Disclaimer 1: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are 18 years or older when in sexual situations.
Disclaimer 2: Keep in mind that this is just a story. Never attempt to do this in real life as it could lead to very dangerous situations.
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It's been a while that I have been toying with the idea of writing the story of my first time. It would seem an easy task but whenever I would try, the feelings and excitement of it all would overwhelm me so much I couldn't focus on the actual writing. It really has been on my mind a lot and now, after many months, I believe I'm finally calm enough to do so properly.
Believe it or not, even though looking back at the events now I shudder at the thought of what all could have gone wrong, and how dangerous it all was, I think that if I could go back in time I'd have done it all over again. There's no doubt that my sexual desires are really messed up in some way, but I was and still am a teenager. And I keep hearing that teenagers are entitled to do stupid things. Why should I be an exception and deprive myself of the things I wanted so much.
Anyway, I ramble. I'll try to keep the story to the point or else I'll be the only one reading it... and getting off to it again.
My name is Katiana. I turned 19 just a few weeks ago but still feel just as immature in my decisions as when I was 18 and experiencing the very events in this story. I would say a few words about my appearance but I believe it doesn't matter that much. I've been called "pretty" quite a few times, most often in combination with "shy". And even though my boobs are barely of any decent size at all, I think I would be called more things if I showed my body a bit more. As it happened, however, I would most often resort to comfortable clothes that hid most of my skin, unless I had an ulterior motive.
Ever since I had first begun exploring my sexual desires (in the safety of my bedroom), I could feel I didn't want the same things that other girls did. I've never been too social but I did have some friends to talk to and whenever we would talk about guys, their words would almost turn me off.
They would talk about how they wanted to be treated like princesses, given flowers at a first date, wanted the guy to hold the door for them and so on. And those are just the non-sexual things. When it came to the action, they wanted candles, a soft bed, kissing and stroking, a nice hard dick and a great orgasm, and honestly, I just wanted to change the subject. As I tried to think about what was so contrasting in their words to my ideas, I realised it was the very fact that they wanted stuff instead of relishing in the thought of... being used.
To me, the stuff that took place in the sex didn't actually matter as much as the fact that it had to be someone else's desires while I was, regardless of whether I wanted to or not, completely at their mercy of fulfilling them.
And here goes my messed up sexuality. If this disturbed you, you probably shouldn't read on.
Anyhow, suffice it to say, it didn't take me long to realise how submissive I was when it came to anything sexual. I began reading about it, watching it on the internet and soon it was the only thing I could think about. It became an obsession for me.
I can't recall how many sweaty nights I spent fantasizing about being tied up and used by some guy for his sole pleasure, and then being thrown aside like used goods. I would take my fantasies into realms that bordered on horrendous things, I was imagining filthy pirates fucking the hell out of me and then throwing me into a cold cell next to rats. Every time I would come I would try to get into the helpless feeling of having been fucked senseless and thrown aside all naked and hurt. It made me feel guilty that I was finding pleasure in such horrible scenarios but at the same time, it all felt so damn good. I would keep pleasuring myself to such thoughts until my pussy was so sore I couldn't even walk.
Nevertheless, eventually, I had to face reality and come out of my obsessive thoughts after all. I felt like real life had to take precedence over sexual fantasies and after a few months of trying to cut down on my filthy hobby, I eventually dared out of my comfort zone and started dating. Like a normal person, I thought.
Just a few months before the events of my first time, I had been dating a guy and while there wasn't anything special about him, there was no reason why not to take things further. I was ready to go all the way and finally have real sex for the first time. I was doing my best to get excited about it but I just couldn't get into it. Everyone around me kept telling me how important the first time was and screwing it up could haunt me for years. But at the same time they were saying all those other "prince charming" things that I couldn't relate to at all, so what did they really know?
Soon the fateful date came around and through flowers and dinner it had progressed to his bedroom. We started making out and he was unbuttoning my shirt but before he could finish it, I just had to pull away. I felt terrible. He was nice and respectful, but it just wasn't what I wanted so much for such a long time. He got angry when I told him it wasn't meant to be and I don't blame him, but I just couldn't go along with the pretence anymore. I felt like I needed to explore what my body desired and I really wanted that to be how I lose my virginity.
Of course, looking back on the events now, I don't think this would have been a traumatizing first time at all. If anything, what I actually did could have turned out so much worse than sex with any other guy I knew at the time. But I was stupid. And horny.
After I had arrived home and locked myself in my bedroom, I began my big plan. If I was really going to try to make my first time play out based on how I felt, there was much work to do. And so, like any other stupid teenager, I turned to the internet.
I had lost no time in registering on all kinds of shady websites and forums, which at the time of course seemed very friendly and harmless to me. After lurking for a few days and reading what other people posted, I began taking part in conversations and asking for advice. Strangely enough, I found some people were able to relate to my situation but their advice didn't really go beyond "hang in there".
Another few days had passed when I noticed a user who called himself "Mr V" posting "an opening" for an online submissive. According to his profile, he was from the same city as me and even though I didn't know much about what being an online submissive entailed, I figured there could be no harm in trying, and so I applied. I still have my message saved, so let me just paste it here:
"Hello,
My name is Katiana and I would like to apply for the position of an online submissive for you. I don't know much about the position and would appreciate it if you could elaborate on what it covers. I believe I'm qualified for it because my primary sexual desire is to be used and have no say in what happens.
Thank you"
Again, I can't help but look back on it and shudder. I had no idea who I was sending the message to, but here I am, writing this story with a smile on my face. I guess I was lucky.
It didn't take long for Mr V to reply:
"Hi Katiana,
I do not follow any general guidelines so the following will only apply to me. The role of an online submissive is to be tested and if successful, become a real-life submissive for me to use as I see fit. Essentially, all that is required on your part is to follow my orders to the letter and find pleasure and satisfaction in that alone. If you feel like you need more, then you are not meant for this and should look elsewhere. If you accept and at any point disobey, you cease to be my submissive and we never meet/talk again. Based on the last line you wrote, I have reason to believe you could be suitable but I can't make any promises yet. Actions will tell, not words.
Regards,
Mr V."
At this point you could fill in the blanks of what happened after I'd read his response. I stroked myself until I almost blacked out orgasming. It's good that my parents weren't home.
So it was finally happening. I may have actually found someone who would help me experience my fantasies for real. My first thought was to reply that I was ready to meet and fulfill whatever order he had for me (my mind was going through my usual fantasies again), but then I slapped my horny self and thought better of it. After all, he had been very clear that testing was necessary and I knew that I had to prove myself. And that was actually the part that turned me on even more, my mind was racing with ideas of how he would test me. And how I wanted to be tested, but that was not up to me.
I wanted him to be surprised at how well I could follow his orders. I could not afford to mess this up, I was determined to prove myself and obey to the letter, no matter what.
After I had calmed down, I mustered up my wits and came up with a reply:
"Dear Mr V,
Thank you for your willingness to accept me into testing. I'm ready to begin whenever you wish. I will do exactly as you order.
Thank you,
Katiana"
I wasn't sure if my reply was submissive enough but there really was not much to say. I had one task only and in that moment, I just knew that I was ready to do anything that would be in his next reply. The thought of it lingered in my head and actually scared me for a bit. I was so determined to do what he would order that I felt like I had no control over it. Even more than fear though, the thought of it produced arousal. As I started touching myself again despite my sore pussy's protests, another message arrived:
"Katiana,
I accept. Your first task is to speak to nobody about our conversation. More orders will follow tomorrow.
Mr V"