Renata’s Secret Session in Front of the Screen

Renata opened her favorite porn site and let the screen fill itself. The day’s most popular videos appeared: mature women with huge asses, amateur couples promising impossible things, garish thumbnails repeating over and over. None of that interested her tonight. She had a very specific craving, and she knew exactly what it was called.

It was incredible how much tension she had accumulated during the day. She felt it everywhere, but especially in her clitoris, which tingled restlessly, demanding the attention she had been putting off since morning. Every time a dirty thought crossed her mind, she saved it for later. Now it was later, and her body was making her pay for it.

Before settling onto the bed, she stretched her arm up to the very top of the wardrobe and brought down her enormous dog-shaped stuffed animal. It was nearly a meter long, and she always kept it in plain sight, on the upper shelf, out of reach of any curious visitor and, in theory, of herself. She set it on the mattress and looked at herself for a second in the mirror facing the bed. She was wearing only an enormous black T-shirt that fell below her thighs and concealed almost her entire body.

She didn’t consider herself anything special and accepted that without drama. She didn’t have a flat stomach, her legs were thick, and her breasts barely filled a small bra. But her ass was another story: pert, round, voluptuous. It seemed to her that it even swelled a little more when she was horny, as she was at that precise moment. Rather than making her uncomfortable, the thought hurried her into choosing a video.

She adjusted her glasses, brushed a lock of short black hair aside, and typed her favorite words into the search bar: lesbian facesitting, followed by domination. The page filled with women sitting on the faces of smaller women, subduing them with the full weight of their bodies. She stared at the thumbnails and wondered which role she would like to occupy in a scene like that. She knew the answer perfectly well, but she enjoyed asking herself the question anyway.

The first video showed a small blonde woman lying on a wide bed, her head hanging over the edge, offered up. Renata clicked. The scene started too quickly for her taste: a brunette with generous curves immediately mounted the blonde’s face and smothered her between her buttocks, rocking back and forth while muffled, almost pleading moans could be heard. It didn’t last long and left her indifferent. That wasn’t enough for her. She liked the waiting, the buildup, feeling herself right on the edge before even beginning to touch herself.

As she searched for something else, she started thinking about what attracted her so much to those videos. She reached the same conclusion as always. What amused her, what truly turned her on, was watching a woman beg not to have someone sit on her, writhing beneath the body of someone more dominant. It aroused a strange mixture of excitement and mockery in her. When the submissive was pulled by the hair or had her face turned to force her to eat, Renata felt a heat rising inside her.

It wasn’t something she had ever discussed with anyone. In her daily life, she was the one who gave in, the one who asked permission, the one who lowered her voice when someone interrupted her. Perhaps that was why, alone in the half-light of her room, she needed the exact opposite. She needed to imagine herself in charge, with another person completely dependent on her whim. It was her secret, and she liked it that way.

She settled more comfortably against the headboard, the laptop resting on her knees and the light from the screen illuminating her face in the dark room. Her heart was beating a little faster than usual, that anticipation of hers that she almost enjoyed more than the ending. She skimmed through a couple of videos without finishing them, discarding anything that started too soon, until she found one that promised the pause she was looking for.

It would be fun to do it myself, she thought. Imagining herself rubbing her own sex over some stuck-up girl’s face while the girl complained or whimpered seemed like the perfect fantasy. Not out of cruelty, but because of the idea of absolute control: setting the pace, deciding when the other woman breathed and when she didn’t.

After a minute of scrolling, she found the right video. By then she was more than aroused, and she knew that as soon as the scene began, she wouldn’t be able to resist mounting the stuffed animal and rubbing herself against it. She pressed play.

A tall blonde with pronounced curves appeared on the screen, squeezed into a black lingerie set. She entered another girl’s room—the girl was also blonde, but much smaller—and harshly reprimanded her for lazing around. After yelling at her for a while, she grabbed her by the face, gave her a couple of sharp slaps, and spat on her without restraint. The smaller girl didn’t even defend herself.

Renata tore off her T-shirt and stood completely naked in the middle of the room. She positioned the stuffed animal with its snout pointing upward and straddled it. She was paying only half attention to the video now. She began to move, rubbing her clitoris against the stuffed animal, slowly and carefully at first, then faster and faster. She imagined a woman beneath her, trapped, enduring her punishment with no chance of escape.

She felt lashes of electricity shoot from her sex up to her chest. She brought her hands to her nipples and caressed them, squeezing a little. On the screen, the tall blonde had already stripped completely. She was leaning against the wall, pulling her buttocks apart with both hands, giving the smaller girl full access to lick her anus and work it with her tongue. Without thinking, Renata spread her own buttocks too. There was no one behind her, of course, but she felt the cool air pass over her skin and, somehow absurdly, that filled her with satisfaction.

She loved watching a good scene like that. To her, it was one of the most degrading things one person could do to another, and that was precisely why she enjoyed watching them so much. Quiet humiliation, without real violence, just power and surrender—that was what brought her to the brink.

The scene changed. Now the tall blonde was standing with one leg propped on a chair, displaying herself as much as possible, while forcing the other girl to run her entire face over her sex and ass, leaving no spot untouched. The smaller girl obeyed with her tongue out, covering everything. At one point, the dominant woman began drinking water from a bottle, and after a while started releasing it into the submissive’s mouth, which received it without pulling away.

Renata pressed the stuffed animal’s snout against the mattress with all her strength and felt her clitoris tighten to a point she knew well. Her first orgasm arrived, short and electric, but that wasn’t enough for her. Without stopping her movements, she brought her other hand between her legs and began pushing in one finger, then another, until her sex was well filled with three.

On the screen, meanwhile, the larger blonde forced the smaller girl to hold a dildo in her mouth. Then she mounted it and began rising and lowering herself over the girl’s face, trying to drive it deeper and deeper, using her as though she were just another piece of furniture. Renata, with three fingers probing inside herself and another pressing against her hypersensitive clitoris, couldn’t hold back any longer.

She felt an enormous wetness run between her fingers, and a cry escaped her mouth before she could contain it. Curiously, she had climaxed at the same time as the dominant woman in the video, as if the two of them had synchronized by accident. The coincidence made her smile, still breathless, her chest rising and falling.

She stayed like that for a while, sitting on the stuffed animal and catching her breath. Her body felt heavy and hot, her thighs trembling slightly and a thin layer of sweat covering her back. The screen continued playing the scene, but she wasn’t watching anymore; now it seemed almost like background noise, something alien, as if it belonged to another person who was no longer her.

Then she closed the tab, cleaned herself with the crumpled T-shirt, and returned the stuffed dog to the very top of the wardrobe, its usual place, intact and apparently innocent. She slipped beneath the sheets with a faint smile and heavy eyes. She was calm now. The day’s tension had vanished completely, and that night, at last, she was going to sleep well.