I put her in the head harness, ball gag forcing her mouth wide open. She’s naked, quivering. Small nude thing hunched on the floor in front of me, eyes directed to the carpet, as per instructions. She gives a little groan as the gag fills her mouth, and another as I pull the first strap tight and begin to fasten it. Little sounds. Pitiable sounds. And then a sharper grunt. She holds up a hand, like she’s asking permission to speak.
I pause. Unfasten the strap. Ease the gag out of her mouth. She almost looks at me, but catches herself at the last moment and directs her gaze down to the carpet again instead.
“Yes?” I say.
“I… I’m sorry. I just… it’s just…”
“Tell me.”
She licks her lips. She’s blushing. “My… my nose is running.”
Ah. It’s almost amusing, how abashed she is. I can see it in her body language. She doesn’t want to gross me out. She’s perturbed, slightly, by the messy awkwardness of her body. Worried that a drip of snot might ruin the scene.
I put the gag down. How to convey this to her? I put an arm around her neck and pull her in close to me, throat in the crook of my elbow. Slowly, deliberately, I smear a hand across her mouth. Spit and snot. It wets her cheeks and hair. She squeaks, delicately.
“This is okay,” I tell her. I hold up my hand in front of her face. Her spit makes threads between my fingers. “It’s nothing. Just spit. Nothing. For the next hour, at least, we are going to do things that make you drool. Cry, maybe. Choke. Your nose will run. I might make you piss yourself. Or fuck your throat until you throw up in your mouth. You are going to make a mess. You understand? That’s a given. You’re not in control, anymore, of whether you make a mess or not.”
She listens to this stoically. Small breaths. The only sound: the same little groan as when I began tightening the ball gag.
“Okay?” I ask.
She hesitates only a moment, then nods. “Okay,” she says. I pick up the ball gag, put it inside her mouth and tighten the straps until she drools a long, translucent string of spit from the corner of her lips to the top of her thigh. She raises one hand, as though she wants to wipe it away, but doesn’t.
Yes!!!! I love how real and raw this is! Good scenes are often messy, like sheet changing, need a shave and a wash type of messy. And personally, the dirtier the better 😉
The dirtier the better is the credo I live by.
This is my thing with gags, I don’t like the drool… but my husband will do exactly the same as you did here, so I just have to accept and go with it.
~ Marie
From my point of view, at least, not liking the drool is what makes the drool so fun!
All types of pleasure are messy in some way i think
May
Agreed. There’s so much pleasure to be found in filth.
The warring emotions are so well depicted here, really pulled me into your scene.
Thank you! I love a bit of conflict 🙂