my writing – Page 3 – ProblemCollectionLove

‘Princess’ had been your pet name for your girlfriend from the start. You even used it around others. Your mean coworker thought it was girly and a sign of weakness. He made fun of you frequently and mercilessly.

“You’re such a fucking beta, bro! ‘My princess!’ Eesh. But seriously dude you’re just giving her too much power worshiping her like that. A girl needs a man to take a stronger hand. Call her babe, chick, or slut even but not princess. Unless…is it like a sex thing? Does she dress up like a bimbo Disney princess and let you ravage her while she calls out for Prince Charming to save her?”

“What? Ew. No, we’re not into weird infantalizing and rapey stuff like that.”

“Yeah, right, dude! If she likes being called princess then she’d love being treated like one. You just need to make sure you get the better end of the deal. All girls secretly have rape fantasies. That’s what rape culture means.”

“I…that’s not…no.”

“You try getting raised to be a sex object and see what fantasies you end up with. I’m just helping girls who are already broken by the system achieve some joy.”

“Uh, you’re such a woke meathead, huh? That’s not us. We love and respect each other.”

“Sure you do, but she doesn’t call you her Prince, does she? Thought so. Wise up and give your girl what she craves or someone else will.”

Later that week your Princess mentioned the meathead had friended her on Facebook. She hated him but didn’t want to cause trouble for you so she accepted. You tried to get her to unfriend but she thought that would be more trouble than sticking it out.

Soon she started complaining about all the sexist, rapey memes he posted. Some to her wall! Just block him, you urged. But now she was looking at it as a sociological experiment. She wanted to understand the mind of a misogynist bro. Maybe she could change him.

That’s how she ended up agreeing to get coffee with him once a week. She didn’t tell you. He did. When you brought it up she just said she thought you’d overreact. He wasn’t as bad in person, she said. She was getting through to him. Though she did have to listen to his weird hypotheses about how women could find liberation by embracing objectification. So dumb, she told you.

So it was a surprise when she agreed to an exchange of principles. She’d dress really slutty all week and post OotD to instagram if he’d stop catcalling women and be really respectful instead. Then they’d see how much this changed each of their minds. He swore she’d like the attention if she just leaned into it for a while. She thought he’d come to find women responded to him better if he didn’t harass them. You hated this. But she wouldn’t back down.

At least you got most of the benefit of seeing her dress up. And he was nicer at work. You asked him about it.

“I figure you’re so emasculated that you’re basically a girl, dude, so I should be more respectful to you too.” Ugh. Had to ask.

At the end of the week you got this snapchat while they were out on their coffee date…

She’d dropped her pajama pants and tossed them behind the couch without your buddy seeing, so engrossed was he in the game. Your wife, Aphy, snatched the controller from his hands, causing an eruption of surprised anger that died when he saw her bared legs and ass. She was already walking away, “Come play a better game called fuck me without my husband finding out.”

Your friend considered himself a pretty loyal dude, but he never could resist a challenge. You’d only just gone to the bathroom and could be back any minute! He followed her. She walked into the basement and locked the door behind the two of them.

“Make me cum before my husband finds us out? If you can.” Now your best friend was determined to rise to the challenge. In a flash, he unbuckled and let his loose jeans fall onto the stairs as he pulled down his boxers and revealed his impressive, hard cock. If you could have seen them then you would have cursed yourself for telling your wife how Jaime complained that girls couldn’t hand his oversized cock. But you couldn’t see them and your size-queen wife was alone with your buddy, finally experiencing the kind of penis she’d always dreamed about. She’d been wet all evening as she planned this and when she spread her labia for Jaime he easily slipped inside.

Bam! Rattle. BAM! Rattle. Thud, thud, thus. Rattle. Went the door as Jaime fucked your wife into it. Aphy fought hard to not cum immediately, focusing instead on the pain as her vagina was mercilessly expanded. “Fuck that’s impressive!” she cried out.

“What is, honey?” you called back. Shit! “Are you into the good wine? I thought you said we were saving that?”

Your wife whispered urgently to he new favorite lover, “Don’t you dare stop now!” Then louder, “No, honey! But Jaime picked a good one. Really, really good! Fuck! Yes, that’s good! Just like that!” Thud, thud! Rattle.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Nnngh. Jaime’s just teasing me. Not letting me get my fill of this sweet ambrosia. You know how, mmm, petulent I get when denied.” Thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud!

“Jaime, just give her what she wants or she’ll throw a real tantrum. I’ve seen it.”

“Yes, nnnnngh, Jaime. Give. It. To Me.” Wham! Thud! Thud! Thud!

“Why don’t you come out here and share just a little?”

“The, mmmmm, door’s locked on us, you dickless wonder! Thus, ahhhh, all the pounding.”

Bam! Rattle. BAM! Rattle.

“Ha! And here I thought Aphrodite was just throwing one of her patented fits. Now I feel foolish. We really need to get that door fixed. Here let me try from this end.”

Just as you started to turn the unlocked door knob, Jaime grabbed it from the other side and held it fast. Aphy whispered, “Just. A Little. More!”

“More, you say?! It’s really not giving at all, I’m afraid.” Bam! Thud, thus, thud! Rattle.

“I think….ahhhhh…just like that! Yesssssss, fuck!” Jaime pulled out of your wife. He had come moments before but kept pounding her until she did. He urgently pulled up her panties. They flooded with leaking semen. Fuck! He pulled off his boxers and put them on Aphy before pulling up his pants and releasing the doorknob. They both fell over at your feet, panting.

“Thank god!” you cried. “Hey, where’s the wine? And…weren’t you wearing pants earlier?”

my-mind-in-black-and-white:

“What the fuck!?” Your burned with rage and panic. You pulled up your contacts and started texting.

“George, you fucking asshole! How could you do this?”

“Um, what, dude?”

“My wife just sent me the fucking proof.! Don’t play stupid!”

“Shit, that sounds serious. But I’m in Toronto on business, remember? I’m sorry man. Frankly I’d bet on Elias if this is what it sounds like it is.”

Fuck! Embarrassing, but George was right.

“Elias! You fucking betrayer! My wife sent me the proof so don’t try to deny it.”

In the end you texted seven friends and none admitted it. What?

You got home from your own business trip the next day.

“I’m sorry babe, that was childish. I was angry after I saw you flirting with that barista and got my brother to take that photo. Just wanted to get a little payback. You know I love you.”

“Sienna! It was just a little harmless flirting! Hardly even that! One joke. But I would never make you think I was fucking one of your friends. How could you do that?!”

Your fiance Sienna ended up crying and sleeping in the guest room. You were too angry to reconcile. Plus you had to leave for another trip for four days. Things would have blown over by the time you got back.

You got a bunch of texts all at once when you stepped off your red-eye flight the morning after. You’d gone to work the next day then gone directly to the airport. You’d had time to visit home but hadn’t wanted to see Sienna yet.

“I’m sorry honey. I went too far. You know how jealous I can get.”

“Elias stopped by and checked in on me. That’s so sweet that you asked him to even though you’re mad. You really are the bigger man.”

“Amir came by, too!”

“And George! We’re having drinks and talking about jealousy. You’d be proud.”

“PMG! You we’re so right about harmless floating!”

“Flirting! I grew up do conservative, you know. George is really heaping to teach me the difference between harmless floating and hookup flirting”

“Playing Twister! Like middle schoolers LOL”

“Living room too hot. AC problem? Can’t even keep clothes in! Look at if when you got back?”

“So drink! Love you!”

“Amir won bet. I guess your not the bigger man LOL”

“Sorry bro! This is Amir. Guess you were right to distrust us.”

“We taught her it’s not cheating if no one cums inside anyone. And if a guy is bigger it’s proper to show him respect.”

“Welp, I guess that’s cheating. We told her it’s too late now. George is up next.”

trigger-warning-rape:

Good, that’s how you should be treated. So tell everyone all about how you were raped.

Your best friend spread the news after you’d had a fight. The fight was about her borrowing your car without asking. But she decided to attack where you were most vulnerable. She’d never fully believed that the gang bang had been fully “unwanted.” Despite what you said about having been drugged. After all, she had searched out the video footage you’d said your parents had used legal action to get taken off the web. She contacted the girlfriend of the ringleader of the “rape” to get a copy. The girlfriend was glad to give it over under promise of anonymity. Your “best friend” Tina didn’t think you looked that out of it. More horny. You’d had enough coordination to suck a cock and give a handjob while being fucked from behind, after all.

Soon the video was spreading again. This time by encrypted Signal messages that couldn’t be stopped like before. “Slut machine” was written on your door in permanent marker. Your name was in stalls all over campus. Girls would grab your tits in public and moo. Guys would wolf whistle at you. You started getting invited to all the frat parties. Some were even held in your name.

It took months but eventually the excitement mostly died down. You met a nice girl. She said all that had happened to you broke her heart. After a few dates, she convinced you to go to a party with her. You hadn’t been to any since the rape.

You felt cautious but good. Really good, actually. Your girlfriend kept feeding you drinks. She led you to a bedroom and started making out. She pulled your shirt over your head and then you heard a ratchety click. Huh? Then another. You could see again as your girlfriend cut away your shirt and you realized you were handcuffed to the bed. Then she secured your legs. You were panicky but you trusted her.

That’s when some guys and girls came in with a nice light and a camera.

“Time to make another film, baby.”

After the third guy came, you were sobering up. All that was left was the shame and the sensation. It was just like before. You didn’t want this but your body did. You burned. You’d had enough of being a victim. No one even believed you.

“Release me!” They all laughed. “I want to turn over…So someone can fuck my ass properly! I haven’t had good anal since last time…” They laughed and cheered. Your “girlfriend” uncuffed you. You slapped her hard and then pulled her in for a kiss. “Does anyone have a strap-on? This bitch deserves a piece of me.”

That’s what she’s there for. Your doctor believes strongly in sexual health. A lot of guys will lie if you just ask about their sex life, their ability to get erections. But Doctor Freely can’t help if she doesn’t know the truth. So that’s why she employs a sex worker full time, posing as a “naughty nurse.”

One unexpected side-effect is that cheating will often breathe new life into men’s sex lives, their confidence, and their functioning. Some “impotent” men will find that they just needed a change of scenery. Samantha is very good at putting the patients at ease. Spouses and partners benefit from this change, too. Many a patient has reported to Dr. Tachimei Freely that their relationship has suddenly gotten much better.

cuckcakedomination:

You hated her but now you’re nothing but grateful to her.

She’d been the worst from the start.

“Ooh, I like your cat-eye glasses. Sometimes I wish I could rock the mousy look,” said the statuesque blonde, looking down at you, the first time you had met. She was a vision; sexy, confident, elegant. “Guys never call me ‘cute,’ y’know?”

She was your fiance’s new business partner. He spoke highly of her and she seemed to hold him in great esteem as well. It was infuriating.

“You’re such a lucky woman to have a man as smart and clever as Ahmed. And so…handsome.” She winked at you. ”You’re such a strong woman. I would just be anxious that he’d find someone better. I’m terribly jealous of your self-assurance. Here you have such a catch and you don’t even wear makeup or go to the gym. You’re totally my hashtag goals.”

This went on for months. You tried to play down your insecurities while telling your fiance what was up. He just laughed and assured you that Janae didn’t mean anything, that her worst crime was being oblivious. He refused to take you seriously. So her comments continued, sometimes right in front of your fiance.

“Your fiance is so adorable, Ahmed! How do you resist just scooping her up like a little girl and pinching her cheeks? Oh, I simply couldn’t not!”

“Heh heh, Vee never lets me. No matter how much I might want to.”

“Vee, Ahmed is strong! I can see it even through his long sleeved shirts. Don’t be afraid he’ll drop you. You’re not that pudgy. I bet with our height difference we weigh the same. 130? Here, pick me up Ahmed. We’ll show her.”

He looked embarrassed and uncertain but Janae insisted until he scooped her into his arms like a groom with a bride. He showed no strain. They looked right together. Both so well dressed, attractive, tall, sexy. She put her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder, looking over at you.

“See, Vee? This is easy for such a strapping young man. Let him cuddle you like his sweet little girl.” With that she turned her head to Ahmed, rubbing her cheek along his neck and cheek, stopping when her lips were practically pressed into his ear. Down she whispered huskily. Ahmed shuddered and released Janae quickly, but she managed to uncurl slowly, sliding the full length of her body down his front. She kept her arms around his neck and relaxed into his chest, panting.

“Really, I don’t know how you resist climbing him right here.” She pushed away, pressind her open palms over his chest. “Really, try it. I’m not squeamish.”

You looked to Ahmed and saw a touch of reluctance, shame. Your eyes darted down and saw a very obvious tent in his lightweight work pants. That made you angry and ashamed but also determined. You marched right up to him.

“You seem uncertain,” he interrupted, “Here, let’s start out like this.” He turned around and bent down, offering you a piggy-back ride. It was childish by comparison. But you were too surprised and too stubborn. You went ahead with it and were soon on his back. Was he keeping you from feeling his boner?

“Awww, so cute. Like a tired little toddler. Hmm…maybe you are just a little heavier. Ahmed, do squats and pushups for your fiance so you carry her like you did me.”

Your face burned and you pressed it into his back so she wouldn’t see the tears at your eyes. You felt so humiliated, unsexy, fat…

After that you started changing things. You went to the gym. But not with Ahmed. It was too embarrassing. You really weren’t fat but up against that petite queen you felt so squishy. You got platform shoes and the highest heels you could find. You practically threw out all your old clothes and replaced them with more elegant, mature, sexy outfits. You bought makeup and practiced tutorials online.

Ahmed seemed confused but he also complimented you. And you certainly noticed he initiated sex more often! The sex was very vigorous.

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck! Take it,babe, take it! I’m going to fill you right up. You like that? Yeah you do. Fuck, Janae, ahhhh!” And he came, exploding into you.

“What?!”

“Sorry, Vee, I came. It was just so good. Was it too soon?”

“You said Janae.”

“What?! No. No. No. I…did-n’t. I said ba-bay, baby. Sorry, it’s corny. I’m sorry you thought that. You’re my only cutie pie. You know that.”

You didn’t argue the obvious lie. You just excused yourself and went to the bathroom and cried quietly. You’d tried so hard to live up to Janae. But you couldn’t. You weren’t good enough. You weren’t an elegant sex goddess. You were cute. All your trying did was to remind your fiance of her. You took out your phone.

“This is Vee. You win.” You’d stolen her number from Ahmed’s phone weeks ago when looking at their texts. Nothing had really been incriminating.

“I win what, cutie?”

“You know. I admit defeat. You’re the better woman.”

“Honey bunches, there’s no such thing as a better woman. Only different women. Or girls, in your case. We all have different roles we belong in.”

“Well this girl is done. I’ll step aside. You can have him.” Tears steamed down you face, onto the screen.

“Have who? What do you want me to do to him? Tell me, little girl.”

“Take Ahmed! Fuck him! He deserves someone better. Someone hotter. I can’t compete!”

“Is that all?”

“What more do you want?! I give up!”

“I want it all, Vee-Vee. You’re upset because you were in the wrong place. You had a stud. And studs belong to women like me, not little girls like you. Understand?”

You nodded dumbly then typed: “yes.”

“Good. Now you can be happy. You will be happy. You just need to find the right place for little girls like you and accept it. Will you let me help?”

“yes.”

“Okay then. I am going to take Ahmed. I will fuck him. Eventually you will watch. It will be hard for you. You will masturbate while you do. But you will feel happy and right, in your place, for the first time. Got it?”

“yes”

“Are you masturbating now?”

What?! No! You looked down. You were fingering yourself idly. When did that happen? Why did it feel so good?

“yes”

“‘Yes, Mommy.’“

“yes, Mommy”

“Good. Ahmed and I will look after you. You’re an incompetent little girl. You need someone to guide you.”

“thank you, Mommy.”

trigger-warning-rape:

Your new art exhibit where you were willing to show off “the beauty of the female form” by exposing yourself at a frat party didn’t go how you expected. Your professor gave you a failing grade and the frat took you in after that.

Your old art professor was so mean and sexist! Women had destroyed performance art, he said! It was all bad poetry and buckets of menstrual blood, he said! There was nothing brave and manly anymore in performance art, he said!

Well you decided to show him that women were braver than men ever could be and that performance art could be of interest to both sexes!

You set up a performance at the frat house where your best friend’s bf lived. You were going to show him exactly why women exposing themselves and their feelings was such an important act. You would show him exactly what it was like for a woman to exist bodily in this men’s world.

In the end you were gang-raped by most of the guys. Your best friend’s boyfriend who said he’d protect you just laughed and egged them on, telling you your ‘best friend’ thought you were a “self-righteous cunt who needed to get knocked down a peg. Or knocked up.” He told you how your supposed friend had swapped out your birth control for fakes months ago. You were crying by the time your professor got to the front of the queue and began fucking your fertile pussy.

“Good job, you stupid bitch! You really showed the patriarchy, heh heh. This isn’t art, you moron. This is just you realizing where women really belong; not in art but on their knees! I hope you take this lesson to heart. I’ll help you on your path, though. I’ll make sure you fail out of the art program altogether! This is where cunts belong, not in my class. Say ‘thank you’ now, you whore.”

*sniff* “Thank you, p-p-professor.”

—————-

Your ‘best friend’ kicked you out of the apartment for fucking her boyfriend and being a whore. She made sure everyone knew, and all your friends abandoned you. Even your most sexually liberated feminist friends thought you were a traitor to the sisterhood. It was then a representative from the Frat told you how much money they’d made off of videos of you. He offered to give you room and board if you kept ‘preforming’ for them. That’s how you become a frat house whore.

ruthless-lust:

FOMO

“No no, you can’t back out. Your wife said you’d try that just out of guilt. But no worries, I don’t feel at all like you’re treating me as a unicorn. I like fucking guys in the ass, actually. It’s the only time men really moan like bitches. So don’t worry about me… …I can see you’re still hesitant. Don’t run away! Yes, I locked the door. I want you to get to enjoy this.

And you feel more relaxed already, right? Woozy? Yes, well I did drug your drink just a little. Shh, shh, don’t worry it won’t numb the sensation at all. Just makes it harder for you to get away. Yes, it’s hot in here. Let me take your pants off. And your shirt. Now I’m putting this bra on you. Okay, so your name is Bitch now, okay? Say, ‘my name is Bitch.’ Good, yes! Just like that. Now I’m going to fuck you like a bitch. That seems right, doesn’t it? Good, good.”

kittiecaptions:

Caught By Daddy

It’s not hard to not get caught…

My parents were in some crazy Christian cult you’ve probably never heard of. Extra misogynist. They told me my whole life woman’s role was to serve. I knew early on that’s the role I wanted. I’d burn with, giddy, nervous energy whenever they spoke about “good, submissive girls.” Daddy tried to interest me in the “benefits” of being with such a girl but I had no interest. I grew my hair and dressed in an increasingly androgynous way. They were concerned but let it slide at first. I was such a good, obedient boy, after all!

They finally spooked the first time I wore a dress. After spending days in my room they decided on a punishment to “scare me straight”; they’d treat me like a girl if I didn’t shape up. Oh no! 😀

I’d been jealous of Mommy for years. We fought just like any mother and daughter, never admitting aloud that the heart of our contention was that we both wanted to be the woman of the house, to be the one Daddy chose. Some daughters won’t admit this means they want to fuck Daddy, but I knew better.

So I started dressing in tight jeans and short shorts, trying to seduce my father. I knew he couldn’t resist staring at young girls in tight clothes. I hoped I’d be able to flip that switch in him until he thought of me more as a piece of ass than as his son. It seemed to be working. I caught glimpses of the bulge in his pants when I showed off. I let him “catch” me napping in the living room in lacy panties, thigh highs, and a bra. From behind I looked just like Mommy. He got home from work and immediately began feeling me up.

“Oh honey, what a treat. Our sissy son better not come home and ruin this or I swear I’ll fuck that bitch too.” I heard his belt buckle come undone. “Still asleep, honey? Well, no matter” I felt something warm and hard bump into my ass. His hands started pulling my panties down.

“Mmm, Daddy? Are you home?” I pretended to be groggy and half asleep.

He fled. I opened an eye to watch as he tucked his cock away while heading to his bedroom. It was a nice cock.

“You better start dressing like a boy or we’ll teach you to act like a real girl. You know what that means!”

“No, Daddy, no!” I tried to make it sound convincing.

That night I listened at the wall between our rooms with a glass. Mommy was concerned. Jealous, I bet. But Daddy assured her that as soon as the threat of being treated like a girl became imminent that I would snap out of it. Mommy giggled evilly.

“That little sissy won’t last an instant in a good, submissive girl’s shoes,” she said.

When you started dating your girlfriend she had warned there would be “complications”. You were obsessed and madly in I love so you agreed to do “whatever it takes” to be with her.

That’s when she sheepishly brought out The Contact. It said someone named Lucas Tipton owned your girlfriend’s body and was entitled to “ravage her whenever he so pleases.” What the hell?! He was her ex, she explained. She’d been into his kinks and so signing away her bodily autonomy had just seemed really hot at the time. Nothing in the contract had forbidden her from dumping the asshole when she grew wise to his womanizing. Unfortunately, according to the rules, only he could release her from her obligations.

Surely this wasn’t legal? “No,” she replied, looking away, “but my Papa brought me up to respect men and always honor my agreements and promises. I hate it, I do, but I just can’t dishonor myself and my Papa by turning back on my word. He may not keep his promises, but I do. I can’t sink to his level. I know this is weird, but…can you still love me?” Of course you could. You had no choice but to love her.

That’s how you ended up with a girlfriend who fucks her ex more than she does you. Oh, at first she tried to keep parity, but more and more these days she’s just too tired and sore. You hate it, but you love each other. And you respect her sense of duty and trust. Sure, sometimes you wish it was a little less… Like when she earnestly thanks every cat-caller for their compliments and complies with their demands that she “twirl for me, show me what you got.” Or how she abandons you at the drop of a hat when her ex texts her a booty call. Or worse, the appointment she has to get a clit piercing and tramp stamp tattoo reading ‘Luke’s Bitch’. But what can you do? “I’m so sorry babe, but he owns my body; I take that seriously. And it’s not like I’m not his bitch. But I’m your love, honey.”