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I, J, received this email on Sunday morning, with a request to publish this at a time and date I deem fit. The following content may offend readers, but I had to do this or risk hurting the girl as described by the sender in the email.
Hi J,
I would like you to let me know;
1. The possibility of this entry going onto your blog.
2. The date and time of the publication.
3. If you can keep me updated of any personal comments you received about this entry.Whatever choice you made to the requests above, will affect the girl’s treatment in the following hours/ days. Right after this sentence, will be what I will want your readers to read, in its entirety. Though I asked for you to ‘let me know’, you will notice that the email address I used cannot be replied to. You know what I mean.
Dear readers of Phantacee.com, what you are about to read is an entry from a 16 year old girl’s journal. She can be known as Ting here. Whatever relationship you guys can make out from here, is purely your own assumption. The details in it is what was required of her to record, in her own words.
#37 – 2014-09-20
Things weren’t the same anymore once I passed my 16th birthday. It was tough to pretend that everything was fine when I had to bade goodbye to my friends, or be really busy with meaningful things when I say I am busy. On normal days, I am allowed to go out with them and do what girls do, shop, eat and play. But on the occasional weekdays, Fridays and Saturdays, I had a different routine that was planned by him a long time ago.
Getting into his car after school, he reached for my legs and brushed his hand under my skirt, attempting to turn me on which I knew doesn’t work. At least not in that location. A blue floral dress was placed in my lap and he turned the car camera in my direction. In full light of afternoon sun in a HDB carpark, I quickly removed my blouse and slipped the dress over, before stripping my bra and skirt off from under. As usual, he placed his hand onto my panties to feel for the loop connected to the wireless vibrator that was inside me almost all the time.
We went for lunch at a coffee shop, where he closely watched if I let my knees touched. That dress was one of my favourite to go with jeans, as it was really short. I could sense eyes on me as we consumed our food, vibrator buzzing unheard in the noisy environment. From all these days of constant wetness, it had become a biological reaction to get turned from the attention, somewhat boosting my confidence despite my quiet self my friends know me by.
After the meal, he drove us to a well-shaded area, where he unzipped and took his dick out. There was no need for him to say anything. It was routine to me. Any signs of me forgetting or not being initiative will risk me losing some freedom I had.
I bent over to his lap and took his dick in my mouth, still lingering of the anchovies soup of my fishball noodles earlier. Perhaps that was what made it bearable. The image of his dick was long embedded in my mind. I had handled it so many times, touching, tasting and pleasing it.
His dick barely fitted my lips and I couldn’t open wider even if I wanted. Yes I had a small mouth, and the airtight seal was perfect for him. I went on to move my head up and down without doing anything with my tongue, just dangling downwards along his shaft. To me, it was a ‘massage’ except that my whole body was at it. His groans were loud even with the stereo on, but hearing how much he was enjoying it made me feel at ease, somewhat keeping me wet as my body had desired.
Never had I thought about the duration when we were at it. He had spent about two sessions guiding me till I was executing it right. I had enough of being choked unwillingly whenever he taught. He tapped on my head after he had enough and I wiped my mouth clean. He had always wanted me to write something more emotional in my journal, but how could I? When everything happened so many times.
Having done only the blowjob part, it was just the beginning. We went home straight after and he took a shower while I got naked on his bed, waiting for whatever was about to come. It was the weekend I was accustomed to. For him to come out cleaned and tuck myself into his arms.
He came out of the shower and I patted his back dry, before he laid on the bed lazily. I cuddled up to him and his fingers went tomy pussy, waxed and maintained by him every Saturday morning. His dick was in my hand when he got in bed, stroking and feeling him grow bigger as he fondled my clit.
That was how I understood men, that they will never have enough of pleasure, no matter if sex was involved. The constant reminder that ‘each guy dreams to have their own sex slave’ did not sway my hopefulness though. I could judge for myself. But the thought of having a boyfriend while pleasing him, I’d better get out of this first.
When he nudged my head, I knew what to do. I laid by his groin and resumed sucking him, to the twitching I was more than familiar with. The vibrator was still inside, and he was tuning the speed to control my pace. I couldn’t get the ‘routine’ out of my head no matter how hard I tried to disassociate with my daily life.
His hand wrapped around my neck and pulled me away, lying me on the bed with my head facing the opposite direction of the headboard. My body sank under his weight as he climbed on top of me, and raised my legs for me to hold onto.
Between the sensitive flaps of pussy, he replaced the vibrator by sticking his dick slowly inside, and my nipples erected on their own. ‘You want the clamps?’, he asked. My head gave the smallest nod and he helped me to secure the clips over my nipples. It was painful at the start, but it would go away as he begin to move. If I was already in it, might as well try to forget the suffering (no doubt temporary) with pleasure.
My pussy stuck itself out as he began thrusting, and moans escaped my mouth. I didn’t have to chance to discover masturbation when all these started, and I hoped he had not led me too far to rediscover them again. Was it supposed to be fast, loud sounding and intense? Or like drinking tea? To be enjoyed slowly and within control?
He was all to himself when he did me, he disliked the word ‘fuck’. I could understand why. I was after all his … My mind would go blank and begged for more, hands would go rubbing my clit to intensify the pleasure and each orgasms would send me screaming.
I was a slut in my own eyes. Unable to NOT get wet even when he wasn’t around. Each time I visited the toilet, I needed to relieve the urge my body was hinting at me. Everytime a guy looks at me, I would imagine how big he was. I was turning into a slave guys are looking to own.
‘Come, turn around’, he commanded in a deep voice and I was on my fours. Ass high in the air, savouring the moment when he filled me up with warmth again. My arms and legs were toned from trying to control his powerful pounding, and I learnt that squeezing my vagina tight would make it feel better, for the both of us.
As he went on non-stop for the ‘usual’ last part of our sex, I was cumming one after next, continously. That was when I did not mind what I was going through at all, it was something few of my friends could experience. Something so painful yet sexual, mindblowing at the same time addictive.
He pulled out as my body got weaker and he jumped off the bed. Standing towards me in front of the bed, I sat upright and slid off the edge, taking his dick and letting him finish the job. Although I disliked how he treated me here, I knew it was the end of part one. Maybe there would be two, or three? That was the only thing I couldn’t grasp.
My face slammed in his groin as he jerked his hips at me, choking me with his dick reaching deep down my throat. This time, he climbed onto the bed with his knees by my ears and was in missionary. From all these while, I had learnt how to feel his movements to prepare myself too.
A loud groan bursted out and he lifted his waist enough for me to milk his cum into my mouth, spraying a few waves of his salty semen right into my mouth. Ever since we begin doing this, I had no idea what was ‘a lot’. It was always little no matter how I tried to imagine ‘a lot’. That was how often I had helped him.
Once I licked him clean, he went to wash up and I got into the same blue dress again. I waited for him in the living room and had a small dildo ready. When he was comfortably seated next to me, I started pumping the toy into me for exactly two orgasms, marking the end of the session.
Surprisingly, that was the only time we did it today. Something else was on his mind. He was so busy on his iPad, scrolling on a wordy website. Although I was asked to jerk him off after dinner while he was on his iPad, it was still better to rest before he asked – again.
As requested, he wanted me to write something here if someone were to read it. So here it goes.
At times, I wonder if it was all so bad that I had to go through all these. All of us have something that set us on whatever path we are on in life, and this part can never be undone. I know myself best and I kinda(?) have an idea of the relationship I want to be with in future.
If you ever become my boyfriend, can you not change the routine too much? I want to please you as I know ‘pleasure’ and ‘sex’ to be. This is my ‘normal’ or ‘usual’, whichever way you put it. All I will ask for is to be brought out for dinner dates (with lots of awesome food) and movies.
Save me in a way I want to be saved.
Goodnight bearie.
Here is where her entry ends, and here is where you end as well J. Goodnight to you.
Guys, I have no idea what to do except to post this entry for her. Anything that follows this entry.. I’m just afraid it will do more harm than good. So I will leave things as it is for now.
Part 1 | Part 2