#being unable to see
We got up to his room and he told me to take my clothes off. I stripped while he got some things together. He had a hood in his hands and asked me if that’s how I wanted my hair. Seeing the hood got me excited, so I quickly put up my hair. He pulled the hood down over my face, a hole over my mouth to allow me to be as useful as possible. I lay back, now unable to see what he was doing. The uncertainty that comes with having my eyes covered made me tremble. I really do enjoy not knowing what’s going to happen next, whether because I’m blindfolded, or because my partner is being unpredictable. It drives home the fact that I’m not in control and that anything could happen.
After the hood was in place, he leaned back away from me and pushed my legs apart. I thought he was going to start fucking me or hit me or something, but instead he spit on my cunt. I whimpered when I heard and felt that, since spit is the most gross. Which, of course, he knows. That’s why he did it. Next thing I knew, he was on top of me, his cock in my mouth. He fucked my face, his cock hitting the back of my throat and making it hard to breathe. He stopped, and then I felt him tying rope around my ankle. He bent my legs and tied them like that. When he finished, he said, “I don’t know how we handle being in public.” “Why?” I asked. “Because I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you.” came the ridiculously hot answer. Hearing that he’d been wanting to use me and abuse me, and that he’d been thinking about it made me a happy and wet little cunt.
Done with my legs, he spread them again and pushed his cock into me. I moaned, feeling his cock filling me, and heard him say, “Fuck, you’re tight.” He fucked me hard and deep, hurting me and making me feel good in equal measure. I whimpered, and he pointed out that it was my fault this was happening. He was right. I didn’t clean my ass out for him to use before I came over. If I had, he’d be using that instead, which would hurt less. I need to be a better slut for him, and I deserved the hard use my cunt was getting.
Legolas pulled out of me and made me move to the side of the bed, the ropes making that task more difficult and uncomfortable. I knew what was coming, and with as little hesitation as I could manage, put my head over the side of the bed. He shoved his cock into my mouth and down my throat, and I fought down the panic that always comes with being unable to breathe. He repeatedly pushed his cock in and out of my throat, and I did the best I could to handle it. He told me that he was being too nice to me. He’s always too nice to me, giving me his attention and being willing to use and abuse me. I’m lucky he’s willing to spend time on me when I couldn’t even come over with my ass in the state he wants it. Especially considering the fact that, as he pointed out, he could get a more conscientious cunt to come over instead.
He yanked the hood off at some point, and stopped the throatfucking to let me breathe for a little while. It wasn’t a break, of course, and he lay back while I licked and sucked his cock, listening to his breathing and the noises he made. He pushed me off and it was back over the side of the bed for me, his cock in my throat. Eventually he stopped. He went around to the other side of the bed and put on another condom. I looked at him and he said, “Did you think I was done using your cunt?” before starting to fuck me hard again. He was rougher this time, hurting me with hands while he hurt my cunt with his cock. He slapped me in the face quite a few times, and my left cheek actually hurt for a short time after he stopped.
I started apologizing for not preparing for him to use my ass and promising to do better. I was talking about how I deserved all the pain and suffering he was inflicting on me because I hadn’t come over clean, when he said, “We can make it hurt more,” and told me to turn over so he could fuck me from behind. I turned over, the rope making it difficult and painful to get and be on my knees. He thrust into me again, going deep and making it hurt a lot. I whimpered, but managed not to move away. I deserved it, basically asked for it, by not doing the best I could for him.
He flipped me back over, and continued fucking me as he took the rope off my legs. When they were free, he pulled them up straight and pushed them back, changing the angle and making me moan. He continued fucking me and then pulled out and took the condom off. He came all over my stomach and chest, and all the way up to my collarbone. I sighed, satisfied, when he was done, and looked at how much prettier he’d made me, covering me with his cum.
Perfect Saturday. Friends, food, fun, and fucking.
Saturday night, I went to a grand opening for a new play space. I picked up Reaction Junkie, Legal Lolita, and Repressed Boy and we headed to the play party. As we stood in line, we said hello to Legolas and talked. Finally, they opened the doors and we walked in. We explored the mostly empty space, poking around at different pieces of equipment, until Reaction Junkie looked at me and said, “You’re far too free. Let’s go fix that.”
We found a space and put down our stuff. Next thing I knew, I was against the wall, Reaction Junkie’s voice in my ear, asking me what a girl like me was doing dressed like that in a place like this. I whimpered in response, already starting the descent into a nice little headspace. He pulled out his knife and pressed it against my throat, saying “You’re going to do exactly what I say. Do you understand?” I said that I understood. He held the knife in front of my face and said, “Now you’ve seen this and you know I have it, so I can put it away and you’ll behave?” I nodded, and he stepped away, telling me to strip down to my panties. I hurried to comply, afraid of the consequences if I dawdled or acted silly.
Reaction Junkie came up behind me and tied a blindfold over my eyes. I’m very glad he did. Since we were in public, and especially because Legal Lolita was there, I would have had a larger part of myself than usual on the sidelines, observing, instead of being fully immersed in the scene and the headspace. Not to mention, being unable to see leaves me with a heightened uncertainty. Of course, the scene itself was making me uncertain. I had no idea what he had in mind, or even what he might do in a public space. At the beginning of the scene, I had been grinning and happily enjoying myself, but as it went on, the smile fell off my face, and the happy enjoyment shifted to fearful, pained, submissive enjoyment. It became an enjoyment of the reminder of my place, of his power, of his control, and the fact that this isn’t a game.
Once the blindfold was in place, he tied me with my arms behind my back. There would be no getting away, no fighting back. Not that I would try to do either. And not that it would even matter if I did try. He was in control of my mind, my body, and the entire situation. The next thing I knew, I was on the ground. He pushed the knife into me, and I felt the sharp tip digging into my flesh. As he pressed the tip into different parts of my torso, he mused aloud, “How much pressure do you think it would take to pierce your skin?” It was all I could do to keep my reactions to a mere tremble, trying hard not to move too much, not wanting to find the answer to that question by accident by shifting unexpectedly.
Reaction Junkie dragged the knife (Okay. I half believe he used the actual knife for all of this, but I also half believe he used parts of the knife besides the blade or something else for at least some of it but wasn’t and am still not sure and I don’t even want to know because I do like the uncertainty.) along my skin, pricking me with it. Sharp pokes like that tend to make me cry really easily, and I like to let people know, even people I know are okay or like crying, that I may cry soon, just in case they don’t feel like having me cry (yet). I told Reaction Junkie that if he poked me much more I might cry. He asked if I was okay with that. Normally, I’m fine with crying, but this would have been crying in a new place in front of people, so I told him “Let’s keep going, and if I cry, I’ll let you know if I need something else at that point.” He agreed and resumed menacing me.
He pressed the knife against my cheek and threatened to fluid bond me to it. As he pushed it into my skin, there were a couple points where I legitimately felt like it might cut me, or wondered if it was. I was strangely okay with that. I don’t like the idea of actually being cut, but if he wanted to do that, I would try my hardest to take it for him. At one point during the scene, Reaction Junkie said something along the lines of “Do you understand that you’re mine and I can do whatever I want to you and no one will do anything about it?” and when I started to say I understood, he asked if I understood it at an emotional level. I did understand, but not at that deeper level. Not until this scene.
Now I get what it means to say that he owns me. Obviously he can do whatever he wants to me. Not just because he’s physically stronger than I am. More than that, I’ll accept whatever he decides to do because all of me, and everything that is mine, is his. And no one is going to stop him because they would see that I want what is happening. Maybe I won’t want the particular thing at the particular moment. In a broader sense, though, I do want it because he decided to do it. My purpose is to take whatever he dishes out, and to give him whatever he desires. I want him to do anything and everything he wants to me, no matter my preferences.
