#Coercive Control

[sapphicaideposts]

Convincing a ditz that it's normal for girls to strip infront of each other.. that it's fun choosing clothes for each other, even if the clothes I choose for you are pretty lacy bras and matching crotchless panties

Saying I'm sorry when I accidentally touch your pussy while telling you your panties are a bit skewed... taking note of how shiny it is

Asking you to give me a little twirl to show me how good you look... Telling you your ass looks amazing in those panties, then you show off by bending over and shaking your ass but you forgot you have those panties on didn't you darling?

That's very inviting darling... Bet you'd want my fingers in you right now huh... You'd act all surprised when I slip a finger in you while you shake your ass

You'd act all innocent trying to push my hand out but I'm not even thrusting it in... You'd ask me what I was doing, that friends don't do this

But I'd shush you telling you that I just couldn't resist... Slowly thrusting my fingers in and out as I kiss your neck

Shush baby, this'll feel nice I swear, good friends do these things too. Just be good for me hmm?

Will you be a good girl, baby?

[guildofpriapus]

Faversham Nightingales:

An Academic Exploration by Petunia Heartsease Mannerwell.

In "Faversham Nightingales," author P.H. Mannerwell offers a profound examination of social dynamics at the turn of the century, focusing on orphan girls and illegitimate daughters compelled into roles as maids, housekeepers, and governesses. This scholarly work delves into the intricate web of secrecy and societal pressures surrounding the illegitimate offspring of the elite—figures whose very existence was often cloaked in mystery to protect the reputations of their influential progenitors.

Set against the backdrop of the notorious Faversham Academy in Riverdale County, Mannerwell critically analyzes the intersection of gender, class, and power. The book sheds light on the systemic marginalization of these young women and the pervasive culture of silence that sought to contain their stories of identity and resilience.

Through meticulous research and compelling narrative, "Faversham Nightingales" uncovers the hidden histories of women navigating a patriarchal society, offering insights into the mechanisms of social control and the quiet resistance of those relegated to the periphery. This work is essential reading for those interested in gender studies, social history, and the enduring impact of societal norms on individual lives.

[kissesandarsenic]

Having a bunch of subs who I pair up into couples so I can sit in the corner and watch them fuck like a voyeuristic perv, shouting directions and encouragement as they go.

[sapphosdesires]

She was powerless to resist them. She had no option but to give into the demands of the two aging lesbians who had the documents, the evidence of what she'd done. The price she had to pay for their silence was to go back to their house with them and submit to their perverted demands. She shivered as the older one moved close in and whispered what they were going to do to her that night. 'Oh my God' she thought, 'I'm going to have to go through with this; I can't contact Dave... or anyone. What a fool I've been.' And she felt a hand on her thigh pushing its way up between her legs.

[lavenderfemme]

You know how good it feels to have a Butch put their full weight on top of you?

Imagine them agreeing to lay on you. You’re giddy, so excited that they agree to satiate your need for that lovely, comforting pressure. They ease their sturdy, strong body on top of you, laughing at how excited you are to be so close to them, to feel fully engulfed and protected.

You glimpse their jaw, the edge of their cocky smile, before they bury their face into your hair and sigh, settling in place.

(Noncon/dubcon, strap on sex, rough, degradation, coercion, butch/femme)

You wrap your arms around them in contentment. They press a kiss to your neck. You sigh and smile, feeling their kisses travel up to your ear. Their hands come to grip your waist tightly as they bite into your earlobe; the energy has changed. You squirm as they begin to suck the skin beneath your ear, their hips grinding what you realize is a hard packer against your pussy. You run your hands up the length of their back to try and soothe them, but they only begin to suck and bite and lick the skin of your neck more.

Their hands go to your thighs and part them, silently telling you to wrap your legs around their waist, and let them press their hard length against your crotch fully. They move one hand up your torso and under your hoodie, groping your breast and rolling your nipple between two fingers.

You whine and try to push them off, but they are so much stronger and bigger than you.

“Come on, not fair,” they whisper, reaching down to your pussy and checking your wetness. “You didn’t think I wouldn’t get hard from this?”

You bite your lip, feeling naive and sheepish. “Just the tip, baby, please. I’m fucking aching here.”

They rub their bulge against your damp panties. Without asking, they slide the wet cotton to the side and lightly probe your hole. You had gotten wet from the smell of them so close, the sight of their sly half smile, and of course, the feeling of their lips on your neck. You feel betrayed by your body— it’s putting you in the position to get fucked, whether you like it or not. They grind into you one more time, and you can feel how big they are. You swallow a fearful moan.

Suddenly, their fly is being unzipped, and the hard head of their cock is against your clit. They tease you with it, your eyes rolling back and most of your resolve falling away. “Just the tip,” you remind them, and you feel them nod against your neck.

“Mm hmm,” they say, and you both moan at the feeling of their cock lightly pushing into your pussy. They let their fingers dance against your clit. “Open up for me, my love. It’s just a little bit. There you go.”

You stroke their hair, hoping that they’ll pull out, let you grind against their bulge until they cum like you usually do. This is a step past what you were ready for, and you both know it. As they lightly pump the head of their cock in and out, you think about how they helped you build your desk, and hang up the pictures in your apartment, and bought you a drink. They are such a good butch to you, aren’t they? Maybe they need a little reward.

Their hands are exploring your body now, shamelessly groping and gripping and tugging and squeezing. You gave an inch, and they are taking a mile. A particularly desperate squeeze to your tits makes you moan, and they bite into your shoulder.

“I’m sorry, love,” they whisper, and you pull their face out from your neck to give them a confused look. What are they apologizing for?

Your eyes meet, their brows knit together and lids low as they pant against your mouth. “I’m sorry, I need it,” they whisper, and slam the length of their cock into you.

You cry out, and they quickly cover your mouth with their own. As if to subdue you, they fuck you deep and slow, their own lips falling open and a litany of “oh fuck” and “good girl” meet your screams. Their cock is huge, and your pussy burns from the incredibly stretch of being fucked so deep and so full.

You push against their shoulders until you physically give out. Your butch rises up and pulls your hoodie up and out of the way. the sight of you splayed out on your purple comforter, panties pulled to one side, tits bouncing free, pussy stretched around their big hard cock buried to a hilt inside of you. They grind their cock deeper in, drag your hand down to your clit, and make you play with yourself as they reach behind them. You do as they please, unable to fight them off now. Despite how uncomfortable it is, you can’t deny how wet you are. Suddenly, their phone is in hand, and they’re taking photos of you.

“Please stop, it hurts,” you whisper, and they ignore you, marveling in the sight of their slick cock sliding in and out. They drop the phone after a few flashes go off, and they chuckle.

They don’t stop fucking you, pressing the tip of their cock against your cervix and shuddering. “Keep playing with your little clit,” they say, spitting on your pussy. “It’ll feel good in a sec, you’ll see. Just lemme fucking cum. Be good.”

They place a hand on your lower belly and press into where you ache, where you feel totally past your limit, and they begin thrusting hard and sloppy, drunk on the feeling of your tight, wet warmth stroking their cock, and the feeling of finally claiming you.

Dimly, you think of the photos they took, and what they’ll do with them later. You think about the group chat they’re in, with all of their handsome butch friends who often slap them on the back for dating you, who give you lingering hugs. Will they see the pictures?

“Please, hurts,” you shudder out, and they replace your hand with their own, their thumb digging into your clit and swirling in tight circles. Your legs begin to shake.

“You don’t know how bad I need this, baby,” they say, gripping your hips. “Just take it. Please, baby keep fucking taking it. I know it’s big, I know.”

Their thrusts become particularly rough, and you begin to beg them to cum, unable to take it anymore. They slap your face and spit into your mouth before pressing their hand over your mouth. “I’ll cum when I wanna, slut,” they said. “Let me use this pretty pussy of yours.”

Instinctively, you wrap your legs around their hips and draw them close. You can feel the dampness of their back through their thin shirt. Your mind begins to quiet as they bottom out inside of you. They abandon your clit to fully focus on their pleasure, but you notice how good it feels when their public bone presses into you. You moan and go slack, letting it happen.

“That’s right, darlin,” they shudder, pulling out all the way before slamming back into you. “Take it.”

You nod into their hand, tears spilling out of your eyes. “Yes, daddy,” you say, muffled.

In an instant, they’re cumming in you. They throw their head back with a triumphant moan of release, rutting their cock in deep with each wave of pleasure. They take their hand away to see your face, fucked out and smeared in mascara and lipgloss and spit. They flash you a predatory grin as the shoot another load into you, before they fall back on top, crushing you again.

You realize now how badly they did need this. As your pussy fills with cum, you gently brush your fingers through their hair, grateful to be taken by such a passionate and loving butch. Their cock slowly slides out of you and they sigh, finally feeling relieved from your relentless teasing.

“What a good girl,” they whisper, kissing your face. “What a good girl for me.”

Later, as you get dressed, you spot them texting. A photo of you was sent to their group chat, your eyes closed, mouth agape, pussy stretched and rosy and drenched.

“Finally hit,” was what they had written. Several heart reactions were attached to your photo.

“Saved the pic,” wrote one Butch. “So hot.”

“Fucking whore,” wrote another.

“Tight?”

“Me next!”

[shadowsofcontrol]

"You should forgive them and move on." Forgiveness is a personal choice and not a requirement for healing. For some survivors, it may come in time, but for others, it may never feel right—and that’s okay. Telling someone to forgive their abuser minimizes the pain they’ve endured and implies that healing can only happen if they let go. Instead, focus on supporting their journey, whatever that looks like for them.

[breenova222]

Good girls wear cute panties

[she-is-ovarit]

How many women wouldn't leave before Helene reached them—or won't leave before Milton reaches them—because they are so trauma bonded to a violent and angry man they married? How many women died from Helene because they were more terrified of him than they are of the storm?

[crimson-and-clover-1717]

I’m supposed…to kill…you

Not I was going to

or I decided to

or I planned to

I’m supposed to…

That’s outside agency. An expectation or a requirement. Does Stede pick up on the nuance even unconsciously?

Ed is signalling through language choice, whether he means to or not, that he Does Not Want This. That he’s being coerced. That this is against his will.

Ed just wants a friend, and to cuddle that friend’s hand.

[shadowsofcontrol]

Abuse doesn’t have to be visible to be real. It’s the subtle “jokes” that chip away at your confidence. The constant phone checks, “just to make sure you’re okay.” The silent treatment when you step out of line. It’s all the quiet ways they make you smaller.

[thatpuppyboything]

[Part 1]

You've been my therapist for a few months now. As I got to trust you more, I started to talk in depth about my sexual traumas.

You've seen how vulnerable it made me feel to talk about it. You've been feeding of the details I gave you, how it happened, where, with who, and slowly you made a plan for how you were going to use it to your advantage.

At the beginning of one of our session, you ask me how all these traumatic experiences impact my sex life.

I tell you that I dissociate a lot during the act, that I feel out of my body.

“Do you ever touch yourself ?” You ask.

I look at you surprised and blush, nodding slowly.

“What do you think about when you masturbate ? What are the pictures that comes to your mind ?”

You see how I shift in my seat, how I become increasingly uneasy. You sweeten your voice and say, reassuringly:

“Don't worry, I ask that to help you. You can be honest with me, I won't judge.”

I stuttered and finally answer:

“You know, it's weird, sometimes I see myself going back to… these times… Like it turns me on.”

You smile. With a nod, you say:

“It's a fairly common reaction. It doesn't mean anything. It's a way of coping with these events.”

You look into my eyes, still smiling, and after a brief pause, you tell me:

“I want us to do a little exercise now. Tell me what turns you on in these experiences. Think of it as a positive reinforcement method.”

I blush more, my face burning hot. I feel so ashamed of this but I trust you, surely you ask me that to help me with healing from my traumas, right ?

“I-I don’t know… It’s the feeling of being posessed, the helplessness, it’s kind of… You know… If done in the right setting it can feel very good to just let go… Give up… And be used, in a way ? Gosh I can’t it’s so embarassing. Can we drop this ?”

I try to compose myself and hide my heavy breathing, but I’m bright red and a bit sweaty and look like I’m about to melt.

You say:

“That’s okay. How do you feel right now ?”

I swallow.

“I feel… Well, I’m a bit… Worked up, but I guess that’s normal because that’s not something you say to people and stuff… It’s weird…”

You smile at me.

“No, no, that’s not weird. As I said, that’s normal, that’s natural. Do not feel ashamed of that.”

Your smile disappear and it seems like you are choosing your words carefully.

“You know… I think that’s something you should explore, in a safe setting, it can really do wonders. A lot of people tend to reenact these traumatic experiences to take their power back, and to transform this memory of pain into pleasure. Maybe it’s something you could do ? Just like you touch yourself thinking about it ?”

I squeeze my legs together. I feel my cunt pulsating with everyword you say and my clit is erected and sensitive. It’s so hard not to pant. I look at you, handsome, so reassuring, so… safe ? But I know that’s a wrong thing to think about, you are my therapist, we have a client/professionnal relationship. Surely it would be a really bad idea.

[breenova222]

Heavily on my mind lately

Being coerced into getting high by 2 people who are completely obsessed with me. Once I’m nearly completely out of my mind they use the opportunity to explore every part of me.. at the same time. Both sucking on one of my tits; one fingering my mouth while the other fingers my pussy; one rubbing my clit while the other fingers my ass, the list goes on

[comeplaym3]

thinking about all of these posts coming back to bite me in the ass one day, only for me to end the night with my legs locked around his waist as he claims me

[guildofpriapus]

E A R M A R K E D

Wives and daughters singled out for sale or exchange at auction are identified by white tags. Bids are open for a week and purchases are made online, although the live auction still takes place and often there are extremely high last minute bids, usually by family members, although strict confidentiality is observed.

Purchases are obliged to display a "sold" tag for 30 days after a transaction is finalised.

[crimson-and-clover-1717]

I mean, this is Stockholm Syndrome, surely.

[shadowsofcontrol]

“You’re still not over it? It’s been months/years.” Healing from abuse isn’t something you can put on a timeline. Every survivor’s journey is different, and many carry the scars of trauma long after leaving the relationship. Comments like this dismiss the complexity of healing, making victims feel like they should ‘hurry up’ and get over it. Instead, offer patience and understanding. Healing takes time.