Content warning: Age play, consensual non-consent
(Caveat: This is a fantasy scenario involving consenting adults who engage in sexualized roleplay. In no way or form do I condone or desire anything like this with real children. Children cannot consent. This is a pre-negotiated scenario between adults who can use safewords to withdraw consent. In this scenario, "no" doesn't actually mean "no".)
The fantasy:
I grab your arms quite roughly, and cuff them in front of you. No gentle
leather cuffs this time. No ropes. Handcuffs only. Cold, biting, unyielding
steel against your wrists, keeping your arms contained. Giving you a serious
disadvantage, if you were to start fighting me.
You're looking nervous, innocent and somewhat bratty, in
that short skirt and top. You're barefoot, wearing just a pantyhose underneath the skirt. Arms stretched uncomfortably in front of your body,
your chest squeezed together by your upper arms to form the very beginnings of
a cleavage. You look young. You look delicious.
"Take off your clothes." My voice is already husky from desire.
"What?!? No!", you say. As if I'd asked you a question.
I grab your cuffed arms, and stand very, very close to you. Menacingly, I say: "First: You'll call me Sir. Secondly: I wasn't asking. Take your clothes off now, or else.."
"Or else, what?", you ask cheekily. Trying not to sound intimidated, but I can hear the slight hesitation in your voice. I can see the way your eyes avoid mine.
"Sir", I remind you. "Or else your clothes will be removed for you", I say, clearly enunciating each word as I grab a pair of scissors from a nearby table. "Now, last chance: Take off your clothes, little girl."
"No, Sir!", she throws back at me, in a bratty tone of voice. "No, I don't want to!" You're playing tough, but I can tell you're starting to worry.
"I forgot to mention something", I say, grinning, a sadistic gleam in my eyes. ""No" doesn't exist today."
I grab the scissors and take a step towards you. You back away, fear in your eyes, your cuffed hands up in front of you. "I'm just a little girl, Sir! Why are you doing this to me! You can't do this to me, Sir!"
"That's right", I grin. "You're just a little girl. And I'm the adult. I make the rules, I decide. I can do whatever I want, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."
Scissors in one hand, I grab your arms with the other and pull you closer to me. "Now you get ONE choice", I say firmly. "Stand still, or get cut."
Putting the scissors against your belly, I start cutting into the fabric on the side of your top. You squeal, equal parts ticklish and scared, but you have the sense to stand still. Cutting up through the arm hole under your arm, I grab and tear through the last piece of fabric on the sleeve. Just because I can. Because I want to show you how much bigger I am than you. How weak you are, compared to me.
Cutting along the shoulder, I come to the side of your throat. You're turned partially away from me now, silent and trembling. Eyes downcast. I make quick work of the rest of the top and tear it away from you. Then I remove your skirt in a few quick motions. Underneath you're wearing pantyhose. Through the sheer fabric I can also spot cute cotton panties. Typical for a girl your age. As I put the scissors to the edge of the pantyhose, near your hip, you gasp "No!" and try to move away from me. I grab onto the pantyhose before you can move too far. "That word doesn't exist today", I remind you. "And you were to call me Sir." I continue cutting and tearing at the pantyhose until all I can see on your legs is your young, beautiful skin.
"Better", I mumble, as you stand before me. You're naked except for panties and handcuffs. You stand slightly bent forward, trying to conceal your body from my gaze. You're clearly embarrassed, and somewhat worried for what comes next. I grab onto your upper arm and pull you towards the couch. "Come here", I say firmly. "Kneel on the couch for me, facing the backrest."
"What are you doing to me, Sir? No! I don't want this!", you protest. You struggle a bit against my grip on your upper arm, but quickly realize I'm much too strong for you.
I don't answer you, just attach the handcuffs to the rope already prepared. It's tied under the couch, on the other side, so while you're not tightly bound other than by your wrists, you still can't get anywhere.
"Sir, what are you going to do to me?" You sound worried now, kneeling backwards on the couch. Your head is turned towards me, struggling to see what I'm up to, your arms cuffed to the rope on the backrest. I don't answer you, just carefully open my belt buckle. This makes you more worried. By the sound of my pants hitting the floor, you've turned around to the cuffs and the rope. Pulling at it, twisting your wrists, trying to find a way out.
I'm hard, and looking at your young, almost-naked body makes me even more turned on. I move closer, and you glance back at me, still struggling to free your wrists. Not getting anywhere. One look at my crotch, and I can see you blanch. You've never done anything like this before, but you must have some idea of what I might do to you. Some idea you won't like it. Your attempts at freeing yourself grow more frantic, but I can see from the set of your shoulders that you know it's no good. You're not getting anywhere, until I release you.
I grab hold of your panties and push them down, exposing your bum. Then I take the scissors and cut them all the way off. I'm excited now, impatient. A gloved hand with some cold lube make you gasp and squirm. I stand behind you and slightly to the side, forcing my way into your hole, first with one finger, then with two. Your body is thrashing under me, as you start begging. "Please Sir, no. No, no, no! I don't want this. Please stop, Sir. I'll do whatever you want, just please don't do this. Sir, please."
I ignore your pleas for a while, as I finger you. Making sure you're lubed up and as open as you can go. You're a young girl with a very tight hole, after all. And you're struggling. This won't be pleasant for you. Luckily I don't have your pleasure in mind tonight. Just my own. And your pleading just makes it better.
"Really?", I ask mockingly. "You'll do whatever I want, if I just stop what I'm doing now?"
"Yes, Sir! Please, Sir, please, just stop this! I'll do whatever you want!"
I grin as I withdraw my fingers. "Will you be my good, little girl now? Will you stop fighting me, as long as I don't use my fingers on you like that?" I stroke her hair with my other hand, comforting her.
"Yes, Sir!" She leans into my hand, defeated and embarrassed. "Thank you, Sir. Anything but that. I don't want your fingers there." She shivers.
"That's my good girl. I won't use my fingers inside of you anymore... I'll use my cock in stead."
Your head shoots up, eyes wide, horror written in your face. "No!", you gasp.
"What did I say about that word?!", I say sternly. "And you forgot to use my title again. For that, I won't go as easy on you as I had first intended. You really, really don't want to make me more cross with you now, little girl. Or you'll be even more sorry." I roll a condom onto my dick and lube up. Grabbing your waist and hips, I make you bend down more so your bum is sticking out. As I line my dick up with your hole, you start begging again.
"Please, Sir. Why are you doing this to me?! I don't want this, stop, please!" Ignoring your pleas, I start pushing inside you. One long, slow, steady motion. Indomitable, I spear you, as you howl. "Noooo!"
I laugh, as I bury myself in your hole, and your shieks turn to moans. You're so full of me, right now, and you've got nowhere to go. I pull back out and push in again slowly a few more times, before I increase the tempo. When you can catch a breath, you keep begging me to stop. I don't answer you, and by now I don't think you really expect an answer either.
I moan as I plunge in and out of you, occasionally changing the depth or the speed to make you moan or shriek a bit more. I enjoy the sounds you make when I'm inside of you. You're so tight, so warm, so young. Beautiful, fragile, innocent. It's like your body was made for me to take, dominate, defile. Your pleading turns to mumbling and moaning, as you're shaking in your bonds. I think I see tears falling from your eyes, but by now I'm not really paying attention to what your face is doing. You're just a hole now, for me to fill.
When I can't take anymore, I lean over and untie you from the couch. I pull my dick out of you, then place you on your back on the couch, stretched out with your cuffed arms over you head. Straddling your slim, smooth body, my weight holding you down, I rub myself on you.Your head is turned away, eyes closed and brimming with tears, but I don't care. You're mine, I'm the adult here, and I can do whatever I want with you. Straining and panting, my face sweaty and red, I rub myself on your body until an orgasm explodes between my legs.
I lie on top of you, panting, in post-orgasmic bliss. Slowly getting up, I notice that you're covered in my sweat and other bodily fluids. Your face is soft, your eyes red and swollen. You blink at me, like a wounded animal, and I smile down at you. I unlock the handcuffs, and pull you close to me in a hug.
"You did good, little girl. I'm very happy with you. Come on, cuddle up in my lap for a while. Then we'll get you in the shower afterwards."
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