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When my first dominatrix wife divorced me, I was devastated, and tried very hard to find a replacement.
I dated dozens of women, and discovered that my only hope lay in a much older woman, probably not great-looking.but hopefully VERY determined to take control of a younger male who would do almost anything for her. I found what I needed in the form of a prematurely retired psych nurse from the state asylum for the criminally insane, who finally admitted to me that she had resigned to avoid being fired, for vanishing a younger inmate deep into the bowels of the old, unused section of the asylum, where she could keep him strait-jacketed in a padded isolation cell, for what turned out to be years! She milked him twice a day, lengthily and mercilessly, concentrating on orgasm delay and denial, his screams unheard in the bowels of the old part of the building. I found this so exciting, I asked her to marry me on our first meeting, and told her she could indulge HER addiction freely, while enabling mine!
I have a trust fund, which she now controls, and she keeps me comfortably but inescapably in an ex-army bodybag, of olive-drab rubberized canvas, with two small zippered openings, at crotch and mouth, so she can have access to whatever end of me she wants. She is deliriously happy, and spends hours convincing me that I will never see the light of day again, but will spend the rest of my life pleasuring her, as she tortures me, even to the extent of cruelly rationing my air to mere survival level. I have learned exactly how she needs to be pleasured, and strive always to improve.
I think too much about the past. My mind often lingers and begins to think back to past events where I either felt humliated or caused someone else pain, either emotionally or physically. While I know consciously that I cannot change the past, deep down I feel incredible guilt and shame for instances that I now have absolutely no control over, and feel helpless in that I cannot move on.
Do you know the feeling like you are forgetting something? Like there is something in the back of your mind, just on the tip of your tongue, but you cannot remember why you feel the way you do?
I am very very anxious when it comes to touch and I react strange to some noises and such. I think there is something in my past that changed me. And I think my mind made me forget on purpose to shield me from the negative images and memories.
Can anyone relate?
#feeling #forgotten #memory #mind #confession
im female and i look really hot; i really get compliments all the time. i work as one of the only woman in the technology section. i like my career choice very much and each day i can bedazzle my male colleagues although im working in this company for 5 years now. its the same everywhere else
with my look i always win hearts and minds
thats just great!!
i find anyway to hurt my body in my power it’s not mine anyways that’s why it must suffer the way it makes me feel every day.
M 25 yr old virgin finally got the courage to go see an escort was scared out of my mind that it was gonna be a cop couldnt get hard no matter how much i tried ended up chilling smoking sum...
I play mental mind games with people. Never for bad. Always for good. Sometimes I do it to be funny. Mess with people. Good natured.
Other times I do it to try to help people or advance society. Social justice if you will.
I do it on so many levels.
I feel bad about it sometimes. You have to play the role of a villain at times to point out to others it’s wrong.
For example. No one can beat me in a fight. Oh I’m sure a few could fight me to a standstill. I popped out made for fighting.
I saw some guys hurting a disabled kid. I fought them over & over. Got paddled. No one in the school cared. Including the principal. It got to be entertainment.
Boys hitting and hurting the kid in different classes. Other boys cheering and throwing a punch for fun. The poor little guy shrieking in terror and pain. Some of the girls cheering. A few hitting him. You know. Nasty girls.
Boys afraid not to cheer. Humans aren’t that different from animals sadly.
But I’ve always felt called to Stand for those who can’t. I have fought so many battles. At times I was the one swept into s flood of attackers.
But when the fight is broken up. I’m always still standing. You gotta kill me. For I fight for God. I fight to save his babies. I’m prepared to die for them. I won’t kill for them. But I’ll die for them. Your gonna have to be a special something to kill me. People have tried. Even getting stabbed in the back didn’t stop me. So you better be committed to it.
But dying to try to save someone isn’t the best option. You die. Then the bad people kill them too. So I play mind games. If that doesn’t work, I just kick your ass.
So I picked out the nice kids when the bullies weren’t around. I shamed them.
I warned the kids who aren’t tough. Even hurt a few. Stay out of it. This is tough guy shit. The principal and teachers won’t do their ducking job. So I’m fixing to open up a can of whop ass. Anyone standing when I do goes down hard.
Now it was just me and a few football players. Everyone else afraid to tattle on me. I smiled. As I said. I was made for this.
After I beat the dog mess out of various football players for several weeks they expelled me. The teams thugs wouldn’t stop. I kept winning. So the football coach had me expelled. After I was gone they beat that kid up until his parents pulled him from school and moved. I was put into a dangerous inner city school with new foster parents. That’s where I got stabbed when a gang attacked me. No one to even take me to a hospital.
Well duck it. No one loved me anyways. Might as well die trying to save other people nobody loved. Maybe God will hug me when I die.
The way I’m going. That might not be far away.
I’ve made choices that will probably kill me. My bodies been close to death for a while now. Can’t beat this disease for ever. But at least when I lived I served God by fighting to save his babies that can’t save themselves.
I was at a local bar and noticed this insanely hot man across the room. I knew he was probably 5 or so years older than me (F21). I had just broken up with my boyfriend of 5 months. When he caught me staring he approached me with a smirk on his face. The conversation was flowing and he placed his hand right next to my crotch and said we should take this somewhere more quiet. He brought me back to his place. Right as we got out of the car he kissed me. Hard. My pussy was throbbing for him. We entered the bedroom and he threw me on the bed. He tore my tight black dress off to then see my lacy black bra and thong. He moved down to neck and boobs. I ripped his suit jacket and shirt off. I then saw his hard, incredibly muscular stomach. My pussy was aching for him now, I have never felt so wet. I unzipped his pants. He had a big, hard dick. I sucked him off until he unhooked my bra and underwear. I took off his pants, then he grabbed my by my ass and placed me on top of him. Every bone in my body was aching for him. It felt so good to feel him inside me. He pulled out and cumed all over me. I sucked him off and deep throated him. We started again, I have never had a better orgasm in my life. We met up a few more times, each was better than the last. Then he started asking me to come almost every week. The sex was amazing, even better than amazing. It never turned into anything more than sex, just a no strings attached fling. Which I was fine with. We stopped seeing eachother for a little while, but I saw him for the first time in a couple of months and we did the same mind blowing sex that got my pussy begging for him every time. I have never felt that kind of pleasure before and I can't wait until he comes back into town. My pussy gets wet just thinking about him, I can't wait to give him the best sex of his and my life again.
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