Against my better judgment I broke down and hosted again in Louisville tonight. It wasn’t entirely on my own accord - I had received a text earlier in the week from a man up here who had fucked me last fall and wanted to know when I would be back because he wanted my ass again. In case you haven’t followed my posts, it’s my firm and genuine, honestly-held belief that it is my duty to surrender my body to any man’s use at his request, so this amounted to a summons.

I ended ip paying nearly $20 more for the room than previously - thank you inflation - but I reserved it and arrived ready to serve by 5:30pm on a Friday evening.

The guy did, in fact, show up, an hour and a half later, and in addition to a lengthy fucking, he also raped my cunt very completely with the dildoes he asked me to bring. No complaints.

No further action either, until a 22-year-old visiting from Michigan came by at 1:30am. Very nice fuck, he seemed to enjoy himself greatly. A pleasure to serve him.

Then, a message on BBRTS. From a man saying “be my cumdump”. Yes, I can do that. He wanted a cummy hole and was very emphatic about it, so I got out the devil’s dick I had been saving from where I had been keeping it on ice and deposited it into my cunt. He was going to have to drive nearly half an hour to get to me, so I wanted to make it worth his while. He also wanted poppers, even though I said they kill erections, so I pulled out a bottle of Hardware poppers that, as far as I could tell, were useless - at least they never had any effect on me - and set them on the table.

He arrived, fucked me to loading once, then settled in for a more drawn-out fuck, interspersed with cunt-wrecking by my larger dildo, which he enjoyed repeatedly sinking to the hilt. This went on for a while until at last he picked up speed and came inside me again - and within seconds I heard the door to the room slam and he was gone.

Without a word.

With my smaller dildo and the bottle of poppers.

It’s the first time since I started hosting Tops that I’ve been robbed.

I don’t count the odd half-empty popper bottle that disappears at a bathhouse - sometimes people get confused or absent-minded. This was a theft.

Not that it amounted to much - the poppers were worthless and I was about to retire that dildo anyway; I had literally nearly worn it out ravaging my cunt, and now my cunt has, shall we say, graduated.

But there’s something about the fact that he did it the second after he bred me - he took from me in every way he could. The irony is that had he asked, I would have given him those things, as easily as I gave him access to my sex. Instead, I now feel a little bit violated in both ways. What he did didn’t, as far as I’m concerned, invalidate his right to enjoy my body - he’s a Top, that’s baked in. But it just seemed somehow a little cold-blooded to fuck a guy down, flood him with your seed, and then betray the trust you just enjoyed.

It could have been worse, of course. He could have taken all my dildoes, or stabbed me in the back. I’m not going to get bent out of shape over what went missing, and I’m certainly not going to stop surrendering my body when it’s demanded, but from now on, I can never be that trusting again, and that makes me sad.