Fury's Filthy Stories
- Thread starter FurryFury
- Start date
Salvor-Hardon
A kiss is still a kiss
- Joined
- Jun 20, 2004
- Posts
- 15,669
does this mean you are writing again?
please say yes.
PLEASE!
please say yes.
PLEASE!
Stegral
Founder of the BJSP :)
- Joined
- Aug 13, 2005
- Posts
- 8,007
FurryFury said:Aww! Thanks! It's nice to know someone is still interested!
I want to. I'm mostly too busy right now but I'm doing what I can.
Fury
I am... I check in on this thread every day hoping to see a post from you ...
*kicks cyber dirt* darn it... just comments... ahh well patience...
Salvor-Hardon
A kiss is still a kiss
- Joined
- Jun 20, 2004
- Posts
- 15,669
Stegral said:I am... I check in on this thread every day hoping to see a post from you ...
*kicks cyber dirt* darn it... just comments... ahh well patience...
we can play cards while we wait. Stegral, how do you feel about strip poker?
FurryFury
Addict of Sensation
- Joined
- Apr 3, 2005
- Posts
- 29,460
The “Private Use” Room
The “Private Use” Room
There were many private use rooms in this place. I gathered this because as I was wheeled still bound, into one small cubicle-like room, I could see other identical doors leading to what I imagined was more rooms like the one I was put in. I could hear what was happening behind the doors there as we went past. There were grunts, screams, panting and other sounds that could be mistaken for little else than sex. Only to me this wasn’t really sex.
No, it was something less than sex and yet more too. I didn’t have a word in mind for what this was. To me sex should be joyful. It should be because two people involved want it. Though it would quite possibly sound the same, I knew what was going on wasn’t because two people shared love or desire. No, only one person had to have desire and love wasn’t to be part of it at all. Being wheeled from the First Night room through the corridors was like being a rat in a maze only I was the rat. I was tied down unable to look for the way out or cheese or even the water bottle.
I was taken to what I eventually gathered was a one on one room. In that room, those that wished too could fuck me or torment me. They could do just about anything. I understood a trainer would be monitoring the room there was a huge window that I could not see out of, in one wall but at which I figured others could observe, as well as a smaller piece of glass in the door. I guessed that the trainer would only step in under certain circumstances. I wasn’t told this but it felt logical to me. If I didn’t do what they wanted I was sure a handler would come in. I wondered though, what punishment they could possibly come up with that could be as bad as what was already going on?
I thought about the time I’d had with Ian when I had felt cherished and used so well. That was very different from what I was feeling here. I wondered if I could ever truly enjoy sex with a man again. I felt dirty and used, but not in a good way, not like I had with Ian. This whole thing sickened me until felt I might vomit and yet, my body responded eagerly. I began to wonder just what they put in the water here? Why did they ration it and food out the way they did? I suspected I must be drugged in some way. Perhaps that was why I hadn’t fought them off yet. It could be the drugs that kept me from fighting them, that or cowardice. My body thought it was enjoying being fucked, being used and sucking but really, my mind felt disgusted. My heart sank deeper into this hell that was not my life.
The trainers did come in if something was attempted that was against the rules or for more then they’d paid for. The latter was far more common. The thin illusion of privacy made these people try to get more than they’d contracted for. I wasn’t privy to the agreements here. I’m glad I wasn’t. I think it would have turned my stomach even more. I was tied down, likely drugged and there was little I could do to enforce any contracts or rules. I hated the trainers for letting it all happen. I hated the men and those few women who used me like a piece of meat, even as my body flowed and tingled with clear arousal.
I wasn’t supposed to object to anything. I was supposed to act as if I enjoyed it all but the handlers did step in from time to time angry about some breech of the client. Sometimes too they would take this time to tell me to do something better or with more enthusiasm. I hated feeling I had let them down. Even though I also felt no one should be required to do as they expected of me.
The night seemed to go on and on. Ladies, I understand that men think many of us just lie there or stare at the ceiling. While I certainly could stare at the ceiling in this case, I wasn’t allowed to just lie there. As I said, I was supposed to act like this was the most exciting, touch, fuck or pinch ever. If I wasn’t performing well, I was told about it in no uncertain terms and nudged back into the “right” frame of mind.
I was however, often bored out of my mind. I wondered when this one would finally get his or her rocks off and get off of me. I wondered when the night would finally be over. If it didn’t hurt at least a little or if no special force was used I found myself feeling just bored and tired even if my body was creaming for them. I know that sounds wrong. It was something new for me to discover and I didn’t welcome this new piece of the puzzle that was my sexuality. Sometimes I couldn’t help it, my mind just coasted. In those times my body took over and I actually found myself enjoying things a little more when my mind numb. Then when I mentally jerked back into myself I was appalled and shocked.
Honestly too, anyone who didn’t want me to suck them off kind of upset me. This was one of the few things I was allowed to “eat.” I wanted what I could have. I wasn’t allowed to tell them that though. I was just to accept and act thrilled at whatever they had in mind to do with my body.
My body stayed in this place of high arousal all night, but I never came. It was frustrating. I wasn’t even trying to come really, not with them. The constant pace of the fire in my nerves was exhausting. I wanted to cry. I wanted Ian to come love me and put me back together. I wanted my Lady to show up, tuck me into a blanket and make it all better. I wanted someone to care.
It was my body but it wasn’t. My body had become a stranger to me. It was a conveyance for others, a living-breathing thing to use anyway they wanted and would pay for. My captors didn’t care about me but only about the business of using me.
It was mostly a parade of cocks that night. Very few women were interested in me it seemed. I began to find the mostly slight, differences in penises mildly interesting. I sort of made that my focus as the time dragged on. You do what you can to distract yourself.
This one is wider, harder to get my lips around. This one is longer hitting my cervix painfully; those were the kind of comparisons I was making. Most were, thankfully relatively clean, but some were not and some were disgusting with such a build up of almost cheesy consistency that I had a hard time not throwing up when forced to suck or clean them.
Of course this wasn’t about my pleasure at all. Surprisingly the three uncut cocks I saw were overall cleaner and even finished quicker. They seemed to be more sensitive to my mouth or any other places they found. This was my first experience with uncircumcised penises. I found them really sort of a novelty. They were a break of sorts in the monotonous parade of cocks. I wondered what I could do to someone that was tied up, intact and so sensitive. Those thoughts allowed me to give those three men genuine smiles.
What was I becoming I asked myself? I didn’t like this. I didn’t like being treated like a thing even if my body did enjoy it. I didn’t know if that was really how my body felt of if I were being drugged. I couldn’t trust my body. I didn’t even trust my mind anymore, now that I was thinking of tying up someone else. I didn’t know what was happening or really, even who I was anymore.
The night went on and on until fatigue coated every part of me along with a good deal of body fluids wasted by those men or secreted by me. After that room, I was sure I’d never want to have sex with a man again. I was so sore. I’d been used too much and too roughly. My friend didn’t come to me that night. I missed her but I was glad. I had been turned on physically most of the time. That had gone unrelieved but now I just was exhausted. Even so I tossed and turned finding sleep hard to come by. I was thirsty so thirsty with all the salty body fluids I’d managed to drink. My tongue felt cottony, bigger than usual. I longed for just one cool clear drink of water but that, I wouldn’t get until morning, I knew.
Somehow I was becoming more and more interested in females. Even with those that had used me, they just seemed both softer and rougher. I found them more interesting and intriguing. I had to wonder if I were becoming a lesbian. It would only make sense in a way but even though Ian had betrayed me, I still longed to go back to him. I was desperate for that to happen. That night I dreamed of The Lady though, and not my former love, Ian.
It surprised me at first to dream of her. I was back in my room at Ian’s. I walked over to him to hug him but when he turned it was The Lady. To see my lover turn and not be Ian, or any man, but The Lady shocked me but she smiled tenderly at me. Her smile warmed me the way his had and it gave me hope. With her eyes alone, she drew me closer to her.
I licked her shoes clean again for her and this time I wanted to. This time the grit and dirt didn’t bother me as much but merely confirmed my place in the world. The sharp toes of her boots turned into a hard cock in my mouth. It was soothing to me to be able to suck on that. From it I got as much clear, sweet water as I could ever want. I looked up into her eyes reverently. She was my light. She would rescue me.
Only she didn’t. Not in the dream and not in real life. No, my Lady was as harsh and demanding as she was elegant and warm. I wanted to touch her but didn’t dare because I didn’t have her permission. She did touch me though. The pain she gave me in my dream was better and sharper than any Ian or anyone else had caused me and it was pure, clean pain that she inflicted. I begged her for it over and over. She fed me that pain as if she were feeding a starving child. Each lash was measured and slow so I could absorb it and not choke on it.
He’d been so uncomfortable doing such things but she had no hesitation, in fact, she, it seemed, reveled in it. My pain wasn’t just my pleasure but hers as well. It worked for me because with her I felt cared for, not like with the rest of the people who’d used me since I’d been thrown back into this place of degrading demands. I cried tears that signaled a soothing let down of fear and acceptance of somehow coming home.
As she worked me over with her tools, things I couldn’t see but could only feel. I continued to suckle at that pain and pleasure there. I knew she felt my agreement to be used by her clearly. I knew it pleased her greatly. I felt my body burst into a pure light made extreme sensations under her hands. In my dream I came over and over until it continued too long and I thought it would all kill me. I smiled at the idea of death this way and then, I was thrown out of my dream back into my present. I woke up trembling and gasping for air.
I cried quietly so as not to wake anyone else or get their notice. I was afraid of everyone here, except her and who knew what she was really like? My dreams were certainly not a reliable indicator. I wanted to go to her. I longed to beg her to let me be hers. That wasn’t possible but I ached to do it. I wanted to be somebody’s. Not owned by some group but by one person who cared about me. I was confused and so very wet. My body was buzzing and twitching with relief and exhaustion.
I felt as if I had already done a good full days work but it was morning, just the beginning of my day. My body had once again enjoyed itself but my heart and mind were confused and hurting. I heaved great sobs into my thin pillow muffling as much as I could, holding back until my head ached. My throat felt as if it were both swollen and cut by glass inside.
Somewhere in those moments, a hard kernel of truth as I saw it then, formed. I decided I should rebel. I should find out what, if anything, they would do about it. I was afraid. I wanted to be a good girl but here, well, there was no being good here. There was only being bad.
What could happen? Would it matter at all? It was difficult to conceive of anything that would make a difference to me in this hell I was consigned to, except someone who cared about me. Maybe unconsciously I hoped for that person to be called when I was bad. I was so hungry for that person, for her. She was the closest one I’d seen here so far to someone that might care about me here. Perhaps if I’d been in better shape or thinking more clearly I would have done things differently but that wasn’t the case.
The “Private Use” Room
There were many private use rooms in this place. I gathered this because as I was wheeled still bound, into one small cubicle-like room, I could see other identical doors leading to what I imagined was more rooms like the one I was put in. I could hear what was happening behind the doors there as we went past. There were grunts, screams, panting and other sounds that could be mistaken for little else than sex. Only to me this wasn’t really sex.
No, it was something less than sex and yet more too. I didn’t have a word in mind for what this was. To me sex should be joyful. It should be because two people involved want it. Though it would quite possibly sound the same, I knew what was going on wasn’t because two people shared love or desire. No, only one person had to have desire and love wasn’t to be part of it at all. Being wheeled from the First Night room through the corridors was like being a rat in a maze only I was the rat. I was tied down unable to look for the way out or cheese or even the water bottle.
I was taken to what I eventually gathered was a one on one room. In that room, those that wished too could fuck me or torment me. They could do just about anything. I understood a trainer would be monitoring the room there was a huge window that I could not see out of, in one wall but at which I figured others could observe, as well as a smaller piece of glass in the door. I guessed that the trainer would only step in under certain circumstances. I wasn’t told this but it felt logical to me. If I didn’t do what they wanted I was sure a handler would come in. I wondered though, what punishment they could possibly come up with that could be as bad as what was already going on?
I thought about the time I’d had with Ian when I had felt cherished and used so well. That was very different from what I was feeling here. I wondered if I could ever truly enjoy sex with a man again. I felt dirty and used, but not in a good way, not like I had with Ian. This whole thing sickened me until felt I might vomit and yet, my body responded eagerly. I began to wonder just what they put in the water here? Why did they ration it and food out the way they did? I suspected I must be drugged in some way. Perhaps that was why I hadn’t fought them off yet. It could be the drugs that kept me from fighting them, that or cowardice. My body thought it was enjoying being fucked, being used and sucking but really, my mind felt disgusted. My heart sank deeper into this hell that was not my life.
The trainers did come in if something was attempted that was against the rules or for more then they’d paid for. The latter was far more common. The thin illusion of privacy made these people try to get more than they’d contracted for. I wasn’t privy to the agreements here. I’m glad I wasn’t. I think it would have turned my stomach even more. I was tied down, likely drugged and there was little I could do to enforce any contracts or rules. I hated the trainers for letting it all happen. I hated the men and those few women who used me like a piece of meat, even as my body flowed and tingled with clear arousal.
I wasn’t supposed to object to anything. I was supposed to act as if I enjoyed it all but the handlers did step in from time to time angry about some breech of the client. Sometimes too they would take this time to tell me to do something better or with more enthusiasm. I hated feeling I had let them down. Even though I also felt no one should be required to do as they expected of me.
The night seemed to go on and on. Ladies, I understand that men think many of us just lie there or stare at the ceiling. While I certainly could stare at the ceiling in this case, I wasn’t allowed to just lie there. As I said, I was supposed to act like this was the most exciting, touch, fuck or pinch ever. If I wasn’t performing well, I was told about it in no uncertain terms and nudged back into the “right” frame of mind.
I was however, often bored out of my mind. I wondered when this one would finally get his or her rocks off and get off of me. I wondered when the night would finally be over. If it didn’t hurt at least a little or if no special force was used I found myself feeling just bored and tired even if my body was creaming for them. I know that sounds wrong. It was something new for me to discover and I didn’t welcome this new piece of the puzzle that was my sexuality. Sometimes I couldn’t help it, my mind just coasted. In those times my body took over and I actually found myself enjoying things a little more when my mind numb. Then when I mentally jerked back into myself I was appalled and shocked.
Honestly too, anyone who didn’t want me to suck them off kind of upset me. This was one of the few things I was allowed to “eat.” I wanted what I could have. I wasn’t allowed to tell them that though. I was just to accept and act thrilled at whatever they had in mind to do with my body.
My body stayed in this place of high arousal all night, but I never came. It was frustrating. I wasn’t even trying to come really, not with them. The constant pace of the fire in my nerves was exhausting. I wanted to cry. I wanted Ian to come love me and put me back together. I wanted my Lady to show up, tuck me into a blanket and make it all better. I wanted someone to care.
It was my body but it wasn’t. My body had become a stranger to me. It was a conveyance for others, a living-breathing thing to use anyway they wanted and would pay for. My captors didn’t care about me but only about the business of using me.
It was mostly a parade of cocks that night. Very few women were interested in me it seemed. I began to find the mostly slight, differences in penises mildly interesting. I sort of made that my focus as the time dragged on. You do what you can to distract yourself.
This one is wider, harder to get my lips around. This one is longer hitting my cervix painfully; those were the kind of comparisons I was making. Most were, thankfully relatively clean, but some were not and some were disgusting with such a build up of almost cheesy consistency that I had a hard time not throwing up when forced to suck or clean them.
Of course this wasn’t about my pleasure at all. Surprisingly the three uncut cocks I saw were overall cleaner and even finished quicker. They seemed to be more sensitive to my mouth or any other places they found. This was my first experience with uncircumcised penises. I found them really sort of a novelty. They were a break of sorts in the monotonous parade of cocks. I wondered what I could do to someone that was tied up, intact and so sensitive. Those thoughts allowed me to give those three men genuine smiles.
What was I becoming I asked myself? I didn’t like this. I didn’t like being treated like a thing even if my body did enjoy it. I didn’t know if that was really how my body felt of if I were being drugged. I couldn’t trust my body. I didn’t even trust my mind anymore, now that I was thinking of tying up someone else. I didn’t know what was happening or really, even who I was anymore.
The night went on and on until fatigue coated every part of me along with a good deal of body fluids wasted by those men or secreted by me. After that room, I was sure I’d never want to have sex with a man again. I was so sore. I’d been used too much and too roughly. My friend didn’t come to me that night. I missed her but I was glad. I had been turned on physically most of the time. That had gone unrelieved but now I just was exhausted. Even so I tossed and turned finding sleep hard to come by. I was thirsty so thirsty with all the salty body fluids I’d managed to drink. My tongue felt cottony, bigger than usual. I longed for just one cool clear drink of water but that, I wouldn’t get until morning, I knew.
Somehow I was becoming more and more interested in females. Even with those that had used me, they just seemed both softer and rougher. I found them more interesting and intriguing. I had to wonder if I were becoming a lesbian. It would only make sense in a way but even though Ian had betrayed me, I still longed to go back to him. I was desperate for that to happen. That night I dreamed of The Lady though, and not my former love, Ian.
It surprised me at first to dream of her. I was back in my room at Ian’s. I walked over to him to hug him but when he turned it was The Lady. To see my lover turn and not be Ian, or any man, but The Lady shocked me but she smiled tenderly at me. Her smile warmed me the way his had and it gave me hope. With her eyes alone, she drew me closer to her.
I licked her shoes clean again for her and this time I wanted to. This time the grit and dirt didn’t bother me as much but merely confirmed my place in the world. The sharp toes of her boots turned into a hard cock in my mouth. It was soothing to me to be able to suck on that. From it I got as much clear, sweet water as I could ever want. I looked up into her eyes reverently. She was my light. She would rescue me.
Only she didn’t. Not in the dream and not in real life. No, my Lady was as harsh and demanding as she was elegant and warm. I wanted to touch her but didn’t dare because I didn’t have her permission. She did touch me though. The pain she gave me in my dream was better and sharper than any Ian or anyone else had caused me and it was pure, clean pain that she inflicted. I begged her for it over and over. She fed me that pain as if she were feeding a starving child. Each lash was measured and slow so I could absorb it and not choke on it.
He’d been so uncomfortable doing such things but she had no hesitation, in fact, she, it seemed, reveled in it. My pain wasn’t just my pleasure but hers as well. It worked for me because with her I felt cared for, not like with the rest of the people who’d used me since I’d been thrown back into this place of degrading demands. I cried tears that signaled a soothing let down of fear and acceptance of somehow coming home.
As she worked me over with her tools, things I couldn’t see but could only feel. I continued to suckle at that pain and pleasure there. I knew she felt my agreement to be used by her clearly. I knew it pleased her greatly. I felt my body burst into a pure light made extreme sensations under her hands. In my dream I came over and over until it continued too long and I thought it would all kill me. I smiled at the idea of death this way and then, I was thrown out of my dream back into my present. I woke up trembling and gasping for air.
I cried quietly so as not to wake anyone else or get their notice. I was afraid of everyone here, except her and who knew what she was really like? My dreams were certainly not a reliable indicator. I wanted to go to her. I longed to beg her to let me be hers. That wasn’t possible but I ached to do it. I wanted to be somebody’s. Not owned by some group but by one person who cared about me. I was confused and so very wet. My body was buzzing and twitching with relief and exhaustion.
I felt as if I had already done a good full days work but it was morning, just the beginning of my day. My body had once again enjoyed itself but my heart and mind were confused and hurting. I heaved great sobs into my thin pillow muffling as much as I could, holding back until my head ached. My throat felt as if it were both swollen and cut by glass inside.
Somewhere in those moments, a hard kernel of truth as I saw it then, formed. I decided I should rebel. I should find out what, if anything, they would do about it. I was afraid. I wanted to be a good girl but here, well, there was no being good here. There was only being bad.
What could happen? Would it matter at all? It was difficult to conceive of anything that would make a difference to me in this hell I was consigned to, except someone who cared about me. Maybe unconsciously I hoped for that person to be called when I was bad. I was so hungry for that person, for her. She was the closest one I’d seen here so far to someone that might care about me here. Perhaps if I’d been in better shape or thinking more clearly I would have done things differently but that wasn’t the case.
Salvor-Hardon
A kiss is still a kiss
- Joined
- Jun 20, 2004
- Posts
- 15,669
Sorry to be late in reading this.
Even later in responding to it.
I got lost trrying to get from the private use rooms and past Fifi the fuck poodle. I think I took a worng turn.
I so love that this place is so real to read that want to find it or at very least wish it to be so.
Even later in responding to it.
I got lost trrying to get from the private use rooms and past Fifi the fuck poodle. I think I took a worng turn.
I so love that this place is so real to read that want to find it or at very least wish it to be so.
FurryFury
Addict of Sensation
- Joined
- Apr 3, 2005
- Posts
- 29,460
Salvor-Hardon said:Sorry to be late in reading this.
Even later in responding to it.
I got lost trrying to get from the private use rooms and past Fifi the fuck poodle. I think I took a worng turn.
I so love that this place is so real to read that want to find it or at very least wish it to be so.
LOL! You got lost!
It's posts like yours that keep me writing at all.
*hugs*
Fury
Just finished reading 'The “Private Use” Room' and liked it quite a bit.
But have few crits too, feel free to ignore them tho because im not really good in literature and english isnt my 1st language.
Being wheeled from the First Night room through the corridors was like being a rat in a maze only I was the rat.
Here you say the same thing twice in a single sentence, the bold part could be dropped and it would read more natural.
I also noticed other repeations but they were much more subtle.
I wondered when this one would finally get his or her rocks off and get off of me.
Bold part could be replaced by their, pick-the-right-word breaks the sentence up and wont let it flow in its true glory. Leave that kind of stuff for legal documents
I thought about the time I’d had with Ian when I had felt cherished and used so well. That was very different from what I was feeling here. I wondered if I could ever truly enjoy sex with a man again. I felt dirty and used, but not in a good way, not like I had with Ian. This whole thing sickened me until felt I might vomit and yet, my body responded eagerly. I began to wonder just what they put in the water here? Why did they ration it and food out the way they did? I suspected I must be drugged in some way. Perhaps that was why I hadn’t fought them off yet. It could be the drugs that kept me from fighting them, that or cowardice. My body thought it was enjoying being fucked, being used and sucking but really, my mind felt disgusted. My heart sank deeper into this hell that was not my life.
This paragraph impressed my very much, except for the bold part that went slightly down hill. You could actually leave the bold part out alltogether and remove the thats before drugs in the following sentence.
I hope i didnt start on the wrong foot here, that being my first post and all
But have few crits too, feel free to ignore them tho because im not really good in literature and english isnt my 1st language.
Being wheeled from the First Night room through the corridors was like being a rat in a maze only I was the rat.
Here you say the same thing twice in a single sentence, the bold part could be dropped and it would read more natural.
I also noticed other repeations but they were much more subtle.
I wondered when this one would finally get his or her rocks off and get off of me.
Bold part could be replaced by their, pick-the-right-word breaks the sentence up and wont let it flow in its true glory. Leave that kind of stuff for legal documents
I thought about the time I’d had with Ian when I had felt cherished and used so well. That was very different from what I was feeling here. I wondered if I could ever truly enjoy sex with a man again. I felt dirty and used, but not in a good way, not like I had with Ian. This whole thing sickened me until felt I might vomit and yet, my body responded eagerly. I began to wonder just what they put in the water here? Why did they ration it and food out the way they did? I suspected I must be drugged in some way. Perhaps that was why I hadn’t fought them off yet. It could be the drugs that kept me from fighting them, that or cowardice. My body thought it was enjoying being fucked, being used and sucking but really, my mind felt disgusted. My heart sank deeper into this hell that was not my life.
This paragraph impressed my very much, except for the bold part that went slightly down hill. You could actually leave the bold part out alltogether and remove the thats before drugs in the following sentence.
I hope i didnt start on the wrong foot here, that being my first post and all
FurryFury
Addict of Sensation
- Joined
- Apr 3, 2005
- Posts
- 29,460
Toomas said:Just finished reading 'The “Private Use” Room' and liked it quite a bit.
But have few crits too, feel free to ignore them tho because im not really good in literature and english isnt my 1st language.
Being wheeled from the First Night room through the corridors was like being a rat in a maze only I was the rat.
Here you say the same thing twice in a single sentence, the bold part could be dropped and it would read more natural.
I also noticed other repeations but they were much more subtle.
I wondered when this one would finally get his or her rocks off and get off of me.
Bold part could be replaced by their, pick-the-right-word breaks the sentence up and wont let it flow in its true glory. Leave that kind of stuff for legal documents
I thought about the time I’d had with Ian when I had felt cherished and used so well. That was very different from what I was feeling here. I wondered if I could ever truly enjoy sex with a man again. I felt dirty and used, but not in a good way, not like I had with Ian. This whole thing sickened me until felt I might vomit and yet, my body responded eagerly. I began to wonder just what they put in the water here? Why did they ration it and food out the way they did? I suspected I must be drugged in some way. Perhaps that was why I hadn’t fought them off yet. It could be the drugs that kept me from fighting them, that or cowardice. My body thought it was enjoying being fucked, being used and sucking but really, my mind felt disgusted. My heart sank deeper into this hell that was not my life.
This paragraph impressed my very much, except for the bold part that went slightly down hill. You could actually leave the bold part out alltogether and remove the thats before drugs in the following sentence.
I hope i didnt start on the wrong foot here, that being my first post and all
I'm glad you enjoyed The Private Use Room and I will take your corrections under advisement.
I hope you will read some of the other chapters too.
Thank you,
Fury
