The morning after I overcame my mental block and triumphantly masturbated to orgasm, I woke up in a sort of haze. It was a pleasant feeling though like when you drink way too much, throw up, and pass out...it should be bad, but when you come to you feel almost cleansed. I felt numb to a pretty large degree in mind and body and it was so peaceful.
After weeks of agonizing torture, mostly directed at myself through depression, anger, shame, and stupidity, I felt like a different person than the confused sad creature I had been since the day Mike used and raped me. That is not to say I felt like my former self. I just felt like a different person than I had been feeling like and the change was refreshing.
I felt relaxed, contented, and though my mind sifted through the problems that had been plaguing me, it felt as if I was looking down at someone else with those problems. That was who I was and suddenly, overnight I had shed my skin and felt fresh and renewed.
I stretched and rolled about slightly under my covers and as I did my nipples rubbed against the sheets. Instantly the pain ran from my nipples through my breasts right to my heart. I froze. For seconds that felt like hours I didn't move, I didn't breathe, and I didn't think. I was still waking up and the sudden shock was like a bucket of cold water...all I could do was lay there listening to my own heart beat loudly. It was so loud I would swear the beats themselves were strong enough to vibrate through my breasts, right back to source of my shock to begin with. It was like someone softly tapping at the door to your bedroom as you tried to sleep and I could not ignore it. I quickly turned from my side to my back again, my nipples once more rubbing against the sheets in the process. "Ahhhhh," a soft painful sigh escaped me as I stared at the ceiling and dared to breathe again.
My heartbeat still rolled wave after wave of the slightest tremors, and though I would pause my breathing to look, I could just barely perceive my breasts shaking with each beat. It is a weird thing to explain but as I studied my own anatomy I became transfixed for a minute or two. It's not that I did not consider myself attractive, but I never really considered myself, and my flesh looked tantalizing in the way a cookie you know you will be punished for taking looks tantalizing.
I sat up a bit against my pillows allowing my breasts to transform into teardrop globes and as I studied them closer I could indeed see some nicks and tiny dark lines on my typically over ripe strawberry colored nipples. An image of my fingernails digging into my own flesh ran through my head. A shudder ran through my body, but to my surprise it was a pleasant feeling. Suddenly I felt powerful and accomplished remembering how I finally achieved an orgasm again. Not just any orgasm either, but one of the best in my life up to that point. I closed my eyes and tried to recapture some images of what I did, which were foggy at best, but none the less enjoyable recalling a victory.
"Ahhhh...ahhhhh...ooohhhh!" My eyes slowly opened again at the sound at my own voice. But as I focused down at my fingers massaging my nipples, I was not taken aback or shocked. I was still very much numb to most things both physical and my reaction to things that would normally give me pause. I just smiled, it felt good, and unlike before I simply didn't care. I tested myself further by pinching or twisting my nipples and though it hurt I was enjoying the sensations coursing through my body as a result. I was still floating above, somewhere distant yet connected.
I thought about Mike. I had tested my physical and now my mind was going to push it a step further. I needed to know if I had indeed somehow escaped my mental prison. I closed my eyes and threw one of the filthiest images of him in my mind as I continued to tug at myself. The image of his cock, wet with his precum, and still dripping a huge silky strand of it right in front of my face came to my mind. I didn't flinch. I let it rub against my face. I could feel his sticky member slide against my cheeks. I sensed more sweet precum dribbling out as it rubbed against me. The smell, so strong, blocking out my other senses was so intense. What was I thinking? I paused to ponder my actions and thoughts.
Was I ok? Was I truly turned on? Did I feel sick in any way as I had so often before?
I smirked at the revelation that I was free...truly free. Yes, I was ok, in fact I felt amazing. I was absolutely turned on to such a ridiculous degree that if in public I might have excused myself to a bathroom to quickly scratch my itch. And what about Mike, did it matter he was the focus of my dirty thoughts? No. Suddenly he was mere fantasy, just a filthy dirty story that I was giving myself permission to enjoy. I didn't like the guy in the story, and I hated Mike, but it didn't matter. I was detached and now I was using him to get off the way he used me. I didn't need or want his permission, he didn't have to be here or get any enjoyment out of the process that gave that enjoyment to me. I didn't have to care about being weak, or stupid, or having any feelings at all really. I was suddenly in control. It was ok to fantasy about not being in control and ...I discovered it was an irresistible turn on.
I flung the sheet off of my body and what followed was some of the most shameless acts of self pleasure I have ever experienced. I greedily pawed at my own flesh and, like a child locked in a candy store over night, I felt no regret or accountability for my actions. My hand eagerly darted down to find my swollen still sore vagina was so wet, the puddle under my butt so saturated, that I must have been leaking since I first touched my nipples.
Again I was very sore, I knew this, I could feel it, but it was tempered down like everything else and in truth I didn't care. I wasn't focusing on it, but I knew what the pain had done for me, what intensity it added to my sexual experience, and I was both accepting and excited that some of that feeling was still there. My fingers dove in deep and fast as I began moaning like there was no one else on earth to hear me. I orgasmed almost immediately, paused for maybe a minute before I felt the itch and pushed for more.
It is less important to tell you how I continued to touch myself both with gentle caresses and hard rubs or the number of finger nails marks I left on myself, but it is important to note that I never stopped. I masturbated the entire day. I lost count of orgasms which at one point in the day I had actually attempted to keep track of. When I did have other things to do, I made it a game for myself. If I had to pee I would not allow myself to go until I orgasmed first. When I needed food I drove out in a little sun dress with no panties and edged my poor weeping pussy all the way to the Wendy's drive thru. Never have I been so thankful for a long slow moving line.
I forced myself to wait until I had at least put in my order, my words trembling as I pinched then circled then pinched my clit again. Literally as soon as I could roll my window up, I moaned and exploded right there with two cars to the window. I know I was blushing when I got to the window, and who wouldn't sitting in a big wet spot your own hungry pussy caused. I had another beer on the deck, way earlier than the night before, teasing myself, knowing I would only give myself release once it was finished. There truly was no shame at all; I wanted any and all feelings and damn the taboo. I sat right down, lit a smoke, and slid that empty bottle up under my dress and buried the neck inside myself. It's nothing original perhaps, but nothing I would ever have done before and there I was pumping away without a second thought. I orgasmed twice during that cigarette and probably took less than three drags off of it the whole time.
Bedtime I masturbated, and then I showered, and then after a while of lying there thinking exquisitely dirty thoughts, I started to touch again as I began drifting in and out of conscience. I woke up at some point in the middle of the night, the side of my leg resting against the still damp spot on the bed I had made earlier, and still half in dream world I reached down between my legs and felt for the source of my wetness. I have some vague memory of imagining myself to be lying there in the dark as a stranger molested me in my sleep. My fingers were their fingers and I allowed them to touch and grope me as I pretended to sleep. I let the stranger in my mind to continue to explore the source of my wetness until once again the feeling of orgasm washed over me and I truly fell back asleep with the stranger's fingers still deep inside of me and the palm of their hand cradling my exhausted clit.
In the days and weeks that followed, I experienced nothing short of a sexual revolution of the self. I reveled in how easily I could orgasm and continued to enjoy my body like someone who just discovered that touching themselves could feel so good. Of course, it's true I continued to explore and experiment with how pain added to my enjoyment and I continued to fantasize about my experience with Mike. It wasn't long though and I became somewhat bored with the same images and started imagining others. It could be anyone and that was half the fun of it. People I would never normally find attractive or interesting, and that was half the point. It could be a random person at work, or a classmate, or a cashier at the 7-11. Always in my mind they had control but I had control of my mind so my fantasies continued to blossom.
As a result of this new found self, I was happier, more confident, and generally back to what most people considered to be my old self. I was going out more, even flirting again with guys and girls, and just felt on top of everything again. It was very empowering and in truth it was probably the height of any masturbatory experiences I have ever had in my life. I was having such a good time that I was even entertaining the idea of being with another man physically again though I wasn't ready to admit that to myself or that my sensations were beginning to plateau.
I can still remember when I came up with the idea to have another after work party at my place again. My birthday was at the end of the week on Sunday, I knew I would have a few days off after to do whatever I wanted, and I thought what a better way to start it off than to have folks by my place to celebrate after work Saturday. I even toyed with the idea that I might get lucky and Ian would come and maybe spend the night. I ended up switching with another girl and worked the afternoon shift instead of the evening shift so I would have hours before anyone came by. I got everything together the day before with drinks, and cleaning, and so forth. When I got home from work and stripped down for my shower I immediately started touching myself as I had been doing for weeks. I came close to orgasm and stopped. It was too easy; I wanted to challenge myself more. I told myself I could edge as much as I wanted until people stopped by, then my little pussy could wait...wait until either Ian took care of my needs or I did so after everyone left. It was a win-win scenario in my mind and a fun little tease.
I showered and then put on that same slinky little sun dress I wore out when I got off in the Wendy's drive thru. It hugged my breasts and waist quite nicely and rode up to mid thigh while standing...even higher when I bent over or sat down. It was a strapless number of dark purples and blues and since it held my breasts firmly and my nipples wouldn't be obvious through the dark patterns I decided no bra. I was going to have fun with this after all...and up until it got close to people coming by I went about the apartment with no panties either. Stopping now and then to edge myself and though I was teasing the hell out of my body it was definitely enjoying the game.
As the texts began to start that people were leaving and on their way, I thoroughly enjoyed pulling a fresh clean pair of purple cotton panties up my legs until they sat snug against my hips and my swollen wet lips. I could almost hear the imaginary protests of my vagina not wishing to be "put away" like some sad toy that has enjoyed your attention but has been put upon the shelf to watch as you leave it behind.
That was the point, I told myself, and grabbed a beer and headed to the porch for a bit of distraction and some fresh air.
Soon my friends and coworkers started to arrive as early as sunset for some of them got cut early. We talked and laughed and drank and I was truly happy. As the next hour or two passes, more and more people arrived bringing with them more drinks and "happy birthday" greetings and hugs. Ian was there now and seemed very happy to see me. I had, over the past weeks, started flirting with him again, like so many others, and he flirted back...perhaps it was my imagination, but it had seemed he did so with more conviction and allowed his flirts to go a bit further than ever before.
We talked over a beer and I noticed he kept finding a reason to rub up against me or touch my arm or hand. I didn't know how things would go but however they ended they seemed to be going in a very positive direction.
