We didn’t waste time with small talk. Back at her place that same night, she pushed me down onto my knees right there in the hallway before I could even kick off my shoes. “You look like a man who knows how to eat pussy properly,” she whispered, hiking up her short black skirt. No panties underneath. Just her bare, already glistening cunt staring me in the face, lips swollen and inviting, that intoxicating musk hitting me like a drug. I leaned in, inhaling deeply, my nose brushing against her soft pubic hair. She grabbed the back of my head and pulled me in hard. “Start slow, but don’t you dare stop until I say so.”

My tongue traced her outer lips first, tasting the salty-sweet tang of her arousal. She was wet, dripping already, and I lapped it up like a starving man. Cunnilingus wasn’t just an act for me – it was my obsession, my addiction. I loved the way her clit would swell under my tongue, how her juices would coat my chin and drip down my neck. Elena moaned softly at first, then louder as I sucked her clit between my lips, flicking it rapidly. But she was a sadomasochist at heart, and she wanted more than pleasure. She wanted control. Pain mixed with ecstasy. Power over my desperation.

“Harder,” she commanded, grinding her hips forward so my face was buried completely in her cunt. I could barely breathe, but that only made my cock strain painfully against my jeans. I tongued her deeper, pushing inside her tight hole, fucking her with my mouth while my nose rubbed her clit. She reached down and pinched my nipples hard, twisting them until I groaned into her pussy. The vibration made her laugh cruelly. “That’s it, worship it. This is your place – on your knees, face deep in my cunt.”

That night set the tone for everything that followed. Over the next weeks, our encounters became more intense, more depraved. Elena introduced me fully to the world of sadomasochism intertwined with my cunnilingus fetish. She loved making me suffer while I pleasured her. She’d tie my hands behind my back with rough rope that bit into my wrists, leaving red marks for days. Then she’d straddle my face for hours, smothering me with her wet pussy, riding my tongue like a dildo while she whipped my chest with a leather flogger. Every time I gasped for air, she’d slap my face with her soaked cunt, smearing her juices across my cheeks.

“Clean me properly,” she’d hiss, lowering herself again. I’d dive back in, licking every fold, sucking on her labia, drinking down her cream. The taste was addictive – musky, tangy, slightly bitter when she was really worked up. My jaw would ache after the first hour, my tongue numb, but I kept going because the sound of her moaning, the way her thighs trembled around my head, was worth every bit of discomfort. She called it cuning therapy for her, but it was pure torment for me. My cock leaked precum constantly, begging for relief that rarely came.

One weekend she took it further. We went to her private playroom, a converted basement filled with toys and restraints. She had me strip naked and kneel on the cold concrete floor. Elena wore nothing but thigh-high leather boots and a harness that framed her perfect tits. She cuffed my ankles to a spreader bar, forcing my legs wide open, then chained my collar to a ring on the floor so my face was tilted upward. “Tonight you’re my cuning chair,” she said, her voice dripping with dominance. She positioned herself above me, her dripping pussy hovering just out of reach. I strained my neck, tongue extended desperately, but she teased me, lowering just enough for me to taste her before pulling away.

The sadomasochism kicked in when she finally sat down fully. She clamped my nipples with vicious metal clips connected by a chain. Every time she rocked her hips, the chain pulled tight, sending sharp pain shooting through my chest. I whimpered into her cunt but kept licking, swirling my tongue around her clit in tight circles the way she liked. She reached back and stroked my aching cock slowly, edging me mercilessly while grinding harder. “Don’t you dare cum,” she warned. “Your orgasms are irrelevant. This is about my pleasure, your devotion to my pussy.”

Her juices flowed freely now, coating my entire face. I swallowed what I could, the rest running down my throat and chest. I probed deeper with my tongue, fucking her hole while sucking her clit. Elena’s breaths grew ragged. She grabbed my hair and fucked my face violently, her ass cheeks slapping against my forehead. The pain from the nipple clamps mixed with the humiliation of being used as a human sex toy pushed me into subspace. I was lost in the taste, the smell, the wet sounds of my mouth devouring her cunt. When she finally came, it was explosive – her thighs locked around my head like a vice, squirting hot fluid all over my face as she screamed in ecstasy.

But she wasn’t done. Sadomasochists like Elena never are. She stood up, her legs shaky, and looked down at my drenched, pathetic form. “Look at you, covered in my cunt juice like a good little pervert.” She kicked my balls lightly with her boot, making me gasp. Then she unlocked the spreader bar and ordered me onto the bondage table. On my back, wrists and ankles secured, she climbed on top in a sixty-nine position but with a twist. Instead of sucking me, she lowered her asshole onto my mouth while her pussy rested on my nose. “Rim me while you breathe my cunt,” she demanded.

I obeyed, my tongue circling her tight puckered hole, tasting the earthy flavor while inhaling her pussy scent. She ground down, smothering me completely. My cock throbbed untouched as she teased it with her fingers, occasionally slapping it hard. The combination of cunnilingus, anal worship, and pain play had me floating. Hours passed like that – her switching between sitting on my face, making me lick her from clit to ass, and using various toys on herself while I watched helplessly. She’d insert a thick dildo into her pussy right above my face, fucking herself until she gushed, then make me clean the toy with my mouth before returning to direct cuning.

Our relationship deepened into something beautifully filthy. Elena introduced me to other elements of sadomasochism that amplified my fetish. Hot wax dripped onto my thighs while I ate her out on the kitchen counter. Ice cubes pushed inside her cunt, melting as I sucked them out mixed with her cream. She loved sensory deprivation too – blindfolding me so all I could focus on was the taste and texture of her pussy. Sometimes she’d not shower for a full day just to make her cunt extra ripe and pungent for my tongue. I craved that dirty, natural flavor, the way it made me feel like a depraved animal.

One particularly intense night, she invited a female friend over, another dominant sadomasochist named Sophia. I was nervous but insanely aroused. They made me kneel naked in the living room while they sipped wine and discussed me like I was furniture. “He has an incredible cunnilingus fetish,” Elena bragged. “Hours without complaint.” Sophia smiled wickedly and lifted her skirt. “Let’s test him.” Soon both women were taking turns on my face. Elena sat on my cock, not letting me penetrate her but grinding her wet lips along my shaft while Sophia smothered me with her thicker, hairier pussy. The dual scents, the weight of two women using me, the constant commands to “lick deeper, suck harder, swallow it all” drove me wild.

I lapped at Sophia’s cunt with the same devotion, noting how different she tasted – earthier, more savory. My tongue worked her clit until she flooded my mouth. Elena meanwhile edged my cock mercilessly, squeezing the base whenever I got close. “No release for you tonight,” she laughed. The sadomasochistic denial was exquisite torture. When they both came, they left me there, face sticky and swollen, cock purple and leaking, while they kissed and fingered each other on the couch above me.

The pain play evolved too. She pierced my nipples so she could attach weights that tugged painfully every time she rode my face. Ball weights hung from my sack during long cuning marathons, the constant pull reminding me of my submission. She’d cane my ass while I sucked her, each strike making me moan into her folds. The vibrations always pushed her over the edge faster. “My perfect cuning slut,” she’d coo after cumming, patting my soaked head.

I learned every inch of her body with my mouth. The way her inner labia swelled when she was close. How her asshole would pucker when I rimmed it during orgasm. The different textures – smooth shaved days versus when she let it grow a little stubble that scratched my lips deliciously. I drank her squirt, her piss on command during golden showers mixed with cunnilingus. Yes, it got that dirty. She’d stand over me in the shower, piss cascading over my face while I tried to catch it in my mouth and then dive back into licking her clean.

Sadomasochism wasn’t just physical. She broke me mentally too. Making me confess my deepest perversions while my face was buried in her cunt. “Tell me how much you love being my pussy cleaner,” she’d demand, cutting off my air until I answered. I’d mumble desperately into her wetness: “I love it, I need your cunt more than air, use me as your toilet, your toy, anything.” The humiliation fueled my arousal. My cock would twitch untouched as I admitted I got hard just thinking about the taste of her unwashed pussy after a long day.

There were tender moments too, strangely enough. After particularly brutal sessions where my jaw felt dislocated and my face was raw, she’d pull me up, kiss me deeply, tasting herself on my lips, and whisper how proud she was of her devoted cuning slave. Those moments of affection after the sadomasochistic storm made the whole dynamic addictive. I belonged to her pussy. It owned me.

Over months, our play expanded to public risks. She’d wear remote vibrators to dinner and make me kneel in the car afterward to service her. One time in a dark movie theater, she draped her coat over my lap and had me finger and then discreetly eat her under the seats. The thrill of almost getting caught heightened everything. Back home the real sadomasochism resumed – flogging, clamping, prolonged face-sitting until I nearly passed out from lack of oxygen and overwhelming pussy aroma.

I explored my own limits through her. How long could I lick without stopping? Three hours became four. Five on a good night. My tongue developed incredible stamina, strong and flexible from constant use. She rewarded me occasionally with ruined orgasms – stroking me furiously while I licked her to climax, then stopping the moment I started cumming so it dribbled uselessly onto my stomach. The denial kept me desperate, eager to please.

Elena taught me that true cunnilingus fetishism goes beyond technique. It’s mindset. Total surrender. Finding joy in her pleasure above all else. The way her body responds – the subtle clenches, the flood of wetness, the involuntary shudders – became my world. I studied her like a map, learning exactly how to build her up slowly then crash her into orgasm after orgasm.

One epic weekend we locked ourselves in a cabin in the woods. No interruptions. She brought all her gear. For two full days I was her full-time cuning slave. Chained to the bed, released only to use the bathroom or fetch her drinks. Otherwise, my face was her seat. She read books while sitting on me, occasionally shifting to let me breathe before smothering again. We incorporated temperature play – hot tea sipped then her warm mouth on my cock contrasted with ice on her clit for me to warm with my tongue. The contrasts drove her wild.

By the end of that weekend I was exhausted, dehydrated, voice hoarse from moaning into her cunt, but utterly fulfilled. Covered in dried juices, bite marks on my shoulders from when she came particularly hard, ass striped from caning. She untied me finally and let me fuck her properly for the first time in weeks. But even then, she made me pull out and finish with my mouth, cleaning my own cum from her well-fucked pussy. The ultimate act of devotion.

This is my life now. A dedicated practitioner of extreme cunnilingus within a sadomasochistic relationship that fulfills every dirty craving I have. The constant ache in my jaw, the bruises, the denied orgasms – they all pale compared to the bliss of serving her cunt. If you’re reading this and share even a fraction of this fetish, understand that it’s not just licking pussy. It’s worship. It’s suffering for her pleasure. It’s letting go completely and becoming nothing but a warm, eager tongue for her sadistic delights.

Elena owns my mouth. My face is her property. And every single day I crave more – more smothering, more pain, more of her delicious, dripping cunt grinding against me until nothing else matters. This is my truth, my filthy confession. The cuning life chose me, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The post Buried in Her Cunt: My Life as a Sadomasochistic Cuning Slave first appeared on Fetish Stories.