Sonnet or Submission
Tags battleship, gambling
This site continues to amazing me.
Most people on here have been very pleasant, despite my uniformed assumptions when I joined. I have had many pleasant conversations and have made it a practice to accept any request for private chat.
But there is always that one guy, let us call him “the Oaf,” who lives up to every crass stereotype. Crude, uneducated and offensive he is the master of the monosyllabic text: “how r u?” “im horny, u skype?” “show me r tits.” His nicknames for me, like “dirty bitch,” are always crude, but the worse, “honey” gets my Welsh temper going every time.
I'm not sure why, but I keep on indulging his chat requests. I've taken to responding with the simplest text devoid of grammar and frequently get a “sudden” phone call from a friend so that I have to abruptly leave, and yet it never gets through his thick skull that I'm not interested.
Saturday night the Oaf PMed me again, however, this time he must have read my newly posted likes & dislikes. He lead with “i love sexual betting” followed by the demand “play battleship.”
I don't know if I was bored, wanted to teach him a lesson, or shocked he did some research, let alone could read, but I agreed. Unsurprisingly, he demanded for his victory that I strip. If I won I required that he would start using complete sentences and find the shift-key.
I really thought I would win and teach him a lesson.
After the game I got that ominous and haunting drum roll announcing his new posts:
“pay up loser”
“get your hoe ass nude cum dump”
For the first time on here I thought of simply lying and pretending to do the dare, but gritting my teeth I begrudgingly complied.
When I informed him I had stripped and was now naked his answer was swift and simple: “rematch cum dump”?
Bristling at my new name, I agreed. Wanting to make him pay I demanded that he write me a full romantic sonnet if I won. But for such a herculean task for him, I had to put up something as equally repulsion for me: an hour of total submission to obey any and all of his troglodyte commands.
I have never wanted to win so much in my whole life, though I do admit risking so much was intoxicating. It was nerve racking when he took a quick lead, but in a photo-finish I won by a hair.
Damn, did I gloat.
I chanted “loser” a half dozen times while hurling as many demeaning and abusive comments I could think of; insulting his intelligent, lack of education, even questioning if English was his native language (yeah, I know that was bad). At first he didn't respond and I thought he had crawled back under the rock from which he was spawned, until he said, “Yes, Miss.”
Shocked but his new tone and use of capitalization, I hastily inquired about what was going on. It turned out the Oaf was a switch and actually preferred being a sub!
With a “Yes, Mistress” he quickly submitted to all my syntactical demands and I promised him a future session where he will receive the proper chastisement for his rude behavior, that is, once I get my sonnet.
Love,
Amy.
Most people on here have been very pleasant, despite my uniformed assumptions when I joined. I have had many pleasant conversations and have made it a practice to accept any request for private chat.
But there is always that one guy, let us call him “the Oaf,” who lives up to every crass stereotype. Crude, uneducated and offensive he is the master of the monosyllabic text: “how r u?” “im horny, u skype?” “show me r tits.” His nicknames for me, like “dirty bitch,” are always crude, but the worse, “honey” gets my Welsh temper going every time.
I'm not sure why, but I keep on indulging his chat requests. I've taken to responding with the simplest text devoid of grammar and frequently get a “sudden” phone call from a friend so that I have to abruptly leave, and yet it never gets through his thick skull that I'm not interested.
Saturday night the Oaf PMed me again, however, this time he must have read my newly posted likes & dislikes. He lead with “i love sexual betting” followed by the demand “play battleship.”
I don't know if I was bored, wanted to teach him a lesson, or shocked he did some research, let alone could read, but I agreed. Unsurprisingly, he demanded for his victory that I strip. If I won I required that he would start using complete sentences and find the shift-key.
I really thought I would win and teach him a lesson.
After the game I got that ominous and haunting drum roll announcing his new posts:
“pay up loser”
“get your hoe ass nude cum dump”
For the first time on here I thought of simply lying and pretending to do the dare, but gritting my teeth I begrudgingly complied.
When I informed him I had stripped and was now naked his answer was swift and simple: “rematch cum dump”?
Bristling at my new name, I agreed. Wanting to make him pay I demanded that he write me a full romantic sonnet if I won. But for such a herculean task for him, I had to put up something as equally repulsion for me: an hour of total submission to obey any and all of his troglodyte commands.
I have never wanted to win so much in my whole life, though I do admit risking so much was intoxicating. It was nerve racking when he took a quick lead, but in a photo-finish I won by a hair.
Damn, did I gloat.
I chanted “loser” a half dozen times while hurling as many demeaning and abusive comments I could think of; insulting his intelligent, lack of education, even questioning if English was his native language (yeah, I know that was bad). At first he didn't respond and I thought he had crawled back under the rock from which he was spawned, until he said, “Yes, Miss.”
Shocked but his new tone and use of capitalization, I hastily inquired about what was going on. It turned out the Oaf was a switch and actually preferred being a sub!
With a “Yes, Mistress” he quickly submitted to all my syntactical demands and I promised him a future session where he will receive the proper chastisement for his rude behavior, that is, once I get my sonnet.
Love,
Amy.
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