A girl who likes SM: A Personal Account

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

I love SM, even though entering this world feels like entering a cage, even though it's a path of no return. I know. But I still love it. The feelings SM brings me are irreplaceable. Savoring pleasure in bondage, the pain barely subsiding before desire erupts. I've tried to record it, but pale words can't express the boiling feeling. This path is too difficult; hiding myself too deeply, no one will discover me, and the desire within is hard to quench. But the thought of exposing myself to the light of day is something I'd rather die than do. From the heart-pounding excitement and tension of chatting online and looking at pictures, to the fear of implementation and the loss of composure as a man—alas, I can only bury SM deep in my heart.
Life's beautiful moments are too short. Shortness is also long. Memories with a touch of imperfection become all the more beautiful. A vibrant, dazzling flower in the garden, before it even bloomed, withered in the vase of a young man seeking a flower. Looking at the withered branches and fallen leaves in the garden, I feel happy. In my junior year, the boys in my class and some boys from other classes were always vying for my attention. The competition between A from my class and L from the fourth department became fierce, turning them into rivals. The girls often teased me about them. But at the time, I didn't appreciate it, and I wasn't particularly satisfied with them. Rather than saying I had a high opinion of myself, it would be more accurate to say I had absolute self-confidence. I treated A and L with indifference, letting them be like toads trying to eat swan meat. However, a dance shattered this balance and changed me. That afternoon, I went home and returned to school late, arriving at the dance floor halfway through. L was standing by the door, and as soon as he saw me, he pulled me onto the dance floor. He seemed very angry, staring at me fiercely as we danced, and several times forcefully twisted my arms behind my back, forcing me to thrust my chest close to him. Although it hurt, I felt a strange sensation, a feeling I never understood even after we moved in together.
There were five of us in our dorm, and by our junior year, we all had boyfriends. Although they came from different places, we had a very good relationship. After that dance, A started dating a girl from Sichuan in our dorm. My behavior was incredibly foolish. I felt terrible for A; he had given me so much joy and care, and all I brought him was hurt. I said many hurtful things to them, and all the girls in the dorm thought I had gone too far. One summer night, they scolded me and started playing around. I was wearing pajamas, the neckline torn open, exposing my breasts. They excitedly chattered and frantically stripped me naked, pinned me down, tied my limbs to the corners of the bed, and then started squeezing me. I felt itchy, in pain, angry, and scared. Finally, I cried, and they got scared too. They quickly untied me and apologized. I didn't blame them; it was my own fault. Later, we made up. That was the first time I had been tied up, and it felt strange. Several nights, lying in bed, I would vividly recall the scene of being tied up, even fantasizing about it happening again. Of course, I would never dare to say that out loud…
After graduation, I started dating L. Dating L was joyful; the liberation and indulgence transformed a girl into a woman. He was from Northeast China and didn't want to go back, but he stayed for me. His rented apartment was small, but our happiness in that tiny room never ceased. He liked me to wear black fishnet stockings, thongs, and high heels with ankle straps. I told him those were things prostitutes wore, things I couldn't wear outside, so I wore them in the room for him to see, and then we'd make love. Although we didn't know anything about SM at the time, looking back now, that's where it all started.
One day, I was in a particularly good mood and bought a lot of his favorite foods. After work, I went to find him. But he didn't come back. I insisted on not calling him, wanting to surprise him. He didn't return until almost midnight. When he suddenly saw me, he was incredibly excited and immediately pushed me onto the bed. I told him he was too dirty and asked him to take a shower first, but he refused. He even tied my hands and feet to the bed with a rope. I struggled, and that familiar, strange feeling returned. Of course, he finally got his way, stripping me naked and tying me to the bed. Strangely, the more intense the feeling of being raped became, the more excited I became. I moaned softly, matching his movements, my whole body trembling uncontrollably. Even now, I can feel a surge of heat, making it impossible to continue writing…
A few days later, I walked in while L was online, startling him, and he quickly closed the page. I insisted he show me, opening the page myself. Ah, so many pictures of girls tied up and suspended, scenes of female dogs being trained, close-ups of breasts and genitals being stimulated while bound—it was so stimulating. That's when I understood what SM meant. It turns out so many people are like me, enjoying the feeling of being tied up; I can't be considered a pervert after all. The burden in my heart lightened considerably, and I blushed as I accepted his request to tie me up. He stripped me naked and excitedly tied me up. I obediently put my hands behind my back, enjoying the ropes wrapping around my body. This was truly thrilling. My breasts and vagina were bound, and I felt like a woman preparing to face certain death. Gradually, I almost lost control of my emotions, even wishing the ropes would tighten further, go in a little deeper. I moaned, craving him to hurry, desperately wanting him to penetrate me. Finally, he couldn't resist either, and pounced on me. We went on so wildly, I didn't care if anyone heard, moaning loudly and unrestrainedly. After we finished, his penis was even chafed raw by the ropes binding my lower body! For a long time after the ropes were loosened, my body felt limp, as if I were anesthetized, I could even feel the blood flowing. It's certain he likes BDSM, but he always avoids saying when it started.
After that, bondage became commonplace, and our sex life became more frequent than when we first moved in together. I went home less often. He would tie me up whenever he felt like it, and there was nothing he could do if he didn't want to. The most embarrassing time was when he wasn't home, I went online and looked at a lot of SM websites. When he came back that night, he actually found all the pictures I had looked at on the computer. My body and my inner world were completely exposed to him. Computers are terrifying. Now, whenever I go online, I feel like I'm being dug out of the 18th floor underground and exposed to the light of day. He always imitated the SM scenes from the internet on me. What I liked most was him hanging me up. He cut a hole in the ceiling and tied a rope down from above. At first, he tied my hands together and hung me up, my feet not leaving the ground. Later, he progressed to hanging me completely up. I didn't even realize my wrists were bleeding from the rope. He whipped me with a belt, symbolically, but it felt very good, a very perverse kind of pleasure. When he tortured me, I was very excited. My moans and the twisting of my body stimulated him greatly. Later, after we broke up, he admitted that as a girl, the pleasure I brought him was immense, a pleasure that not every girl could give. He drew whip marks on my body with red oil pastels, and they looked incredibly realistic. He was also very excited looking at them. Is this considered body painting, or art? If so, why not whip a girl like this and exhibit her in the street? Maybe she'd win an award.
Later, he became more skilled at suspending me, tying my limbs behind my back and arching my body backward, hanging me from the rafters. This wasn't particularly painful, but after a while, I was too weak to lift my head, let alone struggle, and could only let him do as he pleased. He pushed my body, making me swing up there, and as a result, the plasterboard around the rope broke and fell down, hitting me with plasterboard and nailed wooden strips, cutting me in several places. Through the holes, you could see that the rafters were worn smooth by the rope. Some time later, when the landlord came to collect the rent, he saw the damaged ceiling and blamed us. We were terrified and made up a lie, saying there was a cat up there, and we damaged it while catching the cat, quickly paying compensation to settle the matter.
It was incredibly cold then, I was freezing with goosebumps, and even the electric heater didn't help. He lit charcoal on his outdoor barbecue grill and placed it next to me, like a torture device burning me. But he didn't actually do that; he just wanted to keep warm. As a result, one side of my body was warm while the other was cold, and I was sneezing from the cold while being hung up. Hanging me up was the most painful part, as the ropes constantly bound my hands, making it difficult for the skin on my wrists to heal properly. I was afraid to even put my hands out at work, and when it got really bad, I had to wear wrist braces. I remember once chatting online, and a netizen asked me how to find girls who like SM in real life. I said that those who wear wrist braces are mostly like that. Think about it, tennis players wear one brace, but why do they wear two? Back then, conditions were so bad; even taking a shower made me shiver from the cold. But when I held him and buried my head in his broad chest, I felt that even if I died, my life wouldn't have been in vain. This was sexual attraction, and it was my genuine feeling. However, people's feelings can change.
He enjoys outings. Once, we went to Wuling Mountain with friends, and we stayed in tents in the wilderness that night. He wanted me to go out with him to tie up the tent poles at night, but I refused. Then he suggested nailing me to the ground inside the tent, which I also refused. Although it was summer, the temperature in the mountains was still very low at night; it wasn't warm enough in my sleeping bag, let alone lying on the muddy ground. But he forced me. The tents were very close together, and the mountain forest was extremely quiet at night. You could hear any noise from other tents. If I argued with him, others would hear. Out of consideration for my pride, I had to endure it and satisfy him, letting him fix me to the ground with ropes and tent pegs for a long time. The next day, I felt unwell, and it got worse when we went down the mountain. The mountain was quite steep, and I felt dizzy and lightheaded. I couldn't walk anymore, and he didn't even offer to carry my pack. I hired a sedan chair myself, and he mocked me in front of so many friends. I cried almost all my tears, but he seemed not to see it. When I got home, I lay in bed for two days, and he didn't even call. I was heartbroken!
The rope we used was filthy; it couldn't be washed clean, and constantly binding my genitals made it even dirtier. That day, we went to buy rope. He tied me up, and I told him not to tie my genitals anymore, that I couldn't walk, but he wouldn't listen and still tied my vulva. He put a long dress over it, and then another jacket over it to cover the sleeves. It was okay when we left; we quickly hailed a taxi, and it felt alright in the car, except my breasts were too high up and very noticeable. When we arrived at a hiking equipment store, I almost screamed as soon as I got out of the car. Because I was tied up standing up at home, it didn't feel like it when I sat down, but standing up again was unbearable. The rope was constricting my vagina, and any movement was very painful. I wanted to go back, but he insisted on dragging me inside. I endured it, accompanying him as he asked all sorts of questions, and in the extremely embarrassing process, we bought a huge bundle of rope. The rope itself was quite nice, but the whole process was so uncomfortable and shameful. When I got home, my genitals were completely swollen; even now, writing about it is too embarrassing to talk about. And even then, he wanted to tie me up with the new rope he bought. I understand men's psychology and his urgency, but we were doing SM, sadomasochism, a different kind of sexual stimulation, not actual torture. Plus, his cold attitude towards me when I had my abortion, and my persistent suspicion that he was having affairs with other girls, made my feelings for him grow increasingly negative. I thought a lot about our future, about our marriage. SM does give me great pleasure, but it's just one form of sex, one type of sexual game, not the whole of sex, much less the whole of life. SM can never be the foundation of marriage, and besides, I'm not a little girl anymore; I should have my own life. So, not long after, we broke up.
Time flies. It's been almost a year since L and I broke up. I've changed jobs and made new friends. My new boss is from Guangdong, but speaks fluent Mandarin, has a square face, is slightly overweight, but has a straight posture, is witty and humorous, and has a generous and proper demeanor. He cares a lot about his subordinates, especially women—his care is almost meticulous. He's a very typical man, mature and charming. At work, we always joked with him, and the girls all liked him, jokingly calling him "husband," which he accepted one by one, even taking turns giving each girl flowers. He didn't act like a boss at all, yet he won the love and respect of all the employees, making our work enthusiasm incredibly high. Once, I sprained my ankle on the subway to work, and a kind person helped me get a taxi. I wanted to insist on going to the company, but the pain was too much, so I went to the hospital instead. I called my boss to ask for leave. When I arrived at the hospital, two colleagues were waiting for me and accompanied me to the hospital. For several days in a row, he drove me home. I was truly grateful to him. From then on, our relationship gradually stood out from the crowd. I really liked him, but there were two fatal obstacles: first, he was married; second, he was our boss.
A few days ago, A got married, and he invited me to his wedding. My feelings were extremely complicated. After watching him carry the bride into the restaurant, I didn't want to go in anymore. I secretly cried for a long time, and the next day I lied and asked for leave from work. Unexpectedly, my boss came to visit me at my house that evening…
I was in my room, and when I heard it was him, I quickly climbed into bed and pretended to be sick. He brought in a fruit basket, sat down, and said many caring things. I felt embarrassed and started to get out of bed, but he told me not to move. I said I'd been lying down all day and my back was numb. He said he'd give me a massage, and I was overjoyed. He naturally stood up, took off his suit jacket, and closed the door behind him. I lay on the bed, enjoying the warmth and strength of his hands roaming over my body. Gradually, I felt hot all over. I turned over, grabbed his hand, and slowly placed it on my breasts. I closed my eyes, not daring to look at him. He kissed me, took off my nightgown, and gently caressed my clitoris. His movements were tender and considerate; I felt incredibly comfortable. Because we were at home, I tried my best to remain silent and not make any noise. Finally, his heat entered my body. That's how we had our first time.
The next day at work, neither of us spoke. Before leaving work that afternoon, I couldn't resist any longer. Seeing no one around, I called him and asked, "Did I go too far?" He said it was his fault! That's how I became the boss's mistress.
We secretly enjoyed ourselves in the company office, in the car, and in hotels. I was quite mischievous. Once, when he went to pick up his son from school, it was inconvenient to take me. I said it was just a short distance, and after dropping him off, we'd go straight there; I'd hide in the trunk. He smiled and agreed. I hid in the trunk, and when I heard his son get out of the car, I fumbled to take off all my clothes and pretended to be dead, motionless. He drove to a secluded spot and told me to come out. When he opened the trunk, he was startled and quickly closed it again. I couldn't help but laugh out loud. He then understood, opened it again, pinched my nose, and said he was going to punish me. How about that? Wasn't I mischievous? I desperately wanted him to punish me, but that night his punishment was just holding me and kissing my entire body. I so wished he would do S&M with me. Without S&M sex, I always felt something was missing.
The opportunity finally came. That summer, he took me on a trip to South Korea. In a hotel room, I suddenly noticed a box on the wall with a rope inside. I rushed over and, upon closer inspection, saw an icon indicating it was for escaping through the window in case of fire. We lay in bed watching TV, but my eyes kept involuntarily drawn to the rope. I deliberately asked him what it was for, and his answer was, of course, not what I expected. Just then, he changed the channel, and it was showing a movie where several people were pulling a girl. I couldn't understand Korean, so I could only watch the visuals. The title of the movie, displayed in the lower corner, seemed to be "Torture." He didn't change the channel. South Koreans are so open-minded; it showed a man whipping a bound girl and raping her. I was aroused, climbed on top of him, and stroked his penis, instantly becoming erect. I said, "I want it." He said, "Like her (on TV)?" I was immediately overjoyed; he was truly clever and understanding. I said, "Sure, there's a rope over there." I pointed to the rope on the wall. He hesitated for a moment, then took the rope off. I sat up with my hands behind my back, and he haphazardly tied me up, completely clueless. I realized he'd never been into BDSM before; it was probably his first time and he couldn't handle the stimulation. He only tied me halfway before pinning me down, and he ejaculated after just a few thrusts. But I felt so uncomfortable; my desire had just been aroused, and I couldn't bear not being satisfied! I carefully served him, caressing him, taking it in my mouth, and finally it throbbed and hardened again. This time, he finished tying me up; the rope was too long, binding my entire body tightly. He asked if it hurt, and I shook my head. This time he was too rough, turning me over and kneading me, and I moaned loudly with abandon, "So good!!" I hadn't felt this satisfied in a long time. Afterwards, he hugged me and apologized profusely, saying he was wrong. I was overjoyed, but I suppressed my excitement and said it was okay, as long as he liked it, I was willing. That night we talked very late. I said it was God who arranged for us to travel to South Korea, and he said he was God. The next day at breakfast, "Old Huang" (his real name was Huang, a nickname given to him by the tour group), who was staying in the room next to ours, said to him: "Wow, buddy, you guys really nailed it! I didn't sleep well all night." I think he must have heard my orgasmic screams. Haha, how could he know how far we'd come?!
I know it's not good that I scream too loudly during sex, but he likes it that way, so I let loose. I've never told any man that I like BDSM. I've always tried to make him feel that I submit to BDSM for his pleasure, that I don't reject it. I want to live a normal life, but I can't control my masochistic tendencies. I can't imagine my future husband accepting my perversion. But I also can't accept those sex toys that you just lie down and have sex with. I can hardly imagine having a satisfying sex life without BDSM. I think I'll just let things take their course. When I'm old, ugly, and nobody wants me, that's the end of my life. Maybe I'll meet a like-minded man, marry him, live together, grow old together, and enjoy the pleasures of BDSM. Homosexuality has been recognized, and SM will also have its day.
Perhaps SM really excites him. After the trip to South Korea, he treated me even better. He was happy, and of course, I was even happier. To take good care of him, I tried my best to make sure he ate well and had fun when we were together. I prepared a lot of his favorite foods in the refrigerator and cooked them for him carefully every time. I used to study dance, and he liked watching me, so I danced. Later, I even took off my clothes and danced nude erotic dances for him, which made him incredibly happy, as excited as a child. Whenever he came over, I would be naked with him, and he liked watching me do this and that naked in high heels. His SM development was rapid. At first, of course, it was because I was seducing him, but later, I found that he couldn't perform without SM stimulation. He himself said that now, having sex with his wife at home is boring and very short. He wanted to try something different with his wife, but he was called a pervert, so he increasingly didn't want to have sex with her. He only wanted to do SM with me. As a result, we are now together all the time. There's a saying: A private secretary can easily become a part of your private life. But I went from being his private life's lover to his personal secretary. He arranged for me to live alone in a small room next to his office, nominally as his general manager's assistant, to help him with some paperwork. During the National Day holiday, he had someone install a hidden door between our offices, leading directly to the inner room of his office, which was also his resting room. Every noon, I would go to that inner room to play with him. When he wasn't there, I would go online, specifically to SM websites, to admire SM pictures and imagine what it would be like if I did those things. I also liked to secretly draw some SM pictures for my own entertainment. I'm
so embarrassed, my writing was discovered by the boss, and it turns out he was also a netizen from the compound! Oh my god, he posted my articles online and said that I was the one who corrupted him and that he was going to teach me a lesson! I was both scared and excited. He's so smart, I wonder what kind of bad tricks he learned online?
The New Year arrived, and he came to my place to spend New Year's Day. For two days and two nights, a full 48 hours, I became a complete slave! He drove back with me on the afternoon of the 31st. It's been very cold in Beijing these days, so he went out and bought two high-powered electric heaters. He turned them on immediately when he came in. There was already heating, and with the two heaters, my little room was warm in no time. Then, he opened his travel bag and took out his newly bought SM toys, saying they were a New Year's gift for me. Oh my god, I loved them! I quickly took them out to admire them, but he stopped me, tightly binding my hands and suspending me from the iron rings on the ceiling—the ones we had installed during the renovations. Then he took off my clothes one by one. That's when the heaters came in handy; even though I was naked, I wasn't cold at all. He then spread my legs and tied them to iron rings in the corners of the room, leaving me completely naked, spread-eagled in the middle of the room. He smiled slightly, admiring me. Then he took out a bottle of baby oil and carefully applied it all over my body, from my neck to my chest to my thighs. It felt so good; I started moaning. Next, he lit a candle and kissed me while dripping wax. Ah—it hurts, ah, it's so stimulating! Candle wax dripped onto my arms, breasts, and stomach, causing pain in my body but stimulation in my mind. I writhed, groaned, and cried out, and he, too, seemed aroused and enjoying it, his crotch visibly bulging. He untied me, and I eagerly stripped him naked, my body slippery as I clung to him, writhing and caressing him. He held me close, continuing to drip wax onto my back and thighs, the pain causing me to spasm involuntarily, each spasm making me hold him even tighter. We went on like this for a while, until he grew tired and lay down on the sofa. I knelt beside him, massaging him, starting from his feet, inch by inch, carefully avoiding stimulating his penis too much, letting my beloved little brother rest. We were going to play for a very long time. After a while, he felt better. His little brother went limp, but I grew increasingly excited. I put on my own handcuffs and shackles and began to perform a erotic dance for him. He admired me as he painted my naked body with dye: red for my breasts, yellow for my belly, white for my thighs, and, hehe, gold for my genitals! He said it was his sun!
Finally, he spoke: "Alright, get ready to go out for dinner." I quickly took a bath with him, excitedly letting him dress me up. What a beautiful New Year's gift: a silver neckband with three small silver bells strung on a thin silver chain; black handcuffs, one on each hand, separated; a calfskin restraint garment that accentuated my breasts, each nipple adorned with a bell that jingled with every movement. Then I put on a silver chastity belt with a vibrator in the center, which clipped perfectly to my labia. Since we were going out, the leg shackles were temporarily omitted. After I was dressed, he asked me: "What are you?" I knelt before him and said: "I am my master's slutty little bitch!" Then, I cupped his scrotum in my hands, tenderly taking the glans into my mouth and slowly swallowing it. My master said, "Just have a taste first, then you can eat your fill tonight."
We went for a candlelight dinner. I didn't pay attention to what we ate; I just felt the nipple bells swaying and the vibrator in my genitals constantly stimulating my desire. What I hated most was that the remote control was in his pocket. As soon as he saw me calm down a little, he would turn it on, making me restless and unbearable. Then he would turn it off, making me itchy. It was so awful. Luckily, the lighting was dim, and although the other diners noticed something was off about me, they didn't see anything. Only a man diagonally across from me stared intently at my silver neckband. Maybe he knew about SM too?
We finally finished eating. We walked back through the snow. I was already burning up and wanted to take off all my clothes. But he still walked slowly, playing with the remote control. I was really going to die; I could feel the constant flow of fluid down there. Sure enough, when we got back to the room, I took off my clothes, and he untied the chastity belt. Oh my god, it was soaking wet with my juices! I hugged my master tightly, wanting to make love right away. But after he hugged and kissed me, he started dressing me up again. He handcuffed me to my chest and hooked a thin chain around my neck. Then he shackled my ankles, the chain connecting my feet was half a foot long, just enough to move me. Then he told me to lie down, stick my buttocks up, and he gently kissed my buttocks, genitals, and—anus! I couldn't take it anymore!! I couldn't hold back!! At this moment, he inserted an electric vibrator into my anus! He inserted an electric dildo into my vagina. Ah, I was going to die, my blood was boiling, the stimulation in my lower body made me feel like I was flying. However, he just held the silver chain and made me crawl on the ground. Holding a candle high in his hand, I crawled, crawled and kissed his toes, crawled and shouted that I was a bitch!! A slutty little bitch of my master!! I kissed his feet, licked his thighs, and finally, I finally sucked his penis. At this moment, he sat on the sofa, one hand stroking my head, the other dripping candle wax on my back. Exciting, so exciting! My master's darling was in my mouth, my anus and vagina were vibrating, the hot wax dripping onto my skin was burning, and my nipples were swaying and rubbing against my breasts. God, I was completely immersed in a raging fire of desire. I licked, sucked, and moaned, feeling my master's penis throbbing in my mouth, growing harder and harder. I was dizzy, unconscious, my whole body went limp, and I only felt my master's strong thighs clamping my chest and abdomen, his hands pressing against my cheeks, his penis thrusting in and out of my mouth, the movements faster and harder, until finally, he thrust it in forcefully, the glans hitting the back of my throat, and a hot stream gushed out! Ah, my master had finally ejaculated his semen into my mouth, into my heart.

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A girl who likes SM: A Personal Account

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