Thread: Ownership [Minnie & Devilla]

My blouse began to grow damp with perspiration. The thin fabric stuck to my slick skin, and the wetness made it more of a see-through than intended. I barely noticed it though. I was so consumed by everything that was happening around me, I was hardly aware of my own self. I felt drunk, or high, even though I hadn't had a single drop, or puff. I was high, I realized, on sex. Just being in this place, near where all these obscene acts were being performed, was enough to make me feel like I was having sex. I know that I'm very sensitive to surroundings and moods and other people's auras. I get sucked into them, and they make me feel what they're feeling. Pain. Ecstacy. Sadistic pleasure. Overstimulation. All the different and powerful emotions surged into me, infecting me. Making me drip. I find myself watching a pair of girls who are tied together with rope, their bodies mushed against each other. They were forced to constantly make out, while anyone who wanted to could stick something inside of them. I noted that nobody used their cocks to penetrate with. Probably a rule. The thought of having a rule like that, was arousing in itself. Two women came, carrying hand-held machinery with dildos stuck at the tips. The crowd cheered as they placed themselves on either side of the tied girls, and stuck on inside each of them, turning it on. They began to scream, but if they stopped kissing, someone would immediately spank them from behind. They were forced to scream into each others' mouths, muffling each other with their lips. It almost made me come, just by watching. I was wishing that I was one of those girls, naked and on display. The thought of giving yourself up like that, to the public, to be used by any and all, was extremely titilating. I suddenly decide that I've had enough. My brain is overloaded with images and impressions, and I hurry out in the cold. I stand, dripping with sweat, as I wait for the cab. Once I'm in the back seat, on my way home, I covertly begin to touch myself, grinding my palm crudely against the crotch of my skirt, like I was some kind of animal. But I had to get relief, and I had to get it now. Just a little rough attention was all I needed. I came, silently, forcing the orgasm inwards, biting my lip to keep me from moaning. Somehow though, I'm not given any relief. I'm still horny. Oh, so horny. At home, in the flat my boyfriend and me share, I quickly take a shower. He works nights, so he's not home, thank God. I don't want him asking questions. Asking why I smell like sex, or where I've been. For once I'm glad he's not here. He wouldn't understand these needs. He wouldn't be able to give me any relief either. A sweet guy, sure he was, and he was a comfort to me daily, but he didn't possess what it was that I desire in a sexual partner at the moment. After the shower, I feel exhausted. Wearing only a puffy bathrobe, I crash on the couch and close my eyes for a few minutes, recovering. When I feel a little better, I go and find my phone, before slumping back down in the couch. I flick through my messages, and decide that I don't feel like replying to any of them. My head is so full of perverted impressions that it's difficult to act like the normal me. From and old habit, I check my email. I frown. An email named An Invitation stands out among the spam and the automated service emails. I decide it's probably a scam, or something, but I still open it out of curiosity.