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I need to write. No wants or desires in it. For me, it’s truly a need. There’s no particular rhythm to my musings, except for the natural rhythm of life events that spark my creativity. Over the last year, my life, perspectives, limits, and understanding has twisted, warped, and evolved to the point that some days I hardly recognize myself. This has drawn me to express myself by once again using my medium of choice – writing.

Names and some events will be changed to try to preserve my anonymity. While I’m aware that somewhere along the line it’s likely that one or more of the persons involved may recognize my writing style or a description or circumstance, for now I prefer to remain unknown. It’s a rather complex conundrum, really. On the one hand I have a fierce need to protect my privacy. Much like a caged beast, if someone starts poking around in the parts of my mind that I have have decided belong exclusively to me, I will strike out and fight to the death to keep them out. On the other hand, I also possess an intense desire to communicate and to express my feelings to those with whom I’m close. At times, I actually want someone to drag the thoughts that are obsessively occupying my mind out of me. So I suppose on some levels I hope I will be recognized in time. But, for now, the beast lies in wait…

This is a quite extraordinary ordinary tale. There are no villains and no knights in shining armor. There are just human beings with every inherent human quality. This is also not the kind of story that will get to “the good parts” quickly. Like life, “the good parts” are interspersed with all the rest. Perhaps you will recognize yourself or someone you know here. Chances are good you will relate in some way because we’re really not all that different once you strip away our outer shells.

If you have an opinion about my writing, please let me know. I welcome any comments; compliments, criticism, or otherwise!

* * * * *

The summer was just around the corner, and there had already been days I’d had to turn on the fans. As a full time mom, my days were filled with diapers and stories and songs, taking a break every so often to sign into this great new toy we’d acquired, a computer. My husband, Patrick, and I had just celebrated our 9th anniversary, and life was generally pleasant.

I was pregnant with our third child who was expected in early autumn. We were looking forward to the summer, the blessed slice of heaven we were carving out for ourselves and the birth. The only problem was that what appeared to be a slice of heaven on the surface, was actually more like swiss cheese underneath.

The mp3 poured from the speakers as I clicked on the url for Literotica… “He can ease my frustration with his soothing conversation…” and I sighed. Between work and the kids, it was unusual for us to have conversations that consisted of more than two word sentences. We were so in tune on one level, even finished each others sentences, but on the deeper levels, I was convinced Pat was incapable of meeting my needs. Not even understanding them myself made it that much more impossible. I started reading the stories, and I found myself wide-eyed and transfixed. I shared the site with Pat, who also was intrigued, but had less time to explore. I couldn’t believe how many fetishes existed! Things I wouldn’t have imagined in a million years were presented ümraniye escort in such a natural, accepted fashion, which piqued my curiosity and spurred me on to far more intricate and adventuresome fantasies.

Throughout the coming weeks, I continued to explore the net, always coming back to Literotica. Finally, I decided to take the plunge and put some of my favorite fantasies in writing. After completing my first story, I shared it with Pat and a close friend. Enjoying their overwhelmingly positive response, I hesitantly posted it here. I received some good feedback, and my rating never went below 4.0, but, being the perfectionist I am, that wasn’t good enough.

I continued reading and studying the best stories on the site. As I read works of each genre, I found myself drawn again and again to the BDSM category. These, often, dark tales of leather and kink and power exchange began to stir something inside of me.

I had been clearly taught from a young age what “nice” girls should and shouldn’t do, and this definitely fell under “shouldn’t”. But, like anything which is “forbidden”, this only served to whet my appetite. I wanted to know more about how to write with more widespread appeal, and I wanted to know more about Domination and submission.

I took advantage of a day when I was feeling rather bold, and decided to email another author whose writing I particularly admired. I told him I loved his stories and asked him to edit one of my own. To my surprise and delight, he replied. He offered to look at the piece I had just completed and offer any suggestions he could. I thoughtfully considered each idea he offered and worked on editing until I felt I had made as many changes as I could accept. I was thrilled with the attention my new story drew. My ratings and feedbacks improved dramatically over my first story, and I reveled in my accomplishment.

From that point on, the other writer…let’s call him… Ken, and I began spending hours and hours chatting online. Having grown up before the days when computers were as common as televisions, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. My nature has always tended toward being trusting and open with others until they prove themselves unworthy. Though it’s gotten me in some real jams, I treasure that part of myself, and I’ve come to realize that it’s worth the risks.

One day, our chat turned toward the subject of submission.

Ken: You’re a natural submissive, you know.

Giggling to myself, I replied,

Faith: Well, thank you, kind sir! LOL

Ken then directed me to a site that explained about the world of BDSM. For days, I immersed myself in this site. What had appeared to me to be fun and games…some kinky little skits to play out in the bedroom, I soon discovered to be a legitimate lifestyle. I found my own thoughts being reflected by what I was reading, and I couldn’t stop talking about it! I showed the site to Pat, and my good friend, Liz, and just wanted to learn more and more. Although Pat seemed interested, it was something he had never considered either, and didn’t find as stimulating a topic then. So my focus quickly became Ken and his wealth of knowledge and experience I craved.

We talked about everything. I thoroughly enjoyed chatting with Ken on a philosophical level, but I became timid and hesitant when he’d ask about my personal sexual pendik escort tastes or past experience. I couldn’t quite grasp what it was about this man that held me mesmerized and wide-eyed as he spoke. Slowly, I began to open my heart and tell him things I had never before told anyone. I don’t think he’s ever understood my ability to dissociate my sexual and intellectual selves, but he patiently listened as I gave detail after heart wrenching detail about my childhood and “coming of age”. He soon came to understand that my sexual history had been plagued by deceit and betrayal in the most visceral ways imaginable. As a small child, I had been used and brutalized, and this carried over a pattern into adulthood. Through every explanation and description, he never ran off. He would gift me with images of security, safety, and seemingly endless tenderness.

For quite some time, this was nothing but a grand adventure. However, as the summer wore on, I began to feel the need to hide my online activities from Pat. Ken began asking me about my masturbatory experiences, and I reluctantly told him of what they consisted.

Ken: Tell me what you do to make yourself cum.

Faith: Well, you don’t mince words, now do you?! LOL

Ken: No, I don’t. 😀

Faith: Well, ok…I lay down on my bed…

Ken: And then?

(Much time elapses between my responses as I struggle to find the words…)

Faith: Then I just start…touching myself…down there.

Ken: How do you touch yourself, baby?

Faith: I don’t know…I guess I move my fingers in small circles, putting more and more pressure over it.

Ken: it?

Faith: You know!

Ken: Yes, I do, but I want you to say it.

Faith: I can’t! It’s one thing to write about characters in a story, but this is about ME. LOL

Ken: Yes, you can, and you will. I’m waiting…

(Long pause…)

Faith: on my pussy. Ok? You happy now?

Ken: Yes. Thank you. And what do you do next?

Faith: This is really hard!

Ken: I know it is, and we can stop at any time, but I hope you’ll take this opportunity to learn from me.

Faith: Ok. I guess it can’t be too painful. LOL

Ken: That’s my girl! 😉 Now tell me.. what do you do next?

Faith: Ummm, well, I just rub myself faster and harder till I climax.

Ken: Do you put your fingers in your pussy?

Faith: No LOL. I don’t really do anything else. It’s always been just , *do it* and get it over with as fast as possible.

Ken: Oooooh, baby! You don’t even know what you’ve been missing out on!

Faith: What do you mean? LOL

Ken: Are you alone?

Faith: yes

Ken: What are you wearing?

Now, I had lost a smidgen of my naivete at this point, so I had some idea where this was going.

Faith: Nothing sexy, I’m afraid. LOL Just an old sun dress, yellow…with an ivy pattern in green.

Ken: But little do you know just how sexy that is!

Faith: And now I’m blushing LOL

Ken: And nothing under the sun dress?

Faith: Weellll, it was a really hot day…and….you know……

Ken: Mmmmmmm… what a lovely picture you must make!

Ken: Lift up your skirt for me, baby.

Faith:’s up

Ken: Now, I want you to pretend I’m right in front of you…

Ken: watching you

Ken: wanting you

Ken: bostancı escort Take your hand and start slowly running your fingers up and down the insides of your thighs, but do not touch your pussy.

Faith: mmmm….that feels nice!

Ken: good. Now, I want you to imagine you are doing this for me.

Ken: I’m in front of you, and more than anything, I want to see you pleasure yourself.

Ken: Reach your right hand up to your nipples and pinch them through your dress.

Ken: Run your fingertips all over your body, but don’t touch your pussy yet.

Ken: How does that feel?

Faith: It feels soooo good! Your words awaken every nerve in my body…I have goose bumps everywhere.

Ken: : )

Ken: Slide your hand down and spread your lips for me…

Ken: I want to see you…

Ken: Show me what you offer to me.

Faith: I am

Ken: Now, little one, take your other hand and slip one finger inside…

Ken: Bring your wetness up and run your finger in circles around your clit…

This went on for some time. I was aroused in a way I had never experienced alone, and I was loving every moment. His instructions made it easier for me to explore my body in ways I never before had explored. Something I had been taught was “dirty” and “wrong” became acceptable, and even something to strive for. My hands were his hands in my mind. Since I was doing this *for him*, there was no reason to feel shame.

He led me to a place where I could let go and allow myself to experience new heights of physical pleasure. As he instructed me, I stroked my sex and plunged my fingers into my heat, doing everything he asked of me. My heart was racing and I could only think of pleasing him as fully as possible across the Internet, while my body urged me to continue.

My need for release became exponentially greater with every encouraging word he typed, and every praise with which he gifted me. By the time he allowed me the pleasure of stimulating my clit, I was in a frenzy of passion and desire. It took almost no time at all to bring myself over the edge and feel waves of climax crash over me as my body stiffened and irrepressable cries escaped my throat.

Slowly, I began to come down, and typed to him the effect his words had had. In the afterglow, he was gentle and tender and kind and full of praise and encouragement. Instead of feeling the shame of masturbating, he made me feel clean and proud I had been able to overcome such a difficult hurdle for him. I was hooked!

It was during this safe, sweet, secure time, Ken began talking to me more about becoming His submissive. I would have done just about anything to earn his respect and approval, and I agreed to be His online, but was clear it could never extend into our “real lives”. He expressed agreement that this relationship must remain online. He, like myself, had children, and, regardless of the fact that his marriage was all but dead, he had to stay for the sake of his children.

However, agreements such as these can sometimes change. I took this commitment to Ken very seriously. I felt he was a very good man, in a miserable marriage, and I wanted to be a light in his darkness. He assured me he would always be honest with me, and I had no reason to believe otherwise. I gave him my submission, but had no idea what this really meant. In spite of my best intentions, I unknowingly put myself in the position of having my commitment to Ken, and my commitment to Pat in direct opposition. This didn’t become clear to me until the lines between my Internet communications and my real life became blurred.


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