March 2015
GOOD EVENING. Thank you all for coming. I know you all are busy, and I want you know how much I appreciate you taking to the time to come by here tonight. I pray you will not find it to be a waste of your ti—
I’m sorry. I am not trying to postpone anything.
No, you’re right. I am trying to stall.
Because I am frightened. You’d think I wouldn’t be by now, but I still am. It’s…a challenge to do this, and I don’t know that I will ever get used to it.
Of course.
Can I get anyone anything before we begin?
I would be delighted to. Anyone else?
Please forgive the delay. This will only take a minute. A hostess’s work is never done.
My pleasure. Anybody else? If anyone decides they need anything—food, drink, whatever—I would be overjoyed to stop the proceedings to take care of them.
No, I suppose that is not a very good joke, is it. My apologies. I’m not trying to be sarcastic. Forgiveness.
Alright then.
No, I am out of excuses.
Of course. Thank you, honey. Let me see you to the door. Love you. Later.
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I HAVE asked you all to come here this evening due to direct orders. Every one of you was specifically chosen to come and see what happens here tonight. I pray this will be sufficient, and that my performance will be satisfactory.
I beg your pardon? No. I’m being punished.
Actually, I don’t know what all is going to happen, except that it will be awful.
No, no, for me. This is all supposed to be anything but awful for all of you. It will, I’m afraid, become a rather noisy affair, and I can very well imagine that I may become somewhat unladylike during the proceedings. I hope you will be able to tolerate the…hmmm…removal of my composure in all this. I do implore you all to stay until the bitter end, although I have been instructed to tell you that if what happens here tonight proves more difficult than you can bear—you all being gentlemen and all—to please feel free to leave in whatever huff you feel I deserve, knowing that I will then be under conscription to come to you individually to repeat as much as can be done privately, allowing for whatever variation or improvement on the business at hand you can come up with. Please feel free to make any suggestions you feel are prudent for this evening, and I will do my best to accommodate you here, tonight.
I understand. No, there actually aren’t any rules or restrictions when it comes to what happens to me here tonight, short of permanent disfigurement or death. If I can leave here still alive and basically intact, it’s anything goes. The only thing I ask is that you please take whatever frustrations toward any interference you may perceive toward your desires out on me, and not on one another. Please try to keep the peace between each other, as the whole reason behind all this is to punish me, and not to start any wars or breed any ill will amongst any of you.
I suppose you can look at this as a kind of a party, and it would be nice if you did not destroy my home.
Oh, wait, I guess there is one rule. I am to obey. You. All of you. You say it, I do it. That’s the rule. Ironclad, set in stone. And that I am to be punished for disobedience, however you may interpret that word. Those words. Simple, right?
I believe that is up to you.
Absolutely. It is entirely expected that you will make suggestions that are contradictory to each other to put me into a bad position, to have to choose one set of orders over another, knowing full well that any failure on my part to fulfill any and every one of your interests here shall be met most harshly.
Hmm? Oh, I think we are going to leave it at "I sinned."
Actually, no. I am under fairly strict orders to elaborate no further on that, with the idea being that it can serve as a starting point. You can try to make me answer whatever you wish to know about me or my situation, and throw down whatever action you deem necessary to get me to cave in to your demands. I’m not that strong of a person; I can confirm you that I probably will. Yield, that is.
Because this all scares the shit out of me. But please, don’t let that sway you or deter you from what needs to happen here.
Does anyone want to begin? Go ahead. Tell me to do something. Make a suggestion, a demand, anything.
No?
I don’t mean to be rude here, but will no one take up the cause? Perhaps I can offer something that may put you all at ease. How about I take off my clothes?
Well, for starters, it’s embarrassing. I had the very same impositions toward shyness put onto me that all of you have had, and so, yes, if all things were equal, I would prefer to stay dressed. Save some shred of dignity for myself. But then you couldn’t see my body and judge it as being lacking in some way, as is deemed so relentlessly necessary by our fucking society.
Oh, I assure you, it is. I may have too many moles or blemishes to be appealing, or I may slouch just the wrong way that clothing succeeds in covering up, or my breasts or my waist or my hips are too big or too small to induce your own senses of lust that is surely my fault, according to the messages we are all beset with every day.
Well, for example, I suppose you could complain that the curtains don’t match the drapes, and I guarantee you, they don’t, even though I was commanded to make that assessment difficult at best. No curtains, or drapes, or whatever it is that refers to what is between my legs.
Because it makes me feel more naked. More exposed. More vulnerable. It strips away a hard-won maturity, and it…reduces me. It’s amazing how much pride and ego is centered on that region, in both men and women.
My bad. Carpet.
What, wasn’t that clear? Yes. Sex—in any way, shape or form—is definitely on the table tonight. Trust me, you’re all gonna get some.
You should probably tell me to move my hands, don’t you think? To put them down to my sides, and not try to cover myself up in any way? So you all can see.
Yes. Of course. Thank you. I obey.
The answer to the next question is yes. You can touch. Don’t be shy.
Please don’t put me in the position of having to make suggestions throughout the evening. I need to be able to report that I didn’t try to influence things, that I didn’t try to make it easier on myself by taking advantage of your timidities.
Yes, of course I’ll spread my legs. I am yours to command. Would you like me to put my hands behind my head?
Sorry. That was the very sort of thing I was talking about, with me nudging things down one path or another. Because I can vouch that I have experience in these matters; I know myself well enough to tell you that I will try to manipulate the situation to my advantage. Which is part of the point here: to take that away from me. To strip me of power, as it were. Make me more…docile.
Yes. I have done this before. And yes. I hated it; apparently, though, not enough to suit. Punishment, you know. I’m a bit of a bad girl.
I must confess, I’m not all that fond of being touched. It’s invasive. But don’t let my quiverings present any barrier to your interests, assuming you have them. Which, in its own horrible way, is worse if you don’t. Suggests I am not good enough for you, and that I need to change whatever I have to to make myself more to your liking, and that I am somehow to convince you of my sincerity on that. Rejection is exceedingly hard on my sense of self-worth, if that little tidbit is of any use to any of you. There is honestly no end to how bad this all can go tonight. The whole design of it is that it is to be a challenge. For me.
Oh, I should say that if any of you have ever seen anything in any pornography anywhere, that you can rest assured that I will go out of my way to re-enact it to the best of my ability, no matter how raunchy it was, no matter how outlandish it was. And I am to remind you that, as this is punishment—for me—you should see to it that your pleasures are catered to, and mine are not, and that if you ever wanted to hurt and humiliate a woman and get away with it, this is your opportunity.
Yes. Of course. I obey.
No, I can attest to you, it is enormously humiliating to make a deliberate effort of displaying my asshole to you individually. Can you see? Do I need to arch my back more? Perhaps I should get down on my hands and knees, putting my face to the floor, and reach around behind me and spread myself apart. No, you can each look as long as you want. Do you…do you want to touch me there? Get me to flinch? You have full permission to handle me any way you want. No, you don’t need to be gentle. Yes, I did clean myself out in preparation of this. I would like to think none of you have any real interest in seeing me shit, but if you do, I will eat something and take some laxatives so you can watch me do exactly that. It will just take some time, which we have an excessive amount of.
Yes, I am ashamed to admit that I do enjoy getting fucked in the ass. It is dirty and shameful and exceptionally intense, and whatever it is in my psychology that makes me like that sees to it that I have a violent orgasm from it, much more so than usual if it really hurts, and at the same time it leaves me feeling like I had done the very most wrong thing I could, letting a man fuck me like I was a man, and I hate that it hurts.
Yes, of course. I obey. I am more than happy to turn around and lie down on my back and roll my hips up so there is no question as to what I am doing as I slide my own finger into my asshole and fuck myself there before you all. Do you want to see me suck on my finger, after it has been in there? No tricks; I’ll probably grimace. I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to stop that. Ugh. Again? Alright. Ugh. Still ugh.
Yes, I blush like this when I do this very thing to myself when I am alone, when I play with myself.
Just this morning.
Not quite every day, but pretty close.
Of course I will. But, need I remind you, this is punishment, and my own orgasm should not be catered to. I mean, if it were up to me, I’d be thrilled to lay here and masturbate all night long for you all. That would be much easier than what I am quite convinced will happen instead. But that kind of misses the objective here, and if I were to make a good report on all this—the kind that will get this punishment I’m undergoing to end—if anything, you should force me to cum when I don’t want to.
By doing something to me or making me do something I don’t like, and making me cum anyway. There is nothing much more degrading than that. Don’t you know—for example—that if a woman has an orgasm while she’s getting raped, that she will question everything about herself for the rest of her life? It’s horrifying.
Uh, yeah. I do know.
Oh, where do I begin? I despise urine, and as I’ve said, I can’t stand pain, and I can tell you that being made to suck the cock of a man I don’t particularly like is quite awful.
No, I’m sorry to say that you were all especially chosen to be here tonight for that precise reason above all others. Not one of you is someone I would want to be caught dead being seen with, let alone to have to cater to the childish needs you all have between your legs that you constantly end up having to take care of by yourself, all to some pathetic vision of some poor whore who has to suck your disgusting little cocks like a slut, making all the little murmuring sounds and gasps men so like to hear women make so very much that you’ll tolerate bored bitches faking that and everything else that goes along with the act that you think about way more often than you participate in—because you are all fucking losers—until you splootch your little spurt of jism that you, no doubt, will expect the naïve little dream-cunt to lick up with relish and swallow and look like she fucking likes it, cooing about how much she loves swallowing your stink like a brainless little porn star, despite the reality that you have to clean it up yourself so you don’t get caught. I wonder how many of you lick your own aching jerk-off hands that end up hurting from how hard and how fucking often you rub your feeble little wieners to get a good solid taste of your own sperm into your mouths like fucking fags. Maybe it’s something you all should learn to help each other with. No offense.
I don’t think so.
Well, clearly, you are going to have to make me.
What, you can’t figure it out, you stupid assholes? You’re definitely going to have to hurt me. Hard. And of all the ways I could possibly hate any which way you could come up with to do that, the absolute worst is if you whip me.
Because, over and above how much it fucking hurts, it is demeaning beyond the telling of it to be treated like a dumb stock animal, like something less than human, like a fucking fuck-slave.
Nonsense. Every one of you carries one with you all the time. It’s around each and every last one of your pudgy fat-ass waists.
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NO PLEASE stop I’ll do it I’ll do it it hurts so fucking much I’m sorry oh dear god in heaven I’m so fucking sorry I swear I’ll suck your cocks all god damn night long no please fine I’ll do it tomorrow too I’ll do it every day from now on you call me I’ll come and I’ll suck your cock no matter where you are no matter what you’re doing each and every last fucking one of you and I will love your semen your load I will be your own personal cum slut yes yes yes yes I’ll drink your piss too I’ll be your fucking toilet I will kneel right down and take off my clothes and open my mouth and I’ll swallow I swear I’ll swallow I’ll guzzle it down in front of whoever you want to show off to like it was something good like I fucking like it and I’ll smile like a fucking piss whore and I’ll convince you that it’s special to me and that I want to do it all the god damn time what no don’t make me do that don’t make me masturbate while I’m swallowing piss I won’t be able to do it I won’t be able to cum I can’t I’m sorry I just can’t I’m trying god fuck that hurts shit you motherfuckers all of you I hate you I hate you no wait no please I’m sorry I’m sorry I didn’t mean that I love you I love every last one of you and I’ll be your pain toy your fuck toy your toilet toy you can fuck me in the ass and I’ll be your asswhore wherever whenever yes yes yes please stop hitting me please let me suck your cocks please let me swallow your blessed cum your piss I’ll lick your assholes I want to I want to please let me cum for you let me cum for you so you can laugh at what a filthy cunt I am please please please I’m begging you oh dear fucking god have mercy please kill me it hurts so god damn fucking much please let me suck cock please let me suck cock I want to that’s all I want to do please please please please please…
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YES, THANK you for coming. Thank you. Good night. The truth? No, I did not have a good time. Of course; if you want me to say I had a good time, then I had a great time. The best of times. Ow. I’m sorry; I deserved that. Oh, no, thank you. Sure. Good night. Master. Master. Sir. Please don’t worry about the lamp; it’s just stuff, Master. Lord. Sir. I don’t know if it was sufficient or not. I pray it was, but I’m sure I’ll be calling you if it wasn’t. Thank you. Good night, Master. Of course I meant it. Any time, any place. You have my number, right? Thank you. Yes, good night, Master. My Lord. My King.
No, no, you don’t have to go. Yes, if you wish. I would be honored if you painted me white. Right here, right now. Make whatever mess you want on me. Are you up for it?
Ow. Sorry. It still all hurts a lot. Allow me.
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WELL? DO you like the marks? I thought they were fairly outstanding this time.
Thank you, honey. Love you, too. Ow. Sorry. Can I suck your cock for a while? You know I’d love to.
I see.
So was this enough? No? Imagine my surprise.
Now who do you want me to call?
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