Daydreams and Distractions ☼ Forced Orgasm

Forced Orgasm
A Daydream & Distraction by RedBud

Why do you like it so much?

Are we your boyfriend? – your lover? – your husband?

You’ve tied us down, wrists above our heads, legs spread and ankles tied to the corners.

We’re naked. You’re not.

Tonight is the reverse of the way we usually fuck – when you’re naked and we’re not. Tonight you’re beautifully clothed. At first, you sit on the edge of the bed and you trace your finger nail, index finger, around our belly button. You trace the muscles of our abdomen.

You’re wet.

What is it that turns you on so much? Is it the feeling of power? You, who are usually naked and penetrated, are fully clothed. We, who delight in surprising you with our strength, are helpless – and vulnerable. We’re looking at you. We’re looking at the round jut of your breasts. Our cock is stiffening and lengthening.

But there’s nothing we can do about it. You smile at us.

You stand. You start at the top and, button by button, decide when and what we’ll see of your nakedness. We groan and our cocks rise from our groins. You feel the fuse begin at your clit and pop at your breasts. Is this what you like so much? Our desire for you? The way you turn us on? Do you like that it’s your body that turns us on? You feel desirable and desired, don’t you.

Look at us squirm.

We want you so much. We’re lifting our hips off the mattress. But we can’t get to you. You smile and push down your skirt, over your ass first, bending your knees, then the front. The panties stay on. You tease us. We want to see more. But you like that too, don’t you. This man, this one man, has your permission to see you as a sex object. You want to be our sex object. I think it’s true. You tease us with the motion of your hips: a woman’s sinuous motion, the motion of a woman riding a cock.

You tease us with a finger just at your parted lips.

You pinch your nipple with your other hand, as if you were offering us a grape. We stare at it. We have to. You like that, don’t you. Is it because boys were always staring at your tits when you didn’t want them too? Or did you want them too but were afraid to let them know the truth  Now you’re safe. You’re safe with your lover. We’re trapped, naked, and we can’t hide the effect you have on us; better yet, we can’t do anything about it. You’re free. You can be whatever you’ve always wanted to be – the temptress – sexual and hungry.

You return to the bedside.

You trace your nail’s tip from our toe, to our calf, and upward until you cup our balls. You weigh them. Do they feel full to you? Can you tell? Did you imagine that a boy’s balls filled with semen as he stared at your hips and legs. Now you know better, but the fantasy still turns you on. Our cock has lifted from our belly.

Tell me that doesn’t turn you on. It’s all for you. You can judge how much we like or love you. We buy you roses, we take you to dinner, but this is visceral. This must make your stomach feel light. When the rest is words, the body doesn’t lie. This is physical. You like the word animal. Whatever we think about you is there, visible, declared by our cock. Our body speaks to you. Our body praises you. We can’t hide it.

You respond.

Your belly is moist. Your nipples are flushed and full. You want us to know.

This is power too.

When a man has bound a woman, we feel joy. How many times have we fantasized about such a woman? How many times, woman, have we come when you spread your legs for us, when you showed us the way inside you, when you opened yourself in the pages of pornography? When a man ties you down, when you let yourself become whatever we want you to be, we will first, almost to a man, press our cocks to your lips, and you will suck.

You know why you suck it.

We do too. When a woman takes a man’s cock in her mouth, she accepts him, she acknowledges him — his masculinity — and she submits, if only symbolically. Our cock is in your mouth.

Is that why you do it? Is that why you straddle our face, spread your knees and lower your pussy to our lips. When you close your eyes, arch and pinch your nipples, what are you imagining? What do you feel? Is it the sheer pleasure of the intimacy, the fact of your womanhood – the part of you that has always been the most hidden; the most joked about; the secret and dirty part of you; the part that every man desires and imagines? Here, you say with your body, I am a woman. Here is what you want. I know you want it. Acknowledge me, acknowledge my sexuality, acknowledge me for what I am. Your wetness and scent fills our mouths. Our lips and chins glisten with the smell of you. Do you like that?

The smell of you!

And the pleasure! The softness of a man’s lips and tongue pressed against and inside you. Do you feel beautiful?

What then? Do you want to know how crazy you make us? What makes you do it? What makes you stare into our eyes as you slide down our chests. Your wetness and scent mark us and leave a warm and cooling trail. You move downward.

When a man moves between your bound and opened legs we feel god-like. We will fuck you. We are finally free to be who we are. Your bound wrists and ankles tell us you accept us, your trust us. You give your lips to us. You give your breasts to us . You give your opening and womb to us. Your body says to us: Use me, take your pleasure in me.

And when we fuck you, we want to see you come, to joy in our masculinity.

There is no greater validation. Let your acceptance and submission be what brings you to orgasm. We want to be your orgasm.

Is that why you do it?

As you slide down, you don’t need to hold us. Your hands support you above our shoulders. You gaze into our eyes. You want to see our every expression as the tip of our cocks, our being, are slowly captured inside you, by the hollow between the lips of your sex. We can’t hide. We can’t escape you. You won’t let us. You move aside your panty. You take our being inside you. You make us belong to you. You won’t let us think of anything but you.

We’re too hard, too stiff and swollen with desire for you.

All you have to do is press and your belly swallows the tip of us. We are bathed in your heat and wetness. We can’t move. We can’t breathe.

Is that what you like?

Do you like knowing we can’t escape you? After all those years of being looked at secretly and blatantly, do you feel in control? Do you like how it feels? It’s not us watching you, but you watching and watching as we lose control – just what we always wanted from you.

We don’t want to.

We’re not ready. But you like that too.

You move. Your motion is sinuous, feminine and knowledgeable. You are filled with knowledge of our bodies, such that only a woman’s body possesses. You rise and fall. Sometimes you let us know your full depth and heat – ‘This is what is possible,’ your bodies say. Our cocks glisten with you. Sometimes your motion is slight. Your hips flick and you gaze at our eyes, begging you. Only the tip of us moves in and out of you. You rise and you tease. Your nipple grazes our lips.

Here it is, says your body.

We stiffen. We struggle. We pull the binding tight and though we can move our arms and legs, our cocks remain trapped inside you. Though we struggle, your body moves gracefully up and forward, and back and down, never ceasing.

Our cocks betray us.

They answer your body, not us. Our cocks answer the motion of your belly with their stiffness – ready for your own readiness.

Do you like that?

Do you like knowing that there’s nothing we can do. Do you like knowing that our cocks answer to your belly, but not to us. Do you like knowing that this is your body’s birthright? Do you like knowing that there’s a part of us that, once inside you, is yours? Does it make you feel desired? Does it make you feel beautiful? Does it make you feel womanly?

You lick our ear.

You smile. You speak. Finally. You say: “Deny me. Just don’t do it.”

But you smile a sly smile. Your hips never cease their motion. The wetness of your belly grips and suckles our body. Your body, woman, will take what it wants from ours. We arch. We stiffen. We groan and our eyes roll.

We orgasm.

You empty us. You take from us. Do you feel the bursting of our cocks inside you? Trapped?

We can’t stop it.

There’s nothing we can do about it.

We orgasm because of you. And when we are finally still, our orgasm is safely in your belly, you smile knowingly. We never had a chance, and maybe you like that most of all.

:Will Crimson
December 6, 2010

  • Being addicted to the dashboard, I noticed that we’ve had lots of visits from the Yahoo Group Boys Forced to Come. Though I don’t know what message #784 is all about, I have a feeling they like the story: She Reads Erotica. In honor of our invisible guests, I thought I’d write a story just for them.

Latest Comments

  1. nilla says:

    absolutely *smokin* hot…in fact, if i still smoked, i’d be laying back and taking a big puff just now…


    yeah, Will, it *was* that good…

  2. Eb says:

    Well that got my fire burning…might go stand out in the rain for a little while to cool down. Oh how it made me miss tying a man down with silk scarves, riding him till he throbbed, stopping, kissing, riding him harder, stopping tickling, & then riding him till he burst with the near agony to do so inside me. *Sigh*
    Ahem…yes, cold rain I think ;)

  3. Vineyard Road says:

    Yes, Mr. Crimson, yes…
    ALL those things are what we need and desire from you.
    And yes… your interest is why we are the Goddesses we are.
    It’s all for you.

  4. Peter says:

    I did not like the “royal we”. I felt it was so distracting as to destroy the imagery. Perhaps you could explain your rationale for the linguistic device in your comments.

    • nilla says:

      IMHO (and Will will confirm or deny)…that he was speaking on behalf of *all* men, *all* women, encapsulated in this one snapshot in time…


    • willcrimson says:

      Thanks Nilla, I just saw your reply. And the way you read it is just how I intended it.

    • willcrimson says:

      I did not like the “royal we”. I felt it was so distracting as to destroy the imagery. Perhaps you could explain your rationale for the linguistic device in your comments.

      I wrote it that way because I didn’t want it to be about ‘me’, but about “everyman” — men, all of us; and because, above all, I was writing it to women.

      I can see why you might not read it that way.

      Unfortunately, in English, the nominative form of the second person plural went out of style – it used to be Ye (which is the form I would have used if I had written this 400 years ago – shortly before being imprisoned for indecency). I probably could have indicated that I was addressing “everywoman” when I wrote “you” by writing something like “all of you”. In that sense, all of us (men), are addressing all of you (women).

      So… that’s the rationale. :-)

      If enough readers are in agreement with you, then I’d consider changing it.

  5. Paul Thom says:

    Hi Will,

    Exceptionally good story. I loved it. You have captured what it feels like

    • willcrimson says:

      Yes, Paul, thank you, but I’m going to ban you from this blog if you don’t at least strike my fingers with a ruler when you see so many typos.

      I just looked at the story after your comment. Good grief. I think I must have written this in the third person, originally, and missed some of the verb tenses. I do that frequently. I begin a story in one narrative mode, then decide it would be better in another.

  6. Anonymous says:

    This is extremely hot and as molten lava…

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