If you’ve ever listened to Lady GaGa’s song ‘Teeth’, you’ll understand when I say that song is the perfect soundtrack for this entry.
Rough sex.
Oh, I love love love it.
I try not to let myself get disturbed by the fact I enjoy being man-handled and thrown around like some helpless little slut. But, of course, it’s hard not to. As I said in my first entry, I’m very open and unashamed of my sexuality. But I have to admit that sometimes I feel guilty for enjoying rough sex. And I use the term loosely because I know everyone’s definition of ‘rough’ probably differs. I’m by no means on the extreme end of that definition, nor am I on the soft side either. I guess I’d lay somewhere in the middle, where rough sex to me equals lots of hard, hard spanking, hair-pulling, slapping and strangling. Yes, strangling. No, I’m not one of those people who is into erotic asphyxiation. I just like the feel of hands circling around my throat, giving me that exhilarating threat of violence…it makes me hot just thinking about it.
More than not, I’m in the mood to be abused. I don’t want the man to ask permission to do things.
‘Is this okay?’
‘Do you want me to do this or that?’
Blah Blah BLAH.
Stop talking and just fuck me already.
Don’t be a bitch. I offered myself to you, so take it. Take what’s yours and fuck me like a man should fuck a woman. Use me. Grab me by the wrists and throw me down, digging me into the mattress so hard I can barely breath or scream. Rip my clothes off. Spank my ass so hard that the red hand mark left behind feels warm and sore for hours. Or use a belt, remind me how naughty I am. Bite my nipples. Tug on my hair until I’m crying out in half-pleasure, half-pain. Don’t make any apologies. Sometimes, I want you to just skip the foreplay and shamelessly ram yourself into me while I’m still tight and unprepared. I’m shocked and unready, whimpering because it feels fucking amazing to be filled but so incredibly tight, too tight. Dig your fingers into my flesh; my arms, my thighs, my ass. Spread my legs wide and just thrust into me with wild abandon.
I don’t mean to offend anyone when I state the obvious and say it’s safe to assume from the above that I love a good rape fantasy. And according to research, I’m not alone. Some studies have found up to 50% or more of women have at least occasionally had ‘rape fantasies’. The experts state there are a variety of reasons women tend to have rape fantasies– we enjoy being ‘irresistible’, fear is an aphrodisiac, or even the good old ‘guilt avoidance’ theory, to name a few. Honestly, I don’t have any desire to delve into my brain to hypothesize and scrutinize why I enjoy these things. I just do.
So back to the guilt. That tiny little voice in my head that’s always whispering….“Why do you like this? You are so naughty. You bad, bad, dirty little whore…”
Maybe that voice has a point. I am a naughty girl.
Who’d like to spank me?
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