My Many Fantasies: My Job at The Max Security Prison for Black Men

inspired by this:

In this fantasy i am desperate for a job and find myself begging for anything i could do to a warden of a high security prison for the nastiest of criminals. Of course it turns out the warden is quite crooked and take total advantage of my situation. I am given a job in HR and find myself to be the only female and the only employee in the "prison happiness" department (in fact I'm the only employee in that department) and my job requires my services 24/7 for 3 months straight probation. During this time my first duty is to service the warden i am to serve him breakfast every single day at exactly 7am completely naked and of course offer myself to him sexually to use in absolutely ANY way he wishes until i have the honor of his sperm which i am to beg and grovel for like a dirty slut!

For the remainder of the morning i am to work in the showers taking care of the prisoner's hygiene. I am to be naked in the shower with only a collar that says "cleaning service". The prisoners are brought in one after the other and I am to lick each of them clean ... their entire body ... and every square inch!!! Then i am to lick out their asses ... inside too!!!! I am to pay extra attention to their balls and cock. I must tease them to the point of insanity but i must not let them cum. Part of my performance review is based on how many prisoners i am able to wash and whether i was able to keep them from cumming.

At noon i am to serve the prisoners their lunch. i am to do so on my knees. before serving their lunch i must lick thier feet and ask permission to serve their lunch and after serving it i must take their cock deep into my throat and wish them bon apatite while their cock is still deep in my throat! Again i must not let anyone cum and my performance review is based on how many prisoners i am able to serve lunch and whether i was able to keep them from cumming.

The place where all the prisoners eat is a very large area with a raised platform in the middle and places to sit in circles all around the platform. It looks almost like a setup for a boxing match for thousands of spectators but instead of a boxing ring there is an open platform. While the prisoners eat i am brought out onto the platform and tied down in some painful an humiliating way. It's my job now to provide entertainment and also thank the guards for their great work. They come in groups of 4 or 5 to fuck me in the most savage ways as i scream helpless in my bonds while the prisoners cheer and call for them to go at me even harder!! After the guards are done with me and the prisoners have finished eating and enjoying my gang rape the prisoners are brought to the platform in a line where i am still bound and trembling. They come up to me in small groups and thank me for the show by spitting on me. Most of them spit in my face or squeeze open my mouth and spit inside but some spit in my gaping ass and pussy. I must thank each one out loud for spitting on me and say that i hope he enjoyed my entertainment. For this part of the day my performance review is based on a satisfaction survey the guards fill out as well as how many of the prisoners i get to "thank".

Once they are done i am to clean the whole eating area. I am to stay naked an I am not to clean my self at all. I must clean the entire eating area dripping cum and spit from all my holes! For the platform i am only allowed to use my tongue and my hair. It usually takes me a while because of all the sperm from the guards and spit from the prisoners that leaked to the floor. It is difficult for me to clean the raised seating area because of the bondage and extremely rough fucking i am not able to walk or climb well the stairs so i must mostly crawl on my hands and knees. If while crawling sperm or spit leaks out of me and fall on the floor then i must immediately lick it clean! My performance review is based on how quickly and how completely i clean everything especially the platform.

In the mid afternoon i am to kneel naked in the toilet wearing only a collar that says "Urinal". It is my job to make sure the prisoners take their bathroom break. I must beg each prisoner to pee on me while licking their feet. When they decide to do so i must spread my legs wide, push out and present my breasts and open my mouth as wide as possible while always on my knees. Every so often it is one of the prison gang leaders or influential prisoners that take their turn and for these special prisoners i must beg for their pee while licking out the inside of their asses. They also have the privilege to pee inside my throat or inside my ass or pussy and i must thank them while licking the underneath of their feet!! As you might guess my performance review based on how many prisoners i relieve in the toilet but also how much pee i swallow!

After this i am dragged out to the court yard where i am setup up on a sybian machine which has an attachment which gyrates and vibrates deep in my pussy almost to the point where it pokes into my cervix. There are 3 lush vibrators pushed into my ass. Electrodes are clamped to my clit and nipples. My hands are tied hard behind my back and a noose is put around my neck and tighten just enough to hold me up by the neck and make it difficult to breath. The warden then proceeds to control the sybian, lush vides and electricity for all to see but i am always denied orgasm. The guards and prisoners take great pleasure in watching me break to the point i beg like an animal and offer to do the most disgusting things imaginable just to be allowed to cum ... but still i am denied no matter how i beg no matter how i cry no matter what i offer. Of course i am naked and all over my body is written my full name address and other personal information along with many humiliating things like i am toilet and i am only good for raping! The prisoners are allowed to spit on me and the guards are allow to take pics or vids of me. The guards really get a kick out of telling me how they will send copies to all my family and friends and how they will make me famous on the internet. i am in complete shock and distress the whole time, my body is overloaded with sensations and then repeatedly denied release while i struggle to breath as i lapse in and out of consciousness.

After a few hours of this i am completely broken, my eyes are glazed over and empty and my body is constantly spasming and trembling. the writing on my body is touched up so that it is clear to see and easy to read and i am fitted with a new collar that say "dog slave" on it. A leash attached and i am dragged through the mud of the courtyard because i can barely move my body let alone walk back to the platform in the eating area. I am told it is supper time and i must once again provide entertainment. This time it's not with the guards but with all the guard dogs of the prison!!!!! Even in my broken state my eyes showed fear and i started to plea for mercy when the warden zaps me long and hard with a cattle prod! My eyes shoot out of head and i scream so loud no sound comes out as i shake with pain and pee myself right there on the platform in front of everyone!!!! The warden speaks to me only to say "you are a dog, you will only bark like one and you will be mated liked one. Now should me how a true bitch begs to be mated while you clean your mess with your tongue!!!" If i had any shred of humanity or dignity left then it is completely destroy in that moment as i lean down with my bare ass high in the air and start to bark seductive and desperately while liking my pee off the dirty platform floor. From that point on i was only allowed to bark and failure to do so would be met with another hard shock from the cattle prod. Everyone cheered as the guard dogs took me one after the other while i barked and grunted on their huge doggie cocks. The roughness and rawness of these large dogs bred to fight off the most vicious criminals in the worst conditions is beyond anything imaginable. The hard trusts sent my little body reeling in every direction. Every dog without exception was make to knot me and every time their cocks ripped trough my cervix and filled my womb with their hot sperm! These dogs were huge and their knots enormous so once inside me i was completely stuck for however long i was knotted. To the delight of the audience once the dogs had filled me up and were well knotted in me the guards would call the dogs to them or throw treats around causing the dogs to run around and drag me behind them like a rag doll as i screamed and screamed. Because of the knotting and games this went on for quite a long time. Eventually they start bringing the dogs in groups of three having one take and knot my pussy, another knots my ass and the other is forced into my throat so his knot is stuck in my mouth!!!!! The crowed enjoyed this to no end especially when the guards had the dogs run in different directions tugging and ripping at my body as the pulled in different direction. The noise i made where completely inhuman like an animal begging fucked to death which i probably am at this point!!!! Once all the dogs were done with me i was placed on my knees in the middle of the platform, the dogs were all lined up and one by one they were brought to me to thank them for mating me by licking their asses and pushing my tongue dep inside as far as it could go! Most of the dogs also had to pee and when this was the case i was to take their cocks into my mouth and have them pee right down my throat!!! This part of the day does not go toward my performance review it is considered an obligation and i am made to endure until each and every dog is serviced.

After the dinner show i am allowed to finally wash up and i am allowed to eat the scraps left over by the prisoners ... anything i can find on the floor i am allowed to eat.

For the next 2 days i am allowed to recover (so i can be made to live through the same ordeal over and over and over). I am placed in a large dog cage out in the courtyard of the prison. I am of course completely naked except for a collar that says "your happiness is my life". I am given only dog food to eat and when thirsty i must beg for someone to pee in my mouth. Usually during this time only the prisoners with the best behavior are granted the pleasure to feed me my dog food and serve me thier pee to drink. My mandatory morning service to the warden is the only exception where i am not in my cage.

On the third day after servicing the warden i am given to the cell block with the best behavior for the day. I am to be their slave and doe anything ... anything ... they order of me. If i hesitate even for a minute i am to be penetrated with the cattle prod and shocked from deep inside my body until i do what they ask anyway!! Usually i am made to cook and clean for them as well as bath them and worship their bodies and usually there is not a minute that goes by where there is not at least 1 or 2 cocks inside me!! at 8pm i am to be returned to the warden where i must thank him for the wonderful opportunity he gave me with this job by licking his feet and deep inside his ass. The warden then cums on the dirty floor and i am to worship and praise him out loud while licking up his sperm off the dirty floor.

The next morning it all start all over again ...

Fantasy confession.

When I first became a slave, 3 years ago, I thought, that I enjoyed bondage as much as I could. That has changed so much. When I first started I didn't crave it all the time. There's not a second of a day that I don't wish I was bound or even just had my collar on. I even now love to have pain inflicted on me. I have recently discovered my love for punching.

Back to the fantasy confession part...

My fantasies go in circles and this week we're on the gangbang. But these days it's not just your everyday gangbang. I'm always bound and hung as the men have their way with me and then I'm turned into their human punching bag. They continue to beat on me until I black out when they're done they leave me hanging until I am unable to breath any longer and die.

Hi I am doing a research project on BDSM for my Human Sexuality class and IF you are willing to answer a few questions it would really help me out.
1. Gender
2. Age
3. Do you know what BDSM is?
4. Do you find BDSM attractive?
5. Would you ever participate in BDSM?
7. 4. On a scale of 1-10, one being mild bondage, 10 being pure sadomasochistic, where would you rate yourself

Thank you very much.

Hey, i'm a 21 year old male slave from London. I'm looking for a very dominant master too own me full time, i'm fed up of having my own life and i would love to give it to someone else more deserving. i'm not very experienced in being a slave irl but i cam for lots of masters and i'm very obedient, i can cock, clean and do anything you need me to do as well as you having full ownership of my body and my holes. all I need from you is a cage to sleep in, basic food and water and a very strict set of rules to live by.
my main kinks are humiliation, pain, bondage, human toilet and whatever the fuck you want me to be into sir!

Please pm me if your interested and SEROUS i can respond with pics and location

This is the story of a spoiled teenage coed who is
forced to accompany her parents on an African safari.
She becomes separated and is kidnapped and abused by
jungle savages and other nasty sorts. There is no real
violence... aside from the rapes, non-consensual sex
and bondage, that is.

AFRICAN DRUM'S - Part 1

Kristen had whined the entire week before they
left. She had whined and sulked during the plane flight,
and was now whining, sulking, pouting, and occasionally
snarling. Going on an African safari, far from chili
dogs, pizza, MTV, and her friends, was not her idea of
a holiday.

For once, though, her parents had held firm. They
intended that this would be a good old fashioned family
holiday, and were determined to enjoy it if it killed
them, and her. No amount of whining, cajoling and beg-
ging had managed to sway them.

Thus she was now standing on the runway in a
baking heat, watching her father wave forlornly at bag-
gage handlers who zipped by as if he were invisible. It
was little wonder, what with the enormous amount of lug-
gage sitting beside him.

Kristen herself was very far from invisible to the
baggage handlers, as well as all the other bemused,
astonished and wondering Africans within sight. If she
noticed the stares, she gave not sign. She was, after
all, used to be stared at, though not in quite the same
way.

She was, as she well knew, a lovely, even stunning
young woman. Her development had started early. Even
when she was eleven years old, her physical maturity
was such that she was taken for a girl several years
older. She'd learned quickly that the men who looked at
her so closely could be manipulated in a variety of ways
to her benefit.

At eleven, that merely meant cooing and blinking
her eyes. By twelve she was wearing tight or revealing
clothes and positioning her body in such a way that
older boys and even grown men would groan and flash
carnal visual images in their minds.

By the time she'd turned thirteen, she was an
expert at manipulation, at controlling and maneuvering
men, using their weakness for her nubile teenage body
to make soft jelly of their hearts and minds, and hard
steel of their prongs.

She'd lost her cherry before entering high school,
to a handsome teacher who'd responded by changing her F
to an A. Usually she didn't have to actually sleep with
them of course. A little cooing and sultry whispers,
combined with a kiss or two sometimes did it.

For more difficult cases, she'd casually rub her-
self against them, or let them cop a feel of her boobs,
or crotch, and sometimes even jerked them off.

She'd gotten great grades in High School without
having a particularly nimble mind, or studying hard.
Others wondered about that, but as a leader of her peer
group in school, few openly questioned her methods for
academic achievement.

It was the same in college. She'd started just
this year, and had found the college professors even
more willing to come under her sway. The high school
teachers had the added worry, first of arrest, and
even after she passed the age of consent, of firing,
if caught with her.

College teachers didn't really have to worry
about that. Affairs between students and teachers
weren't unusual. They could freely make use of what
she offered in exchange for good grades, and not worry
about consequences.

Now, as she stood on the runway, clad in her
tight short shorts and her purple tank top that was
cut off just below the breasts, she was the near
perfection of a sexual creature. She didn't even have
to try and pose anymore. Any position she took could
automatically bring males organs to erection.

Her body was that of a goddess, perfect in it's
Ivory Whiteness, gleaming with health. There was not a
pimple, mole, or freckle anywhere on it. She was tall
and effortlessly graceful, her movements that of a
ballet dancer.

Her breasts were large enough to cause double
takes, but not large enough to detract from the perfect
symmetry of her shape. They were high and perfectly
round and of a firmness few young women ever achieved,
even during arousal. Her nipples were tiny pink nubs in
the exact center of each breast, which, when hard,
lengthened to an almost unnatural length, standing out
hard and ultra sensitive.

Her legs were the kind that made men run into
poles, so transfixed were they by the long gleaming
contours of her perfect thighs, shapely calves and
sweet and lovely knees.

Her ass would have won awards if such were given,
and if she had ever deigned to enter any contest. It
was the perfection other women longed for, had opera-
tions for. Not an ounce of fat, not a hint of imper-
fection marred her sweet and sumptuous buttocks. They
were more perfect in their shape when she slouched in
her sneakers than most women achieved in six inch heels
and tightly shaping pants and jeans.

Her face was the profile of delicate loveliness.
Her eyes were wide and bright, bright blue. When she
wanted, they were the eyes of an appealing child.
Within an instant they could turn sultry and wanton.

Her nose was a mere button, a little snub thing
that made the women sigh and smile. Her mouth was nar-
row and luscious, her lips full and sensuous, her teeth,
brilliant white perfection. Taken as a whole, her face
was enough to make grown men and women weep, the men
with regret, that they would never know her intimate
acquaintance, the women with amazed jealousy.

Her hair was the perfect frame for such a won-
drously sculpted visage. It was chest long and as
feathery soft and fleecy as the finest silk. At the
same time, it was luxuriously thick, cascading around
her head and splashing over her shoulders and down her
chest and back like a lustrous waterfall halted in mid-
fall.

All of these taken together drew lustful and en-
vious stares and gasps wherever she went, and contri-
buted to what was, admittedly, more than a hint of
arrogance, haughtiness and vanity. Being rich always
tended to draw people into immodesty. Being rich as well
as stunningly, dazzlingly, ravishingly, gorgeous, gave
her an ego hard to reign in, even on those odd occasions
when she tried.

Of course, her luscious silhouette and mouth
watering face were not the only reason she was drawing
stares at the moment. The main point of attraction
for the Africans was her hair, which was a bright, but
not unattractive shade of pink.

If she had been aware of the amusement, or con-
fusion her hair color was causing, she would have simply
sniffed about the crudeness and lack of sophistication
of the watchers, utterly certain that wherever in the
world she happened to be, whatever she happened to be
wearing was THE height of fashion, and that included
hair coloring and style.

She was not aware of the bewildering looks though,
since all her attention was focused on herself, and the
unhappiness and uncomfortableness she was presently
feeling. These were not things Kristen was normally
forced to contend with.

Seldom in her short life had she been refused any
pleasure, comfort or want, however fleeting or tran-
sitory. Everywhere she went she was granted boons
favors and generosity. At home, her slightest wish was
her parents most important demand. Nothing was denied
her.

Of course this went a long way to explaining her
self indulgent nature, her selfishness and vain outlook
on life. Kristen was about as spoiled as any human
being that walked the face of the earth, and as shallow
as a dried river bed.

Though she was far from stupid, an original
thought had never crossed her pretty little mind. She
followed the dictates of her social group to the
letter, her every move governed by whatever happened to
be "IN."

Now here she was sweating, SWEATING! In a sauna
that was permissible, but out in the open, in her
clothes, it was utterly intolerable.

"Dadddeeeeeeeeee," she whined. "Can't we go in-
doors where it's air-conditioned?"

"The building isn't air-conditioned sweetheart.
It's hotter than out here," he replied.

"Not air-conditioned?" She was truly amazed. In
her experience all buildings were air-conditioned. What
kind of a place was this?

"Ahhh, here comes our driver I think," her father
sighed with relief.

Kristen turned to see a boxy looking car racing
towards them in a cloud of dust. She squinted her eyes
against the sun, then put her hand over her mouth as
the thing drew up in front of them, hurling small
pebbles and dirt all around.

"You Charles Taylor?" a voice demanded.

"I am."

"Righto."

A figure jumped out of the box and moved around to
stand in front of them. Kristen looked up in disgust.
The man was in his early thirties, tall, with coarse
dark hair and weathery tanned skin, he wore a cheap
brown short sleeved shirt and dark green pants tucked
into boots, not even designer boots.

He was sort of handsome, in a rugged, cowboy type
way, with a thick, barrel chest and enormous, biceps.
His hands were big and rough from work, and his chest
hair curled out through the half open shirt. Kristen
wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"Pleased ta meet yah." The man said, holding out
his big hand at Taylor. "I'm Joe Steel."

"How do you do?" Charles said, shaking hands.
"This is my wife Lucy..."

"Charmed." Lucy said, waving her hand back and
forth in front of her face to stir a little breeze.

"And my daughter Kristen."

"Hi there Kris." he grinned, his eyes sliding
quickly and appreciatively up and down her body.

"Kristen." she said, stiffly, glaring in reproach.

It didn't do to let the help become to chummy to
begin with, and nobody dared call her Kris.

With no further delay Joe had begun hefting their
bags one and two at a time, and tossing them into the
rear of the "Rover" as he called it. He showed not
even a hint of effort at the heavy bags and was quickly
done, whereupon he jumped into the drivers seat to
await them.

Charles held open the rear door and Lucy and
Kristen carefully stepped in.

"Don't you have air-conditioning?" she complained.

"You're joking?" He laughed. "Air-conditioning!
What a laugh!" He then proceeded to laugh, long and
hard, before stomping on the gas pedal. The three pas-
sengers were thrown back against the weakly padded
seats as the Rover bumped and bounced across the dirt
field and out through the airport gate.

In a short length of time, they were driving
through an incredibly dirty and tacky looking excuse for
a city, with hordes of Black people wandering around
aimlessly and shrieking in some ugly foreign language
that Kristen knew wasn't French or Italian, the only
two acceptable languages other than English.

"How far is the hotel?" She grumbled.

"Hotel? We ain't goin' to no hotel, gorgeous.
We're heading right for the jungle. We'll pick up the
rest of the gear in Bankoland, then head inland."

"You mean we'll be traveling in this?!" she de-
manded in astonishment.

"That's it beautiful."

"But... but... but... we CAN'T travel in this!"
she exclaimed.

He looked back at her in irritation. "And just
what's wrong with this? This is a helluva fine machine,
girl. It'll take you through damn near anything without
stalling."

"How long do we have to be riding around in this
thing?" She demanded.

"This is your ride for the duration, Princess." he
grinned.

"Daddeeeeeeee!"

"Now look, precious, we could hardly travel in a
Rolls in the middle of the jungle," he tried to placate
her.

"Couldn't you get something that was at least air-
conditioned!?"

"You'll never get acclimatized with air-condition-
ing pinky." Joe grinned.

"What?"

"He means you won't get used to the heat,
darling."

"I don't want to get used to the heat!" she stamp-
ed her foot on the floor.

"You ain't got no choice there, pinky."

"Don't call me that!" she demanded, furiously.

He laughed, which did nothing to cool her temper.
She folded her arms tightly, despite the heat, and sank
back in her corner of the seat, determined to sulk un-
til she was back home again. The Rover continued to
bounce along until they reached a small village outside
town.

There they stopped. There was six other four wheel
drive vehicles there waiting. Joe looked at them in
disbelief. "What in hell?" He jumped out and went to
the waiting native drivers, chatting furiously.

"You told me to find everything on the list and
bring it here with drivers." The man in charge said,
shrugging.

"What in hell was on the friggin list?!" Joe de-
manded. He poked his nose inside the rovers and jeeps,
his face growing more and more incredulous.

Finally he came over to stand in front of Charles.

"Are you nuts?" he demanded.

"Excuse me?"

"What in hell is all this junk? You got furniture
here, fer chrissake!"

"Yes, a few tables and chairs, and cots."

"Tables and chairs!"

"I suppose you've never sat in a chair or at a
table." Kristen sniffed, disdainfully. Joe glared at
her, then turned back to Taylor. "You have any idea
what this is costing you?"

"Of course I know." Charles said with dignity.

"How about how long it's gonna take us to pack up
and set down?"

"I'm sure they'll manage."

Joe closed his eyes and counted to ten.

"It's your funeral," he said before finally,
stomping over to the other drivers.

"Really." Lucy said. "Couldn't you have found a
better guide, Charles?"

"He is supposed to be the best, my dear."

"He smells badly." Kristen sulked.

"I dare say we'll all smell badly soon." Her
father said, altogether too happily. Both women looked
at him in disgust.

They bounced down dirt roads for several more
hours, with the other cars riding along behind. They
left the road then, going through the jungle on even
more bouncy trails. Just when she was certain she
couldn't take another minute, they stopped in a small
clearing by a river.

"All right. We're here." Joe said in obvious re-
lief. He almost dove out of the rover, moving as far
away from Kristen as he could get. Never had he had to
bear such a constant unending barrage of whining com-
plaints, and snotty comments.

If she had known the fantasies he'd used to try
and block her out for most of the afternoon, Kristen
would have been outraged. In truth, they weren't all
that different from most men's fantasies about her,
except for being considerably more violent.

The dozen natives proceeded to set up the camp,
which included two large tents, each ten feet by twelve
feet and tall enough for a tall man to stand. Inside
each they carried a large round plastic bathtub, which
they set up in a curtained corner, along with the
portable toilets.

They attached round curtain rods to the tubs, then
put on the curtains. A pipe with a shower nozzle on the
top was put into place, and a generator to power the
pumps, along with other gear, was started up. One large
vehicle was entirely filled with big drums of water,
which were rolled over and attached to the pumps.

Joe sat on the front bumper of his Rover and
watched in stunned amazement as the tubs, along with
tables, chairs, benches and cots were all unloaded and
brought into the tents. Each time Kristen saw him, she
turned up her nose and sniffed in disdain. Joe imagined
what a good sturdy leather belt would do to her round
little behind.

The Taylors wandered around, enjoying the scenery,
what there was of it no further than a dozen yards from
the camp at least. Kristen accompanied her parents,
shrugging and sniffing at everything they pointed out.

He's got a big campfire going, for the atmosphere,
Charles had said, since of course they'd brought por-
table propane stoves and lanterns for heat and light.
The fire drew the only appreciative statement from
Kristen Joe had heard all day. She'd allowed that it
was "OK."

Soon after things were installed, the Taylors all
retired to their tents and the pumps started up. Joe's
mind filled with the image of the pink haired girl
having a shower and despite his irritation at her,
found his loins stirring.

Normally he wouldn't have dreamed of it, but the
little bitch had been such a snotty little thing that
he almost felt she owed him one, a look that is.

With nobody in sight, he unzipped the tent and
poked his head inside, then walked in, poking his head
out to be sure nobody had seen him. He moved across
the room to the little curtained alcove, then looked
inside.

The curtain that ran around the tub was in place
and water pattered off it weakly. The pumps were only
as good as the power source which had to be small
enough to cart around. Still, a good spray of water
enveloped the girl as she stood under it.

The plastic curtain was solid, and only her shadow
showed through. Not a man to hesitate, Joe wandered
across the few feet that separated it from him and
pulled it aside slightly.

Her back was to him, and what a back! Despite his
many experiences with women he had to swallow a sigh of
appreciation. He shook his head as his eyes beheld her
beautifully proportioned body, the lovely round swells
of her buttocks and magnificent legs.

She turned and he let the curtains fall. Then
opened them a crack. Her head was tilted back and her
hands were rubbing shampoo through her long hair. He
closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again.
No, he hadn't been imagining.

"Good Christ!" he murmured, his voice easily
covered by the sound of splashing water. What a body!
His eyes lingered over her upturned breasts, looking
even more golden and perfect as she unconsciously
thrust her chest up and out.

Her belly was smooth and flat and looked like the
softest thing on earth. Her damp pubic hair, she was a
blonde, he saw, barely covered her dark little slit as
she stood with legs slightly apart.

The water trickled off her gleaming wet skin,
giving her a slick, oily look that set his heart pound-
ing and his cock pulsing. It was all he could do to
keep from jumping in and screwing her right then and
there.

Luckily, he was a strong man mentally as well as
physically. He backed away and stumbled out of the tent
his eyes wide and dazed. No matter her personality
flaws, he was going to have the little bitch if it was
the last thing he did!

He set out to please her as soon as she returned
from her shower. His attempts to curry favor and amuse
her failed dismally however. She was used to men trying
to charm and please her and was in no mood for it. Be-
sides, he was as far from her type as it was possible
to get without actually being ugly.

His smile became strained over the course of the
evening, as his most gallant, courteous and congenial
attempts to strike up friendship, or even a conversa-
tion, failed dismally, shot down by snotty remarks,
arrogant condescension and rude and brusque dismissals.

He was in a foul mood when he went to sleep that
night. It didn't get any better the next day, as she
repeated her whining and complaining to such an extent
he was reduced to angry growls and snarls himself. When
she haughtily summoned him to her tent that evening, he
was in no mood to be pleasant.

Her constant sniveling had driven him to tear into
his stash of brandy far sooner than normal, and he was
ready to bite somebody's head off. None would be better
than hers.

Kristen was wearing a light white designer shirt,
that, because of the heat, she'd completely unbuttoned
and then tied together below her braless breasts.

That her magnificent orbs were thus encased in two
tight sacks that became translucent as she sweated, did
not apparently occur to her, and if it had, she
wouldn't have cared. Tormenting men, even ones she dis-
liked was commonplace to her.

Her shorts were the kind of baggy, multi colored
things currently in vogue in California, and looked
preposterous here, but again, that didn't occur to her.

"What is it?" He almost snarled after pushing
through her tent flap.

"This thing doesn't work." she complained, point-
ing at the shower.

"So what do you want me to do about it?" She look-
ed at him like he was exceedingly stupid.

"Fix it." She said, pronouncing each word careful-
ly as she stared at him.

"It ain't my shower." He glared.

"You were hired by my father..."

"To guide you through the jungle. You want a
plumber go and find one."

"How dare you!?" she glared in outrage.

"Oh stuff a sock in it." he snapped.

"When I tell my Daddy..."

"You can tell Daddy whatever the bleeding hell you
want you silly little cunt. I'm tired of listening to
your whining and bitching and complaining!" He moved
right in front of her, staring down angrily from inches
away. She backed up in consternation, but he kept mov-
ing forward until she was backed against a table.

He jammed his face right up against hers. "Your
shit don't stink! Do it?"

Kristen's eyes and mouth opened in amazement. No-
body, but nobody had ever talked to her like this
before.

"I... I... I..."

"Oh can it! I'm sick of listening to your whining
voice!" He shoved his face even closer, forcing her to
bend backwards across the table.

"You are the snottiest little ice maiden I've ever
seen in my life! You and your Goddam bathtubs and God-
dam CD player and your Goddam pink hair! What kind of a
crazy wears pink hair anyway!?

"It... it's the latest s... style." she stuttered.

"Style! Ha! " He backed up slightly, his eyes
glaring as he looked her up and down. "And your
clothes. You wave your little ass around and show off
your fat titties and then look down your nose at anyone
that takes notice!"

He poked his nose in her face again, forcing her
back. "What you really need is a hard belt across your
dainty little rear end! Or better yet a good hard cock
up your tight, cold little hole!"

Kristen gasped in shock, her skin flushing red in
embarrassment and outrage.

"I bet for all your showin' off your still a
stinking virgin!" he snarled.

"I... I am not!" she whined.

"Bullshit! I can't imagine you letting any man
between those legs of yours!" He reached his hand down
and cupped her left breast through the sweaty
blouse. "The only one that's ever touched these are
you!" He sneered, again putting his face right up
against hers.

Kristen was now terrified. She was in a situation
she'd never faced in her life. Someone didn't like her!
Someone was being mean to her, yelling at her and call-
ing her names. She didn't know how to deal with it and
gaped at him in shock, not even trying to slap his hand
away from her hot, sweaty breast.

"What about it, little Miss Ice Queen?" he smirked.

"Or are you a lesbo? That wouldn't surprise me. A
man hating little homo!"

"A... am not!" she whimpered.

"Yeah?" He curled his lip into a sneer, then
abruptly, jammed his big hand down the front of her
shorts. The button tore off, popping across the tent
as his hand forced into the thin garment. Kristen
gasped again, her eyes staring down in shock.

Joe's hand slid right under her panties and cupped
her bare flesh, squeezing up against her pussy mound.
His eyes continued to stare into hers and as she looked
up, she felt held there, her own eyes unable to pull
away as his fingers began to rub up and down over her
cunt.

End Of Part 1

I'm a 38-year old, bisexual male pervert, pretty well fully developed, run the gamut of doing the sex clubs, the swinging, the BDSM, the occasional streetwalker. And I'm realizing now, the only thing that gets me off anymore is the most degrading, male-dominant porn possible. Not even talking elaborate Japanese rope bondage here - just whatever has the most large things being stuffed into holes that don't fit. More or less, everything Max Hardcore does, although I can do without the clown makeup.

So, the long and short of it is that I trace most of this back to my mom - quite literally. In her bedside table were copies of the "Sleeping Beauty" BDSM novel by Anne Rice, some Anais Nin, and a couple of Nancy Friday's books. I was about in 5th grade when I stumbled across those. And, her vibrator - a tasteless, 70s beige plastic bullet.

I spent many a long afternoon while Mom was at class, laying on her bed and masturbating slowly while flipping through these books. I was quite the good reader, and had no doubt of what was going on, although a few things were hard to picture. Later on, my mom walks in on me trying a couple things out with the neighbor kid my age, and just nervously backs out of the door. Never says a word about it.

There's more like this, leading up to my getting caught peeping on her fucking her husband - a guy 15 years younger. This guy had a tiny cock, which I knew because I also found his penis extender while going through their stuff. This guy was into porn - he got unmarked brown envelopes each month from some porn club. Needless to say a few of them found their way into my stash.

Once in a while they'd rent a porno. The last one I discovered was "Taboo," which I watched mouth gaping. I would have been probably in 8th grade then. Soon after that I was caught outside their door peeping - and again, she just pretended it never happened.

I really want to tell her all this. I want to get all of the repressed things never talked about in the family out on the table, and deal with it. I've spent a while today trolling the local adult classifieds where she lives, which was tremendously exciting. It would be ideal if I could find her online somewhere, or lure her into clicking on some spam, to soften her up.

In the very vivid fantasy I had today, I totally faced envisioning what it would be like to talk to her about it. Send her an email, asking her a few vague questions, and suggest a time we can really talk? Wait until I can see her face to face?

I want it to be on the phone, though, because I don't want her to see me masturbating until I'm ready. I want to start off by asking her about those books. How much had she ever done that was in them? Did she know I spent all that time beating off in her bed?

Right at the end of high school I started fucking a student teacher (former), that was 15 years older than *me*. I wasn't very discrete about it, taking the phone down to the basement on the 50' cord to have phone sex with my older lover, who I dominated out of instinct. She knew and said nothing.

I want to be jacking off while I talk about all this, straining to catch hints of emotion on her voice, guilt, or arousal or horror. To know in that moment that I'm about to really not just push the envelope, but drive my cock right through the fucker, with potentially disastrous and career- and family-ending consequences if I read it wrong.

But right now, I'm so sure I'm not wrong. I've heard how she sounds like when she cums. I've heard her begging in a little girl voice to suck cock. If I go at her where she is vulnerable, I think her tight control will just crack wide open. Absolute truth might be laid bare, and then just sit there and stink. It would be taking a step that to most would put me outside the world of the human, either a beast or a god.

I'm going to keep thinking about this and posting here. More to come.

tmcm

Go here: sexualcontrol.com Now I know many of you are going to read this and then curl up in a little ball in the corner and cry, like a little spoiled brat. Others will get pissed off, and get all up in a huff and puff, and make absolutely no rational sense. That's fine. I understand why you would choose to be pissed. Here's how it is, and this applies to all responses as well:
Every human being has within them the potential to do or be anything. From gay to killer, from pedophile to saint. Anyone can be gay. Anyone can be a pedophile. Anyone can be a good person. Those that have the most control and are most successful in life have within them the potential to do the vilest of things. The opposite is true. Each human being has certain tendencies for behaviors different than another person. A person can have a more-pronounced attraction to the same sex or to a child. Such tendencies or desires DO NOT equal acting out on them. Desires DO NOT make you a pedophile. It's that act that does. And this is where the key to life is found. What it boils down to is choice. Yes, some of you are pissed right now, because saying such things makes you responsible. You can't blame your mom or your uncle, or a bad childhood. Many people have been molested and not ended up being molesters. It's choice, stupid. We have free will. You can make a choice. The sooner you realize this the more powerful you become. Accepting responsibility and recognizing you are free to make a choice actually makes it easier to make a choice - it gives you power, confidence, and liberty. It may not seem so, but it does. When you blame your behavior on other things you voluntarily place yourself in bondage to the belief that something or someone else is responsible. You rationalize and choose to believe something is forcing you. To believe this is a choice. YOU are choosing to place yourself in bondage to a falsehood. This is how you loose your freedom (at some point the law will take it from you if you can't choose for yourself). You don't have to believe anything. But don't tell us you didn't choose to believe nothing. You have free will. Not only is free will a gift, but it is also a declaration - a command. You are free, damn it. Don't try to deny or hide from it. Don't lie to yourself or anyone else by saying you are not. And don't let anyone take it from you! Accept this and use your free will proactively and you will come to understand the true power of free will. You WILL be more powerful. You will be happier, and have more self control. You don't have to hate yourself for the past - this, too, is a choice. Take your free will back! You will be victorious. You will truly be free. For those of you who are pissed - you're choosing to be pissed. But just give this a small effort. I dare you. Remember tomorrow when you have a desire to do something you know you shouldn't. Demand your freedom. Choose to make the choice. Only you can give free will back to yourself. That's the irony. It's always been there, it's just that you made a choice to let others tell you it wasn't. It is still in your hands. Choose to make choices that will not destroy you or another person. You are responsible - don't fear it. To accept that you are responsible actually doesn't hurt as much as you would think. Accept responsibility and that you have free will. Literally over night, your life will improve.

Go here: sexualcontrol.com Now I know many of you are going to read this and then curl up in a little ball in the corner and cry, like a little spoiled brat. Others will get pissed off, and get all up in a huff and puff, and make absolutely no rational sense. That's fine. I understand why you would choose to be pissed. Here's how it is, and this applies to all responses as well:
Every human being has within them the potential to do or be anything. From gay to killer, from pedophile to saint. Anyone can be gay. Anyone can be a pedophile. Anyone can be a good person. Those that have the most control and are most successful in life have within them the potential to do the vilest of things. The opposite is true. Each human being has certain tendencies for behaviors different than another person. A person can have a more-pronounced attraction to the same sex or to a child. Such tendencies or desires DO NOT equal acting out on them. Desires DO NOT make you a pedophile. It's that act that does. And this is where the key to life is found. What it boils down to is choice. Yes, some of you are pissed right now, because saying such things makes you responsible. You can't blame your mom or your uncle, or a bad childhood. Many people have been molested and not ended up being molesters. It's choice, stupid. We have free will. You can make a choice. The sooner you realize this the more powerful you become. Accepting responsibility and recognizing you are free to make a choice actually makes it easier to make a choice - it gives you power, confidence, and liberty. It may not seem so, but it does. When you blame your behavior on other things you voluntarily place yourself in bondage to the belief that something or someone else is responsible. You rationalize and choose to believe something is forcing you. To believe this is a choice. YOU are choosing to place yourself in bondage to a falsehood. This is how you loose your freedom (at some point the law will take it from you if you can't choose for yourself). You don't have to believe anything. But don't tell us you didn't choose to believe nothing. You have free will. Not only is free will a gift, but it is also a declaration - a command. You are free, damn it. Don't try to deny or hide from it. Don't lie to yourself or anyone else by saying you are not. And don't let anyone take it from you! Accept this and use your free will proactively and you will come to understand the true power of free will. You WILL be more powerful. You will be happier, and have more self control. You don't have to hate yourself for the past - this, too, is a choice. Take your free will back! You will be victorious. You will truly be free. For those of you who are pissed - you're choosing to be pissed. But just give this a small effort. I dare you. Remember tomorrow when you have a desire to do something you know you shouldn't. Demand your freedom. Choose to make the choice. Only you can give free will back to yourself. That's the irony. It's always been there, it's just that you made a choice to let others tell you it wasn't. It is still in your hands. Choose to make choices that will not destroy you or another person. You are responsible - don't fear it. To accept that you are responsible actually doesn't hurt as much as you would think. Accept responsibility and that you have free will. Literally over night, your life will improve.