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The online diary of an ethical pervert.

Tuesday, 2 September 2008


I'm on my back, The Photographer is fucking me. My hands grip my ankles holding my legs wide appart as instructed. I'm held in place by his word: no collar, no cuffs, just control. He puts his hand over my mouth, pressing down against my lips and orders me to look at him. He is cool and calm, exactly as I am on edge. We balance. He is firm, rigid and almost mechanical inside me and I'm starting to twitch: spasms moving up and down the muscles in my thighs as I struggle to maintain position.

He lifts a pillow and presses it over my face. I close my eyes against it instinctively and the world becomes warm, dark and claustrophobic. It's not that I can't breathe, although it is more difficult. A part of my brain immediately starts to panic making me whimper with each gasp. The air gets warmer, more uncomfortable and I'm concentrating on each breath, every now and then some padded fabric gets trapped against my mouth and I gag slightly. As this continues I start to shudder, first a tremble then stronger as my head begins to swim. He thrusts harder and
my cunt tightens around his cock, in a combination of shock and desire perhaps, it's involuntary certainly and makes me jerk against him, increasing sensation even further. More time passes, he keeps fucking me hard and steady. I'm already a little tired from keeping my legs splayed and that in combination with not being able to breathe tires me further. I feel conflicted: I want to stop, to rest but I don't want to release my grip, to prevent him from enjoying me fully. To prevent me from enjoying this fully.

He presses down more, I can feel his face against mine through the fabric, he's listening to my increasingly loud moans, I can just about hear him shushing me gently and I quieten down, but do not feel any calmer. The combination of soft placatory noises, my inability to move and the pillow over my face is very exciting - on the edge of rape play. The fantasy of it plays through my mind as I start to buck against him, increasingly desperate to feel him orgasm inside me. When he does, it is very quiet, and after a while he moves away from me, pushing me onto my side. I lie there, covered in cooling sweat, unable to speak, thinking of nothing whilst my limbs continue to vibrate, achingly. Smiling.

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