The Descent – Part I
I have everything I need and most everything I want. I have a respectable man with a respectable job. I have a nice place to live and a decent car. I have a benign degree on deck and respectable job prospects.
Yet I feel sure there is something that I am missing. I am missing out on something better, I think. I decide that I need to look into what that may be. It is not up here, where I am. I will need to travel to find it; I will have to go down. So I leave everything I have to search out what I do not have. I do not worry or mourn as I go. I assume I will be able to go back to what I have when I am ready. I don't know enough to know better that day.
First I find Christopher. I enjoy his good looks and youthful arrogance. I love his big hands, crooked grin, and battery-bunny accessibility. I smoke a little weed, but that has never really been my bag. The goal here is to have fun and to not think too hard about tomorrow. It is a very temporary and in-the-moment existence. I lose some inhibitions and I have a good time. But I am not through looking. I feel that there is more.
Somehow I find Rico. I am appalled at myself when I wake up next to him. I am even more appalled by the fact that he is not properly proportioned in terms of anatomy. I lose some face and quickly continue on my way.
I move on to Drew. I enjoy his velvety-smooth cock and am taught to worship it properly. I love the way he presses me into his service: pushing my limits but never breaking through them completely. I lose more of my inhibitions and learn to enjoy anal sex. I try some coke, but am left rather flat. I learn about trying to hide fear and how that never really works, so I become turned-off by the fear that I smell on him when we are around men who are stronger and he knows it. I am not interested in a fear-based existence – I can get that anywhere with anyone. So I move on.
Then comes Kane. He is one of the men who causes a fear smell in Drew. He enjoys using me as a cum receptacle whenever he wants. He even enjoys calling me that: his cum receptacle. He loves knowing that I feel degraded when he slaps me across the face with his cock and then grabs me by the nape of my neck to force his way into my mouth for a few strokes before he tit-fucks me. And then when he moves down and starts making half-thrusts at my pussy, which is red-poker-hot and dripping for him despite my humiliation, I can't keep from begging him to please, please, fuck me! please... He basks in my inability to exercise self-control because it means that I have given it to him.
He likes it when I'm moaning and writhing beneath him as he fucks me relentlessly, working orgasm after orgasm out of me. I pant and gasp for air. I scream and shudder, bucking and arching as I come again, and yet he does not stop until we are both exhausted. Then he likes to pull out and while kneeling on my arms so I can't move, he smirks as he releases his hot stream of cum all over my face, into my hair, onto my tits. He uses his still semi-hard cock to rub his seed into my skin, under my skin, where it will grow into me. I feel dirty. He knows that. He also knows that I like it.
He knows that every time I beg for his cock, plead to be fucked, desire to be used, get down on my knees, it is easier for him to bend me to his will. I know that the more I come to enjoy being his personal fuck-toy the more unsure I beome about Who Am I? And it becomes easier to let him figure that out for me than to take the time and effort to work it out for myself.
I learn how to manipulate as I am manipulated, and how easy it is to submit without conscious awareness. I am easy to keep in line because not only am I happy to service him whenever he wants me, he is also supplying me with a new love, a new need. I begin to confuse my love for the sex and dope with love for Kane. He knows this and unsurprisingly takes full advantage of it in working to keep me.
He tells me that there are safehouses all over town with women in them who have to fuck whoever shows up at the door or they will be severely beaten. There is a not-so-veiled threat in this, and I am lucky. He beats me in an alley and leaves me there. I lose more self-respect, most of it. Despite my attempts to move on and away, he is in and out of my journey for a long time, like a dark and dangerous spectre, just waiting for my soul.
Yet I feel sure there is something that I am missing. I am missing out on something better, I think. I decide that I need to look into what that may be. It is not up here, where I am. I will need to travel to find it; I will have to go down. So I leave everything I have to search out what I do not have. I do not worry or mourn as I go. I assume I will be able to go back to what I have when I am ready. I don't know enough to know better that day.
First I find Christopher. I enjoy his good looks and youthful arrogance. I love his big hands, crooked grin, and battery-bunny accessibility. I smoke a little weed, but that has never really been my bag. The goal here is to have fun and to not think too hard about tomorrow. It is a very temporary and in-the-moment existence. I lose some inhibitions and I have a good time. But I am not through looking. I feel that there is more.
Somehow I find Rico. I am appalled at myself when I wake up next to him. I am even more appalled by the fact that he is not properly proportioned in terms of anatomy. I lose some face and quickly continue on my way.
I move on to Drew. I enjoy his velvety-smooth cock and am taught to worship it properly. I love the way he presses me into his service: pushing my limits but never breaking through them completely. I lose more of my inhibitions and learn to enjoy anal sex. I try some coke, but am left rather flat. I learn about trying to hide fear and how that never really works, so I become turned-off by the fear that I smell on him when we are around men who are stronger and he knows it. I am not interested in a fear-based existence – I can get that anywhere with anyone. So I move on.
Then comes Kane. He is one of the men who causes a fear smell in Drew. He enjoys using me as a cum receptacle whenever he wants. He even enjoys calling me that: his cum receptacle. He loves knowing that I feel degraded when he slaps me across the face with his cock and then grabs me by the nape of my neck to force his way into my mouth for a few strokes before he tit-fucks me. And then when he moves down and starts making half-thrusts at my pussy, which is red-poker-hot and dripping for him despite my humiliation, I can't keep from begging him to please, please, fuck me! please... He basks in my inability to exercise self-control because it means that I have given it to him.
He likes it when I'm moaning and writhing beneath him as he fucks me relentlessly, working orgasm after orgasm out of me. I pant and gasp for air. I scream and shudder, bucking and arching as I come again, and yet he does not stop until we are both exhausted. Then he likes to pull out and while kneeling on my arms so I can't move, he smirks as he releases his hot stream of cum all over my face, into my hair, onto my tits. He uses his still semi-hard cock to rub his seed into my skin, under my skin, where it will grow into me. I feel dirty. He knows that. He also knows that I like it.
He knows that every time I beg for his cock, plead to be fucked, desire to be used, get down on my knees, it is easier for him to bend me to his will. I know that the more I come to enjoy being his personal fuck-toy the more unsure I beome about Who Am I? And it becomes easier to let him figure that out for me than to take the time and effort to work it out for myself.
I learn how to manipulate as I am manipulated, and how easy it is to submit without conscious awareness. I am easy to keep in line because not only am I happy to service him whenever he wants me, he is also supplying me with a new love, a new need. I begin to confuse my love for the sex and dope with love for Kane. He knows this and unsurprisingly takes full advantage of it in working to keep me.
He tells me that there are safehouses all over town with women in them who have to fuck whoever shows up at the door or they will be severely beaten. There is a not-so-veiled threat in this, and I am lucky. He beats me in an alley and leaves me there. I lose more self-respect, most of it. Despite my attempts to move on and away, he is in and out of my journey for a long time, like a dark and dangerous spectre, just waiting for my soul.
posted by desert diamond at 2:32 PM
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