[m4tf] Breaking me in

I struggle.

Even though I know I can’t escape, I still fight the restraints, pulling against the cuffs binding my wrists behind my back, twisting my ankles in the spreader bar holding my legs apart. I jerk my head, trying to shake off the gag stretching my lips wide, but it only makes the thick rubber bit press deeper into my mouth. I drool past it, my breath coming in shuddering pants as I try to regain some kind of control.

I don’t have any.

You hum in amusement, watching me from your seat like this is nothing more than a game you’ve already won.

“Look at you,” you murmur, trailing your fingers down my chest, teasing over my oversensitive skin. “Still trying so hard to fight.”

Your touch is slow, lazy, mocking. I flinch away, my muscles already trembling, overstimulated, aching. You’ve already made me come too many times. I don’t even know the number anymore.

And yet I’m still hard. Still dripping. Still so damn sensitive I can barely breathe.

You smile like you know exactly what I’m thinking. Of course you do.

“I wonder how long you’ll last before you start crying,” you muse, as if it’s an inevitable conclusion.

I try to shake my head, whimpering against the gag, trying to beg for something, anything. You just smirk.

“Oh? Do you want me to stop?”

I nod frantically. Please. Please, I can’t take any more.

But you don’t stop. Instead, you reach down, fingers sliding over my inner thigh, collecting the mess I’ve made.

I wince, gasping through my nose, shaking my head harder. I already know what’s coming.

“Such a messy little thing,” you tease, lifting your fingers to my lips. “Since you’re so eager to spill everywhere, you can clean it up.”

I whimper. Shake my head. Try to turn away. But your other hand grips my hair, yanking my head back, forcing me still.

“Oh, don’t be shy now,” you coo. “Open up.”

You remove the gag, but before I can protest, your fingers press into my mouth, rubbing the evidence of my own humiliation against my tongue.

“That’s it. Swallow.”

I gag, my throat working against the intrusion, my face burning with shame. But I do it.

I swallow every last drop.

You smile, tilting my chin up, thumb tracing over my lips.

“Good pet.”

But I know you aren’t done.

You shift in your seat, spreading your legs, your cock already heavy, leaking, pressed against my mouth.

“You want me to stop?” you ask, your voice filled with mock concern. “Then earn it.”

I hesitate, my body still shaking from overstimulation, my jaw aching, my dignity barely holding on.

You grab my hair, dragging me forward, pressing your tip against my lips, smearing precum over them.

“Go on, pet. Make yourself useful.”

And as I open my mouth, my tongue stretching, my lips wrapping around you, my throat convulsing as you push deeper, I know the truth.

You aren’t stopping until I’m completely broken in.