What the hell kind of life is that for a beautiful twenty-something such as myself, or anyone for that matter?
And furthermore, if you're reading this and it seems as though your life tends to verge on territory as shitty as I felt mine was, do something about it! Find something that makes you happy! I'm not saying go and sleep with a bunch of strangers and have yourself filmed during sex and shit, I mean unless that's your cuppa tea, then great, go fuck somebody. But don't let yourself wake up one day and realize that you've made it to middle age without enjoying a moment of it. #YOLO, as stupid kids say right before doing something dangerous/idiotic/illegal, but the sentiment is spot on. I think I might have gone fucking postal if I hadn't come up with my own form of release, and I highly encourage anyone out there to find their own version of the Fuck-It List and start screwing! Or doing whatever the hell it is people without insatiable libidos' idea of living life to the fullest is.
So yeah, the Fuck-It List. Ten sexual challenges to myself, seven of which I'd completed up to this point. Butt-boinking, boinking in public, boinking a woman, boinking a big black boinker, boinking a married boinker, getting double boinked up both of my boink holes, and most recently, being boinked on camera and having my digitized boinking distributed to the masses.
And although I had enjoyed every wanking... Waking minute of my seedy, filthy boinking up to this point, this last item had been putting me on edge since the get-go, because, you know, the other items were all things I could secretly get away with, but this one ran an incredible risk of giving my sexual deviance away to the world.
And I mean, as far as that goes, I'm not sure one hundred percent why the hell I'd wanted to do that in the first place. I guess maybe it turned me on in sort of a masochistic way? Like... There's definitely an added element of erotic lasciviousness behind it, being caught by those you know. I mean, fuck, for all I know, my own father could have a secret porn fetish and jerk off to girls on film, and end up stumbling across my video by complete and utter chance... Or my fucking mother for that matter... Christ!
Not to mention my days at the office now seemed fucking interminable. I would walk through the aisles between the cubicles as certain as fuck that every last goddamn one of the fuckers was staring judgmentally at me, knowing what I'd done and the precise URL of where they could go to watch it when they got home. And hell, for all I knew, they had viewing parties at one another's houses, “Let's all go over to Dave's and watch our slutty little bitch co-worker screwing on camera!”
And fuck, don't get me started on Paul from accounting... This was a guy I knew had a certifiable appetite for sex, after I'd gotten nude pics of him sent to my secret e-mail account in response to an anonymous personal listing I'd set up as a means of fulfilling my To-Screw List. Anytime I passed him I thought for certain I could see my naked body writhing about on top of Mark's penis, the man who serviced me during the porn shoot in question, reflected in his eyes. Any minute I expected to look over and see the bastard licking his lips at me, knowing that I could never report him to HR for harassment because that would involve me spilling the anal beads regarding my participation in skin flick flimflamming.
And it wasn't entirely just work, either, that was getting to me.
See, I think I was starting to develop just a liiiiiiitle bit of an obsession with watching myself being pussy-pounded on camera. I must have replayed that goddamn ten minute clip a good four dozen times at this point, because fuck if it's not steamy as hell to see what you look like with a penis in you on camera.
What's more, I'd also gotten quite obsessed with my video's critical reception, a subject which was gradually coming more and more and more to consume me. For starters, there was the view count, well into the tens of thousands, as well as the thumbs up, thumbs down bar, mostly green, but with just enough red to piss me off like all hell. I mean, fuck, these bastards were watching me bump uglies on camera for free, and they had the nerve to criticize my performance in the sack? I also got into the habit of torturing myself by comparing myself to other videos, some of them like mine under the Casting category, wondering why the hell girls who weren't as attractive as I was or didn't fuck so good were getting better feedback or more views on their videos? I mean hell, if anything this whole experience was revealing what a jealous little bitch I could be beyond my normally chipper demeanor (because you know, up to this point I'm sure I've presented myself as a fucking angel to all you dumbass readers.)
I also started to wonder how many guys had splooged to the visual accompaniment of my writhing, naked body, a thought about which I wasn't entirely certain how I felt. I mean... There's nothing entirely wrong with that... Bird's gotta fly, fish gotta swim, dude's gotta wank... It was just... I dunno... Skeevy... Did giving orgasms to tens of thousands of guys make me a whore? Fuck if I knew... Maybe I could just think of it as something of a pubic public service, where I was offering harmless sexual release for all the poor bastards in the world who couldn't get any real pussy of their own. Yeah, that sounded good. I can envision a Public Service Announcement to raise awareness of such a sad sexual crisis, with slow motion, black and white footage of women being fucked, and middle aged men staring with sad eyes at their computer monitors, all set to the musical accompaniment of some bleak, depressing Sarah McLachlan song. “For just the small price of allowing your body to be defiled on camera, you too can help tens of thousands of poor men like these who are suffering from sexual repression or dysfunction. So many people suffering... Will you lend a helping hand, and bust their nut for them?”
I was also getting quite wrapped up in the comment section, curious about what precisely the lovely gentlemen (and in rare cases ladies) had to say about my beautiful little performance.
“I'd love a taste ;)” said MorningGloryHole87, apparently female, with an avatar of herself leaning toward the camera, her face cropped out, and her tits hanging down low.
“Who is she? I'd love to fuck her long dick style,” said SexyRexy, whose profile photo was of a considerable penis, presumably his own, but probably not really. Also I wasn't entirely sure what long dick style was, so perhaps my sexual corruption up to this point hadn't been as thorough as I'd thought it had been. Damn.
“7:01-7:32 was fucking amazing, had to scroll back and rewatch,” said Dick-tator69, whose profile image appeared to be Barack Obama. God, to think a modest girl like me could go from working a desk job at an office to screwing before the President of the United States of America... God bless this great nation of ours...
And then, well, of course I went back to the 7:01-7:32 mark in the video to which Dick-tator69 was referring, and it was pretty fucking hot. I'm glad you liked that Dick-tator69, but don't let Michelle find out what you secretly get up to in the Oval Office!
I scrolled back down, to find that a user named Stifferelli had replied to the President's comment with “Rihanna seex tape here:”, followed by a link to a URL which I did not click.
There was actually one comment that got me pretty fucking pissed, from DildoJoe8==D---, which read as followed: “Not the type of bitch I'd wanna wife up, but I'd definitely pass her around with the guys ;)”.
Well, fuck you, DildoJoe8==D---! I wasn't going to marry you in the first place!
I briefly contemplated creating a ghost account for the site and starting an intense flame war with the son-of-a-bitch, but recalling my good Christian values I decided against it, having learned at this point that turning the other cheek was always the best policy, wink, wink.
Buuuuuut, comments from strangers and racking up view counts aside, I decided after a while that I was getting to a point where my obsession with my own porno was getting extreme, and I decided that the only way for me to get through it was to have the memory beat out of me.
Which just so happened to be my plan for the next item on my Fuck-It List...
I closed my current internet tab with the video still playing, the page disappearing just in time for me to miss my beautiful money sho
t, and being replaced with search listings for hiring a dominatrix.
I scrolled through the results, and found a service that looked local, Deidra's Dungeon. I opened up the page, and was reminded immediately of what a far cry this next sexual challenge was from anything I'd done up to this point.
Onscreen, I witnessed a dark, dingy, cavernous room, the walls lined with miscellaneous instruments of sexual torment, sharp and gleaming and dangerous, with three women standing in front of the entryway, the three doms of Deidra's Dungeon- Deidra, Dominique, and Delilah. My eyes skimmed through the Welcome text:
“When you step through the doors of Deidra's Dungeon, you leave behind the mundane world of everyday reality, and enter a realm of pure, depraved, taboo carnal fantasy. Leave your inhibitions behind and let the Mistresses take over, leading you through the menagerie of fetish fulfillment and leaving you screaming for more... Our variety of equipment has been carefully selected for your torture by the Three Mistresses, and ranges from St. Andrews Crosses to human cages, queening stools and bondage frames, a king-sized bondage bed, bonding tables, toilet boxes...”
Holy hell...
It took me some considerable internet scouring before I could figure out what half of this shit was, but I was getting slick as sin between the thighs, and before I'd even had time to figure out what all these cooky contraptions did I was pretty much sold on the idea from the get-go.
And speaking of sold, it was sort of amusing in some sections of the website how far the doms went to distinguish the services they offered from prostitution, not that I care about that either way. And I'm not like, saying they were wrong to do so, it's just kind of funny in places how they put “fetish fulfillment” as its own niche, like that makes it somehow different from straight up paying for sex. I didn't see any real shame in it, I mean after all, I had just screwed in front of an audience for payment. Life's all just one big fuckfest when it gets right down to it, and prudes are the only people who make it hard for those who like to enjoy that sort of thing.
I clicked over to the site's booking inquiry form, illustrated with a photo of a man harnessed up in a sex swing with clothes pins fastened all around the circumference of his penis, and an expression of excruciating agony on his face. Quite charming, really.
I scrolled down through the list of questions being asked under the booking section, such as explain what sort of kink/fetish you have and what you're looking for in your session, gender, age, preferred dom, dominant type, how do you feel about pain, session length, my preferred date to meet, things I liked and didn't like, a basic description of my health, and a place to include anything else the doms should know about.
Section by section by section I filled out the inquiry form, including the concept of my Fuck-It List and how it had inspired me to pursue this course of action, then proofread all that I'd put down, and submitted my request for a booking.
It was time to receive my punishment like the bad little girl I'd been...
Chapter 2
Deidra the dom was as about as fiercely erotic looking of a woman as I do believe I have ever seen in my entire life.
Er, I mean... Miss Deidra... My apologies to the Madam if she's reading this, please, God, don't hurt me...
I stepped into the dungeon and saw her standing there with her hands held impatiently to her side, a bull-whip curled in the grip of her left fist. She had on more cowhide than an Amish pasture, dressed in a crotchless leather corset that pushed her tits close together for my enjoyment, and gave me an incredible hot view of her sopping wet gash, sparkling at me from across the dingy lighting of the dungeon. She had on knee-high stiletto pumps with heels the size of tent stakes, which I imagined she used to step on her victims' windpipes, and fishnet stalkings supported by garters. Her black leather gloves squeaked as she flexed her fingers, and she wore a dog collar so tight that I was somewhat skeptical as to whether or not she was able to breathe with it on her. Her green eyes pierced me like knives from across the room, her long eyelashes flashed angrily, her red lips blazed in quite the expression of contempt, and her nostrils flared in a fashion that was quite reptilian as she glared at me with what looked like murder in her eyes.
I swallowed hard, and my knees began to shake. This gorgeous sexpot was going to tear me a fucking new one...
Her footsteps clacked loud as she sauntered toward me, her voluptuous hips bouncing about madly with each tantalizing step, her tits jiggling about on her chest, both pairs of her lips shimmering like sunlight on water, causing me to shake from head to toe with fright.
She was on me now, staring ravenously into me, our faces aligned, her breath blowing hotly into me, so warm and so agonizing that I began to sweat.
“Welcome slave....” she said, and suddenly I gasped. Her hands were on my breasts through the fabric of my clothes, the leather gloves creaking loudly as she squeezed and squeezed and squeezed, digging her grip painfully deep into my tits, so hard I thought she was going to tear them straight off of my body, causing me to cringe, opening my mouth wide in agony, and squinting my eyes tightly shut. She leaned in, and pushed her face into mine as she continued to crush me, putting her lips onto mine, letting her tongue seep through my open mouth, gagging me with the ferocity of her kiss, her taste delectable but aggressive, my head beginning to spin almost instantly.
She pulled away, my lips still tingling with her flavor, and she proceeded to lift her fingers to my head, stroking my hair in an almost loving fashion, making me unreasonably nervous. “While you are here, I expect you to do everything I command you in order to please me. Is that understood?”
I was getting more and nervous by the minute, unexpectedly so, in fact- I began to wonder whether I'd signed up for more than I'd bargained for, and how bad things would eventually become if they were already this rough. I nodded, but this did little to satisfy her. I shrieked as I felt her hand clutch the back of my hair, tugging it furiously away from my scalp, the pain shooting through my skull like hell. “Speak up, slave. You will answer my questions with 'Yes madam,' and 'No madam,' at all times, is that understood?”
“Yes, madam,” I nodded, tears beginning to trickle down along my cheeks from the pain, “Understood madam...”
For the first time she smiled, a smile full of pure and unrefined evil, making me as wet between the thighs as it made me nervous.
“That's my little whore...” she said, like a parent showing signs of approval to their child. “Now strip...” Suddenly she cracked her whip, making me jump in fright.
“Yes madam, yes madam...” I sputtered, and scrambled to peel out of my blouse. I'd just gotten it over my head when I heard another supersonic crack of the bullwhip, and the mistress's shrill voice, “Faster, you cunt!” I tried to hurry faster, pulling my skirt down along my thighs, to my knees, down to around my ankles, but once again the crack of the whip, causing my blood pressure to skyrocket through the roof, my heart smacking against my chest like a drum...
Why the hell was this supposed to be pleasurable again?
But then, at the same time... It was beginning to grow just a tad bit exhilarating...
I scrambled out of my panties, kicking them across the floor to the heap where my skirt and blouse lay crumpled, and I caught Deidra's eyes roving straight to my glistening pussy, aroused as it was becoming with the sexual pressure being exerted upon me, but then her irises roved up to mine, and I could tell she was growing impatient for me to get undressed. I tried to pick up the pace once more, scrambling behind my back to try and unhook the clasp of my bra, but my hands were beginning to shake with anxiety, and despite my years of experience revealing and concealing my lady lumps, I suddenly couldn't seem to get the goddamn thing off of myself for the life of me.
KRACK! KRACK! KRACK!
I actually shrieked this time at the triple snap of the whip, and the adrenaline was enough to push me over the edge, and to successfully shed the bra from my body, my tits now hanging out in the open for Deidra to peruse at her c
hoosing, but by now the damage was done, and it was far too late.
“I'm afraid you were far too slow, my slave... I'm going to have to punish you for your slothful ways in delaying the gratification of your queen...”
“I- I- I- M-my apologies, m-my queen... I understand... P-please do to me what pleases you... I wish nothing more than to serve my glorious mistress...” She smiled once again, and I knew I was about to pay hell for my sins.
The next thing I knew, the mistress's hands were all over my nude flesh, touching, squeezing, clawing. I could feel my circulation being challenged all over, the burning of rope against my skin as she tied off every last section of me, quarantining the blood from reaching certain regions of my body, the pressure feeling like beautiful hell on my flesh. Brusquely she tugged my hands behind my back, holding them in place behind me at an angle that was quite painful. She slid a section of rope around my wrists, tying them tightly together, my hands, I could feel, turning purple with the constricted flow of blood. She ran the rope up to around the middle of my biceps, tugging the ends around each one to a degree that was incredibly painful, like a poor man's version of bangles around my upper arms. Then, God help me as I screamed with pain, she wrapped the fucking ropes around my tits, strangling each poor booby in a hangman's noose, pulling the ropes so tightly there was actually a moment I thought my breasts would burst like two water balloons, though of course my beloved mistress was a professional, and had had much practice in pushing the human body to its limits. I was whimpering like the little slut of a bitch I was as she wrapped up the last two ropes around my thighs, keeping them apart in order to maintain access to my pussy, but compensating this mercy by yanking the ropes as snug as possible around them.
The Naughty Collection Page 27