Diary of a Broken Me: Lessons within Lessons
by Penelope Jones
Cum for me, Princess.
I read the text message over and over again from you. My body shudders even as I think about it, again. Maybe I should start at the beginning, rather than at the end?
Yes— I shall start there, and then you will understand.
I never expected a chat-box to become my entire world, or should I say the online version of being owned, yet somehow you have made this my reality. You— who I flirted with just like all the rest. You— who I never thought twice about until you sent that first personal message. Since then, I have thought about nothing else. You have wormed your way into my life, and my heart. No matter how hard I fought to keep you out, you were one determined S.O.B.
Me— the girl who has commitment issues, me— the girl who thinks online relationships are idiotic, and just a heartbreak waiting to happen, and I have gone and fallen for you. I ask myself daily how it happened; how did we end up here? The answer is you are an amazing man, and I am lucky to share my life with you.
I don’t know if I told you this, but I think I enjoy most of all, our conversations as friends. When I wanted to run scared, when I pushed you so hard that anyone else would have run away— you fought to stay by my side. Settled in, ready to be just my friend. Thank you … Thank you for allowing me to make the choice to serve you. Thank you for not giving up on me no matter how many times I came up with a new argument for why this couldn’t work!
We have daily conversations regarding my behaviors: good, bad, or indifferent. Each day has brought us new adventures. I think my most favored so far is touching myself as often as possible, getting my clit so hard, it pounded like a heartbeat after a marathon, and then I stopped— because you commanded it. I think I got myself to the very edge a dozen times or more that day, and my orgasm was mind shattering, earth quaking, and I can’t wait to do it again— and again.
Aspects of my life that I never have turned over to anyone else, I am allowing you to make final decisions upon. Again— How’d you weasel your way so far into my life in such a short period of time? And the answer is always the same, you nurture and care for me like no other person in my life has, or probably ever will. You fought harder than I was willing to fight for myself, I adore you: Thank you for wanting me, needing me, and caring about me.
Now that I have the beginning out-of-the-way, let’s get to why I am writing for you in this diary you gave me. You requested that I tell you about the highs and lows of my week within our relationship. I am not sure if this is so I can improve, or so that you may, but either way I am happy to be sharing it.
I want to end on a happy note, so I shall start with the low of the week.
The day I thought I pushed you too far, and thought it would be the end of us. I found myself staring at the phone. I knew you were busy, and yet I continued to find ways to rationalize in my head, all the other things you were doing that had nothing to do with me.
Turns out, you were doing exactly what you said you were doing— working. However, I’d already done the deed, by the time I realized the truth. I’d once again let my imagination, and those in my past dictate how I react to things. In your email, your chat-box, and your IM window, a message waited for you … “I am walking away, have a nice life.”
I can’t remember how much time had passed before you responded to my blatant attempt at attention seeking, and my over-zealous way of shoving you out of my world. And in a very simple fashion your message read, “So you think you can dismiss me out of your life?” Why must you always say the right things? I know…because you are my owner, and this is the way it’s supposed to be, but try telling the broken me that.
The more you said the right things, the more you pushed— the harder I fought to protect myself. Which in turn had you fighting just as hard to prove me wrong. Over and over again points were made, and I was defeated.
You win…you’re right. Maybe we can do this, maybe this can work. I gave up fighting you, and the moment I did, I felt a sudden relief wash over me. The weight of a thousand thoughts lifted from my shoulders, and I could breathe again. So, maybe it wasn’t the worst thing that happened, maybe it was just a perfect lesson learned?
Lesson learned with another lesson. We talked through my fears, and you understood, just like every other time I pushed you away, that its me and my shattered heart that’s wrong with our relationship. We decided being friends was the best option for us. We— like I’ve any say in the matter. You decided, and I think we both know that your decision was the catalyst for why you own me.
The lesson within the lesson.
Putting me on friendship terms allowed me to realize I didn’t want, nor could I be just your friend. Jealousy issues arose, and that was another can of worms, we will open later, but you knew making me sit on the sidelines would bring me around. Or that our relationship wasn’t meant to be more if I didn’t? You didn’t put any stock into the last option.
I’m the princess in the tower that screams down to her knight in shining armor. “Save me…but on my terms.” You were willing to do just that, you rescued me from that proverbial tower, and now I want nothing more that to serve you. Which also becomes a factor, when you are a chat-box— another dark, dank hole of trouble, for another day.
As you rescue me though, I realize my behaviors, though in my mind they were completely necessary to save me, you found them appalling and set to correct them. And you’d think this would’ve been the worst part of my week, being in trouble. Being punished— but it’s the most exhilarating I have felt in my entire life, and it’s because of you.
Trust— was the lesson you taught me.
Trust in your word, trust in your heart, and trust in your ability to know what I need, when I need it. Trust doesn’t come naturally to me, due to my fucked up past: my father who beat us all, my mother who let it happen, my ex-owner that abandoned me in my time of need. You knew it all, and carefully maneuvered around each potential landmine, and you kept me on the edge of orgasm for over twenty-four hours. It wasn’t until I beg you, my owner for release, that it would be granted. Beg to your satisfaction, then I would be allowed to cum for you.
We spent hours sexting back and forth, and I can’t remember how many times I begged you to cum, as I strummed my fingers over my clit, inserting toys at your request. Task after task, your commands were followed through without fail. My ass was well used, and my pussy was dripping with need. I begged you one finally time, and you typed. “Send me a picture— be a good girl for Daddy, and send me a picture of you playing with your clit. Then you may cum.”
I froze instantly, I’m sure you knew I would. I just stared at the phone in disbelief. There’s no way I can do it— I think I even said it out loud a few times. I told you how unfair you were, I called you a prick, but ultimately you’re right. If I wanted to cum, I would send it. If I didn’t, no big deal, except it’s a VERY big deal. My clit was so swollen, and I’m pretty sure I could feel the throbbing in my throat.
I’d lost my mind I think, but I sent you a picture before I had a chance to change find it. And I sat and waited…waited for you to type something, anything. Self-doubt ensued after only minutes. How could you just leave me hanging like that? How could you— you promised? All that and more ran through my mind, until I saw your reply. Setting my mind at ease almost instantly. “Princess my cock twitches just looking at your picture.”
I am sure I swooned, just before we commenced to finish me off. You left me in a puddle of a mess, and a euphoric bliss like I’d never felt before.
And it was the most mind-blowing orgasm to date.
Cum for me, Princess.
I’m reading your text again, and touching my pussy. Thought you should know.
Your Broken and Spilled out Princess
Penelope Jones- Spanking it since 1996!