Leaderboard

Today I was doing a little spring cleaning, digging into nooks and crannies to root out the winter cobwebs. This is an old house my papaw built in 1936 and it’s impossible to keep it dusted, so I don’t get dust mice - I get dust mammoths. As I was clearing off a bookshelf to wipe away the skunge, I came across a VHS cassette - that’s a video tape, for all you young’uns. It had no label on it and I hadn’t the first idea what was on it, or remembered putting it there. It had to have been years ago. But as it happened, I had also just dusted off an old VHS player in an unused bedroom, so I decided to satisfy my curiosity, and see if a) the thing still played, and if so, b) what had bee recorded on it. It played. For the next half-hour, I sat in astonishment and relived the day a Dominant bound me to a Saint Andrew’s Cross in my cellar and systematically cut off all my clothes with his knife while he sent pictures out to other men vis his cell phone. It was fascinating, because it was the very first time I had ever encountered poppers, and he poppered me up pretty liberally, as I now realize. The video camera had been set up to record the whole process. I watched myself gradually become his object of debauchery, slowly, as he wore stripped away my clothes, my thinking ability, and my dignity. He remained fully clothed the whole time. From time to time he would run the point of his knife against my skin, just to suggest my vulnerability to him. He cut my clothes of in sections at a time, stopping to take pictures and send them, and tell me about the kind of men who would see them. He would address his audience from time to time, talking about me - I don’t know whether there were men listening in real time, or whether he was narrating for video. He finally removed the last shred of cloth from my groin and exposed my penis, showed it to the camera at various angles. Then the advanced on me and began running his hands over me, and kissing my open mouth long and deeply because he could. And then, he turned off the camera. Because he had finished with his scene. He hadn’t fucked me, or jacked me off in bondage, or inserted anything into my ass, or asked for a blowjob - that was his scene. I have the tape because it was made with a camera belonging to me - he didn’t take it with him. I have no idea what kind of images or footage ended up on his phone, or who might have seen me get used that way, get forced to admit on camera that I wanted a man to strip me naked and use me - or whether no one saw it at all and he was just play-acting for his scene. But I saw it. And watching that tape was like being bound to that cross all over again. It’s called VHS for a reason, I guess…Very Hot Scene.

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.