Real Me

 

There is something inside me I never let anyone see.

Something that scares me. Something I don’t like. Something that turns me on desperately, and makes me weak and which I’m helpless to hide.

Not quite a monster, but something fairly bad.

It turns me on to be hurt. It turns me on to be held down, and forced, and called names, and made to do things.

Not really, of course. Not actually made to do things, for real and with no control. Not like that. But I want to pretend to be made to, and pretend in as real a way as possible. To be made just a little, pushed until I’m scared, made to so I only barely still feel safe. I want to chose not to have control, to give my control to you. I want to choose to do that, and then be scared out of my mind.

I like to be fucked so I’m scared, and that makes me ashamed, but you need to know this about me or none of this will make sense.

I like to be slapped so it leaves marks. I want my tits bitten rather than sucked. I want my hair pulled and arms twisted so I actually gasp and sob and shriek. I want to be held down, and made to stay held down. I want to be held down so roughly I have bruises on my arms for a week. I want to be fucked in the ass without being politely asked, so your finger or dildo goes into me as a surprise. I want to be fucked anywhere you want to fuck me, with no say in what you do. I want you do to do that, and spit on me, and call me names, and tell me what an awful person I am for letting you do this to me.

I want to be made to do things.

I want you to make me do things that scare me.

I want you to pinch my nipples. I want you to twist them, and hurt me, and pull on them until my eyes water. I want you to bite me there so its sore to wear a bra the next day, so I remember you as I do. I want to be bruised. I want you to spank me so I can’t sit down. I want you to use a cane or a whip. I want you to beat me, to actually beat me, until I’m bruised and weak and sobbing. I want to be hit until I cry, and called awful names, and told awful things, and pulled around by my hair. I want to be pulled around by my hair until I’m scared it will come out. I want you to share me with your friends. I want to be asked if something scares me, and then have it done anyway. I want to be pulled around on a collar and a lead, and made to crawl or beg. I want terrible things to be done to me, by you, because you want to.

Oh, and I want to be spat on, too.

That’s what I want.

I want you to do those very particular things to me, and nothing else unless you ask me first. And I want you to ask me before we start, not later, while we do. Because once we start, I want to pretend I have no choice.

I want to only do those particular things, but I want to pretend that anything might happen.

I want to be scared, I suppose, and I don’t know why.

I want to scared. I want to pretend to be scared, and to actually be hurt. I want to be flogged, and chased, and held down. I want to be fucked hard, far too hard, in my pussy or my ass. I want to be fisted, and I don’t want it to be about trust and love. I want to be fisted as an expression of your contempt for me, and your need to hurt me, and because you want me to cry as I come. I want you excited by my pain and discomfort and fear, and I want to know you are.

I want you to do everything to me that secretly turn you on, all the terrible dark things you’ve never told a soul.

I want beg you to stop, and you not to stop. I want you to not stop just once, so for ever afterwards I can’t ever be sure you will when I ask. I want you not to stop, and that to scare me. I want to be so scared I can’t think, and so turned on I can’t stop, and then I want you to stop and hold me and tell me everything is okay.

Does that even make any sense?

I want to be yours, and be used, and I think I want to be scared. I want to be tied up and hit and have my hair pulled as I’m fucked, and I want to do it without a safe-word, with someone who doesn’t know me.

Someone who doesn’t know me, so they won’t stop just because they like me. And because I never want someone who loves me to do this to me.

I never want someone who loves me to know I feel like this. I’d be ashamed if anyone knew. And although I want to be ashamed, I don’t want to be ashamed like that. Not of what you make me want. Not so anyone real knows. Not this awful secret.

I want to lie in bed beside someone I love and dream these dreams about you. This is what you are, my beloved monster, my dark lover, this is the terrible thing inside me. A part of me no-one can see, and which only you know.

Because sometimes I think about you as I try to sleep, and sometimes that horrify even myself.

 

And just to be confusing,  new ones like this are now here :)