The Fucking Machine: Drugged, tied down and used

You said yes to the drink. That was all I needed. We’d talked about this...the scene, the setup, the machine. You’d said you wanted it rough. But you didn’t know it would be tonight. You didn’t know I’d drug the drink just enough to make it foggy, slow…helpless. Now you’re waking up. Bound over the bench. Arms tight. Head swimming. And I’m right here...calm, in control, reminding you how this works. Telling you to breathe. To feel. You can’t move. Can’t stop what’s coming. I stretch you with my fingers first...slow, deep, relentless...until you’re shaking, leaking, already desperate. And then I bring the machine forward. Thick. Unstoppable. Pressed against you until you’re open enough to take it. And once it’s in, there’s no escape. It finds your sweet spot and doesn’t let up. Not when you cum. Not when you cry. Not when you beg. I told you I’d ruin you, love...and I meant it. But when it’s done…when you’re trembling and broken open and empty for me…I hold you. I loosen the restraints. I pull you into my arms. Blanket around your shoulders, head on my chest, my fingers stroking your hair. You asked for this. You trusted me with everything. And tonight…I took it.