Like many girls on this sub, I grew up religious. Modest. Covered elbow to ankle. Not allowed to touch a man. Repression breeds perverted sluts. No two ways about it.
By 18 I’d only slept with my high school boyfriend. Nothing special. I pretty much only interacted with people in my cultural and private school communities.
Yet I was obsessed with beautiful, frilly lingerie. Spent my paychecks on Agent Provocateur. Changed with the windows wide open since 16 to give my neighbours a little treat. Bought latex Vivienne Westwood heels.
At 18 I was a size 2, 5 foot 7, runners body with disproportionate F cup tits that were so perky a pencil wouldn’t even stay under them. Narrow, boyish hips. Tanned, big brown eyes, huge lashes. Unique beauty. I always wore skanky look at me outfits, and still do, even though now, at 25, my tits are a little softer, cheeks a little more prominent. I’m a 4 and H loves me more than ever.
I was this good girl, sheltered, ski holidays, wanted for nothing, wrapped in cotton wool. Remember the internet 2012-2018? Filthy Tumblrs with blogs about BDSM master slave relationships full of graphic images of women hung from hooks? Personal blogs about slut adventures? Nothinf like the sanisised, SEO driven content of the internet today. l would spend hours on those throughout high school and uni. I bought whips and bondage lingerie for Halloween ‘for a laugh’. Wore a steel boned corset and stilettos to school at 16 for halloween mufti day that pushed my tits to my collar bones and waist in like a wasp, because I was ‘a barbie for Halloween’. I was detentioned for that one and truly had no idea why. I looked good (age of consent here is 16, chill!!).
I would drip hot wax on myself or rub glass shards on my skin to ‘focus as I studied’. I was one kinky little bitch but didn’t know it yet.
This is the 7 year story of my 7 year (and going) romance with H.
At 18 I got a job at Australia’s chain lingerie brand, and met R. She was my age, 18, white – Australian (I am ethnic). I’d never known anyone like her.
“Do you party”, she asked me before new years. She was new to the city.
“Yeah I party”. I’d never had more than joints and vodka.
I rock up to her new years party and its more Aussies. Mountains of coke, and I mean a plate and what looks like a cooking cup worth of white powder. I had a few lines when I rocked up, not even knowing what it was. Wearing a tight white mini skirt, little burnt orange crop top, no bra, nips showing through.
MDMA. What’s that? 3 caps in. Her brother in law H was at the party. I guess me, R, and another 18 year old, private school hottie colleague were the eye candy for what was, in retrospect, a party for bad men.
H was 21. Huge blue eyes, Nordic looks, cheekbones, golden hair, a six pack, scars, broad shoulders, a tradie, the whole shebang. I flashed him that night and he felt my tits. I almost slept with him but chickened. Men intimidated me, to be honest. My boyfriend at the time was a straight twink. I didn’t have the confidence to even wrap my head around 100KG of 21 year old muscle with a jail body.
Fast forward over the next six years, where H and me saw eachother at R’s family events. I went though various relationships and slut phases, as did he. In retrospect I was the one that got away, that elusive fuck.
Finally, I was single and we went on a date. Second date sex. First, he gave me a massage and it was the best I’ve ever had (I am a massage therapist). He knew my body better than any man ever has. I knew I was putty in his hands.
We went on a journey together of gradually escalating sex. We fell in love. I’ve never met anyone as accepting and adoring of my hectic ways as him. I wasn’t a spinner to him, he wasn’t a spinner to me. We were finally at home.
And the sex got nastier and nastier. Each time he took me one hairs breadth past what I knew sex to be.
This is the story of the first time he treated me Nasty.
I bought a cheap body stocking from a dodgy sex shop while shopping with my gay friend for his amyl (lol). With a cut out crotch. At this point I was an Agent Provocateur girl. It was the most whory, trashy thing I’d ever owned or worn. I liked dressing skank. This was whore.
I came out one night wearing it and I was so embarrassed. Crossing my legs to cover my pussy. We were dead sober.
H’s eyes went big and black. I knew H had been to jail for a violent crime. That he had really hurt people. That he could probably end my life. And yet in bed would always take me one hairs breadth over my limit to the edge of ecstacy. This made me so wet. The power he had over me.
Time slowed and my head went quiet as he cuffed my narrow wrists TIGHTLY in Japanese leather cuffs to a bar behind my back. He pushed me onto my stomach and pulled my bare, exposed ass up. He didn’t bother talking to me, because a stupid slut doesn’t deserve an explanation.
Face pressed into the mattress I couldn’t see a thing. The world narrowed to a silent pinpoint like during a running race sprint.
I felt a gentle drag on my back. The whip I had bought years earlier. Stroking lead to stinging, which lead to the most magical, electric body sensations I’ve ever had. By this point time didn’t exist, like I was on acid. I was travelling though the cosmos like I was astral projecting in meditation.
Stroking started stinging and at this point I am sure he was properly whipping me. But I had never been whipped and had no idea what these amazing sensations were. My mind had been blown.
But H wasn’t close to done. In our relationship, I told him early that I ‘didn’t do anal’ (I wanted him to think I was a lady). I guess he took that as a personal challenge. Next thing I feel gentle biting on my tight, tiny, perky ass. His tounge circles my asshole. Lube. A finger so gently inside. He warmed up my asshole with so much gentle love and care.
At this point my hips are bucking against his mouth and hands. I want his cock to demolish my asshole and break my narrow hips in two with his huge, muscle body. By this point he’s grown to 6’5. 120 KG. Solid body from 8 years of hard, physical labour off the back of a 3 year jail body built on rice, tuna and hours a day of calisthenics.
Finally his cock enters me and I melt. I’m still cruising along in what I now know is sub space. Its like the womp-womp of an MDMA peak in a concert in a crowd. I am tiny in a huge universe like I am on acid. Its like the silence of the athletic zone. I am zooming through the infinite, black cosmos like I have meditated for years.
At some point he is pounding me, whipping me, twisting my arms behind my back, spitting on my hair, shoving my face into the pink bedspread of my girly room on my trendy, wicker queen sized bed. He has ripped a bigger hole in the crotch of my suit.
Then the final degradation. I am on the verge of orgasm. He pulls out my Hitachi and holds it to my clit. I come hard. I spasm for a minute or two on his cock, bucking my hips so it goes deeper and deeper. He finishes raw into my asshole. I am a slut who is so worthless that H won’t even use my pussy. I can come with a cock in the ass like the dirty, worthless slut I am.
We finish and kiss and cuddle. I am trembling. Incoherent. I can barely stagger to the bathroom my hips ache so bad. My asshole has this beautiful full, used sensation. I peel off the bodysuit and my back is bright red.
Afterwards, I did some research and realise I had entered subspace. A couple months after that I was pregnant to H. Do you blame me?
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/102zid8/became_someones_own_little_whore_fm