18+ MDNI

I sink to my knees before you without being told. The hardwood is cool against my skin, but I don’t feel it. The only thing I feel is your presence looming above me, the weight of your gaze pinning me in place. My throat is already tight with anticipation.

You don’t speak. You don’t have to. You grab a fistful of my hair and yank my head back, tilting my face up. I open my mouth without thinking, tongue out, waiting. That’s my place.

You feed your cock past my lips slow, letting me taste the salt and heat of you. I moan around the intrusion, letting my jaw go slack, letting you set the rhythm. Use my mouth however you want. Gag me, make me drool, hold my head down. I’ll take it all. Your cock owns my throat.

I feel the spit slick down my chin, feel the burn in my lungs when you hold me there, deep, until my eyes water. But I don’t pull away. I take it. I want you to see how willingly I surrender.

When you finally let me breathe, I’m gasping, chest heaving, but I stay on my knees. I don’t move until you do.

Later, you have me bent over the edge of the bed. My fingers grip the sheets as your hand comes down hard on my ass, stealing my breath, spank me until my ass is red.

I count every slap out loud, even though it’s hard, even though I’m crying, even though it takes me a minute, you are patient, and that’s how you know I am yours. Each sting burns ownership into my skin.

Marks that tell me who I belong to the next day, turning my head to see in the full length mirror. Feeling the whole thing again in an instant. The memories of dominance, of your strength to keep going, knowing I need it.

You push into me from behind, rough and deep, and I moan into the mattress. Degrade me while you fuck me.

Call me your little pain slut, your fuck toy, your cocksleeve. Spit in my mouth and watch me swallow with a smile of satisfaction on my lips as I do.

And you give me exactly what I want, each word a brand, each thrust a claim. I’m soaked, trembling, hanging on the edge of release, but I won’t come until you say so. You pull out right before I break, leaving me empty and aching.

You sit in the armchair across the room, legs spread, cock glistening with me. I crawl to you, leaving wet kisses on the floorboards until I reach your feet. I don’t ask. I just look up, waiting.

Make me beg. And I do. I beg until my voice cracks, until every plea tastes like worship.

And when you finally drag me up onto your lap, when you let me ride you, after you ruin me slow and deep, I have forgotten my name and only know yours. Sir.

After you come inside me, breeding my pussy deep, you hold me there, still buried, fingers carding through my messy hair. Let me clean you up after. Every drop of your cum on my skin.

I’ll lick it off my own fingers, off your thighs. I want to taste what you gave me. I do it reverently, kneeling between your legs again, lapping at your skin like a prayer.

I’m yours, completely, helplessly, forever.

dubcon, noncon, CNC, 18+ MDNI

The rough brick scraped against my back as he shoved me deeper into the shadows. My heels slipped on wet concrete, and I tasted copper—my own blood from where my lip split when I tried to bite him.

“No…get off me…” My fists pounded against his chest, but he was solid. Wrong. Solid like stone wrapped in heat, something other in the way his muscles shifted under my palms.

“Shh.” His voice was a low rumble that vibrated through my ribs. “Keep fighting, little rabbit. I love how you struggle.”

I did.

I had to.

My nails raked across his throat, and he hissed, but instead of backing off, he pressed closer, pinning me harder against the wall. The cold seeped through my dress, but his body burned.

“That’s it,” he growled, and his hand found my throat. Not squeezing. Resting. A promise. “Scratch me. Mark me. I’ll wear your scratches like a trophy while I’m buried inside you.”

“No…” The word came out breathless, pathetic.

“Yes.” His other hand slid down my hip, past the torn hem of my dress, and I felt his fingers hook into the waistband of my panties. “You don’t mean no. Your body already told me.”

Traitor.

Between my thighs, I was wet. Embarrassingly, shamefully wet. I could feel the slickness against my skin, and when he tore my panties down to my ankles, the cool air hit my cunt and I ached.

“I can smell you,” he said, and his nose brushed my ear. “Sweet and desperate. Your pussy is begging for me, even if your mouth can’t.”

I shoved at his shoulders. “Fuck you.”

He laughed, dark and rich. “Soon, baby. Soon.”

His hand left my throat, only to wrap around my jaw, forcing my head back. The sky above was a narrow strip of bruised purple between buildings. No stars. No help.

He shifted, and I felt the thick press of him through his jeans. God. My stomach flipped with fear and with something darker, hunger, need.

“Please...” I didn’t know what I was begging for. Stop? Don’t stop?

“Please what?” He ground against me, and I gasped. “Please take you? Please fuck you raw? Please fill that tight little cunt until you can’t walk straight?”

Yes.

No.

I bit my tongue.

His hand left my jaw, and I heard his belt unbuckle, the rasp of his zipper. My body went rigid, but my hips tilted forward, knowing what I wanted despite my fears.

“Look at you.” He wrapped my legs around his waist, and I felt the head of his cock nudge against me. “ Soaking my jeans before I even get inside you. Such a naughty girl.”

“Don’t...” I tried to close my thighs, but he was between them, and he was pushing.

The first inch made me cry out.

He was thick. Stretching, burning, splitting me open. I clawed at his shoulders, but he didn’t stop. He kept pressing, inch by inch, until I was full of him, stuffed, filled to the point of pain and pleasure tangled.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, and the sound was animalistic. “Your cunt is choking me. Squeezing me so tight. Is this what you wanted? To be taken by a monster in a dirty alley?”

I couldn’t answer. My mind was static, my body a live wire.

He started to move.

Slow at first. Long, deep strokes that dragged against every sensitive spot inside me. My nails dug into his shoulders, but I wasn’t pushing him away anymore. I was holding on.

“That’s it.” His hand found my throat again, and this time he squeezed just enough to make my vision spot. “Feel me? Feel how deep I am? I’m going to ruin you until you forget your name. Until the only word you remember is mine.”

“No” It came out a choked whisper.

“Yes.” He thrust harder, faster, slamming me against the wall with each pump of his hips. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

I shook my head, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes.

He clicked his tongue. “Stubborn. I like that.” His hand left my throat and clamped over my mouth just as a broken moan tried to escape. “Shh. Don’t want anyone to hear, do you? Or do you?”

His pace quickened, brutal and relentless. I could feel my orgasm building, coiling low in my belly, and I hated it. Hated how good he felt. How right.

“Your pussy wants my cock,” he growled against my ear. “You’re close, aren’t you? Going to come on for this while I take you against a wall?”

I screamed into his palm.

Yes.

Yes, yes, yes.

He felt the way I started to grip him tighter. He groaned, and his cock swelled inside me, thickening, pulsing.

“I’m close, baby.” His voice was ragged, feral. “You know what’s coming. I’m going to fill you. Flood your womb with my seed. Breed this tight little cunt until you’re dripping with me for days.”

I tried to push at his chest, but my arms were useless, I tried to form words, a plea, but my throat was locked.

“Don’t worry.” He thrust deeper, impossibly deeper. “I know you want it. Your eyes are begging me to stop, but your body is begging me to never stop. And I always listen to your body.”

He sank his teeth into my neck, and at the same moment, he drove into me one last time, grinding his hips against mine as he came.

I felt it.

Hot. Thick. Rope after rope flooding me, filling me, marking me from the inside. His growl vibrated through my bones, and my own climax shattered through me, clenching around his pulsing cock, taking everything he gave.

We stayed like that for a long moment, him buried to the hilt, both of us trembling, breathing ragged and mingled.

Then he pulled out and stepped back. I slid down the wall, my legs useless, my dress bunched around my waist, my panties a wet rag around my ankles. I was shaking. Slick and full and wrecked.

“Get on your knees.”

I looked up at him. He was huge in the dim light, his cock glistening with our combined mess. His eyes were dark, satisfied, hungry.

I shook my head.

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me down. I hit the concrete, my knees scraping, and he positioned himself in front of my face.

“Look up at me, princess.”

I did.

He was smiling. A predator’s smile.

“Clean my cock. You’ve earned it.”

My mouth opened. I don’t know if it was surrender or defiance that made me do it, but I took him in, tasting myself, tasting him, and his hand cradled the back of my head.

“That’s it. Submitting so beautifully. Your dress is ruined. You’re covered in marks. Shaking. A mess.” He stroked my hair. “Do you know who you belong to now, princess?”

I looked up at him, his cock still in my mouth, and I couldn’t speak.

But he saw it in my eyes.

“Good girl.”

18+ MDNI “A Farmer’s Daughter” smut story

I was lost the moment I saw them.

His hands caught my eye before anything else. Long, thick fingers with knuckles like knots on oak, crisscrossed with veins that stood out against sun-browned skin. He worked them slow, rolling a cigarette between those digits, and I watched the way they moved, deliberate and knowing. The rest of him came into focus after: faded jeans worn thin at the knees, a button-down shirt with sleeves rolled past his forearms, the dark hair curling at his collar. He smelled like hay and sweat and something earthier, like sun-baked leather and a hint of motor oil.

When he finally touched me, his palm flat against my stomach, the heat of it seared through my shirt. I could feel every callus, every ridge. The roughness dragged against my skin as his fingers walked down, tracing the waistband of my jeans, dipping just beneath.

“You’ve been watching me all night,” he said, voice low and gravelly, like he’d been talking to cattle all day. “What do you want, sweetheart?”

I swallowed, throat dry. “Take me for a ride.”

His mouth curved, just a little. “I reckon I can do that.”

He didn’t rush. He stripped me slow, pulling my jeans off one leg at a time, his fingers grazing my thighs, leaving trails of fire. When I was naked beneath him, he knelt over me, still fully dressed, and let his hands explore, up my ribs, over my breasts, pinching a nipple until I gasped. The fabric of his jeans scraped against my inner thighs as he settled between them.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his thumb circling my clit. “Already so wet. You been thinking about this?”

I nodded, my breathing getting faster as he slipped one finger inside me. Then another. Stretched me open slow, working me, the thick joints of his knuckles pressing against my entrance. He brought his fingers to his mouth, tasted me, and groaned.

“Damn, girl..”

Then he unbuckled his belt. The sound of the buckle clinking made my pussy even wetter and it started to throb in anticipation. He pulled out his cock, it was long and lean like the rest of him, but with a head so swollen it looked almost purple.

“Ride me,” he said, gripping my hips and hoisting me on top of him.

I sank down slow, feeling that thick mushroom tip stretch me open inch by inch. The feeling of him filling me, not just length, but that flare of his head catching on my walls. A moan escaped my lips. He was everywhere inside me. I rolled my hips, grinding down, and his hands found my ass, guiding me, squeezing.

“Mmm, rough and deep,” he breathed, thrusting up to meet me. “Just like that.”

I could feel every ridge of his shaft dragging against my inner walls.

“You feel that?” he grunted. “That’s me buried so deep in your tight pussy.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, my hair falling around us as I rode him faster. He reached up and pulled my face to his, kissing me hard. His tongue pushed into my mouth as his hips pistoned up, fucking me into submission.

Then he flipped me onto my back, pinning my wrists above my head.

“I’m going to take you nice and deep now.”

He pressed my shoulders into the hay, his weight bearing down, his cock still slick with my wetness. He lined up and drove home with a smooth thrust as I spread my legs wide, heels digging into the sheets, arching to meet him.

“Fuck yes,” he groaned. “I can feel your pussy wrapped around me, squeezing me tight.”

His strokes were measured now, deep and deliberate. With every push, that swollen head hit something inside me that made my toes curl.

“Feel it?” he rasped, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in. “My cock is so swollen for you. Stretching you. Filling you.”

I clenched around him, deliberately, milking him..

“Oh God yes. You’re so tight, baby.”

He picked up the pace, his breathing ragged and I could feel him throbbing inside me.

“I’m aching for release,” he moaned.

He pulled out, flipped me onto my stomach, and yanked my hips back. His fingers found my wetness again, slathered it over his cock, then he found my hole and nudged in slowly, a little at a time, and then back out again, dragging that thick tip along my walls as waves of pleasure washed over me.

He started fucking me deeper and faster. Until the force of it knocked me forward.

He grabbed a handful of my hair and pressed my face deeper into the mattress as he fucked me.

“This pussy belongs to me,” he growled. “You hear that? Mine. Every inch of you. You’re going to come all over my cock.”

His weight pinned me flat, his chest against my back, his breath hot in my ear as he whispered filthy things between thrusts. “Feel how deep I am? That’s my cock splitting you open. You’re gonna feel me for days.”

I came as he talked me through it. “Yes, good girl, that’s right, come for me. You’re so close. Let go, I got you.” My pussy clamped down so hard I thought I’d break. The orgasm ripped through me in waves, my body shaking.

“Yes, fuck, come for me,” he said. “Come all over my dick.”

He followed a second later, his thrusts turning erratic, his body stiffening. He drove in deep and held there, and I felt it, the hot pulse of his cum flooding me, coating my walls, each spurt twitching through his cock. He stayed buried inside me, shuddering, until the last drop was spent.

When he pulled out, I was empty and leaking. But then his long, thick fingers, plunged back into my pussy immediately, pushing his cum deeper. He finger-fucked me slow, his thumb pressing against my clit until I came again, gasping into the sheets. This one was weaker, more sensitive, a series of fluttery clenches that clung to his fingers.

Then he pulled his hand out, glistening with our mixed release, and slid those cum-coated fingers into my mouth.

“Lick,” he said, his voice soft now, almost tender.

I wrapped my lips around his digits and tasted everything as I cleaned them, sucking every last trace, looking up at him through my lashes.

“Good girl,” he whispered, stroking my hair. “My good girl.”

Outside, a barn owl called. The crickets had gone quiet. I could still feel the ghost of his cock inside me, the ache of being filled, the trickle of his cum starting to seep onto the sheets.

This text contains explicit, mature sexual content. Potential content warnings include:

• Explicit Sexual Acts: Detailed and graphic descriptions of oral sex and deep-throating.

• Anatomical Descriptions: Vivid, focused descriptions of sexual anatomy.

• Submission and Power Dynamics: Themes exploring total sexual submission, control, and performance.

• Physical Intensity and Discomfort: Descriptions involving physical strain, gagging, and endurance-focused sexual activity.

The first thing I notice is the sheer length. It's a full rigid, demanding flesh. It rises from a thicket of neatly trimmed dark hair, the shaft a pale, almost ivory color that deepens to a flushed pink at the tip. The leftward curve is pronounced, an unmistakable arc that begins just below the head and sweeps steadily, making the entire length twist slightly as if it’s always searching for something to fill.

That curve, when it’s fully erect, is like a hook that buries itself in flesh. Vascular prominence, thick, rope-like veins coil along the underside and sides, standing out in high relief, pulsing visibly with each heartbeat. One particularly thick vein runs along the top, branching into a web of smaller tributaries near the base, giving the skin a textured, almost ridged feel under touch.

The head is a thick, flared mushroom shape, darker than the shaft and the ridge where the head meets the shaft is sharply defined, a swollen ring that promises intense friction. The slit at the tip is a dark, wet gash, often oozing a clear bead of precum.

But the most striking feature is the taper. It doesn’t stay thick at the head and then thin out. No, this cock widens continuously from the tip to the base. At the head it’s already thick, but as my eye travels down the leftward curve, the shaft swells relentlessly.

(voice of domtheimpaler - find him on Instagram)

An inch below the head it’s a solid girth; three inches down it’s noticeably thicker; by the time you reach the base, where the skin meets the tight, hair-cropped pubic mound, it’s a monstrous, root-like column that feels like a fistful of solid muscle.

The base itself is broad, the shaft seems to anchor itself deep into the body, stretching the skin taut over the engorgement. The left curve makes the entire structure look dynamic, as if it’s constantly pushing against something.

I can wrap two stacked hands around it, and still it stretches past my grip.

In motion, the veins engorge further, the mushroom head becomes slick with arousal, and the leftward curve becomes a weapon, hooking and pressing exactly where it’s needed.

Every thrust would drag that thick corona ridge against the walls, the widening shaft stretching and filling beyond measure. It’s a cock built for deep, brutal penetration, the curve ensuring that no matter the angle, it finds the spot and stays there.

Giving it deep throat is an act of surrender, a deliberate, breathless negotiation with a piece of meat that seems designed to test every limit of my throat.

On my knees, in front of the thick, left-curved shaft, I lean in, parting my lips, and the first contact is the taste, salt and skin, with a hint of musk. My tongue flicks out, tracing the curve of the corona, feeling the sharp ridge that will soon stretch my lips.

I open wide, taking the head into my mouth. It’s a stretch, that flared rim is nearly two inches across, and my jaw protests instantly. But I persist, sliding forward, letting the head pop past my lips.

The precum slicks the way, and I can feel the thick, rope-like veins on the underside press against my tongue. That leftward curve is already apparent: the shaft angles left as it enters, forcing me to tilt my head to accommodate its bow. I swallow around it, working your throat muscles to accept the intrusion.

I breathe through my nose, but not for long, soon it will prevent any air passage whatsoever. I am slow and deliberate, inching my way down, fighting panic with each passing second.

My lips meet the thickest part of the shaft just below the head, it’s already substantial, but as I push deeper, the continuous widening becomes a battle. Every fraction of an inch brings a thicker column of flesh. My hand wraps around the base, and I feel the heavy, root-like column pulsing against my palm.

My tongue is pinned beneath the shaft, sliding along the textured vein that runs the length. The left curve becomes a weapon as I descend: the head hooks left, pressing against the inner wall of my cheek, while the shaft follows, forcing my throat to bend in an unnatural arc. I feel the ridge drag along my soft palate, a thick, blunt ring of flesh that announces every inch of progress.

I reach the point where the shaft is widest, just before the base. My throat is full, stretched to its absolute capacity. The veins on the underside are like thick cords against my tongue, and I can feel each heartbeat throb through them.

I hold there, my nose pressed against the coarse pubic hair at the base, my eyes watering, your throat convulsing around the intruder.

To go deeper, to truly deep throat, requires relaxation, a conscious unclenching of the throat muscles. The left curve now works in my favor: it bends the shaft against the back wall of my throat, applying pressure exactly where it needs to go. I feel the head, that thick mushroom, lodging deeper, stretching the muscles that control swallowing.

I stay there, throat full of cock, my entire focus on not gagging. The veins pulse against my tongue, the shaft widens slightly even at the base, and I feel a dull ache in my jaw from being spread so wide.

Pulling back is a slow, deliberate drag. The corona ridge catches on the soft tissue of my throat, pulling it outward, and I feel every one of those thick veins as they scrape along my palate. My lips finally release the head, and I gasp for air, saliva stringing from the tip.

But I’m not done, I dive back down, repeating the motion, learning the curve, the taper, the exact angle that lets me take it all. Each time, my throat adapts a little more, accepting the relentless widening, the leftward hook, the thick mushroom head that seems to anchor itself inside me.

The experience is one of total submission. My mouth, throat, and breath are fully commanded by that long, left-curving, vein-laden pillar. Every gag reflex is a reminder of how much it fills me, every swallow is a promise of more.

And when I finally hold it at the base, my nose buried in his body, throat locked around the thickest part of the shaft, I can hope I have earned a place in his fantasies, a throat that can handle that monster, curve and all.