We’ve reached Week 9 of the Great British Bake Off and I haven’t written any baking-and-BDSM filth yet! In an effort to rectify that, I have written something inspired by an impact play scene with my delightfully masochistic partner… though it didn’t actually feature a rolling pin used in deliciously perverted ways.
Content note for degradation elements of consensual non-consent. Features impact play, sadism, and the misuse of a rolling pin. Please note that you really shouldn’t use a rolling pin for anal play, due to its lack of flared base.
You don’t ask me what I’m doing, as I lean against the sink with my arms crossed, smirking as I watch you roll out pastry. The last time you asked me, I pinned you down and told you in explicit detail what I planned to do to you, then made you beg for it. You’re not going to make the same mistake twice, so instead you keep baking while I watch you.
The adorable blush on your cheeks show you’re keenly aware that I’m perving on you. My gaze is almost predatory, and you’re biting your lip by the time you turn to me after putting the blueberry pastries in the oven. I draw out the moment, enjoying the apprehension on your face.
You grin at me.
“What, no foreplay?”
“For a slut like you? Nope.”
You hesitate before obeying, and I step over to the table and pick up the discarded rolling pin. I dust off the flour, and look at you as I thud it gently against my palm. There’s a spark of fear in your eyes, and it turns me on. I raise an eyebrow, and you quickly bend over the kitchen table.
(We made sure to buy a kitchen table sturdy enough that you could bend over it and get thoroughly fucked.)
I push up your shirt, dragging my nails down your back until you’re moaning. I admire the red lines as I tug down your jeans, and caress your arse through the purple lace panties.
“You’re such a beautiful canvas for me to hurt. I know you’re already marked up, but there are so many other ways I can make you writhe. And hurting you makes me so wet…”
You hiss out a fuck and I bend over you to kiss the small of your back. Grinning, I twist a finger in the crotch of your panties and pull them down. You wiggle, and I know you’re testing whether you’re suitably trapped by the clothes around your ankles. It’s not elaborate, but it’s another subtle way of reminding you how utterly at my mercy you are.
Your arse is a work of art, and even more so today because of the two blossoming purple bruises from the beating you took for me two days ago. I drag my nails down your back again, enjoying your shiver.
“Such a good slut, providing me with two beautiful targets to hit you on.”
I press two fingers, hard, into the bruise on your right butt cheek. As you squirm a little, I lean over and bite down – harder – on the bruise on the left side. Your moan is exquisite.
“Aww, does that hurt?”
“Yes.” Your answer is a whimper, and you try to turn around and pout at me. But my hand is on the back of your neck, pushing you back down.
You’re braced on your forearms, and I wait until the words has sept in and you’ve relaxed a little before I hit you for the first time. You yelp at the first strike, then growl as the second one comes even harder. I hit the other bruise – a deep, thuddy hit that makes a satisfying smacking sound. You make the most beautiful sounds as I hurt you, and I build up the hits until your moans sound raw and primal. You’re still blushing at my stream of filthy words, though.
“You’re so adorable like this, in pain just because I want to see you squirm.”
Your breathing is harsh, each breath ragged as you try to endure the pain for me. I am sweating a little as I ramp up the intensity of the beating, making you moan as I dish out blow after blow.
“Are you hard? Are you getting off on this?”
“Yes,” you breathe, and I know if I could see your face you’d be blushing at the admission.
“Time to fuck you then. Dirty slut.”
I hold the rolling pin down in front of your face.
“Spit on it.”
I can’t see your face, but I can hear the terror in your whimper that suggests that your mouth is suddenly dry. You know I’d never fuck you without proper lubrication, but the mind-fuck works every time. Your fear is incredibly hot.
“Pathetic,” I say. “Shoving this inside you is going to be so much fun.”
I pin you down with a firm hand on your upper back, pressing you into the table so you can’t see me grab condoms and lube. I rip open the condom packet, and add a generous schloosh of lube. I take my hand from your back to spread your ass cheeks, and spit. Your ass clenches involuntary, and you let out an obscene noise.
You can take the rolling pin without warm up, but I still go slowly. With the fingers of one hard making a circle around the pin to hold the condom in place, the other holds you open so I can push it inside.
“Relax,” I tell you. “It will hurt so much more if you clench up.”
Because I’m mean, I bend over and bite your left arse cheek bruise again, causing you to moan and clench around the rolling pin. I laugh at your discomfort, pushing it further in and angling it towards your prostate. I fuck you with short, quick strokes, and reach around to ghost my fingers over the head of your cock.
“So eager to be fucked you’ll take anything I push into your slutty hole. I think you should beg me to let you come.”
I squeeze your cock, and you inhale sharply.
“Though it might be more fun to push a butt plug into you and make you wait. We wouldn’t want those pastries to burn, after all…”
Masturbation Monday is run by the fabulous Kayla Lords. Click on the logo to see what everyone else is getting off to this week.
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Quinn Rhodes (he/him) is a queer, trans, disabled sex writer with vaginismus. He’s a slut and a sex nerd who writes about his adventures in trying to fuck without fucking up. Quinn can usually be found wearing stomp-on-the-patriarchy boots while falling in love every time he fucks.