Warning: the following vignette may be too intense for some, or may prove a trigger, so stop reading now if depictions of rough sex and strong consensual verbal play between a sadist and masochist offend or upset you. (There’s a point, I promise.)
Copyright (c) 2014 Corey Harper
WARNING: This article deals with an aspect of BDSM that is not to everyone’s tastes. It contains sensitive material that, to the uninitiated, may appear to be violent and cruel. All depictions in this fictitious example would, in the real world, occur between consenting adult partners as part of BDSM play. If you are new to BDSM, or if you have been a victim of actual domestic abuse, this article may be upsetting. Please search your own heart and mind, and make your decision from a place beyond curiosity.
Still with me? Let’s get started.
“You fucking cunt.”
He stood over her, his naked chest rising and falling with his slow, measured breath. A sheen of perspiration glistened on his dark chest hair, deep to the hard slab of his pectorals beneath. The wooden paddle in his hand hung close to his thigh, its varnished surface wet with her sweat. The rich, tangy smell of heated wood filled the air.
The muscles in his forearm corded as he regarded her vividly reddened ass. Laying the paddle on the small accent table next to her prone body, he bent close to her.
“You fucking, worthless cunt,” he snarled in her ear. She flinched, her naked body quivering. “I told you to be still while I beat you.”
“I…” The whisper died on her lips, and she tried again, twisting her head against the collar and leash that kept her lashed to the wall. Face taking on a defiant look, she said, “I did.”
He reached down with a strong hand and grabbed the long raven hair that fell around her shoulders. Her swollen breasts bobbled at the suddenness of his movement, blood-engorged nipples tightening against the weighted clover clamps attached to them.
He yanked her head up, causing her to cry out. The black leather collar tightened around her throat, the leash snapping taut, the chrome D-ring clicking.
“What did you say, cum-slut?” He brought his face an inch from hers. “Repeat that to me.”
Her gaze travelled up his arm, past his massive bicep, to his sculpted shoulders and trapezius. Confronted in this way with his fierce, blue-eyed stare, his strong musk, his overwhelming maleness, her momentary defiance failed her. She tried to respond, but then felt his other hand between her legs.
“Unh,” she grunted, as his calloused hand found her clit. He stroked and circled her erect nub without gentleness or subtlety.
“Say something, whore?” he said, breathing his hot breath against her cheek. He pulled her hair harder.
As she opened her mouth to answer him, he pinched her clit between his thumb and forefinger. A deep, primitive moan rose from deep in her chest. Vaguely, she was aware of him pushing something into her. A pause as his hand left her cunt. Then, a buzzing inside her that began to build. He’d shoved her remote-controlled bullet vibrator into her sopping pussy.
Her head spun as her tummy clenched, and from a distance she heard him say, “Why should I fuck you, worthless cunt?” He grabbed her face in his hand, and squeezed her cheeks. “What makes you worthy?”
She fought against the building orgasm. The vibrations of the bullet made it impossible to think, and she’d spent a good part of the past hour in subspace.
“Uhh…” she tried.
“Uh?” he said, the single word a growl. “Uh?” He yanked her hair harder, pulling her head up to its limits.
She felt him moving around behind her, holding her long hair like reins. He had removed his shirt and shoes hours ago, but still wore the faded denims that hung off his narrow hips. She wanted to see how his abdominal muscles looked right now, all tight and carved, but he wouldn’t release her head so she could look.
“All you are good for is a place for me to dump my cum, whore,” he said, kneeling behind her. Even from that distance, she felt the steam of his breath on her naked spine. It made the fine hairs on the back of her neck erect. And it was like his spicy hot breath was laced with his male hormones that jetted straight to her cunt.
She shivered, his words slicing through her. The bullet vibed harder, faster. Through her endorphin-soaked haze, she heard the zip of his jeans. Her shivers became shakes.
Something warm and wet drizzled over her ass. It took her a moment to realize it was the bottle of lube that had been sitting in the mug in the warmer.
His fingers smeared the lube around her ass crack, and then against her tight rosette.
“Tell me why I should fill you, twat,” he said. “Give me a reason.”
His fingers pressed against her asshole. Against, then his index finger pushed inside her. She arched her back and groaned.
“Slut,” he said. His voice had gotten deeper, more husky. “Fucking cum-hole.”
She grunted a breath, then it caught when she felt the swollen head of his cock replace his finger against her asshole. Even over her own throbbing, she could feel his.
He pushed his plum-sized cockhead against her anus. “Your fucking slut-hole is resisting,” he said. “Maybe I should just stop, worthless whore.”
No! She started to panic, frightened he would stop what he was about to do. Struggling mightily against the brain-fog, the madly vibrating bullet that threatened to shake her cunt apart, she moaned, “No!”
“What did you say, cum-bucket?”
She hated it when he did this to her. She loved it when he did this to her.
“Said… No. Please. No, my Master.” There, she got it out–the words he longed to hear.
With a bellow, he thrust into her ass, taking her like the fuck-slut she knew she was. At the same time, she felt the bullet ramp up to full power, and her orgasm slammed through her. She screamed at the burn, the heat, from his cock in her ass, from the vibe, from the sheer joy of knowing she was worthless, his to serve, to be used as he saw fit.
As he came in her ass, filling her with his seed, she felt the ecstasy she always felt with him when they played like this. She knew that he called her “worthless”, “cunt”, “whore”, and whatever else, because she needed to hear that. Needed to hear the words that, for her, were more powerful than the most passionately spoken “I love you.”
Because their love was stronger than the “good” words–it also transcended the “bad” ones. Having that trust in each other, knowing she could take whatever he said, and him knowing it as well, made their bond stronger than any still hampered by artificial limits.
And she knew, once he finished his extraordinarily long come inside her, he would unleash her, wrap her in a blanket, and hold her on his lap for at least an hour before he cleaned her up and put her in bed.
Because she knew he loved her, and would always give her everything she needed. Everything she craved.
If the preceding vignette made you scratch your head and go “What the fuck was that?”–or worse–then verbal abuse in BDSM is probably not for you. But if you felt any tingle at all, it might be. I also purposely took it easy on the language; as an experienced friend pointed out, it can be a lot stronger, and I didn’t want anyone to get upset from this introductory treatise on “abuse”.
I thought long and hard about how to write such a potentially sensitive article. I wrote this simple vignette this way–with other kinks included–because I realized the “abuse” would seldom be disconnected from other aspects of play and the relationship. Can there be different relationship formats other than the one above, where this kind of talk occurs? Absolutely; infinite variety. This is just one comparatively mild example. Different subs who have this as a kink require different levels of “abuse”. I personally knew a sub who needed it much, much coarser than this.
As I said, I intentionally wrote this towards the mild side of this kind of BDSM verbal play. Trust me, it can get a lot stronger, but this is an introduction, not an advanced course.