I’ve never had enough. Never been satisfied with my partners or what they could give to me. I’ve always wanted more, wanted to be used.
I saw the ad in Missed Connections and I was drawn to it immediately. Almost like I could sense what it meant and what it offered me. Almost like I knew what was behind that door.
An exclusive event. A woman giving herself freely.
I volunteered for this. To be bound and bared. To be left alone in this room blindfolded and let them have me. Let them take me freely and without hesitation.
I can feel them now, gathering in my room and staring at me. Touching and feeling me. Pressing into me. Taking me fully.
Oh god I can feel it.
Excerpt
The door opened to let her out and I heard the burble of noise that signified a party for just a moment before the door shut again. In her absence, the lights turned off and I was plunged into a darkness that was complete and enveloping.
There is so much that can be said about that darkness and my time in it. How it seemed to envelop me, to consume me and press into me fully. How it seemed to become a part of me, and how in it every single movement and touch on my body was accentuated and highlighted.
I was not alone in that darkness.
I had my chains and I had my bindings and I had my imaginings. I had my burbling excitement as I realized that my dreams were about to become a reality.
And I had my fear. My nearly all-consuming dread that maybe, just maybe, I’d gotten myself in over my head. That maybe I had made the wrong choice, that this was not what I really wanted. That I had fooled myself into believing this.
The darkness and my isolation seemed to last an eternity. Hours and days alone in that space when it could have been minutes for all I knew.
I wasn’t uncomfortable though. My body was contorted and bound but it felt warmly comfortable instead.
And I wasn’t alone either. For the first time in so very long a time, I didn’t feel lonely, and that more than anything made me think that I was making the right choice.
Then the door opened finally, the light spilling into the space along with the shapes of bodies. There was the clinking of glasses and the rustle of fabric. No words but I could hear their breath and could sense their presence and I knew they were there for me.
Someone stepped forward and I felt them touch me. I felt their hands on my body for the first time, tracing a line on my side and up and over my shoulder. I sensed them in front of me and felt their grip as they pulled me up. I gasped for them and sensed their approval.
I approved too because more than anything they were not touching me like a delicate flower. Their caresses were tinted with intention. With a firmness that showed they didn’t care whether they broke me. That they wanted to use me.
Another hand was on my ass, gripping and kneading my skin and then spanking me once hard. I moaned for them and then gasped as they roughly thrust that hand between my legs. They felt me, prodding at my folds and slipping a digit into me. Pushing back against them I buried that finger deep inside of me, mewling with need the whole time.
“This one is fucking wet and ready,” a gruff voice grunted.
I nearly cried out as I felt the finger slip out of me, but I had only a moment before it was replaced by so much more.
He pushed into me, spreading me apart and making me cry out. My lips spread into a wide O as a passionate cry of need tumbled past my lips. He didn’t take his time, with a single forceful thrust he buried himself in me and I felt the grip of his hands on my body, holding me tight until it bordered on painful.
I got fucked.