It's pitch black in my room, with the exception of my computer screen. Constant thoughts flickering in and out of my head. This is right. This is who I am.
I am who I am. Submissive. This doesn't make me a bad person. I used to allow myself to be ashamed of who I am. Due to the brainwashing of my up bringing, I believed that I should hide the secret, dirty and raw part of me that craved to be released by someone. The part that loves to beg, be hurt, and made to scream.. She hid from the world.
No. Fucking. Longer.
He controls me. He tells me what to do. He brings out the inner whore that wants to be on her knees, crying and begging for him to stop, all the whole, knowing full well he won't. Is it frightening? Hell yes. Does that make it all the hotter? Yep. Does it make me want more? Every time. Let them look down at me. I don't care. As long as he is pleased with me, who gives a fuck what they think?
"Disturbed." That's what I used to get called. I'd lower my head and deny it. Now.. I'm going to smile and nod and say "You bet your ass I am."
It's ironic that, by making the choice to give your freedom over to someone, you actually set yourself free. That's how I feel. I give in, fully. I sit, kneel, or whatever he wants. I'm on display for him. I'm his to command. And in that moment.. There is a fine line between fear and arousal. And during that time where I'm in his control... That line disappears.. It's a mixture of hundreds of emotions and truly then, I am free.
It might sounds crazy to some. To be free whilst giving your choices up to someone else. But it feels right to me. And doesn't everyone have the right to be happy?
Yeah. I'm nasty. I'm dirty. I'm a whore. A slut. I'm a fucking submissive little cunt. You can call me what you want. I won't be ashamed of who I am. Oh I can be ashamed of things. I can be humiliated. But only because he makes me. I'm his possession. He decides what I do or don't do. And I'm content with that. In fact.. I crave it.
The intensity is incredible. The feel of his voice gives me chills. Seeing his name on my phone makes me shake, before I even know what he wants. He is in my head, all around me.. He knows what I need, what I'm trying to hide that I want.. And he makes me face it and beg for it. It's excruciating. Frustrating. He's not going to let me get away with pretending that I don't want it. He's going to make me own my desires and scream and cry for more. He's going to kill me with sensation. And then force me to ask for even more. If I say "I don't think I can." He's going to push me farther and say "Yes you can and you will." And I'll cum all the harder for it.
With the simplest of phrases.. My body lights on fire. I want to hide behind them. Pretend that I'm too embarrassed to say things like 'I want to be fucked like the little slut I am." Yeah. Right. Like he's going to allow it. Nope. He's going to make me say what I want and make me feel the exciting sensation of being the little whore on the inside that I've always kept hidden. Like I said.. He's in my head...
Does my pleasure matter? No. I am for his use. His amusement. His entertainment. And that's who I want to be.
There's so much to learn and I'll absorb every bit that I can.
I'm "out of the closet" in a sense. There's no denying who I want and who I am.. No going back. And no regrets. From here on out, I'm moving forward.
~Aleria