Ravage Me: A Quick and Dirty Spanking and BDSM Fantasy
After ten years of marriage, Lina’s husband, Nate, finally took her discipline in hand and gave her the spanking she’d been asking for and richly deserved. Now, as his submissive, she’s tasked to share her every fantasy with her Master. Quick and Dirty Fantasies are one woman’s secret desires and recollections along the journey to submission.
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To: Boss
From: pet
Subject: I am your slut
Sir,
I must admit I get a dirty, little thrill every time you call me your slut. I’ve never thought very much about what it means before now. Slut is one of those labels we’re trained as girls to avoid at all costs. Yet, when you say it, I want nothing more than to be your slut. I fantasize about what filthy things you might do to me, how you’ll use me for your pleasure.
While you were inside me, I started to think how deliciously slutty it would feel if you were to possess my mouth, too. The more I imagined you sliding over my tongue and pushing into the back of my throat, the hotter I became. But, I realize that two holes are not enough. If I am your slut, all my holes belong to you. As I sit down to write today, I can’t get the sensation of you taking all three of my holes at once, and completely owning me, out of my mind. I picture how you could make that actually happen, create a scenario where filling me with you would be possible.
We start at home, where you interrogate me in my usual spot in the corner. Of course, it takes some urging with the paddle and strap to get the truth out of me, but eventually you’re satisfied with my answers and you dress me in sexy, new rubber and latex lingerie, which comes with a few special insertable accessories. You take your slut out to the pool hall for the dirtiest game of pinball that back room has ever seen. Afterward, we return home so you can replace the toys with your flesh, in each and every hole this slut has to offer.
As always, your pet hopes you enjoy sharing her fantasy.
With love and dirty thoughts,
Your pet,
me
“Ravage Me” is part of Mich Masoch’s Quick and Dirty Collection, an ongoing series of spanking and BDSM fantasies and short stories written for maximum erotic and emotional impact in a compact, easy-to-read length.
Please note: This story contains strong language, intense sexual situations, sex in public places, group sex, triple penetration, and depictions of BDSM practices, including corporal punishment, dominance and submission, power exchange, spanking, interrogation, strap-in chastity devices, and light bondage. It is intended for adult audiences only.
excerpt:
Dinner is long cleared, but we’re still lounging, savoring a rare early evening to ourselves. I’m musing on which project to take up on the night shift when your voice breaks into my reverie.
“I want you to stand up and go to the corner.” You look at me expectantly, and I cut my breath shallow. By now, I’ve learned not to hesitate, and waste no time obeying you. “Take off your clothes.” I start to strip, staring down at each bit of cover as it drops to the floor. “Look at me.” Your gaze is unwavering, commanding, causes my hands to shake as I unhook my bra.
Sitting back into the corner of the sofa, legs crossed casually, you present the polar opposite image of me, awkwardly standing here, exposed for review. So-called body language experts say standing is the more powerful position, but they’ve never experienced anything like this. They’ve never been stripped and examined, subjected to the most intimate scrutiny, suffered the consequences when found lacking.
“Are you my slut?” you ask.
“Yes, of course, Sir.” This is a no-brainer.
“Really? What does that mean?”
“I’m yours to use any way you like.”
“So, I own this body?” You’ve used the neutral ‘this’ instead of the possessive ‘your’ and I suspect where this line of thought is leading. My heart beats faster.
“This slut is all yours,” I answer.
“Since you’re mine, I’ll decide when and if you’re allowed to come when I fuck you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“If you get greedy, you’ll be punished severely. Those holes belong to me, don’t they, slut?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Tell me what’s mine.”
“Your slut’s holes, Sir.”
“Now you’re just parroting me. I want a real answer. Go to the bedroom and bring me the long leather paddle.”
The yards between the corner and the back of the apartment feel as if the laws of physics have suspended themselves, conspiring with my dread to make the simple task an ordeal. Reaching the toy rack, I carefully lift the paddle from its hook, third from the right. Only two more severe implements remain after this one. Hands quaking, I place it into your outstretched hand, and wait for your instructions.
“When you bring a discipline toy to me, what you do think I intend to do with it?” you ask, your voice impatient
“Punish me.”
“Then, why is it, slut, that you’re standing there like you’re waiting for a formal invitation? Yours is an exceptional brain, I expect you to use it.”
“I’m sorry, Sir,” I reply, quickly bending across your legs to lean with my hands on the arm of the sofa, legs slightly spread and back arched to present my ass for your punishment.
“Don’t worry, I’ll see to it you are,” you say, bringing the leather down on the bottom of my ass cheeks with sudden crack. Your free hand gathers my hair to lock my head in place, which has the strange effect of making me freeze entirely as several more blows stripe my flesh. A tiny whimper strangles itself at the base of my throat. “I expect you to be more than just sorry. That should be a granted. From now on, when I punish your disobedience, I expect you to be grateful for my discipline and learn from it. Do you understand?” A shower of blows rain down on my ass and it’s all I can do to keep control of my body, much less respond. But, ignoring a direct question will guarantee worse, so I blurt out the first thing that pops in my mind.
“Yes, thank you for correcting me, Sir.”
“Good pet,” you say with a light pat on my ass, followed with a barrage of sharp, rapid swats over my ass and thighs. “Go back to the corner. That’s your warning.”
Returning to stand in the corner, tension crackles through my nerves. I count off time to the throbbing burn of my spanked ass. You sit, relaxed in your total authority, tapping the paddle suggestively on your palm and looking me up and down with a hint of a smile. You seem confident you’ll be employing the paddle again soon, and I can’t blame you. Admitting embarrassing truths is not my strong suit.
