It’s been two weeks since we swapped bodies. When you first suggested it I thought it was the sexiest thing imaginable. I jerked off regularly to the pictures you posted online. The idea of being in full control of your body was just too hot to pass up. My brain ran wild with possibilities. The swap was supposed to be a one-day thing, twenty four hours in each other’s bodies. It only got complicated when we tried to swap back and nothing happened. Apparently swapability can be disrupted by unprotected sex. You can’t swap with someone else’s sperm inside you, and you can’t swap if you’re pregnant. I hadn’t been aware of either of those things two weeks ago. I’d been more focused on experiencing my single day as a woman, and one of the things I was most curious about was sex. In retrospect that had been a terrible idea. The guy I hooked up with was awful in bed, he shot his load after two pumps and promptly fell asleep. As underwhelming as it had been, it was enough to lock me into this body, at least for a few days. I really hoped I wasn’t pregnant, but you reassured me it would be okay. You helped me draft letters explaining a medical leave of absence, and bought me a ticket to come stay with you until we could get everything sorted out. Traveling in your body had been my first real taste of what was to come. I tried to dress modestly, but I could feel eyes on me all the same. Guys looking away as soon as I glanced in their direction, and others who brazenly stared on anyway. I stopped for like ten seconds to check the itinerary on my phone and someone grabbed my ass. With all the people shuffling by I couldn’t even tell who it was. That wasn’t the last time I was groped on the trip either. At first I tried to give people the benefit of the doubt; I was now piloting a fat butt, and it did seem prone to getting in the way. I wasn’t used to having so much junk in my trunk. But at a certain point patterns emerged in the ‘accidental’ contact. I was being casually molested. I fell asleep on the flight, and when I woke up the guy next to me had his phone pointed at me. He denied he was taking pictures, but I had to take his word for it. I went to the bathroom and was confronted with the beauty in the mirror. It almost made me cry. I saw a woman I would love to watch sleeping next to me, and that woman was me. How could I blame that guy if he was taking pictures? It was hard not to think about how this was all my fault. I was trapped in this body because of the sperm still swimming inside me, sperm I had invited in. Every creepy interaction and gross exploitation I’d experienced in this body could have been avoided by just keeping my legs together for one day. I thought things would improve when I got to your place. You were so happy to see me at the airport. I was happy to see my old body, though when we embraced it really drove home how much smaller I’d become. Your new body enveloped me in firm arms and lifted me right off the ground in a twirl. You picked me up like it was effortless, because to you it was. Things did not improve. You let me haul all the luggage, laughing at how much trouble it gave me. You just leered at my body as I strained, saying how it made my legs look good to flex like that, and to try bending over more. As much as it irritated me, hearing you say out loud what I knew everyone had been thinking was having an effect on me. Part way through you informing me (at a volume entirely too loud for such a public place) that my ass was a boner factory, I realized all of it was making me wet. Every new gross, awkward comment about my body only made it worse. By the time we got to the car I was practically panting. I could tell by the look in your eye that you knew exactly what you’d been doing. You kept talking about my body, noting my slender waist and girlish shoulders. You talked about how you didn’t expect your own body to make you so aroused, and I completely understood. When you unzipped your pants to ‘give your dick some room’, I couldn’t stop looking at it. The first of many blowjobs I’ve given you happened before we even got to the house. I unbuckled my seatbelt to put my head in your lap on the drive home. All you had to do was ask and I did my best to please you. It felt so strange to suck my own cock, but it also felt right in this body. I could feel my arousal guiding me in new directions. The hornier you made me, the more I fantasized about being used. Making you cum made my whole body buzz. I was so excited for you to take me to the bedroom when we got home, but your interest in sex seemed to pass with your orgasm. When we got to the house all you wanted to do was dress me up, so I had to move all the luggage again, and prepare the closet. That was nearly two weeks ago. Every day you tell me what to wear, tell me what to do, and have me suck your dick. I’ve gone outside the house a couple times, but every interaction makes me feel dirty and awkward. It doesn’t help that you dress me so attractively. More than once I’ve caught myself checking out my own body. I know why people look, I look too. I stare at my curves and my mind recalls all the perverted thoughts I’d had looking at pictures before the swap. When men look at me I see the same thoughts run through their minds, it’s written all over their faces. You haven’t given me clothes yet this morning. We’re in the bathroom and you’re making me take a pregnancy test. I’m wearing a blindfold because you said getting to know the results should be a reward. You’re standing between my knees, so I can’t close my legs; you’ve got my thumbs held above my head in your iron grip, so I can’t use my arms. I’ve given up pulling against your grasp, even if I had the strength, I’d sooner lift myself off the toilet than bend your arm. I can sense you positioning something between my legs. “Alright, pee.” You tell me. I try to do it, but the situation is so unnerving I can’t make it start. I try to relax my bladder, but the lack of results only makes me more nervous. You lift my thumbs a little higher and it startles me out of my head. A wave of embarrassment washes over me as I pee on the test for you. I’m almost glad I can’t see what’s going on. The vision of you leering at me right now would be haunting. I hear you place the test on the sink, then I feel you wipe me dry. “What’s it say?” I ask, even though I’m sure you’re not going to tell me. I feel like I already know anyway, if it was negative we would have swapped back by now. “It takes a couple minutes for results.” You say, without releasing my arms. I’m starting to feel pins and needles from having them over my head. “In the meantime, how about an anatomy test?” You’d done this on one of our first nights together. I thought you were going to finger me or something, but you made me identify all the parts of my vulva. I was proud of how much I’d got right, but you’d been holding a mirror to help me see. It was harder than expected with the blindfold. “We’ll start with an easy one. What’s this?” You ask me. I feel one of your thick fingers push into me. I have to fight an impulse to try and close my legs, it would only make you laugh to see me struggle. “My clit.” I say haltingly, your finger has started to move in little patterns. “Oh, is that what it’s called?” You rub a little faster. “What’s the proper name?” “Clitoris.” I say. It sounds so clinical. With your question answered you cease the rubbing and move your finger lower. “What about this?” You ask, pinching one of my pussy lips. “Labia.” I say, eager for you to let go. “Inner or outer?” You ask, and I honestly have to guess. I must have guessed right, because your fingers move again. “How about this right here?” You ask. Your touch is so light, but it still makes me want to squirm. “My pee hole.” I say uncomfortably. You don’t need to tell me to use the clinical word this time, you just apply a little pressure and I gasp out “urethra”. I hate how you hold me to these arbitrary standards. You knew what I meant. “Good girl.” You tell me, and somehow it makes me feel worse. “I know you’ll get this next one right, it’s why you’re sitting here in the first place.” I feel your finger push against the opening of my vagina. “Vagina.” I say, eager to complete the test. “Not so fast. This is just your opening.” You wiggle your finger for a bit, spreading my wetness around. “This is your vagina.” You tell me as you sink your finger deep inside me. My body clenches in shock at the sudden penetration, but your finger has no problem sliding through me. You pull your finger out and start to laugh at me. I try to wait it out, but you just keep laughing harder. “What is it?” I ask eventually. “Well, forget about the test, I’ll have to find other ways to tease you.” You say cryptically, still laughing. “What do you mean?” I still can’t see anything and I have no idea what’s going on. Suddenly you release my thumbs and pull off the blindfold. The bright light of the bathroom makes me squint. “What’s this?” You ask me, holding your finger right in my face. There’s some sort of disgusting red blob stuck to it, like what comes out after a nosebleed. I have no idea what it is, but looking at it makes me want to throw up. “What is that!? Did you put that inside me?” I ask horrified, which only makes you laugh harder. “No you dumb bitch, that’s where it came from.” You tell me, wiping your finger off on my thigh. “You’re on your period.” I’m stunned and confused. “Then why haven’t we swapped back?” “Because I’ve been cumming in your mouth every day, you’ve got my little swimmers living under your tongue.” You say casually. “You’ve been doing this on purpose?” Somehow this feels worse than being pregnant. I’m not just stuck until I can get some mifepristone, I’m stuck until you decide to stop inseminating me. Which doesn’t seem likely any time soon. You only seem to be getting more obsessed with using me. “I wasn’t the one swallowing. You’ve been doing this on purpose.” You say flatly. I feel so hollow and used. Would you keep me in this body for the rest of my life? “How long will you keep me like this?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady. Since taking possession of your body I’d found myself crying much more easily. Not in a cathartic emotional way, just like a reaction, especially when you were being harsh. It was like this body wouldn’t let me stand up for myself. “Until I get bored of cumming inside you.” You look thoughtful for a bit. “So probably forever.” You look down at the mess you left on my thigh and add: “At least until menopause, I think I’m over having a period.” A cold shiver ran down my spine. I could be like this for the next thirty years, bleeding through my pussy every month. It was like a mortgage, paid in blood, for the privilege of being breedable. The first day of my period was worse than I had imagined. It felt like I was dying, or at least sick with something awful; the cramps kept going until I was crying for them to stop. You make sure to remind me I’m perfectly healthy, you say it could be a bad sign if I wasn’t going through this, I should be happy to have such a regular cycle. You don’t reduce my chores one bit, if anything it feels like you’re being harder on me. You put me in a bunnysuit to clean the house, and make fun of me when you can see my tampon string. You take a pic before you let me know it’s sticking out, and post it somewhere online. I can hear you chuckling about it for hours, every time you check your phone. The waist of the bunnysuit is absurdly high, coming up to my navel, which puts my wide hips on full display. It has a thong back, which lets my ass cheeks hang out, but digs into me every time I bend over; it makes loading the dishwasher torture. You just take more pictures. I feel like ten pounds of garbage in a five bag, my clothes squeezing in from every direction. My head hurts, and all the chores are making me exhausted. The way I’m dressed makes it impossible to forget whose body I’m in. Every reflection or glance down shows me the long legs and pinched waist of my dream girl, dressed to show off every curve. Over the past two weeks I’ve started to resent my arousal. In my old body I loved it, I would look at sexy things just to feel the rush of an erection, something I could tell you also enjoyed in my body. But since the switch I hadn’t experienced a single orgasm. Making myself wet was fun, and unavoidable with the way you dressed me, but it filled me with a yearning for something I was unable to satisfy. I’d tried touching myself, and it certainly had an effect. I got myself more turned on than I’d known was possible. It was like experiencing color after only knowing black and white. It wasn’t just between my legs, I could get so horny my entire body became touch-hungry and warm. But no matter how long I touched myself, I couldn’t reach climax. One time as a teenager I’d tried to masturbate by only touching the head of my penis. It felt great, but I didn’t cum, it was like a shepherd's tune: getting higher and higher without ever reaching the next octave. Masturbating in this body was like that tune in stereo surround sound; I could feel it stronger than ever, but I still couldn’t cum. I knew it was a mental block. I could feel it creep in as soon as I started touching my pussy. Looking at my body felt about the same, in many ways it was even better; I could pose however I wanted, give in to every sick curiosity, and feel the sensations of the moment. But once my attention moved between my legs everything became twisted. The first time I saw my pussy had been such a rush. I’d dreamed about it for so long, the ultimate destination of nearly all my sexual fantasies. Pulling aside my panties and looking at your most intimate parts got me hotter than I’d ever been in my life. But that’s where it went wrong. The next part of the fantasies involved penetration, sinking into you, feeling your body envelop my cock. But this body didn’t have a cock, and the same view that revealed your pussy made its absence impossible to deny. My sexual appendage had been replaced with an orifice. I had nothing to penetrate with; at least nothing that could get me off. If my arousal was riding a horse, this was the part where I got bucked off. Touching the reality of my vagina, rubbing my clit, it felt incredible, but it also made it impossible to ignore the dissonance between my fantasies and reality. I couldn’t fuck my crush anymore. I had endless access to her body, but no way to satisfy my lust. I was dying of thirst at sea. After hours of drudgery I take a break to use the bathroom. Peeling myself out of the bunnysuit and rolling down my pantyhose is a whole ordeal. I almost worry I won’t make it, I’m practically dancing by the time I sit down. In my old body I could have had my dick out of my zipper before I’d crossed the room. When I turn around I can see the gorgeous mostly-naked woman sitting on the toilet in the mirror looking miserable. Before I’m finished you barge in on me. Even though you’d just seen me naked earlier that day, I feel overexposed sitting on the toilet with my clothes around my knees. I cover my chest with my arms, which only seems to make you more excited. “Oh look, you’ve already got a woman’s reflexes.” You tease me. “What do you want?” I ask. I was so tired, I had hoped I’d at least get a break to pee. “Gotta check your tampon, it can make you sick if you leave it in too long.” You inform me, gesturing for me to spread my legs. It felt pointless to resist, and I didn’t want to get sick, so I spread my legs as far as I could without letting the bunnysuit touch the floor. You reach between my legs and give a little tug on the string dangling out of me. I feel something shift uncomfortably inside. “Yep, you gotta change that. Here.” You hand me the tampon box. I stare at it for a bit. You had put the first one in for me, but you had prepared it out of sight and quickly forced it in. I had needed to get breakfast started, there was no time to teach me how to do it myself. I thought you’d at least give advice this time, or maybe show me how it’s done, but you just read me your favorite comments from that picture you’d posted, and told me how hilarious it looked as I struggled. “I thought she said this relationship was ‘no strings attached’!” You read the comment like a standup comedian, but you’re the only one laughing at it. “Time to pull her rip-cord.” Another one reads. “If you pull and let go she says: I’m Trashy Kathy.” I’m struggling to line up the applicator, but it doesn’t want to go in. The more I try to push and prod, the less it feels like this is the right thing to do. I just want to leave my pussy alone, but I need to get the tampon in place before I can stop. “Nothing wrong with fucking a girl on her period.” You read another comment before adding: “Oh, and there’s a reply: Hard disagree, keep that nasty ass away from me.” I try to ignore what you’re saying and focus on the task at hand, but end up failing at both. “What do you think?” You ask directly, making it even more difficult to ignore you. “Do you like fucking girls on their period?” I look up at you, at your smug grinning face, at the phone that’s probably been taking a video this whole time, at the reflection of my tired girly body in the mirror. I didn’t want to put in the tampon, I didn’t want to have a period, I didn’t want this crampy pussy that was incapable of fucking a girl regardless of her cycle. I could tell you wanted an answer, so I say what I would have before the swap. “Yeah, actually I think it’s hot.” I try to say it with a disarming confidence, and I can tell it nearly works, but you quickly turn it back against me. “Mmm, yeah, I can feel it. This body is into that.” You grab at the front of your pants to reposition your growing erection. Seeing your bulge makes me disgusted, and horny, and disgusted at myself for feeling horny. You take the loaded applicator from my hands and toss it in the trash. “Forget about the tampon, you can work up to that. Just use a pad for today.” “Okay.” I feel bad that I wasted a tampon failing to take care of myself, but it was a massive relief to be done with it. “Where are the pads?” I ask. You laugh at me. “This is your house, how should I know? I found the tampons under the sink.” “My ex left those here.” I try to explain. “Did your ex use pads?” You ask. “I’m not sure.” I admit. “Some boyfriend you were.” You grab a washcloth from the shelf. “Here, put this in your underwear. The bunnysuit should hold it in place.” It felt so weird and wrong. The washcloth was rough and dry against me. But at this point I was thankful for anything that could let me get on with my life. Somehow I finish all the housework and still manage to log a few hours of programming to pay the bills. You had used my body to attend a few online meetings, but I was still the one doing all the coding; you just showed off the results, accepted the praise, and cashed the checks. You spent most of the time while I was busy, when you weren’t harassing me, in front of the television, catching up on anime and playing video games. Today though you seemed particularly preoccupied. You left the house while I was working and came back hours later with a shopping bag. A naive hopeful part of me assumed you got me some actual pads. I finish the dishes from dinner and we start getting ready for bed. While brushing our teeth you make fun of the bulge the washcloth makes in my bunnysuit. You had made me wear this confining suit all day, I was looking forward to taking it off soon. You’d already dressed down to a pair of boxers. You pull them tight and compare our bulges; even stuffed with a washcloth mine was obviously smaller. You enter the bedroom behind me, and as soon as we've passed the doorway your hands are on me. I try to turn around, but you won’t let me. You keep my hips forward with one hand, while the other moves up between my breasts to hold my head forward by my jaw. I feet your lower hand roam my body as you walk me further into the room, shutting the door behind us. I can feel your touch easily through the bunnysuit, and your hands feel familiar with the shape of this body. Your fingers sink into my ass as you squeeze almost too hard, but just right. “No-” is all I can get out before the hand holding my jaw moves over my mouth, clamping it shut. You force me to my knees and press my face into the carpet. I hear rustling from the shopping bag somewhere behind me. The next thing I know you’re pulling rope around me. You bind my slender arms together behind my back and tie the rope around my chest, wrapping it around my neck and then down under my breasts, pulling tight so the flesh of my tits was pushed out between the ropes, and the rope encircles my midsection. Once my arms are immobilized you leave my top half face down on the carpet to tie up my legs. “Why are you doing this?” I ask desperately as you bind my ankles to my thighs. “Because your body makes me horny.” You tell me. Then you cinch the rope so tight it makes my knee hurt. “Now stop talking or I’ll tighten more.” Once I’m all tied up you push me into position. You put me on my knees with my ass in the air and my face and chest pressed into the floor. The bunnysuit is digging deep into my butt crack, squeezing the damp and disgusting washcloth hard into my crotch, but there’s nothing I can do. I’ve almost gathered enough courage to say something when I hear the familiar sound of my pocket knife opening. I try to see what you’re doing, but in the position you’ve put me I can barely see around my own ass. It looks like you’re coming at my rear end with the blade. I feel you grab my bunnysuit by the thong, pulling it even tighter for a moment, before slicing it loose. The pressure releases as the front of the suit snaps forward to where the rope wraps my waist. I feel something leak out of me as the rag is loosened. Next you grab a handful of my pantyhose and make another slice with the knife, cutting a wide gash to expose my genitals. I want to scream, but I’m too afraid of what you might do with the blade in your hands. You pull the washcloth out from between my legs and toss it onto the floor next to my face. “See what you did?” You ask me. I almost don’t answer out of fear of saying something wrong. I feel hot tears roll down my face. “I’m sorry.” I say eventually, when I couldn’t think of anything better. “Do you know why you’re bleeding?” You demand an answer. “Because I’m a girl.” I say it almost like a question. I didn’t know what you wanted from me. “It’s because you didn’t get pregnant. Your body is going to keep doing this every month until that changes.” I feel your hands on me again, reaching through the hole you cut in my pantyhose to knead the bare flesh of my ass. “Now I’m going to do my best to help you with that.” You reassure me mockingly. “It’s pretty difficult to get pregnant on your period, so we’re gonna need to get my cum all the way up there.” I can hear you unbuckling your pants, but my ass still blocks most of my view. I strain against the ropes, but there’s nothing I can do, I can barely wiggle my limbs. I feel your dick press into me through the hole in my pantyhose. You push the head along the outside of my vulva, using your cock like a giant finger to play with me. I can feel it spreading around the sloppy mess I’d made on the rag. You reposition again, and your dick head slides into place just over my vaginal opening. My stomach clenches as the inevitability of my rape becomes clear. With a little pressure from your hips, your cock begins to slide into me. I open my mouth in a silent cry as fresh tears stream my cheeks. I’m trying to do everything I can to push your dick out of me, but it keeps moving deeper. Despite my fear and horror at the situation, I’m as wet as I’ve ever been; my vagina’s slick walls let you all the way in. “Jesus Christ” I hear you groan as you feel pussy on your cock for the first time. You buck into me a few times to get a good sense for it. “And I thought your mouth felt good.” You say, pumping a bit more. You aren’t keeping up a rhythm, just sort of reveling in the sensation of fucking me. Tied up and pinned to the floor there’s nothing for me to do but dwell on the sensations of you raping me through my ruined clothes. I feel like such an idiot. All my life I’d fantasized about experiencing sex as a woman, but the reality was nothing like I’d dreamed. I’d traded away my body, my manhood, my life, for the opportunity to be treated like your fleshlight. Your hands grip my hips as you start fucking me in earnest. In spite of everything, I feel my arousal continue to climb. After a while it actually starts to feel good, the way your dick fills me up. A fluttery horny feeling is bubbling through me. Even the feeling of my period-sore nipples jostling against the carpet from your pounding starts to feel stimulating. You’re fucking me harder now, I can feel your balls slap against my vulva. With each thrust my ass gets flattened against your hips, then jiggles back into shape on the backstroke. I have to fight back an urge to moan, I don’t want you to know how much I love what you’re doing to me. After weeks of horny anorgasmia your cock is giving me my first ray of hope. The pitch goes higher and higher, but I’m still not reaching climax. In my old body I would have cum already, but you’re pushing me into uncharted lands, heights of arousal previously inaccessible. “Okay.” You say to get my attention. “Since you’ve been such a good bunny today, I’m going to give you a reward. Just know, I’m getting pretty close, if you cum I won’t be able to hold back, you’ll be locking yourself into that body even longer.” As soon as you’re done talking you lean over me a bit, snaking a hand over my hips and down between my legs. Without missing a thrust, you begin fingering my clit while you fuck me. I can feel my body tense up, I’ve lost all control, with how you’re touching me I’m going to cum whether I want to or not. The mental block hasn’t gone away, but it can’t stop me now. When the horse bucks this time I start flying. You’ve taken control, I’m just your toy, and you’ve decided it’s time for me to cum. For the first time since the swap my pussy doesn’t feel like a foreign thing. With my legs and arms bound, and my face pressed to the floor, my pussy is all that I am. I’ve become my vagina, that’s the part of me that matters now, the part you’re fucking, the part that wants this to happen. I open my mouth and babble profanities in your sweet girlish voice, my pitch undulating with the rhythm of your penetration. “Fuck, fuck, yes, fuck my cunt.” You pull back and slap me hard on the bottom, I’m certain I can feel a red handprint swelling up. “Shut up.” You grunt at me. I bite my lip to keep quiet, but I can’t help a few moans slipping out. Your finger moves even faster on my clit, and I can feel your dick tense up. You’re about to cum in me whether I finish or not. I know exactly what you’re feeling, I can almost feel a phantom dick of my own readying to pump itself dry in a massive orgasm. What finally pushes me over the edge isn’t sympathetic pleasure, or your finger madly rubbing my clit, it’s the realization that I’m being impregnated. You aren’t just fucking me for fun; even if I don’t get pregnant tonight, you’re not going to stop. You’re going to rape a baby into me, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m your baby maker, your sex toy, your play thing.  At that moment I wasn’t a man at all, I fully accepted my new body’s destiny, my place in your world. My orgasm crests hardly a second before yours. We both grunt and mash against one another as passion grips us. My arms and legs strain involuntarily against the ropes as my body quivers. My pussy spasms around your cock as you ejaculate, pulling your cum deep into my reproductive system. Maybe it was the novelty of your body, or the two weeks of agonizing denial, but the experience in that moment was unlike anything else in my entire life. There’s a fullness to the orgasm I’d never thought possible. My body comes alive in a tingling crescendo of ecstasy. I’m panting to catch my breath. Even the wretched smell of the rag by my face has ceased to bother me. You get off my back and I feel a horny pang of emptiness where your dick had been. Some of your cum leaks out and I shiver in delight as it runs over my clit. I can hear you catching your breath behind me. As exhausted as I was by the encounter, you had been the one thrusting the entire time. You stand up and look down at me, still tied up on the bedroom floor. “Fuck, you’re a great lay, but you made my dick look like a crime scene.” You say, gesturing at your crotch. I struggle to my knees and turn around. I can’t stand with my legs bound, but I manage to get into a kneeling position. Your dick looks even worse than I’d imagined. The blood has gotten into your pubic hair and on your scrotum. I can’t see much looking between my legs, but I can tell it’s all over my pussy too. “Well…” You say, looking at me expectantly. I look up at you with a tired exhilaration. The top of my bunnysuit is folded under the rope, exposing my tits; the bottom is sliced apart, hanging like a too-small loincloth. My entire body is humming with the afterglow of my first orgasm in weeks, and the most powerful of my entire life. I can’t help it when a little smile crosses my face. I’m not sure what you want, but I want to give it to you. “Clean up your mess.” You command me, gesturing again to your blood soaked cock. The smile vanishes from my face. You can’t be serious. You don’t move any closer, so I hobble on my knees to you. Your dick has gone entirely soft, you won’t be getting hard again for a bit. I lean in to give it a kiss, but the smell makes me gag and I have to back off. I take a deep breath and steady my resolve. As disgusting as it is, it’s not going to kill me, it came from my body, I can do this. I’ve eaten girls out while they were on their period, but this felt different. Your dick was already getting crusty with dried fluids. I look up at you and try not to think about what I’m putting in my mouth. It doesn’t matter what I want, I need to clean you off. I gag again as your dick crosses my lips, but I keep my composure this time. I close my lips around you and begin to suck. The taste is even worse than I’d prepared for, but I’m not letting it break me. I channel my disgust back into the task in front of me, licking and sucking the skin of your dick clean. When that’s done I move down to your balls, gently lapping up all the mess. During and between my ministrations I look up at you. I look into your eyes while cleaning you off, telling you with my face who I’m doing this for. It occurs to me that I’m still very horny; in my previous body that would be unthinkable after an orgasm like that, but in your body it only seemed to move me into a new headspace. I no longer felt the unfulfilled yearning of before, but I was still buzzing with a wet excitement. It makes me squeeze my thighs together while I clean you, wiggling my butt side to side. Against all my expectations I feel your cock begin to swell against my face. I move back up to it, wrapping my mouth around your dick and coaxing it fuller. I gaze up in wonder as you inflate in my mouth. I can see a hunger in your eyes for your former body. I try to stick my ass out further for you to admire. Making you hard again so soon has me dizzy with self satisfaction, I feel like the sexiest slut in the world at that moment. When it feels like you’re nearly at your full size I pop your dick out of my mouth and take a chance. “Can I ride you?” I ask as sweetly as I can. I really hope you aren’t going to be upset with me. I just want to try it, feeling you get hard on my tongue has reignited a yearning inside me. You stare down at me for a moment. I try to pose as attractively as I can in my tattered outfit. My pussy is twitching with anticipation and desire. “I’m just going to make you clean me off again.” You warn. “That’s alright. It’s worth it.” I say, nuzzling my face into your crotch. Something inside me broke while you were fucking me. Not physically, but in my mind. I still didn’t feel right in this body, acting this way, but it’s what I want now more than anything. It made me feel so fucking amazing. You bend down and pick me up by the armpits. I wrap my knees around you for support, I still can’t use my arms due to the rope. You fall backwards onto the bed with me in your arms, and I arch my back to balance on your midsection. I can feel your dick pushing up behind me, brushing my ass cheeks. I try to wiggle backwards, but I only succeed in grinding into you a bit. You grab my ass with both hands and lift me into position, helping to keep the shreds of the bunnysuit from getting caught between us. Your cock slips into place as you lower me onto it. I’m so tight from that last orgasm, and you’re not fully hard, but you still manage to push into me a couple inches. I grind my hips happily into you, thrilled by the sensation of your dick inside me. It’s hard to control my movement with my limbs restrained, but I can still hop with my knees, and I find a rhythm that works for me. My breath comes faster as I feel you get harder still. On one of my next bounces I feel you slip all the way into me. Once again hard enough to overcome the pressure, and coated in my fluids, your cock has no problem extending its full length in my vagina. I hunch over a bit, rocking slowly on it. I feel like I can sense it reaching to the back, like it’s filling every inch. “Do the thing with my clit.” I tell you breathlessly, reveling in the moment. I see you hesitate, unsure about rewarding me again. I keep bouncing on you, looking down with my best puppy dog eyes. You reach out your hand and start playing with my clit. I bounce faster, gasping with joy. You don’t just play with my clit either. With me on top your hands are free to explore my figure, squeeze my rope-bound titties, and play with my butt and thighs. You always keep at least one finger down there though, moving in double time with my bounces. We can both tell you aren’t going to cum again, you can barely keep up your erection, but you’re plenty hard to give me another orgasm. This time is nearly as good as the last. My pussy clenches so hard it squeezes your dick right out of me. I gasp and moan as you bring me to the second greatest pleasure of my life within an hour of the first. In my final throes of passion I lose balance and collapse onto you. My breasts press into your chest, my chin rests on your shoulder. My entire body is soft and trembling against you. I snuggle up to you as best I can in my restraints. You wrap your arms around me, first in a hug, and then to work on untying the knots.