This is a story with many other stories interwoven.

It was Memorial Day and I was horny. I was desperate as well which is never a good combination. I get that way. I get a strong sense of desperation. I felt numb inside and I needed to feel. Sex can be an addiction for me and I was craving my drug of choice. I needed to run and hide from myself, a lot of stress and angst had been building. Literally, I needed something memorable.

As sexual as I am, I do not get laid as much as one would suspect or probably as much as my readers would wish. I have a few sexual partners and I meet them all off the internet which is a flawed and a weak system. I have a certain shyness in real life.

Anyways, Memorial Day, I text message a casual playmate of mine. This is the exchange:

Me: “Want to fuck me tonight?”

Him: “Yes. Your place? What time?”

Me: “Yes, my place, 8:00.”

Him: “Sounds good. Can’t wait to fuck your tight pussy.”

Me: “Yeah, can’t wait. Don’t talk though. Just come in and take off my clothes, fuck me without warming me up.”

Him: “Will do”

My outfit of choice for the evening was a black lace garter belt, black stockings; black silk skirt that could easily be lifted, and a black velvet cleavage bearing tank top. Oh and of course black heels.

Nearly true to his word he came into my room and made his attack on me. I wanted literally no talking but he must have been nervous and needed to fill the silence because as he took me into his arms he said, “Hey beautiful, how you doing?” I kissed him to make him shut up.

He took off my top and I pulled off his shirt. As he began to pull himself out of his shorts I turned around, placed my hands on the edge of my bed and bent over, presenting my ass and pussy to him.

He worked one finger inside me and oh so briefly finger fucked me. Eh, I had not wanted a warm up at all so I was kinda annoyed by that but of course it felt delicious. He put on the condom and then positioned his cock against my opening, grabbed onto my hips, and fucked himself real nice and hard into me. Oh, it was good…it was really good. I felt every inch of him pushing his way into me; he had to slam hard his hips hard against me to get him self fully sheathed. I loved the resistance as inch by inch he forced himself into me. My pussy started off fiercely stinging but only for a minute or so as I started fucking my hips against his rhythm.

The sex was great but was very short and would have been much better if he pulled my hair and spanked me. He lasted about 10 minutes, maybe less, and pulled out, pushed me down to a seated pose, whipped off the condom and delivered a nice load on my face. The facial was ok, nice big load but half of it ended up being sprayed on the bed, quite sloppy and not in a good way.

We lay down on the bed and I thought we were resting in preparation for round two although apparently I was wrong because we rested for 10 minutes and then he got up and said that he had to leave and mumbled some shit-ass apology about it being such a quickie.

I was not a happy girl. So, he left and I was very unsatisfied. At that point I had not even put my top back on nor had I cleaned up the cum drying on my face.

I was crazed and desperate. My pussy was begging for another fuck. I most certainly had not gotten off or come anywhere close to getting off.

I go online, intent on finding someone right then and there to fuck me. Some guy IM’s me from my friends list. I vaguely remember him from AFF, we had talked a few times. He had seemed ok but not interesting enough for me to have wanted to fuck right away. I could not remember his name.

I ask him if he is doing anything and when he says no I ask if he wants to fuck me. He says yes and we make plans. “How quick can you arrive?” Well, quite quick as we discovered that he was only a 10 minute drive away from me. Nice. I sat back and waited for him to arrive. I put my top back on, brushed my hair, and left the cum stains that had dripped down onto my collar bones and chin.

Boy number two arrives and he’s ok looking – pretty much what I expected. We talk for a few moments and then he starts kissing me. He was not a bad kisser. I get down on my knees, he takes off my tank top, starts playing with my tits, and I take him out of his pants and start sucking his cock. He had an average sized cock, nothing amazing and I did not care for the taste of him. He had very nervous energy and I knew he was eager to please me. He let me suck him for 10 minutes or so and then he asked if he could fuck me. I lay on my back and waited for him to put the condom on. He positioned himself over my body and guided his cock inside me. It was very uneventful sex, I don’t have a damn thing to say about it. It was fine. It felt good but it wasn’t as rough as I needed it to be. I asked if we could change to doggy style and in doing so it was very sloppy, he sorta lost his erection and he got it back and then slipped out of me a few times…eh…crappy.

“I want your cum,” I said to him. He pulled out, took off the condom, and put his cock near my face. I started sucking on him again and got serious about it. He guided me away once he realized he was close to cumming and asked me where I would like the load.

“Cum on my face,” I told him. He came on my face and just as with the first guy it was kinda crappy in terms of facials. He had a very small load and he ended up basically just smearing the head of his cock and the little bit of cum around on my cheek. Actually, that part by itself was kinda sexy.

So, he was done and I was done because I was disappointed by the entire night. We lay together and talked for a few minutes because I did not want to be rude and eventually he left.

I went online to talk to Jason who I had been communicating with before I fucked the second guy. I needed male attention. I was desperate and I was sexually craved. I was also trying to deal with how much I missed Sean.

So, here we go, the Sean introduction.

Sean is a pivotal character in my life right now. Sean is the first guy that I really surrendered to, he was the first one to really introduce me to pain. And I love him. I love him and he is a total and complete mind fuck. He is great in bed and deep down he is a good guy. He’s just royally fucked in the head right now after returning from Iraq. The war is inside him and Sean uses his cock like a weapon. I love it. I love his cock and cannot get enough of it. He’s got this big meaty thick cock and it just drives me wild. I could go on and on about Sean but I will save that for other entries. Anyways, at this point, the story is that Sean and I go back and forth, basically our entire relationship consists of having insanely intense and passionate sex (as well as emotional tenderness) and then him ignoring me for 2-3 weeks, him finally coming back to me and me calling him a bastard and every other name that I can think of and then us having some type of version of make up sex. And then the cycle starts all over again with him pulling his fucked up runaway shit. God, he’s a bastard. But what a mind fuck…and what a cock…

Yeah, Sean is gorgeous. Completely fuckin gorgeous. Anyways, all I could think about as these two guys fucked me was how badly I wished it was Sean. I was not in a good head space.

So, I texted Sean some brief little description about how I had just fucked two men and all I could think about was him – I had no idea if he would even respond to me. But he did, he responded quite quickly. We went online and started talking. There was much to talk about, mostly angst-ridden emotional crap. But we ended with some good sex talk and he gave me the wonderful treat of masturbating over his web cam. It was glorious. It was so fuckin glorious and such a reminder of how pitiful and lacking my last two fucks were.

Normal sex does not do it for me right now. Fucking and sucking used to please me but now it’s just boring. I crave Sean. I want his cock forced inside my pussy, I want the pain of feeling him stretch me out. He fills me. At first I could hardly handle his cock inside me and we always had to use lube. Now he can just work himself right inside me and start fucking me nice and hard. And I love his cock inside my mouth…oh, I love to worship his cock and truly it is cock worship. Me giving Sean a blowjob turns into fucking art, both of us active participants. I take him as far down my throat as I can, gagging on his thick length and he pulls hard on my hair until my throat cannot take anymore and I pull away. He’ll take his wet cock out of my mouth and slap it against my face. Sean taught me the art of gagging on cock and he taught me the value of extremely messy blowjobs. He’ll pull his cock out of my mouth, press the shaft against my lips and demand that I spit and drool all over his cock.  He usually delivers his cum to me by forcing me down on my back, head slightly hanging off the edge of the bed and then he lowers himself down over my mouth so I can suck on his balls as he jerks himself off and finishes with a hot massive load delivered right on my face. As I said: fuckin glorious.

So yeah, this was a story of the last two guys who fucked me but really it was a story about Sean. He left an imprint on me, a hell of an imprint. I knew I would never be the same after him. He brings me to the edge time and time again. I gave him myself. I gave him my submission and it was one of the most beautiful things I have experienced. Fuckin bastard. Oh, it’s not over between us. He’ll be back. He’ll always be back, I think.

 
“Why are you the way that you are?” I remember the first time that he asked me this although later as we went farther into our sexuality he would ask me again and again. 

He’s an inquisitive bastard. I refer to him as so many different flavors of bastard. It’s a good nick name for him. He’s probably the closest that I’ve had in the past years to a true lover and an equal partner. Still, he’s a right bastard and I say it with fondness because with all I have put up with from him I believe I have earned the right to speak of him in this manner.

I did not think he was a bastard when he first asked me the question. I was quite enamored with him. It was a late night phone conversation. I was pacing the length of my apartment room because I was filled with such excitement and such tenderness for our connection that I could not keep still, truly I did not wish to be contained.

I was standing by the window when he asked me. I kept my hands busy by playing with the blinds, peeking out into the dark night, watching a police car slowly cruise by.

“Why are you the way that you are?”

I knew he wanted some depraved story of dark childhood sexual fascination or a story of perverted molestation – he wanted something like that because he gets off on that type of story. He wanted something to grab onto. Like I said, he’s an inquisitive bastard and he likes to put the pieces together. He is good at what he does. Possibly better than I am and I do not say that lightly.

“Why am I the way that I am?” I repeated the question and traced my fingertips across the cool window pane. I have a rare talent for a throwing a conversation around in circles. I felt close to him, quite close although I am a very guarded individual so I knew that I was not going to share my stories with him, not that night. I ended up giving him my body but I did not give him my stories, little of my truth. But then again, it is not flesh that is sacred it is what is contained within flesh that is sacred.

“Oh, I don’t really know. I am what I am…I like what I like…I always knew I was this way.” I think that is all I said to him. Later in bed together I would lie there tracing my fingertips across his chest and I would ask him why he was the way that he was. He had answers for me. He had stories.

And even later down the road we would lay together again like that and in frustration he would sit up and adamantly declare to me, “I don’t need to do this shit when I’m in love with someone, it can be just regular sex.”

That stung more than any implement he had ever beaten into my skin; that hurt more than any of the pain that I had willingly cried out for.

Love is what balances us out. I think about that a lot lately. I however, find it difficult to love someone who cannot meet all the needs of my sexuality and certainly I would not settle down and spend my life with someone who failed to dominate me the way I crave.

Why am I the way that I am?

I went for a long walk today beneath the sweltering sun and I thought about this.

It is something that I always knew. I always knew that I was different, always had this outsider quality to me. I’ve always had my sexuality; I have no memories of ever not being sexual or being fascinated by sex. When I was young, before the age of 10, I was very obsessed with spanking. Spanking fueled all of my fantasies. I knew very little about sexual mechanics and I myself had never been spanked, not really, but I was very obsessed with it. I read these Little House on the Prairie books where occasionally the young girls would get spanked by their father. I was an avid reader and I would fold down the top corner of the pages that contained short descriptions of spanking scenes and I would reread them again and again. I would masturbate in bed and visualize the scenes, the characters being spanked by their father. I don’t think there was any incestuous element to it – no, that is a fantasy that I do not directly relate to – although I understand it. I’m not looking for a daddy though.

One night I was lying on the floor by the couch watching TV with my family. My parents were on the couch and I was half-watching the TV but more focused on a map I was drawing. Yes, I drew maps of imaginary fantasy lands as a child which is quite funny considering my inability to read road maps as an adult. There was a commercial playing on the TV, it was a commercial for a news show later in the evening, Dateline or 20/20, something like that. They were doing a special about parents punishing their child, specifically spanking. They showed this brief footage of a parent spanking their child over the clothing and I remember starring at the TV screen completely transfixed, I had never seen that done before. I remember the warmth spreading throughout my body and the need I had to rub my body against the floor. I sat up and told my parents that I was ready for bed. They were surprised because I was a night owl and it was far from my usual bed time. After being put to bed I stayed up late replaying that brief spanking scene over and over in my head.

Later I would develop more elaborate fantasies that went beyond spanking. My favorite fantasy that I went back to over and over in my head was of being kidnapped by this elaborate organized crime group that went around the world kidnapping young children and taking them to this locked facility which was like a jail. Each child was put in a jail cell and would be taken out periodically to be groomed and trained for clients. The trainers had to teach us children how to be prostitutes. It was not brutal training; they were very nice to us children although sometimes they had to use harsh methods to teach us the value of pain. The actual sexual content was limited, I still did not know much about sex and so most of the training would involve spankings and being tied up and whipped. I was very intrigued by bondage. I loved the idea of being forced to service older men. I never fantasized about cruel domination; it was always a beautiful blend of gentleness and pain.

I am not your typical submissive pain slut. In fact, I don’t fully embrace the title of pain slut although I use it hear because it is a description that has been used to describe me in the past. It is rarely the pain itself that gets me off, that is, not the pain as a sensation. I get off on the sense of depravity, I get off on the vulgarity and the fierceness of it. And I am not a typical submissive girl in the sense that I don’t submit easily, in fact, I’ve really only submitted to one man. I like balance and I am a control freak and believe that I should always be the one in power. I don’t do typical BDSM play. I have never completely surrendered to someone. I would never call a man my Master, Sir, or any other nonsense like that. I understand the pleasure and the fun in that but it’s not for me.

I do play out scenes with partners that can meet me on equal ground. It is beautiful to submit to an equal, there is a certain purity to it that by itself brings me to my knees. There is strength in submitting like this. I have never felt used or exploited and would not directly get off on that. It is agreed upon in advance what the scene will involve and the level of pain. If something comes to mind in the moment than my partner will run it by me before doing it without my permission.

I find bliss in submitting like this. I have had to do a lot over the years in regards to reclaiming my sexuality and truly I have found a place of growth and vitality. I feel very good when I find the right man to submit to and to play with. There have been very few men that have experienced me like this. I am extremely picky and there are very few men that I consider strong enough to be my equal.

I am still learning about my boundaries when it comes to pain. Sean says my pussy drips when he beats me and it is that knowledge alone that makes me writhe beneath his hand. I like the pain, certainly it heightens everything. I grit my teeth and beg for more than I can probably handle. I always felt the need to impress him because he had a history of girls much more extreme than I am or will probably ever be. He once had a 24/7 slave and so I had quite the history to compete with. I have never said enough is enough, I refuse to say those words and he did not have the right to push me to the point where I would have to say those words. I do dictate when a scene is over though. I’ll sit up and switch to a different sexual activity and he will follow my lead.

When it comes to pain right now my favorite things are nipple clamps, being beaten, and of course spankings. I like to be beaten on my ass, thighs, breasts and pussy. Few things drive me as wild as a good spanking against my clit. I can take a good amount of damage and I think my pale skin looks quite beautiful covered in bruises and welts. I heal and recover relatively quickly from the bruises. I have been beaten with a ruler, plastic rod, and of course hand.

In the future I would like to be beaten with a wooden spoon, a flogger, and a belt; those are what I think about. I would also like to increase the amount of torture I can take to my breasts, I think as of right now I can only take a moderate level of torture. I have not ever let someone tie me up or blindfold me. These are elements that I am very obsessed with right now although they require an extreme amount of trust. In general, I would like to continue to increase my threshold of pain, maybe I will truly become a pain slut. We shall see what I develop into.

In the palm of my hand
the hollow defeat, the insecure, the selfish
The habit I have of looking at myself nude in the mirror:
Blind and bright eyed, young and fresh, used and abused.
Through it all, it’s something like a curtain
of cold tile floor, musky incense smoke, and
dusky candlelight
I have begged to conjure you
Through just a whisper of longing
poetry to the tongue
The syntax, the syllables, the very pronunciation
Of begging, absolute begging,
Past dignity, past hopes and dreams,
Past the point of desperation
I just
want.
you.
inside.
me.
Cold tile floor, musky incense smoke, dusky candlelight
Blind and bright eyed, I spin mantras that I swallow whole
want.
you.
inside.
me.
When I embrace you in flesh,
vulnerable,
Oceans of silence and moonlight that sparkles
The past will meet the present
All will
Come Alive.