The wonderful written word

I love the written word. It's always been more powerful to me than any picture or film. A written fantasy is much more likely to arouse me than anything else. I like to run the story through my mind. Paint it in as I choose. Insert my own characters, make it my own.

And I love to write. Except good writing requires discipline, something I often lack. On any given day I have several potent fantasies in my head. But rarely do I sit down and write them out. I make up excuses. Lack of time, being the main one.

Sometimes writing is effortless. I sit and type and the words flow. More often it's strained, the story I want to write won't come out. The characters are wrong, the sentiment too false, the plot unfeasible. So I appreciate good writing. Creativity, good turn of phrase, interesting plots, complete characters.

And when I'm horny and need release I reach for one of my favorite books or online stories and can get myself off almost immediately.

My current favorite is Fiona Locke's Over the Knee, where Angie experiences anal sex for the first time. Instant orgasm.

Am I submissive?

I struggle with submission. In my fantasy/play life that is. It doesn't feature anywhere in the real world.

Submission turns me on. I love to be told what to do and my pussy reacts accordingly. A simple order will make me wet. And I love to construct detailed fantasies around it, letting them swirl around my head as I pleasure myself.

But I think I love the idea of it more than anything. The idea of giving up complete control. The reality is somewhat different. I find it hard to obey when told to stand or kneel or stay still or wear this or that. The Dom must enforce it. Must punish me for any disobedience. I need to be trained. And a sharp does of pain pain does wonders.

So I can't submit voluntarily. I don't want to submit voluntarily. The turn-on is in the force, being made to do it.

Strangely I'm much more submissive when it comes to sex, without BDSM play. Eager to please, eager to be obedient, eager to have all control taken away from me. I don't quite understand why.

Pollyanna hates receiving oral sex

I hate oral sex. Not giving it, receiving it. At least with men anyway. Maybe I need to try it with another girl. (A whole other story).

I just find it boring. Too soft. Too slow. Too pointless. So many better things to be used than a tongue. Rough fingers, a strong vibrator, a hard cock.

To frustrate me my play partners tie me up with my legs spread wide and force it on making me squirm while I struggle to get off on it. They love to give me what I don't want. That's the paradox of BDSM. I love the things that I don't ask for, love the things that hurt me most.

And then there's the certainly that the gentle tonguing is just a prelude to the hurt and pain to come. A way to heighten my anxiety. That when my guard is down that soft tongue will be changed for a strap and my clit will be whipped. Or hot wax will be dripped on me. Or a hard cock will thrust into me with no warning.

But even in being forced to endure oral sex, there is some pleasure, I do love the forced submission. Just on it's own with no BDSM connotations, I hate it.

My personal epiphany

I used to only see sex as something that was part of being in a relationship with a boy. It was ok, nothing spectacular. I like the closeness and the connection but nothing else.

Didn't really see what the fuss was about. I only felt something if he got rough with me, tweaked my nipples or thrust into me hard. Then I'd get excited. But with most boys I just got bored if went on too long. That was before I realised I was into BDSM and that sex and intimacy with others is rarely about pleasure for me (as I discuss here).

I rarely orgasm during sex or BDSM play, or even after it. It's undeniable that I enjoy it. That it fulfils a powerful need in me, makes me unbelievably and nosily wet. That it takes me increasingly new heights of sensation.

And that is enough for me. To suffer and to experience and to feel. But rarely do I get a release. I don't choose it to be that way, it just is. And realising that and accepting that has been my own personal epiphany.

I don't need to cum during sex or play for it to be great, meaningful or special.

Pollyanna loves sex

I love sex, but only in a certain way. The hard and dirty way. Not for me the gentle, careful intimacy of two lovers connecting.

I want it hard and dirty. I want to be taken. Forced. Abused. Hurt. To be owned.

My orgasmic pleasure is inconsequential. I rarely cum from sex. But I reach heights of ecstasy that are amazing. Heights from which there are no release. I get so turned on and pushed so far that I cannot actually cum. Every nerve ending on fire, screaming for relief.

The best sexual partners for me are those that are selfish. Who take what they want, Ignore what I might like. Fucking me hard and quickly. My face, my pussy, my ass. Whichever hole they want most. Whatever makes me whimper and cry and suffer.

I usually find such partners in the BDSM world. Sometimes they beat me first, with their hands, whips, canes and belts. Sometimes they tie me up, naked and spread open. A plaything to them.

Because that's how I like it. Dirty, painful and hard.