The belt tightens around my throat, and my cunt gushes instantly. After all dark fantasies rule my cunt.
Consequently, every cell in my body knows exactly what I am.
Ultimately, just a fucktoy built for destruction.
Inevitably, a breathing vessel for cock and cum and nothing else.
Furthermore, Master calls me his bimbo Barbie. Simply put, plastic and pretty and completely hollow inside. As he says, my vacant eyes make the perfect canvas for his darkest needs.
Therefore, when his fingers curl around my windpipe, I simply smile and get even wetter.
Moreover, the asphyxiation games started mildly. With his palm pressed flat against my mouth while he rutted into me. Then came the belt.
Even a rope. But the plastic bag with a cute little pink ribbon tied around the opening really had me gushing.
Essentially, each session pushed further. Deeper. Closer to that final edge.
Additionally, I’ve become an accomplice in my own demise. Oftentimes, I hand him the tools. Then I position myself exactly how he likes.
Moreover, I beg prettily for more pressure, less air, harder thrusts. Truth is, my survival instinct died long ago. Now only the hunger remains.
Last night, he brought a friend. So, they took turns choking me while the other fucked my throat.
Consequently, my vision blurred into static, and my body convulsed in what could have been death or orgasm.
Honestly, I couldn’t tell the difference anymore.
Finally, Dark Fantasies Consume Me Completely.
Now, I dream of his hands closing permanently. Of my last breath being his exhale. Moreover, my final sensation was that of his hot seed flooding my ruined insides.
Therefore, I exist in the space between life and death. Simply, a vessel for pleasure and pain. His plastic bimbo doll to dress up and break down.
Moreover, when the belt finally cinches too tight, I’ll thank him with my dying breath. Because bimbos like me don’t deserve happy endings.
We deserve exactly what we get.
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