2 comments/ 30340 views/ 10 favorites Fille de Joie By: kemander Fille de Joie (Fee dah Shwaw) Warning: This is not a work of fiction, although I have intensified some of the descriptions to enrich them. Nor is it a day-by-day reproduction of my Diary, but is the greater part of the main events from it, enhanced with many of my later thoughts and impressions. All names, but mine, of all characters, and all businesses, have been changed to protect the guilty parties, and no resemblance to actual persons or places is intended. The copyrighted names of all products belong to their respective copyright owners, and I thank them for their indulgence. Valliére Matinée de'Souillonné Hi. My name is Valliére. I am 27, and I am about 5' 4" tall, weigh about 120, with auburn hair, green eyes and my last bra size was a 36" C cup chest, with a 24" waist, and I'm 36" inches at my hips. My boyfriend, Glen, told me that I have to write this letter to you as part of my social conditioning and my ability to express my thoughts. You see, I grew up with very religious and strict parents, and I had only been with one guy before leaving home to go to college. My first 2 years in school made me feel like I had to devote all of my time to my studies just to keep up my grades, so I rarely attempted to socialize much. Finally, toward the end of my junior year, one of my girlfriends talked me into going to a party with her, because she said she was afraid to go alone. We went, and that is where I met this older gentleman, Glen, who was really young enough looking that I couldn't possibly have guessed his true age as being 33 years older than I. He was actually possessed of the mature outlook of his age at that time of 58. He was genuinely polite and charming as well, and it is him with whom I now live. And also live for, with all of my soul, heart, mind and body. Glen rapidly earned my undivided attention at that party, as well as my deepest respect, with his worldly knowledge and his familiarity with subjects that I knew so little about, and I completely enjoyed myself, wrapped up in talking with him about so many things that my knowledge seemed to only have grasped the skeletal basics of. The evening sped quickly past, and, when I discovered that my girlfriend had deserted me, and as it was late, Glen kindly offered to drive me home. I accepted, and as we were riding in his car, he was telling me about some books that he could lend me to increase my understanding of some of the things we had discussed. I asked if he lived nearby, and could we get those books before he dropped me off. He said, 'Of course.' and invited me in when we pulled up to his apartment building. My, what a scrumptious apartment, with nice furniture, and with the large living room's walls lined with artwork and bookshelves full of books and rare sculptures and carvings from many exotic countries. Being with this beautiful man in his beautiful apartment, with it's beautiful fireplace burning, with beautiful music playing softly in the background, surrounded with all his beautiful possessions filled me with feelings that I was previously unaware I had within me. I was completely unready for them. It was almost as if homesickness were tugging at my heart strings, making me realize that I had been missing out on the warmth and closeness of someone dearly beloved, and I felt almost overwhelmed by it. To make a long story short, after two glasses of delicious wine and some intimate conversation involving our respective personal histories, I spent the night, as well as the entire weekend with him. Repeatedly, and insatiably, making passionate and demanding love with him and to him. I had an unprecedented craving, for me anyway, for his scrupulous and exhaustive ability of fulfilling the physical needs in me, which I had never before even suspected existed in me. Neither of us got more than 6 hours of sleep all weekend. I was not in the least prepared for, nor had I any former experience with, the total ecstasy he introduced me to and with which he rewarded my body. His sexual knowledge and prowess borders on god-like if it actually is not. Glen has just read what I have written so far, and told me to cut to the chase, because no one wants to read all of my romantic platitudes, but would prefer that I get down and dirty, and give you the nasty details. One of the abilities I am supposed to be improving on with this letter to Literotica.com is talking dirty, with which I am simply unfamiliar, but I will try, and see if I can get better at it for him. I wish I had a thesaurus for dirty words. He is always telling me that if I like what is happening to my body, he wants to hear about it as vulgarly as I can express it. Loudly, repeatedly crudely, and forcefully, because that indicates to him how turned on I am. Which, in turn, causes him to try even harder to put even more effort into plunging me completely past my fear of total loss of self-control, into the realm of a sexually frenzied rapture of pure lust. The idea of which, frightens me even more than loss of control, although I do crave to experience it at some point. Glen tells me I cannot until I give all control over to him. Yet I can hardly understand how sex, excuse me fucking, can get any better than what we are already sharing. Before Glen's, the only cock I had ever touched was not even 6". Glen's is 10 plus, inches long, and a bit over 2 and a half inches thick, making it not quite six and a half inches in circumference. Yes, Ladies, I have been busy with my little seamstress' tape measure from my sewing basket, but good Lord, after being so thoroughly reamed out, and turned into an over-boiled veggie, I had to know all about the cause of it. It feels as if he is pushing a cannon through me. Coitus, excuse me again, fucking had always been a rare event for me, that I only infrequently rewarded my hometown boyfriend with on very special occasions, and which lasted for only some few seconds, never allowing him to ejaculate in me, pardon me, cum in me, poor Joe. Now, I cannot seem to get enough of Glen's huge cock, often 10 or more times a day. I want, no, not just want, I need, all of the cum that he can produce, In me, on me and running out of me, because now I feel that sex which doesn't result in me having all I can get of the man's cum, is sex that doesn't give me my full reward, and therefore doesn't fulfill my craving. Since Glen has released the sexual beast within me, I am now always very wet and juicy, even without the cum. The best lingering feeling of my lifetime to date is being so full of cum that it drools out of my cunt and ass, dripping off of my cunt lips and creating a slimy slick down the inside surfaces of my thighs. Enough, even, to ooze down to my knees when I stand or walk. Some of it even dripping in long, gooey strands of viscous ropes down to my ankles, or the ground, or pooling on the surface of wherever I am sitting. It often collects beneath my hairless, naked, inflamed and bloated cunt, where it makes a slippery puddle under the cheeks of my sexy, plump little ass on wherever I am sitting, as none of my skirts or dresses are long enough anymore to prevent my cunt from being in direct contact with those surfaces, and I never wear pants or panties any longer. I love having a bellyful of it sloshing around in my tummy when I move. Yum! I absolutely and completely revel in it, and I LOVE it, THRIVE on it, feeding my inner feminine fantasy of the carnal conquest of mankind with it! I had never had a cock in my mouth before, having been raised to be a naïve, small town girl, afraid of germs and dirty people, and anything to do with sex or the enjoyment of it, and so I had never even considered it. Glen talked about everything I was in fear of, with facts and logic that he pointed out to me from many different medical reference books, encyclopedias, and anatomy books, and got me through all of my silly home-taught delusions about many, many "taboo" societal opinions concerning sex. I am still learning, but this new knowledge has fairly completely put to rest almost all of the silly misinformation I had been fed with as a little girl growing up. He has taught me to not only suck his dick, (not using the "whore's cheat", as he calls it, of sucking just the head, while rubbing up and down on the shaft) but to take it completely into my throat. He held my nose, and by extending my tongue and inhaling deeply, simultaneously pushing my head forward until the head of his cock is completely past my "gag reflex" point, and is entrenched deeply in my gullet, so that my nose is buried in his pubic hair with him no longer needing to hold my nose, I can take his full length. And then I have to relinquish all control and relax, rather than fighting him, and let him do all of the work in what he calls "face fucking" or "skull fucking" me, while I concentrate on massaging the head and shaft of his cock with my reciprocally fucking throat and jaw muscles and my tongue. This ultimately gives all the control I need over him back to me completely, as his wild pleasures become the source of my pleasure, and I become the oral energy controlling both of us. Although it has taken me several months to perfect this new talent with any level of skill, I love every aspect of it. From the feel of the granite hardness that yet feels so pliable, so soft and satiny at the same time, to the tastes and smells that accompany the act, the throb and pulse of the blood pounding through the cock being amplified into my body by the tightness of my throat and esophageal and chest muscles, the silky friction of the thrust and pull of the tissues in my throat as the spongy head applies firm, yet gentle pressure on them traveling in and out, as well as the pride I feel in being able to accomplish a skill, which Glen says that more than 90% of all women cannot do at all, let alone with a tool the size of his. I love the trust that I have in him that makes me feel so comfortable in giving him complete control over me, which ultimately results in all of the intense pleasures being mutually prolonged between us. In turn, these mutually expanding levels of sexual gratification further intensify until our shared peak is reached, and we physically can no longer delay the inevitable division of our collective mental and emotional oneness in the mutual time and space that our combined efforts and caring have enshrouded our inner beings with, until together, with the outcome of this very intimate endeavor, in our reciprocal climaxes, our joint perceptions of our unity are slowly separated and drawn back into our individual and divided personal awareness's once more. I was obliviously ignorant of, until Glen's gentle tutoring revealed to me, the idea that cocksucking could easily give me an orgasm merely because of the intensity of the feelings, that intimate closeness resulting from being fully alert to each little change in your partner's internal and external positions, movements and immediate needs, and the effort that goes into positively responding to these, or any discomforts or detractions. The dirty names he calls me, and the nasty things he says to me and about me during the throes of our heated bouts, when I cannot VERBALLY respond to them, seem to sink more deeply into my consciousness than they would if my mouth weren't so full and delightfully busy at the moment. This, in turn, contributes to fulfilling some lust-starved insistency in me, and prodding an even greater increase of my efforts. This helps me to let go of any lingering inhibitions, and focus my efforts on becoming the dirty little slut he needs, wants and tells me to be, and that focus allows me to release my passions so much more completely, that I have cataclysmic orgasms as he explodes within my mouth. I think also, that the power I have over him in controlling when and how much he cums down my blow hole, as well as just being able to cause such an explosive climax in someone so much older, and so far more experienced than myself, who has cum countless times in his life, in countless exciting scenarios that I can't possibly reproduce, even if I had the encompassing imagination, knowledge, the capability and the means, is a large contributing factor to my cunt gushing so volatilely at the same time as his pistoning cock is bursting into my meat crammed throat. Glen began his conquest of me with gentle little kisses, concentrating on an area of my body with an ever increasing fervency, until I was gasping and moaning with a need I couldn't identify, yet couldn't deny, bringing out in me a writhing, twisting, restless urgency that he built upon and expanded with his relentless attentions then spreading out over my entire body, but practically ignoring my engorged nipples and my ravening cunt. He further compounded my cravings by adding in fluttering, lingering, tickling touches with his fingertips, not concentrated on any particular erogenous zone, but turning my whole body into one unending erogenous entity. He tantalized my sensitivities until the slightest touch anywhere on any part of my skin sent me into a swirling vortex of ever-magnifying need. Until I was wailing and practically screaming with my insatiable desire. Only then did he attack my actual erogenous areas, bringing me to the point of feeling that my entire being had become a rapaciously craving, slavering vagina, ready to swallow all of mankind, all of its cocks, and all of its cum. At this point he finally took me, burying his full length in me completely, but making such sweet, gentle love to me that I had to be the one to become forceful, reverting to animal savagery to satisfy my voraciously devouring lusts. That was the first time I ever raped anyone. That's what I meant about getting the control back by giving it up to him, if I'm making any sense. I know that I'm putting all of this down almost as disjointedly scattered as my brain thinks it, and it is, probably, very hard to follow, but please bear with me. I believe that I have a few pretty important notions to get across in black and white, for women starting out with the same crippling lack of information I started with, but I am finding it to be pretty difficult to express them clearly, and I hope that it doesn't all come out just sounding jumbled and stupid, instead of being able to help form the attitudes of some of the women out there who need to understand why their men seem either preoccupied with sex, or go the opposite route and become uninterested in their woman, giving their interest over to a job, or something, or someone even more detrimental to a conjugal relationship. Okay. While we're out walking together, whenever I think about having just gotten him off so intensely before we left the apartment, I love the dirty, slutty little hot to trot and sleazy, bad girl feeling that I get rerunning his peak reactions over in my mind, which makes me feel like gaily skipping down the sidewalk beside him, full of joy and pride and mischief, like a little brat. It's a feeling I cannot even begin to convey, but the yearning for more of the fuel that feeds it has become a driving force behind the effort I put into turning his fantasies into reality, and which is due to knowing that I am, what Glen calls, "a world class cocksucker with no known equal." As we are out and about, up inside of my head, I'm singing a little tune of, "I can get you aww-off, I can get you aww-off. Like you've never kno-own, Like you've never kno-own." to every guy we walk past, and feeling very smug and sparkly about my fuckably nasty little self, which really gets my juices flowing. I love it, and I get that same feeling, when he calls me his nasty little cocksucking whore-slut, or cum-slut, or jizz-pig, fuck toy or whatever, earning her load of spume, while I'm getting that humongous cock of his to spew deeply into my neck. He doesn't mean any harm by saying these things, they are only words he is using to rev up his engine and lubricate mine, but by saying this nasty stuff, he is actually comparing me to women who are professional experts at getting men off, and that makes me proud to think that he ranks my abilities that highly. I mean, come on they are Pros. So, it's a kind of backhanded praise, but it works because it makes me feel dirtier, and it makes me feel like trying harder to be the dirtiest he has ever had. It's all a matter of perspective. I just know I'm not getting this across to you all. All of this, in turn, makes him more and more dependant on me for the brain-food that supplies his fantasies, even though he acts mildly disapproving of my childishly playful antics. Sometimes he even spanks me, which makes me even more mischievous and naughty in order to earn more spankings, because my cunt heats up and gets all runny in direct proportion to how much he warms my ass, but I don't think he's figured that out yet, although he'll know it as soon as he reads this. As a matter of fact, I wonder what he is doing that he's not looking over my shoulder right now. Feeding his fantasies pushes them along to their fulfillment, and both of our subsequent excitements, pleasures and satisfactions. My becoming the consummation of his fantasies causes him to become reliant on me for their further culmination. As I concentrate on my efforts to take him to new levels, and as that reliance on me becomes more and more extensive, so does all of the evidence of his devotion to me. This allows me opportunity for even more command and control of him in daily life, working myself into every pore of his body, every nook and cranny of his psyche. This system goes on in successively increasing episodes. The more caring energy we each devote to the other, the more benefits we both receive. And man's primal care is sexually oriented. Every Man's! I know, you girls have all heard that the fastest way to a man's heart is through his stomach, but if you don't feed his fantasies first, he's only going to thank you for the meal and be on his way. No guy wants a gal that he can't fantasize about! So your primary effort needs to be becoming the starring female character in all of his mental movies. Especially the triple X rated ones! Do you see where the advantage in all of this is Ladies? I don't try hiding any of these selfish realizations of mine from him, because as Glen says, the level of the trust between us has built up to such a superior level, that we can neither one of us thrive without the love and nourishment of its increase and continuance, and that growth is what a relationship should be about. That cum which every man strokes his ego over, proudly thinking that it is his genetic signature, and is the symbol of his virility, is, Glen says, actually a miracle directly from God, which carries the genetic qualities that God assigns it, and which is His gift, hourly renewable, on LOAN to each man. Sperm is God's procreative essence, with which to form new humans in His image, all of us whom He has foreseen before earth's creation, let alone before each of ours'. This makes this gift of His extremely precious, which should make it an exceedingly desirable treasure that all women should eagerly try to attract and acquire, though most females act highly unreceptive to it, and like they do not want to be bothered. Who knows, maybe they don't want an important part of God to cherish within their bodies. That type of poorly conceived notion, contrived to make a big impression on others of just how righteous the woman is, indicates a lack of reasoning which seems selfishly senseless to me. We can't any of us be righteous, as we were all created to be imperfect sinners, none of whom can EARN their way into Heaven. What? Do you think it's dirty? This creative essence, as a Holy Gift, cannot be dirty! Is it too messy, or what? All of LIFE is too messy! What's a little more? I mean, it certainly tastes good, and it is a great source of the most easily digestible protein on earth, as well as being an inexpensive, and a very fun, skin softener, and if nothing else, it washes off easily. Well, I used to be that stupid about it too, but that was simply youthfully naïve ignorance. Glen also says that God made the process of expending his gift so enjoyable in order to prevent men from jealously hoarding it, Him already knowing just how greedy each man is. Fille de Joie I have jumped around so much as I've remembered things, or gone off on tangents, so now I'm going to jump back to the beginning. After that first weekend with him, I couldn't get enough of him, or his cock. We went out every night, well... after he had gone through my entire wardrobe and then replaced the whole thing with clothing of his choice. He compelled me to believe that I am gorgeous, with perfect hair, face, flat tummy, thighs, calves, ankles, breasts, excuse me, tits I mean, hips, cunt and with an ass to die for, or as he told me, an ass that makes him want to sink his teeth into it and pray for lockjaw. He says that I have done a world full of men a great disservice by hiding my desirably ripe and succulent body under frumpy clothes. We couldn't pass a mirror anywhere without him stopping me and making me look at myself from many different angles and distances while he pointed out, and drew my attention to details and attributes, that, although I had seen plenty of myself in mirrors in my lifetime, I had stopped noticing. Or, I had just rather glazed over as characteristics that I took for granted, or never really had noticed before, while I concentrated on minutiae which I considered to be flaws from my perspective. He continually pointed out the differences, in almost every aspect, of the details of assorted women that we'd notice, out and about, comparing them to my body, until I became fully aware of just how unusual it is for all of a person's proportions and overall body shape to look totally right. We, as a society, see all of the perfect people in high gloss, world market media, still shots, or the folks who are specifically chosen to appear on film. Our senses have thus become dulled to noticing the little physical anomalies of the living, breathing bodies, in motion all around us. That's as it should be, as our own minds are just as busy as all of those bodies in motion. But as Glen persisted with his Valliére praising comparisons, I couldn't help coming to believe that he was indeed correct, and my body was above the norm, and in a major portion of the comparisons, way above the norm. At any rate, I no longer own any bras or panties, panty hose or any underwear at all, no jeans, slacks, socks or flannel shirts, nor any of what he called my granny dresses and funky skirts; he burned them all. Now everything I have to wear is very soft and silky, and either fits like a second skin or is very filmy and clings to my every contour, as well as being very revealing. He wouldn't buy me any clothing that had linings in them, or if it were something he really liked, but it had a lining, he wouldn't close the deal until the store guaranteed that they would deliver the item altered to have no lining. Glen kept several tailors pretty busy for a few weeks, getting things to fit on me just the way he wanted. He got me extremely low-cut dresses and tops, with all of my skirts and dresses short enough to show my ass cheeks when I sit, many of them even when I stand or walk, and some that leave my pussy showing. Wait, no, I have been told, castigated even, in no uncertain terms, that little girls and frightened women have pussies, I have a minge, or a snatch, twat or cunt, and Glen says a very enticing looking one at that. It looks fat to me, but I guess I kind of think it's enticing too, now that it is hairless. Several of my skirts and dresses are so short that, with a really embarrassingly wide gap between my thighs, and the way my cunt lips bulge deeply down into that gap, they are exposed. And I'm talking about two highly noticeable mountains, (at least looking down at them from my eyes, they look like that) which are formed by my cunt lips having their beginning point quite high up on my puffy looking and forward jutting mons pubis. From which point, they extend down into very thick and spongy, very chubby and inflamed looking, drooping bags of fat, with thick, bright reddish-pink inner lips hanging down below the blushing pudgy ones. They look ugly to me, but Glen tells me to stop being self-deprecating, and be proud of how exotic and inviting they look. He says all the other women who have tidy looking, yes, but very plain and uninviting looking cunt lips, have formed a common majority. That makes their run-of-the-mill looking stuff the ugly cunts. Plus most of them don't shave, which, while it might cover their lack of appeal, it also adds to that lack, making them even less enticing looking. Besides, who wants a mouthful of pubic hairs, which are horrid when they get stuck in your throat? Also, He says, Fur is for men and monkeys. Well, I guess he's allowed to his opinion, and I do like the idea of mine being exotic looking. Exotic is a nice sounding word. Glen gave me the money to get some piercings done for his birthday, and now my nipples and cunt have even more attention drawn to them because my inner lips have finger-grip ring piercings. These don't go from the inside surface to the outside surface of the lip, but instead the piercing needle is run down into the bottom edge along the ridge of the inner lip, and then back out, maybe three eighths of an inch further along the edge. When the ring is inserted, it hangs in line with the length of the lip. There are four rings on the left lip, and four rings on the right lip, a bit more than half an inch apart. That meant having eight holes put along the length of the edge of each lip, with a short, but painful break after each pair of holes were made. During which, Bones, my tat and piercing artist, ran their inch diameter, eight-millimeter gold ring through them and fused it closed with a tiny little torch. I was already scared witless by the pain of him doing my nipples first, and hot and drenched in sweat from being in pain, afraid of more pain, and turned on like crazy by having some really big guy, whom I don't really know and who has tattoos all over him, playing around with my cunt. It was all I could do not to bawl like a big baby during the whole hour and a half process, and believe me; I did have a continual stream of tears running down my cheeks. I also had a continual stream of my own goo running out of my cunt, which probably made the piercing process harder to accomplish. I don't know how I can be in so much pain and be so turned on at the same time. Believe me also, that Bones, my tattoo and piercing artist, is one of the best in the business, and I thought he was even more cautious, gentle, respectful and understanding than I would ever have believed possible for a person in the pain giving business. After the eight ring placements, upon being told by Bones, that I was to have absolutely no vaginal or anal sex for the next nine weeks, I thought that this isn't really such a good idea for a birthday present. I would give you his actual name and shop location if I had his permission, maybe after my next visit. Sorry, dude, I didn't even give it a full five weeks, as I just couldn't go without fucking any more. Glen, however took it like a champ, taking his frustration out on me in other ways, although he pouted for a while when he found out he wasn't even allowed to lick or eat me while I slurped him off. Since then, my inner lips have been stretched downward much further than they used to be, due to Glen stretching me wide open to get his tongue more deeply into me, and are now hanging more than an inch below my ripe looking, pudgy outer lips. Plus, with my hems tending to climb up to my hips as I walk fast to keep up with Glen, often, I'm afraid all of my genitals are completely revealed to the view of whoever cares to notice and be looking at them. I smile sweetly and continue walking on. Sometimes, also, I notice that whichever hand Glen isn't holding has strayed down, and I have been unconsciously stroking a fingernail up and down my lips and bumping up my arousal level by bumping up against my stretched clit. I keep scolding myself for this, only to find myself doing it again a few minutes later. I'm surprised I haven't been arrested yet, but I seriously am not doing it consciously. I ham it up though, with my high heels clicking in rhythm to my ass swinging side to side and my hips swaying sexily, so as to lavish as much stimulating attention as possible on my body. After all, I want to keep Glen turned on as much as is feasible, as he does so enjoy showing off his sexy little "dirty girl" in public with this overtly suggestive over-exposure. I am finding out how much I thrive on this lewdly lascivious behavior as well. It is confidence building, and ego boosting to the extreme, and I am filthily addicted to it now and highly stimulated by it, with my juices leaking down my thighs for that shiny "Wet Look". I have an increasingly outrageous and shamelessly wanton desire to be naked and do the nasty right out in public with whomever steps up to the plate. We both get huge chuckles when we hear other women commenting that, 'He shouldn't let his daughter run around dressed like that!' 'Un-dressed, she means.' Glen usually comments to me. One of our favorite outfits for me consists of a "wife-beater" athletic shirt from the boys' section of the department store. These are very stretchy, but have so little to them that they hardly cover my torso, and they stretch so tightly over me that where they cover my tits, which invariably pop out of either the sides or the front, they are nearly sheer. This allows anyone to count the bumps on my areola, and the creases in my nipples. Not to mention seeing whether or not my nipple rings are hanging straight. These "wife-beaters" pull down to barely cover my lower ass cheeks. They are very thin material, almost perfectly see-through, and hide no detail of my body, and they are seriously sexy looking on me and very cheaply purchased. With a couple of stone washings to distress them, they are completely see through, and they develop neat little holes all over in the areas that get stretched the tightest, making quite a sexy spectacle of me. Some of these I have gotten out my sewing basket and altered to join the front shoulder straps behind my neck with a snap, and removed the material on the back to a scoop that shows the top one or two inches of the crack of my ass. Some of them I cut off, so they just cover my nipples, and the bottom curves of my tits can be seen, then I use the remainder of the tube of material as a mini skirt after hemming the tube where I want the waistline to be. If he has me wear one of them, then my only other clothing is my high heels. If I wear hose, they are stockings, either held up by a garter or with the elasticized band at the top of the thigh. I have many different colors of stockings, but the majority of the three hundred pairs he bought me are black, some of which only come up to eight inches above my knees, the ones with the "stay up" band at the top, but most of my stockings come up to within three or four inches of my cunt (NOTE TO UPDATE MY READERS: Since I had written this, Glen has gone shopping, and I now have gold chains to attach to my nymphae pull rings. A chain each clasps onto the two very front rings, one chain to the front ring on each side, then run all the way around the outside of their respective thigh, and then clasp again onto the very rearmost ring on the same side. Those two chains then each have a gold clip that hangs in the center on the outside of each thigh, which is at the right height, with some rather severe pulling on my poor cunt lips, to clip on at the top of the thigh band of a pair of stockings. Then a much shorter third chain clasps each of it's ends onto the center two rings on one lip, with another gold clip hanging down the inside of my thigh. By really stretching that lip down, it can clip onto the inner center of the top edge of the thigh band. Then ditto for the forth shorty gold chain and the center rings of the lip on the other side. This gives me a built in, non-slip pair of garters for my stockings, and it turns out to be an excellent idea, BUT, it was VERY uncomfortable at first, as every step I took felt like it was stretching my inner labia beyond the tearing point. Within two hours of our walking around the mall, however, it wasn't at all bad. Now I love the pull on my lips that each step I take causes. It builds my awareness of my cunt up to such a point that I will suddenly stop in my tracks and hang on to Glen, or a post, or anyone and anything at all while my body starts spasming and my cum streams down my thighs. So now, I wear stockings and heels all of the time. Often, even around at home, or when I am otherwise naked. Because, you see, I am now hooked on this new source of pleasure. With the constant stretching, though, my inner labia hang a little bit over two inches below my big fat cunt lips, and I am told that they will keep stretching with the continual pulling. Glen also got me a gold anklet chain with interchangeable pendants. One that says SLUT, one, which says WHORE, one that says CUM PIG, and one, which says BITCH, and then the last one says CUNT. I'm wearing the CUM PIG one right now. I think he is trying to keep me from having any more nasty sayings tattooed on my body. But I do want a tat on my mons in fairly large letters that says, "ALWAYS  FOR HUGE MEAT DELIVERIES", put just above the top of my cunt. With "always" being the top line, followed by the open sign just underneath it, then the two words "for huge" being the next line down. "Meat" would be the fourth line down, and "deliveries" just above the beginning of my slit, making the tat about three inches high. Glen got me yet another matching set of much, much heavier gold chains at the same time as my garter chains, one of which goes around my waist, and that has a two and a half inch long, perfect in every detail, sculpture in gold of his cock and balls. That chain is called a slave chain, or a belly chain. The other two chains of that matching set are harem chains. Each has heavy clasps per end, which clasp onto my nipple rings. One chain goes from the left ring, under my arm and around my back then under the right arm to clasp onto the right ring, and the shorter one swings from nipple ring to nipple ring between my tits. He got me, as well, two matching sculpted gold pendants of a man and a woman performing 69 on each other, and hung those on my nipple rings also. Then he hung on the center of the nine inch long chain in between my tits, another sculpted pendant of three men, doing a triple penetration on a woman in the middle of them. To top all of that off, he got a heavy gold band, an eighth of an inch thick and an inch wide that fits rather tightly around my neck, and fastens in place with a gold lock at the back of my neck. As he snapped the lock closed he said 'This is a permanent piece of jewelry!' This slave collar has a heavy gold ring that passes through a gold stud in the center of the front, to which he clipped on a gold chain dog leash, and then asked me if I felt like going out to the park to walk the dog to the Zoo and back. I pretended that I didn't know what he meant, and coyly replied, "But Honey, we don't have a dog." He laughed and then turned me over his knee and spanked me. Then sat me back up and clipped on the last two chains, which run from my nipple rings down and pass under my slave chain. They then continue down to clip onto the tip ring of my two newest clit rings, to which he also clipped on yet another, but smaller, pendant of his cock and balls. Christ I love getting my clit pierced, because it gave me two more HUMONGOUS orgasms! Poor Bones got completely soaked through, ha, ha. Paybacks for the pain he's put me through. He said that he has been sprayed by women before, as they were getting their clits pierced, but never hosed down like I did to him. I did end up having most of my clit hood removed, along with the tissue attaching it to my clit, resulting in another inch of growth to it from the continuing use of the vacuum pump. That growth has given me an overall length of just shy of two inches. After it looked as if the growth had stabilized, we got a piercing put in at the new base of the clit, which previously was buried up inside of the hood. In addition, then he wanted a piercing through the tip of my clit, as well. That is the ring where he attached the chains coming down from my nipple rings, so that my clit has no choice but to stick straight out, even with the weight of the cock pendant that he hung there also. He has this little cruel streak in him that shows up in some of the devious torments he puts me through, but putting me through those torments turns us both on so much, that, in general, I can't really bitch too much, except all of this gold I'm attached to is quite heavy. He says I'm worth my weight in gold, but I don't know how much more gold weight I can carry, and I told him that now I'm going to clank around like a knight in armor. That might have been the wrong thing to say, judging by the way he raised an eyebrow, his eyes lit up, and a strange grin flashed across his face. I guess that next I should be expecting him to come home with a suit of armor. Whether it will be for him or for me to wear, I can't begin to guess. He's heavy enough when he's on top of me naked, as it is. I can't imagine how it would feel having him weigh a couple hundred more pounds with armor on. Nor can I imagine me carrying around any more heavy metal. END NOTE) My shoes are all high heeled "come fuck me" pumps or high heeled boots, both calf high and thigh high, with a couple of pairs of high heel ankle height "witch boots", as Glen calls them. He stopped at a porn shop, or dirty toy store, or whatever you call them, and got this bracket thingie, which he straps, around my ankles. It has a bar in between the ankles that telescopes out to adjust in length. This he has set so that my ankles are always fourteen inches apart. Unless he's in a domineering mood and extends it all the way out with me strapped to the Saint Andrew's Cross in the Dungeon. Or he might have me lying down on the bed. Or, he just handcuffs me hanging from a beam up at the bedroom ceiling, with nipple and clit clamps on, and a HUGE black 14 inch vibrating dildo stuffed up my ass, while he fucks me anyway he wants to. I have to wear it almost all the time when we are up and about at home, until I achieve keeping my feet a foot and a couple inches apart, walking, standing or sitting, and it becomes second nature and natural to me. it's truly clumsy and inconvenient, but at least he no longer whips or quirts my ass cheeks when I don't keep my legs apart like he wants, because I no longer have the choice but to keep them spread open. He doesn't ever want me to put my knees together, because he is truly excited by that huge gap between my thighs where they join my torso. He always wants me to offer a clear view of that "sweet, soaking wet treasure between your legs", as he puts it, so my knees are always fourteen inches apart. I don't try to be modest about it any longer, because his level of arousal depends so much on displaying me. I simply do whatever pleases him, because I love him and I want him to be happy with me and excited by me, and besides, it now excites me to be exposed as much as it does him. Actually, I think I become more aroused by it than he does. Many of my tops and blouses are see through, or very nearly so. Glen is turned on with having others seeing the sexy woman he has and coveting my "perfect" tits and giant nipples. He also enjoys how anxiously horny I get when I have been turning guys on by displaying myself to them, and imagining them fantasizing about me and jacking off from seeing me. He got something that I think is called a Sybian or something like that. It resembles a saddle, bolted on a high-legged stand, inside something like real a low bathtub. The saddle has two dildoes sticking out of it. The dildoes can be changed out to various sizes, but he always sets me up with two huge ones he got for it, that will even squirt in me. He has me climb onto it, inserting the large dildoes in my cunt and ass. Once I am securely in place on it, he straps my ankles to the front legs, and my waist and thighs are then strapped to the base, which the legs support, as well as having chains coming from the front and back of the stand, which attach to the ring and lock of my slave collar. Fille de Joie Then he cuffs me to a chain which dangles from a hook in the ceiling beams directly over my head so that I can't move in any direction, or relieve the gravitational pull of my body's weight on the Sybian. He will then attach nipple clamps to my nipples, and hook the interconnecting chain between them to a cable that runs up to a four pound weight hanging from a pulley on another hook on the ceiling beam, twelve feet in front of me, pulling them very taut, so as to pull my tits up and out toward that pulley. He then hooks the clamp he tightens onto my clit to that same cable. Then he turns the Sybian on high, and as it is nothing more than a giant vibrating machine, which I am helpless to vary the pace of, or stop, I am sent into orgasmic tortures, as he leaves to go to a business meeting. He may be gone for upwards of six or eight hours. It has often happened that I am completely passed out and slumped on this torture rack like a rag doll, with my cum still pouring out of me. Often, I am unconscious by the time he returns home. I love getting climaxes from the Sybian, at least in small doses when I'm free to put smaller, more comfortable dildoes on it, and to control the speed. I also want to choose when my ride is over. I truly detest being strapped into it and left there, because it just does not stop sending me over the edge. When I am going crazy from climactic overload, dehydrated, feeling like my clit and my nipples are being torn off, and am more than ready, no, let me put that more strongly, desperate, for it to cease, just stop, totally, completely and be forever gone, then, by God, I AM DONE! I cry and beg him not to strap me to it, but my pleas are ignored when he gets in one of his moods. He says he likes knowing where I am and what I'm doing while he's gone. I know. First rule of bondage. Never leave your partner helpless while you're gone. Excellent rule, with very good reasoning behind it, but Glen is the way he is, and rules apply to everyone else, not to him. If he blindfolds me, I never actually know if he has left the apartment or is quietly sneaking around and watching my climactic agonies. All told, I guess I love being the subject of his fascination too much, and how he becomes so excited by whatever he puts me through, and I love arousing him too much to not let him have his way. Speaking of my nipples, within our first month together, Glen introduced me to a vacuum pump with three clear plastic tubes attached to it by little hoses, which he has had me use three times a day, every day. A tube goes on each of my nipples, with one for my clit. When I turn the pump on, I get the most pleasant pulling sensations on each of my three most erogenous zones. That often causes some great orgasms during my pumping sessions, which are only supposed to go on for twenty minutes, but which often extend to a half hour or longer, as a result. However, the up-shot is that my nipples have grown from a little over a half inch long, and not quite a half inch thick when fully distended, to almost an inch and a quarter long, and nearly an inch thick. They are now always fully distended and engorged, and all this within the first eight months of use. After that, everything seems to have settled into being its present size. As well, my clit has grown from a fairly large bump sticking out of the hood, to over an inch and three quarters in length. it's just like having my own little cock, which Glen loves to suck on until I have to drive him off of it. Except, he sometimes ties me to the bedposts, in which case I'm helpless to do anything but suffer my agony. I would fuck Glen in the ass with it, if it would only grow another inch or so; I love that mental image, but he will spank me for it after reading this, Tee Hee. Glen has told me that my clit would probably grow much longer if we get the clit hood split, or removed, or at least surgically detached from the base of the clit. My clit sticks out so far now, that the hood really isn't protecting anything, so I am thinking about having it circumcised. Then my clit might hang down enough that it would no longer rub the material of all of my skirts and dresses, instead of always sticking straight out. That almost drives me out of my mind with the constant stimulation as I walk. With the piercings for the gold rings that Glen paid to have installed in my nipples and clit for my birthday, I am continuously aroused. All of my "bumps" stand straight out at attention, making me think that I should be happy that Glen had me stop wearing bras and pants. I don't think I could tolerate the constant rubbing of my clit causing friction with the fabric. For his birthday I gave him eight gold ring piercings in my low slinging nymphae of my labia minora, I guess I should say inner cunt lips, 4 rings on each side, so that he can hold my cunt wide open with his fingers in the rings. (See Note Above) These eight lip rings have just enough weight to them to cause my inner lips, which hang well past my outer lips, to swing side to side as I walk, and we both laugh uproariously when we are walking somewhere quiet, and can hear the rings clink against each other. And, to tell details, all of my rings are solid 24 carat gold continuous wires that have no opening in them, They were melded together after their insertion so that they cannot be removed without cutting them off, and the rings in my nipples are an inch and five eighths in diameter and are an eighth of an inch thick. Poor Glen really has to work to keep up with my libido now, but that's okay, because he has since introduced a whole new group of elements to our sex life. However, you will learn about that as you read along. While we were in the Tat Parlor for my nipple and clit piercings, I ended up getting a chain and pendant tattooed on my left ankle. The chain is very intricately done, and is a lovely piece of artwork, with shading and shadowing so it looks almost like a real chain, and the pendant dangling down the front of my ankle from it says "lusty Slut" running downward on the front of my ankle toward my foot. Glen was reluctant for that to be printed permanently on me, telling me that he won't live forever, and that I may regret it after he is gone, but it was our compromise, as I wanted it to say Glen's Whore. He said I'd live to regret having that be permanent, but my imagination has been running wild with many other things I would like to have tattooed on me that he might disapprove of even more. I haven't really asked him about them as yet. Maybe soon. When we first got together, I had never even thought of shaving my pubic hair, as I never really thought I had that much. At Glen's request I tried it, and I liked the increased sensitivity so much that he has paid for electrolysis sessions for me so now I don't need to shave even my legs or armpits either, and I am as smooth and soft as a baby's butt and look and feel ever so sexy and wild, too. With all of these modifications to my body, I go into complete sensory overload before, during and after sex, and I am always hot, horny, and ready to fuck. I ended up saying to Glen, 'You have turned me into some kind of a nympho, addicted to fucking you.' He replied, 'No! I am turning you into a total slut! My own treasured, vibrant and personal whore. My whore, who will do anything I command, with whomever and whenever I tell you. You are exceeding all my expectations and desires up to this point. It only remains to be seen how far I can push the envelope before you cut and run.' These changes to my body and my mental understanding and enjoyment of my sexuality, combined with Glen continually encouraging me to relax and be comfortable with the beautiful body that God has given me, have given me a new outlook. Glen inspiring me to accept the role that God put women in men's lives for and to enjoy the mutually delightful effects that teasingly displaying myself to men causes them to exhibit, have turned me into a very confident, out-going and decadently horny little bitch. It is so fun to let them see a little more, well, maybe a lot more, than they are supposed to see, but yet not quite enough to fully satisfy their curiosity. I also love looking back and giggling as they are walking away trying to adjust their package and make it fit comfortably in their pants. Luring them all so enticingly is such extreme fun. I love having every man that sees me, wanting to fuck me. Glen took to pointing out many of the less obvious reactions of men who were either by themselves, with women of their own, or with a few other men, in the constantly changing situations that he flagrantly takes me into. With the continually ego-boosting comments streaming from Glen, I came to be very sensitive to male, as well as female, non-verbal responses and body language that seemed to be a direct result of my carnally sensuous appearance. With the recurring attention from so many total strangers, I quickly became hooked on doing all I can to encourage even more attention, without being too outright obvious about it. I border on, and often cross over into, breaking the law by being publicly indecent as it is. So now, I have also become Glen's slutty little cock tease, as he proudly calls me, while he has urged me to ramp my efforts up to a higher level and lure some of these strangers into dark corners, restrooms or storage closets, allowing them to arouse themselves even more, and me at the same time. The first time that I experimented with this idea of Glen's scared me almost mindless. This good looking dude I had been dancing with, took me into the Men's room, and got his cock, which was almost as big as Glen's, into me. He started pumping me for all he was worth before I could break his grasp on me and, pulling my top and skirt down into place, run back to Glen, who was calmly seated at our table in the club we were in. I breathlessly told Glen what the man did, expecting him to explode in anger, but he simply laughed, and said, 'You have to be willing to take the consequences of your actions, whether you mean them seriously or in play. Releasing your inner desires and getting full enjoyment of your sexuality with total strangers is exactly what I had hoped you would try to accomplish. I only suggest that you loosen up with all of your fears about being unfaithful to me, and let your nature lead you where it may.' 'Valliére, you can't be unfaithful to me if you are simply carrying out my wishes, this particular wish being that you fill your cunt, ass and throat with as much strange cum as you can collect within yourself. This will only grease the ways for my personal pleasure, and increase my lust immeasurably for you. The thought that you have enough sexual overdrive to pursue going out to have sex with other men for the fantasy, the fun or even for money, if it comes to that, then come running back to me, to ravish me until I am mindless jelly too, is a complete turn on for me. If you can view it in your mind as using our relationship as a happy and safe haven from which to leave and return to, you will have a secure base from which to launch your adventures and seek the fulfillment of fantasies and promiscuous fun. You will pay a compliment to me and to us as a couple, because every time you come back to me you will verify the strength of the bond of love and trust that you feel for me. That is, if you know, within your own being, that it is honestly with me that your heart wants to be. However, to keep things simple, try to avoid the men that come on to you too sincerely, as they will probably have a tendency to fall in love with you and become major irritations in your further quests. Do not be such a bashful Valliére, and go have fun. Maybe it isn't too late to allow that guy to finish what you started.' And so, I ended up fucking my third cock ever to completion, then twenty minutes later my fourth, and yet a little later my fifth and sixth at the same time, one of them in my cunt, while the other unloaded up my ass, in my first ever double penetration, not counting that big dildo. I cannot even begin to describe how overwhelmingly powerful my orgasm was while they were fucking me. It began building as soon as they found a rhythm between them, stroking in and out of my holes, their friction in me became more than I could withhold from, triggering my orgasm which immediately crested at peak and stayed at that level, continuing for some few minutes after they had both cum and shrank out of me. They had to hold me up between them until I could get my senses back and have my legs be somewhat steady beneath me, as we had been doing it standing up in a janitorial closet, and there was nowhere to sit. In addition, I made quite a large puddle on the floor that the two fellas were standing in, and I completely soaked the pants of the guy cramming my cunt. I never knew a woman could cum like that, and I definitely recommend it. Wow! A half hour later found me in a van out in the parking lot with a table of six men who had invited me to sit with them as I was headed back to Glen from the janitor's closet in the club. These six guys used all of my holes at the same time, and thoroughly sated my lust for the time being. The interesting thing that I discovered, though, is that a bunch of guys with normal size cocks do not do as much damage to me as my pet monster hanging between Glen's legs. Oh, those other guys were all great, and I had more than enough fun getting gang-fucked and creamed in while I was cumming my insides out, but what I am saying is this. Six guys using my holes for their cum buckets didn't wear me out friction-wise as much as fucking and sucking Glen's artillery six or eight times does. But, oh God, I felt so wonderfully slutty and dirty doing them all, that I was literally, continuously and spastically, trembling and quivering with body spasms, I could barely contain my excitement while trying to relate it all in a gush of disconnected sentences and thoughts to Glen. Hell, I could barely walk, let alone talk, and forget doing both at the same time, due to my excited sexual high being so powerful. He was trying to hustle me out of the club to rush me home so he could lick my sexy little body clean and fuck my brains out himself. Oh, Heavens on Earth, have I ever turned into a horny little cum slut! I am in awe of all of the feelings that spread throughout my body until I come down off the high, with my tits feeling hot and swollen, with my nipples pounding to the beat of my pulse, which in turn seems to have a direct electrical connection to my clit. My insides ache with a feeling of vast emptiness, as if some important organs were removed, and need to be put back in to fill up the empty spaces, and my cunt and asshole spasmodically clutch and release continually, while my clit is jerking up and down rapidly to the muscles beneath my mons contracting and releasing uncontrollably. As well as the constant flow of my wetness and man juice slowly slithering down my thighs, a feeling that I truly love. All of which may continue for several hours at a time after one of my sexcapades. I just can't describe what it feels like. I wonder if it's like being jolted by lots of electricity without actually getting hurt. Glen tells me that my brain is releasing some hormones, chemicals, or something into my body, but I can't remember the name he called them because I was still in the throes of my fleshly exuberance, and so still too shaken up when he told me. I couldn't get enough of his sweet meat, which is my pet name for him, after that, and we didn't get to sleep until just after noon, after having left the apartment at 6:30 in the evening the day before. When we got up, we showered, then went out to eat, and then hit another club where I bettered my previous night's performance by two guys, for a total of twelve men, plus my first ever girl on girl action. She was the girlfriend of one of the guys, and while he was pounding into me she just sat right down on my face. When he came, she bent forward, snuggled her tongue into my cummy cunt, and cleaned me out. I can only hope that I tasted as good to her as she did to me, while she squirmed her cunt on my mouth. Damn, what a great time I had. I came so many times from all of the penetrations, not to mention the girl sending me into outer space, that I was dehydrated. I had to drink several glasses of water before I could walk back out to Glen's car with him to go home and let him fuck me to death, also. Well, actually, he fucked me until I just passed out. I guess I had reached the overload point and my circuit breaker popped. At this point Glen told me that I must start keeping a daily journal on my lap top, and write down each experience and all of my resulting impressions. All the thoughts and fantasies that occurred to me as my days unfolded into my mental ruminations. That way, I could always keep track of where I had come from, and where I wanted to head. This journal became a time consuming project, but being that, as I had by then graduated and was living with Glen full time, and didn't have to work, the time my diary required wasn't a problem. With him wanting me available to him 24/7, and him telling me that earning an income wasn't necessary, with the income he was earning with his business investments and stock sales that he does on his computer in his home office, it was easy to do what he wanted. I just worked on it while he was busy in the den on his computer, and the only hard part was putting my thoughts into some kind of structure before beginning each entry, because once I started the words just flowed. Writing my dirty deeds and thoughts down caused my cunt to flow also, such that, many entries required a dash into the den to cream Glen's corncob while he finger fucked me before I could continue. Maybe that's why he had me start the diary to begin with? I wouldn't put it past the sneaky little devil, bless his heart. Overall, it really excites me to exceed in the challenges of bringing Glen's desires to the surface and continually feeding his lust for me. I have him to the point that he, mentally and physically, actively seeks fulfillment through my body, with an animal carnality. Which, for a man who is now 60 years old, and whose lifetime has been filled with satisfying sexual experiences and skills and stunningly beautiful partners (I've looked through his photo albums), all of which would have surely dulled his ability, or desire, to react erotically to just boringly common stimuli. He had been a jaded veteran, bored, but making a last stab of it when I came along. My belief is that without a constant source of new and increasingly provocative and stimulating ideas and circumstances, any un-sated libido he might have that still hungers for excitement, simply couldn't be satisfied by the unimaginative and ordinary "same old, same old" crap that little Miss "Holly Homemaker" kills her husband's sex life with, once or twice a month. Wonder that he isn't happy. Girls, I'm trying to get you to compare what I'm doing with Glen, to what you aren't doing with your old man. Let your guy watch you make out with a strange man in a bar sometime and see if that doesn't rile his waters and turn him into a man of steel, as well as put your kettle on to boil, too. What's the big deal? You aren't giving your heart to the strange guy, you're boosting his fantasies, so he's not losing anything, and you're arousing your guy to the point that he may not be able to wait until you get home. Topping it off with stirring your own pot as well. Seems "win, win, win" to me, right? This ain't difficult stuff, you only make it hard. Pun intended. After Glen's four decades of leftovers and repetitions of previous experiences that have occurred time and again within that time span of his life, it would naturally make it ever so much more difficult for any stimulus to achieve even a little arousal within him. It seems to me that it would require many more radical and aggressively rigorous situations and partners for him to, not only be able to get it up and keep it up, but even to enjoy it as well, and not have it be simply another chore. How many times can you watch the same Mickey Mouse cartoon before it looses its entire entertainment factor and becomes merely annoying?