The quiet space of being an object

It began as an intense abuse and ended in silence. They were torturing her, throwing her around, exposing and humiliating her. They were causing her pain or pleasure at their whim. They were using her for their entertainment. And when they would get tired of the play, they would leave her tied up and disoriented and start kissing and pleasuring each other. Becoming, what it seemed like, completely oblivious to her existence. 

Most of those moments were short and it was a perfect time for her to catch a breath. She didn't even have much time to think, but she did have time to feel embarrassed and out of place. “What am I supposed to do now? Am I allowed to watch them? Do I want to watch them?” she thought. It felt like being a witness to something very intimate that she shouldn't be a witness to. The fact that they've left her in the same room did not mean to her that she was also allowed to stalk them. Besides, she was already embarrassed enough by being left tied up and exposed. Watching them being intimate with each other would only embarrass her more. 

After each short break, they would come back to her, their entire attention directed, again, at giving her pain and discomfort. She wasn’t sure what she wanted more, being touched in an overwhelming amount of places or not touched at all? Being looked at and inspected closely or discarded and left alone? Each of those states was catering to her different and competing needs. Each of them longed for when the other one was being delivered.

At some point, they tied her to a chair in a corner of the room with her legs spread and her pussy exposed. A cloud of worry went through her head, “What will it lead to for me?” she thought. But they proceeded to kiss each other, getting undressed, and shortly after, making love. After a moment, she realized that she was not going to receive any attention from them for a while now. And that was the moment of welcoming the silence.

She hadn't gotten used to the experience of being an object yet. The quiet place that she went to when it happened. The overwhelming silence that was descending upon her there. The feeling of freedom and weightlessness in her mind. It felt like, on the one hand, she was leaving her body, and on the other hand, she was only a body. She ceased to want things. She ceased to wish for things to happen. She just was. She became still, her breathing slowed down. It was almost like she was melting into the background. 

Bue she loved when it happened. She loved it when her mind was freed from her ego in that way. She loved the experience of being without wanting and needing. It usually happened when she had been abandoned after a period of intense use and objectification. When, after that, she was being discarded and left in the state of an object. Especially, when she was left somehow bound or immobilized, either physically or by her need to follow orders. The fact of being used like a thing depersonalized her and in order to get out of that state, she would need to be pulled out of it by another human being, preferably the one who put her there in the first place. Just being left alone in that state did not diminish it. She was still being an object, just not one that was being used at the moment. And what do objects do when they're not being used? Well, they don't do anything. They just are. And that is what was happening to her. She just was.

When they’d finished and the girl started untying her from the chair, she was still, quiet and barely breathing. And when the girl started to ask her questions, it took her a while to realize that they were directed to her and that she actually had a voice that she should use to reply. It felt weird to talk about her needs and well-being, notions which a moment ago were basically non-existent. 

She was being brought back from the quiet space into the normal world and in order to land fully and in one piece, she needed to know one thing, "Did they enjoy it?" she asked. This was the one question that she always needed to ask after an experience like that. Did they enjoy using her? Did she bring them joy? Was her suffering fruitful? For her to assess whether she enjoyed the play herself, the only thing that mattered was whether her users did.

Their answer was positive and she could finally relax hearing that. She was happy. She had been a fun toy.

You like your cruel games

Sometimes I wonder if his cruelty has any borders. And what's wrong with me for being drawn exactly to that cruelty? He is capable of doing things to me that are beyond my imagination. Showing me that I will go further than I ever thought is physically or mentally possible. And then even further than that. I will stretch my limits so thinly that single strings begin to snap, just to catch a glimpse of entertainment in his eyes. Just to amuse him for a little while.

But it's not only about that. It's also about seeing how far I can go. He is enabling me to explore uncharted territories that I would never have been able to reach without him. He is bringing me to places in my head that are far beyond my reach. It's exciting and terrifying at the same time. Exciting, because I love new experiences and crossing what I thought are my limits. Terrifying, because what if I am not as strong as I thought I am? What if at some point I snap?

Prologue

Recently, he began to expand our play beyond the short intense moments when we see each other. First, by putting a chastity belt on me, he made me physically unable to orgasm for 40 days that were in between our planned encounters. And it worked. No matter how hard I tried, I wasn’t able to come.

In the beginning, it was quite enjoyable. It made the presence of his will in my life constant, even though he wasn't there. It turned every sexual experience with my other partners into a reason for me to feel used and miserable (with their knowledge and agreement to proceed regardless of my handicap). It expanded his control over my life far beyond where it was before, and at the same time made me accept it because I knew that it's a sacrifice that I needed to make in order to get somewhere where I've never been before. In the end, though, I was feeling quite desperate.

I am an extremely sensual person. The sensation of having a penis filling up my pussy would basically always make me come multiple times during intercourse. Sex is a very important part of my life and as it turns out, orgasms are an inherent part of sex for me. Being such an avid receiver of pleasure was a part of my identity. And now he took it away. 

It made me feel frustrated and desperate. It made me feel like I am starting to lose myself. And I didn't even know for what. Well… Actually, I knew. I was doing it for him. I was doing it because it's what he decided that I should go through. But I wasn't sure if I really could take it. Especially without his presence in my day to day life. I didn't know if I can go through it all alone, and at the same time not crack entirely under the weight of the experience. 

I did survive those 40 days, but it was much more difficult than I anticipated. I waited desperately to see him again, even though I wasn't sure what's going to happen and if he is going to release me from my ordeal.

He did, but not in the way that I expected. As always, he didn't give me what I wanted and at the same time, he did. He made me realize that what I think I want, is not what I really want, and what I really want is to be made utterly desperate and mindfucked beyond imagination, at the same time not being able to handle it and enjoying it tremendously.

The main act

The moment that I waited for so long, finally came. I saw him again. I was both excited and terrified about it. As I always am when I am about to see him. I knew that he is going to use my neediness against me. I just didn't know, how. And I wasn't sure what I am more afraid of, him allowing me to orgasm or not?

As it turned out, it didn't matter because both can be a means of torture.

One morning, he finally decided that he might let me come from having him inside me, which was a great privilege for me. He can easily switch off my ability to feel bodily sensations or my consciousness, so any time he doesn't do it really feels like a blessing. He ordered me to ride him, which is my least favourite sex position (too much feeling like I am in control), but it didn't matter at that moment. He taught me not to expect too much and cherish even slight scraps of his grace. 

“I could feel him and I might be allowed to come feeling him,”  that thought offered more possibilities for happiness than I could have ever imagined. Of course, he didn't grant me that joy easily.

He made me beg for an orgasm through a gag, torturing me by requiring me to be inventive in my pleading and at the same time increasing the intensity of my sensual experiences, so that all I could think about was how good it feels to have him inside me and how horny I am right now. Somehow I did manage to come up with more and more humiliating ways to beg for an orgasm, which I didn't even think he understood exactly because I was splattering through the gag, but it didn't matter. What mattered was that I kept humiliating myself by mumbling through the gag and drooling all over my breasts like a total idiot.

The thing with me is that I love humiliation, but I also have quite a big ego. I enjoy debasing myself, but only after I'm being cornered into it. And no matter how many times I do it, it never gets easier. Each time I have to call myself names, I am going through an inner struggle, I am battling my pride. I will do it and it will make me wet, but only if I really have no other choice. Only if the price of disobedience is too high to pay. And still, with each uttered sentence, the fight starts all over again.  

Finally, after a while of entertaining himself with my debasement, he said that I am allowed to come. At first, he set a time limit of 5 seconds after his permission, which I obviously couldn't fulfil and failing at which was only making me more and more aroused, as after each 'failure' he would put the chastity belt on and increase the intensity, and the ball of pulsating pleasure growing bigger and bigger inside of me. 

I realised that when I am going to ask him again, I really needed to feel like I am almost there. He hated me playing it safe. I had to get really close, risking going crazy with frustration if he says ‘no’. But he didn't. Finally, I managed to orgasm within the time limit.

But he didn't let me savour this long-awaited orgasm much. 

The moment he started giving me orgasms, he didn't stop. He made me come over and over again, each time increasing the intensity and each time making me dread it more and more. What was a pleasure that I longed for so much, now became my torture. 

The thing with my hypnotically induced orgasms is that he made them extremely intense. He worked on me a couple of times, describing in detail how they would fill my entire body with waves of pleasure and how with each orgasm they would intensify. And they did. As it turns out, having intense waves of pleasure shaking your body over and over again is exhausting to the point of being unbearable. Especially when you keep on bouncing on somebody's cock.

I was sweaty and my pussy was extremely wet. My thighs were hurting from jumping on him that I wasn't allowed to stop and my mouth was hurting from the gag. I was trembling and I felt streams of sweat and drool running down my body.

"You can always beg me to stop giving you orgasms. But remember that it might be for a long time," he said and escalated the intensity even further.  

Of course! How could I not have thought about it? How come I always take whatever is being thrown at me without even considering the possibility of asking him to stop until he mentions it?

So I started to beg him to stop, interchangeably with begging for more orgasms, when I felt like coming without permission was becoming too much of a risk. He was amused by my confusion and each time I begged him to stop, he would ask if I am sure about it, since it might be for really long. 

And I wasn't sure. I didn't want to be deprived of pleasure again for such a long time. But I also felt like I can't stand any more orgasms right now.  

At some point, I broke. I became sure that at this moment I really can’t take any more. Even if it meant no orgasms for long. I was not able to pay the price. I also realized that I won’t win. He wanted to drive me to say it. He wanted to make me beg him for the exact thing that I dreaded so much. And he did. I was just a puppet, dancing on the strings held by him for the sake of his amusement. 

Epilogue

Oh, how I sometimes fear the power that he has over me… How he can direct me to play out any scenario that he has in his twisted mind. How I will follow obediently and knowingly into the trap that he set for me when he leaves me no other choice but to follow through. The only thing that could spare me being his mercy which rarely shows it’s head. 

He gave me what I dreamed of and then made me choke with it. And now, he made me dream of it again. 

After it was all finished, I took a shower to clean myself up from the mess that I’ve become and then kneeled in front of him in my usual position with hands behind my back.

“So how many times did you come?” he asked, looking at me intently.

“I don’t know Sir, ten maybe,” I answered embarrassed.

“Ten, you say. And how many times did you say ‘thank you’?”

My heart stopped at this question. I didn’t say ‘thank you’ even once. I was so tormented from the very beginning, that it didn’t even cross my mind.

“I didn’t say it at all Sir. I am sorry,” I said frozen from fear.

“Oh, you will be,” he said with his cold and cruel voice, ”So for ten orgasms without saying ‘thank you’ I would say that ten more months without an orgasm sounds fair, doesn’t it?”

My eyes grew huge from terror. “He can’t be serious right now,” a desperate hopeless thought crossed my mind.

But knowing him so far, I couldn't exclude the possibility that he was.

He is a mirror that shows me all the parts of me that I wish I didn’t see. He makes me trip over my vices over and over again. And no matter how much I don’t want to admit it with myself, I love his cruelty. It makes me wet to just think that he truly is capable of casually taking away my orgasms for such a long time. How he can execute his power over me in cold blood, makes me melt. He left me cornered by my own mind, wishing for having my freedom back and at the same time knowing that nothing tastes as good as being a slave to his whims.

Provided to YouTube by TuneCore Mean · Nicole Dollanganger Natural Born Losers ℗ 2015 Eerie Organization Released on: 2015-10-09 Auto-generated by YouTube.

My reflections on giving blowjobs

I’ve been told that I have amazing blowjob giving skills. I don’t know if it is true but if it is, I think that it's not really about my technique or physical capabilities. In that realm, there are many things that I could improve. Rather, I believe that it's about my devotion during the act and about my stamina.

Blowjobs are a special sexual activity because they are purely focused on the pleasure of the receiver. In principle, there is no physical satisfaction that I could be getting out of it myself (it so happens that I am sometimes having intense orgasms from giving blowjobs, but I will leave that out of this writing because it's a very special case and it's out of my control). So the purpose of the act is to give pleasure to the other without being pleasured myself.

I think that the reason why blowjobs given by me feel so special is that I'm totally selfless in the act. I do it purely for him and I don't expect anything in return. I don't ask myself whether he will return the favour because I know that he won't. And that's what makes me happy. I don't want the pleasure to be reciprocated. My only purpose is to serve and that's how I want it to be. My reward is being allowed to be around him and to make him happy. And that's all I desire.

The moment that I take his cock into my mouth, the only thing that matters to me is pleasing him. Everything else disappears. Time stops. It's a bit like meditation (maybe it even is one of my natural meditative states). Up, down, up, down, lick the tip, go down and stick out your tongue, repeat. I can go on like that for hours and I completely lose track of the time. My head becomes empty. There is nothing to think about as my purpose at that moment is clear. To suck his cock.

And somehow, even though I've said the opposite, having his cock in my mouth is a pleasure to me in a way. It's such a sensitive and special piece of him that he allows me to cherish. How could I not appreciate that? I feel very special to be allowed to be close to him in this way. To take him into my mouth, to caress him with my tongue and lips. It's a privilege to be allowed to get so close to him, to take care of his happiness. To be a source of relief and relaxation.

I never think if and when it will finish. I don't try to bring him to orgasm. It's not me who is directing the situation and I wouldn't even try to. He'll cum when he feels like it and he'll use me for it in a way that he sees fit, by fucking my throat, choking me on his cock or ordering me to go faster and bring him to orgasm. And then the moment when he pushes himself really deep into my throat and feels it with his sperm makes me so radiant. HE ENJOYED HIMSELF!

It's not like I do it always singing inside and without any effort, though. It is hard work. After a while my knees and calves start to hurt from kneeling, my shoulders and arms ache from keeping my hands behind my back, my back and neck hurt from the up and down movement. My lips become numb and my throat sore from being filled with something too big to actually fit in there. But I ignore it and go on because that's my service to him. My devotion is bigger than my discomfort.

I don't even consider the possibility of stopping. Because how could I stop if he wants me to go on? It is unthinkable of. The only reason that I would stop is if I would drop out of exhaustion. Until I'm physically capable of continuing, I will. And I'm pretty strong, so I don't think that it would happen quickly.

I love blowjobs because of their one-sidedness. During PIV sex I tend to feel kind of guilty if I cum because it shouldn’t be about me, but I am making it as such. Here I don't have this risk. It's clear that I'm not going to get any physical pleasure from it that it is all about him. And that’s why I love it.

Because I don't deserve to be pleased. All I deserve is to be used and discarded afterwards. And what gives a better opportunity for such a treatment than giving someone a blowjob?

My love-hate relationship with deep-throating

There are not many things that leave me feeling as used and violated as being throat-fucked. And I both love it and hate it at the same time.

I love it because it's as objectifying as sex can get. The man using your mouth for his own pleasure, thrusting his penis deep into your throat, disregarding your pain and discomfort, disregarding your inability to breathe, the choking and the spit covering your face. Oh no, at this moment he definitely doesn't care if you're pretty. At this moment you're just a hole. At this moment it's not about your skills, it's not about you giving him pleasure, it's about him giving himself pleasure, using your mouth. And the less human reflexes you have, the better.

I love it because it hurts in the most uncomfortable of ways. There is nothing pleasurable about having your throat stuffed with someone's dick, which is hitting the back of it, filling up your mouth and blocking your access to the air altogether. There is nothing enjoyable in the way it hurts when he slums his penis into your mouth, violating delicate tissue that it’s covered with. Face-fucking is definitely not what my mouth was made for. When he pushes my head onto his cock so hard that my gums start to hurt from it, the last thing I would call it is feeling good.

I love it because it makes me feel so degraded, so low. What kind of girl would let someone do this to them? And enjoy it? Thinking about it makes me feel so ashamed that I can't even look into his eyes when he fucks me. I can't bear him seeing me at this moment. I want to stay invisible, to not take part in this spectacle of my debasement.

I love it when days after my throat still hurts, and with every swallow, I'm reminded of the things that he did to me.

Finally, I love how subjugated to him it makes me feel. How it reminds me that I will let him do anything to me for as much as a scrap of his attention, and how much I belong to him. But even more importantly, it is proof of him accepting my gift. And it makes me the happiest person on Earth to see it being put to use. To see him dispose of my body as of his rightful property, which it is.

Did I also mention that I hate it? I do. I hate everything about it.

He likes to have his toys the way he likes them

“Which one do you like the most, ‘down on all fours’, ‘sex doll’ or ‘ragdoll’? You can choose,” he asks me about the states that he can put me in, using triggers that he planted in my head during a hypnotic trance.

As always when he asks me these kinds of questions, my mind short-circuits, “He asked me a question. What should I answer? What answer will make him happy? I should answer, he is waiting and he will not be happy about having to wait. But what answer is the right answer?“

In reality, there is no right answer of course. He wants to know my preference. Not that it is going to influence his choice in any way. But he is curious and he wants to get to know me as good as possible. If only to be able to apply his cruelty even more precisely. The more he knows me, the better he knows where to strike to hurt me the most.

I am not able to give him an answer quick enough though. I am too anxious about him not liking my choice. Plus, to be honest, when he is around, my preferences hide in very dark corners of my psyche. All I can think of is what he wants. If I would answer, I would probably choose the state that I think he likes me in the most. I can’t think about myself when my mind is pushed so deep into submission by his dominant aura. I disappear. All that matters is his pleasure.

“You won’t answer? Too bad. I will choose for you then. ‘Down on all fours’ on.”

I position myself on all fours on the bed. My elbows are bent, forearms lying on the mattress, palms down. My ass is up and my legs are spread, open and ready. The final touch is the head tilted up and the mouth opened wide. Now, all my holes are clearly visible and easily accessible. The moment I am in the position, my body freezes and I can’t move anymore. From now on I am his sex toy for use. Only my eyes still belong to me. Tracing him until I lose him out of sight.

He touches my breasts, squeezes them, “I like your breasts. I like how they jump when you ride my cock like a horny little whore.”

This comment stings, but I can’t react. Only my mind is squirming from embarrassment. I usually like my breasts to be touched. They are very sensitive to touch. But in these circumstances, his touch feels objectifying and violating. He doesn’t treat me like a person, but more like a toy or an object. He is touching his property that he is going to use for the next hour.

He proceeds to my pussy, running his fingers over it, brushing it lightly. Again, it doesn’t feel like he is touching me. He doesn’t touch to connect, to give pleasure. He touches because he can. He strokes his trophy, admiring its beauty.

He spreads my labia and investigates my cunt, “You have a nice pussy. I haven’t noticed before. I was too busy using it, I guess,” he laughs.

I stiffen even more if it’s possible. I don’t like it when people look at my pussy. Especially when they investigate it so thoroughly. I become extremely ashamed of the fact that I have one. I become very self-conscious and all I want is to just disappear so that he stops looking at me. He finally stops and moves over to my mouth.

He is already hard from the blowjob that I gave him before he turned me into his powerless object of pleasure. According to him, I am an extremely gifted blowjob giver. Very eager and devoted. I guess that it is true. I love giving him pleasure in any form, and sucking his dick is very pure in the sense that it is truly all about him (although he has his ways to increase my pleasure of it if he feels like it) and it gives me a great opportunity to show him how much I want to please him.

He thrusts his penis into my wide-open mouth and starts to fuck it. I start to gag almost immediately as he hits the back of my throat, but I can’t do anything so I just start to drool extensively and gasp for the air.

“I want to cum inside you today, not in your mouth,” he says when fucking my throat and laughing.

He loves seeing me so helpless and abused. And I love the thought of him cumming in me. I don’t know why, but I find it extremely pleasurable when a man climaxes inside of me. It gives me a feeling of closeness, of intimacy. I am one of those lucky girls, who cum pretty easily from PIV sex and it usually happens a couple of times during one fuck. It makes me extremely happy when he also cums from fucking me. It somehow makes my pussy feel content and accomplished. So, I am thrilled when I hear that He wants to cum inside me. If only I could have guessed the circumstances of how it is going to happen, I wouldn't be so joyful.

Being done with my mouth, he decides that he wants me in a different position, “’Sex doll’ on.”

At first, I do not react as I was on all fours and the ‘sex doll’ position is on my back and somehow my brain can't make the connection of how I get from one to the other.

He looks at me and says, “Turn on your back and turn the ‘sex doll’ mode on.”

Finally, I understand. I follow his orders obediently. I turn on my back, raise my legs, bent to 90 degrees, I bend my elbows and lay my arms next to my head, palms up. I open my mouth wide again. That is the correct position, so my body stiffens again. As soon as he enters me, I start to moan like a cheap porn star. Exactly how we instructed me to do when he set up the ‘sex doll’ mode. It feels wrong. It is pleasurable, but the way I am communicating it doesn’t feel like me. It is mechanical and fake. Exactly how he wanted it to be.

He starts fucking me harder and my moans grow louder. It feels good. I start to slip into the mindless state of a sex doll where all I can feel is his penis filling me up and how pleasurable it is to be fucked by him. But somewhere at the back of my head, it doesn't feel right, it doesn’t feel like me. He is using my body and I am reacting to it, but we aren’t having sex.

“‘Sex doll’ off,” sounds in my ears suddenly.

The moment it happens, I embrace him and moan for real. I am finally myself having him inside me. It feels amazing. I am so happy. I start to move my body in his rhythm. I didn’t expect him to get me out of the ‘sex doll’ mode, but I am so glad that he showed me mercy.

“Do you know what you are missing now?” he asks.

I don’t have to think long about the answer. He means a ball gag. I don’t think that we've had sex even once without me being gagged, at least for some time. As soon as his dick enters my cunt, I am either gagged, or my mouth is spread open on his order, so he can spit in it, or my face is swollen from being slapped by him. Not sure which one has my preference, except for the huge ball gag. That one is definitely my least preferred option. I don’t think that it matters though.

“A gag?” I ask.

“Yes, you are learning. Good girl. Big or small?”

I hate his questions. He makes it seem like I have a choice when in reality I don’t. I know that it doesn’t matter what I say, he will do whatever he feels like, but I still can’t help but try to come up with a strategy to avoid the outcome that I want the least. 

“Should I ask for the small one or pretend that I want the big one?” I wonder.

It is ridiculous because obviously, I want the small one and the question is rhetoric. But I still can’t help lying to myself that I might have some influence on his decisions.

Fortunately, he left the huge gag somewhere else and I got the smallest one. I am very grateful for that.

“You see, I am being nice to you. I gave you a small gag. Aren’t you grateful?”

“Thank you,” I splatter through the gag in my mouth.

He trained me well to get over the shame of talking with a gag and other things in my mouth. I don’t hesitate before doing it anymore. I know that it is no excuse for him.

He proceeds to put a blindfold on me. He likes to take things away from me. Speech, sight. These are privileges that I don’t need when serving him as his fuck toy.

“Hands and legs off.”

My arms and legs fall lifelessly on the bed. It makes me anxious and frightened.

“It’s not like you need them,” he says. “Now you are what you ought to be. Just a body for me to fuck. Helpless, unable to move. You can still feel and you are aware, so don’t complain.”

That’s true. I am grateful for having a conscious mind. I am grateful for being able to feel him inside me, to react at least slightly to the pleasure that he is giving me, to be able to stay aware and connected to him, when he is fucking me. I can’t move my arms and legs, but how could I have expected for him to have sex with me with my arms free? That simply doesn’t happen.

He penetrates me deeply, I feel thrusts of his penis in and out of my cunt. It feels so good to be filled by him. My pussy is pulsating with pleasure. I am thinking that he is going to cum inside me. I can feel him getting harder and bigger, his moves become more powerful. And then he says it. The words that I was so afraid to hear, but I was hopeful that he won’t do it. I hoped that, because it is our last time for a while, he will want to fuck me.

“‘Ragdoll’ on.”

My trunk and head relax and my mind goes blank. I stop moaning through the gag. I stop being myself. I become a mindless and powerless body. Trapped under him. My real self far away. He smirks and continues to fuck me. I struggle hard to remain conscious but I can’t help slipping away into blankness. I become more and more relaxed as I feel his thrusts in and out of me. In and out. In and out. His breath is getting deeper and his moves more forceful. Finally, he pushes himself really deep into me and cums. I can hear his self-satisfied sigh. He takes his penis out of me.

“‘Ragdoll’ off,” he says and proceeds to take off the blindfold and the gag.

I sigh and start to sob. He hugs me and kisses on the forehead. Now is the time when he will be intimate with me. I served him well.

He appreciates and values it and makes me feel that, “You’ve done well. You’ve been a good girl. I am happy with you.”

That makes me both extremely happy and very confused.

I can’t believe what has just happened. I’ve never felt so used. Especially not by someone with whom I want to be intimate with. We've just had sex and he’s just come inside me and I missed all of it. I wasn’t there. He took it away from me. Part of me hated him for it.

At the same time, he just let me experience objectification in its purest form. He made me feel something so strong that I couldn’t even imagine that it is possible. And he found it hot and sexy. He was glad he could use me this way. He enjoyed me in this mindless from. And I was so glad to be able to give him that.

Because I enjoy it too. I enjoy how he trained me to take any kind of hardship from him and not even expect anything else. I enjoy having him use my body the way he likes and minimizing my participation in it. I enjoy having all the power taken away from me. I enjoy being his toy.

And he likes to have his toys the way he likes them, mindless, powerless and entirely at his mercy.

And I can’t imagine a more suitable state for me to be in.

An ultimate loss of control

Objectification is one of my biggest fetishes. I love to be treated like I don't matter. I love to be used and for my needs to be disregarded. I love to hide in this safe space, where I don't need to put myself out there. Where my sole purpose is to be. Where I don't need to make any decisions, because it's someone else who decides what my actions should be.

It's degrading to be treated as an object. It can also be humiliating, depending on what purpose I serve at the moment. It makes me go really low. It teaches me to forget my ego. It strips away my pride. I like it and I need it. In normal life, I tend to be very outspoken and present when with people. I like to express my opinions and I like for things to go my way. I want to be seen and I love attention.

In play, I love when my partner intentionally does the things that I don't want or denies me the things that I do want. In a weird way, it proves to me that they care about me. By intentionally not giving me what I want, they show that they know exactly what it is, but they are not going to give it, because they are the ones who hold the power. I like to be put in place this way. I like when people teach me a lesson.

In normal life, I tend sometimes to be in a way ‘bratty’, or ‘difficult’. I think that I test people this way. I want to see who will go against me. Who is going to play my game and who will just ignore it and do things his/her way. I don’t often find the latter, but I damn sure find it sexy. Because in the end, I do think that sometimes my behaviour really deserves it. Sometimes I am amazed at myself by how cheeky and tiring I can be. I look at it from the outside and I think: this girl deserves to be taught a lesson.

Being his fuckdoll definitely taught me a lesson...

Have you ever tried hypnosis? I didn't really believe that it works before I did. And I definitely didn't see the possibilities that it gives in kink, especially in objectification. Let me tell you that it does work and it makes play overwhelmingly exciting. Because there is one thing in being treated like an object or being told to behave like an object. And there is another thing in being turned into an object. Hypnosis can do the latter. I feel like that's the ultimate objectification experience. When you're not only treated as a thing, but you become a thing.

One of the things that he turns me into is a rag doll. In that state, my entire body becomes completely relaxed and there is no muscle tension in it. I can't hold any position on my own. My legs and arms lie on the bed limply. My face muscles are completely relaxed. I don't make a sound. Also, my mind becomes relaxed. Blank. I become a lifeless, mindless doll.

And that's the state that he likes to fuck me in. The experience of it is insane. In general, I love to be fucked by him, I love to be used for his pleasure. But this is different. Because normally if I am used by him and he disregards my pleasure, it is still me that he is using. When I am a rag doll, it feels like he is not having sex with me, but with my body only and I am watching it from the distance. It feels so much more objectifying, almost violating.

What is really saddening for me is that I am not able to enjoy what is happening to me at the moment. There is some part of me that is registering what is happening, but I don’t feel like I am having sex with him the way that I normally do. I just know that my body is being used, which makes me want to feel it even more. This experience made me realize that he has so much power over me that he can even take away the pleasure of being used from me if he wants to. He could make me beg to let me be used by him and to let me feel it. He basically controls all my sexual experiences.

Maybe I am insane, but the fact that someone has that much control over me turns me on immensely. That if he feels like I don’t deserve to feel him at this moment, but he still feels like fucking me, he can just turn me into a rag doll and fuck me in that mindless state. I also find it extremely hot that it turns him on to have me in this state and to have that power. It turns me on that he actually uses the power that he has. That he really disregards my needs and desires often. That everything that we do is about him and his pleasure.

In a weird way that is exactly what I am looking for. I am fulfilling my needs by having them disregarded. But it is an entirely different level of fulfilment. It is not like when you feel pleasure in pain. When you have two contradictory sensory experiences at the same time. This is way more intellectual and mental and the realization that I am getting exactly what I want comes way later. At the moment when he does it to me I am miserable and lost, all I want is for him to just stop and be nice to me for once. To feel his warmth. Right after he was finished with fucking me as a rag doll, I was completely broken and overwhelmed and was sobbing into his shoulder.

But when I looked at it from the outside (which usually happens after the scene), I relished in the position that he put me in. I delighted in his ruthlessness. I devoured his cruelty. There is a part of my that really enjoys my suffering. That part really wants me to be put in the lowest possible state. I can’t do it myself though. My suffering self will not let me do it. Therefore, having someone who has so much power over me and who is using it so skillfully, makes my inner sadist glee. Finally, this girl is getting what she deserves.

When his kindness makes you cry

So we’ve got to a point in our relationship in which no matter what he does, it leaves me a sobbing mess. He doesn’t have to abuse me for that anymore. He can also just be nice.

Last weekend he gave me a taste of what it would be like to have a normal relationship with him. We went to a cocktail bar, talked until early morning, woke up with me giving him a blowjob followed by us having sex. It sounds so normal, right? Only that it left my head completely messed up.

First of all, I woke up before him and spent 30 minutes looking at him and wondering whether he really said that I am allowed to wake him up by sucking his cock or did I only imagine it? Thinking about that made me really horny. And mostly not because of thoughts about sucking his dick (although that as well), but because of realising how much under his control I am that I am afraid to wake him up with a blowjob, because of fear that I will do something against his will. I will do something sexual without his permission.

In the end, he woke up before I overcame my fear (which would probably be never) and pushed my head down to his crotch. It was such a relief. Finally, I was sure what he wants from me and I could just follow. After a while of my eager sucking, he pushed me on my back and lifted my legs. My breath got faster and shallow. Is he really going to fuck me? He told me that he will, but I still couldn’t believe how lucky I am that it is actually happening. And when he filled me up, I started crying. All the feelings of anticipation, of rejection and denial, were finally letting go. It was really happening, he did want me after all.

And when I asked him if I can cum, he allowed me immediately. That made me cry even more. He was so kind to me. It felt almost… Normal. Like I was his beloved girlfriend, whom he is making love to. And it is not like I want to be his normal beloved girlfriend, but the feeling of how it would be, made me recall all the other moments when I didn’t feel like that at all. It made me realize even more strongly everything that I am not getting from him. It made me realise that he is giving me so little sexual tenderness that any act of it is almost painful. The buildup leading to it is so big that it makes it almost unbearable to receive.

And then the thoughts of self-doubt and self-blame came. Because how can I be so ungrateful for what he is giving to me? How bad must it feel for him that when he is being nice to me, I start to cry and almost lose my mind, instead of behaving like a normal human being and enjoying what is happening between us? In my head, nothing is ever his fault. It is not like he messed me up so badly that this is how I react to normal acts of love and desire. It is my fault for being unappreciative and behaving like I am mad, instead of acting normal. What was wrong with me?

After we were done, I felt really bad for putting him through this. I kept saying how sorry I am and he kept saying that it is ok and there is nothing to be sorry about. That he enjoys me the way I am. That he is not normal either and he would never want us to change.

I believed him, but I also couldn’t get over the fact of how fucked up in the head I am. The fact that there is no way for us to be a normal couple. The fact that even when it seems like we are not doing a scene, it ends up being a mindfuck for me. And in some way it is great. It is exactly what I dreamed of. But in other ways, it is also scary and pretty sick.

We can’t have everything and I would never replace the things we are having for a normal relationship. I do think that it is amazing that I react this way to his kindness and that it is a sign of us getting to interesting places with our dynamic. It felt also, however, like a point of no return. Or rather, it made me realise that we might have crossed that point a while ago. And I accept it. If vanilla tender sex and a bit of my sanity is a price that I will have to pay for going forward, so be it. I am ready to give it up for what is there to come.

This time I wasn't scared, I was terrified

We've reached a new level of fear play recently. A level on which it starts to be really hard to tell the fantasy from the truth, where the line between them becomes blurry and you start doubting whether what you are doing is really just a game. And now the only thing that I can think of is that I want more.

We love fear play and we do lots of it. I think that fear is one of the emotions that are the easiest for him to elicit in me (apart from arousal). It is always bubbling under the surface when I am around him. And he uses it a lot in our play. For example when he snaps at me unexpectedly. Or when he grabs my throat and says “I could just kill you right now”.

I like to be afraid of him. There is something in the mixture of love and fear that is really intoxicating for me. It's this moment of confusion when you both relish in what is happening to you and at the same time wish that it was over. Your brain can't really comprehend it so it floods your body with hormones.

He can make me scared of many things. Of pain (even though I am a masochist, when he hurts me with the intention to really hurt, I don’t enjoy it), of his disappointment (since what I want the most is for him to be pleased with me), of him leaving me (yes, he can be mean like that), even of death from his hand (in play I do believe that it's a plausible scenario). In all these cases though, part of the reason why it works is that I want to be scared. I want to believe him. I enjoy playing this game. So I let my brain follow the route that he has prepared for me.

This time was different. This time he terrified me to the core, even though I was trying to convince myself that what he was saying was not true. I was trying to get out of the hole that he dug under me, but the harder I was trying, the deeper I was falling in.

It was after an already heavy scene where he was demanding me to answer his questions, while at the same time making me unable to speak by putting pressure on me and stressing me out, which always makes me lose my voice. It seemed like the scene was over and we moved to the aftercare. Only that we didn't. He can be amazing like that, striking the hardest when I least expect it.

We were talking and cuddling and he was telling me that he loves me. Suddenly his attitude shifted, he started to seem a bit mad, or maybe mad is a wrong word, a bit psycho. “You have no idea what you're getting into,” he said and started laughing. “I'm going to fuck you up. Oh yes, I'm going to fuck you up really badly.”, there was something in the way he said it that made me shiver and want to run. “Where do you think you're going? Come here, come to me.”, he said, grabbing my head fiercely with his forearm. “Don't worry, I'm here for you.”

Only I didn't want him to be there. I felt like I needed to get away from him or otherwise he will do something really bad to me. I started fighting, but there was no way for me to escape his grip. He was way too strong. “I think you don't understand. Even if you manage to convince yourself that you should leave me, which I don't think you will, I am not going to let you go. You're mine and there is nothing that can change it.”

I was terrified. Is that true? Is he really a psychopath and not a loving boyfriend with complementary kinky interests that I was taking him for? What if this is the only moment that he is being honest with me? What if all his love and devotion is just a lie in order to get to me? In order for him to be able to weave his net tighter and tighter around me until there will be no space for me to breathe? “Did you really think that I actually love you?” he asked and laughed again. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I don't. I just wanted to get to your tiny brain that is so much fun to play with. How could I love someone as pathetic as you?”

This broke my heart. It felt so wrong. I truly wanted him to stop at that moment. It wasn't fun at all. It wasn't just one of those little dramatic acts that we played so often. It felt real. It felt like one of those scenes in the movies about serial killers when they think they've won, so they start to reveal all their secrets to their victims. Only in the movies, it usually turns out that they didn't win. And here I definitely felt like he did. He was right, I belonged to him and I was not going to run from him. There was no question about that. It is something that I have been communicating to him for a while now, but it didn't seem like he was going to use that fact anytime soon. I wished he did, but I was also ready to wait as I didn't want to push him into anything. As it turned out, he is more than ready to use it, but I won't be able to predict how.

It's not like I believe that I'm dating a psychopath. I don't. But... He made me realise that I can't exclude this possibility. Because it's not like it's impossible. With his manipulation skills… I just can't exclude it. And it's fucking hot. He made me feel like I might be in real danger. And I will not be sure if I am until it's too late. Isn't that terrifying? And crazy sexy? Or am I just a little bit insane?

I'm sorry for forcing you not to fuck me

The story

Last weekend I broke a rule set by my owner. For the first time. It was a simple rule. I was not allowed to cum until he decides otherwise. I think it was around a month since I came the last time and I was pretty sure, that the next time we'll see each other, he'll finally fuck me.

It was a day before our next date and I've met for tying with one of my favourite riggers. As it usually happens with me, the tying turned into a light play. And then a bit more serious play. I told him that we should stop because I'm not allowed to cum. But the truth was that I didn't want to stop. I love to be teased and I love the thrill of playing with the forbidden.

Unfortunately, the more we played, the more I was able to convince myself that maybe it will be fine if I let go. In the end, my owner will finally have a reason to punish me seriously. Plus, he was probably expecting me to fail at some point anyway. That's also what I communicated to my rigger. And he read my hints.

I was about to leave when he started to touch me and play with my clit and finally his fingers dove deep inside me. At that point, I just couldn't hold it anymore as we've spent most of the evening playing on the edge. So I let go.

As soon as it happened, a loud scream ‘No!’ appeared in my head and on my mouth. This was the moment when I came back to reality and I realized the immensity of my mistake. I realized that I fucked up badly. On my way back home, I anxiously tried to contact my owner a couple of times to tell him what happened and release the feeling of guilt, but he wouldn't reply. The next day I did everything to make up for it. I dressed up in sexy lingerie, cooked a nice dinner and made sure it's ready on time. I greeted him on my knees, trembling, holding a board above my head saying ‘I'm sorry Sir ‘. I don't think it really worked, but it surely didn't make things worse. I got punished and I've atoned in the eyes of my Sir. He forgave me, but I haven't entirely forgiven myself yet. And here is why.

The learning points

The worst part of the punishment was not what he did to me. The worst part was being brought to the full realization of the consequences of my deed. As a result of my immature need for thrill and playing with fire, I've destroyed a scenario that my owner had been planning for a while. I have not only given up the opportunity to finally be filled up by him, but I also took it away from him. He was forced to start building up the tension and neediness in me from scratch again, which also entailed not having sex with me that night. By punishing me, he was also punishing himself. He denied a pleasure to himself in order to teach me something. The difference between the two of us is that he is able to control himself if he thinks it serves a bigger purpose. And I was not.

This situation made me realise that by not following his rules, I put myself in a dynamic that I really don't enjoy. The kind of dynamic where he is my mentor and the wise man and I'm a stubborn child. And I really hate feeling like a child. I hate giving an impression like I don't appreciate what he's giving to me and that he needs to force-feed me his ideas. I hate feeling like I lack in terms of maturity and commitment compared to him. There are many aspects in which I love to feel inferior, but this is not one of them. I want to feel equal when it comes to responsibility and commitment. I want to feel like we are building our dynamic together and that we both respect what the other one brings to the table.

The truth is that I do appreciate immensely what we are building and the traits of his character that enable us to do this. I find it amazing that he's able to design a scene that takes ages to play out. That he is like a spider secretly building his web around me, when I least expect it. I love how patient and deliberate he is. I know I can never be like that. I want to get everything right now, at this moment. That is why I appreciate his ability to delay the reward. It creates amazing emotional constructs. I would not able to create them myself, but I love to be part of them. And the least I can do is not to destroy this opportunity by being reckless.

In the end, this situation taught me (or even forced me) to take the responsibility for my own actions. Not only in terms of the impact that they might have on me but especially in terms of the impact on others. It is definitely not the only way to look at what happened. I know that my owner had lots of fun with punishing me and it could just have been a playful incident. But what I discovered is that these kind of incidents are not what I want to build our dynamic on. And I am grateful for this lesson.