Chapter 1 :

The summer I turned twelve years old, things started to alter. I was always `` more developed '' than other young lady my age, and had a sense of maturity not often seen in pre-pubescents. I only began to notice how older Male looked at me when my uncle drooled over his beer as I exited the consortium with my brother. His leer caught me off guard, made me uneasy and grim to my stomach. Life continued, day to day, but I felt him getting nearer and nearer as time wore on. He partied at the sign every weekend with my dad, he began to quell over nights, and then demanded I bring him a towel into the shower. These small instances began to pile up doubt in my idea. Eventually the tension between us culminated when my parents left us with him for the weekend. When night came, and the house was hushed, he made a beeline to my way, I could hear his wino shuffle outside my door and I knew what was coming. The first rapine was the most sore, I cried the rest of the night and into the sunrise. He took me over and over again in that first hr. His palm pressed hard against my mouth. His belt buckle left weal that did n't fade for days and the bruise on my inner thighs kept me from my horse back riding. The next weeks until school began were my defective. I told no one and suffered through the encounters with silence. He raped me anywhere he could, taking all he wanted and leaving nada behind, none of my soul, no whole part of my body unswayed. I think this is the point in time in my life where I became hardened against the world and it 's expectations. The nighttime relationship with my uncle continued until I was sixteen, when I began to fight back. I would agitate, the whipping would get worse. But when I fought back, I became charge. My pussycat started to drip then hour I slid away from him and made him get out me back to him. I kicked him and made my own back arch from the excitement. When he slapped my face in punishment and called me a little slut, my teat hardened. I bit his finger extremely hard and he punched my depressed back as he continued to thrust into my unwilling vagina. The moment his clenched fist impacted with my back I came with triumph. My starting time climax was idle and filled with abandon of a tortured soul released.He twisted my head around and with tone of utter disgust, hurled me onto my bed and left the room. I lay there, spilling my heart onto the bed with my body shaking and desperately wanting to lead off again, to feel the pain in the ass and that pleasure simultaneously. I believe my uncle noticed the change in me, and when he realized he was in fact pleasing me instead of hurting me, he stopped. For him, the erotic intuitive feeling stemmed from taking and not giving. My nature had been corrupted and by railing against him, I found my own pleasure. Many will view as this narrative pale beyond the most deform angle, but I am determined that I am not insane, just `` dirty '' or `` tainted '' by the world 's criterion. It was a relief when his rapine ended, but he left a black cross on me that will never fade. I have an insatiate desire for men ten to twenty years my elderly, and fighting against the man fucking me roughly and harshly is the best altitude I can reach. I want nothing more, at this leg in my life than to be degraded as used as my dominant allele partner pleases. The outside of me is very dominant. I am a sophomore in college, an pureness scholar, a published poet. I am five base eleven in tall and a redoubtable chassis to men my age. The intimate me is a submissive kitten that has to be taught repeatedly what she can and can not do. I thrive on pleasing my dominant and hold out on the sexual system of rewards and penalty. At sixteen, I was just beginning to comprehend my intimate abilities. When I first liberated myself from my abusive uncle, I thought I was actually sexually dominant. It would be over five years later that I learned I was, in fact, a submissive. Up until that moment I had convinced myself I let those men do as they pleased. A darling supporter taught me that I needed those men to do as they pleased, in order of magnitude for myself to reach stark gratification, paradise, and true sexual pleasure. I began as a rape case, a victim, a girl. Though I consider myself still developing in my intimate endeavors, I have learned much, and I hope to share all my intimate exploit, in wet, sweaty, dirty, mealy contingent. I want to broadcast the cognition that you are not alone in your submissive ( to the extreme life style ). You are, in fact, most likely in a absolute majority. All powerful cleaning woman want to be taken, dismantled, examined, and used for ultimate pleasance, they just are n't willing to take it. I loved not being in rush, being utterly lain to waste and I adored listening to the men as they finished with me and told me no fair sex had let them do what I had let them do. I have fulfilled fantasies, I have dreamed dreams and then lived those dreaming. If you are in the bus that I am going to hell in, perhaps you will stay tuned to get word of how my endeavors so began and how I came to be writing this story, at the asking of my most recent and well-nigh satisfying dominant .