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I have no interest in promiscuous women or weak women who are willing to grin and bear it. A woman who submits to something remote from her own desire does not excite me.
I want that magic elixir, that electric current in a woman who needs to be hurt, degraded, humiliated and used. When her libido surges she will offer herself, craving pain and abuse.
We will collude together in ever more creative and extreme ways to torture and defile her. There will be a lot of talking, brain storming and planning while we are both vanilla and human. And then we will be animals. She will absorb the sadistic perverted debasement I subject her to and be remade as a woman.
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I am getting to love fake profiles, they are a complete scream. The sad pathetic scammers try so hard its almost like they have painted a sign on their forehead. Good value really! |
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On the subject of fake profiles: There are so many dead give aways that make it obvious a profile is fake or at the very least commercial (and trying to hide the fact). The commercial ones that come right out and say "I'm a prostitute, give me your money" are a bit easier to spot. It is too funny how obvious a fake profile is... I love how stupid scammers are :) :) |
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I was thinking to myself the other day that if I was to ever get married, I would be doing some pretty perverted things to my little woman. Now chances are most vanilla women would either freak out, or not be into all of it or just plain run for the hills. So making a start with a woman who self identifies as a sexual pervert from the get go would save me a bit of time. I might have to start taking this sad sorry website a bit more seriously. |
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Its beyond even a million to one, but if we ever get together - you and me, you're going to spend a lot of time tied with my cock down your throat. Just so you know. |
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That said, there is something about a pic of a woman with a cock down her throat. |
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Its a strange thing, but I often get turned on more by reading what a woman wrote about herself than by looking at her pictures? |
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I love love love how some women put on little itty bitty panties, get in front of their bathroom mirror with their camera and then twist around for a snap of their asset. Oh yum. |
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I'm absolutely convinced, even so called "vanilla" relationships have an emotional basis in one partner (say she) allowing the other (say he) to do deviant, unwholesome, perverted things to her mind and body. |
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I need an on call 3 holes fuck pig. |
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When you read a womans profile that says "I'm under consideration" ... you're reading the profile of a moron... an actual living specimen. |
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"What is it that You like/enjoy about humiliating her and seeing her suffer so?"
It is not about knowing the control or the power I have over her. That goes without saying and is not interesting. I could physically overpower her and do whatever I want, or I could discard her at will. Having her suffer is simply pleasurable. While I am in pleasure, she is in pain and she endures purely for my satisfaction. That is gratifying. |
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Don't put up pics of yourself with other men!? |
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Came on the site to have a look. Nothing but trash...again |
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It started off as light hand spanking with her over my knee. That aroused her. Soon she needed more, a hairbrush or a shoe across her ripe round peach halves to make her moan and cry for more. Then it took a cane, eventually with full force to mark her rear end with red blue welts and have her clit bulge engorged and desperate. It got to the point where I had to thrash her as hard as I could with a leather belt to make her orgasm. She would lie on the bed, face up naked, arms outstretched above her head, legs open... and I would flay her, the wide welts rising on her milky skin, her nipples hard like bullets and her cunt bulging swollen and wet between her legs. Now I attack her. We go somewhere very private, away from careful ears and prying eyes, a country cottage or a beach house. After supper and a few drinks she becomes very quiet, completely still and I know she is ready. She hardly seems to breath. In my mind I open a cage, that place every man keeps his horde of demons. I open the cage and feel the demon rage flood my veins. This weak woman disgusts me, the flat of her cunt, the swell of her breasts. She is alien. I rush at her, grab her hair and slam her against a wall. My fists smash her tits, smash her face. I knee her in the groin and throw her like a rag doll, her limp body sailing across the room, bouncing off the dining table, falls heavily in the kitchen. She lies bleeding, twitching, the orgasm coursing through her. It will be an hour at least before I am spent and she is a bruised and bloodied, swollen, naked fuck puppet. Then I will fuck her. As she lies bent and broken on the floor, I will clench fist fulls of her skin and hair and pull her onto my shaft, spearing her brutally over and over. The pleasure of seeing her so used up and helpless builds a tight heat in my groin that explodes in a volcano of goo. I pump it into her, filling her open gash with all my power and my sadistic pleasure, filling her with my seed. |
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When they learn what they are for, it does violence to them, some of them. For others it is an awakening. Something changed between the years, when we were class mates or playground friends. Then I noticed something in the shape of them, something in the way they move, the way they sound... and "who" they are, drowned out under "what" they are. I rode bicycles with Angiemay, explored dustroads and pretend adventures in cool shaded woodland with her. We grazed our knees catching bugs in drain pipes under the road, made plans to kidnap the Turner twins. One day Martin and I and Angiemay, three alone at her parents home, found rope in the carport. I do not recall exactly how or the moment three became two and one. She giggled and shrieked, high pitched and girly, her face flushed red and all her tense caution obvious as we tied her to the verandah pillar. Martin and I laughed and teased, poking our fingers into her ribs, pulling her hair, whipping her legs with the rope tails. But underneath, was something new, something raw. I was angry. What was this conflict in me, this urge. Angiemay had broken the rules. These rounds high on her chest, standing up noticeable under her shirt with her arms roped behind the pillar, the shape lines in her thighs as her legs strained against our rope shackles, the width in her hips and the hypnotic shape in the fillets of her buttocks sparked an urge in me I did not understand. I had to hurt Angiemay, I had to make her cry. I had to keep all that heat in her from overpowering me. I had to somehow cage her, bind her, see her crawl and offer herself to me. |
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Q: Whats the difference between a vitamin and a hormone?
A: You can't hear a vitamin. |
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Do you know how to put on the little girl act?
Watch Nicole Kidman in Bewitched as many times over as you have to and modify your personality. |
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| Age: 19 |
| Newark,
Ohio |
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