BrokenPsyche

Lying on my stomach in the dark with a pillow over my head, he is on his knees between my legs, towering over me and buried to the hilt in my cunt. I disappear into the darkness and let my mind bleed into the void. I have no name. No face. No needs to satisfy. I am an object. I am a hole.

It cannot hear him. It tries so hard to stay quiet even as each violent thrust pushes it harder against the edge of an orgasm. It is close, so close to cumming that if it for a moment forgets it is a hole, it will crumble and cry and scream and it will cum. So it focuses on its purpose. It remembers it is here for his pleasure and only with the gift of his seed can it have permission to let go. He has an iPad on the pillow where it's head rests beneath. A picture looks back at him of a girl, an open mouth with wet puddles of sex clinging to her lips. He fucks it, his hole, as he looks at the picture allowing himself to disappear into the fantasy. Beneath him the hole twitches, clenches, hungrily sucks at his cock, an inanimate wanton object with only one purpose. As his orgasms grips him, the hole lets go and bucks against him, sobs and cries out.

Breathless and panting I curl up with him. Is it wrong, I ask. Does it make me a bad person? He smiles, kisses me and tells me, no...this is how we make love.

From this position, I cannot move. With my arms pinned I do the only thing I can do and that is to listen to him and finger my wet cunt. From this position he cannot see me and I cannot see him. My name disappears. My face disappears. My body, my identity, my needs and wants dissolve and I am simply a hole. Warm, wet, soft and compliant, I feel his cock swell and stretch my throat, fill it so completely as I remember only two things; breath when allowed and finger my cunt.  I can hear the headboard as he rocks against my face. I can hear the pleasure he is experiencing and tears roll down my face. The happiness I feel from serving him, being a source of such pleasure for him is overwhelming for me. When he cums I cannot breath. There is no room to do anything except swallow like a glutinous and greedy whore. I dare not spill a single drop. When he pulls out of my gaping mouth I am panting, rubbing my clit furiously, and I am still pinned in place. He wipes his wet dick over my face, tapping it against my cheek and tells me what a good little sex toy I am. My mind explodes and then my body. I buck wildly under him, thrashing as I climax. He strokes his cock over my face, against my cheek and laughs. I cum harder...harder....HARDER!  My tears, my saliva, his cum, his laughter, his pleasure, our pride...it all comes together in a brilliant crescendo. I lie still and messy and sated. He holds my hand and says he loves me and the world is perfect.

The truth of it is, I've waited a long time to use this quote. Or at least to feel that it properly applies. I've waited patiently and hoped. And now, I get to!

"In one way or another I've always suffered. I didn't know why exactly. But I do know that I'm not so scared of suffering now. I feel more than I've ever felt and I've found someone to feel with. To play with."

"The heart dies a slow death, shedding each hope like a leaf until one day there are none. No hopes. Nothing remains."

I tell myself so many days, that this is the one I die upon. That despite whatever they carve into my headstone, it is today that my soul truelly left my body.

If that is true, then as something dies, so something must be born. Dolores, Chiyo, Mathilda...you will always find us, if you know what to look for.

"You have to be an artist and a madman, a creature of infinite melancholoy"

It had been raining for hours and over her somber and haunting music, she could hear each drop of water crash against the window pane as though trying to reach in after her. The house was warm and dark, her room lit by several candles high up on her desk. Each rustle of the air caused the shadows to writhe, bound to the flame. She was alone tonight and thankful for it. Her weekend was just starting and she had gotten it off to a good start For the past 45 minutes, she had allowed herself a gluttonous soak in her parents Jacuzzi tub. Bubbles bumped against her cheek as she sunk into the water with a Cheshire smile of pure delight. The salts and oils she had added make her skin slick and soft to the touch. She pampered herself with a leisurely but efficient beauty regimen, feeling the stress of her weeks cleaned off. Her hair she had kept dry, pulled up into a sloppy and yet somehow still adorable pony tail. Strands of sable hair spilled along her neck, refusing to be restrained. To those, she merely gave a swat with her hand to keep them in place.

That was then. At present she stood before the window, her slender figure dry and wrapped in a white cotton robe. She'd let her hair tumble free and it framed her sweet face like a dark curtain. The music played…and she thought she was alone.

He'd been watching her for some time now. He knew her routine perfectly by now. He knew which path she took to school and that she stopped every day on her way home to spend 5 minutes feeding the local park's ducks the left over bread from the sandwiches her mother always packed and she never ate. He knew where they kept the spare house key and right now, he knew she was alone.

She hadn't heard him coming in the front door, because the bath water had been running. While she had hummed and washed and such, he had walked around her room and waited. He'd done this before, though never while she was in the house. He'd come into her room though. He had coveted her in this room, bent over her bed, imagining her asleep there as he rocked with pleasure and cried out his climax. He had made a promise that first day, as he blotted away the traces of his cum from her sheets. He had promised himself that he would have her, and nothing would stop him.

Now she stood, staring out the window so caught up in her assumed solitude that she hadn't a single thought to notice him coming up behind her. He moved with a speed that would have surprised any passer by from the street, a desperate mans inner reserves. His arm moved around her neck and pulled her back sharply, quickly closing her airway and putting her under his control. She only managed a strangled cry of alarm before being silenced by his vice like grip. Her next instinct was to thrash wildly for freedom, and she began clawing and twisting. But he had prepared himself and left little skin revealed for her to dig into. There was a moment, as the robe caused her to slip in his arms, that she could have gotten away. But being so close to her, he could smell her skin and his face was buried in her hair. He felt himself grow hard with insane desire. With rage fed by lust, he pulled her against him with recharged strength, his arm against her slender throat until she slumped in his arms.

He released her and like a broken doll she fell to the floor at his feet. She began coughing, dizzy and trying to get onto her knees. He reached down, grabbing a fist full of her hair and turning her face to his. Her face was red, cheeks soaked with tears and eyes showing the strain of the force he had put on her throat. She looked at him with such fear and resolution…he knew if he wanted, she would let him do anything…just as long as he didn’t hurt her. Just so long as he left. With one hand still holding her hair, he used the other to back hand her hard enough to send her sprawling back. He saw the blood on his hands and felt alive. Moving forward to where she now sobbed uncontrollably and cowered, he again grabbed her by the hair. She thrashed and screamed as he dragged her toward the bed and then lifted her onto it. He began tearing at her robe, hitting her if she resisted. The tears had made the blood on her face run and he thought to himself how beautiful she looked.

Flipping her onto her stomach, he used the belt to tie her hands securely behind her back by the wrists. He stood up, looking down at her naked body half draped on the bed on her stomach, wriggling to turn over and get away some how. Reaching down, he grabbed her waist and pulled her so she was bent over the bed with her ass up in the air like a bitch in heat. He grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, his free hand running a finger over her face, seeming to coat his fingers in the blood and tears shed from the assault.  

With his fingers wet, he slid one inside her warm cunt. As he expected, she bucked sharply and cried out. He could tell from the gentle pressure he was getting that her hymen was still intact. Just as he had suspected.  For a minute he just worked that finger in and out, reveling in the anticipation of what would soon be his.

He leaned up, pressing his damp finger into the girls mouth as she sobbed.

"Do you taste that Christine? Your tears…your blood…your cunt? I want you to remember what it tastes like"

He tightened his grip in her hair and she seemed instinctively to know what he wanted. Slowly, hesitantly, she began sucking on his thick finger. She could taste it all. The salt from her tears. The coppery tang of her blood. And that other taste. That sweet pussy underneath it all. Her eyes fell shut for just a moment, but it was enough. He saw it and gave a heavy laugh.

"Yes…you like it don't you? The taste of humiliation. I'm going to do more than fuck you, Christine. I'm going to claim you. Do you know what that means?"

She couldn't say anything, she was just crying. His fingers where inside her again, moving in long slow strokes that had her subconsciously parting her legs further.

"It's means no matter who else fucks you, you will always belong to me. And I promise you, I will never let you forget that."

He worked his fingers over her swollen pussy lips until she was ready for him. His thick cock throbbed as he positioned himself and slid just the head inside. She tried to wriggle away, but he simply grabbed her by the hair and forced her back into place. She was so tight that he allowed himself to linger with steady strokes to warm her up, but his eyes where already rolled back into his head and he was hungry to fully possess her. With a grunt and a deep thrust, he plunged inside of her. She cried out and whimpered beneath him. He simply stayed inside her, feeling her cunt spasm around him, trying to accept the enormous invasion. He rolled his hips and moved slow inside her, knowing it would cause her extreme pain and immense pleasure. She was crying, surrendered at last. He began to fuck her in earnest then, plowing into her with violent stabs. He clawed at her hips, yanked her head back as he rode her towards his climax. She hadn't cum. He didn't care. This was his. She was his. His to fuck and use like the whore she was. She had seduced him, the fucking slut. Wearing those short skirts, smiling at him when they happened to pass. He had seen it in her eyes. She had asked for this. He began to fuck her harder and harder, his rage taking over.

For her, the nightmare was never ending. If she succumbed, her hit her. If she fought, he hit her. There was no easy way. There was only his way. She knew that now. As he tore her in two, nearly lifting her off the bed at some points while practically smothering her in it the next. He couldn't seem to fuck her hard enough. His hands where leaving ugly giant bruises all over her, she could feel it from his strong grip. Her mouth tasted like blood, and her vision was blurred by the tears that wouldn't stop falling. Through the watery haze, she saw her teddy bear pushed aside on the bed, watching as the man raped her. She closed her eyes, humiliated. He grabbed her hips, pulling her back, slamming into her as with a deep grunt, he came deep inside her. She tried to keep quiet. Maybe he was done…and he would just leave her now.

He came violently, flooding her pussy with thick white cum that he milked into her teen cunt. When he pulled out of her, he watched his cum dribbled out of her and down her thighs. She stayed perfectly still, open wide for him to look at. Her hole was raw and red and messy and looked fucking beautiful. He scooped up some of the cum that was running out and brought it up to her lips. She tried to turn away, but only received another hard smack. When his fingers came again, she opened her mouth obediently and began to suck them clean.

"From now on, you live for my cum. Do you understand?"

She nodded carefully

"Yes sir…"

"Good girl…now don't move or I'm going to have to show you what happens to bad girls who don't listen."

He stood up and walked over to a duffle bag he had brought with him. She heard the sound of the leash before she saw it. A chain leash with a leather grip at one end. In his other hand, he held a strap of leather which she assumed correctly to be a collar.

Sitting on the edge of the bed once more, he ordered her to her knees infront of him. The collar went around her neck, fixed in place with a small lock. He attached the leash, and then smiled as he played with a little name tag affixed to the collar.

"See? It even says your name Christine"

Standing up, he towered over her. He knew his cum must still be running out of her and that thrilled him to no end. She was alone for the entire weekend, and he planned to have her broken in by then.  He stroked his cock gently as he looked down at her, scared, bloody, bruised, face wet and swollen.

"I own you Christine"

A thick stream of piss splashed onto her and she pulled away. He was prepared, and gave a sharp yank on the leash, pulling her back under the spray. He watched the shame and humiliation consume her as he soaked her, spraying her hair, her face and then down between her legs.

Christine looked down at the floor…and understood her place

JOURNAL TIME!!!

Uhg! I get so furious when Doms write after obviously ignoring 90% of the things I wrote in my profile. I said I was not considering Doms from out of my own state...yet still they write. I said no couples, but still the invitations come. And I hate sounded rude or like a bitch but...for crying out loud...I wouldn't have written it if I just meant for you to ignore it!!

You guys who wrote with sympathys about my hair hatred, thanks so much! You are all so sweet. Again, I just think i sounded like a vain ranting grump...but apparently a few of you where amused. And to update you, my hair is behaving today. Though to be fair, it is tossed into a braid. Oh I would give anything to date someone who could french braid my hair. I love wearing french braided pigtails, but cannot do them for the life of me. And there is something very charming and intimate about having a partner brush my hair and braid it. Guess it's the little girl in me.

Im watching 50 First Dates and Adam Sandler is singing "Forgetful Lucy". Such a silly song but I find it so unbelievably romantic and sweet. And Ula just freaking cracks me up.

I think for a wind down tonight though, I'm going to put on Interview with a Vampire. Such hotness.....

With a nudge from a new friend I've decided to start reading the Sleeping Beauty series that Anne Rice put out. I started it a while ago and then put it down because I moved and things where all busy and hectic. Then I got a book I'd been wanting to read for YEARS...so that took priority. And now that it is finished...time to read something new! And this series is fiendishly delicious. Oh such kinky delights.

I've also decided to start up a new livejournal account. I do so every now and then and they tend to document different staged of my life. And, I feel like I'm starting a new phase and thus I need a new proper journal. And you're all in luck. Because i plan to start posting photos, from innocent to very naughty. So if you have an LJ account, feel free to let me know you are from this site and I will add you (as it will be a friends only account). You can find it here (under heavy construction for the next week or so)>> http://thebrokenpsyche.livejournal.com/

Lets see...what does today entail. Starting therapy again. I've found this be something I need, and yet cannot properly find. All therapists and psychologists I've had in the past have proven useless. Though, I must atribute at least part of that to myself. It's hard to let someone in. Let alone someone you have to pay just to listen to you.


I may also begin giving tarot readings again. Our local pagan store is doing so poorly, and I can't bare the thought of just sitting by while she goes under. So, I think I am going to work a few hours in the shop and offer up readings. I haven't done them for anyone outside of friends and family for so long. But, it will hopefully give me some spiritual grounding, which I find myself needing. Monday the job hunt continues. This time I am going through a job placement center instead of just handing out my resume. So, wish me luck. Steady money would be nice again. I've got a little nest egg built from my last job...but, its not constant. I need consistant.

I suppose, since I have this journal, I may as well use it. However, there really isn't much to say. It has been a while since I've felt the guilt driven craving for leather across my back..drawing forth bruising and blood. To some of you, this will sound disgusting. An obvious cry for attention from a girl rotting with problems and issues. To others, it will sound like Pavlov's bell signaling feeding time.

Regardless, sometimes the need is there, though it has been a while. I can feel so much of myself shutting down, closing shop and preparing for an internal winter. My last lover left such a ridicious mess in his wake, that its a wonder I survived at all.

I'm not even really sure if there is any trust left to give away to fool or saint.  I like to think there is, but find when it comes time to deliver, my hands are empty and I must slink off before I am unmasked as the festering and hollowed shell I have become.

Is it so hard to find love? I say the word with such ease now, and that frightens me. When the word rolls off the tongue so quickly, is it possible that it is because it has lost all meaning and value? That which makes it sacred is gone.

So now, all I have left is the occassional need for punishment (which even still wanes into apathy). I'm not even really sure if I could take on another lover. I haven't tried since Joe proved to be a royal fuck up choice on my part (long story short...seriously failed involvement in a poly relationship. ideal in theory, crap in implementing). So, presented with a lover, whether out of love or simple lust...would I even be able to accept? Or would I run.

I suppose I will only know when the moment arrives.

I fear this time I may be too broken to repair at all. To even fake it.

The very concept of love and hope just seems to me to be so...pointless.

Then again....maybe none of this is right or true. Maybe Mr. Right and I will stumble across eachother and all will mend itself in its own particular way.

Still, I can't help but wince at any possible relationship. Is it really fair to give myself to anyone? I'm such a stupid mess. A box of uncounted puzzle pieces. How can I expect anyone to be interested in that? I should write up a warning label and just stick it on my forehead.


***WARNING***

Product is damaged and may be missing pieces. Accept at your own request. Returns and exchanges will be aceepted, but product will likely be tossed in bin if deemed unacceptable.

Oh yeah....that's going to find me someone alright...

I might as well just start collecting cats and get a butt groove going in a rocking chair on the porch. Somebody poke me when its time to die!