Broken In by the Master: The Night I Became a Fucktoy

When this all started, I was so shy—soft and delicate, like a princess wrapped in silks and whispered promises. Master treated me like a treasure, showering me with gifts and gentle kisses, making love that felt endless and warm. I was safe in his arms, wrapped in a cocoon of tenderness I thought would never break.nnBut little by little, things changed. The softness faded, replaced by something darker, more raw. The first time he blindfolded me, I felt my heart race—not with fear, but with a growing hunger I couldn’t ignore. Bound in velvet handcuffs, I was his completely—helpless and craving. He took me deep and hard, his hands gripping my body, pulling me apart in ways I never imagined, his mouth claiming my nipples until they stood stiff and aching beneath his lips.nnI learned to obey every demand. I swallowed everything he gave me, every taste marking me as his. Then the toys came—first small, teasing, then larger and more insistent, stretching me open, teaching me to take more and more without hesitation. Blindfolded and restrained, I was a vessel for his pleasure, lost in the sensation of surrender.nnBut the real change came when strangers began to enter our world. At first, I only caught fragments of their voices behind closed doors, whispers that stirred a deep fire in me. Bound and blindfolded, I couldn’t see them, but I felt their presence, their hands, their need. Then I realized—sometimes, it wasn’t Master I was pleasing. And I didn’t mind. Not at all.nnWith time, the handcuffs were removed, granting me freedom to explore the mouths and bodies of those men. I learned to milk them, to draw them deep, swallowing every drop with a hungry eagerness that surprised even me. Each moment, I became less the shy girl I once was, and more the filthy, insatiable slut they all craved.nnI remember the day Master stopped fucking me himself. At first, it felt strange—like a cold shadow over the fire of my own hunger that only grew hotter. He didn’t need to touch me anymore—I was his fucked-out slut, ready for anyone he wanted to throw me to.nnStrangers took over. Random guys, unknown faces, hands roaming over my body like they owned every inch of me. Blindfolded, hands tied, but my cunt always wide open, dripping and aching to be filled. I didn’t care who they were—I just wanted to be used, taken, made filthy.nnMaster’s tastes grew darker, more dangerous. He hunted bigger cocks, seeking out the perverts lurking in the shadows—men no one would admit craving. He paid huge, thick black men to bury themselves deep inside me, their hands gripping my hips so hard I couldn’t help but beg without words.nnSometimes he even took me to the streets—homeless, stinking men with rough hands and rougher breath. I hated the smell, but when they fucked me hard and deep, I didn’t care. I was his slut. His filthy, broken toy for anyone who wanted to take me.nnWant the whole story? comment...