Becoming Cuntface · Part 1 (1/2)
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Disclaimer – this is a work of fiction, a mosaic of fantasies and multiple online sessions with multiple dom(mes). If you recognize your work, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.
I sat down in front of the computer with a bit of trepidation. It was time for the weekly Saturday morning session with Ozzy. My mind was already drifting into subspace as I looked at the box that he sent me. It was still sealed, but something in it jingled. I had my laptop booted, the mike hooked up, and cam was active. I sat and waited for him to log on. Sometimes I wondered if he purposely delayed logging in to drive home that I waited at his convenience. I smiled as I saw his name appear.
“Hello Cuntface,” he whispered in my ear.
“Cuntface is glad to see you Sir. She has the box.” Ozzy demanded that I always refer to myself in the third person as the last name that he gave me. It was always something humiliating, and reminded me of my status. I hated the name “Cuntface,” so he enjoyed making me use it. Banning me from using the words “me,” “my,” “I” and so forth drove me deeper under his control.
“Open the box. You’ll find smaller packages inside. Put box #1 on your dresser. Box #2 goes in the basement. Go.”
I quickly grabbed the small boxes, about the size that would hold a ring. I scampered to put them where directed, and felt my heart pounding as I returned. I wondered if it was from the scurrying, or if it was nerves.
“Cuntface is back Sir.”
He snickered. “Lube up the butt plug. Slide it in.”
I looked through the box. Some things seemed so random. They may have been put in just to throw me off or get me wondering. Or he might have a plan for each and every one of them. I picked up the large black phallus in my hand. Along its 5” of length, the rubber penis grew from its rounded tip to over 2” across at its widest, and then tapered down to a 1” neck before blooming into a wide flange. The flange thankfully stopped over insertion, but the idea of that sheer mass inside my ass was daunting. I realized that decision was already made; it was my job just to do it. I squirted a bit of lube onto the fake penis, and forced a smile into the web cam as I spread the clear goo to slicken the surface.
I was on sub-space autopilot as I unfastened my jeans, dropping them with my panties to my knees. I lined up the plug like I had done for smaller plugs before. I started to push it in, and held it in place as I tried to push it out. This puckered my anal lips, making them suck the plug in a bit when I stopped trying to force it out. Once it was teased halfway in I held it in place, and squatted on my seat, slowly lowering myself into place. I slid down the massive invader, feeling it fill my ass, more and more as I descended. A gasp escaped my lips as my sphincter finally grasped the neck of the black beast.
I panted out, “It’s in Sir.”
He smirked an amused, “Show it off to me Cuntface.”
I got up and bent over, giving the webcam a clear view of the base of the plug sticking out of my ass.
“How does it feel?”
“Master, it feels like a telephone pole is up there! It’s even bigger than the fearsome speculum at the ob/gyn office!”
“Does Cuntface want to fuck herself with the butt plug?”
My first thought was “God no!” Thankfully my mind realized that the unspoken alternative was doubtlessly worse before words left my lips. I faked a smile with a, “Yes Sir. Cuntface would love to fuck herself up the ass with the plug you graciously provided Sir. May Cuntface please fuck herself Sir?”
“Oh yeah. Make me proud.”
I pulled the plug partway out, groaning as the widest part of the plug forced my sphincter wide apart again. Then I had to ram it home again. With every thrust I remembered that Master was watching, smiling at my distress, and getting hard. I was doing this all for him.
“Look at the cam, and tell me how much you’re loving this Cuntface.”
I started running commentary with my thrusting. “Oh yes Sir! Thank you for allowing me to fuck myself with this massive cock Sir! Cuntface loves to take large rubber dicks up her ass Sir! The larger it is, the better it trains Cuntface’s ass for your glory Sir!” I kept on with a monologue, my head deep into the one thought that matters – pleasing him. The ache in my ass didn’t matter; it was a means to the end.
After what felt like five minutes, Sir finally said, “That’s enough Cuntface. Leave it in and add a support rope to make sure there’s no escape attempt. By the way, that video capture was exquisite.”
I blushed, and dutifully picked up the rope. I wrapped it around my waist, and tied it securely, leaving the loose end dangling down from my crotch like a wimpy imitation penis. This loose end was pulled through my crotch, and over the waist rope in back. As only half of the loose rope was used, I went to loop it over the front waist rope.
Master demanded, “Oh no Cuntface. Yank on it. Feel it burying that butt plug deep in your ass!”
I started tugging on the rope, with Sir goading me on. I yanked. I pulled. Each time heaving a gasp or groan from the plug worming its way deep into my exhausted ass.
“That will do Cuntface. Now spiral the rope around the first two passes. Over the waist rope in back, and then spiral the other way to make a nice fat rope.”
As I wrapped the rope per his directions, I dutifully thanked him for allowing me to please him this way. Of course, bending over with a butt-plug shoved up your ass is an experience – when bending at the waist, the plug doesn’t bend much. It forces my butt to conform to it, not vice versa. I felt thoroughly stuffed.
“Now go on your exercise bike. You can be off in five minutes if you go fast enough to please me.”
I stood up with another groan from the plug. I waddled over to the bike, setting up my laptop between the handlebars. I sat down, and realized that the bike seat and thick rope focused all my weight on the damned plug. I had to get off this soon! I started in with gusto. With each pedal, I could feel my body trying to grind itself onto the plug. My exertion had me sweating as I worked so hard to get my ass looking like some enormous crater. With Sir snickering, I pedalled on. I looked at the time – I still had two minutes to go. My sphincter was signalling defeat, but I knew that asking to be relieved of this task would only have it replaced by something more strenuous.
“Faster Cuntface! Or I’ll add more time!”
I redoubled my effort, picking up the pace to work this massive plug deeper into me. I worried about it going so deep it would poke into my heart or burst out of my chest.
“OK Cuntface! That’s enough biking. I want you in Second Life.”
I gasped, “Yes Sir. Thank you Sir.” I got off the bike, and my sore ass cried as my weight shifted. I hobbled back to my desk, still bent over. My body didn’t want to straighten up. I was exhausted and plopped into the computer chair. My weight hit, suddenly thrusting the plug deep into my ass. I howled, “Auugghh!! Oh fuck! My ass! Oh!”
“CUNTFACE!”
I snapped back. “Yes Master?” I panted.
“I didn’t tell you curses were acceptable behavior!”
“No Master. Sorry Master.”
“And you used a banned word! Actions have consequences. Get the panties and tape out of the box.”
I looked up, and I had indeed used a first person pronoun to him. Bending over to reach the box on the floor next to the chair elicited a groan. I leaned over, but the butt-plug stays where it is. The plug does not conform to me, but it forced me to conform to its size and shape. Massive butt plugs are not an “out of sight, out of mind” thing for the wearer. I nervously picked a zip lock bag with what must be pink panties and the roll of clear tape. I opened the bag and a stench started to fill the air. My god this woman stinks!
Master saw my facial expression and grinned. “Well, two weeks ago, I was playing with a slut online. I dumped her when you came on. She wasn’t happy, so I offered her revenge. She stunk up a pair of panties as much as she could just for you. Exercising, wiping off goo after she came, the whole bit. She was only too happy to help.”
I looked askance and held them with but two fingers, holding them away from me. They were clearly stained from repeated use. They'd need multiple trips through a washer before I wanted to touch them.
Master continued. “They seemed truly foul. And since you have a foul mouth, you are going to stuff those panties right on into it. As you don’t want to displease me further by spitting them out, I’ll helpfully allow you to tape them in place.”
I looked at these panties aghast. I have no idea who this stench of a woman even is! And I need to put her dirty crotch into my mouth? Just as I was about to say no, Master’s words resonated in my mind. Actions have consequences. This is a punishment for not calling myself “Cuntface” and for cursing. Remembering this will make me a better servant to Master.
I brought the panties up to my face. Oh god! They smelled like a cross between a locker room and a bordello! As if on autopilot, my mouth opened, and I stuffed the wadded up panties in. The panties were large enough to keep my jaw held wide open as if I was continually surprised. Damn! They tasted every bit as bad as they smelled! My face contorted in horror, so I quickly put a strip of the clear tape from ear to ear crossing my mouth to hold it in. Another strip went over it, just under my nose. A third strip went under it, down to the base of my chin. I panted through my nose and gave a doe-eyed look to Master, and hoped that he would relent.
I could hear the smile in his voice. “I like that look on you Cuntface. You’ll be panty-gagged more often.” As usual, Ozzy could see and hear me through the webcam. I was only allowed to hear him, not watch him. I nodded understanding as my hopes for a quick release were not only squashed, but hinted into having to endure it again in the future.
“Now about those tits of yours. They droop when bare, or are held in too much with a bra. I have a solution for that. Grab the shelf brackets out of the box.” I immediately complied and the anal stretching beast reminded me who was in charge.
I looked and found the clear plastic L-shaped brackets. Each leg of the L was maybe 5” long and an inch and a half wide. Master’s instructions continued, and it was as if my brain was only the messenger. He spoke, and my body moved as he commanded.
“Bend over such that your boobs are hanging straight down. Now put a bracket right at the base of a tit. Snug it right in there Cuntface. Tighter! That’s good. Now wrap a loop of tape around the base of your tit to hold it in place. Nice and snug!”
His instructions kept on as I cinched my boob in, bonding it with the bracket. I felt my boob start to throb and swell as blood was trapped by the snug tape band. “Now start to spiral down that titty. Keep it just as tight!” I felt the compression of the tape urging my boob to be narrower, and anything lost in girth was added to length.
“Oh yes. All the way down. Everything but your nipple. That stays bare. Nice Cuntface. And now do the other tit, just as tight.” I started wrapping the other one, almost treasuring the peeling sound as the tape left the roll, and the feel of unrelenting compression and throbbing in my boobs.
“OK. Now stand and show off your work.”
When upright, I saw what Master had done. My breasts jutted out like a pair of obscene torpedoes that were bursting forth from my chest in a display of wanton lust, just desperately begging for any attention. What just a few minutes ago were mammary glands that nature intended to feed infants had been transformed into a fetishist’s wet dream.
Master snickered. “Good! They look properly needy. Tell Master how your tits feel.”
“They are throbbing a bit from the pressure Sir, and their weight is not supported the best Sir. Cuntface can handle it for a little while.”
“OK. Take the tape, and run a strip from your right shoulder, between your boobs, under your left boob, and then up to your armpit. Repeat on the other side. I want your titties jutting straight out Cuntface.”
I complied, peeling and sticking tape to wind up with a transparent W shape adorning my chest to support my enhanced cleavage. “Thank you Master. It is more comfortable Master.”
“Good! That will be your bra for today.”
My eyes shot wide open. “But Master! Cuntface needs to go to her nephew’s high school graduation today Sir!”
Master burst out laughing. “Oh! I couldn’t have planned it better! This is perfect! You’ll be wondering if the teenagers are staring at you because of your impressive bustline or if they are staring at you because you are too self-conscious! Oh Cuntface! I am SO looking forward to your report!”
I looked down at my boobs straining to reach out to him, and realized the more that I tried to negotiate or try to get him to change his mind, the more he would enjoy my mental torment. Much as I thought my boobs were forced to look obscene, I also knew this just goaded him on.
“Now Cuntface, the chair you are in looks too comfortable. I know you have a metal folding chair. Go get it. And keep your jeans around your ankles.”
I stood and trudged down the hall to the closet to get the chair. I felt like a chastised kid who couldn’t even pull up their own jeans. I carried it back, setting it up, and sat down oh so carefully. The plug still slid deeper in me as it settled onto the multi-layer cord holding it in place.
At Master’s direction, I looped the middle of a long piece of rope around my ankles again and again, a bit looser than they could have been. Six loops were made, all laid out neatly. I then looped one end between my ankles around the middle of the six strands to cinch all of the ropes to their proper snugness. Not too tight, but secure. I then knotted it a few times to ensure it didn’t loosen.
“OK, now snake the ends of the rope up the legs of your jeans. Do a similar knot in the crotch of the jeans – doesn’t need to be snug, just to make sure the rope stays there.”
I duly threaded the rope up, and made a show of knotting the rope together again and again, pulling it tight each time.
“OK, now pull up your jeans.”
I smiled when I heard this. I could get dressed and not be as exposed! I immediately stood up, pulled up my jeans and buckled my belt before he changed his mind. Sitting down gets my jeans out of sight, out of mind! I sat down quickly, and the massive beast in my ass that called itself a butt plug thrust hard! I gasped and started panting, Master chuckled. “Oh, Cuntface! I love what that does to your boobs! Quite nice to watch! Well done! Now grab the luggage lock, and lock it through one belt hole, and lock that belt hole to the buckle. ”
I duly complied, and as the lock clicked shut I realized the lock prevented me from untying my ankles. I would need to hop wherever I needed to go. The key to this lock was just across the hall on my dresser – it shouldn’t be bad to hop that far. I knew Ozzy was enjoying watching me do his will. At times I wondered if he was stroking himself as we played.
“You know Cuntface; I enjoyed seeing you plop on the chair. The gasping, panting, the way it made your boobs bobble, the whole package.” I could picture him smiling at me as he paused, which made me nervous. “So let’s go into Second Life. Whenever anyone else calls you by name, I want you to stand up and plop down on the chair again. And make Master proud.”
Second Life is like a chat room with video. People come to socialize and improve how their avatar looks. Most people type to socialize, but some use voice. As my mouth was stuffed with an obscene panty rag, I would need to type.
We entered the game, appearing in some chairs surrounding a busy nightclub. Immediately someone greeted us. “Hi Ozzy! Hi Cuntface!”
I stood up, and plopped right back down. The feeling was well, quite intense and varied. The chair pounded the plug in a bit – kind of like a hammer tapping a nail. At the same time, my innards were still coming down, impaling themselves on the infernal ass stuffer. My ass rippled up, involuntarily squishing the plug. And the plug didn’t change shape to fit me; my ass had to accommodate it. My boobs flopped onto their thin
Becoming Cuntface · Part 1 (1/2)
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