The Rebirth of Mimi

     Mimi’s boyfriend taught her that she was a good girl, who dressed modestly and had no need for makeup.  He was persuasive and she wanted to believe him.  She loved him and wanted to please him.  She convinced herself there was nothing wrong with pleasing her boyfriend and eventually, she convinced herself she was that person.  And then she convinced everyone else.
    Mimi’s boyfriend began dating her when she was only fifteen years old.  She had been a little rebellious as many fifteen years olds are.  She drank too much, smoked a little weed, and dressed a little too old for her age.  Her boyfriend taught her that all that was bad.  He showed her that there was a better way to be.  He molded her into the person he wanted her to be, the person she thought she wanted to be, and the person who everyone believed she was.
    When they graduated high school, they both went off to college, different colleges, several hours away from each other.  Mimi stayed true to the person she believed she was.  She made friends, but she avoided many of the crazier things they did.  She often became their caretaker. She kept them out of trouble, got them home safely, and held their hair when they threw up after a wild night.  She was responsible, boring, and maybe even seen as a little uptight.
     Mimi was being a good girl and loved that her boyfriend was the same.  He knew exactly what she was going through and they shared the same battle stories.  They’d laugh as they shared  harrowing tales of their friends’ debauchery while proudly playing the role of reasonable person.  She loved him deeply and couldn’t wait until they graduated, moved in together and started a new life.
     Still, there was a darker part of Mimi that she kept hidden from the rest of the world.  She was hypersexual. Her thirst for sex was almost never quenched. And although she liked the vanilla sex she had with her boyfriend, she craved something harder, rougher, dirtier, kinkier.  She didn’t share her desires with her boyfriend. She already knew his opinion on the matter.  Good girls didn’t act that way.
     Yet, when she was all alone, she got the kinks out.  Explored her body.  She didn’t just masturbate, she filmed herself.  She took photos.  She’d set up her tripod, and begin rubbing her body seductively. She created different scenes depending on her mood. She might play with her breasts, pushing them together while staring into the camera with an intense look of longing. She might squeeze her nipples tightly and throw her head back as the pain mixed with pleasure shot through her. She might run her hands down her body until she reached her clit, rubbing it slowly at first, and then with more force as the pleasure built. She might sink to her knees as the pleasure became too much to stand. She might fuck her dildo in a kneeling position, bouncing up and down, feverish in her desire to climax. And she might look into the camera, face red, eyes full of ecstasy. She loved reviewing the film. She loved seeing the gradual change in her facial expressions as she came closer to coming and the look of satisfaction when she did.  It was beautiful. Artistic. Then, she’d always delete her little home movies and kinky photos. They were her secret.
    Around the time she was set to graduate college, set to finally reunite with her boyfriend for good, she decided to surprise him at his college. He had told her his friends were all going away to a concert that weekend and he’d be bored.
    When she arrived at his apartment, she was surprised to hear voices and music, but she quickly dismissed it. He must’ve invited over different friends. No big deal.
     It became a big deal when one of the supposed concert-going friends answered the door.  All his concert-going friends were there, all holding red Solo cups, filled with what she assumed was beer. All had shocked looks on their faces.  No one greeted her. The friend who opened the door stood in place. And then she saw the reason for their shocked silence. Her boyfriend sat on the couch with a scantily clad woman sitting on his lap.
     Mimi’s heart sunk and herself was in shock. She heard herself ask, “What are you doing?”
     Her boyfriend said nothing, but the girl on his lap spoke eagerly, her speech slurred, “You must be the girlfriend who always has the stick up her ass.  I’m the girl he really wants to be with.”
     Her boyfriend finally spoke, saying the words every cheater says when caught, “It’s not what you think.”
     The girl hopped off his lap, “Oh really?” she asked him, offended he didn’t immediately support her nastiness.
     He tried to stand but stumbled and had to grab a chair to steady himself.  He made two steps towards chasing her, but the effort was too much and he collapsed into a nearby chair.
     Mimi looked around the room, saw the uncomfortable looks on everyone’s faces, people she thought were her friends. She looked at the guy holding the door. He looked to the ground, unable to look her in the eyes. She found the strength to walk away.
     Humiliation set in almost immediately. He had ridiculed her to his friends for being the person he wanted her to be.  Those people had thought she was an uptight bitch. Not only that, they knew who he really was and kept his infidelity to themselves.
     Humiliation gave way to sadness.  Sadness became anger.  Anger made her question everything he taught her, made her realize it was bullshit, and led her to question who she was. Anger became the foundation for a metamorphosis into her true self.
     She realized she had been wearing a mask. She had never known who she really was. For the first time, she had the freedom to be the person she avoided. The person she might actually be.  She dyed her hair, put on some makeup, wore a sexy little black dress, and removed the stick that had been firmly planted in her ass.
     And it felt good. She wanted more. She wanted to explore her kinky side and used the website Fet Life as a means to do so. She posted the nudes and videos she took, with her face artfully hidden. She realized aspects of BDSM turned her on. She ached to try it out herself.  She needed a teacher.
     She found one in Robert.  They got to know each other. He promised her more than the vanilla sex she had always had before. He promised she’d be more satisfied than she’d ever been.  In return, she promised to be a good student.
     He wanted to take it slow. She declined. She had waited long enough and wanted the full experience. He complied.
     He told her to come to his house ready to play and so she did.  She presented herself to him, dressed in a little black skirt that barely covered her cute little ass, and a mesh shirt without a bra, revealing her small, perky breasts and small nipples.
     Standing there, she felt anxious, vulnerable, and excited.  She was ready to submit, surrender control.  Her panties were wet from the anticipation.
     “Take off your top,” he ordered.
     She did as she was told. He took out a cat of nine tails and brushed it lightly against her nipples. She inhaled sharply at the touch, the light pleasure it brought.
     Gradually, the strokes of the whip became heavier.  She whined against the pleasure each stroke brought. She crossed her legs, trying to relieve some of the pressure.  She needed him inside her.
     But he made her wait.  He took one nipple in each of his hands and pulled her his leather upholstered coffee table.
     “Oh my god,” she said, the pleasure his tight grip brought overwhelmed her.
     “Bend over and grab the other side of the table,” he growled.
     He walked in front of her, still fully clothed, a foreboding presence in the dim light. He showed her a flat, leather paddle.
     “This is when your punishment begins.”
     He walked behind her and gave her soft pats at first and rubbed her ass with the paddle, warming her up.
     His strikes became harder and harder. She screamed out, unable to control herself, not knowing what she was saying, focused solely on the swats, never before knowing she would like it so much. The pain and the submission brought her to a place of sublime pleasure. She only knew she needed it harder.
     And so she begged for each strike. Begged for each strike to be harder than the one before it.
     He came around to the front of her and lifted her head by her hair so that she could see his now exposed, hard and throbbing penis.
     “Come here and get on your knees,” he growled.
     She eagerly obeyed.  He guided her head onto his penis.
     “I want you to give me sloppy head. I want your spit dripping from it.”
     She did as she was told.  From his shallow breathing and slight moaning, she knew she was doing a good job.  He guided her head further and further down his shaft, until she gagged.  He’d give her a little break before making her gag again.
     “Turn around and get on all fours,” he said, this time his voice sounding a little strained.
     He pushed her head down as she felt the sweet relief of his entry.  She came almost immediately, his first few thrusts being all she needed to push her over the edge into bliss. Waves of pleasure cascaded through her body and she continued to feel on the edge of orgasm as he continued to thrust.
     Until he pushed her over the second time with the last few hard, rapid thrusts toward his own orgasm.  He held her thighs as they both panted, languishing in the pleasure and unable to move.
     Afterwards, he held and kissed her sweetly, intimately. He complimented her skills and how well she submitted.  He admired how her creamy skin bruised beautifully.  He wanted more of her and she couldn’t get enough of him.
     Still, she wanted more. She wanted an audience. Robert had taken her to BDSM parties before. She had enjoyed the sight of people being tied up, spanked, flogged, shocked in every part of the room. She had watched, allowing the sights to turn her on, biding her time before jumping in.  She knew it was time for the voyeur to become the watched.
     At the next party, she finally became a full participant.  Robert bent her over a saw horse and tied her down.  He clamped down each nipple with a clothes pin causing her to cry out with the intensity of pleasure each clamp brought, pleasure that constantly streamed through her body.
     Robert began flogging her.  The force of each blow caused her to cry out.  He made her beg for more, for harder hits.  She could see the crowd start to gather. The knowledge everyone was watching only amplified her pleasure.  Two of the girls to whom she had become close decided to help Robert.  One held a hitachi to her clit while the other fucker her with a dildo.  She had never felt such intense pleasure.  She felt as though she left her body.  Her moans became growls, tears rolled down her face.  When she came, the force of her orgasm caused her to visibly shake. She heard the applause before she regained cognizance of her surroundings.  Her friends helped her up.  She gave Robert and her two girlfriends kisses and hugs as she thanked them for the experience.
      Now you can find Mimi at invite only BDSM parties, satisfying her hedonistic urges while being embraced by people just like her.

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