Ch. 2 The Chat Box Dominant: Diary of a Broken Me … #ASMSG #Erotica #Sep

The Diary of a Broken me

Dirty whores don’t get to cum, but Princess’ do!

Dear You,

Maybe I should address you as something else in this journal, but for now, please forgive me, but you will have to do. I just said good night to you. Well, I typed good night to you. I wonder if I’ll ever hear your voice? If I’ll ever feel your skin against mine? I’m very wet as I sit here writing to you. And you know why, but I want to tell you anyways.

A month has passed, and we’re still together, still unsure how that happened. Countless times I invaded your IMs to tell you to fuck off, to tell you to go flirt with someone else, to tell you to own someone else, and every time— every, damn time you talked me out of it.

Why do you keep talking me out of it? You know I’m more trouble than I’m worth. You want more than I’ll ever be able to give and vice versa. I’m one high-maintenance girl, yet you still want me.

Please forgive me, I have to get some things off my chest, but then I promise to share why I’m dripping with need for you. Please know I wish I could share these things with you outside of here, but there isn’t enough time in the day, and I don’t want to spend what time we do have discussing over and over again, why I’m so fucked up.

P.S. You’re not always a bowl of cherries to deal with either. Our schedules conflict, yet I find myself wanting to type to you in whatever form you’re available in email, IM, and/or chat-box. Neither of us is getting enough sleep these days. We talk less and less inside that chat-box, but every once in a while you send me a message from there just to remind me where we started. You’re quite demanding considering we live an ocean apart, and why do I keep doing what you say? Because you have infested me like a drug, and you are eating away at my exterior, leaving me vulnerable. And strangely thus far, I’ve had only a melt down ever few days or so.

Bless you for putting up with my slightly insane ass.

Jealousy’s a dangerous play ground to play in, yet you like to keep us there, at least when we role-play. Sexting, the 2000’s version of phone-sex! I do love that term, although I never thought I’d be the one doing it with someone. I still ask myself why, but you keep coming up with great answers to my question. You don’t care that I am fucked up like a soup sandwich, and honestly I question your sanity at times. Thought you should know.

I know this post’s a little different, but we are different now, and I don’t have completely miserable days anymore. I don’t doubt you at every turn, now it’s just every third turn left, right?

I made a funny. I hope you laughed.

I want to listen to your laughter. Another something you should know, mine’s infections I’ve been told. Maybe it isn’t just you that is like a drug, perhaps I’m your heroin to you being my cocaine. You lift me up when I am down, and I soothe you when you’re in need.

That brings me to why I’m wet. I’m imagining that it’s your cum that’s seeping from my pussy lips. I’ve a great imagination, but you already know this, since role-playing’s what got me in this state. This juicy, amazingly euphoric state.

You were the boss, and I was the secretary…

That’s right you dirty bitch. Suck my cock, or these pictures go to your husband. And you don’t want that, do you? Huh?”

I’m gasping right now just reading those words. Imagining my fingers brushing over my clit, as you typed them to me.

Thank God for sexting, right?

My hand’s around your cock, and my head lifts just enough for you to see a deep-sea of green in my eyes, my angry eyes.. You know I need this job, fucking asshole. “Fuck you…you won’t send them. Then I won’t be your dirty whore anymore. And you like my dirty whore mouth. So…fuck off, eh?” And like a greedy slut, I gobble your cock right back down my tight throat.

That’s when you stopped talking to me for a good three or four minutes. And I couldn’t tell you this then, but it made me giggle with glee. I knew that my type sex just had you cumming buckets, and I knew it was because of me. And as the owned one in this relationship, it’s rare I get to be giddy over such things. So thank you. Not that you could help cumming in buckets—I’m that damn good.

I waited until you returned, and then you made sure I was dripping with need, to write this entry.

You’ll always be my gutter slut, you know you can’t make it without me.” You know those words would ring in my ears like a bell or whistle, and my mouth was a flame that couldn’t be snuffed out. Your cock thrusting in and out of my throat, deeper and faster as I gag.

My fingers slipped over my clit like a slippery slide, until they’re inside me. My hips lifted into the air, and I was just about to cum, when you typed…

Don’t you fucking cum, you don’t deserve to cum.”

Mid thrust of my three fingers into my cunt, and I stopped. I stared at the phone in disbelief. Not again— you really are cruel sometimes.

Please let your gutter slut cum, Sir?” My voice fills with yearning for you. You grab my hair shoving your dick down my throat, my pleas left unanswered. My throat opening and closing as the head of your cock attacks like the Normandy invasion.

I lightly teased my clit hoping your reply would be yes, praying you wanted to allow me to have pleasure as if it were at your hand. Of course, The reply never came, at least the one I hoped for.

No. Dirty whores like you don’t get to cum. Stop touching your pussy.” You kick my hand away, and my heart feels as if it might beat out of my chest. Each thrash of your hips into my mouth, sends your cock violently across my tongue. “Taste that pussy, whore? That’s what raunchy girls like you deserve.”

My clit thumped like a ravaged beast that begged for the thirst to be met, trying to catch my breath, and hold off the inevitable. Thankfully, you saved me from failing. The chime that rang across an ocean.

Now, Princess. Cum for me. Daddy needs to hear you cum.”

And like that we’re back to owner and owned, and the big, bad boss man went away. You my hero, my Daddy returned.

My entire body sang a tune of erotic notes, and my clit hit the melody that we both sought. I cried out over and over, convulsing for you. The rocking motion of my hips caused one more jolt, and my stomach tightened. My orgasm took hold of me like a possession it never intended to give back.

I remembered the phone finally, and you waited patiently on me, like you always do. I typed back.

Thank you Daddy. You’ve no idea what you do to me. I need to changed my sheets.”

It’s soon after, and like I said before, we just said goodnight. Being the dirty girl that I am, I’m sleeping in this mess you helped me create. And it feels deliciously naughty to do it for you.

I probably will say this every time I write here, but I can’t wait for the next adventure.

Two things before I go.

  • Wash your hands after sexting, it makes the keyboard sticky.
  • Check your email, please…I hope you like my voice— I came for you.

Signed,

Dripping-ly Yours

Ch. 1 The Chat Box Dominant: Diary of a Broken Me #ASMSG #Erotica #SEP

Diary of a Broken Me: Lessons within Lessons

by Penelope Jones

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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.

For you.

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.

XoXo

Your Broken and Spilled out Princess

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Penelope Jones- Spanking it since 1996!

Copyright 2012

Ch. 8 CBD- Diary of a Broken Me #ASMSG #Erotica

If you missed the first 7 chapters … start from the beginning of  The Chat Box Dominant: Diary of a Broken Me.  (Ch. 8 originally posted for the Erotica Holiday Countdown)  Please note this will be the last publicized full chapter available in this section.  The first of the three books will be up for editing next week, and hopefully on Amazon by the end of March! HOLY COW! 🙂

Diary of a Broken Me

Santa starts off poorly, but finishes strong!

 

Dear Santa,

You just turned my entire life upside down,

Holy cow!

You really have to work on your approach to things.  You can’t spring it on a broken girl that you would like her to give up her whole fucking life, leaving behind her family and friends, and move across that big ass pond, to serve your every whim as your 24/7 slave.

That’s what the contract said.

The contract that you disguised as a Christmas present. You, who pretends to be Santa for kids every year at your toy store, sure have no idea what I wanted for Christmas! I was kidding about wanting to be on the naughty list!

ShitFuckDamnPissAndHell, Sir.

I was so not expecting it, and I overreacted, for that I’m truly sorry. And I’m not apologizing because  you spanked me. I’m apologizing because you didn’t deserve that, Sir.

I love you and Cynthia, but we hadn’t even talked about anything beyond this visit, Sir. Cynthia looked so hurt by my reaction, and we both ended up shedding tears together. You were so angry you had to leave the house for a bit. I ruined our first Christmas, which may be our only Christmas together, after my behavior.

I flipped out, we all screamed. A few vases, and I think one plate was shattered. Thankfully the children were with your parents for the afternoon, so we could have an adult Christmas, I had no idea how adult it was going to be, nor the childish way it was to end.

I’m not sure I can pack up my life, and forget those I love and care about. You and your wife are  the only people I even know over here, and how safe or sane is it for me to want to move half-way across the world after only one, three-week visit?

UGH!

Even after you dealt out my harsh, yet deserved spanking, we fucked like rabbits, and I’m still having doubts, Sir. Not about you or Cynthia or us. I’m having doubts about you wanting me— past this three weeks.

I’m doubting me. Seriously doubting me.

They always find a reason not to want me, this is why I’m broken.

Not pretty enough, not smart enough, not sexy enough, or not Emo enough? Or Perhaps… not Masochistic enough, not a big enough slut, too slutty, too sexy, and last but not least… too Emo.  Seriously I’ve heard it all, Sir.  Pick your poison. Which one of those do I not fulfill for you, or maybe it’s more than one.

FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!

You ordered me to write exactly what I’m feeling, and the answer’s OVERWHELMED!

You pushed too hard, too fast, too much…I say too much!!

Damn, damn, damn it, Sir. I can’t stop thinking about the end. Six months of us working on our Master-slave relationship. Six months of you looming over the broken pieces of me, and putting them back together carefully, and one three-week visit has changed it all. I want to stop writing right now, and pack up my things, and sneak out in the middle of the night. I’m not going too, but I want to— You’ve no idea how much I want to go, before I ruin both our lives.

I’ve told you everything! No matter how much I gave of myself to my past owners, no one has ever loved me forever.  And Sir, you won’t either. See that’s the problem, you already have someone you’ve vowed to love, and I just can’t see you loving us both, forever.

Fucked up, I know…I told you that, Sir.  This isn’t brand new Maci day. I thought I was healing, but obviously I was wrong judging by my reactions today. Maybe I’m just too broken to be fixed, Sir. I’m just going to end up bringing us all down.

Don’t you see how wrong my way of thinking is, and yes I know it’s all part of who I am, but how can you love those things about me, Sir? I need you to explain this to me, please?

P.S. Up until I opened that gift this has been the best time I’ve had in my life, I thought you should know. I also think you should know, I truly believe you two love me, and I love you as much as I can love anyone, being as broken as I am.

I feel like tomorrow maybe we should discuss this as adults, and maybe sleeping will help to easy my worries and my mind, and we’ll all wake up with a better sense of things.

I keep mentioning three weeks, but it’s only been two, and it’s another week till the New Year. You really want me to stay after today?

You, contract creator— have you lost your mind with these rules?

You want me to sleep chained to the foot of your bed at night? Where the hell do you think I’m gonna go?

I have to ask permission for money? I’m not a child. That rule is ridiculous.

Crap…you’re stirring. Maybe I should pretend to be a sleep? Nah…brb. I’m going to talk to you.

Wish me luck! Ha Ha!

Dear naughty elf of mine,

You and I just had a very long discussion, you’re now sleeping, and I thought for a change I would write a little note to you.

You’ve dated, loved, and have been owned by serious idiots. Those blokes didn’t obviously see the beauty you have inside and out.

And you don’t either— you dumb broad.

It’s really not a good thing, baby. We’ve talked about the way you doubt yourself, and how it upsets me. I’m going to have to start punishing you each and every time you show doubt. You will learn to trust yourself, and trust in me.

One day you’ll stop blaming yourself and realize it was them. The sad part is, I think you know it, but you just want to protect yourself.

Fucking stop it. That’s my job.

Maci, I love you.

I told my fucking wife about you while we were on a family vacation. You would think that would be enough to show you how much I care, but I didn’t stop there. I convinced my wife that having a conversation with you would make her realize why I love you.

I’ll be damned if I wasn’t right, she loved you as much as I did, and still do, both of us still do darling. You’re my princess, and I’m not letting you go that easily. I read what you said above, but you had to know I wasn’t going to just take no for an answer? We both worked too fucking hard to get here, didn’t we?

Yes, we did.

I knew you weren’t asleep yet, I heard you sniffling. I also knew that you weren’t going to sleep if I didn’t do something about it. I good cry and a good cum, should do the trick!

Now…I’ve busted your ass once more, turned your already tender and pink bottom into a nice lovely knotted and bruised surface, and then I made love to you on the soft-fur rug in front of the fireplace. I left you curled up there to write you this note, but I’m going back to wrap you in the safety of my arms, and sleep with you for the night.

This isn’t our last Christmas, and you didn’t ruin it. You made it the most spectacular Christmas ever. I got to spank my beautiful slave girl’s ass, and I got to fuck the two most beautiful women. How could that be a ruined Christmas?

Moving here after 2 weeks is completely insane, and if you had made it to the bottom of the contract, you would have realized it didn’t take effect until exactly 1 year to the date it’s signed. That gives us all time to adjust, and time to fit into our perspective roles with one another.

You will need to work less, I will arrange this, but we have time to discuss it all. I plan to prove to you that you do deserve to be loved unconditionally, my slave.

I love you Maci. Chipped, slightly cracked, gently used; I love everything about you, my sweet broken baby girl…deal with it.

Your owner,

Lucas

Penelope Jones

Copyright 2013

Day 26 Erotica Holiday Countdown @the_weremouse

  • My next chapter for The Chat Box Dominant: Diary of a Broken Me posts on Thianna’s Kinky blog today… It’s live now!  ( Go here: Thianna D’s Kinky Blog )
  • It’s the last chapter that will post anywhere on the net until the first book is published! ( Don’t worry, I’ll post snippets here and there. I wouldn’t leave you high and dry. I like you wet and hard. lol)
  • I’ve picked the titles: 3 books that weave together the lives of Lucas who owns Maci, but is married to Cynthia. Each journal entry takes you on another adventure, piecing the broken Maci back together again. Diary of a Broken Me, Diary of the Humpty Dumpty Me, and Diary of the Super-Glued Me… You don’t wanna miss them.
  • And look for the first installment of the books Dairy of a Broken Me in the spring of 2013.

Ch. 7 The Chat Box Dominant: Diary of a Broken Me #ASMSG

 Diary of a Broken Me

I’m Breathing Your Air, Sir.

To whom it may concern,

It’s 4:15am and I just crawled into my bed. Which is exactly how you described it. You and Cynthia sleep in the king sized bed, and I have a special bed at the foot, just my size, and perfect for a princess. I’m too excited to sleep. I’m breathing your air, I’m sharing your space, and I’m watching you breathe.

I’m dead tired though, if that makes any sense.

The 16 hour flight here was something to write home about, but instead I’ll write you. You love my jokes, admit it, Sir? I’m so thankful you told me to take medicine for my tummy before I got on the plane, and continue taking it as prescribed. Three people got sick, and I can’t tell you how blessed I feel they were nowhere near me.

I arrived forty-five minutes late, but you were there waiting on me. You looked just like on Skype, only better. I know people thought what the hell’s this broad doing when I fell to my knees at your feet in the middle of the airport. You told me to go with my gut reaction, Sir. And you didn’t seem too upset with the display, in fact I believe you said it humbled you just a little to know I had that much devotion to you.

I love you, Sir. For the first time in so very, very long I feel whole, I feel complete. I feel a hole has been filled up inside of me that was void of life for so long. You two fill my life fully, and I am devoted to you both for as long as you will have me. No, that wasn’t a declaration of I’m not returning home, even though you did bring it up at dinner. I can’t make that step yet, Sir. I hope you understand.

You are the bestest (yes, bestest!) Christmas present a princess could ever ask for, Sir. However here are lots of boxes under your tree with my name. I don’t have lots of boxes for you or Cynthia, I have a few things, but I couldn’t travel with them all. I do hope one of you will take me shopping? I’ll feel horrible, if I don’t get a few more things. I’m not trying to compete, I can’t. You make the big bucks, Daddy, but I want to at least get you THE present, both of you for that matter. I’ve no idea what to get the children either. I’m sure Cynthia and I can hash that out.

I love her hair by the way Sir. I know it’s odd to tell you this here, but she has the most gorgeous copper penny color. And it’s super silky, and feels like the softest cotton running through my fingers. And we’re similar in skin coloring, she’s a purist of white shade, and turns a delicious shade of pink, just like me.

I watched tonight, opting not to participate, but to help entertain, and masturbate for you both, while you played and fucked. My pale blue eyes never left the lusty scene you two provided, my fingers slipped through my slipper slit over and over, and plunged deep into the walls of my sex as you fucked Cynthia senseless.

It was one of the most beautiful acts of love I’d ever witness, and we all came in unison. You pulled me in closer, so we could all collapse into a pile of sweaty bodies. I never felt more loved than I did at that moment, Sir. Odd to feel that way, knowing I wasn’t the center of your world. You know what it is, being the center isn’t needed, but being in your life is more than necessary. I’m grateful for the glimpses and pieces you’re willing to share with me.

I’m going to try to sleep now, we have a few busy days before Christmas.

Signed,

The girl who sorta wishes she’d been fucked also ( lol )