Hey there, say there.
My name's Faye and this all really happened during 2 ½ days in late 2002. But first of all, I want to tell you that it’s okay if you skip the part about me and go to the dirty part. I understand. No, really!
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…Thank you for still being here with me. I'm not sure why I’m typing this or what I’ll do with it. I guess I’ll upload it somewhere because, well, what else can I do? I can’t print copies and send them as Christmas cards to my friends
…because I don’t HAVE any friends.
What I DO have is have autism, which means that I don't like talking to people. Even being in the mall makes me feel confused and upset because of all the noise and confusion.
It also means that people think I'm really strange (though I'm not sure exactly how). I feel like I'm just “me”, but people see me as being impolite, emotionless, abrupt, naive, inappropriate, disturbingly “intense” (whatever that means), shockingly direct, far too trusting, boringly matter-of-factual, and utterly tactless.
By the way, if it matters, I have medium-to-short very dark brown hair which I used to dye lighter, am 32 now (but this happened when I was 27), weigh about 145, and am 5'11". I know I'm "cute", but like being "smart", that's just another reason for people to be jealous and hate you.
I have degrees in computers and astronomy but quit my job at the nuclear engineering company in 2002 after I told a coworker what I did over the three-day weekend, because it was SO exciting and sexy. But instead of thinking it was sexy too, she didn’t say anything. Then I found out she told everybody else, and they all treated me with scowls and weird looks, so I just WALKED OUT and never went to another job again. How I live without working is another story. I’ll tell you after the main story. Speaking of which…
IF YOU SKIPPED THAT BORING STUFF TO GET TO THE "DIRTY" PART, OKAY, HERE IT IS
I only had sex once before, with a guy in high school who was probably autistic too (Dave). He was an extreme "nerd", with no friends). He had been my chem. lab partner the previous year. We didn't date or kiss or even smile. He just asked me after school one day waiting for the bus in the media center if I would like to try doing it, since he never did and I guess he figured I didn’t either. We just went in the woods behind GHS and took off our clothes, but didn't talk. It was like some kind of serious "procedure".
We each explored the other person's body (I don't have any siblings and he didn't have a sister and I never saw a naked guy before). So THIS was a dick! Wow, and that must be where he was circumcised. Coo-well! It really does have a little “head”, and I guess that hole is where they pee and cum comes out. And the “scrotum”, it looked like the skin on it was made of a big dried apricot with hair. And in the sack, there were two little THINGS in there, like grapes: wow, those were his BALLS! God DAMN! I stroked them like they were magical, to be worshipped. That made his dick twitch.
I lay on my back and he examined me between my legs. He licked his fingers and put one in my cunt and my asshole at the same time, pushed his fingertips together and pulled real hard. It hurt but I forced myself not to move. He sucked my clit REAL hard until it hurt, but I didn’t move then either. He pinched my vulva lips hard too, and bit my nipples, and sucked on them real, real hard until blood came under the surface. He probably didn’t know how much he was hurting me as I was being explored and examined, but I liked it because I liked him, and was being obedient.
When it was my turn to look at his dick I licked it, and smiled at him, but his eyes were closed. I asked if I could suck it, and he nodded. It tasted strange, like salty skin. Everything else I ever put in my mouth was to eat. The skin was loose, like on a chicken’s neck. It felt soft on the outside but hard near the center, like it had a soft bone in it. I guess I was expecting it to be isotropic, like a popsicle.
And it was hot.
I sucked on the head and I licked the clit part at the bottom of the head with my tongue, which made him moan and start thrusting it into the back of my throat. I was so proud that I had done that for him, given him so much pleasure, and in such a crude, obscene way. As he thrusted into my face, I was aware that suddenly I wasn't doing something for ME or even doing something for HIM, but my mouth and head were just female body parts being used by his thrusting dick for his own pleasure as his balls were slapping against my chin
When he told me to lie on my back, I didn’t want him to take his dick out of my mouth and I tried to keep it in, but he took it out anyway. I squeezed my lips on it as it passed through them to get every last moment of this glorious dick-suck experience that I could.
I laid on my back on my pile of clothes and felt SOO excited. I opened my legs really fast and held them as wide as I could with my feet slightly off the ground. I could feel sticky-bush stems pushing against my ass, hurting me. I leaned my head back, looked up at the sky, and waited to be fucked. I also liked that feeling of lying with my legs open, silently and obediently waiting to be fucked. I would have patiently waited for hours.
Very serious-looking, he got on top and then Dave fucked me. I had heard it hurt the first time but except for stretching a little, it didn’t, maybe cause I explore myself so much from being curious. We never even thought to use protection, which is strange. Neither of us made any noise or moaned like in the videos. We didn’t look at each other or talk. I didn’t cum but I liked being fucked. It was like a revelation. It made me feel happy and loved, and I pretended he was my boyfriend. Mom had always told me it was a dirty and horrible experience but now knew she was lying to me. I still don't know why.
He cummed into me silently, then put on his clothes without saying anything and left me lying there alone, naked in the woods.
It was PERFECT.
I was lying there alone, full of his cum. It was running out of me slowly and I watched it do that for the longest time, fascinated. Since I began having sex feelings I have been fascinated by my cunt, but never as much as seeing it with cum dripping out after being fucked for the first time. That image will be with me forever.
I had never even seen a close-up picture of cum; I thought it would be grey and watery, but it was thick and white. I smelled it and was surprised that it has a slight odor, and I tasted it, tentatively. Sticky! Then I use two fingers to scoop a lot of it out and ate it. I reached my fingers in as deep as I could and scooped it out and into my mouth again and again until there wasn't any more of his cum left inside me, not because I liked the taste but because it was HIS: DAVID’S SPERM had come from DAVID’ BALLS and he pumped it into my cunt with DAVID’S DICK when DAVID FUCKED me and I was NAKED.
I wanted to be OWNED by David.
That’s what I was thinking as I masturbated until I cummed too, with his sticky “yick” all on my face and fingers and in my mouth. I lay there naked for about 15 minutes more, then masturbated again, tasting his sperm. I had also rubbed it all over my face and in my ears, and it was beginning to dry. I left his cum on my face until I took a shower the next morning, and I was SO sorry to have to wash it off. To me, it was like an invisible badge of ownership… and it had come from his BALLS!
Even though it was getting dark, I didn’t want to put on my clothes. I sat there for about an hour, just looking around and thinking. I wanted another boy to discover me there, naked. I thought about what I would do. Would I take his dick out of his pants and start sucking it without ever saying anything? I lay on my back with my legs open and my eyes closed and pretended there was someone there and I was waiting for him to use me. When it occurred to me that a GANG of boys might find me, mean ones, I masturbated for a third time. I didn’t want to put on my clothes. I wanted to be dirty and naughty and obscene and smeared with cum and lewd and bad and fucked and naked FOREVER.
The next day, I was excited at the prospect of seeing him and watched the door for him to come in to the class we had. When he did come in my heart raced, but he didn’t look at me. I thought we would be friends and maybe eat lunch together or maybe even go to McDonald’s or something. I would even pay for mine myself. I smiled at him twice, hoping he would be my friend now. But he avoided me because he was embarrassed, so I figured I'd be embarrassed too and (literally) never talked to him again. That was all right, I guess. I mean, it was okay. It made me kind of sad, though.
Dave, if you read this, email me: [email protected]
Anyway, that's the closest I ever got to having a boyfriend. Other than that, I never went out on a date, even in college. When guys were friendly in college, they were much more direct and it scared the hell out of me. They’d put their arm around me when just talking someone’s dorm room about something unrelated, like there was this secondary, unspoken parallel context, which was SO creepy.
I felt confused because I didn't know exactly what to say, and I have this HUGE history of people getting mad when I said stuff (any stuff), so I always pretended like I didn't understand that they wanted to kiss me and climb on me. Sometimes I had to push them away and get upset and leave. Plus I hate the idea of being kissed or held or talked to or even looked at, because sex is embarrassing and weird and creepy and scary, and it reminds me of being a mother and a grandmother and evolution and the galaxy and the monolith and death.
I bet you didn’t know that “2001” was really a metaphor for puberty. Yup! The blast on the moon was first masturbation, Jupiter was a girl, and Hal’s “secret” was knowledge that there’s a hidden purpose to life that little kids don't know. Poole was one way of dealing with it, and Bowman was the other. And the stargate was… a CUNT. If you enter it and ride to the end, there’s an explosion, which starts a whole new universe... a new life.
I have always chosen the Poole way, the wrong way. I chickened out; I let Hal beat me at chess. For instance, all my classes were with guys -- nerds, which I liked a LOT. They were the only people I could ever truly talk to about cool stuff like thermoelectrics and LISP data structures. And they explained stuff to me, like how a stereo signal works and three-phase power. Around them, I forgot I was a girl with a cunt and they were guys with dicks, and we just were SO excited when we made something cool work! But we never got excited about… OTHER things.
BUT:
Film symbolism and crazy talk are not what you're reading this for. I can hear you say: “yeah, great, but this is a BDSM site. So far, she’s only written some fuck, and not very much of it. Where’s the WHIP part? When is this bitch gonna CRY?”
Okay, segue (strangely enough, that rhymes)…
I guess I would have liked to have been fucked by some of the CS dept. guys, but sex is just so... DIFFERENT from everything else in life. I mean, I guess one minute I’m supposed to be all "so what do YOU think the recursion termination condition is" and then suddenly it's like "say, how 'bout I lie on the computer lab floor and you STARE INTO MY ASSHOLE WHILE YOU FURIOUSLY LICK MY GENITALIA LIKE AN INSANE, OUT-OF-CONTROL ANIMAL AND THRUST YOUR HARD DICK DOWN MY THROAT AND SLAP YOUR HAIRY BALLS AGAINST MY FACE unless that’s inappropriate, in which case I guess we’d better calculate the optimal loop index increment instead”.
Owww, the inconsistency! Context fault interrupt! Shutdown! Embarrassing… embarrassing! Abort!
“I’m sorry Faye, I’m afraid I can’t DO that”.
THAT’S why I never went out on dates in college. Because no matter how relaxed the situation supposedly is, the above discontinuity is always implicitly manifest. Except while you’re actually doing it, sex is just so blatantly embarrassing and pointless, the elephant in the room that nobody talks about, and I’m just no good at politely ignoring the obvious. And in casual social situations like the dining hall or a mixer, the secret/obvious elephant is slapping me in the face with its tail so hard that I stutter and mumble and can’t talk. But no matter how much I’d prefer to say something like “Sooo… you’re a GUY. That means you have a DICK, right?” I’m not allowed to do that. It’s not POLITE. People would think I’m crazy, when really I’m just retarded. So I have to talk about whatever is consistent with the nominal context and pretend I’m not being slapped silly by the elephant’s tail.
Oops, crazy talk again.
Sorry.
ANYWAY (here comes the pain and humiliation part): One day I met a girl I knew from high school at the Safeway. She asked for my number and she called me to talk. She’s married now and they bought an old 1932 house way in the country. Her husband likes to tie her up and whip her-- HARD. And she told me that sometimes he locks her in a closet all weekend with her hands handcuffed to her feet and only takes her out to fuck, and then he puts her back in the closet. That was so sexy, I felt numb. One weekday morning, he locked her naked in the trunk of his car. She didn’t even know where he was taking her. When he let her out they were at the farm where he works, and he tied her to a table in the barn all day for all the other guys to use when they took a break from work. She also said “and once he whipped me ‘till I passed out”… then GIGGLED!
It was AMAZING. It really happened to somebody I know; it wasn’t a fantasy this time or a fake movie with a “bondage model”. I was astounded, but she said she LOVED it! Those were her exact words. I could hardly hold the phone or talk because I felt like I was on drugs. I know my voice was shaking.
After we hung up, it was all I could think about. I knew that there really were people that did those sorts of things, but, god! It HAPPENED, Diana really DID it! Her words echoed in my brain: “No, I LOVED it”. My mind was swimming. It was like a release and a revelation; everything I had been told in my life was lies, awful, horrible, evil, anti-happiness LIES.
I went in the bedroom and rubbed the nub until I cummed, which took all of fifteen seconds. I did it a couple of minutes later too, pretending it had been ME in the barn. And twice again that night and first thing the next morning, every time pretending it was ME climbing out of the trunk and ME walking across the dirt parking lot with bare feet, and ME entering a barn full of guys who weren’t expecting me while my husband stayed outside, and ME who lay on the floor and spread my legs, never saying anything to the surprised men. It was ME tied to the table all day, unable to move, waiting patiently for someone else to fuck me, cum in me, use me and walk away without ever thanking me or saying anything or even acknowledging I was a person.
I don't really drink, but I did the next day so I could call her up and ask her (after a lot of beating around the bush, so to speak) if maybe, uhh, she could get her husband to lock ME in his car and give ME to his friends.
I figured she’d just hang up because every time I say something stupid and direct, particularly if it involves feelings, people don’t say anything, look at me weird, walk away, and are never friendly anymore... and I never know why. I got thrown off the majorgeeks discussion forum for talking strange, and I still have absolutely no idea why. All I talked about was stuff like overclocking my GeForce 7800. I didn’t even talk about sex or anything. That happens to me all the time, people hating me for no reason they can explain.
But to my surprise Diana got all excited and offered to put him on the phone.
NO!
I didn't want to know him or talk to him, I just wanted to be tied up, whipped, and raped.
So she was the intermediary, and after a couple of days of back and forth, we decided that on the 3-day weekend, he would gag me at the front door without saying hello so I wouldn’t have to figure out what to say, and go in the basement, strip naked, and do whatever I was told. Then if everything was going okay, he'd get one of his friends to come over and help dominate and rape me all weekend. Anonymously.
Well, what I thought would be fear, my brain interpreted as excitement! Part of the deal was that I would never have to say ANYTHING to ANYONE, that no one would ever ask my name or talk to me, and I'd be just a sexy naked girl body for them to hurt and humiliate and use in any way they want to for their own selfish physical pleasure. That was the best part, feeling I wasn't responsible for once. That whatever happened, it wasn’t my fault and nobody could hate me for doing something screwed up because it involved feelings-- particularly these strange, new ones I never realized I had before.
I counted the days ‘till Friday, and couldn’t concentrate at work to the extent that I said I was sick and had to leave early. I took a shower and washed my pussy and ass hole real good, dreamily thinking about how in less than an hour they would both be examined real closely by a strange man. A couple of days earlier, when Diana told me to use an enema before arriving, I almost dropped the phone and masturbated then and there. Now, I felt so deliciously shameful doing it, knowing why I was.
I shaved the hair on my cunt short, shaved my legs and armpits, and put on perfume; I wanted my rapist to like me, and I wondered if what I hoped was coming was maybe too good to be true, that it couldn’t REALLY be about to happen. I considered what to wear, but realized that it didn’t matter because if this really happened, I would be taking my clothes off first thing, and not putting them back on for three days.
I considered bringing them a present to thank them for raping me, but my subtle, autistic jokes were never recognized as such, and anyway, the real present I was bringing them was in my pants.
I hoped they’d like it.
AIRLOCK
When I got to their house I stood on the threshold of a dream and thought about whether I really wanted to do this. Yes, it could be dangerous, but I was more worried about doing something wrong. I pressed the doorbell button three times, paused, then pressed it three times again. Diana opened the door and I felt the warm air blow out.
She said “hi” but didn’t ask me to come in. I said “hi” and stood in the doorway, staring at cracks in their linoleum floor. When I had had enough of that, I concentrated intensely on the fact that electric outlets in 1932 were not only unpolarized, they weren’t even grounded. I hoped that in the increasingly unlikely case that anything actually happened tonight, someone would shock my vulva with electricity.
But she never said anything and I was becoming concerned that this was another instance of “it” happening. In this case, someone making a joke and me not knowing it:
“Faye! What are YOU doing here?“
“You mean you thought… I was SERIOUS??”
“Who is it, honey?”
“It’s… it’s Faye, darling. That talk, she thought it was for real.”
“Oh my god.”
Things like that happen to me all the time. Never about sex before, though.
I just stood there awkwardly, wondering if I should just turn around and walk away, which is what I usually do when “it” happens. Then her husband came and stuffed a cloth in my mouth and put duct tape over it. WHEW! He grabbed me by my upper left arm and led me to the basement and Diana followed. Nobody had said anything else yet.
The only things he said to me the whole weekend were “take off all your clothes” and (later) “it’s okay, don’t worry, you can scream as loud as you want”.
Diana sat on the couch and watched. I sat on the floor and took off my shoes and socks, then stood up and took off my jeans and then my T-shirt. I never wear a bra because my breasts are medium-small. Then I pulled my panties down, hesitating before showing my bush, then pulled them all the way down and stepped out of them. Finally, I was naked! I just STOOD there in front of a strange man with grey tape over my mouth and my hands against my sides, staring at the short-trimmed, dark brown hair on my pussy, figuring that he was looking at it too. Nobody said anything or moved for about 30 seconds.
It was VERY embarrassing, which was SOO sexy! My face felt literally hot from blushing. He told me to lay on this heavy coffee table like table, only it was higher than a coffee table. It was his workbench, which he had dragged to the middle of the room. Then he ordered me to spread my legs open, and he examined my cunt for a long time while I either looked the ceiling or looked at Diana, who smiled. So far, lying naked in front of her husband while he examined my cunt was the sexiest moment of my life.
STARGATE
After a few minutes, he started pinching it and pulling the hair on it. He pulled on the lips, and pinched the left one with his fingernails, which made me say “ow”. Then he picked up a real leather whip and whipped my open legs, and I jumped and screamed through the gag, YOOWWW! It was actually happening! I was finally being whipped, for real! I was SO excited!
He tied me with my legs spread open and my arms out of the way so I couldn't move, then kept whipping me over and over real fast on my hips and tummy and upper legs, but mostly on my cunt. And not once in a while, gently and fake like on porn videos, but he got a mean face and whipped me REAL fast, and angry and vicious and hard as he possibly could for, maybe, 30 seconds. THWAK THWAK THWAK THWAK THWAK THWAK THWAK…
After the first THWAK, I was stunned. I didn’t expect it to HURT so much. After the second THWAK I was panicking, struggling desperately to close my legs, and by about the fifth THWAK I began screaming those loud, high-pitched, frightening screams that women do in monster movies. After a while I couldn’t distinguish the individual blows, it was just one continuous hurting of me, and though my mouth and eyes were wide open, I couldn’t scream anymore.
When he suddenly stopped, it was silent and I realized I was crying. I was glad that the whipping had ended, but I was afraid that because I was sobbing so hard that Diana would feel sorry for me and stop the whole thing. Having been through it herself, she didn't. In fact, I looked over and she was SMILING!
When he was hurting me I was wishing desperately that she would stop him, but not after it was over. When it was over, I felt defeated and degraded and humiliated and dominated. I was burning with pain from my chest to my knees and burning with desire to be raped in my cunt. I felt a powerful desire to give in, to offer myself, to please him, to acquiesce. I wanted nothing but to surrender my cunt to this man who had whipped me, for any purpose he wanted to use it for.
I didn’t realize he had taken out his dick until he suddenly started fucking me. He thrust into me insanely and very fast , like a crazy man, and cummed deep into my belly after about 20 seconds. It felt SOO GOOD oh my GOD!!! Finally, I was being raped… and while I was crying!
It was only the second time in my life I had been fucked. I was the happiest girl in the solar system.
I felt his dick twitch while he pumped sperm into the back of my cunt for about ten seconds. Then he pulled his dick out of my body suddenly, without even looking at me, and turned away. He zipped his pants and kissed Diana deeply and slowly, and talked to her quietly for a while but I didn't listen. They were holding hands. They completely ignored me, gagged and on obscene display. Her husband’s cum was running out of my cunt and down my red, welted skin. I felt like I was part of god. And really, I was.
About ten minutes later, without talking to me, he turned me over and rubbed KY on the end of a two-foot long piece of broom handle, and pushed it more than a foot deep into my ass. Then as she was blindfolding me with a sleep mask, Diana smiled and said “he puts that in me too, and now I know what it looks like”. Her husband asked her what it looks like. “I didn’t know it went in that deep” she said, “and it looks submissive and real, real sexy!” I could hear them kissing. Then they turned out the light and left me in the dark, attached to their furniture.
God DAMN my ass hurt (it was up in the air). One end of the broom handle was sticking out and I could feel my asshole squeezing against it and the other end REALLY deep in my guts, behind my stomach. I could even feel that the end was rounded. I had NO idea your ass went that deep!
I was being left alone in the dark like an object in storage to be used later. I didn’t think it was possible for a girl to feel sexier. I peed. It was warm and ran down my leg.
They came back maybe an hour later. Diana asked me how I was doing and I answered “murmph-murmph”, so she ripped off the tape. OWW! I thought that was unfair. Is was her husband who was supposed to hurt me, not my friend!
I said "don't ASK me that anymore, just tell him to DO whatever he wants to me!" I was actually angry, because I didn't WANT to be consulted and interviewed while being raped! We had specifically AGREED that wouldn’t happen and I was wondering if they’d break any other rules (they didn’t).
That weekend, I never felt more free! I peed on the floor whenever I wanted (I was over a drain) and I didn't even care. I cried when I wanted to cry and I screamed when I couldn’t not scream.
I thought this would be a long essay but I can see that it's going to be short because there's really not a lot to tell. Also, I feel silly writing it. Am I REALLY going to post this online somewhere? Probably not, even though it doesn’t use my last name. I’ll probably chicken out and it will remain on my hard drive until my system crashes someday and then it will be lost.
Anyway, to finish this up, his friend came over, then more of them, and men fucked me and whipped me and burned me and stuck pins in me and stuck things in my asshole and left them there, and hung me from a black steel gas pipe in the ceiling and sucked my tits without asking my permission and clamped my nipples and cunt with clothespins and paper clips.
I didn't have to worry about shitting because four times, guys enema'd me before using the tightness of my asshole to masturbate with. And except when they hung me from the ceiling and whipped me almost to unconsciousness, they kept me tied to the furniture continually, without stop, from Friday night until Monday afternoon.
I don’t know if that sounds sexy or just sick.
I don't care though. Sometimes, you decide that finally, you JUST DON'T CARE WHAT OTHER PEOPLE THINK ANYMORE, like in that song on Quadrophenia called “The Rock”, where Jimmy makes this big decision to stop trying, and just BE.
I'm not sure how many guys tortured and raped me, since they came and went, so to speak, all weekend. But as time went on, there were more and more guys in the basement, maybe 8 at the max. I'm sure their friends told their friends and that's how there got to be more of them. I guess that’s an advantage to having friends.
No one was over about 35, but several were teenagers, and two looked 13 or 14. They weren't innocent children though; they were mean rednecks who hurt me and fucked me and used me just like the others.
Never in the whole weekend did they once advise me of what they were going to do to me. They just did anything they wanted to my body, like I was a dead girl or a sex doll toy for them to play with and hurt. In fact, once when I was laid on the table face up with my legs straight and my arms at my sides and a guy was squeezing my breasts over and over and another guy was sucking my hard clit, I let my jaw relax until my mouth opened, closed my eyes, and pretended that they had just strangled me and I was a dead girl body which they were using for a few more hours before dumping me in the woods for the dogs to eat.
That was the only time I cummed. Oh god, it was WONDERFUL! I never felt so much like a GIRL instead of a person!
HOW IT ENDED
When it was all over late Monday afternoon, Diana untied me and let me take a shower before I left. I had asked ahead of time for her husband to go somewhere else while I was preparing to leave, so it wouldn't be a "social" situation. He didn't even mind! I also asked her for Novocain ointment and a gauze pad for the burn, since It hurt to wear pants (someone had stolen my panties).
The very first thing I did when I got back to my apartment was strip naked and masturbate. For a long, long time. Most parts of body was still in pain, particularly my “female parts”. There were a lot of little red dots where I was stuck with pins, and the burn hurt a lot. But it was all fuel for masturbation for me, just like I hope it is for you. In fact, if I ever do publish this, my intent is to read it while I masturbate and imagine that maybe some guy somewhere is reading it too, a complete stranger using me all over again and we’re both thinking about it. At least, that’s what I’M going to do. I’ll do it at exactly 0400 GMT every day, at least until I feel silly about it. AUTHOR NOTE: That turned out not to be necessary. The first two days after I uploaded this, someone downloaded it every EIGHTEEN SECONDS! I can rub any time I want, and someone, somewhere is using me. This time, it’s YOU.
See why I can never share my feelings with people? ‘Cause that’s the kind of thing I think about. I ignore things everybody else pays attention to and I notice things you’re not supposed to think about.
One thing I notice when I go to the bathroom is that my ass hole is permanently stretched now. When I use toilet paper, I can push my finger way, way in, and it doesn’t get squeezed. It’s MUCH wider that it ever possibly could have been naturally if I hadn’t been raped in it so many times that weekend. You know what? I’m secretly proud of that! It’s like what they did to me then reaches into the present.
It never bled, probably because I was very very insistent beforehand about there being a LOT of KY used if her husband decided to do that to me. They SURE stretched it though!
I had told them I was on the pill but I wasn’t really, assuming one of the strangers would impregnate me deep in my body, and I could watch my tummy grow day by day as my rape continued to happen before my eyes. I got aroused thinking about how long to let it go before getting the abortion. The longer I wait, the more dangerous and sexy it would have felt! It would have been the ultimate of some strange man using my body. But to my surprise it didn't happen. It turns out that women can only get pregnant some times (believe it or not, I didn't know that. More likely, I was told once but didn't pay attention). My dad went crazy because he was in 'Nam and my mom was a drunk who never told me anything. She died, but not from drinking.
Maybe they should have used rubbers (not my parents, my rapists). I may have been stupid for not to making them, but I wanted to be fucked by naked dicks, not plastic dildoes. Plus, all STDs are easily curable except for AIDS, and the probability of getting AIDS from having sex one time with a white guy who's not a fag or a drug shooter is one in ninety-thousand. A lot of people don't know that because of all the (well-intentioned) hype by the gays. I did get crab lice, but that was easy to cure.
Another way that my torture and rape reached into the future is that I have permanent whip marks on the top of my breasts (and other places too), so I can never wear anything even slightly low cut in public for the rest of my life, unless I want people to know that I let myself be whipped really really hard and (presumably) liked it.
Maybe I’ll wear low cut blouses just for that reason! It would be a characteristically crude, bizarre, and ineffective way for me to communicate with other people though, and would probably backfire somehow.
Also, if I’m ever even partially nude with a man, those marks will be my way of letting him know that it’s okay to grab me, strip me naked, tie me face down to his bed, and whip me unmercifully until I’m screaming and crying into his soft pillow, begging to be brutally fucked. So if you notice someone like that at the swimming pool, follow me home and rape me. Just for god’s sake don’t ASK me about it first or I promise I’ll deny everything and tell you to get out!
THINGS I WAS SURPRISED I LIKED
Definitely, being branded. It sounds stranger than it is. It's really just like being burned while cooking at the stove, except 1) it’s by something with a shape 2) it’s not by accident, 3) it’s deep enough to be permanent, 4) it’s submissive, and 5) it’s sexy. Though they had touched my breasts and legs with cigarettes to make me jump, I didn't know they were going to burn me like they did. I watched them bend a coat hanger into what was supposed to be the letter "R", but the scar looks like a Chinese word or something, probably because I jerked around when they held it to my skin. They tried to heat it up with a cigarette lighter, but it just made me go “YAAAAW” and didn't burn my skin, so they took it upstairs to the stove. When they held it to me, it went “ssssst” and really, REALLY hurt and I screamed. I thought I could smell burning flesh briefly, but it was overwhelmed by the awful cigarette smoke. He said they branded me on my upper inside leg instead of my ass so they could still whip my ass.
They were SO kind and considerate!
Every time I look at the scar, my cunt gets wet inside, and when I masturbate, I touch it and it hurts, which makes the memory so much more real. I also feel the places on my ass where the whip tore up the fat layer under the skin. It's still distorted even though the skin is healed, though I doubt anyone would notice. It’s hard to tell in the mirror. I feel so proud of the permanent wounds on my soft, female ass.
By the way, YES these things hurt awfully and YES I would have begged them to stop if I wasn't gagged. In fact, I begged them to stop even though I was gagged. But when they did stop doing something, the pain lessened and turned to intense pleasure which, with the embarrassment of what it involved and the humiliation of having submitted to it, made me VERY wanting to be fucked.
I particularly liked it when someone would torture me and then IMMEDIATELY fuck me the moment he stopped hurting me. No matter how I had just been tortured or how hard I was crying, when they fucked me I always held my cunt real tight, as tight as I possibly could, to give them the most pleasure. Even though no one told me to, it felt like doing that was submission and obedience. Plus when I did that, sometimes they moaned when they cummed into me. It wasn’t necessary for me to squeeze when they used my ass hole though.
I also liked it when sometimes, after they cummed into me, they slapped my face and walked away (after one guy did it, they all started doing it). That emphasized that it wasn't love--that it wasn't caring and personal.
I also liked when they were just sitting around fully clothed drinking and talking and ignoring me while I was tied, gagged and naked with my legs held open by ropes, my hairy cunt exposed to them, waiting patiently and helplessly until one of them wanted to use it or hurt it or do something embarrassing and humiliating to it. It was theirs for them to use, and I wanted to them to do everything they want to it. All of their secret shameful fantasies that they never though a girl would let them do, I wanted them to do all of those things to it.
Before it all, I had been afraid I would get sore and stop liking being fucked, but that didn't happen. I figure I was probably fucked between 50 and 100 times in 2 1/2 days, but that's just a guess. Maybe it was 200, I really have no idea. My asshole got plenty sore though! Plus I specified ahead that they had to use a lot of KY (which I brought over but ran out of until Diana went out and bought LOTS more). One guy enema’d me and then pumped two WHOLE tubes of KY in my ass before he fucked me there! Then when then next man turned me over and fucked me on my back, the KY had melted from my body heat and the thick, gooey santorum was running out of my ass.
Earlier, another guy had squirted bottle after bottle of hot-water into my ass until I was moaning and pleading, and he couldn’t squirt more in without it squirting out at the same time. I felt the water stretch my intestine tightly and migrate to my right side, then up higher. I wondered if it would reach my stomach. He fucked me deep, deep up into my ass without letting the water out first, which hurt and gave me horrible cramping and I was afraid my intestine would break. He took a LONG time to cum. This was the most invasive thing that anyone did to me.
After he was finished and pulled out, the water exploded over the floor. Some of it even hit the wall. There was more than I ever would possibly have imagined, probably between a half gallon and a gallon. It continued for a long, long time until it was just a warm dribble. That felt SO good! Believe it or not, pushing the water out was one of the best feelings of the whole time. Then I just lay there and rested, and thought about what was just done to me, and that I had willingly submitted to it being done.
I felt SO happy.
I'm glad I didn't have a safeword because then it wouldn't be real rape, just a bullshit, safe, fake Disney make-believe game. I mean, I trusted them not to kill me or cut my face and stuff. Plus, Diana was my friend. And I figured that one guy might do that sick stuff, but ten were unlikely to conspire to commit murder when there’s no money in it
Also, if I had a safeword, I would have used it MANY times, so I'm glad now that I didn't. It would have been shameful. That’s also one reason I wanted to be gagged, so I couldn’t beg them to stop hurting me (which I was desperately trying to do).
I liked being suspended by my wrists onto my tippie-toes and being whipped HARD while I screamed and cried and everyone just sat around and drank and laughed. There was one time when one guy would whip me as long as he wanted, then when he stopped, another guy would start whipping me with fresh enthusiasm. There were about seven of them. Some guys whipped me two or three times. They whipped my armpits, my wrists, my elbows, my hands… literally everywhere except the soles of my feet and my head. I was whipped continuously by the same thin leather whip for probably between 30 minutes and two hours, until I was groggy, like being drunk, and almost unconscious. I think the only reason they stopped was because I wasn’t moving anymore. Then they cut me down and I fell on the floor. They pushed my legs open and they each fucked me in my cunt right where I fell. That lasted a long time too, maybe a half hour. I barely remember that part, except that I wasn’t crying or moving, I hurt all over but not any place in particular, and that the cement was hard but felt good because it was cold and wet.
By the way, when I was suspended (by my wrists or feet), they wrapped a small towel between me and the rope. One guy suggested hanging me by my neck but everybody else shouted “NO!” all in unison. That was kind of funny. See, they DO care about me!
I liked being fucked by two guys at once because it emphasized that I was being USED, not "made love to". Three was good too, but it was hard to pay attention to what was going on. I liked simultaneous ass and cunt better than cunt and mouth. They never did ass and mouth at the same time.
I liked being called “bitch” and “cunt” and “slutty whore” when they slapped me. I liked that they were uncaring when I cried.
I liked when they held me by my hair and fucked my mouth, rather than making me move my head up and down. It was more brutal and less loving that way.
I had never swallowed cum before but I liked doing it, not because I liked it (it was STICKY and ICKY), but because it was submissive and humiliating. It was like they made me digest their sperm, making the most intimate part of them part of my own body forever. How sexy is THAT!!!
I liked when they did something extra to me when they cummed, like touch my leg with a cigarette or squeeze both my nipples as hard as they can, making me scream for the few seconds it takes them to pump a whole teaspoonful of cum from their hairy balls into my battered cunt. I liked it if, when they pulled out, I was crying.
And I'm surprised that I liked being stuck with pins in my vulva (outer pussy lips). One guy stuck four thumbtacks in them before he fucked me, but that merely hurt like a toothache, not good like the pins were.
Once they were in, pins in my nipples hurt a LOT less that I figured they would. In fact, when they left them in while they did other stuff to me it felt REALLY good. I'm thinking of getting my nipples pierced, just so it hurts like that all the time. Pins pushed deep into my breasts felt good too usually, but sometimes they had that bad “toothache” hurt, depending where they pushed them. Beforehand, I was hoping they would have metal skewers and push them deep through the base of my breasts, but nobody thought of it, and after feeling the pins, I didn’t suggest it. If I ever do this again, I’ll suggest it ahead of time so that I can be sorry I did.
THINGS I WISH I HAD CHANGED
I wish I had said “no smoking” or that we had done this is outside in the woods or in an open structure like the barn where Diana said her husband had whipped her once.
I wish I had had a pillow under my head and my back when they had me tied to the furniture with my legs held open and my ass hole and cunt on display for almost a whole day.
I didn't like being hung upside down because it was distracting, and after a while I got a headache. And I was worried the rope would break. Plus, Diana told them "don't do that, it's dangerous", but I don't know why it would be, unless she was talking about the rope.
I liked being suspended by my wrists, but only for a while. It took too long for them to figure out to tie my feet to keep me from kicking wildly as I was whipped. Also, it cut off the circulation and my hands got cold and numb.
I didn't like being hit with anything wide, like a paddle (actually, just a piece of plywood). They didn't have a cat 'o nine tails or any other fancy SM stuff.
I wish that during it, the guys WOULDN'T TRY TO TALK TO ME!
God DAMN!!
Fortunately, most of them were cruel and uncaring, but sometimes one would ask me if I REALLY wanted it or if I was being coerced or maybe paid, blah blah. Particularly if I was crying. One asked me my name (against the rules) and tried to be my friend. Jeezis, what am I supposed to say? "Shut up and torture me, ass hole"? It really killed the mood!
I wish some of the guys hadn't smelled so bad. And I wish they would have washed their dicks before fucking my mouth, even just with a damp cloth. Though strangely, I didn't mind when they fucked my ass until they were about to cum, then pushed their dicks into my mouth and emptied their balls into it for me to swallow. I would have preferred that they didn’t thrust their dicks down my throat every single time, not because I gagged (I can control that), but because I like when they cummed into my mouth so I could lick the “guy clit” on the bottom of the head and feel the cum shooting out of the little hole onto my tongue, like a reward for me doing it right.
I also wish I had specified times to eat, as it was a big deal to get them to feed me (Diana fed me cold pizza several times while I was tied up and nobody was around to use me), but being real hungry while they had pizza was distracting and not sexy. Also, I should have specified that she offer me water at least once an hour, though eventually she did.
I wish someone would have figured a way to fuck me in my cervix and pump his sperm directly into my womb, maybe even making it swell and filling it up. That would have been the guy who deserved to make me pregnant.
I also wish that they had shared their beer with me, as they were all drinking it. Cases and cases of malt liquor with a black label (I forget the name), but all I had was water. They did pour it on my back though (beer not water). That reminds me, I also wish they would have hosed me down every few hours because I was all sticky and sweaty and itchy.
By the way, when you see girls in porn all covered with cum, that's fake. When you're gang-raped for real, the guys ALL cum in your mouth or cunt or ass, not on your stomach or face or tits. After you've been fucked like 20 times though, it does run across your asshole, down your leg, and makes a pool on whatever you’re tied to.
I also wish I had told them ahead of time not to torture my clit; it's too sensitive. And I was always afraid they'd cut a nerve with a pin or that a burn would leave scar tissue and then I couldn't ever feel it again, but fortunately, that didn't happen.
And I wish there had been a clock there. I know that in fantasies, everything happens “outside of time”, but when you’ve actually been really tied up for two days, you kind of wonder how much longer it will go on (even if you like it). There was no window, but I could tell what part of the day it was by how many guys were there. For instance, they left me alone in the dark for several hours in the mornings and I slept. It was strange, but made me deeply happy to wake up and realize that I was tied to a table naked in a stranger's basement and that I’ll be raped again soon. It was like waking up and realizing you don't have to get up for work today because you’re on vacation in Australia after winning the 30 million dollar lottery.
I wish I had had them sterilize the pins because my nipple got infected. I used antibiotic ointment but I was afraid I might have to go to the doctor (and what the HELL could I say?) Ultimately I ate a two-inch strip of the ointment and that cured it! In porn movies, they use syringe needles. God knows where you get them. I can see going to CVS and saying "may I please have 500 syringe needles? I'm going to be tortured all weekend by strangers but I want to make sure I'm nice and safe like my mommy would want".
I wish I had specified that they not pee in my mouth. I know it's sterile, but it was disgusting, not sexy. They told me to drink their piss, but I just pretended to. I don’t even feel bad about that, because drinking piss isn’t sexy, it’s bullshit. Thank god nobody crapped on me!
I liked it when they made me cry. Then, I felt like I was a real person with feelings instead of a broken robot simulation, which is how I feel when I’m around humans, or that I don't exist at all, which is the rest of the time.
And I wish I had said not to choke me with their dicks when fucking my throat, because I couldn't breathe for a long time and I had to bite their dicks to make them stop, which wasn't cool. I wish someone would have given me deep throat lessons so I could have done it right. I could have learned on my own if only they would have cooperated, but they just thrusted angrily, which was good in a way. Still I'm sorry I never felt one of the men cum deep in my throat, half way to my stomach. It would have been sexy to have been used like that. I knew a girl who had a tracheotomy and I was actually wishing someone would do that to me, then use my throat for a long time.
And finally, I wish I had specified that they had to stretch my asshole before fucking it the first time. It hurt too much until someone told me to "push, like you're taking a crap". The other guys said “woo-woo, how would YOU know”, and he said his doctor told him when he got a colon exam, but they still called him “Bruce” and “Maurice” and “William” for a while until they forgot about it.
The KY made it okay for everybody to fuck my asshole when they used a lot of it, but earlier I remember thinking that I can see why guys in prison don't like this. Eventually I liked being ass-fucked because of the extra humiliation and because they were fucking deep into my guts, not just my dainty feminine "vagina" like good little boys are supposed to do. Also, deep in my guts I could feel the strangers’ warm cum pumping into me, trying to make my body pregnant, which I couldn't feel when they fucked my cunt.
One guy tried “fisting” me (pushing his whole hand into my cunt) while the others cheered him on. But even though he pushed and pushed (and I screamed and screamed) it was too tight and he couldn’t. That’s too bad. Part of me wishes he had just FORCED his hand in, and sometimes I wish he had. But realistically, he really, REALLY wanted to put his hand inside me so intimately like that, it was NOT from lack of pushing very, very hard that he didn’t.
Actually, I thought I would pass out during that, probably due to low blood pressure from screaming, I’m not sure, but my sight got dark and my hearing got “blurry”, like underwater. It also might be the same thing that happened when I was suspended and whipped, and I got sluggish and slurry. I don't know why that happened either. I have heard that childbirth was the most horrible pain you can experience. I always thought that was bullshit but now I believe it.
When I think about it realistically, I realize that if he had pushed even a little harder, he would have split me open and the party would have been over. God only knows what I would have told the hospital… not to mention my mom. She put me in the mental hospital anyway when she found out about all this, but that’s another story.
THE IN-YOUR-FACE REALITY VS. SIMULATED EXHILARATION
There’s a subtle difference between something really happening and merely thinking of it as an intense masturbation fantasy (and for me it has been both).
Between the time Di told me about the things her husband did to her, and when I allowed him to do them to ME, I spent a lot of time thinking what it would be like.
The difference was that when imagining something intensely (while rubbing your clit or, presumably, the head of your dick), your mind focuses on one or two aspects of it, the details vanish, and the background becomes blurred cardboard. It has to be that way, or you can't cum. When I fantasized about it, I could imagine my legs held wide open with my feet slightly in the air and my hairy vulva obscenely exposed, or my wrists being attached to the ceiling and my tits and nude hips and bare feet all on display for the men to stare at before they angrily whip me almost into unconsciousness and take turns raping me.
When it really happened, it was just like that, yes. And the shame and submission and blatantness were more than I could ever have hoped for. I felt UNIMAGINABLY SEXY. I couldn't possibly BEGIN to describe it. The overload-embarrassment of being the only one naked in a room of MEN – generic, faceless strangers who were soon going to FUCK me -- was so intense that it made me feel drugged, probably, like heroin.
But there were a huge number of little things also going on, like the glare of the two light bulbs and the shadows they cast, the moldy smell of their basement, the "whoosh" of cars when they drove by, the feel of gentle air on my body and low rumbling when the furnace turned on, the salty taste of my tears, the fact that the air was comfortable for them but just a little too cool for a naked person, the “”bzzzzzt” of the door buzzer when another couple of guys showed up drunk to fuck some crazy girl who would let you do anything to her, the cold, hard concrete against the bottoms of my feet that made me aware I was bare with no clothes on like after I get out of the shower, except in a room full of strange men... I could literally list a thousand things.
None of these are by themselves important enough to make the experience any different from the intense masturbation fantasy. But the confluence conspires to give it a REALITY and a PRESENCE which grounds the experience as being in the same universe as boring, ordinary reality, like standing next to a telephone pole with rusty staples in it while waiting for the light to change so you can cross the street, looking at an old car in the parking lot and noticing that the windshield is dirty and the wax is faded, or looking at the old grease they've spilled on the parking lot in front of the recycling barrel behind Burger King.
I don't know how to express what I'm trying to say. These things, while not exactly distractions, gave the experience a texture and reality that are absent in dreams. Look around you now. (Go ahead, I'll wait!). Do you think there is any possibility you are in a dream right now? No, that’s ridiculous! Why not? After all, everything you see is something you've probably seen in moves or dreams.
But there's a sense of being a small person in a large 3D world that makes it obviously different from watching the same scene in a movie theater.
In the fantasy, you picture yourself lying on your back holding your legs apart and things being done to you. But when it happens, what you actually SEE is the ceiling. A better example: I had imagined a baseball bat being pushed into my ass and deep into my belly. But when he really did that with a broom handle, there were little specks of sand stuck to the wood, and flecks of paint missing making it rough, and I could feel them scrape against my stretched, asshole, and I could feel the larger ones scrape against my insides. You don’t notice these things when you’re just rubbing your clit, wishing it would happen.
In the fantasy, he pushed the baseball bat into my body at a constant rate. In reality, he stopped, then pushed, then stopped, pulled out a little, took a hit of his cigarette, pushed again, then pushed it in HARD -- eventually going deeper and deeper, and deeper into me.
I know this isn’t freshmen physics, but this is important to me. When I was lying in bed rubbing my clit, the imaginary baseball bat had no resistance; it just slid right into my backside. But when it was really done to me, some parts of the broom handle had more KY and other parts had almost none, and so had different friction along the length of the wood when my anal muscles squeezed against it. This caused the high friction places to pull my asshole into my body a little bit, and then release it to fold back out after the friction part of the broom handle was pushed deep inside my body.
And when simulating it in my mind, I couldn't feel a long object move around inside me, between my hips and behind my stomach, ordering me by its presence to stay still, nor could I feel the blunt rounded top poking and prodding the place where my colon bent to the right, preventing it from being pushed any deeper into me. Nor could I imagine the hard boner pushing the front of some guy’s pants as he humiliated me in this way, or the sound of him walking to the other side of the table, unzipping, and taking it out to fuck my mouth with, after he had finished impaling me internally on a long wooden pole.
An of course, when I was imagining it, I liked it and it didn’t hurt. When it really happened, I liked it and it DID hurt.
Those were just a few of the thousands of subtle but collectively impressive differences between being stripped and humiliated for real, with people watching me, and it merely being something to think intensely about to make myself cum. And I've only just mentioned 20 seconds' worth, but it was like that for 2 1/2 days, continuously, with no reprieve other than the few hours in the mornings when I could sleep tied and gagged and immobile, attached to their furniture in the dark.
Lying in my bed, I had imagined kneeling down, my head on the table and one end of a baseball bat deep inside me with the other end sticking out of my ass. What I didn't think about when masturbating was how juice would run out of my swollen cunt starving to be fucked, and down the bottom of my stomach, or how exposed I would feel while two married people just stood there holding hands and watching me be skewered in silence for over a minute as I obediently waited and prayed to be fucked by someone, anyone, even a dog or a negro.
It was the most wonderful experience of my life.
http://blog.myspace.com/fayekane
4/2/07
00.00.07