My Confessions

Then, deliberately, she turned up the heat. Her glistening pink tongue slipped out, slow and calculated, tracing her lower lip with a wet, languid glide. She let it linger, the pink tip writhing seductively, before dragging it across her upper lip, leaving them slick and parted.

Now, her mouth opened wider, a soft, hungry O, lips curling as if she summoned forth the image of kneeling between his thighs, gazing up at him with those same teasing eyes.
She tilted her head, just so, and let her tongue flick out again—quick, darting, mimicking the way she’d lap temptingly at the head of his swollen cock, tasting the precum she imagined leaking from him, thick and salty, oozing languidly onto her eager, inviting tongue.

Her breath hitched audibly, a low moan humming in her throat, and she held his gaze—daring him to picture it, to picture her in fantasy, her mouth stretched around him, sucking him deep while his twitching shaft pulsed against her lips. She emoted every nuance of her explicit message to him through body language and facial gestures, reveling in the power she had over his pleasure to make him weak in the knees and wanting.

His knuckles blanched, his chest heaving, and she pressed ahead further. Her skirt rode higher as she shifted, thighs parting wide now, the thong a sodden scrap clinging to her swollen sex hole—every fold, every wet gleam visible through the lace. She let him feast on it, her tongue circling her lips once more, slow and obscene, a promise of what she’d do if she had him in her grasp.

Then, as the tram jolted to his stop, she seized her courage and the moment. Rising, she splayed her legs for one final, brazen flash—lace framing her dripping slit, a slut’s invitation—before snapping them shut. As he stood, she pressed close, her body grazing his in the crowd.

Her hand darted beneath her skirt, fingers ripping the Velcro free. The thong fell away, hot and drenched, her musky scent—raw, primal, intoxicating—flooding the air as she pressed it into his palm. Her fingertips brushed his, lingering, and she felt his tremble, the fabric sodden with her juices soaking into his skin.
 
Her mission completed, she slipped away, vanishing into the crush of strangers, her pulse roaring. No backward glance, but she knew, she could feel him so clearly—at the first opportunity he’d clutch her wet, still warm thong against his nose and mouth, her sensuous essence marking his flesh, and rush home.

Then, once there, his quivering cock straining, her indescribably delicious scent choking him, he would fuck his cock into his fist to the memory of her parted lips, her teasing tongue, her slut hole bared and dripping. She’d crafted those panties, and this scene, especially for this, a trophy to unravel him again. She strode off, a slut exalted, already craving the next ride, the next surrender.
 
I'll bring the dark and twisted words and perverse imagery. You keep doing what you do so well, becoming the best slut you can be. It's a pleasure inspiring you to rise in your nascent power.
 
hollywinstead said:
Assignment: Make an audio recording of yourself masturbating and coming.

To say I was reluctant at first would be an understatement. This is "audio porn", I thought, this would be degrading and humiliating. My instructions had stated, "The purpose of this is designed to both test your commitment and to remind you of your status. Sending the recording will further condition your way of thinking and train your perceptions". I was not willing to do this, but despite that, deep down I knew I eventually would, nothing would be achieved by refusing. And then in a moment of clarity I realised, this is something a slut would do, so my compliance became inevitable. As part of the assignment I was also required to write about the experience,

"How did you feel during the recording?"
At first I felt ashamed, performing like this for the recording because I wanted to be a slut, this was the level of debasement I was willing to be reduced to, just to achieve my perverted needs. But of course, I soon forgot about the recording and became immersed in the sensations I was provoking with my vibrator.

"How did it feel listening back to yourself?"
I felt flustered and a little disconcerted hearing the sounds I make when I come. But there was a moment of revelation, when I heard my voice pitch deepen slightly, I knew that was the moment I began to climax. I didn't hate hearing myself and I became more accepting of the process, more open to further training.

"How did it feel sending the recording?"
It was like a declaration I was sending, affirming my wanton status by recording it in the first place, then having the brazeness to share it with others. It was an audible confirmation that I was a slut freely advertising what I would do to let men know that I was a slut. And I felt that this was my newly assigned function. I accept and remain focused on my destination.
Click to expand...
Here's a deliciously wicked little thought: imagine being assigned to make the most intense part of that audio clip, your impending climax and the aftermath, as your ringtone, with volume up... never knowing when it might play as a call came in.
 
I won't be posting one of my assignments today. Instead I've included some messages sent to me by my trainer. Sometimes I'm overwhelmed or have moments of insecurity and my trainer continues to reassure and encourage me. Here are some of the things he's written to me in those moments when my motivation or confidence needs some help.

"I want you to remember all the daring thing you have done, all the cocks you have taken, all the cum you have had emptied in yourself and on yourself. I want you to look at those times and change any ideas you had about them and make them all good memories to expand on what and who you are becoming."

"I want to know the joys you experience as you're learning all about who you really are."

I've also taken a lot of incentive from the messages left by the readers who've posted here. I appreciate everyone who's left a message and what they've said, it gives me a sense of validation and verifies my purpose.
 
Assignment: "What was it that first provoked you to want this? Something you read or saw, an incident, a person, a place? What was the trigger?"

To be perfectly clear, this one is NOT a fantasy. This is what happened.

It was less than a year ago when I was invited to a friend's birthday celebration at a pub. I was headed to the front door at the same time as a man in a business suit approached. I can't deny I was impressed by his looks and my gaze may have lingered. He opened the door for me and I noticed he didn't mind being obvious as he looked me up and down. I think I may have blushed. He asked me, "What brings you here tonight?", I explained and he told me he had a business dinner. "Maybe we can have a drink together later?", he asked. "Maybe", I said.

Twice during the evening I ran into him. Once when I went up to the bar, the second time after I'd been to the bathroom. He made a point of talking to me both times, just small talk, but I felt he was toying with me. In hindsight I wondered had he been watching me.

The next time I saw him he was openly watching me. He was standing a short distance from our table, I don't know how long he'd been there before I noticed him. When I did he curled his index finger at me indicating I should come over. I pretended to answer my phone at the table, then apologised and excused myself to take the call outside. I don't know what was going through my mind or why I went over to him so willingly. When he saw me walking towards him he turned and walked towards the back entrance to the pub. I followed. He stopped at the back door, turned and waited for me and took my hand. He led me outside, there were rubbish bins there, a path leading to the car park and a shed. He took me straight to the shed without saying anything. Had he scoped this out before?

The shed was not locked and he led me in closing the door behind us. I noticed the dry, musty smell and stacks of boxes with supplies, spare chairs and some tools. And then his lips were on mine, kissing me hard, his tongue opening my mouth. I responded, willingly. He pushed me back against the now closed door and coaxed my hand down to feel him growing hard. I was so aroused. He pulled away, reached into his pocket and held up a condom and grinned at me. I was aware that I continued stroking his cock through his trousers. I briefly looked around wondering where . . . "Lean over the boxes, lift up your skirt and pull down your knickers". I didn't hesitate nor did I put up any resistance, my mind was reeling knowing what was about to happen. His hand groped between my legs, I groaned both with lust and knowing he was feeling how wet and ready my cunt was. And then he was fucking me. This man whose name I didn't know, who I'd only spoken with so briefly, was now inside me. I lost track of time, I was revelling in the sensations of what was happening and how I was letting myself be treated. Then I was jolted back to reality as he firmed his grip on my waist, pulling me back onto him, his cock thrusting deeper, a shudder ran through me and I was cumming. He could feel my body react to him, murmured something about how he could "always spot the slut", and then he plunged into me, shaking my body on his cock as he came.

And then he was finished with me.

We both straightened our clothes back into place. I ran my fingers through my tousled hair, he leaned into me, kissed my cheek and said "You were great". And then he was gone. I was left there alone still feeling my cunt tingle and my juices drying on the inside of my thighs.

I soon returned to the people I was there with. I was so scared someone would notice something, a tell tale look in my eyes, a flush to my face or notice the musky smell of sex emanating from between my legs. But soon we were all singing "Happy Birthday" to the birthday girl and I was internally trying to comprehend what had happened. I knew I'd behaved like a slut, I'd let him use me that way, but I didn't yet know how this was about to change me forever.

The next day I masturbated to the memory of being fucked in a shed by a strange man.
I came very hard.
 
hollywinstead said:
Assignment: "What was it that first provoked you to want this? Something you read or saw, an incident, a person, a place? What was the trigger?"

To be perfectly clear, this one is NOT a fantasy. This is what happened.

It was less than a year ago when I was invited to a friend's birthday celebration at a pub. I was headed to the front door at the same time as a man in a business suit approached. I can't deny I was impressed by his looks and my gaze may have lingered. He opened the door for me and I noticed he didn't mind being obvious as he looked me up and down. I think I may have blushed. He asked me, "What brings you here tonight?", I explained and he told me he had a business dinner. "Maybe we can have a drink together later?", he asked. "Maybe", I said.

Twice during the evening I ran into him. Once when I went up to the bar, the second time after I'd been to the bathroom. He made a point of talking to me both times, just small talk, but I felt he was toying with me. In hindsight I wondered had he been watching me.

The next time I saw him he was openly watching me. He was standing a short distance from our table, I don't know how long he'd been there before I noticed him. When I did he curled his index finger at me indicating I should come over. I pretended to answer my phone at the table, then apologised and excused myself to take the call outside. I don't know what was going through my mind or why I went over to him so willingly. When he saw me walking towards him he turned and walked towards the back entrance to the pub. I followed. He stopped at the back door, turned and waited for me and took my hand. He led me outside, there were rubbish bins there, a path leading to the car park and a shed. He took me straight to the shed without saying anything. Had he scoped this out before?

The shed was not locked and he led me in closing the door behind us. I noticed the dry, musty smell and stacks of boxes with supplies, spare chairs and some tools. And then his lips were on mine, kissing me hard, his tongue opening my mouth. I responded, willingly. He pushed me back against the now closed door and coaxed my hand down to feel him growing hard. I was so aroused. He pulled away, reached into his pocket and held up a condom and grinned at me. I was aware that I continued stroking his cock through his trousers. I briefly looked around wondering where . . . "Lean over the boxes, lift up your skirt and pull down your knickers". I didn't hesitate nor did I put up any resistance, my mind was reeling knowing what was about to happen. His hand groped between my legs, I groaned both with lust and knowing he was feeling how wet and ready my cunt was. And then he was fucking me. This man whose name I didn't know, who I'd only spoken with so briefly, was now inside me. I lost track of time, I was revelling in the sensations of what was happening and how I was letting myself be treated. Then I was jolted back to reality as he firmed his grip on my waist, pulling me back onto him, his cock thrusting deeper, a shudder ran through me and I was cumming. He could feel my body react to him, murmured something about how he could "always spot the slut", and then he plunged into me, shaking my body on his cock as he came.

And then he was finished with me.

We both straightened our clothes back into place. I ran my fingers through my tousled hair, he leaned into me, kissed my cheek and said "You were great". And then he was gone. I was left there alone still feeling my cunt tingle and my juices drying on the inside of my thighs.

I soon returned to the people I was there with. I was so scared someone would notice something, a tell tale look in my eyes, a flush to my face or notice the musky smell of sex emanating from between my legs. But soon we were all singing "Happy Birthday" to the birthday girl and I was internally trying to comprehend what had happened. I knew I'd behaved like a slut, I'd let him use me that way, but I didn't yet know how this was about to change me forever.

The next day I masturbated to the memory of being fucked in a shed by a strange man.
I came very hard.
Click to expand...
That's a powerful memory. Thank you for sharing that. If you don't mind, I'd like to again take a spark of inspiration from you and incorporate elements of it into the story I'm writing. Confessions like yours are a muse and very much what I look for to add realism to my characters. Your shared Confessions are are at once brave and unabashedly candid. I hope you continue in your quest and write more.
 
hollywinstead said:
Assignment: "What was it that first provoked you to want this? Something you read or saw, an incident, a person, a place? What was the trigger?"

To be perfectly clear, this one is NOT a fantasy. This is what happened.

It was less than a year ago when I was invited to a friend's birthday celebration at a pub. I was headed to the front door at the same time as a man in a business suit approached. I can't deny I was impressed by his looks and my gaze may have lingered. He opened the door for me and I noticed he didn't mind being obvious as he looked me up and down. I think I may have blushed. He asked me, "What brings you here tonight?", I explained and he told me he had a business dinner. "Maybe we can have a drink together later?", he asked. "Maybe", I said.

Twice during the evening I ran into him. Once when I went up to the bar, the second time after I'd been to the bathroom. He made a point of talking to me both times, just small talk, but I felt he was toying with me. In hindsight I wondered had he been watching me.

The next time I saw him he was openly watching me. He was standing a short distance from our table, I don't know how long he'd been there before I noticed him. When I did he curled his index finger at me indicating I should come over. I pretended to answer my phone at the table, then apologised and excused myself to take the call outside. I don't know what was going through my mind or why I went over to him so willingly. When he saw me walking towards him he turned and walked towards the back entrance to the pub. I followed. He stopped at the back door, turned and waited for me and took my hand. He led me outside, there were rubbish bins there, a path leading to the car park and a shed. He took me straight to the shed without saying anything. Had he scoped this out before?

The shed was not locked and he led me in closing the door behind us. I noticed the dry, musty smell and stacks of boxes with supplies, spare chairs and some tools. And then his lips were on mine, kissing me hard, his tongue opening my mouth. I responded, willingly. He pushed me back against the now closed door and coaxed my hand down to feel him growing hard. I was so aroused. He pulled away, reached into his pocket and held up a condom and grinned at me. I was aware that I continued stroking his cock through his trousers. I briefly looked around wondering where . . . "Lean over the boxes, lift up your skirt and pull down your knickers". I didn't hesitate nor did I put up any resistance, my mind was reeling knowing what was about to happen. His hand groped between my legs, I groaned both with lust and knowing he was feeling how wet and ready my cunt was. And then he was fucking me. This man whose name I didn't know, who I'd only spoken with so briefly, was now inside me. I lost track of time, I was revelling in the sensations of what was happening and how I was letting myself be treated. Then I was jolted back to reality as he firmed his grip on my waist, pulling me back onto him, his cock thrusting deeper, a shudder ran through me and I was cumming. He could feel my body react to him, murmured something about how he could "always spot the slut", and then he plunged into me, shaking my body on his cock as he came.

And then he was finished with me.

We both straightened our clothes back into place. I ran my fingers through my tousled hair, he leaned into me, kissed my cheek and said "You were great". And then he was gone. I was left there alone still feeling my cunt tingle and my juices drying on the inside of my thighs.

I soon returned to the people I was there with. I was so scared someone would notice something, a tell tale look in my eyes, a flush to my face or notice the musky smell of sex emanating from between my legs. But soon we were all singing "Happy Birthday" to the birthday girl and I was internally trying to comprehend what had happened. I knew I'd behaved like a slut, I'd let him use me that way, but I didn't yet know how this was about to change me forever.

The next day I masturbated to the memory of being fucked in a shed by a strange man.
I came very hard.
Click to expand...
Your confessions are amazing, hang on every word of them, love seeing that made a new post, you sound like an amazing slut, the perfect little sub
 
hollywinstead said:
Assignment: "What was it that first provoked you to want this? Something you read or saw, an incident, a person, a place? What was the trigger?"

To be perfectly clear, this one is NOT a fantasy. This is what happened.

It was less than a year ago when I was invited to a friend's birthday celebration at a pub. I was headed to the front door at the same time as a man in a business suit approached. I can't deny I was impressed by his looks and my gaze may have lingered. He opened the door for me and I noticed he didn't mind being obvious as he looked me up and down. I think I may have blushed. He asked me, "What brings you here tonight?", I explained and he told me he had a business dinner. "Maybe we can have a drink together later?", he asked. "Maybe", I said.

Twice during the evening I ran into him. Once when I went up to the bar, the second time after I'd been to the bathroom. He made a point of talking to me both times, just small talk, but I felt he was toying with me. In hindsight I wondered had he been watching me.

The next time I saw him he was openly watching me. He was standing a short distance from our table, I don't know how long he'd been there before I noticed him. When I did he curled his index finger at me indicating I should come over. I pretended to answer my phone at the table, then apologised and excused myself to take the call outside. I don't know what was going through my mind or why I went over to him so willingly. When he saw me walking towards him he turned and walked towards the back entrance to the pub. I followed. He stopped at the back door, turned and waited for me and took my hand. He led me outside, there were rubbish bins there, a path leading to the car park and a shed. He took me straight to the shed without saying anything. Had he scoped this out before?

The shed was not locked and he led me in closing the door behind us. I noticed the dry, musty smell and stacks of boxes with supplies, spare chairs and some tools. And then his lips were on mine, kissing me hard, his tongue opening my mouth. I responded, willingly. He pushed me back against the now closed door and coaxed my hand down to feel him growing hard. I was so aroused. He pulled away, reached into his pocket and held up a condom and grinned at me. I was aware that I continued stroking his cock through his trousers. I briefly looked around wondering where . . . "Lean over the boxes, lift up your skirt and pull down your knickers". I didn't hesitate nor did I put up any resistance, my mind was reeling knowing what was about to happen. His hand groped between my legs, I groaned both with lust and knowing he was feeling how wet and ready my cunt was. And then he was fucking me. This man whose name I didn't know, who I'd only spoken with so briefly, was now inside me. I lost track of time, I was revelling in the sensations of what was happening and how I was letting myself be treated. Then I was jolted back to reality as he firmed his grip on my waist, pulling me back onto him, his cock thrusting deeper, a shudder ran through me and I was cumming. He could feel my body react to him, murmured something about how he could "always spot the slut", and then he plunged into me, shaking my body on his cock as he came.

And then he was finished with me.

We both straightened our clothes back into place. I ran my fingers through my tousled hair, he leaned into me, kissed my cheek and said "You were great". And then he was gone. I was left there alone still feeling my cunt tingle and my juices drying on the inside of my thighs.

I soon returned to the people I was there with. I was so scared someone would notice something, a tell tale look in my eyes, a flush to my face or notice the musky smell of sex emanating from between my legs. But soon we were all singing "Happy Birthday" to the birthday girl and I was internally trying to comprehend what had happened. I knew I'd behaved like a slut, I'd let him use me that way, but I didn't yet know how this was about to change me forever.

The next day I masturbated to the memory of being fucked in a shed by a strange man.
I came very hard.
Click to expand...
WOW that was so hot. You have me so turned on
 
DysArt said:
That's a powerful memory. Thank you for sharing that. If you don't mind, I'd like to again take a spark of inspiration from you and incorporate elements of it into the story I'm writing. Confessions like yours are a muse . . .
Click to expand...
Powerful and significant, yes. You are more than welcome to take inspiration, I never imagined my confessions would serve as a muse. I'd love to read your completed story. Thank you.
 
hollywinstead said:
Powerful and significant, yes. You are more than welcome to take inspiration, I never imagined my confessions would serve as a muse. I'd love to read your completed story. Thank you.
Click to expand...
Thank you. I will be posting that completed story on here as well as Literotica and Wattpad once it's completed. I will of course continue to send you drafts if you'd be willing and have the time to offer comments. Your input is very much appreciated as you inspired the story with your candor and bold willingness to pursue your path.
 
Assignment: What is your idea of being a slut? What do you wish to get out of this? How do you want to be viewed as a slut?

Do you want to be that innocent girl, dressed sweetly, that a guy could see taking home to meet the parents and have a relationship with. But once the doors are closed she is on her knees begging to have a cock in her mouth.

Do you want to be the slut who openly flaunts her complete availability for all cocks to drain in her and on her. And everyone knows.

Or maybe the slut who during the day is very detailed and focused on her studies and her job but at night is a desperate cock sucking creature, able to turn it on and off.

If I am to truly be acknowledged and consequently behave like a slut, I would do so with no ulterior motives. I'm not putting myself out there for any other purposes, it's not a matter of "if you do this, I'll do that" etc., no trades. My conditions are unconditional. I expect no reciprocation, and what that does is validate me. Just being used, and having my cunt filled with cock and come is my affirmation.

And what do I want to get from this? I thought about this long and hard. And I kept coming back to this: I imagine there will be an immense sense of relief and peace of mind. No more internal moral battles with myself, no more frustrations, no more doubts. My becoming a slut will be the end product of intuitive modifications throughout my training. I want to achieve a sense of contentment that will come as a result of knowing I have become what has always been inside me.

I've never really wanted to be somebody's girlfriend. So that rules out the first "good girl to the world but a slut for him in the bedroom" type.

Part of the second one does appeal to me. But, no, I don't want everyone to know. I want this truth to belong to me and the men in my future who will ensure I'm well used.

So that leaves the third option. And yes, this is what I want to be. Have my day-to-day existence as it is now, and then have the ingrained capabilities to pursue my needs. It's as though I've been deliberately setting up my life to accommodate a life like this. I chose to live by myself, I have a very small circle of friends and I don't like to go out a lot. I've moved away from my family, it's a perfect arrangement. My life makes very few demands on my time.
 
As a friend and who has been privileged to offer words of support, I hold profound respect for your pursuit of complete sexual freedom—unbound by constraint, ownership, or commitment. Your dedication to this journey is truly inspiring, a testament to your strength and authenticity. I admire the clarity with which you define your path. Your journey is a testament to your dedication to realize yourself, and for all of us that witness your progress I wish you happiness, contentment and success.
 
DysArt said:
As a friend and who has been privileged to offer words of support, I hold profound respect for your pursuit of complete sexual freedom—unbound by constraint, ownership, or commitment. Your dedication to this journey is truly inspiring, a testament to your strength and authenticity. I admire the clarity with which you define your path. Your journey is a testament to your dedication to realize yourself, and for all of us that witness your progress I wish you happiness, contentment and success.
Click to expand...
Thank you for taking the time to leave me a message here. Once again your well chosen words are a source that I draw encouragement from, and while I know I don't "need" approval for my choices, it's certainly reassuring and reaffirming that someone else believes my ambitions are achievable. You do seem to have a remarkable understanding of how I want to present myself and how I want to be used.

Are you sure you're not reading my mind?
 
I'm due to post my next confession.

When I received the instructions for the assignment I'll be writing about, I was very nervous and hesitant. Consequently I'm feeling the same nerves creep over me as I'm preparing to post the details of said assignment. I'm still finishing it, I need to be very sure it's ready to include here. I have to be prepared that those who will read it, will know this about me, and just how committed I am to my training and to the eventual outcome I want. So, I need to dig deep and find the confidence to keep updating my confessions here despite the difficulty in admitting some things.

Reassurances are welcome and appreciated.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top