Lots of Horny Men

As soon as I entered the Slut for humiliation room, I was amazed and overwhelmed at all of the depraved sexual acts that were being posted, I saw gifs and images of women getting whipped and beaten, pony girls pulling carts, others were getting pissed on or being **** to lick the rims of toilet bowls. Mixed in was all your more "standard" porn as well with blowjobs, anal, and go old fashioned fucking all mixed into it. The most exciting part though was the private chat option available to everyone on the site. As soon as I had created my guest profile, men started to message me, wanting to meet up to fuck, asking for pictures of my tits, or just writing to tell me that I was just like all the other whores on the site. One user even told me that if he ever found me, he'd fuck my asshole in front of my parents before carrying me away to live as his personal sex ****. It was degrading. I felt humiliated. I was so God. Damn. Wet.

I couldn't stop rubbing my pussy to the site. Every insult, every image sent my brain spiraling into a new submissive fantasy, and I just needed more. Maybe it was my innocence, or maybe it was because I really was a slut, but that night I responded to everyone that messaged me. It didn't matter if they were old, young, mean or nice, I did my best to please them all. I even sent out a few of my own pics to a few randos that I've never heard from sense. Finally around three or four in the morning, I passed out from sheer exhaustion. My panties had been utterly ruined and my legs felt sticky down to my knees. But I didn't care. That night had been the most erotic and exciting thing to have ever happened to me.

*********************************************************************************

The next morning was still summer vacation and I didn't have to go to my job as a lifeguard, so I chose to stay in bed late and create a proper account for myself. All it took was an email, which I was able to fake, and I was in. I had learnt after last night that posting myself might lead to some complications. I was still set to attend a very conservative university in the fall, and if my activities were ever found out while I was in school, I would almost certainly be expelled. So instead I decided to create a profile that catered more to the ideal that I wanted to be. I Looked up a photo of a then famous Instagram influencer and used it as my profile photo. She was young and white with blonde hair like me, but she was super skinny with a DD rack that she never hid in any of her photos. I found one of her sticking her tongue out and chose to roll with it. Now I know what you must be thinking, cat-fishing is wrong and can hurt people. But I never asked people for money. I never tried to get them to send me gifts of leave their wife and kids. I didn't even try to pretend that the person in the pic was me. I left a disclaimer in my bio that I wasn't the girl in my profile pic, just somewhat similar. So what if I lied just a little on a sex site to get male approval? It's not like men are always honest about their dick size or their relationship status when they're on there. And maybe I liked it when guys told me that they liked my fat tits. Though if I'm being honest, I liked it more when they found out I was just a b cup and started calling them mosquito bites. I didn't yet know it, but I actually have a massive degradation fetish. Maybe this is where it all started.

The rest of the profile was simple enough. I put in that I was young, inexperienced, and interested in bondage. At the time that was my biggest fetish. I loved the thought of being tied up, helpless and at the mercy of my captor. Crotch ropes and breast harnesses were my biggest turn on, as well as predicament bondage, where I could move, but doing so would cause more pain to my tits or ass, or some other unfortunate consequence. And believe me, This site had plenty of bondage material. I learned so much about what kind of rope to use, how long I could safely stay tied up, and how far I was willing to push myself. There were plenty of instances when I did get careless though.

About a week or so after finding Chat2Fuck, I went ahead and decided to try out a new bondage position while in bed. I didn't really have a whole lot of bondage equipment with me, but I did have my brother's wallet chain in my room. It was a long thin chain that he used to connect his wallet to the belt loop of his pants to keep from losing it, maybe about three or four feet long. That night for some reason, the chain was in my room. Deciding to have just a bit of fun, I took the chain and wrapped it around me so that the back of my neck was bent down and my thighs were pulled up the chain rain from behind my neck to behind my knees, essentially folding me in half. It wasn't the most restrictive of bondage, but it was just enough to make me feel wet and a little helpless. There wouldn't be any way to hide what I was doing if anyone decided to enter my room.

Once I was tied up, I knelt on the bed, which in turn **** my face into my pillows. My ass was up and on display for anyone who would walk into the room. My arms were pinned between my legs but were otherwise free to do as they wanted. As the tight bondage and the thought of my exposure made my pussy throb with need, I reached up and started to finder fuck myself from behind. I felt so helpless and aroused, I had to bite down on my pillow to keep from waking anyone else up. All the while my phone was right next to me, showing me the SFH gif stream as I imagined myself as each and every one of the women in those pics. I made myself cum three times that night before finally passing out.

When I awoke the next morning, my phone was dead. my legs and neck felt sore, and my bare ass was still on display for anyone who entered my room. I've never really had an **** fetish before, so I didn't exact want my father or brother to come in and see me this way. I probably would have died from the sheer humiliation if that had happened. What made it worse, was that today was Sunday, which meant that I had to wear a nice yellow floral dress with spaghetti straps instead of something a little bit more conservative like a hoodie to cover the marks on my thighs and neck. I didn't realize that it would be such a big issue until after my mother pointed out the red marks on my neck half way through the morning sermon. I brushed it off by saying that it must have been because I had slept in an awkward position the night before and the blanket was wrapped around me a bit too tight. I think she bought it, because we never talked about it again. And after all, I was supposed to be little miss goodie-two-shoes; no one would have ever guessed that I could be up to something this perverse. But then again, no one ever suspected that they'd see my brother without his wallet chain, and I didn't let him see that again for a very long time. I just needed to remember to not leave myself tied up for too long, or to hide the rope and chain marks with clothing and foundation after any future bondage sessions.