Katie thought I was crazy for going through with it, and, to be fair, she was right. In fact, thinking back on it I realize it was extremely risky. But I couldn't help myself. The idea excited me and I had to know what it would be like. What it felt like to give up control. To let a stranger have his way with me. To feel helpless and powerless. Just thinking about it again makes me wet.
I could blame my ex for everything. He opened up "Pandora's box" you could say. Before him, my sex life was normal. Missionary. Blow jobs. Doggystyle. Normal stuff. But Zack was different. He was rough.
The first time we had sex he asked if he could choke me. I laughed about it and agreed, eager to impress him with my willingness. But something clicked for me when he had his fingers wrapped around my throat as he fucked me. It was hard to breathe and part of me wondered if he actually intended on letting me go. His grasp tightened when he was about to finish. I was nervous... and uncomfortable... and so fucking wet.
The second time, I told him he could choke me again, and from there I spiraled down a hole of discovering myself. I learned that I liked the stinging pain of being spanked. That I liked being tied up and filmed and begging for him to cum on my face. That I enjoyed being blindfolded and pretending he was a stranger taking advantage of me. It was perfect, until three years into our relationship I found a video on his phone of him sleeping with his coworker. They were "just friends" he said.
I broke up with him as any self-respecting woman would do, but his mark was already left on me. I hated him but my body yearned for the things we did. For a while that hate was enough to resist my urges, but eventually the hate faded while the urges grew. It's embarrassing to admit, but I started going through my phone and watching our old videos. I touched myself as I watched him cum on my face in the video. But watching and touching myself never satisfied the urges.
Three months after our breakup I was graduating, waiting to be called up in my cap and gown. While the other students were thinking about their accomplishments and future careers, I was zoned out thinking about the porn I had watched that morning. The way the woman in the video was restrained, bent over in a pillory, while two men used her from either end. I remember feeling the wetness soaking into my panties as I walked up to receive my diploma. I felt naked walking across that stage, wondering if any of the thousand eyes watching me knew my secret.
A month later I started at a biomedical lab in an entry level position. A few months later, I finally understood the people who said going to college was a waste of time. In my classes I had learned the physiology of the human body, how neuronal networks were established and how to identify bacteria from their defining characteristics. In my workplace, I learned how to put a label on a blood tube and match the name to the paperwork. It felt like I had been trained as a five star chef only to find myself making grilled cheeses in an elementary school cafeteria.
I spent eight hours every day on second shift, sitting at a desk repeating the same task over and over. It was mundane and unfulfilling. The only positive was that you were left alone to your own thoughts most of the time. Podcasts became my new best friend, even more so when I discovered the existence of audio smut. The narrations were a little cheesy and the stories were weak but they were enough to mostly distract me from the dreary job.
Spending eight hours daydreaming and listening to sex stories left me quite worked up by the time we clocked out at 1:00a.m. Unfortunately, working weekends and second shift is a disaster for your sex life and social life, and still living at home with your parent doesn't make it any better. Most nights ended with me silently releasing my eight hours of sexual buildup in my bed, trying not to wake my mother.
That kind of lack of a social life and sexual frustration changes you over time. You start digging into new kinks. Reading smut about being taken and dominated. Watching rough porn with ropes and whips and gags. You start fantasizing about the guy you saw in the middle of the night filling his gas tank at the convenience store near your workplace. You imagine him having his way with you in the dark corner of the parking lot.
It starts with fantasies. Imagining what it's like to be forced and helpless. But eventually the fantasies aren't enough. You yearn for more, for human interaction. You make an account on a website for people that share your kinks. Then you upload a picture of your ass bent over and messages flood your inbox. Some turn you on, some gross you out, and some are just funny, and you answer some but it's all just words and fantasies. Until he messages you.
DomDaddy72. I still don't know his real name, but I learned that the 72 was his birth year. He was fifty-one years old; Three years older than my mother and two years older than my father, wherever he is. I thought it would be strange talking to a man thirty years older than me, but it wasn't. He was a gentleman and flirty and confident, and he lead the conversation.
When I asked his name, he told me to call him daddy. I could feel the wetness developing between my legs every time I called him that. He told me to show him that wetness and I obeyed, sending him a picture of my pussy glistening.
We continued sharing pictures of our bodies but not our faces. He was tall, broad and built like a bear. His cock looked large, even in his big hands. He praised my body, the first person to make me feel like my pale white skin was beautiful. He reassured me, telling me he preferred smaller breasts when I showed him my B cup breasts and small perky nipples.
I touched myself as we chatted, imagining what it would be like having his weight on me. When I told him that I was, he told me I wasn't allowed to unless I asked him first. I could've lied but obeying him made it all the better.
I begged for his permission but he made me work for it. He told me to take a picture on my knees begging. I think I impressed him with the surprise sharpie message on my stomach that said "Please Daddy can I cum for you?" Never in my life had I came so quickly, with his approval of course.
My days at work became a game for us. On my breaks I would read his messages and escape to the private bathrooms at work. He would have me take nudes in the bathroom. Have me take videos of myself playing for him. Tell me I'm not allowed to clock back in until I cum for him. My boss had to have a discussion with me about my long breaks.
Our adventures became more risky and exciting. He sent me money to buy a wireless vibrator that he could control. My eight mundane hours of work became a challenging game of hiding the pleasure vibrating between my legs from my coworkers. I was a professional at the game, carrying on occasional conversations with my coworkers without a single hint. Until one day my coworker Katie invited me to lunch with her.
Katie was close to my age and very friendly. We got along and shared our dissatisfaction for the work we did. When she asked how I stay awake at work, I jokingly told her I listen to smut to keep the blood flowing. She laughed and said that was an amazing idea. Eventually she opened up to me about her "second job," where she shared photos of herself online to subscribers. She said with a body like mine I would make a killing.
One day we were having lunch together in her car. She was showing me the photos that she would post on the website. I wondered what she would think of the last picture I had posted on my account on the kinkster website, at daddy's request. It was a photo of my ass, two fingers buried knuckle deep for all to see. I took a sip of my soda, thinking about the photo as the vibrator silently hummed inside my pussy. Suddenly, the toy turned to max power.
Shocked, I dropped my drink on to the floor and moaned before slapping my hand over my mouth. My face flushed red with embarrassment. I looked over at Katie who was utterly confused, but I couldn't fight the sensation. I rubbed my legs together as it continued furiously vibrating, completely audible to Katie. Finally it turned off entirely and I sat there silently, hiding my face.
I explained the outburst to Katie and she laughed. I was shocked at her acceptance of it. In fact, she was even curious about how it worked and who was controlling it. I spent the rest of the break explaining everything to her as she listened, intrigued. We became best friends after that.
He apologized that night saying he got carried away. I told him it was alright and explained what had happened. He said he would make it up to me, but that I had to trust him. I was confused but told him I did. That's when he asked to finally see my face and to know where I worked.
My heart raced and my hands started sweating. Up until then, it had all just been fantasy. There had never been talk about actually meeting. I didn't even know his face or name. What if I showed him my face and he disappeared? What if he was a serial killer? My mind raced with what ifs.
I drafted a message with an explanation that I wasn't going to share my face. Then I deleted it. Then a message about how I don't know him. Deleted it. I looked at myself in the mirror of my bathroom, my nerves shaking. Finally, I raised my phone for a selfie, snapped, and sent.
Time froze as I waited for his response. The seconds turned to minutes. I started to regret and doubt sending my picture. But then he responded, praising how beautiful I was. He loved my long black hair and my green eyes. I smiled at his approval and thanked him. Then I sent him the address to where I worked.
Another long pause. What was he going to say, I wondered? My phone buzzed. He thanked me for my trust in him. Then provided me with instructions to keep the vibrator on at all times and to not touch myself without his permission before telling me good night.
