Why I Love Lesbian Bdsm

(I have a bunch of longer stories that I should be finishing but I'm not really feeling it right now. So here's something quick and dirty. Also obligatory I'm not a misogynist and don't support misogyny.)

I'm straight man. Straighter than most. My favorite thing in the world is playing with women. Now this can take many forms. Some days I'm the hero. The proverbial knight in shining armor. The one who gives you his seat in bus so you flash him as a means of expressing your gratitude. The one who reaches the high shelf for you at the supermarket so you reach for the low one as a thank you. The one who intervenes when the homeless man gets a bit to close so you come back to my place to thank me properly. The one who's chest you cry into when you're scared of the darkness in this world. On other days I am that darkness. I am the one who'll be your best friend until I fuck you. Your hole was subpar so you ceased to exist for me afterwards. Drugged or not it should have been tighter. I am the one who feels you up while looking you in the eye. A smile on my face knowing you dare not scream. Sometimes I'm the man who offered to give you a lift. You'll get to you destination albeit not unscathed. You could get me arrested but you won't. Your body refuses to let the one responsible for the best thing it's ever felt rot behind bars.

But you know even someone like me needs a rest sometimes. Somedays I play with my toys but other days I'd rather stay home and relax. I'm quite the go getter. Many would say I'm ambitious but even I occasionally want something I didn't work for. A spot of cruelty but not by my own hand. That's how we get to my second favorite thing in the world. Lesbian BDSM. As much as it pains me to say it, cruelty towards women is the one thing you gals are better at than men.

Yes I know, looking at me you'd never guess but it's true. Man on woman BDSM is just...so...bland. Oh look he's flogging her. The screams soothe my heart like an angelic choir. Unfortunately his joyless face ruins it. The lifeless look in his eyes tell all. The look of a man who only does it for the money. A man who sees his innocent daughter in every barely legal girl he vandalizes. A man who's gotten good at hiding his winces because every scream just sounds a bit too familiar. He may mock and deride her but his words are as hollow as he is. It's truly pathetic. Men like that can never truly show women their place.

Oh but you women. You're different. Your ability to break another of your kind is unparalleled. Divine even. Gone are those limp wristed ass whippings by a grandpa who got lost. Every strike has both power and purpose. Power to leave a mark in one stroke with the purpose of agony. I do what I want to women because they're naught but toys. Toys for me to play with, repair, break or discard. Like a piece of gum, I chew them up and spit them out. The joy this brings me is almost unending. But for you it's different. Oh yes. It's not about the joy you can get but the pain and suffering you can give. From the day woman came into existence there has been one universal truth. You all absolutely despise one another.

They say jealousy is an ugly thing but I disagree. There is nothing more beautiful on a woman.

"She has bigger tits!"

"She has a bigger butt!"

"Why can't my hair be that thick and luxurious?!"

All things you say to yourself to justify the brutality.

"How dare that cow have bigger tits than me," you say through gritted teeth as you tightly bind her fleshy mounds in rope till they're but two bulging purple orbs.

"I'm sure this whore had a bbl," you say as you paddle her ass, green with envy. Each hit echoing through the chamber like a gunshot.

"It's real, I swear!" she yells out. But her cries fall on deaf ears. You are too far gone. A frenzy has overtaken you. You will not stop until the angry purple washes away your green.

"Hair is off limits," you angrily think to yourself. "But the body isn't," you say as you tie her hands and pull them high above her head. You twirl your whip and she cringes as the gooseflesh rises. She knows you intend to leave her covered in welts. Every square inch, no matter how sensitive. What she doesn't know is your secondary objective. To make her cry and cry and cry then cry some more. Cry till her chest is wet and salty. Cry till her tears are all used up then force her to cry some more. The fire of your rage can only be doused with her tears.

That said, only a fool would think that jealousy is all there is to it. There's also revenge. Maybe she looks like your high school bully. Maybe she

is

your high school bully.

"How does it feel to be on the receiving end Amy!" you scream in your head as you shove hers in water. Her legs shaking due to the vibrator you set to max. It's been years but try as you might you'll never be able to forget the taste of cold toilet water.

"You always did have an electric personality Camille," you sarcastically think as you flip the switch. Her screams muffled by her gag as the current flows into her pussy. You remember how the most popular girl in school had a secret dark side. One known only to her single victim. The scars, no longer visible but you can still feel them. Each one has a story that you remember as though it happened yesterday. You wish you could turn the voltage up but the director won't let you. Some bullshit about not endangering her life.

"I'll hate you till the day I die," you mutter under your breath as you watch Flexi Lexi. The head cheerleader sitting on the wooden horse. Weights attached to her feet and a Hitachi to her clit. Every time she cums it lubricates the horse and she slides down just a bit further. You wonder just how long the directors will let you have her and begin rubbing yourself to the queen bitch as she straddles the unforgiving horse. You'd happily endure the same punishment later if it meant you could add more weights now. Really split the evil bitch open. Maybe then you'd be able to see what made your childhood friend turn on you in high school.

God! The sights and sounds of it all. Now do you see why I love it so much? It's a sadist's wet dream(quite literally in my case). Try as I might your inferior gender continues to outpace me in this one aspect of life. I'd be infuriated if the product wasn't so intoxicating. Once in a while when I'm slightly tired and mildly drunk I wonder what would it have been like to be born a woman? To have this otherworldly cruelty come to me as naturally as breathing. Then I remember that in life your starting point doesn't determine where you finish. Hard work can often make up for talent. I'll continue to improve and one day I will best you in the sport of female debasement. Until then, keep hating each other. I'll be watching.