Yesterday I had a threesome with daddy and his friend, lets call him Sam.
I was super nervous. Like, really really scared. I’ve been coming off clonazepam so I overthink things a lot. My sex drive has been super low, which is both frustrating and depressing.
This threesome had been planned for a good few weeks. Five years ago, I would have been so excited that I wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on anything. I love cock. And anything more than one cock is just a dream come true. Multiple cocks ganging up on me is one of my oldest and ultimate fantasies, and that’s exactly what this threesome was going to be.
The day before yesterday, I knew I should have been excited and horny as fuck, and I just wasn’t. It really got me down. It still gets me down. I want to be a whore, I want to fuck and be used. I want all of that and more, so badly. But I don’t have that instinctual lust for it, that drive that you can’t hold back. I knew I would love the day no matter what, but oh god, I miss that build up so badly. It’s like those few seconds just before orgasm, that’s just as good as the orgasm itself. Those few seconds, knowing that your body is about to be electrified in pleasure, thus making those few seconds so goddamn pleasurable in themselves. That’s how I always used to feel a day or two before a good session, and before yesterday, I felt nothing.
Instead, the nervousness without that excitement and pleasure had the full capability to take over. I had nothing to balance it out, to bounce is back against.
Daddy took me into the spare room that he’d set up. He knows I get scared of looking at people so he taped up my eyes, and put my headphones in my ears and taped that all up. At that point I got strangely clingy. My sight and my hearing was gone (which I loveeeeeee, sensory deprivation is the best) but I needed to know that daddy was there. When he was putting my cuffs on, I couldn’t stop touching him with my other hand, with my legs, with anything I could. And it wasn’t gentle, I love you, I’m super excited kinda touches, it was I’m scared as fuck, please don’t leave me kinda touches. If he moved away I remember I’d reach out to try find him. My music wasn’t playing, but my headphones were in so sound was pretty muffled.
He started tying me to the bed, which was nice in a way because I like being restrained, it means I have to let go of everything. But I got really scared. Daddy wasn’t even being mean to me. He was being really nice. I started crying, really crying. I’m still not completely sure why. I think it was because I couldn’t move, I couldn’t see, I couldn’t hear. I was locked in my own mind and that was all I had. I guess I’m terrified of my own mind. Plus, I was already scared because something new was about to happen. I had met Sam a couple of times before, Daddy and I have fucked with him once before, but being on a much lower dose of medication, my mind was much less sedated.
I had had some alcohol, and quite a lot of weed. I was planning to have a couple of clonazepam too, but I’m trying really hard to come off them and I didn’t want to mess anything up. But my thoughts were still running wild in my head.
Lately, I’ve been getting a lot more triggered by sexual things, people talking about rape etc on the internet and TV. I always used to push my past shitty experiences completely away. I used to say “Yes, those things happened, but it’s in the past, I can’t change them, so there’s no point thinking about them. I want to forget them.” But I guess that coming off clonaz, and doing therapy, has kinda forced those memories back into the forefront a bit more, and I know at some point soon I’m going to have to deal with them or they’ll haunt me for the rest of my life.
I don’t know if it was the sex I was scared of, or if it was Sam. I’m so scared of people. So when I meet people, I put up really big walls. This is something I’m definitely working on, though. But in this situation, being tied to the bed, unable to see or hear, I couldn’t put any walls up.
Sam arrived. Daddy said he needed to go downstairs to let Sam in. But I was crying, that kind of terrified cry, balling your eyes out, that you just cant stop. My chest hurt, my heart was pounding. I asked daddy to tell me that everything was going to be okay. He did. He told me it was going to be so much fun, that I was safe, and that I was going to be spoiled. He told me to relax, and try really hard to just give in and enjoy myself. I told him that I needed half a clonaz. He said he would give it to me when he came back up later. He put a blanket over me, shut the door, and left.
So now I was just alone in my head. There was music playing in my ears, which really helped. I don’t know how I would have been if I didn’t have music. Maybe it would have been no different. I don’t know. I don’t know how long I was left there. Maybe 20, or 30 minutes. But I had so many revelations in my head. I pushed and struggled with my thoughts. I’ve never been able to focus on my thoughts so well. It was hard though, because I’d never felt like my thoughts could take over so easily, either.
I managed to calm myself down and stop crying. I can’t remember the exact order of what thoughts went through my head. But after a while, I do remember separating myself from my thoughts. Trying to unhook from them, or hook to new thoughts, to lead me down the road that I wanted to go. My main feeling - I was scared. I didn’t entirely know why. But because I was scared, I was crying, trembling, nervous. Not excited like I should be. I was anxious that because I was scared, I wasn’t going to enjoy this wonderful experience that daddy wanted to give me. I was scared about being scared. I didn’t want to go down this road. I wanted to be a whore. I wanted to be used, I wanted to be a slut.
I remember repeating to myself over and over, I want to be a slut. I want to be a slut. I began thinking about other girls who welcomed sex with open arms and open legs. I wanted to be a sex addicted whore like them. I tried so hard to focus on those thoughts. To go down that road instead. But I was fighting so so hard with the scared little baby that really felt like it was attached to me. I was trying to be someone else. How could I be someone else? How could I let go of who I was, and be a slut? It was like playing tug of war in my mind, that’s the best way I can describe it. But it was so much more than that.
I began to think more about what I’ve been learning in therapy. About accepting thoughts and feelings, but not getting hooked on them. I thought about accepting that I was scared, but that I could also be a slut. I didn’t need to be like someone else. I’m me. Why can’t I be a scared little slut? What’s wrong with that? Nothing, I realised, absolutely nothing. That was who I was. I was a scared little slut. I began repeating over and over in my head, “It’s okay to be a slut and still be scared.” Over and over and over. I was still scared, but my thoughts stopped fighting so much, they stopped taking over. I could focus on my breathing a bit more. I remembered a bit more about who I am when I fuck with daddy. I’m his little girl. I love cock, and I love to fuck and be used, but I’m just a little girl, and it’s completely normal for me to be scared. I’m not that out-there, over-the-top, up-for-anything kinda whore. I’m a cute scared little baby slut.
And the rest of the day was absolutely, incredibly, and completely wonderful.
germansingergirl
ellievsbear
