I’m 25 and a lesbian. I’ve always been sorta sexual but also shy enough to blush if someone looked at me wrong. I never thought I was the kind of girl who’d jump headfirst into a mess of naked bodies, pain, and lust. I have to tell someone about this experience because I’m dying to, and I can’t tell anyone I actually know in real life, so here goes.
So I went to an erotic art gallery a few days ago because, honestly, I wanted to look at some dirty paintings and maybe get off later. But what I got was something I never saw coming.
There was this woman standing next to me, staring hard at a painting of two women tied up, broken, and absolutely ruined. Their faces were wet, hair plastered to skin, their bodies covered in bruises and red marks. Their eyes were half-lidded like they didn’t even know where they were anymore, just floating in this mix of pain and pleasure that made my pussy throb through my jeans.
I was staring too, hypnotized by how utterly fucked and perfect they looked. I felt like I could crawl into the painting and lose myself.
Then she said, out of nowhere, “You like that?”
I jumped a little. I wasn’t expecting to talk to anyone. I just nodded, too shy to say anything.
She leaned in closer, her voice low, “What is it you like about it?”
I swallowed hard, suddenly embarrassed.
“I don’t know… the way they don’t even fight it anymore. Like they don’t care who owns them. Like they’re just… gone.”
She smiled like I’d said exactly the right thing. “Would you want to be that? Not just for one woman, but for ten? To be their plaything, their broken toy, used and thrown around?”
My body answered before my brain could catch up. “Yes”, and I surprised even myself with how fast it came out. I work in a high powered job, and I guess the thought of just losing control for an evening was quite inviting.
Fast forward to a few nights later to her apartment and 10 women. 10 pairs of eyes looking at me, I got nervous and excited.
They made me sit annd go over limits and boundaries. The woman I spoke to, let’s call her Ms X, said everything that they planned to do and what I was okay with. My safe word was Velvet. My limit was no anal, and I said I don’t wanna be called stupid. All the terms were agreed and then one of them said, “If you’re ours tonight, you start by kissing us. Each kiss is a promise from you that you will use your safe word if things get too much for you, and a promise from each of us that we will stop when you use it, no questions asked.” She said if I feel like backing out at any point, I just had to use the word and everything will stop.
Each kiss was slow and wet and deep, and by the last one I could feel my thighs soaked through.
And then they told me to strip. I stood there naked while they circled me like wolves, talking about me like I was furniture. Something along the lines of:
“It has nice tits”
“It’s already wet. Look at that”
“It’s going to look so pretty when we fuck it”
Then came the first touch and hands went everywhere. My tits were pinched until my nipples were sore. Someone squatted down, spread my pussy lips open with both hands and said, “It’s leaking”, like I was just a thing that needed mopping up. Two fingers dragged through my wet labia, and then those fingers were shoved straight into my mouth with a command, “clean it up, slut” And I obeyed.
Then they bent me over a table. The first smack of a leather strap on my ass made me scream.
“Count” someone said.
“One!”
The next one came harder and they got harder with each one. They didn’t give me time to breathe between them. Leather strap, then a wooden paddle, then a cane. The cane was the worst, fucking hell… each stripe felt like fire.
I was wriggling and kicking, but someone had a fist in my hair, pinning me down. Tears started streaming down my face as I lost count and was just lost in the pain and pleasure and I swear my pussy was dripping like a leaky faucet. I started sobbing and then someone crouched next to my head, stroked my wet hair and said in a very serious tone, “Sweetheart do you want to stop? Say your word and we’ll call it a night. Do you wanna say Velvet?” I was like FUCK NO!! Do your worst!! She asked me if I was sure and I nodded my head violently and just said I’ll use my word if I need to, don’t worry, just don’t fucking stop.
And she smiled and continued to destroy my ass, annd another woman came around and shoved two fingers in my mouth. “Suck it like the whore you are”, she ordered. I was sobbing, moaning, gagging on her fingers, drool running down my chin while the cane kept painting stripes across my thighs.
And they didn’t just stop there. They flipped me over. My hands were cuffed behind my back. Slaps across my face… soft at first, then so hard my ears rang. I was surprised at how much I loved this. My cheeks were flushing and I was relentlessly slapped by all of them, all the while with them calling me a slut, a whore, a toy. And then came the leather strap on my pussy… two women held my legs apart as another destroyed my pussy being the strap. With each strap, I screamed out but got wetter and wetter. I was fucking enjoying this so much I couldn’t believe myself.
“You like being hit, slut?” I nodded, tears and spit everywhere.
“Say it. Good sluts speak when their mistress asks them to.”
“I like it” I sobbed.
They dragged me down to my knees, and that’s when the real use started.
I became a mouth. That’s it, just a wet mouth for them.
One sat on my face, grinding her clit against my tongue, holding me there. I was ordered to make her come and when she did, they didn’t even give me a second to breathe. Another hand grabbed my hair and dragged me to the next woman. My tongue barely left one clit before it was shoved onto the next. My face was covered in their squirt. Between each clit, I was slapped hard.
It was a blur… wetness, sweat, hair in my mouth, my own drool dripping down my chest. I had no idea who I was licking anymore.
Hands grabbed my head from every direction. “Faster”, they said. “Don’t stop until I tell you, you fucking whore”
Someone spat straight into my mouth between bodies. “Swallow it” she said. And I did.
They passed me around like I was nothing. The whole time they were talking to me. One of them said something that made me even wetter, something like,
“You’re just a bunch of holes for us with a tongue, that’s all. Our personal sex toy, that’s what you’re good for. You know that, right?” And when I didn’t reply, she slapped my tits hard like 10 times rapidly, and repeated the question. I screamed Yes, miss!
Ms X took my face in her hands, and again asked me if I was okay and needed a break or wanted to stop. Bless her. I screamed No again, and asked her to continue. I was then laid down on the carpet and a few fingers slid into me and another hand started rubbing my clit. More hands on my tits, slapping them and pinching my nipples, another hand slapping my face, couple of hands caning my thighs. all at once. The finger fucking was hard AF. I was sobbing and screaming in pain and pleasure. And I came… loud, my thighs shaking, pussy clenching on nothing, and all I could do was whimper into someone’s clit that was suddenly shoved into my mouth.
They didn’t even pause, they just dragged me back up by my hair, slapped me across the face, and shoved me back between someone’s thighs.
I lost count of everything. How many came on my face. How many fingers I sucked. How many times I came myself, just from being used.
By the end I wasn’t a person. I was shaking, covered in spit and sweat and cum, my face a mess, my ass and thighs welted and bruised, my clit so raw I could barely stand.
And I wanted more. But it all stopped there. Ms X and the others got down with me, cuddling me in their arms, hugging me tight and whispering sweet stuff in my ears. She fed me a glass of water, stroked my hair and gave me loads of soft kisses, and applied aloe on my ass. Ms X told me that’s all for the evening, no more. They took me to the couch, gave me a few sports drinks, a snack and we all just watched Netflix, with me in Ms X’s arms and her telling me, “We can do this again if you want, but after you’ve properly rested and recovered, so not for another month at least. And sweetheart, always remember you can use your word at any point.”
I realized something. I don’t just like being used by women. I was born for it. I want to be nothing but a wet, willing toy for women who know exactly what to do with me.
If she texts me again, I won’t even knock. I’ll just put a collar around my neck, crawl, open my mouth and hand her the leash.
