#the super sadist

rapeandprettybows replied to your post “I really like the latest pics of you. You should show off your body more often, not necessarily naked, form fitting or skimpy clothing is good as well. Your writing is very good but as men we need more visual information to go along with your posts. Perhaps challenge yourself to post a least one pic with every update and punish yourself or have friend punish you if you fail. If you prefer a more direct command; more pics of your hot slut body cunt.”

Is totally gonna message the super sadist to encourage him to tell you to post more pics hehe cause you are so pretty!!

See, if a sweet, cute, pretty girl wants me to post more pictures, I’m going to do it. So, I guess I’m going to be posting more pictures, cute thing. Of course, having The Super Sadist order me to do it can’t hurt!

I was wanting something sweet and cuddly. Or, at least, that’s what I thought I wanted.

Instead I Skyped with The Super Sadist and got beating on my tits with a lighter and choking myself with a dildo down my throat. He timed me and told me to “Keep it in there, bitch” and “This is what you’re for” and “Don’t you dare take it out,” andwhen I fucked up, I had to slap my tits or my cunt. He stroked his cock while he watched.

I kept it in my throat for 20, 30, then 40 seconds, just a short break between each attmpt. I held it in with my hand as I listened to the barrage of verbal abuse. I teared up. I drooled on myself because he likes it, no matter how I feel about it. I threw up in my mouth a bit during play for the first time. After that happened the third time, I had to take the dildo out early because I couldn’t breathe and there was too much vomit in my mouth and nose.Then I really started to cry in earnest. 

I curled up a bit and cried hard into a pillow until I heard him say “Look at me.” I moved to look at him, and he told me to watch how hard he was getting off to watching me suffer. I watched him and thought about what he was masturbating to. The pain, suffering, humiliation, degradation. Soon my whimpers of suffering turned into whines of arousal as he stroked himself, finally cumming from all the suffering he’d watched me inflict on myself at his instruction and all the tears that had resulted.

I earned a “Mildly impressed,” which is high praise coming from him.

Last night I spent quite a while Skyping with The Super Sadist, a “nice” young man I met off tumblr. We talked for a long time, and he’s genuinely intelligent and interesting, which was fun. We talked about kink and sex and preferences and even feminism. Obviously we both think it’s stupid bullshit thought up by ridiculous cunts and I clearly need to work on wiping the last vestiges of it out of my system. I’m glad he’s on the same page as me on the feminism thing. I wouldn’t play with a man who wasn’t.

After a long conversation, I eventually asked “Do you want to play?” I guess he had enjoyed watching me get off on Friday night, when I first met him, and that he liked the look of me and was curious to see what I would look and sound like while suffering instead of cumming, because he said he did.

His first question was “What do you have around to stick in your butt?” I grabbed my bag of anal toys and showed him the four toys I have, which range from tiny buttplug to gigantic dildo I’ve only gotten in all the way one time. He seemed pleased to see the giant one and we decided I should clean up and call back.

When I came back, he told me I could work up to the big one if I wanted. I considered for a moment, since when I get fucked I don’t do much prep, but decided this time it would be a good life choice. It definitely was the right choice in this instance, because his nickname is The Super Sadist for a reason. I started putting lube on and then was a stupid, but properly behaved, bitch and threw myself under the bus by asking, “Can I use lube?” I didn’t have to say that. He gave no indication that he wasn’t going to let me use lube. There would have been nothing outwardly disobedient if I hadn’t asked. But I still did because I thought of it, and if I think of a clarification to ask for and the answer could make my life more difficult, I really should ask.

He thought for a bit as I sat there with fingers crossed. He told me that I could use lube on the smaller ones I was using to get myself ready for the big one. I sighed in relief because I’ve never actually had anything in my ass sans lube before. I used plenty of lube as I used my second biggest dildo to loosen myself up. When I felt ready, I grabbed the big one and, positioning myself so he could see what he wanted, I started to push it in. There was enough lube that it went in fairly easily, considering the fact that it has obnoxious ridges.

Finally, after a fair amount of groaning and grimacing, I’d pushed it in as far as it could go. It wasn’t entirely bottomed out, but it just wasn’t going anywhere. I told him it was in as far as it could go, and he said okay. I wanted to do my best, so I tried one last push and said “Yup. Definitely in as far as it can go.” and he told me “I believed you the first time.” I guess I don’t come across as a lazy sub who will lie to wiggle out of the last bit of dildo.

I looked at him to inquire what to do next and he said “Now take it out. Duh.” so I pulled the damn thing almost all the way out. He had me fuck my ass with it, pushing it in as far as I could, then pulling it almost out. After a little while he instructed me to pick up the pace, so I went faster. He seemed to be enjoying my expressions of pain and discomfort, and the trembling/shaking I was doing. It’s good to know that even at a distance I can still manage to provide entertainment via suffering.

Fucking my ass with the large dildo was difficult and uncomfortable, but eventually I got loose enough that it didn’t really hurt anymore. The Super Sadist noticed and asked if it hurt less. I was, of course, honest, and told him that it did. He told me to use a bigger dildo and I told him I was using the biggest one I have. He wanted me to use something else, but I said I didn’t have anything rated for anal penetration. Then I thought of a compromise that would achieve the goal of making it more difficult and painful, and I offered it right up to him. I said that I could wipe the thing off, since there was lube in my ass and on it from when I was loosening myself up with the smaller dildo. I knew it was going to be super unpleasant, but he wanted to watch me suffer more, so I also knew I had to do it.

After I wiped the dildo off, he had me push it back in. The first bit was still fairly easy since there was still lube in my ass, but after an inch or two, it was rough going. Still, I managed to get it in as far as it would go. I was wondering in what he’d have me do next, and I was worried he’d have me fuck myself with it more, now that they was little lube left. That’s not what he did. What he did sucked just as much, if not more.

“Hit it,” he ordered. I was a little out of it, it realized he wanted me to hit the dildo in, so it would slam up against me inside. I did so, but not as hard as I should have he told me “Again.” and I repeated my efforts, not improving much. We continued this for a while, him chastising me for hesitation and saying be didn’t want any of this self-preservation instinct bullshit. He’s right, of course. Having those instincts is fine, but when they’re interfering with a man’s pleasure, then they become a problem.

I kept up with the hitting, feeling it smacking against my insides, making me twitch and moan. Eventually, he had me pull it out most of the way, which sucked, since most of the lube was no longer slick. I wasn’t sure what he was going to have me do next, but I was worried he was going to have me shove it back in. He didn’t. He told me to hit the bottom of the dildo and to hammer it in. I started doing that, still with my ridiculous hesitation. I did start improving, though, especially when he told me that the timer between strikes started when he said “Again,” not when I actually hit the dildo. That motivated me to do better, to go faster. He started leaving less time between strikes, just long enough for me to catch my breath. That also helped, because I had to focus on the next thing I was going to do, not think of worry about the pain I was going to experience.

Next, he told me to slap my cunt after each strike. I took a deep breath and spread my legs a little wider. After in did this a few times, I thought back to Friday night with Marxman, and how he’d made me hit my cunt with the mean rubber paddle. Then I just dove head first under the bus like the over eager cunt I am and told him about the paddle. I said that I would probably be able to hit myself harder, or at least cause more pain if I used the paddle. Then I proceeded to give him all of the information about the damn tool, including the fact that one side is meaner than the other. Luckily, he must have been feeling generous, because he allowed me to use the less harsh side. I told him that telling him about the paddle was one of the dumbest things I’d done in terms of offering up data that would result in suffering for me. He laughed at me and agreed.

I started using my closed fist to hit the dildo, since that allowed me to hit harder. Each time, I would hammer it in, then strike my cunt with the paddle. I curled up a little and groaned in pain each time, but each time returned back to position as soon as I was able. I wasn’t doing that great with the paddle, so I said I should hit multiple times, since that would get rid of hesitation and I’d hit harder, or else I’d at least be hitting multiple times. I did this for a while, and then he increased the number of times I had to hit the dildo, and had me hitting my hole with the edge of the paddle. After doing this for a little, and after a particularly hard hit to the dildo, I felt lightheaded, whether from the pain or not breathing right, I wasn’t sure. He allowed me a moment to start breathing correctly. Then I kept hitting the dildo and smacking my cunt for a decent while. We did interrupt to talk a little and tell offensive jokes about women, but other than that, I kept hurting myself while he watched.

Finally, he told me to pull it out more. When I did, I managed to pull it all the way out like a dumbass. He started to tell me to push it all the way back in, but allowed me to avoid doing that this time, since I needed to go to sleep soon. He had me shown him how stretched I was by pulling my asshole open for him with two fingers. It was a humiliating thing to do, so of course I liked it. He told me I’d done a good job, which made me smile. I’m a sucker for praise like that from doms and tops. It motivates me. Makes me want to be good and push myself to do anything told.

Playing with The Super Sadist was an interesting experience. He’s younger than I am, whereas pretty much every one else I’ve played with is a year or two, or, more frequently, four or more years older than I am. I wasn’t sure I’d have the same urge to please him as I have with those older people. That was not the case. Although I did laugh at myself once or twice, looking in at what I was doing, I wanted to do a good job, to please him. Part of that was likely the fact that I want to be good when men want to use me, because that’s what my owner wants me to do. But part of it was my desire to submit and his attitude. He has a casual domination style, making me feel like he was amused, disdainful, uncaring, entertained at my expense, and maybe even mildly bored, all at the same time. I wanted to behave, to please him, to hold his attention. I wanted to do what he was telling me to do. Especially when he was saying “Again” over and over, rapidly, and when he was clearly enjoying my pain.

I enjoyed being useful to him, despite the suffering. It was a new kind of pain and discomfort than other people have given me, especially with the added challenge of having to do everything to myself. He was unmoved (at least unmoved to sympathy) by any of the reactions I had, and he clearly enjoyed watching my struggle, pain, and discomfort on a number of different levels. He’s a mean fucker, and I like it.

Just left Pine and The Teacher and some of our other friends from undergrad to begin a multi-mode, multi-system public transportation journey. I’m stressed, to say the least.

And, at the same time, happy and excited and full of anticipation. I have a feeling seeing The Super Sadist will be worth the trip. My cunt certainly thinks so.

I just got back from going to wineries in Sonoma with The Teacher and Pine. They kept giving me their extra wine because I am neither responsible nor was DDing.

So much fun!

Also, I’m making one of the best choices I’ve made in a while and I’m leaving a day early and gonna visit The Super Sadist and I’m absurdly excited! He’s so fucked up and adorable and clever and creative and sexy and I’m in desperate need of a good beating and fucking. Also I’m totes still tipsy.

I was bothered by this, like, latest kink shaming round, until I realized that their radfems. Not just that, they seem too be TERFs.

And hey, at least this time, I’m a victim. Like, almost every reblog is calling my partners abusive/horrible and is, like, dripping with handwringing and, like, totes real concern, like, over my well being. They really care. So much. Their, like, certainly not just using me too make themselves, like, seem compassionate. Most cert. And their obvi not ignoring my agency and the, like, reality that I’m a grown ass woman who can make her own choices about how she, like, enjoys having sex.

The, like, post I liked best was the one about how I seem too be involved in a “less abusive” relation now, as opposed too the relationship I’m in with my owner. No, no, sweeties. I just added people in addition to him. I’m still with him. In fact, I’ve also added additional partners who I’m sure these, like, people would consider emotionally abusive, at least. And no doubt that, like, were it possible too do all the things we’ve talked about doing (stupid long distance), they would consider them physically abusive, as well.

Honestly, I, like, think the idea that these men r in any way “abusive” is entirely laughable. Their intelligent, creative, caring people who I have excellent, hilarious, and like, insight ridden conversations with. They respect me, my intelligence, and my agency, like, a billion times more than the kink shamers do.

When I last Skyped with The Super Sadist (That was an intense session that involved him and Marxman and lasted about ten hours. There’s plenty to be said about it, but I wanted to share this bit first), he told me, “I think you should write dumber.” I balked a little, since I don’t want to make this blog unreadable for you folks, and we decided that I wouldn’t do it for lengthy pieces of writing, or, of course, for work. Primarily, I’m doing it when I text friends and partners. I’ll also try to write some more short things on here, so y’all can see how dumb I am.

It’s just little things, for now. He gave a couple examples: “u” instead of “you,” to/too mixups, things like that. I added a few more, such as your/you’re mixups, using the wrong its/it’s, their/there/they’re confusion, and using as many abreves as possible. These aren’t major changes, but they’re things my friends would notice, and things that bother me a lot when I fuck up by accident.

He was understanding and is letting me not do it with people I can’t or shouldn’t explain the instructions to, but really, I can’t think of many people I talk to regularly who I couldn’t tell about it. Actually, I may not explain it to everyone. I sent a text to Legolas prior to explaining it where I used “u” instead of “you” and used the incorrect “too.” It was intensely uncomfortable, even physically so. And it turned me on. A lot. (Oh fuck. I should probably start using “alot” instead. That’s going to be painful.)

So, I was already sounding stupid when I was texting people yesterday. Then, when I was talking with my owner (Who, by the way, when I asked if the dumb texting would bother him and offered not to do it with him if it would, replied “lol. Yeah, no, you’re not doing that with me.”), I confessed that I hadn’t followed a direct order he’d given me to finish an assignment. The consequence for that is another language rule. For the next week, in the same places where I’m writing dumber, I am not allowed to use the letter “f.” In addition, any time I have to stop and think about how to rephrase a sentence to avoid it, I have to insert the word “like.”

I was texting under those rules for a few hours yesterday and I sound fucking…well, I’d say “dumb” or “silly” or “ridiculous” or “stupid,” but I know the word The Super Sadist would use is “retarded.” I sound fucking retarded*.

*It causes me great distress to throw around this word like that. I haven’t used it casually, especially as an insult, in years. It even bothers me when The Super Sadist does it, just in general conversation. So, of course, he’s taken to using it frequently in reference to me. During our last conversation, he asked me about my dislike of it, listened to what I had to say, and then said, “Tell me you’re retarded.” I could tell what fun it was for him to see my refusal turn to reluctance turn to resignation turn to incredibly uncomfortable obedience as I sighed, whinced, and said, “I’m retarded.”

Last night, when I was Skyping with The Super Sadist, I learned a very important fact about myself: When I’m super high, I can stretch my ass out wayyyyy better than when I’m sober. I got four fingers in, down past where they meet my hand, and I got all five fingers in past the second knuckle.

I’m pretty pleased, as was The Super Sadist. He enjoys watching me distort my body for him, and I enjoy doing it. I really wanted to do a good job for him, so I pushed two fingers from different hands into my hole and stretched it out. Then I added another from each hand and showed him how ready and willing I was to open myself to him entirely. He growled and made deep, sexy man noises while he jerked off and came looking at me spread for him.

When I went to rinse the ashes out of my mouth, The Super Sadist told me to clean myself out so he could use my ass. It (oh gods this is embarrassing) took a long time. Too long. When I came out, The Super Sadist was waiting. He put a knife up to my neck, threatening me. I was immediately compliant as he duct taped my arms together behind my back. He made me get on my knees and lick his balls. When he was hard again, he pushed me over. My hands were behind my back, so my face pressed against the carpet as he pushed his cock onto my ass. There was no lube. I whimpered, but didn’t try to get away. There wouldn’t have been any point in trying, anyway. He fucked my ass hard, using my bound hands as leverage as he thrust into me. “I knew ass raping a feminist would be a good game,” he growled, making me squirm and struggle and moan.

He didn’t cum while using my ass. No, he had another, more degrading, more uncomfortable idea. He grabbed the copy of the SCUM Manifesto that I bought for him while in San Francisco and sat down in a chair. Motioning me to kneel between his legs, he had me use my mouth on his balls while he read to me from the book, laughing at the stupidity of a woman proclaiming the inferiority of men and reversing the genders to make the book an accurate depiction of reality: “The [female] is completely egocentric, trapped inside [herself], incapable of empathizing or identifying with others, or love, friendship, affection of tenderness. [She] is a completely isolated unit, incapable of rapport with anyone. [Her] responses are entirely visceral, not cerebral; [her] intelligence is a mere tool in the services of [her] drives and needs; [she] is incapable of mental passion, mental interaction; [she] can’t relate to anything other than [her] own physical sensations.”

He came on the cover of the book, and then had me wait while he cleaned himself off. I knew what was going to happen next. One of the first things I saw him post was about wanting to make a girl snort cum off of a feminist book of some sort. He floated the idea of doing it off the SCUM Manifesto and, in fact, that was the reason I bought it for him. When he came back, he’d cut up a straw. He used one of my loyalty cards to scrape the cum together into two lines. I hesitated and made conversation to stall, but eventually I had to do the inevitable.

While The Super Sadist recorded the event on video, I put the straw in my right nostril, lowered the tip to one of the lines of cum, pinched my nose shut, and breathed in sharply. I sucked up the whole line and then repeated the process for the other side. It wasn’t as painful as I thought it might be, but doing it off of that book while The Super Sadist recorded it and laughed made it humiliating. He went to have a cigarette and told me that he would let me blow my nose once he was done. I accompanied him, but decided not to take him up on that. Having the smell of his cum in my nose for the rest of the day seemed appropriate and fitting.

While we were outside, we were talking and he said something provoking. I jokingly went to punch his arm, although I didn’t. When I told him I’d considered doing that and then thought better of it, he said he’d seen that. Feeling impish, I said, “You should probably punish me for thinking about doing it.” I thought he might punch me in the arm or kick me or something. Instead, without warning, he socked me right in the stomach. Oof. I bent double, clutching my midsection, and looked up at him. He was laughing at my surprise and pain. It was ridiculously hot.

When he finished smoking, we headed back inside to get ready to go to dinner. We went into the bathroom to shower together and he told me to get on my knees. I thought he was just going to piss on me. Once again, I had underestimated him. This time he was going to do something much more violating and degrading and humiliating. He made me bend forward and spread my ass for him as much as I could. I winced and whimpered as he started pissing into my ass. It wasn’t just the stinging sensation from the urine hitting my roughly fucked hole. He was making me spread myself open for him so that he could use me as a toilet. I’m a toy for him and all of my holes are available to him for use in any way. I felt exposed and degraded as he finished pissing into me, leaving me face down in his piss.

We showered, got dressed, and smoked weed in preparation for delicious vegan food. Then we headed out the door. On the way to and from the restaurant we had great conversation about all kinds of things. When we got to the restaurant, we ordered our delicious vegan food. I got buffalo wings and he got BBQ tofu. Then, on the way out, I got a cupcake and a cookie. We shared the cookie back at his place and I had the cupcake in the airport. Everything was amazing and delicious and I’m so happy he was willing to go eat rabbit food with me.

While we were at the restaurant, I said something silly and he called me “Stupid.” Being called stupid in public like that turned me on like crazy and I could feel my cunt clench. I like being insulted and treated poorly in public, although I especially enjoy it at kink events because I don’t want to actually do anything that might make someone uncomfortable in a vanilla setting. It reminds me of my place, and I like that people can see that I’m the depraved kind of person who likes being treated like that.

When we got back to his place, we Skyped with Marxman for a little while. The Super Sadist was doing something on the other side of the room while I started the call. After we had talked for a minute or two, Marxman commented to The Super Sadist, “She’s flinching and following you around the room with your eyes.” The Super Sadist looked very pleased with himself as he said, “Yeah. She’s been doing that.” Being in that state of mind suits me quite well. Having a heightened awareness of him and his movements means that I’m in a good mental place, that he’s been hurting, using, and scaring me in the right ways.

The Super Sadist started hitting me, and, after we got off Skype, he “forced” me to smoke more pot than I had been. We both got rull high. We cuddled and fucked and cuddled. While we were cuddling and waiting for the taxi to come take me away, we were looking at each other and I was actually making eye contact. Normally I don’t, not for a long time, but I felt comfortable with him. He noticed the change and said, “I think this is the longest you’ve made eye contact with me.” I was being silly, so I replied, “It’s cuz I’m not scared of you any more.” He looked at more more intensely, and I kept it up until he broke me by saying, “Is it too gay if I tell you you have really pretty eyes?” The ridiculous way he’d phrased it, and the compliment itself, made me giggle and look down, feeling embarrassed in an adorable, happy sort of way.

Finally the taxi came and we said our goodbyes. I was sad to leave, but very, very glad that I decided to make the trip there. I had a fuckton of fun, was happy to have been useful to my new owner, and really enjoyed getting to know him even better.

I managed to wake up before The Super Sadist on Sunday. I laid there for a little while, trying to decide if it was late enough to try to wake him up with a blow job. I determined that it was, in large part because I didn’t feel like waiting any longer to get my mouth on him again. I pulled down the blanket and was just starting take him into my mouth when he pushed at me and rolled away from me onto his side. I giggled a little at his sleep-rejection and considered trying again. I decided not to, because, although I knew he had very enthusiastically consented to getting a blow job to wake up, I’m still not comfortable pushing that on someone who is actively rejecting it.

I tried to go back to sleep, but he was being a huge bed hog. Which, obviously, is his right as a man. I was lucky he allowed me to sleep in the bed, considering sleeping on the floor would be perfectly fitting for a little bitch like me. Eventually, I went to the couch and half-slept there for a little while until he woke up and came out. I told him what had happened, with him rejecting the oral sex alarm clock, and his reaction was basically, “Damnit!” Looking back, I feel bad that I didn’t immediately drop to my knees and suck him off then and there. We had breakfast and talked about what we were going to do that day. The Super Sadist described our plans by saying, “I was thinking I’ll beat you and then we go get vegan food.” Seriously, y'all, I get used by the best men.

Before the beating began, we talked for a little. At some point, I admitted in an embarrassed voice to liking something I feel like I shouldn’t like. I think it might have been that I enjoy when he calls me dumb. He responded, “I know.” He says those words with this tone…I can’t explain it very well. It’s a combination of understanding, condescension, and amusement. I love it. It makes me feel like he gets where I’m coming from, and, at the same time, it makes me feel exposed and vulnerable, knowing that he can read me so well. All of me is open to him, available for his use, even my inner thoughts and reactions. And of course, when I told him I like it when he says that, he looked at me and said, “I know.”

We finished talking, and The Super Sadist cleared space so we could settle in for a long beating session. He had me hands and knees on the floor, ass in the air. I closed my eyes and listened to him move around, trembling slightly in anticipation. He started beating me, warming me up at first, and then hitting me harder. He struck at my ass and thighs. He beat my shoulders. Hands and fists and feet, elbows and knees. Implements. A dowel, a metal rod, a broken off mop handle. A riding crop. His belt. Whipping me with rope. Next, I bent over the couch and he continued the pounding, focusing on my ass and thighs. As he started punching them, I started to moan. There were a couple times his fist hit the back of my upper thighs, I almost felt like I could have cum. Hands are my favorite things to get beaten with. It’s personal and intimate and degrading and insulting. I love it.

When he was finished (for the moment) with my ass and the backs of my thighs, The Super Sadist told me to turn around so he could start in on my tits. Before he began, I said to him, “You know how I don’t normally lube much?” He said yes, and I told him he should feel my cunt, that I really enjoy having someone hurt me, feel how wet I am, and then make fun of me for it. Most of the time, even when I’m very turned on, I don’t get very wet. This time, however, when he put his hand between my legs, he could feel my sopping wet cunt. I think he was prepared to make a mean or teasing remark about how wet I was for my benefit, since I’d said I enjoyed it, but instead he said, “This is actually pretty ridiculous.” I blushed and looked down.

Before I recovered from being identified as a painslut, he started hitting my tits. He slapped them, punched them, smacked them. I tried to keep my hands behind my back and give him the access that is his right. At one point, it got to be so much that I leaned into him and pressed myself against him, hoping to escape the beating. Instead, I got even harder punches in the tits, and a couple times in the ribs. I thoroughly deserved those. I shouldn’t have moved. Eventually, though, I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him and shaking, and begged him for a break, to stop. He didn’t have to agree, but he kindly did.

I had some water and watched him prop a window open and light a cigarette. Before this point, he had been smoking outside, like he always does. This change let me know I was in for a treat. We’d talked about me serving as an ashtray for him, which is a bit of play I’ve wanted to try for a while now. He had me kneel before him, mouth open, as he started smoking his cigarette. When he was ready to tap the ash into my mouth, I stayed as still as possible and closed my eyes, afraid of being burned. I felt the heat of the cigarette near my mouth, then tasted and felt the ash fall onto my tongue. He smoked the whole cigarette using me as his ashtray. He paused to take a few pictures, each one meaning the lit cigarette was near my mouth longer. He finally finished, but waited a little while before giving me permission to go spit it out and wash out my mouth, extending the experience. Finally, he let me rinse out and start to get ready for my next use.

When we got back to The Super Sadist’s apartment, we relaxed for a little while until he decided that it was time for him to use my ass. I cleaned myself out for him (I’m still embarrassed about talking about this subject, by the way.) and came back into the room. He had me head down, ass up. While lubed up his cock, I pushed a couple fingers in and out quickly. He grabbed me and pushed himself into me. I could feel him stretching me out, but it wasn’t toooo painful. In fact, he said it was easier to push into my ass than my cunt. Like Legolas says, I have a “greedy ass and a shallow cunt.” The Super Sadist fucked my ass hard for a while, enjoying his first use of one of the new holes that belong to him.

When he was done with my ass, he pulled out and told me to suck him off. I balked and asked if I could take off the condom. He gave me a look, and then I guess decided to be nice to me, because he said “Take it all the way in once with the condom, and then you can take it off.” That was more than fair, considering the fact that I shouldn’t be hesitating at something so simple as ass to mouth when I’d spent time between his legs, licking his ass. I took his cock all the way into my throat, pushing myself to bottom out. When I came back up, he took the condom off and pushed me back down.  I sucked his cock and then licked his balls and ass until he came.

We took a little breather, and then he decided it was time to take some embarrassing pictures of me. He put a hood on me, added a dental gag, and made me hold the SCUM Manifesto in front of me. Then he used my mouth like that. Now that was interesting. It was both easier and harder than a normal blowjob. I didn’t have to worry about my teeth, really, but I also couldn’t use my tongue, and there was no closing my mouth. Finally, he made me spread my ass for him to look at. He knows I hate inspection-type things. Of course, I hate them in a way that makes my cunt hot. He knows that, as well.

When he was done with the pictures and using my gagged open mouth, we decided to Skype with Marxman. Fun fact: It’s pretty much because of him that The Super Sadist and I got together and that I ended up visiting in him. He very much played matchmaker. (So domintaipei is the one you have to thank, littlefeministbitch/The Super Sadist shippers.) The very least we could do was give him a bit of a show. We talked for a little while, and I cuddled up next to The Super Sadist, being my adorable self. They were talking, and I wasn’t reeeeally paying attention to where the camera was pointed at our end, so when I bent my head down to take The Super Sadist’s cock in my mouth, I didn’t expect Marxman to comment right away.

I grinned when I heard him call me out, but didn’t stop. To the contrary, I started putting on more of a show. I was focused on what I was doing with my tongue, my lips, my hands. I heard Marxman ask in a mildly doubtful tone, “She any good at that?” Like he thought I might be mediocre at best. Of course that turned me on a bit. “Shockingly good,” responded The Super Sadist turning me on even more and making me very happy. I love giving blowjobs and licking balls and ass, especially when the person I’m servicing reacts as much and as positively as The Super Sadist did.

After a little while, I came off his cock, and he started hitting my thighs. I moaned with that wonderful combination of pleasure and pain. Marxman excused himself not long after, and I panted a goodbye to him. The Super Sadist continued hitting me for a while, and then told me he was going to put makeup on me again. He’d done it the first night. It embarrasses me both because I don’t ever wear makeup and because he’s legit better at it than I am. So it both invalidates the way I present myself in everyday life, and illustrates my failings as a proper fucktoy. So of course it makes me squirm with arousal.

Disclaimer for the next bit: For choking, I often, although not always, use a secondary safeword that consists of my hand around their wrist, and removal of that hand indicates “Red.” With blood chokes, which is what we were doing, I am also still capable of speaking and using a verbal safeword as the main safeword. In addition, The Super Sadist was paying very close attention to me the entire time and, by this point, had a good grasp of what it looks like when I go out. We were also still at an early stage in terms of what would get him to stop doing things. Long story short, I was never without a way to communicate I needed him to stop doing something. Actually playing without safewords is tricksy and not a good choice except under specific circumstances.

Once he’d made me pretty, it was time to make me dumb. He wrapped a hand around my throat and squeezed, making me thrust my hips and whimper. Then he pulled me over and put his arm around my throat, making it easy for him to cause me to fade. He told me to give into the fog. He pointed out his power over me. How easy it would be for him to just keep squeezing until I was actually dumb. I had my hand on his wrist and let go. He stopped choking me and checked in. I was perfectly fine and ready for more, so we continued in that way for a while. He got me very close to going out several times and sent me all the way out at least once. Then the game changed.

His arm was around my neck and I felt myself going fuzzy. I decided to drop my hand. He didn’t stop. I thought maybe he hadn’t realized what I was doing, so I grabbed his arm and then let go. His hold around my neck didn’t loosen at all. I pulled at him, started to struggle, feeling a panic rising. He moved his arm, and I gasped, although I’d been able to breathe the whole time. My mind was fuzzy still, but now it was from arousal, not lack of blood to the brain. My hips bucked on their own as I said hazily, “Yer supposed ta stop when I move my hand away.” “I know,” he said in that way he says things. I whimpered and moaned, which thoroughly undermined my response of “That’s baaaad.” We both knew how incredibly turned on I was. It wasn’t the same as playing without a safeword, because I still had one, but it was a rush that was similar to how I imagine playing without a safeword would feel.

By the end of the evening, he’d put me all the way out at least twice, and gotten me very very close a few more times. The final time I came to, I realized how completely exhausted I was. I told him I was done, and we got ready to go to sleep. We crawled into bed and cuddled up with each other. Hee. I was the big spoon, and I put my arm around him as I passed the fuck out, already looking forward to the next day.

dumbbigtittedslut wrote something that really made me think a lot about my consensual misogyny play/misogyny kink. Before I go into my navel-gazing, I wanted to make sure to say that this is super well-written and, if I was in a different place with my kinks, would have turned me on like whoa. DBTS, you’re an excellent writer.

As I wrote in an earlier post, I haven’t been doing much consensual misogyny lately. I’m not entirely sure why, but I think a large part of it is that the person I did the most intense play of that kind with was MLAM, and we basically stopped playing together. The Super Sadist and I also played with consensual misogyny, but in a very different way than I did with MLAM, with a different focus, and we’ve both gotten busy. The Marxist poked at that button, and did so well, but we don’t play anymore. Legolas and I are both into it, and we still use it, but, again, in a different way than I engaged with it with MLAM. It’s definitely not an all-consuming context that seeps into most things I do.

I’ve been realizing (and this post really drove the point home) that in addition to not doing very much of it, I also haven’t been getting turned on by it or masturbating to it, which, of course, plays back in to not doing it as often with others. I’m sure one reason is the simple fact that I haven’t been playing that way, and have been engaging lots of other kinks that draw my focus, like the death threats, violence, pregnancy risk/forced pregnancy, weapons, gaslighting, being owned, abuse fantasies/abusive relationship kink, etc. Some of those do draw from consensual misogyny and have threads of it running through, especially the pregnancy risk/forced pregnancy, ownership, and mentally/emotionally/physically abusive relationship kinks, but they aren’t quite the same.

Another part of it is that there were aspects of misogyny kink that always made me a little uncomfortable (especially people I don’t “know”/follow reblogging my stuff and adding their own comments, and even more so when they have no disclaimers in their info), and without people helping me to push past that, or use it against me, the discomfort has increased, and not in a sexy way. I always saw playing with misogyny as something I did as part of my feminism, taking the fucked up parts of society and turning them to my purposes, taking away their power. When I’m not actively participating by writing things myself, having a partner encourage me to write/think/speak about it or within the context of it, having a partner, or someone I know or at least whose tumblr I enjoy say and do things to me, or having someone give me a misogyny kink context to consume things from, it feels much more like I’m just seeing trying to be edgy, run of the mill sexists writing things. That’s not hot; it’s icky and kinda boring.

Like I said, the context MLAM created was a heady thing, and I feel the urge to see if I can recapture some of those intoxicating feelings. If it works, great, if not, that’s cool, too. I’ll talk to some partners about it, of course, ask if they’ll use more misogynistic language when they talk to me, see if they’re interested in having me be polite to men who say stupid shit to me or, at least, ask their permission before flaming them, and/or do other things that create more of a context outside of just playtime. I’m not expecting, and don’t necessarily even want, it to be like it was with MLAM, but having a consensual misogyny headspace I can slip into and use to contextualize other kinks is a useful thing. It’s not urgent, and before/as I’m doing that, I’ll do some of my own work making misogyny hot again.

There are a number of things I can do myself. I’m going to try to write more captions and have more fantasies that draw from my misogyny kink. I’ll especially try to use the language that used to really get me going. Fucktoy, cunt, bitch, fuckhole. Talk about the fact that what I’m for is to be used by men, that all women are for that, some just are smart enough to know that fact. Remind myself that I should be grateful for anything a man is willing to do to me, whether it’s fuck my cunt or as, use my mouth, cum all over my face, or even just use me as a urinal. Keep in mind that I’m a fucktoy for the pleasure and entertainment for all men, and especially for the men who own me or use me on a regular basis. Admit that I deserve all the pain and punishment and suffering those men generously inflict upon me.

Hell, it’s already working a bit. Writing this last bit did indeed make my fuckhole clench.

I woke up Saturday morning grinding against The Super Sadist. I don’t know who started it, but it did mean I didn’t wake him up with a blowjob. Oops. I’m sure he was terribly disappointed. When we were both completely awake, he said, “I think I should beat you while you read me the stupid things people wrote on your post."  He was referencing the invasion of context-ignoring, kink shaming radfems who had found my face bruise post and were reblogging it and leaving paternalistic, agency-denying, violently anti-dom comments on it. I’d offered the idea of getting hit once for each stupid comment, but I liked his modification even better, and excitedly agreed to the game.

I grabbed my phone and lay on my stomach, giving him access to my ass and thighs. Opening up the post, I started reading. "Who the fuck thinks they are in a healthy relationsh-…” I was interrupted by the feel of his fist connecting with my flesh. He started punching and smacking my ass and thighs, which is my favorite kind of and location for impact. I continued reading the comments, their words punctuated by my moans and gasps as he kept beating me. Feeling him use his hands to hurt me while we talked about, were annoyed by, and expressed amusement at the shamey comments helped remind me that what they say doesn’t matter. What matters is what I enjoy posting and, more importantly, what the men who use me enjoy doing to me and reading about.

When I finished reading the comments, he had me shaking a little, from both shame and arousal. Laying back, he had me use my mouth on him. I had just started the blowjob when he had an idea. He grabbed a belt. I looked at him, not wanting to be choked while sucking cock. He put the end of the belt through the buckle, holding the loop in the air. “Put your head through,” he instructed. I hesitated and whined, but then he gave me a look. I reluctantly put my head through and he gently pulled my hair out from under the belt before tightening it around my neck.

He pulled me down into his crotch and I wrapped my lips around his cock. At first, he mostly used the belt to choke me, but as he continued using my mouth, he started using it to control me and my movements. I took as much of him as I could, forcing myself down, trying to open my throat. I choked on his cock and started to pull up. He held my head down and told me to “Keep it in, bitch.” I pulled up, but his hand kept me down longer, a beat or two beyond my comfort level. When he let me up, strings of sputum followed me, and I gasped for air. We did this several times until he finally took the belt from around my neck.

“I have an idea,” he said, he stood up. I made to do the same, but he said, “Crawl.” He grabbed a hunk of hair and half-pulled, half-led me to the bathroom on my hands and knees. He sat down on the toilet. “Now I can be as rough as I want.” I hesitated, not wanting the humiliation of sucking his cock over the toilet, but then my head was forced back onto his cock and he roughly fucked my face. He pushed my head down, his cock deeper than it had been before, and I gagged. He didn’t let me up and I threw up a little. When he finally let me up, I said, “I threw up” in a pathetic little voice. “I know,” he responded, not a hint of mercy. He continued using my mouth, and when he was ready to cum, he had me lick his balls while he stroked his cock. He growled out insults and degradation as he came on my face and in my hair, just like a desperate cumslut like me deserves.

He told me to get in the tub, and I knew what was going to happen next. I kneeled, and he stood over over me, cock in hand. I looked down and shut my eyes as he pissed in my hair. The next expected command came. “Open your mouth.” I complied, and tasted the warm, salty liquid hit my tongue and felt it spray over my face. When my mouth was full, I closed it, swallowed, and opened it again without being told. “Did you swallow?” he asked. “Yes, mister,” I answered. I earned a “Good girl” for being such an eager, disgusting little pisswhore.

After we both cleaned up and got dressed, we went to the store for groceries and for an enema I could empty out and replace with water so that he could use my ass. I also bought condoms at the pharmacy and The Super Sadist went outside to smoke, leaving me to buy condoms and an enema. And, of course, the condoms wouldn’t ring up, so I had to stand there, somewhat embarrassed at the obviousness of my purchases. We got Chipotle (yay!) and walked back to his place. As on the way to the store and on the train, we talked about all sorts of things. Obviously, I’m not good for much besides fucking and beating, but I think we both enjoyed the conversations we had. We have similar ideas on a lot of topics and seemed to be able to figure out where the other was coming from pretty easily, which is always nice to find in a partner. When we got back to his place, we relaxed for a little while, and then it was time for the degradation, humiliation, and pain to continue.

Me Wednesday night: *Walks into happy hour, walks out an hour and a half later with a date with a pretty boy planned for Saturday.*

Puppy is adorable as fuck, has gorgeous eyes, and is a sub-leaning switch who likes pretty much all the same things I do, including receiving anal. I’m going to hurt him, belittle him, engage in some consensual misandry, and fuck his ass. Not all on Saturday, though. Saturday we’re gonna have Fro Yo and smoke some weed. And probably make out and stuff.

Afterwards I went over to Legolas’ place and met his other fucktoy, Furby.  We all talked for a while and then he got sleepy and kicked us out.  But she and I went and got food and she’s fantastic and adorable and we talked and we’re gonna hang out and do friend things! Like how people do. (Hahaha it’s funny because fucktoys aren’t people.)

Then when I got home I Skyped with Marxman and The Super Sadist for a while and then entertained them by filling my ass with my big dildo, choking on another dildo, and occasionally being told to hit the one stretching out my ass.

Andandandand! The Super Sadist gave me an assignment! Y’all know how I love assignments. I have to keep the big dildo in my ass for at least five minutes every day for a week.

It was a good night.