An Observation

It's...erm, interesting when i was surfing through the blogs after this one, i was bombarded with a flurry of christian blogs. Click after click, it was blogs and blogs of profession to the Lord Jesus.

Wow. Talk about irony.


[deep-seated agnostic and not too serious at that; backyard philosopher]
J. Doe

Entry One: Forced Entry

This is Jane and i'm the resident writer of the pair.

I started this blog with the intention of following other blogs in the purpose of learning things from them. It's always a pleasant thing to come home to a kinky to-read list after a hard day's work.

I didn't know what to post as a first entry. But John, the creative that he is, forced me to write a first entry...with a vibrator between my legs and with explicit instructions to not come until he says so.

So i did.

Here's the Entry One: Forced Entry

I should be tied up. Somewhere outside, out there, bare and exposed for people to see…

I’d be tied up to a tree, hanging there, with arms and legs bound and apart, parted open for all the world to see the bareness of the wanton being that was me. An exhibitionistic slut. If only closeted.

The ropes would burn my skin, leave marks and make it bleed. It’d hurt so good, the rubbing of the ropes over bare flesh.

In utter silence, a stranger would chance upon me. An open show for everyone to look and touch and probe and to do whatever one heeds it to do.

And so the stranger would.

I’d struggle and fight but to no avail. The ropes that bound me would leave me incapacitated and helpless. And I’d be blindfolded, unaware of anything but the sounds of the things to come…and gagged, unable to utter any comprehensible words but mere sounds of whimpers and moans.

He’d touch me all over, exploit and violate…every part, every inch, every sacredness in me. And then he’d laugh at the helplessness I was in, the complete powerlessness of my state.

And then he’d hit me. He’d slap my face and laugh at me, teasing me while he’d do so…

I’d shiver. From the touch, from the pain, from the humiliation.

And then he’d beat me, with a rod… On bare flesh, he’d hit…again and again and again…until the flesh is raw and warm and red. It’d hurt so good. And I’d moan and I’d scream and I’d struggle but to no avail.

And yet, I’d be wanting more. Craving more.

And he’d laugh at my poor state. I’d be a slut, wanting for more pain, wanting for more pleasure.

So he’d give it to me. Roughly and forcefully he’d fuck me…pull my hair and whisper the words that would send me to the depths of a submissive’s oblivion:

“You are mine alone to use.”

And I’d have no choice but to say yes…

It isn't as polished an entry as i would have liked, but i guess it worked for John. He allowed me to come in the end (after a long drawl of stimulation and orgasm denial...oh it was tortuously wonderful). I begged for it with my little pitiful voice and he finally let me come. I slept like a baby after...

Happiness.

-J.Doe