Praising Kink Novels & Stories

I replied, and her next words were muffled as Enzo filled her mouth again. “You feel so good, princess. Every inch of you was made for pleasure.” Enzo groaned, and his praise made her inner walls pulse, and grip me like a vice. “Damn, sweetheart. Do you have a praise kink? Do you like hearing what a good girl you are for us? Yes you do. I can feel what it does to you. You gripped me so tight.”

"Let me feel you come for me like the good girl I know you are." That's all it takes. As soon as the sentence ends, I'm a shuddering, spasming mess in his arms, flying apart at the seams. He doesn't stop moving, doesn't stop fucking the life out of me. The whole table rattles with every savage thrust. I cling to him like that'll keep me from dissolving into the ether. "Good girl," he growls repeatedly. "So fucking beautiful when you take my cock..." If I didn't have a praise kink before, I do now. It's one thing to be desired as a physical object—it's another thing entirely to feel like he'd fuck my soul if he could.

"Degrading, huh? Tell me more. And I want to know everything, in depth." "It's weird but, I have a praise kink too. I like it when you tell me how good I'm doing, or when you tell me how pretty I am when you're inside me... or when you tell me I'm a good girl." I say, getting hot. He's just soaking all this up. "Go on." he says. "I like it when you're dominant and aggressive with me. I like it when you tell me what to do or when you make me submissive."

I wasn't sure what I was begging for, but I felt I might die if he kept this up any longer. “Go over for me, baby.” He said. That was all it took for me to fly off the cliff. I sobbed into the ceiling as my hips bucked. I felt myself losing touch with reality. His fingers still thrusted in and out of me, giving me no respite even as I spasmed out of control. “Such a good girl.” He said as he withdrew his fingers when I finally came down from my high, breathing erratically. I didn't know how it was possible, but I could feel more juices flowing out of me at his words. I never knew I had a praise kink.

She’s truly amazing, and in this moment, she’s ours. If I’d known she had a praise kink, I would’ve brought her to this room long before now. Just the thought of it—her strapped to the spanking bench, bound and vulnerable, trembling with anticipation. I can almost see her now, her cheeks flushed, tears slipping down as she begs for me to make her good. She’d be there, writhing, waiting for my approval, for the moment I call her a ‘good girl.’ And before that, I’d keep her on edge, calling her a ‘bad girl’ to heighten every response, watching her squirm, seeing the desperation in her eyes as she pleads for the praise she craves. Only when her voice was raw, her need undeniable, would I relent

Maybe I was the perfect submissive like he thought I was. When I finally dared to look at him, he walked towards me and put his hand on my cheek. “Beautiful.” That one word was enough to send a burst of relief flooding through my brain. When he saw my reaction, he smirked. “You have a praise kink.” “What?” “You get off on being praised, Serena. I see your reaction every single time I call you a good girl, and now, when I said you’re beautiful.” I didn’t even realize how much I got off on people telling me how good I did or how good I looked. It must have been why I was disappointed the first night I met Nero.

Without a warning, he shoved two fingers into my hole, sending shivers up my spine. As he finger fucked me, he rubbed my clit so hard. “Tell me, I’m doing well,” he said, “Tell me, am I being a good boy?” Did he have a praise kink? Something in me stirred, and my new desire rose in me. And I wanted to play along. “Just like that.” I parted my legs, creating more space for his fingers. “Be a good boy, and fuck me.” A low growl bubbled at the back of his throat. His cock grew bigger and harder.

Each touch, each caress, pushes me further toward the edge of ecstasy, leaving me trembling with desire and anticipation. "I want you to touch me," I rasp, my voice breathless with desire, my body eager for him to fulfill my every craving. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs against my skin, his words sending a wave of unexpected happiness coursing through me, hearing him say that to me. Do I have a praise kink? I’m not given time to dwell on that as he moves his hand from my other breast, now focusing his attention on massaging and pulling my nipples between his fingers. With each caress, wetness pools in my core, aching for his touch there.

I did do good, but not too good, if I did good I wouldn't have had to use affirmations, I hate affirmations. King sees them as a mode of punishment for me, reminding me just how good and relevant I am after degrading me in the bedroom is his kink and apparently mine too. I liked it so much in the past when I was praised but getting degraded and praised at the same time has me orgasming just thinking about it. “I have to get cleaned up, my next meeting is with Hades.” I tell him, rising from his lap. “God,” he murmurs, his hand tracing my ass cheek. “Why do you let me do this to you Camilla?”

They do not lose their power; they simply choose to place it in hands they trust implicitly. I wrote for two solid hours. I dismantled the myth that kink was devoid of romance, explaining how the meticulous negotiation of boundaries was, in fact, the most profound expression of intimacy. I detailed the neurological realities of subspace, demystifying the chemical drop and elevating it from a taboo secret to a beautiful, documented human experience. When I reached the end of the post, I didn't sign it The Advocate. I typed: Cassandra Monroe. "You are dropping the shield."