A history of sorts - Part four

Contrary to the "It continues as it starts" concept, I actually settled down quite a bit in the second year.

Being miles away from campus, and a cycle as my only transport, I couldn't go out to the campus bar on a daily basis any more. So instead of 'daily pickups', I started having. . . well, not 'steady' boyfriends, but at least I'd spend a few weeks at a time with one bloke. Mostly.

But it was quite interesting, because it broke the "get drunk, have one-night stand" cycle of the first year. Sex wasn't with somebody who was taking advantage, at least not so much. It was strange, because, just like the times when sex had involved me having an orgasm, it made me feel a more active participant. I didn't like it. What I knew, what I was comfortable with, was the role of being too inebriated to be in control - a role where the man was in charge, and I was just being. . . used, I guess. That's why even then, relationships never lasted more than a few weeks: I started feeling really uncomfortable when a relationship moved beyond casual sex and started being about "getting to know each other". It made me too much an equal partner.

The only person who I did sleep with consistently that year was Jane. Almost every night when I was at home and not with a man, she'd call me into her room. She was always very bossy and demanding, very domineering, so the discomfort I had with other people never really arose with her. She always treated me as a very unequal partner: Sleeping with her consisted of me fucking her with her sex toys, or me doing oral on her, or me masturbating her, time after time until she was sated. Then at the end, either I would be told to masturbate, or she'd masturbate me once, or sometimes she'd use her toys or strapon. Whatever method it was, I had at most two, and usually only one orgasm each time, while she had as many as she wanted. Whether it was because she was deeply selfish, or because she was perceptive enough to know that was how I would feel most comfortable, or a mix of the two, I don't know. At the start, anyway.

I continued with my meditation practice, and got slowly better at it. I discovered how deeper trance states brought deeper physical relaxation, and realized just how good it felt to be so calm and relaxed in both body and mind. But I couldn't get into as deep a state as I'd have liked, which I mentioned to Jane during one of our periodic "talking in trance" sessions. I explained how, that first time she'd had me have sex with her, it had lead to a feeling that was more detached from waking events than any other trance practice. She was curious, and had me explain the origins of the apathy that all my fears and shame had been removed by last year. Then she had me detail all the times it had happened, and what I had done about it.

I told her about times when I'd been groped on the crowded dance floor, and that I'd overcome the embarrassment of being fondled by taking the hand(s) and deliberately guiding them to my breasts or arse. I told her about times I'd been embarrassed about being seen naked, and overcome it by playing with myself while he watched. I told her about times I'd been ashamed of drinking so much, and overcome it by ordering a triple-shot of vodka. I told her about the time I'd felt guilty about snogging a bloke in front of a crowd who all knew I'd never met him before, and how I'd gotten rid of it by sliding under the table and giving him a BJ right there. I told her everything I could remember. She seemed fascinated by it.

Eventually, she'd heard enough, and gave me her explanation. It was because, she said, my mind wasn't good at resolving dichotomies. On the one hand, I felt guilt about having so much sex. But on the other, I liked the feeling of being under somebody else's control. This, she pointed out, was why I felt almost compelled to get laid so often, even though I didn't really have much fun doing it: It wasn't about sex, it was about feeling helpless and non-responsible because somebody else was in control.

This meant that although I was doing something I didn't enjoy, I was doing it because it was part of something I DID enjoy. So I was both enjoying and not enjoying myself at the same time. Unable to decide how that should make me feel, my mind compromised by kind of sending my feelings to sleep: Rather than feel two contradictory things at once, it was a way to not feel anything. And since meditative trances are a state where you're both awake and asleep at the same time, it was only natural that when the dissociative state was invoked from within trance, it would deepen the trance, as it was sending another part of my mind to sleep.

I wasn't sure about this, so she said we should experiment and see. I agreed, and she told me to undress without letting myself out of the trance. I felt a mild twinge of embarrassment, but not much as she had, after all, seen me naked many times before. She asked how I felt, and I told her. Then she handed me a dildo, and told me to do a little show for her. Sliding it into myself while she sat and watched made me feel a much more acute sense of shame, which I almost automatically sought to eradicate. I pulled the dildo back out of me, and slid it up my arse instead, and moaned in fake pleasure as I moved it in and out. Sure enough, one-upping myself numbed out the 'embarrassment, and as it had before, it brought a strong sense of detachment from myself with it. The feeling of being in trance deepened considerably at the same time.

"Did it work?" Jane asked.

"Yes."

"You felt ashamed about showing yourself like that."

"Yes."

"And made the dissociation stronger by one-upping the shame."

"Yes."

"And it put you deeper into trance."

"Yes."

"The dissociative state deepens the trance state."

"Yes."

"And you want to be able to get into deeper trance states."

"Yes."

"The more time you spend in trance states, the easier you find it to be in trance when you want to be."

"Yes."

"So you should do what you can to be in the dissociative state as much as possible."

"Yes."

"I can help you, because I understand you better than you do."

"Yes."

"Put the strapon on."

She didn't want me to do any kind of foreplay, she was already very excited. I supposed that she had been turned on by watching me fuck myself and moan for her. She seemed very turned on, at any rate, and demanded I fuck her unusually hard. She was very vocal when she came, but yelled at me to continue. "Keep going! Don't stop, you bitch, fuck me! God, yes, fuck me, you slut!" was pretty much the theme.

After she'd had enough, she said it was time to try inducing the dissociative state. For starters, she wanted to spank me, explaining that it was something she'd always had a fetish for, and it should certainly qualify as something I didn't really want to do. I consented, and knelt over her lap, a position I hadn't had to assume since I was a kid. I heard the first 'smack' before I felt it, and for an instant wondered if the emotional numbness had somehow become physical as well. Only for an instant, as the sharp pain suddenly burst into my awareness. I let out a startled yelp, but Jane didn't hesitate to bring her hand down on the other side. Another startled outcry from me, but it was all distant by now, happening to somebody else. She carried on spanking me for quite some time, I've no idea how long, but my arse was red-raw by the time she finished. She asked then if it had had the desired effect, and I sniffed that it had. It was only then that I realised I had actually been crying. I guess that shows just how distanced I felt from myself when in that state.

I had a cold (well, fairly) bath, and was almost surprised that there wasn't a "tsss" of steam like in the cartoons when I gingerly sat in it. It helped some, but I still winced when I towelled myself dry afterwards. Wrapped in my towel, I went to go back into my room, but was intercepted by Jane, who caught hold of the towel and pulled it off. She liked seeing me naked, she pointed out, and it should help me stay numb. . .

It did. Mentally AND physically, as we couldn't afford much heating. It's a good way to burn off calories, being cold for several hours a day. But it worked, I must admit: My meditating improved almost overnight, as I was spending so much time in a semi-meditative state. Mind you, it's possible that meditating naked with clamps on my nipples and a dildo inside my you-know-what helped that, too. Anybody's guess, right?

It'll probably come as no surprise by now to learn the Jane took every opportunity she could to 'help me' by making me demean myself for her gratification. She dropped all pretence of sex being for anything other than her benefit, and insisted on it more often: Wake her up in the morning, fuck her; Go to university, come back, fuck her; Get home in the evening, fuck her; Get ready to go to bed, fuck her.

You get the idea.

After a while, just being naked in the house wasn't enough for her, and I had to go about on all-fours, only standing when absolutely necessary. Then nudity was replaced with Anne Summers-style underwear, or other such "I'm not a woman, I'm a sex object" outfits. She spanked me for doing something wrong, for not doing something right, for not doing very well at meditating, and sometimes just for the hell of it. She also stopped being so disapproving about me bringing men home, and instead started actively encouraging it. Sometimes she would even come to the bar in the evening, and point out the man she wanted me to get off with. I found it very difficult to numb the humiliation of being pointed at a guy and told to fuck him, so she started doing that more and more often.

Finally, she reached the point which, in hindsight, I realise she'd been aiming for for ages. She asked me one day, "Do you know anything about BDSM?"

Since she was a computer student, I was used to her referring to obscure acronyms, so my reply was something along the lines of "No, is it some kind of networking protocol?"

She laughed quite hard at that, and then explained what it really was. I had heard vaguely about sado-masochistic and dom/sub relationships before, but only as much as any typical teenager has. She went into a lot more detail, and finally explained that she thought I would benefit from me becoming a 'formal' submissive to her. The idea caused an immediate feeling of strong apathy, so I agreed to it. She smiled cheerfully and told me to kneel on the floor so she could put her collar on me then.

The collar I didn't mind so much, but I found the leash very demeaning, especially when she immediately used it to drag me all around the house 'to give me a walk', occasionally using the free end to smack my buttocks if I wasn't staying well enough 'to heel'. I might actually have objected, if she hadn't put a ball gag in at the same time. Pets on a leash, she said, shouldn't talk.

They may be popular, and I daresay they're a lot better than the old strip of cloth wedged in the mouth that you see in the movies, but I find ball gags to be a real pain. They always make my mouth water, and it's not easy to swallow properly with a ball wedged in your mouth, so I always worry that I'm about to drool when I'm wearing the damn things.

She never said, but I suspect Jane mostly made contact with other people into the BDSM lifestyle via her computer. I'm sure she didn't know them all already, you can't keep something like that secret from a housemate. But whatever means she used to contact them, as soon as I had agreed to let her domme me, she started introducing me to other BDSM people. In particular, she started lending me out. I was never told, but I think it was a swap rather than a donation - little clues here and there make me think that when I was sent to some other dom/me, somebody else was keeping Jane company.

If I had found it hard to cope with being told who to have sex with in a bar, it was all I could do to accept that I was being handed around like a party favour. That was beyond embarrassment, it was total humiliation. But just like all my evenings out in the first year, altho I didn't enjoy it at all, I found it somehow very compelling as well. I realized I wasn't really doing all this because it helped me meditate - that had just been an excuse. I was doing it because, on some level, I found it very satisfying to be used like this. I WANTED to be ordered around, I LIKED being humiliated, I ENJOYED being demeaned and treated like a slut. I imagine it must be similar to a drug addiction: You might hate being addicted and want to give up, but at the same time you ache with desire to satisfy your addiction.

Slowly, I pushed all my reservations and dislikes into that numb state of mind, and it became easier and easier to cope with situations where I was handed out to Jane's friends. As I was just getting used to it, she took it a step further. I was lead to the main room, on all fours, on a leash, blindfolded. Not a word was spoken, but after a few moment, I felt somebody come up behind me. His cock slid into me, and off he went. So far, so normal: This was nothing I hadn't done before, it was almost mundane.

Until somebody cleared their throat. Somebody who wasn't the man I was having sex with.

With the exception of when Jane had watched a few times, I had so far been one-on-one in Jane's arrangements. It appeared that I was now on-show in front of at least one man, and for all I knew there were dozens.

As my first lover pulled his cock out, I felt two hands take hold of my head, one on each side. I knew this signal well enough by now, and opened my mouth. I had just started to suck on it when I felt man #1 shoot cum over my ass. So, no room for errors now, there were definitely at least two men in here.

It reminded me of the first times I had reached orgasm in the first year. I was in a completely alien situation, I had no idea at all how to handle it, so I just froze up and waited for it to be over. It was almost dream-like, unreal. The 'it's somebody else' feeling that was almost my default state of mind by then became drastically stronger. It WASN'T happening to me, it couldn't be, because I wouldn't do something like this. I wouldn't have sex with strangers in front of an audience, that wasn't the kind of thing I'd do. So it was somebody else.

Something very hard was forced slowly up my arse then. Either it was a third man, a 'plastic helper', or man #1 was an early Viagra tester. That, I figured, made it three people in the room. Were there still more? Impossible to tell. But #2 gave me something to swallow then, and was replaced by what could have been #1 or maybe a #4.

That was it, tho. After receiving a second blast of cum over my buttocks and down my throat, I was lead away by my leash to my bedroom. I was never so relieved to get into my nice, familiar bed. I had found the situation shocking, degrading, and an utter humiliation. I felt totally used that Jane had put me into it without asking for my consent or giving me any warning. And, of course, I couldn't wait for her to do it again.


Concluded in:

ID: 971467   (Rated: XGC) Title: A history of sorts - Part five  Description: The final chapter By: tatty_oldbitt