They were there from the beginning, the sinister men, the mean ones, the gentle daddies, always with her. They pushed and prodded her, fed her appetites and introduced her to the most twisted and delicious of foods. They taught her to cry, to savor, to need, to crave. And they only did it with words, twisting up her stomach as well as her thoughts, making her confuse sensations and emotions, lost in herself, trapped in her mind, all in front of the computer screen.
But, like any good junkie, dressing up, playing on webcam, stripping, exposing her soul, sharing her mind, demeaning herself, degrading herself, the fix was never enough. She couldn’t become less, there was always a spark, a light, that fought to stay aflame, words always buzzing in her mind. The cacophony, the symphony, it was too much and she simply needed MORE.
So, she began to seek those selfsame men in the flesh, no longer pretending they would do those things to her. She needed them to be done, riding the rickety roller-coaster to higher highs. The fact that the coaster was barely held together, ready to fall apart and come crashing down, that simply didn’t matter.
The first man, he used her, he hurt her, shocking her and showing her that her make believe fantasies were just that, fantasy. Real pain hurt, not little slaps that made her purr, but impacts that knocked the wind out of her. Shaken so bad the room spun, her body filled with pains she had never experienced, could never have experienced on her own. And when she was tossed out, raw, lightly damaged on the outside but shattered on the inside, she went home and cried. And touched herself and cried. And came again to the thought of what happened and cried. Cried, for reasons she couldn’t put into words, but those words existed all the same. Normalized, everything every man had shown her, had taunted her, had normalized it all for her. She understood that on some level, but she didn’t care. Crying or not, she had came. And she wanted to cum again.
The girl began to escalate, her mouth that of a slut, opening for any cock that wanted inside. She met another older, who took the work others had started and saw the gem that laid inside her. He saw the foundation, the broken mess, the neediness, the craziness, the intelligence, the naivety. Even a tattered innocence, all waiting to be worked upon, improved. Made better. Ready to be made less.
The girl, slowly becoming other things, embraced it all. When she was taught the beauty of bruises, of pretty colors, she also learned the allure of pain, how it was secretly the greatest drug. When she was taught the beauty of being dumb, she also learned the joys of a quiet mind, one no longer racing. When she was taught how to be pretty, she also learned that there was no one way, that it only mattered if the man smiled.
Most of all, she was taught of service and in doing so, learned the most important lesson in her entire life. The freedom from choice. This would break her mind, chip away her sense of self, and in doing so, would make her more alive and free than she thought was possible. When he allowed her to be raped, when he didn’t ask her if that was OK, it shook her. Her guts twisted, but the words of him and every man before stroked her hair, thumbed her quivering lip, and whispered, “It’s OK,” And she believed them all. Because she needed to, because in the core of her being, they were right.
When he showed her off, gave her to friends, let strangers use her mouth, he never had to ask permission. It just was. Her body was his body. His wants were her wants. Sincerely, deeply, every new act, every new violence, every new rape and abuse of her body brought them closer and closer to the goal they both wanted. For her to be reduced, to be less. What was once a lump of coal was slowly being put under more and more pressure. Cracks appeared, bits of her self broke away, forever gone. With every black eye she grew wetter, with every new low she ached more, craved that drug men gave her.
Purpose.
He gave her more purpose, breeding her, whoring her, every week or month bringing new escalations. Her eyes were bright, but the mind grew duller. Edging nonstop to violence and abuse, she thought very little these days except of him. Except for them. Those waiting for her, at home, at bars, and she only would ask one thing of them, drool running down her chin and down her slit, pain, glorious pain. Picking up pace, her addiction needing to be fed more and more. More parts of her fell away, her body stretched, modified, pierced, tattooed, made better and made pretty with fists and slaps. Nothing would feed her appetite one day she dimly knew, aware on some level that she was a candle fast burning out.
The thought made her rub herself, smiling, she had been crushed down until only the diamond remained, the useless self brushed off, until there was only an it, a cunt, ready to entertain the men waiting for her. Hoping to be raped, used, sold, none of it truly mattered, as long as it was for him and hopefully for a moment, feeling alive.
The men online had been right, they had smelled it on her before she understood. She did a few lines and joined the party and screamed as the men hit her, shoved fists in her holes, as she quivered on the ground, surrounded.
Right where she belonged.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/rqu1om/they_were_there_from_the_beginning_mf