Raw Cravings: A Futa’s Masochistic Descent
Jump to: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
Chapter 1: The Hidden Torment 🔥
I’d been wrestling with this curse for fifteen months now. Riley Voss, twenty-five, track runner turned barista, cursed with a fourteen-inch monster between my legs that screamed “top” while every fiber of my being begged to kneel. My pussy ached for it, slick and needy, but this throbbing shaft? It mocked me. As a dyke through and through, I’d always craved the whip’s kiss on my clit, the boot on my throat. Now? This thing ruined the vibe.
Alone in my cramped studio apartment, the air thick with stale coffee and sweat, I stared at the mirror. Curvy hips from squats, DDs spilling over my sports bra, fiery red waves cascading past my shoulders. But lower—god, that bulge. I hated it. Hated how it twitched at my frustration.
Tonight, punishment time. The raw frustration boiled over as I gripped my nuts, heavy and low-hanging like overripe fruit. A sharp slap echoed off the tiles. Pain bloomed, hot and electric. My nipples peaked hard against the lace. Another slap, harder. The sting rolled through me, my cunt clenching, dripping onto the bathmat. Raw agony, that’s what I needed. To make this dick pay for stealing my submission.
I sank to my knees on the cold porcelain. Breath ragged, heart pounding like a drum in my chest. The scent of bleach lingered from my obsessive cleaning ritual—this bathroom was my temple of self-inflicted hell. I tugged at my foreskin, yanking roughly until tears pricked my eyes. Not enough. Never enough without someone to force my hand.
Weights next. I’d scavenged these from the gym, clipping them to a ring around my sack. Gravity pulled mercilessly, stretching skin taut. I rocked forward, feeling the tug deep in my gut. Whimpers escaped, tasting salt on my lips. My cock bobbed untouched, leaking pre-cum in pathetic strings. One more slap to the underside—thwack—and stars burst behind my eyelids. The orgasm hit raw and violent, cum splattering the sink without a single stroke. Pussy gushing, balls throbbing in symphony.
Exhausted, trembling, I peeled off the weights. Bruises bloomed purple. Good. A reminder. But the high faded too quick. I needed real control. Someone to crush me, not this half-assed solo game. Showered clean, I slipped into my armor: micro-shorts that barely hid my caged beast, crop top flashing pierced navel and underboob. Time to hunt.
Chapter 2: Streets of Tease
The boardwalk pulsed with summer heat, salt air whipping my hair. Tourists milled about, laughing over fried dough and ocean roar. I felt eyes on me—my ass swayed exaggerated, shorts riding up to flash cage glimpses. The flat chastity device was my dirty secret, squishing my monster flat as a clit. Humiliating. Perfect. Two months locked, cum backed up like a dam ready to burst.
A gust lifted my hem. Balls peeked, swollen and veined. A group of futas nearby wolf-whistled. “Look at that sissy sack!” one jeered. Heat flooded my cheeks, but my pussy wept in response. Raw exhibitionism, the shame twisting into lust. I “accidentally” bent to tie my sneaker, spreading wide. Phones clicked. Mortifying. Delicious.
Further down, I hopped the subway stairs. Car smelled of piss and cheap perfume, bodies packed tight. I grabbed a pole, thighs pressing my trapped nuts. Every jolt crushed them against denim. Leaks started—wet spot forming. A tall figure boarded at the next stop. Blonde buzzcut, ripped tank hugging muscle, track pants slung low over a massive outline. Hazel eyes locked on mine. Fuck.
She sauntered over, spreading legs wide opposite me. Her happy trail dusted pubes above the waistband. Split tongue flicked out, teasing air. My breath hitched. She grinned, feral. “Like what you see, pet?” Voice gravelly, commanding. I uncrossed legs, flashing my predicament. Precum glistened on inner thighs.
No words needed. Her hand shot out, cupping my mound through fabric. Fingers probed my slick folds. “Wet little slut.” Thumb circled my clit hood roughly, peeling it back. I bit my lip to stifle moans, the train’s rumble masking my gasps. Taste of blood, coppery. She squeezed my balls next—firm, knowing. Raw pressure sent sparks up my spine. Stars again.
Cum dribbled from the cage slits, soaking us both. Climax ripped through, silent but shattering. She licked her split tongue up my neck, two tips dancing on skin. “Mine now.” Train halted. She yanked my wrist. “Follow.”
Chapter 3: Locked and Loaded 💋
Her grip on my balls was iron as she dragged me off the subway, up cracked sidewalks to a neon-lit motel. “Lena’s Playpen,” the sign buzzed. Dive central, hourly rates blinking. She scanned her phone at room 69. Door hissed open to dim red lights, king bed with stained sheets, mirrors everywhere. Chains dangled from bedposts. Air reeked of lube and leather.
“In, bitch.” Slap to my ass stung like fire. I crawled onto the mattress, sheets cool silk against knees. Lena locked the door, stripping slow. Gods, her body—tall, veined arms, E-cups perky with inverted nips begging a twist. Cock? Fifteen inches soft, thickening as she stroked. Larger than mine. Relief washed me.
She loomed, eyes devouring. “Cage stays? Or show me the goods?” I trembled. “Locked at home, key forgotten.” Lie. Truth? Terrified she’d bolt at my size.
Lena chuckled dark, pulling keyring from pocket. Universal set. Panic surged. “Wait—” Too late. Click. My monster sprang free, veiny fourteen incher slapping my belly. Mortified silence.
“Holy fuck, hung subby.” She licked lips. “Raw perfection. Big pain-sluts like you? My favorite toy.” Shame twisted to arousal. No rejection. Hunger in her gaze.
We talked limits—yellow for slow, red stop. No scat, no permadamage. Her eyes gleamed at my CBT cravings. “Toilet tricks? Weights? Let’s escalate, pet.” Kiss crashed down, biting my pierced tongue. Hands roamed, pinching nipples till milk beaded. Her scent—musk and mint—overwhelmed.
Naked now, she shoved me back. Cock kissed my tip. Bite—sharp on frenulum. I yelped, pre spurting. “Good girl.” Another tug with teeth, stretching skin. Pain sang sweet. Balls engulfed next, her mouth vacuuming both. Chewing started, molars grinding. Vision blurred, raw ecstasy building. Cum erupted, ropes painting her hair. She didn’t stop, crushing every drop till I dry-heaved in bliss.
Chapter 4: Crushed and Claimed
Dazed, body quaking, I barely registered her mounting. Pussy stretched around her girth—no mercy warmup. She jackhammered, hips slamming my sack flat with each thrust. Bruised nuts pancaked, pain amplifying every plunge. Hands clamped my throat, choking leverage. Air starved, world tunneled to her hazel stare. Belly swelled with her load, hot jets painting womb.
She pulled out, cum burbling free. Flipped, squatted reverse over my still-hard shaft. “Ride time, but I’m driving.” Claws dug into my balls, vise-grip as she impaled her cunt on me. Back and forth whipped, her ass cheeks clapping mine. Weight bore down, flattening sack again. “Feel that raw crush, slut?”
I nodded, babbling. “Yes, Mommy Lena—hurt me more!” Split tongue lashed my nips, two forks twisting metal bars. New toy from her bag: sounding rod, thick urethral invader. She lubed, threaded slow. Sting burned divine as it sank deep. “Blocked. No easy relief.”
Hours blurred. She dragged me to the bathroom—filth kink absent, but porcelain called. Seat up, she forced my nuts on the rim. “Slam it, pet.” Hesitant, I dropped the lid. Crush. White-hot explosion. Cock spasmed around rod, pussy squirted arcs. Intact, resilient. She laughed, resetting for longer grinds, my weight self-inflicted torture.
Back to bed, weights reapplied—heavier now. She punched rhythmically, fist meeting tender flesh. Thud-thud-thud. “Sing for me.” Moans devolved to screams, raw throat hoarse. Climax after climax, denied full release by the rod. Her cock re-entered my ass this time, pounding prostate while nuts danced under punches.
Sweat-slick, we tangled. Her whispers: “Big dick don’t mean shit. You’re my hole, my painpig.” Emotional crack—validation after loneliness. Tears mixed with cum, bonding us raw.
Chapter 5: Public Shame Spiral
Dawn crept through blinds. Body wrecked—welts, bites, sack purpled swollen. Lena cuddled post-fuck, fingers tracing bruises tenderly. “Beautiful wreck.” Aftercare: ice on nuts, water sips, her feeding me bites of room-service eggs. Vulnerability hit. “Never had someone embrace this… the size shame.”
“Raw hunger like yours? Rare gem.” Plans hatched: public play. Cage relocked, lighter now with key hers. We dressed—me in skirt so short balls dangled free. She led via ball-leash under fabric, back to boardwalk.
Morning crowd thicker. Her hand “slipped,” squeezing visibly. Gasps around us. “Freak!” someone muttered. Shame burned, arousal peaked. In an alley, she hiked my skirt, sounding rod visible. “Piss denied, cum leaks only.” Thighs clenched experimentally—squish, dribble. She snapped rubber bands on my frenulum, toothy snaps echoing. Pain zipped, micro-orgasms teasing.
Back on streets, wind flashed cage. A domme futa approached, eyeing Lena’s bulge. “Sharing?” Lena growled, “Mine.” Possessive. We fucked against a dumpster quick—her in my pussy, fist in ass. Cum overflowed, street-stink mixing with our musk. Climax raw, public edge sharpening it.
Evening sex club detour, new scene. Pulsing bass, leather scent. Lena chained me stage-side, inviting volunteers for ball-slaps. Strangers obliged, crowds cheering my howls. Her in throne, cock sucked by subs while directing. Peak humiliation—my monster caged ignored, pussy fisted by her later amid cheers.
Chapter 6: Eternal Edge
Nights bled into ritual. Home now shared—Lena moved gear in, transforming my studio to dungeon. Daily CBT escalations: electro on sack, vacuum pumps stretching, even ice baths post-hot wax drips. The raw intimacy deepened. Fights over limits, makeup fucks brutal yet loving.
One night, role tease: I “topped” her, but harnessed, balls under her boot. “Prove you’re not just cock.” I thrust desperate, her heel grinding. Failed dominance crushed ego perfectly.
Months in, mirror check: still huge, but owned. No shame, just fuel. Lena’s split tongue marked “Pain Slut” tattoo beside my pubes. Final scene—rooftop under stars, city hum below. She crushed nuts slow with thighs, cock buried deep. “Forever raw, pet?”
“Yes, raw and ruined.” Climax synced, her seed mine, ours blending in endless cycle. No end to the crave. Just us, broken open beautiful.
