." so now, with that delicate doe settling in against his thigh, isn't he meant to keep her safe? to hold her close and ensure no harm comes to her? renzo is nothing but harm, made of sharp edges like blades and thorns into which the most reckless and debauched of cases would enter with nothing but cuts and scratches to show for it. how can he guarantee that her soft outline would exit any differently? there's many reasons he strays far from home, why his apartment is a far drive from their parents', why he left when he was sixteen despite how big, fat, welling tears adorned tabitha's cute cheeks: their home is safer for her without him in it. no more arguments with his parents. no more throwing things around the kitchen. no more stealing alcohol or sneaking girls in and out. but, it means this, how his palms settle against her skin, being with her is a luxury he's not often afforded. can he fuck it up like this? embarrassment takes hold of his cheeks, nipping them a light shade of pink when she confirms the beginning of his desires had indeed slipped between his lips. scribbled digits arrive atop those that splay against his chest as he gives her a small shake of his head as his feet begin to press plainly into the ground; he knows he can't. and, god, he knows he never should. by the thumb and index finger, lorenzo plucks her hand delicately to deliver a tender kiss onto her knuckles. the ivory flesh of her touch a stark contrast to his ebony ink. "nothin' tabby. nothin' to worry your pretty little head with." heart hovers somewhere between his sternum and his stomach as it tries to drop before fluttering against his ribs. she liked it, she wanted more. but, lorenzo knows what it's like to begin to give yourself up piece by piece. everything's novel, enamoration bleeding from the feeling of being felt itself. "i dunno, t. i think we should—-" 'go slow' dies on the tip of his tongue when that innocent, bundle of light resting against his thigh keens out an exhale of pure pleasure. her pouty lips parted and doe eyes went glossy and lorenzo got a front row seat to bliss passing across her features. his uncomfortable bulge twitches in his jeans while instinctively, he twines his arms around her, bundling her close into his chest while he nearly bites his lip bloody from the effort of not rolling his hips into the air at the sound. "tab?" renzo bites out from between tight teeth, steeling himself against his carnivorous desire. he knows better than to ask, but he just can't help himself. "you okay, baby?"

doe eyes with surprise at the insistence with which he professes her to be beautiful, not having expected such sort of vehemence. and what is a girl possibly supposed to say to such a declaration of love? so she says nothing, hoping that the sheepish, bright beam of a smile that could easily rival the warmth and brightness of the sun will speak for her, will tell him how much his words mean to her even if she can't put it into words of her own right now. rose-petal lips curl into the hint of a pout when he removes her hand from his chest, already missing the reassuring strength of his body underneath her soft palms. tabitha doesn't understand why he'd want to distance himself from her when they're finally allowed to be close, finally have an excuse to do more than cuddle innocently with their hands above the blanket as they've done so many countless times before. "but what if i want to know?", she asks softly, words barely more than a hushed whisper, curiosity sparkling in those dark orbs, as she suddenly feels emboldened to push him a little. and how could she not feel safe and secure enough to be a little bolder than usual with his arms holding her so tight in their comforting and soothing embrace? a closeness and intimacy that soon turns from blessing into a curse when it awakens feelings and sensations inside of her she's hardly known before. tabitha shakes her head softly at his question, breathing in his warm, wooden, spicy scent so familiar like the back of her own mind, as she continues to smother her soft face in his chest, physically incapable of looking at him right now. any sparks of boldness she might have felt mere heartbeats ago have dissolved into thin are when that godforsaken moan pearled from her lips. "it's nothing", she whispers against his chest even though they both know that's this isn't true, "i...." she breaks off, she just can't lie to him. she can't. she's never been able to and the words won't come now either. "it just tickled in a way that felt really good", she finally adds after a few heartbeats of silence, still not looking at him.

owen's sore, tender heart plummets into his stomach and somehow still manages to hammer in his chest, rabbiting against the strong ebony bones in his sternum. he immediately grows queasy, sour arriving in the hollows of his cheeks, palms beginning to break out in a clammy sweat against her thighs. his cheeks are flaming red, chin jutting out as his teeth grind together, shoulders rolling forward in that self-soothing curl of shame, and he can only see the curl of her mocha locks through quivering tunnel vision. he might just cry. or, throw up. or, grab her by the hair at her nape until she’s finally the one with pinpricks in her eyes. “no.” as if he has any say whatsoever. as if she wasn't calling out the depth of his perversion right before her. how readily did he fall to his knees at the sight of her perky tits thinly concealed, and the little flash of her panties before he sniffed them like a true pervert. she wasn’t wrong. and, what he was going to do to them after the inevitable wasn’t wholesome either. “you’re fucking insane, izabel,” and distressingly nonchalant, but the blackmail almost feels terribly like relief. “i’m—-i’m sorry, but no.” but, for what? sorry, for what? for not fucking her earlier? for being the type of man he would make fun of with his wife on anniversaries? those with such a lame sense of virtue that the foundation of their marriage shatters with the curious touch of a pretty thing. she ups her ante, threatening to tell his precious little girl that daddy's corruption includes molestation. not just taking from her clothing for himself, but her body too. owen heaves a twisted sigh against her skin, eyes screwing shut. a last ditch effort is acrid on the tip of his tongue, blinking those mink lashes up at izabel from between her olive thighs. “you know i'm married, izzy. you're a pretty girl, and all [ ... ] ” gorgeous, downright ephemeral, and his cock doesn't even seem to flag even under duress, the spiny threats that if she doesn't get split open by him that she'll go running. he wants to add: 'find someone else to torment', but he doesn't feel particularly enticed fear or otherwise to move from the space he's created on the floor. owen stuffs her sodden panties into the pocket of his work slacks, her slick coating his fingertips as he does so, the intoxicating scent of her arousal so pronounced he swears he can taste it on his tongue. palms fall to the floor to stand from his devoted position, climbing inches at a time before he's towering over her. “it's not about couldn't—-” say less, owen. “it's objectively wrong.”

one eyebrow arches up at the sudden 'no', legs trembling at the possibility that he isn't going to fall for the blackmail and is going to kick her out any second, even if she tries her best not to show it, tries her best to look all nonchalant and unbothered by his rejection. "i don't think you're understanding what's going on, owen", she coos, digging her manicured fingernails into the inside of her palms until white crescent moons bloomed, "because you don't have a choice in this. do you really think angie, my best friend, won't believe me when i tell you what a big old pervert her daddy is? that he just couldn't keep his greedy hands off my young, perky body? do you really think your wife won't believe me when i tell her that you took my panties because it's the closest you could get to eating out my pussy?" izabel pauses as her head tilts back when owen slowly gets back onto his feet, suddenly towering over her petite body with his broad-shouldered height. the realization of how physically imposing he is has that kitten tongue hydrate those rose petal lips. "do you really want to find out?" her heart is racing in her chest as her fingers beg and plead to touch his body, to have him touch her again, but she doesn't want to make the first step lest he'd truly turn around and leave her standing here all by herself. all needy and turned-on with nowhere to direct her desire. "smoking is objectively wrong, drinking underage is objectively wrong, watching porn is kind of objectively wrong - but all of those things are objectively fun and worth burdening your conscience, wouldn't you agree?", she purred, trying her best not to show just everything inside of her his begging and screaming for him to say yes, to yield and give into his desire - because he had to feel this too, right? this couldn't be just her, could it? if it was up for her and her alone, she'd have given into this what felt like forever ago. "just imagine how could it's going to feel when you bury your head between my thighs or sink you cock into my soft folds and tight pussy."

the thin lines of his pink lips curl in on crooked teeth in a perverse snarl while his hand (golden wedding ring glossy with the smear of his precum from the drooling, purpling head) massages that throbbing vein on his heavy cock. she's a right sight, pursed lips trying to target the dripping tip like she's going to suckle on him like a nipple. the desperation is what he'll remember, her slutty eagerness, how willingly she split herself open with that drunken bottle just for her to pout stained lips trying to soothe that fixation wanting his cock down her throat. "ain't that embarrassin', laney? that you're actually tryin', baby?" sees their corrupt future in that diamond that spills across her hot cheek like sweet sundresses that he presses himself between. maybe in the morning he’d feel nauseous, remorseful, but maybe he’d wake up between the pillow of her thighs and swipe his tongue eagerly between her folds until ‘daddy’ becomes synonymous with ‘i’m going to cum’. the pavlovian response is dangerous. her keening tone in public could cause his prick to swell, and he’d be obligated to have her hang off of his cock if she caused the problem, surely. “if you actually tried, this thing between your legs wouldn’t be used would it, swee'heart? it would just be daddy's cunt.” it’s not entirely her fault, anyways. she’s a little encouragable and boys her age are greedy over pretty things like her; they should have just homeschooled her while they had the chance. “i might have to tape that drippy hole closed, darlin'. [ ... ] just so daddy can trust you again.” his strong grip digs into the supple flesh of her breast, pushing fabric aside to pinch at her ruddy nipple before he gives her bouncing tit another slap. at her debauched sight, he sucks in a sharp through his teeth, squeezing her so firmly that her swollen chest squishes in the space between his reddening fingers, pert bud poking into his calloused palm. "you gonna be a good girl and fill the bottle with your squirt , princess ? fuck —-" the flat of his thumb swipes over his drooling head, but the stringy bead of precum breaks over her lips, indulging her desperation when he was firm about restraint. "you're gonna cum, ain't cha, around an imitation of a cock coz you're just that desperate. 'll let anything fuck your little holes. see why would daddy trust you? [ ... ] took the neck of your birthday bottle like it was one of your boyfriend's narrow pricks."

everything about this is embarrassing and humiliating. she's making a complete fool of herself for him, metaphorically stumbling over her own feet just to please him, to make him any less mad at her, to maybe earn back his favor enough that he'll finally touch her where she wants to feel his cock hand so badly. because even if she's currently fucking herself with that wine bottle like a bitch in heat, it doesn't satisfy this guttural, primal craving deeply nestled into her intestines, not really. because as much as she wants to cum, she wants to be fucked by him even more. "it can be daddy's cunt", lainey whines, every syllable dripping with sheer bottomless, never-ending need, "tape it closed with duck tape, put me in a chastity belt, i don't care. you can do whatever you think is necessary for you to be able to trust me again." right now, she might not mind, but tomorrow, once she'd come down both from the high of intoxication as well as his closeness, is a completely different story. a little yelp pearls from those plump lips at his sudden roughness, doing absolutely nothing to pull away, however. she deserves this, deserves whatever pleasure-soaked punishment he wants to grant her for being a bad girl and a slut. if it means he'll turn her breasts all pink and tender, she'll gladly take it. as long as he calls her his good girl again. eager nods answer his question even before he can finish it, eyes gazing longingly at his thick, drooling head, a pout seemingly omnipresent even in the midst of pleasure. she doesn't argue that he started fucking her with this bottle - saying 'no' didn't even cross her mind once -, just nodding along as she continues to thrust the bottle neck in and out of her sobbing pussy, all pink, slick and puffy with the evident proof for her desire. "can i cum, daddy?", she asks and even though she needs to really badly, she knows she won't until he grants her the permission, determined to proof at least once that she can be his good little girl even if he doesn't believe it right now, even if her body wants to be selfish and claim that orgasm that's already building.