Big Brother Bottom (Part II)
Adam: I know, the names have changed, but I guess I better take a page from my sisters’ part of the story…
The problem is, I don’t know why she changed what. Names are one thing, that’s so nobody can figure out who we are, and what we’ve been up to, but then I did the math. She said I’m 3 years older, and our youngest sister is 3 years younger than her. Then, she changed it in the middle of the story so she’s 4 years younger than me, but a whole 6 years older than Poppy?
Maybe I should just go right ahead, and call her Peggy. It’s true, she’s really into nailing boys, but at that age. I’ll say she’s a little older than 9, and a little younger than 12, which she would be if she was 3 years younger than Amber.
Okay, I guess that brings us around to her hair, since that’s actually important to the story. She’s not a redhead, not no more, but when we’re younger, we were both blonde. Her hair got darker when she got older, and she didn’t get her period until 5th grade. I guess that’s just normal girls lying about their age, they’re always a little older until they start pushing thirty, and then they’re 20 something until they can finally admit they’re middle age. I can kinda understand that, just try and make the numbers add up? She’s such a terrible liar, she doesn’t even bother getting her facts straight.
Okay, so now I guess I better start thinking about how I got this way in the first place. It’s true, I used to play dressup, and let them give me makeovers when we’re little but that didn’t make me a crossdresser. I never tried on their underwear, in fact I kept my pants on, and just pulled the dress over my head, until my shoulders wouldn’t fit.
Amber did start puberty before me. That part is true, but you remember what she said about me getting a power trip, and turning into a control freak? Well, I don’t know if that’s what I was afraid of, or I just played along, because they were my sisters, and I had no one else to play with. We’re latchkey kids, mom and dad changed jobs every once in a while, and I guess we moved around a lot.
Sometimes into a nicer place when we could afford it, and other times, we had to live in a trailer, or 2 bedroom apartment when times were tough. They didn’t always have jobs, at least one of them was unemployed until they found a new one, but when it was dad, he was never a stay at home dad. He was always out, either working, or looking for work, while mom usually just got referrals.
It’s not important, but she stayed at home when she could, and each new job came with a different schedule. Sometimes she was home when we got off school, or there to pick us up. For a while there, dad was on 9-to-5, so he was home for the weekends, but then they both went back to working full time.
Which left me “The man of the house,” and I had a car. The old car, but it was officially mine, so I could pick the girls up from school. Amber was in middle school, and Peggy just started 5th grade. That’s when I first saw Deadpool, and Deadpool II, and I knew about his 4th wall breaking, but I didn’t know about his sexual. Stuff.
I never really was into comic books, and I really liked the old Batman cartoons better than Xmen, and Spider Man. Now wait, let me go back. I’m sorry, but I forgot something that happened when Peggy was 6, and I must have been 12, or 13?
In middle school, anyway. So, 5 or 6, but that was the first time she walked in on me. You know, with a boner, and doing what I could to take care of it, but I hadn’t really gotten into porno yet. It’s just that experience made me a lot more careful about hiding it, and that was when we all lived in the same room.
I mean the kids room, just the 3 of us, but dad was out of work, and mom wasn’t making enough for the 5 of us, so we had to stay in a 2 bedroom apartment, for a couple years. It just so happened to be when I was in Jr. High, so I didn’t have anywhere to go besides there, or in the bathroom. (One bathroom, for all of us, too.)
Then, I discovered porn on the internet, or actually I had a friend that showed me, and took advantage of me. He was in high school by then, a freshman, but still. I thought that was cool, and felt proud to be hanging out with a teenager in high school, but you know that’s how they get you.
He never made me do anything gay, but he tried to. He showed me stuff on his laptop, and asked me if I wanted to try it, but I said “No,” and finally got weirded out enough to stop hanging out with him. I’m lucky he took no for an answer, he didn’t even stalk me or anything, so I don’t think he was really in love with me. He was just horny, and gay, so he lied about that.
Hey, straight guys say the same thing to girls to get in their pants all the time, so why should gay boys be any different? I don’t hate him, or any other homo, I’m just not. Well, honestly, I don’t even know any more. Maybe I just wasn’t ready to face my bi-curiosity, and maybe I just hated being lied to about it.
He was in the closet, of course. in middle school, yeah bisexual chicks can come right out, and tell anyone “I’m bisexual” if they’ll listen. We had a lesbo couple too, and they got made fun of, but in Jr High, if it’s not one thing, it’s too. They’ll make something up to tease you about, even if it’s not true.
So, I was was confused, and I couldn’t think about my feelings, let alone talk about them, but you know what? Somehow that actually turned into a fetish to me. Not sharing my feelings, but just feeling. It’s weird but I try not to overthink it, and I hadn’t for years. It kills the mood, when really I just want to shut off my brain, and enjoy the pleasure.
Now I know my sexuality, as well as the next guy. I’m just saying it took a while, and I needed a little help to figure it all out. It came from the most unexpected place, but I guess I better talk about the Black Sheep of the Family.
I didn’t know that. Mom, and dad got so close to a divorce, and while they were split up, mom got pregnant with her boss. I was too young, just doing the math, minus 9 months for pregnancy, I must have been 5 years old. Who really remembers being 5 years old in any detail? I remember asking “Mommy, when’s daddy coming home?” and her crying when she said “I don’t know,” but that’s about it. I barely even remember that much, and Amber was still a toddler, so she must have told them about it later.
It is kind of girl stuff. I mean, she didn’t tell me, even though I’m the eldest, because I’m a boy, and that would be awkward. My dad sure didn’t point out that Poppy doesn’t match, and she’s probably even named that because Poppy seeds are black, but I got my name from uncle Adam. It’s just weird having a normal name like Adam, when your sisters, aunts, and cousins are all named after stones, flowers, and spices based on what color their hair, or eyes were when they were babies. I have an aunt named Beryl, and her daughter’s name is Emerald, because they both have green eyes, and Emeralds are some sort of Beryllium stone.
Oh, sorry, I guess I change the subject to avoid it too. Maybe she changed the ages to fit the age restrictions for this sight? I don’t know, but I don’t guess it’s important. Where was I?
Oh yeah, when I was in middle school, and Poppy was 5, or 6. I woke up with morning wood, and the girls were already up. Probably fighting over the bathroom, because they always did, and still do it today. So, I had the room to myself, and I didn’t even bother getting up. Back then, I didn’t have a hand full to stroke, the normal way.
The tip was super sensitive, and since I was already pitching a tent. I fished it out of my underwear, and just rubbed it around under the sheet. It must have been hot, because I only had on a pair of briefs, and a sheet, so maybe it was summer, or just a weekend, I don’t remember.
Then, Poppy came in, and caught me in the act, but she ran down the hall to tell. “Mom, Adam’s playing with his Peter in the bedroom!” So loud I could hear her through the door, so I got up, and put some pants on before dad came back and knocked. Asked me if I was “Decent,” then came in, and sat down to talk to me about masturbation.
He was pretty cool about it, all things considered. Especially since Poppy had just gotten out of the bath, and all she had on was a towel. So, he got the wrong idea, but I told him that had nothing to do with it. I don’t find her sexy, and I still don’t. She’s not just my sister, my little sister, but she was still just a little girl, and I’m not a child molester.
No really, if I had any interest in that, I sure would have gotten the chance to do it. It’s not like that, in fact it’s just the opposite. I’m really her willing victim, but she didn’t start out that way, right away. First, I had to get into porn, with Chester. No, that’s not his real name either, but I thought it fit him, since it rhymes with Molester.
He never touched me, and he never got me to suck his dick, but he tried to. First, he just asked if I wanted to see a picture of a naked lady. “Okay,” even Amber was just barely starting puberty, so he showed me pictures of full grown women, with tits, and everything. I was just sprouting, a few hairs here and there to play with, but he was already well on towards growing a decent sized bush.
He was ejaculating, and I was just starting to (But I don’t remember if I was shooting blanks when Poppy walked in on me, because she never gave me the chance to finish.) We masturbated together for a while, and then he started escalating quickly with the porn. After topless women, he moved right onto full frontal nudity, and strip tease, then he got off, and put everything away. I kept spanking it, until he offered to help me, so I lost my erection, and put it away for later.
I came back though, so the next time, he showed me a girl with dildos, a vibrator, and eventually a butt-plug. “You want to try that?” He asked me when she sucked on the dong to get it wet enough to stick in her snatch. “How about this?” He asked again, when she got to rubbing it on her butt hole.
Wet with spit, she moved it out of the way so you could see it glistening, then the next one was a shot of her stretching it out around the pointy tip of the butt-plug. “NO!” I finally had enough, and pushed his hands away. “Don’t touch me, I’m not gay!” Thank god Amber got home, in time to scare him off, but he put his dick away, and folded up his laptop before she came back to the bedroom to get started on her homework.
That’s when I started keeping the secret from her. Because I was this close to getting gay with Chester, and he wasn’t taking no for an answer, but he wasn’t forcing me, neither. He kept trying to talk me into it, “Come on, it’s not gay if one of us plays the girl. You like dressing up as a girl, don’t you?”
“Well, no.” but Poppy had shown him pictures of me in drag, just to embarrass me. “Not really, but that doesn’t make me a drag queen.”
“Well, okay, I’ll play the girl the first time, but don’t you want to know what it feels like, to get a blow job?”
“Well,” I was starting to break down, “Not from another boy though. That’s still gay.”
“So, I won’t tell anyone if you don’t. It’s not gay if you’re bi curious, haven’t you ever felt a little bi curious?”
“Well,” I did have a raging boner, “Not before, but.” I was about to say okay, as long as you don’t tell anyone, when we heard the front door, and I was so happy she showed up just in the nick of time, but I really didn’t want to lose my virginity to him. For one thing, even if I am Bi, and even if he was making me a little curious, I was also confused, in denial, and most of all?
Submissive. I just didn’t know that yet, because who ever heard of a submissive male before? I guess this was back in the naughty aughties. The Oos? I don’t know what you call them, before the teens, I guess I like the “Oohs” because each year had 2 0s in the middle, so that’s what I called them. Like, if you take 2007, and turn it over, so the 7 looks like an L, and the 2 looks like an S, you could say it read “Loose.”
Sort of. I know, I’m changing the subject again, sorry. It’s a nasty habit, but that’s another thing I learned from my sisters. This time, it happened to be Amber, who’s the best at avoiding the whole subject, that I ever met, anyways. Princess of denial, since she wasn’t a queen of anything yet, but she was well on her way.
Just try not to think about it, I told myself. If you concentrate on not thinking about it, long enough, you’re so busy thinking about not thinking about it, you forget what you’re trying not to think about in the first place, but that’s not healthy.
You end up only thinking about it until the last second. At least that’s what I did, I tried not to think about his dick. So, I got on the computer, and I started searching for girls with sex toys. I even typed in [No Dick] and searched. Which took me to [No Dicks Allowed] which was lesbians, or bisexual chicks, or straight women acting like bi-curious teenagers, because that’s what the script said to do.
You know what? She’s right, I knew that porno was about as fake as pro-wrestling, but that’s just another thing you don’t think about when you’re trying to beat off.
Don’t think about dick don’t think about dick… I could almost write a techno song with no other words but don’t think about dick while the beat gets harder, deeper, and faster just barely enough that you don’t notice if you don’t think about it until it gets louder, and louder, and you can’t even hear the words any more, and you’re so close you know it’s just a couple more strokes before…
You let go, relax, and blow your wad. Just guess what pops into my head right then. At the last second, when you’re so close you couldn’t stop cumming if you wanted to. That’s right, the exact same thing you managed to not think about the whole time you’re building up to that, so you could keep an erection.
“Huh!” I just sat there, on my bed while Amber was on the bottom bunk across the room. She slept up on the top bunk, so Poppy didn’t have to climb up, and I wanted to say something. She kept “Shush!”ing me whenever I took a breath before I could even open my mouth. “I’m trying to do my homework?”
“Sorry,” I got up, but she just said “Shush” again, and shook her head. Flipped back a page to get back to her place, while I went out, and tried not to get a boner.
“Nghm!” I even squeezed my balls in my pants, hoping the ache would make it go away, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t know it at the time, but it was so sick, and fucked up that’s what made it such a turnon. It wasn’t that I was gay, or even bi-curious, at that point. It’s because I wasn’t gay, Chester was, and I was this close to letting him get in my pants.
Dad said that if I had to, I could go in the bathroom, and beat off in there. I didn’t want to, I just wanted the boner to go away, but I was so ashamed, humiliated, and confused. for the first time, I was afraid that Amber would catch me beating off, so I had to hold my breath. I can only guess that all that stress, and the inability to get rid of a boner when I didn’t want to built up, and I couldn’t get it out of my head until I blew my wad, and passed out.
“Huh?” She knocked on the door, and I shook my head, in the corner of the floor. I don’t even remember cumming, but when I moved my hand, I felt it sticking to my fingers in my underpants.
“Are you in there?” Poppy was really beating on the door now, “Open up, I really have to go, and it’s not just a number one. It’s a number two, what’s taking you so long in there?”
“Sorry,” I washed my hands, “I just have to.”
“Don’t even bother flushing the toilet. Just let me in, I’ve got to go!”
“Okay!” I flushed it anyway, since the lack of anything in the toilet was as suspect as not flushing it in the first place, since I had to beat off to stop feeling gay, and I was so scared that anyone would find out. The last thing I was going to do was tell anyone what Chester almost made him do, which was his plan all along.
Of course, that’s what “I won’t tell if you don’t” means. He doesn’t want anyone to know, so if he does get you to do anything gay. You’ll keep his dirty little secret, just to protect your own, even though it’s all his fault. He made me do it, and he almost made me do more, before my hero.
Amber, she was right there where I left her. Well, she pulled a chair in from the dining room to sit on, so she could spread her math books out on Poppy’s bed, but she missed the whole thing, and I was just relieved that I seemed to get away with it. For a couple years, but it wasn’t Amber I had to worry about, of course.
So then, I started getting on mom’s laptop. She had one to run her CAD/CAM programs on, so she could keep working on whatever project when she got home. It also had a disk drive, and a phone jack. So, I could get an AOL CD, and dial up the internet. I know, that’s 90s stuff, but we’re poor, and dad was worried about moving into public housing as the next step. So, we didn’t even have the internet, but we had a phone, and you could pick up AoL CDs out of the gutter, because they were practically worthless bye then.
Sorry. Again, byegones.
So, a long story short, that’s how I got addicted to porno. Shameful masturbation, and it was a few years before I could even look at pictures of sex with another dick in it. Because porn stars didn’t shave their balls back then, and the first look I got of hairy balls was when I came so close to getting molested.
Deep down, some sick part of my subconscious kind of wished I did. Or he did, and I didn’t stop him. What if he didn’t take no for an answer? It wasn’t just the last second, right before I cum, but of course you’re unconscious when you sleep, and I had to sleep some time. So, it started out as nightmares, rough gay rape nightmares, but I always woke up with a boner I had to take care of to calm down enough to try and go back to sleep.
Then, I guess in the mean time. While I was going through this, I also started finding new stuff on the internet. First, it was “No boys allowed” mainstream lesbo porn with toys, and stuff. Then, it was like Girls Out West? That’s an Australian site, but around that time, I found what sites showed you teasers. I don’t know, maybe Xhampster was there all along, and I just didn’t know about it yet, but they didn’t have full movies back then.
Those were on pay sites, you had to be 18, and get a credit card to get on. However, they did have teasers, and at first, that’s what all the free sites like Dirtydaughter had. Free pictures, and even trailers from paysites all linked on 1 page you could search through on the thumbnails.
That led to strapons, until finally I saw my first femdom video, and it was a big lightbulb moment. I forget exactly what it was called, but it had some of the keywords? [Dykes take turns strapon fucking their bitch and each other.] It just didn’t say anything about their bitch being a man, tied up, and ball gagged in a sex swing, hanging by his wrists, then bent over on his knees for the big finale.
Of course it was just a teaser, so all you got was 15 second flashes, and then they cut to the site logo right before one jerked him off on the other’s face, but she had her mouth wide open, and I just sat there.
“Huh!” Mouth wide open, with my boner throbbing in my pants, and probably trying to unzip the fly from the inside. I didn’t even touch it, the 2 minutes of action was so intense, and enlightening? All I could do is sit there, and think that’s perfect. I don’t have to worry about it. Anything, yeah I’d seen some tied up tickling sex.
Most of that was pictures, but we’re talking 20 something “Teens” and tickling. Laughing, but nothing rougher than holding up a hairbrush. Right by the red oval of the swat, but because it was pictures, they couldn’t show the actual spanking. Just before, and after, but one swat before moving on.
So, softcore BDSM? I had to work my way up, but at first it was just bondage lesbo play. 20 something coeds, acting like step-sisters, or school girls, and improvising sex toys. Tied up with ribbons, or pantie hose. A playful swat with the hairbrush before turning it around to stick the handle in 1 hole, and licking the other.
Yeah, it was dirty, but play rough. Not what I would call hardcore, but considering the nightmares I was trying to forget, I guess my definition is a little skewed. No victims, and no dicks, until I saw a guy getting tied up, beaten, and tortured by 2 “Lesbians” with strapons. Fucking him, and each other. One getting fucked sitting on his face so he had to lick her ass.
“Huh, yeah.” I got my dick out and found more. “Fuck his ass, yeah. Suck that dick, choke on it.” That wasn’t me, but it wasn’t a dick. it was a dildo. “Lick the shit off my dick, you like it? You don’t get to lick my pussy, you dickless little worm. You eat my ass.”
“Fuck my ass, now. Uh!” He girlfriend scooting back on his chest. Pushing him off, and gripping his huge cock in both hands.
“Uh,” then a quiet little grunt. “Adam?”
“Ashit!” Too late, I wasn’t even close.
“Ihnhm!” She held her mouth, shaking her head, but never took her eyes off my spurting cock.
“Poppy, uh! What are you doing in here?”
“I’m not.” She pushed open the door. “What ARe you watching in here?”
“Huh!” I pulled up my pants, and shut the laptop on the back of the toilet.
She calmed down, but was still giggling a little. “Well, it sounded really. Intense in here. Are you okay?”
“Fine?” Just embarrassed, ashamed, and still glowing from a pretty intense orgasm.
“Well good, At least you’re not going to blow it all over the place, and hit your head on something again.” She let me out, but she didn’t follow me back to my room.
We moved, again. Different bathrooms, 3 bedrooms, which ment I had my own again. Not that I wasn’t still terrified of this exact thing happening, or anything like it.
“Oh, come on, I won’t tell if you show me.”
“I’m not going to show you porn, who’re you gonna tell?”
“Well, maybe dad might like to know you like to look at boys taking it up the butt.”
“Uh, they’re not boys, they’re men, and it’s not gay.”
“I know, who said anything about it being gay?”
“Well, I’m not. I like girls.”
“I know, but it still sounds really dirty.” She shut the door, and leaned back so I’d have to move her to kick her out, when I don’t even want to touch her, let alone.
“Girls like who, Dillon Harper?”
“I don’t even know her, I never heard of Dillon Harper, and you just made up that name.”
“Well,” she thought, “I don’t know, if that’s her real name.” She tapped her chin with 2 fingers, then looked back down, “Maybe it is her porn name, but I didn’t make it up.”
“Well, where’d you hear about her, then?”
“On there,” she pointed. “Does mom know what you’re looking at on her laptop?”
“I don’t know? It’s none of her business, and none of yours either.”
“Well, you should at least clear the history before you give it back, give me that.”
“No?” I held it behind me.
“Uh, I just want to show you,” but I thought I could resist her. Why shouldn’t I, she was only about 11, and she was just a girl, to me. Not a woman, not like those women I had only seen fleeting glimpses of, in teasers, and never even had a real hope of meeting one in my lifetime.
Little did I know that she was one. A dominatrix, and it started out playful enough. Just like the tied teens tickling I’d seen, and never even wondered if anyone else knew about it. I thought I’d gotten away with it, I tried to be careful, and I had no idea that video cashes existed. Let alone how they worked, but then she explained it to me.
“You know how it says buffering?”
“On the video?”
“Yeah, uh huh? That means it has to build up a cache, so the video can play smoothly without getting all fuzzy, and freezing.” She brought it up. “That means there’s a temporary copy here.” She showed me, right there on my bed. In their room, they had the bunkbeds split up, so they could sleep across the room like she used to sleep across from me.
Pretending to be asleep, but while she was fake snoring, she was listening. She had her eyes cracked, watching me too, and when I went to the bathroom. She listened at the door, too. “It deletes the cache automatically, so you have to catch it quick.” she brought up the video I was watching. “It doesn’t clear the history all on it’s own unless you tell it to, in settings.”
“Well, how do you do that?”
“I’m not going to tell you.”
“Huh, okay, but you have to do something for me, too.”
“Like what?” Well, she was watching a couple of girls gangbang a guy with strapons, but I didn’t have a strapon.
“How about a blowjob, then?”
“I can’t give you head, you’re a girl!”
“Then kiss my butthole.”
“No!” It’s not that I can’t say no. I could always say no, it’s just that i can only say it so long, before she talked me down to say okay. She never gave up, and I figured out how to find history in settings, but that didn’t stop her either.
It just put off the inevitable, until finally she leaned over at the breakfast table. ‘what about spanking?’
“Huh,” I crossed my legs, before I even started getting a boner.
‘you like spankings, don’t you?’
“I don’t know.” I was already forgetting my surroundings. Where I was, who was around, which was dad pulling milk out of the fridge.
“What?” He stood up, and shut the door.
“Oh, just something at school,” she hugged my arm. “Adam is helping me with, right Adam?”
I nodded, and tried to swallow the dry lump in my throat. He poured some in his cup, and stirred it in his coffee.
“Can I have some coffee?” I heard myself asking, without remembering to ask.
“Go ahead,” he got out his phone, and hit [clear] on the microwave. “I got to go to work.”
“Bi hun.” She giggled. Then, when he left, she raised her voice.
“You have been such a bad bad boy.”
It wasn’t the first time I’d felt it, with her. It’s so subtle, you don’t even feel it creeping up, until it. Well it doesn’t go dark, you have to close your eyes, but that just shuts out everything else. “Yeah,” I nodded, “Okay.”
Subspace, I think I even read about it somewhere bye then. “Don’t worry,” she didn’t even giggle. “It’s not gay, just get up, and bend over the table.” She took the spatula off the stove.
“Yeah, okay.” I don’t have to think, just obey. She hit me, for the first time.
“Ow! Huh!” I relaxed again. After the second swat, on the other cheek. “Yes mam.” It was just a surprise at first.
“Tell me what you did.” The rubbed the flat metal over my stinging pockets.
“Well,” And that’s how it began…
“Penelope” (Sister/Brother Anonymous, Alias)
What do you want me to say? Yeah, he’s my brother, but then I found out early on that he had this switch?
I don’t know what else you call it, nowadays you talk about “Triggers,” but that’s not quite right. In the BDSM community, you can be a top, bottom, or a switch. Sometimes, you can flip their switch.
Victims get triggered into flashbacks, and I guess certain kinds of crazy people can too. I mean, if you ever talked to a paranoid whack job on the internet, I’m sure you’ve run into “Don’t get me started.” Whatever it is, Aliens, Liberals, SJWs, Feminists? They’re not even in the conversation until someone says the keyword, and then they butt right in with “Well, actually…”
Let me tell you all about how NASA faked the moon landing to cover up the flat Earth, and make way for the lizard people to take over the world, and mark us all with microscopic tracking chips disguised as vaccines. Because all this Covid is just a hoax to get a needle in your arm so they can finally mind control everyone who’s not smart like me. I’ve got tinfoil, and I know how to use it!
The first guy to call you snowflake, and ask you if you’re triggered? Yeah, nothing like that. In fact, in some ways he seems to think it’s the exact opposite.
He’s got this safe space, this happy place filled with all the peaceful thoughts where he feels comfortable. He doesn’t have to think, he can just feel in his head. Unfortunately, before he found it, he packed all the teenage hormones, sexual frustration, homophobic doubt, and fear of being exposed as the fraud he isn’t in there before he knew what he was doing.
His subconscious, where he can really confront himself, and the way he feels, once we cleared out all the nightmares. Subspace, he can get there on his own, but before he found it himself, he showed me how to take him there.
Big mistake. Okay, if you knew that you could snap your fingers, and make a man do whatever you wanted, with a big hard boner, how long do you think you could resist that? “Oh, I’m not really into power and control.”
Okay, then if you’re satisfied with that, then make sure you never get a taste of either. Because it’s more addictive than meth, heroin, Viagra, and war all rolled into one. Oh, you don’t think that Viagra is addictive? Okay, then try to tell someone they don’t need it, I dare you. I don’t even drink coffee. I don’t need it, when I can just close my eyes, and remember to get a rush.
You ever heard that, “It’s not about sex, it’s about control?” Well, that’s not true. It’s totally about sex, AND Power. Sex doesn’t do it alone, and Power just makes me horny, but I don’t have to rape anyone. I’m lucky, that I never had to rape anyone, because I could get that same rush at home. I could do it, but I don’t have to.
I guess you could say I grew up with it? I didn’t know what that was, but even before I knew it felt sexy. I got cheap thrills from petty little things like lying, and getting away with it. Telling on someone, and getting them in trouble, it just so happened that someone was my big brother.
My Big Bottom Brother. It’s not as simple as snapping my fingers, but I’m glad it’s not. That’s part of the game, and while it’s not the best part, your opening moves make the endgame that much better. I like the dance, the reluctance, every time he says “No,” it makes the “Yes, mistress” that much sweeter.
I’m a Dominatrix. Okay, probably either a psychopath, or sociopath too. Depends on who you ask what’s the difference? It doesn’t matter, but I’m okay with that. I like being bad, it makes me feel good. I know that’s why there’s no cure for it. We know we’re broken, but we don’t want to fix it. So, good luck with that, if we don’t help.
So, now I’m supposed to write out how I got this way? Huh, I don’t know. It’s the whole chicken and the egg thing? Take my brother (Not literally, he’s Mine, but if you want to watch.) He doesn’t know whether he was always submissive, and that made him put up with us making him pretty, or he liked us making him over, and that helped him find freedom in submission?
Yeah, I don’t get that part either. Or the Box. It doesn’t matter what box, it doesn’t even have to be a box. You can just hold his head down in the matress, or a pillow over his face, if you don’t have a blindfold and a ball gag yet.
I guess this whole started because my sister caught us with his head in the drier? Yeah, that’s confusing, and I totally understand that part. It just helps him think inside The Box, but it doesn’t help that those were her clothes in there. Also, the kinkiest thing she could even imagine was fingering her boyfriend while she blew him, but she didn’t have the guts to ask him if he was into it.
Of course not. A 16 year old boy? Don’t even ask, “That’s so gay.” Dipshit, never had the first clue of what she saw in him. Mister right there, the first one that asked her out. “Okay!”
I guess they had that in common, to start. It’s pretty natural, for most girls. I’m not most girls, but our older brother isn’t, neither. Of course, it’s weird, and kinky when a boy does it. Goes into heat, and get horny from submitting. (Or faints when it all gets too emotional to take.)
The real kicker is what I do to him, whenever I get the chance:
Whatever he wants. Let me say that again, just to make sure you didn’t read it wrong. Whatever HE wants. That’s what makes it BDSM, and not rape. Okay consent, but he’s not going to consent, unless he gets what He wants. I know, that might surprise you, but that’s what domination is all about.
It’s not torturing him to make him do what I want. That’s rape, it can’t make him want it. The trick is making him tell me what he wants, and what I get out if it is him. Exactly where I want him, forever. I ruined him for anyone else, man or woman. Boy, or girl, he can’t even look at another person sexually any more, because it doesn’t matter what they look like.
What they have in their pants, how big their dick, or tits are. How old they are, whatever they say, whatever the promise or offer, whatever tricks they might have up their sleeves, because it’s not about them. All that matters is who they are, and they are not Me. They can’t have him, even for a moment, because they don’t stand a chance.
They don’t know him, the way I do. The can’t get in his head like Me. They can’t have him, because he’s Mine, and and I am his fantasy. His deepest darkest nightmare, and his hottest wet dream. I’m the one that showed him how to get into his own head in the first place, and as long as I fulfil his every desire, he can’t even think about anyone else.
Anything else, I am his world, and the rest of it can go fuck yourselves. Beat that!
Ask your therapist if moral advice from opportunistic sex offenders is right for you? This is a fantasy, and an ideal one at that. A natural dominant (That doesn’t exist) finding out that her big brother is a butt boy, and so easy to dominate, even a 5th grader can do it.
Bullshit. Don’t ask for her snapchat, because not only doesn’t she exist, but she can’t exist. Not that there aren’t female sexual sadists. That’s just as much a myth as the natural dominant, born from wealth, falling in love at first sight with a virgin in her early 20s that works at a hardware store, and buying her a car for her first date.
Sound familiar? The truth is that nobody is that good without years of training, and experience. They’d like to think they are naturally gifted with superior intellect, and the rest of you mongrels are barely fit to kiss their feet, but they’re delusional. It’s a delusion, but narcissism needs a mirror, and they tend to look for their reflections in someone else.
Especially their superiors, in some way. Superiority, and Inferiority do not exist, completely. Just because somebody is older than you doesn’t mean they’re any Wiser for it. Or male, or white, straight, ordained by god, or handy with the tinfoil. It’s all the same delusion. People don’t like to feel Inferior in any way.
Well, not normal people. Honestly, subspace is a “Real” as the subconscious. Some people can find it, and some can even learn to love it, but it’s not normal. It’s just not as intrinsically abusive as a Power Assertive Malignant Narcissist, when they think they’ve found a Willing Victim.
There’s just victims. There’s also Abusers, but abusers can be victimized, and victims can be abusive. Experienced abusers get really good at writing convincing excuses, but that doesn’t make them Good. “It’s not gay,” or “It’s not rape, because he likes it.” Bullshit. Yet another option is a Mutually Abusive relationship, but that tends to escalate to double homicide, if not worse. What there aren’t are absolute ideal people. Happy people, who’re happy 24/7 (Even with medication) Good people who never do wrong, without fail. Honorable people, or loving people. Even your spouses, and family don’t love everything about you, because you’re human, and there’s always something that gets on their nerves. Sometimes, they might even hate you.
There’s just people, and Evil. Evil is easy. So easy that you can do it by accident. Good is hard, and being good, completely good, to everyone, all the time is impossible. Sorry to have to tell you this, if you’re still reading…
#Abuse #BDSM #Incest