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Hunger Pains

December 19th, 2006

Iâ??m cursing myself for an idiot and Iâ??m damn near crying to
boot. Why? Because I waited and waited to ask to go to the bathroom and get
something to eat. Because the urge and the hunger werenâ??t bad enough to ask for
it. And then when Master said, â??Time for my meeting.â? I didnâ??t say, â??Master! I
really need to go potty and Iâ??m starving. Please??â?

So here I sit. Starving to death and trying desperately not
to pee in my computer chair.

Lesson learned? Stop being so god damned proud and ask when
you want/need something. Does that mean Iâ??ll actually take heed of this lesson?
Who knows? Hereâ??s hoping. Cause damn do I hate the way it feels to have to go
to the bathroom.

My stomach is killing me, though. Youâ??d think I have more
sense than this. To sit here and allow the acid to build in my stomach until
thereâ??s really no returning and Iâ??m going to be in pain all day. Such a stupid
little cunt, I am.

I donâ??t have a lot to say lately. Iâ??m floating in this â??Who
am I?â? space that I get in from time to time. The fucked up part is Iâ??m not
getting an answer. My mindâ??s coming up blank. This is usually when I turn to
Master to define who I am but lately Iâ??m sort of balking at His answer. Not
really outwardly. That would get me into trouble. But inwardly.

I find myself thinking about who and what I am and phrases
like, â??This is about what I want, not what you want.â? and â??Youâ??ll obey because
you are slave. The rest is unimportant.â? and â??Theyâ??re men. Theyâ??ll do what they
want with you. Youâ??re only course of action is to obey.â? keep playing over and
over in my head. And then I start thinking, â??But what if I want it to be about
me?â? and â??The rest is important to me, though!â? and â??But what if they want me
to do something against your rules?�

Iâ??ve only just recently conquered my reaction to being made
to sit on the floor and lick Masterâ??s legs when I really want to be doing
something else. I no longer sigh or pout or bitch up. I smile and snuggle in
close hoping it will lead elsewhere. I havenâ??t quite conquered my reaction to
not being fucked. Itâ??s damn disappointing to want His big, beautiful cock in my
cunt and not get it. Especially when He spends part of the day making me
torture my pussy and take pictures of it.

I still find myself thinking about how hard it is to work
for hours and then come home and not be able to just relax. Being tired and
being directed to the floor used to make for some excellent temper tantrums. Now
I just resign myself to my fate and get to where Iâ??m supposed to be. And within
seconds my pussyâ??s quivering and Iâ??m fighting tears of frustration. Wanting to
beg to be fucked and afraid of being told no.

Last night was absolute torture. My cunt tightened time and
again and I clenched my fists. I moaned and then wanted to cry when Master
decided to fuck my mouth and not my pussy. I got off with my face buried in His
ass, lapping at His ass hole while I came violently with an empty pussy and my
own fingers on my clit. And I never express any of this.

This mixture of disappointment and extreme gratitude. The
mere seconds after cumming when I am sated and I want to scream â??Thank you!â? (but
never do) before Iâ??m back in overdrive and wanting to cum again. This hunger
for feeling my pussy grip His cock while orgasm after orgasm milks Him to His
own satisfaction. This need to find a place in which Iâ??m at least temporarily
sated. Iâ??m never sated more than a second or two.

And it has nothing to do with Him. He's the best fuck I've ever had. It has everything to do with how incredibly insatiable I am. How much of a whore I am. I'm the kind of chick who could get gang raped by fifty guys and then peek up when the last one's finished and say "That's it???"

Being insatiable isnâ??t all itâ??s cracked up to be. Being horny
all the time is depressing. I want to beg to stick my fingers in my cunt and
fuck my vibrator when Heâ??s at work. Fuck myself raw. And then when He comes
home, hop on His cock and fuck Him and myself silly. And I know that when thatâ??s
finished, Iâ??ll still want more.

But I donâ??t. And I donâ??t because Iâ??m afraid of what Iâ??ll be
made to do to earn the orgasm. And then I feel like an idiot.

I need to beg more. I need to make it clearer how
desperately frustrated I find myself at times. I need to be fucked. Hard and
deep and rough. While Iâ??m being punched and caned and there are weighted
clovers on my nipples and my clit is clamped. And allowed to take the clamp off
and have my fingers on my sore clit while Heâ??s fucking me. And allowed to cry
myself to wave after wave of orgasm while He pounds His cock into my cunt. Maybe
that will (temporarily) quench this unbearable thirst. Maybe.

Probably not.

My clitâ??s throbbing.

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