We’re officially starting this year’s festive filth, because my planned post on building fantasies couldn’t stand up to this brilliant prompt photo. These candy-cane striped stockings gave me all sorts of dirty thoughts, including one about a struggle-fuck where a submissive squirms against her bounds.
Content note for consensual non-consent play, degradation and struggle-fucking. This post also includes affiliate links.
She’s naked apart from her stockings. Her thigh-high, candy-cane striped stockings, that she know makes them want to fuck her. She’s waiting for them, smirking slightly. It’s her non-verbal request for them to fuck her up, and they’re only too happy to oblige.
Before she can open her mouth to say whatever bratty thing she thinks will spur them into really hurting her, they have grabbed a fistful of her hair and are using it to pull her to her feet. They bend her over the sofa, pushing down on her with their full weight so she knows that she can’t escape. She wiggles and fights back, of course, but they’re stronger.
Which she knows: she loves being overwhelmed by their physical strength. When they’re on top of her like this – holding her off balance and spreading her legs so they can roughly grope her cunt – it feels almost as though she can’t breath, can’t think. It’s incredibly hot.
With one hand firmly cupping her cunt and their body pressed tightly down into her, their other hand can cover her mouth. They know this makes her feel even more helpless, and her muffled moans are adorable. It also leaves them free to whisper filth to her without her bratty interruptions, to remind her just how fucked she is.
“You want it rough, little bitch?”
She tries to nod, but they’re holding her firmly in place. They change how they’re holding her down, so they can smear the wetness from her cunt all over her face.
“Do you feel how wet you are? Messy sluts get fucked, you know that.”
With a hand between her shoulder blades pinning her in place, their other hand slides down their thigh and peels off one of her stockings. The candy-cane striped stockings that she’d worn to taunt them would help hold her in place so they could fuck her as hard as she was asking for. They pull her hands behind her back, enjoying how she struggled but was unable to stop them from tying her hands together.
The leash-like tail end of the impromptu restraints lets them pull her back into a position that must be uncomfortable for her but allows them the freedom to pinch her nipples until she yelps. They grin at her whimpers of pain, and twist her nipples harder.
“Oh do you like that? Because I’m using your teasing candy-cane stockings to tie my dirty little bitch up, I can use my belt to fuck up your beautiful skin. You just don’t look right without my marks on you. Or maybe I should beat your cunt with it – would you like that?”
Her moan is desire laced with fear: they love taking her to this place, where a small part of her is genuinely scared of what they might do to her. They stop torturing her nipples and spin her around, still holding tightly to the striped restraints in case she forgets who’s in charge.
“Filthy bitch,” they spit at her, and her wide grin is a complete contrast to their harsh words. She’s loving this, and she’s so wet and she’s torn between excitement and dread for whatever they’ll do to her next. So they kiss her.
Then they push her backwards on to the sofa, and laugh as she struggles to find her balance. They kneel down and grab her hips, pulling her towards them so they can force her legs open. They examine her cunt, taking delight in how exposed she feels with her arms tied behind her back. She whimpers when they bite her thighs, but she’s more worried when they pull back with a thoughtful look on their face.
“I was going to wait and give this to you as a Christmas present, but it looks like you need it now. Instead of stuffing it into your stocking, I guess I’ll have to stuff it into you. And yes, it’s going to hurt you a lot more than it’s going to hurt me.”
She sticks her tongue out at them – the unspoken signal that she wants them to keep going. They grin, wondering if they can make her scream by fucking her with that thick, new dildo without stretching her out first…
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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.