I woke-up to the warming rays of a summer's early evening, streaming through the window and slowly adding a touch of confusion to my grogginess. The stark surroundings and plain furnishings reminded me shortly, that I was in my brother Tony's bedroom. A hard night had led to deep sleep. My brunette locks were splayed across the pillow like a tainted halo, and my body exhibited the black and blue indicators of some rough treatment. I was sore and stiff from contorting my tired frame into excruciating sexual positions to please the hardhanded demands of my late-night paramours.
My sleep was remarkably sound considering the images that tortured my every waking moment since I left the dance last night. In the past twenty-four hours, I spent the last moments of my high school career at my first formal dance, I was raped by men in two different cars- three hours apart- and lost my virginity before giving my first blowjob. It was an eventful evening.
The funniest thing about it was that after raping me in his van, Adam, the guy I knew briefly from a chem lab, gave me old sweatpants and a shirt as a replacement for ruining my gown, then drove me to the after-prom, where I might find a ride home. Then I met Chuck, the chauffer that drove us to the prom. He was to be my knight in armor, until he forced me to suck his mammoth cock. He ripped my (Adam's,) shirt to shreds getting at my tits, and then surrendered his suit jacket, for the drive to my brother's apartment.
They both turned-out to be friendly and also to be semi-noble. "Gentleman-Rapist" may become a new category of gender-identity. But they both taught me valuable lessons. I have determined that I like being the submissive one in a sexual liaison. It doesn't really bother me to be degraded and humiliated if it leads to sexual pleasure. I actually get turned-on by having my hair pulled or being called a slut. My arousal heightens when I'm physically overpowered and forced to perform kinky, illicit perversions on a more dominant partner.
In my brief time having physical relations, I have not had much conventional sex. My first experience was with two women on my softball team who were "Lipstick Lesbians." When not playing ball, they wore frilly outfits and makeup, high heels and low-cut blouses. But at a party where they introduced me to vodka, took me into a back bedroom and let it be known that they wanted their pussies licked, their sexual dominance emerged with force.
Word soon got around that I was susceptible to alcohol and a stern tone. Another teammate whom I thought was sorry for injuring me in a practice, allowed me to use her Jacuzzi while she prepared drinks for us. What she actually prepared, was a trap where she plied me with some 80-proof amiability and coerced me into another act of cunnilingus.
I responded to each occasion reluctantly but willingly and was shortly the "guest of honor" at many team functions. The truth is that I'm not a lesbian but I don't discriminate. Women have wonderfully soft, tender bodies and are so affectionate to be with. Unfortunately, gossip spread that I "batted for the other team," so guys weren't lining up to ask me out. It didn't help that for the first two years of school, I was into Gothic Chic, with the dark clothing and heavy black makeup. I even shaved half of my hair off and scared-away any boys that looked in my direction.
On the night of the prom, the girls persuaded or dared, a male classmate to ask me to dance, with the promise, (or assumption,) that if he poured a little liquor down my throat, he might get laid. It worked. He even told me that he was surprised at how pretty and sexy I was, since he thought I didn't like guys. I should have been insulted and hurt, but I wanted so much to lose my virginity and to try to figure-out why, when being told to perform some sexual act, I was practically helpless to refuse.
The last guy, the guy who drove me to my brother's place, learned it just by talking to me. He came to understand that with the right combination of soft-talk and command, accentuated with vodka, that he too, could get into my pants.
I wasn't actually raped. I wasn't really drunk. I didn't fight-off any of the advancements. I felt my body get aroused and I enjoyed the feeling. I wanted to try new and different things with men, women or in groups. I especially get horny when I am "ordered" to do something that I wished to try anyway. I am definitely a submissive in search of anyone who can make me obey. The physical force, the alcohol or the perversion of the act in public or private, just makes it seem that much hotter. I like it rough. I like being controlled. And I like the compliments and the adoration of bringing my partner off, before myself.
I was now fully awake and recalling events from the previous eighteen hours. My mind doesn't work in a straight line, so where there was soft talk and boring silences, become a blur because my brain was only seeing the crude, lewd and perverted sex acts that thrilled me beyond belief. The first image involved me flat on my back with my feet in the air and my taffeta gown ripped right down the front. My pussy was being stretched and pounded by the first cock that I had ever actually seen. It was Adam's and he knew how to use it. He licked my sensitive clit until I was begging him to stick it inside me. He plunged in so deep that many times, he drove my head against the side of the van.
I can still "feel" the moment that my hymen was torn and yet I wanted him to fuck me more than anything in the world. Here, in the safety and quiet of my brother's bed, I can recall distinctly, the way that my naked body reacted when he shoved his cock into the very depths of my pussy and squeezed my wobbly tits as my back and ass were scraped raw on the dirty rug.
The pages of my mind flipped forward to the even darker and more cramped front seat of a fancy limousine. Chuck's strong hands were tugging my flimsy tee shirt over my head, exposing my tits to his lascivious stare. Then he forced my head into his crotch and made me fish his firm erection from his pants and take him into my mouth. He held the back of my neck and pushed and pulled my head until I gagged and nearly suffocated. Finally, my mouth was jammed so full of cock, it was either swallow cum or die.
I had been stripped and raped twice. I was called every vile and demeaning name. My clothes were torn off and my body roughly bruised and battered. With the memory of each foul and degrading sensation, the heat in my pussy rose to a fevered pitch. I had just woken from a pleasant and much needed, refreshing twelve-hour nap, and my quivering body was dimpled with goosebumps while the familiar spasms began to roil my pelvis. My fingers crept under the waistband of my borrowed gym shorts. The heat between my thighs was intense and the dampness already gave-off a hormonal potency. I was at the point where I stopped wondering "why" I get so excited to be used and abused and began to look for people who could help to bring-out that wondrous feeling.
