Posted by monkeyshines on Mon 5 Oct 09, 7:15 PM to monkeyshines's blog.
Do you ever get off on being made to be dirty, totally aware of your state, the smell, the feel, the idea everyone else knows literally your dirty little secret? And then having gone ahead with the request being humiliated that you did? Called a dirty little filth bag, because well you have been haven't you? You were dirty and less face it you enjoyed every filthy minute of it.
I had a smiley face on one knee, a question mark on the other for failing to use question marks properly when writing texts and in MSN conversations, I was told under no uncertain circumstances that I would use them properly or I would look like the Riddler! They were written in permanent marker and if I was asked about them I was told I had to be evasive, of course people asked, what's a woman my age doing drawing silly things on her knees! Mind- if you think that is strange you should see my cunt! Above my cunt also written in permanent marker was “stinking cunt“ and as I was not allowed to wash it this was an apt phrase, it actually did stink and itched like a bitch being unable to shave it too, the stubble made me want to rive it off. It smelled like salt and vinegar crisps to be honest mixed with piss, mmmmmmm lovely, every where I went I wanted to duck into a corner and get my hand down my knickers and give it a good scrat, if it had been left much longer then I'm sure I would have started to lose friends, if not by the incessant prodding and poking then eventually the smell alone would have got to them and sent them running for the air freshener.
In a phone call I was asked about my stinking cunt and he enquired if I had been masturbating or not, I said though I am aware of my cunt all day every day that I had not. He asked why not, as I usually masturbate all the time, I couldn't think what the reason could be except maybe I didn't like a filthy cunt and psychologically I didn't want to touch it. He listened to my reasoning and asked if I would like to wash it and have a nice clean pussy, “Oh yes please.” I chirped. He instructed me to go to the bathroom and fill the sink with water and then with a scrubbing brush and soap I was to scrub it clean. I started scrubbing the ink penned across the top, he told me to scrub harder, how I had a filthy, stinking cunt and he wanted it clean, I'd like it clean wouldn't I? Oh yes, yes, I exclaimed pressing harder. Then scrub it hard you filth bag, scrub the inside of your dirty stinking hole, I want you to scrub till you are raw, filthy cunt. You can't expect me to fuck a filthy cunt like yours can you? If you can't even bare to touch it why should I come anywhere near it? Filth bag! He listened to me scrubbing myself raw and moan as he spoke filth to me, I scrubbed every where, my clit, my hole my arsehole, soon beads of blood formed and still I scrubbed and moaned. I was really getting into it and also getting off on the pain I was inflicting on my poor twat. More soap whore, more water, filthy, filthy fucking stink hole, scrub it. Good girl, that's a good girl, stop moaning you are not meant to enjoy it, do you think it is clean now? Yes I say Good girl, fill the sink up with clean water and rinse that pussy off now, there's a good girl, good, now dry it when it's rinsed and go and sit somewhere comfortable.
I rinsed and dried my red raw pussy and trotted off to the couch with no knickers on. How does that feel now? Soooooo much better thank you. What does it smell like? I push two fingers into my now swollen hole. Like dove soap. Then you haven't rinsed properly and I should make you go and use freezing cold water to rinse properly, shouldn't I? he pauses as if thinking, I suppose you have been fairly good, are you horny now? Oh yes, yes, all that dirty talk has got me all of a dither. I exclaim. I don't know, you don't want to touch a filthy cunt but now it's clean you can't wait to get your fingers in, that will teach you to keep your cunt sparkling or next time you use a wire brush on it or sandpaper, now play. I settle back on my couch and with my one hand holding the receiver the other works busily at my swollen, sore and bloody cunt, the tenderness and pain makes it all the sweeter and soon I am breathing heavy and moaning, fingers working fifty to the dozen. When he hears my breathing change he tells me to stop, that I've taken too long and I've missed my chance. I feel like screaming down the phone, WTF! I haven't cum since the washing ban began and with all the talk I am gagging for it. But I don't instead I try to control my breathing and calm myself. STOP I said, you are still touching aren't you? No, well yes but I am not playing. I say petulantly. Stop means stop, not carry on touching, I don't say I am not wanking I am just rhythmically rubbing my foreskin do I? Stop means no touching at all, now do not touch, it is my turn. The comment makes me smile. He goes quite on his end of the phone, I go quiet too straining to hear and then I do, I hear the rhythmic noise of him wanking and I am dying to join him, listening to him wank turns me on like hell and I'm moaning softly squeezing my thighs together but careful not to stroke or touch. I hear him tossing away at his cock, eventually I hear his breathing changing and I know he is close to cumming and I cannot fucking believe that I am not going to get to have any relief tonight just a sore pussy to remind me of my state. He cums and when he regains composure he asks if I would like to, of course I say - HELL yes. Right then he says, you can either cum tonight and if you do you cannot go to sleep until 9am or you can leave it, have a good night sleep and wank after 11am, it is up to you, but I am off to bed now, night night muppet. He clicks off.
God damn, you bastard I think to myself still holding the phone shocked, still horny as hell but knowing fine well that sleep is the best option, if I wank I am like a man as soon as I orgasm I want to go to sleep. I feel the need to tell him of my outrage and mail him, he replies that I should fuck off and stop bothering him. I want to wank, I want to sleep, I lie on my couch pondering, wondering if I can stay awake, I play lazily, not to orgasm just to play, before you know it the lazy playing is at the point of no return and I give in and keep going until my cunt is pulsing away hungrily as if it is about to eat something I moan loudly, shudder and spasm away, jumping and jerking until my orgasm subsides. Great! Now I have until 9 am to entertain myself!
I set the internet up and start trawling, I learn a hundered different ways to tie my shoelaces, by 4 am I am on porn sites and by 5am I have achieved another orgasm, emailed him to grant me mercy and let me sleep and by 8am I fall off my chair having fallen a sleep, I am sat at the table dribbling, eyes rolling. I take my bleary arse off to bed.
Next day on hearing of my failure he tells me how he was still awake when I begged him to let me go to bed, he said how he had thought about letting me then changed his mind as I had thought about my cunt over a decent nights sleep and with that I had failed on both counts! Typical slut ruled by her cunt, what rules you Muppet? My CUNT rules me. Uh huh.
Edited Mon 5 Oct 09, 7:16 PM by monkeyshines
