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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!
=========
…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 mush 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.
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 as 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 by 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.
MONOLITHIC
I have
this fantasy of lying on a bed in a room with antique furniture and florescent
light panels in the floor. I am naked
and my lover rolls up his sleeve and forces his hand into my girl opening,
painfully stretching it until his fist is next to my cervix, which is coated
with his cum, from his previous “sessions” with me.
Then his
fingernail tears the thin delicate tissue at the top of my vagina and pushes
his finger and then his hand through, tearing it more. He pushes my uterus aside; it’s not what he
wants. His arm is deep in my cunt to his
elbow but I hold my legs open obediently and stay silent as I feel him explore
my internal organs. They all belong to
him now, and he explores each one individually.
If he
ever pulls his arm out, blood will follow, so I hope he keeps it in me for the
rest of my life.
I feel
him cut a hole in my diaphragm and push deeper, deeper. It doesn’t even hurt
very much. Then, finding what he is
reaching around inside me searching for, he squeezes my windpipe and strangles
me from inside until I pass out, then graciously and lovingly grants me my life
and allows me to wake again. When I do,
I feel a tickle in my chest. He has been
patiently waiting for me while he holds my beating heart in his hand.
I am
ultimately vulnerable now; he owns me.
He looks up at my face; it’s an inquisitive look. I smile weakly, and
whisper “do whatever you want to me”. He says “and what do YOU want me to do?”
“Complete
me. Finish me. Please, I’m begging you to!”
I gaze
across my small breasts and hard nipples, over my bare tummy and trimmed pubic
hair and past my hard clit at my legs spread open. Fascinated by his arm in my cunt up to his
shoulder, I wait obediently to see what he will do to me. He holds my precious, priceless, beautiful
life in his hand, and I willingly gave it to him.
I can
feel his hot breath on my stretched, hairy vulva. I open my legs still wider as he licks my
clit and makes me cum, and squeezes my heart until it stops.
My last
words are “thank you…”.
Thank
you,
Techno
Faye
=================
PS:
While you
hide the hand lotion and wipe up the cum with a paper
towel, let me do something on the side here…
HEY MOM, YOU OLD DRUNK BITCH! TOO BAD YOU’RE DEAD SO YOU
CAN’T SEE THAT YOUR *GOOD* GIRL IS A SLEAZY, SLUTTY WHORE WHO’LL GIVE HER
SMELLY CUNT FOR FREE TO ANY MAN WHO WANTS TO USE IT! AHH HAHAHA!
SOMEDAY I
WILL BE STRANGLED TO DEATH BY A STRANGE MAN WHILE HE CUMS INTO MY TORTURED
NAKED BODY … AND I’LL LIKE IT! I’LL SMILE, AND THANK
HIM FOR DOING IT AS I DIE!
WILL I
STILL HAVE TO BE ASHAMED OF MYSELF *THEN*, YOU AWFUL EVIL, HYPOCRITICAL,
RELIGIOUS MONSTER??? I HOPE YOU’RE IN
==HELL== !!!!!
…sorry,
that just kind of happens sometimes.
It’s even more embarrassing when it happens in the line at the
bank. Please ignore it.
PPS:
After thinking long and hard (so to speak), I
decided to include my phone number: 202-456-1414. I'm doing it because I
want to be verbally and physically abused by a man, and this is the most direct
way to do it.
But I don't want to waste my time playing “mommy” to little boys and apologetic
whiners. If you want to suck my tits, you can’t be a baby; you have to TAKE
them from me. Plus, I wouldn't know what
to say. I only want to talk to a brutal man, a REAL man who's willing to
shout at me and take control, or I'll hang up and block your number.
To prove you're not a wimp, as soon as I pick up, before I even say
"hello", you have to shout into the phone "Listen to me,
bitch! I'm enraged, and I'm coming over there right now to get that
sleazy bush!"
After that, I promise you a VERY interesting conversation (wink, wink)!
PPPS:
Seriously
though, in the unlikely case you track me down, please don't ask me to have sex
(if you ASK first, it's not rape, is it?).
Plus, I HATE meeting people (and I mean that)!
If, in my
everyday life, I were just minding my own business and some obsessed weirdo who
reads this grabs me off the street, pulls me into a van, slaps me around, rapes
me for REAL, then dumps me bruised and naked on the side of the road at 5 am in
the middle of nowhere 100 miles away and drives off laughing, well... maybe
THAT would be okay.
PPPPS:
Please
stop sending me email about how sick I am, or how I need psychiatric care
before I get hurt because I don’t care. It’s a perfect example of why I don't
hang around people. One girl (a lesbian)
was FURIOUS that I had used the word “fag” in my little memoir. She even copied her nasty letter to the
manager of bdsmlib, as if that’s going to get me banned(!)
Here,
look what we famous authors have to put up with:
==============
From : Maaya Hitomi
<tgirl.maaya@gmail.com>
To : faye kane
<fayekanegallery@hotmail.com>
Sent : Thursday, February 1, 2007 11:58 PM
CC : webmaster@bdsmlibrary.com
Subject : Excuse me?
I have
cc’d this email to the webmaster of BDSM library.
Fag is a
very offensive term, do not use it in the future to
describe a homosexual man.
(Fag =
Homosexual is a FALSE statement)
I do understand
that you have autism but that doesn’t mean that you should be allowed to be
offensive to people of any race, religion, sexual variant, gender identity,
etc.
Unprotected
sex is unprotected sex. Whether with a virgin white 18 peak
of the line male or anyone else. Unprotected sex is dangerous and
shouldn’t be encouraged unless each feel comfortable enough with each other
I will
not sit idle with people of my community (LGBT) are being attacked with words
such as fag, and saying that HIV/AIDS is a gay/black disease.
Maaya
============
I mean,
JEEZUS! I write about being kidnapped,
tortured, gang-raped, and murdered, and SHE takes offense that the guys didn’t
use a rubber!
So I sent
her this:
==============
From : faye kane
<fayekanegallery@hotmail.com>
To : Maaya Hitomi
<tgirl.maaya@gmail.com>
Sent : Thursday, February 1, 2007 11:58 PM
Subject : INCEST
Dear
Maaya:
You’re
motherfuckin’ CRAZY!
Sincerely,
Faye
PS:
I’m
confused. Which homosexuals are not
fags? The ones that look like cowboys or
the ones dressed in biker costumes? And
the Village People guy that looked like a sailor, was he one or not?
=============
God, now
I just masturbated while thinking about being whipped by a fat, psychotic Jap
bull dyke!
I am SOO
a slut!
PPPPS: TOP TEN QUESTIONS PEOPLE ASK ME BY EMAIL
ONE
Yes, yes,
it really happened. I didn't embellish
it either, except that the part about being suspended and whipped to
unconsciousness didn’t happen to me, it happened to Diana. But everyone emailed
me for “More details! More details!” and
since it really did happen to her, I included it just as she described it to
me. And I am revealing that fact here.
When I
started writing this, I didn't even know I was going to put it online or show
it to anyone. tHOUGH
IT'S ALL LITERALLY TRUgod damn caps lock!
Though it's all true, I emphasized the stuff that I thought was sexy and
left out the un-sexy stuff.
That may
be why an emailer said my story sounds unreal, “like a cartoon”. But if I included boring stuff to ground it
in reality, it wouldn’t be as intense.
For instance, I imply that the room was always packed with horny men,
but there was almost always just me and one or two others, and long stretches
of time of just me alone. If someone had
had a camcorder there, it would just be another shaky handheld home video of
some girl being fucked. Nor was it
“magical” to any of the men. I was just
a crazy girl who won’t talk but lets you fuck her. Plus, they were drunk and
mostly didn’t give a shit and lots of times couldn’t cum. The profound cosmic significance of it was
all in my feelings. And that’s what
I tried to express here.
Something
utterly amazing to me is that emailers tell me they don't believe I haven’t had
sex in four years. I would like to
address this, but I don't know why people find it hard to believe. I’m
autistic. I’m homeless. I’m crazy. I smell like the kinds of cheese French
people eat. Plus, to me, being naked in the same room with someone of the other
gender is SO astounding that if everybody else didn’t do it like, all the time,
I would find THAT hard to believe.
TWO
No I'm
not interested in writing another story, because it would have to be fiction and I'm not
creative in that way because the story wouldn't be "bound" to
anything (so to speak), like an experience. I can't just make stuff up out of
nothing. For instance, I can do
technical writing because it's bound to the underlying device or software I'm
writing about.
THREE
West Virginia, near the Maryland border.
But I don't live there anymore.
For some reason, a lot of girls in that area let stuff like this be done
to them. Her sister and cousin did it
too. I think it’s something in the
water.
FOUR
The
reason I use the word “cunt” to shock people.
Why? Because that’s what it is. I
don't WANT to
create precious little infant babies in my vagina. I want to be brutally fucked in my hairy,
animal CUNT. If I could, I’d project filthy porn movies on the wall of the
subway station that they couldn’t turn off, and everyone would try to look away
and be embarrassed. And I’d scream “SEE
people? That’s YOU! Look at it; that’s what YOU are, and are
ASHAMED of!”
Of
course, since I’m too shy to look the subway cashier in the face, it’s unlikely
that I’ll actually do that.
FIVE
No, I
never saw any of those men again, though I talked to Diana on the phone a few
times. It turns out they were the guys
her husband worked with, the same guys who had done the same thing to her. She since left him because he killed her cat
just to make her cry. When I heard that,
I seriously considered killing him.
SIX
No, no
one ever shocked me with electricity.
That was probably good, as it’s the “toothache” hurt rather than the
sexy “whip” hurt.
SEVEN
No
offense, but I'm not really interested in reading your fantasies. Not because they're perverted (which is GOOD), but because they're
FANTASIES:
------->
"Don't DREAM it, BE it".
Go out
and DO that stuff; don't tell ME about it!!
Though I
admit, some of you write really well.
Post that stuff online, don't send it to ME!
EIGHT
Although
I'm sure you're a nice guy (or in a few cases a GIRL(!)), I don't want to meet
you at a motel for a "play session", pose for pictures, be in your
home movie, or any of the other creative stuff you request (see my blog). But mainly because I don't
want to meet anyone at all, for any reason, nor do I want to talk to you (or
anyone anywhere) on the phone. I
hate talking on the phone, I LIKE being alone because I have homophobia: I hate
homo sapiens.
No
offense.
I do like
my cat, if that helps!
NINE
I haven't
had sex since that weekend (yes, years) or go on dates or hardly talk to people
at all. I masturbate until I cum three or four times a day though. Since I don’t work anymore, I also learn
stuff and take naps all day. I am
completely naked all day, every day, sometimes for weeks at a time. It makes me feel sexy. I only dress to go to the store. The story of how
this can be and pictures of the strange way I live are on my blog.
I am
homeless and live in the woods under a plastic tarp. I hacked onto the power grid and use wireless
internet. Again, there are pix of my
little hidey-hole online. Early on, I
said too much, including what became clues to finding me, and now I am plagued
with stalkers. I hope to god none of
them finds me. If I suddenly stop making
blog entries, one of them did.
I like to
watch videos I download from pirate networks like eMule of REAL people doing
REAL stuff. I *hate* watching fake
moaning, and whore makeup, and the girl wearing platform shoes (what's with
THAT??), and the guy pulling out before he cums. I download free porn movies via eMule in the
background 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and process it all at once when it
stack up to, like, 100 gigabytes. I
review the movies quickly, deleting 99% of them after skipping through them in
about 10 seconds.
For more
free porn movies of every conceivable kind than you could ever possibly
imagine, run the public-license, free, file sharing software eMule, available
at emule-project.net. You can also get
dirty pix and any song you ever heard of.
Note to editor: before deleting that as an advertising link, go to the
site. You’ll see it’s not a commercial
site but a P2P program written by volunteers as part of the public open source
forge project with no adware or spyware or shitware. Also, I just use it and recommend it, I am not associated with it.
TEN
No, I
don't have a web site. I don't really
have anything to put on it. I’m certainly not selling anything (including videos,
pix, or my pussy). But you can look at
my myspace page; there’s a blog of my thoughts about politics and life for you
to ignore, and lots of “fuck” entries for you to masturbate with. None of it’s fiction, it’s just my thoughts about stuff. There is also two pics of my face, two nude
pictures of my body, and one pic of mister kitty there, but they don’t allow
nudity on myspace so they are both “artsy” type nude pictures. I have three
really low-quality pictures of my vagina taken with a cell phone too. They are on an image host, but the links are
in my blog. Registration is not required
and there are no advertisements there.
======================= FROM MY BLOG
THINGS MY FUTURE HUSBAND WILL DO IF HE REALLY LOVES ME
·
Not
allow me to eat unless he has masturbated into my food.
Ohhh GOD, that is SO romantic!!
I have to go masturbate now....
======================= FROM MY BLOG
To paraphrase Yoda: Do or do not. There IS no "think".
You wanna know how crazy I really am? As much as I would be disgusted by
a love struck, puppydog stalker, if one finds me, I will STILL do whatever he
tells me to. I can't explain why, I don't want to think about why, and it
makes me angry to even consider that I should have to explain why. It's
just who I am. In fact, it seems obvious to me that ALL women feel this
way, they just suppress it.
It's like a young cat, all spit and piss, but when you pick her up by the skin
on her neck she is programmed to go limp.
I went to a great deal of trouble to camouflage this place so that nobody finds
me. I hope nobody EVER finds me, so I can live my simple life alone in
peace.
But if someone does, I will be naked (like I always am, like now).
I will ignore his wimpy yappity-rap about how
good it is to finally meet me, and open my legs and lie there silent.
Eventually he will either shut up and go away, or shut up and fuck me.
If the tells me to turn over, I will. If he tells me to suck him to
orgasm, I will, and I will swallow his cum without being told to. If he
whips me with a thin branch, I will submit, and try hard not to move or make
noise.
If he tells me to walk through the woods to his car, I will do it -- but only
naked. He can drive me to his house where he can do anything he wants to
me for as long as he wants because he is my owner. He can even give me to
his friends. Hopefully, he will eventually bring me back. If not,
then for the rest of my life I will be his devoted, obedient sex slave.
I don't ever want to know his name.
The only time I will get mad is if he EVER tries to make me wear clothes, look
him in the eyes, or talk to him as a person. Then I will call the police
and prosecute him for kidnap and rape.
=================== MY BLOG IS AT:
http://blog.myspace.com/fayekane
NOTE: The shitty system only shows 15 items at a
time. Click "older" in the left column to read them all!
NOTE: If it’s not there anymore, then myspace
killed it. Email me at
fayekanegallery@hotmail.com to see where I moved it to.
NOTE: it
is not all sex. I also talk about
politics, how I miss college, meeting Leonard Nimoy, being stalked,
overclocking, and the problems encountered when evangelizing for Frederich
Nietzsche. And some fucked-up pictures. And a few of my favorite
pirated BDSM porn videos.
Okay,
it’s mostly sex.
===============
This old
man
He just
fits
He
squirts knick-knack on my tits
With a
knick-knack, paddy *WHACK*, give that dog a boner
Techno
Fay’s a roving loner
….Bye
now,
---
“Techno” Faye Kane, homeless smartmouth: the recursively enumerated,
insufficiently remunerated, double data-rated, triple
X-rated, psychoactive, hyperactive, hyperbolic, hypergolic, solid
gold, triple-holed, St. Vitus' dancin', pull down her pants and underemployed,
overjoyed, low-class, kiss-my-ass, masterpiece-makin’, masturbatin’, window
ledge over-the-edge, screwy, chiral, downward-spiral, ass upended,
fair-weather-friended, titty-peek girl geek.
3/18/07
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