Permanent Arousal

“Persistent sexual arousal syndrome.” Never heard of it have you? Well I have, I have it. It can be a terrible problem. Go ahead and look it up on the web, it’s very real. Until two years ago I was a fairly normal woman, mid-20’s, married to a wonderful man. I enjoyed sex, but it wasn’t the center of my life like it is now.

I clearly remember the first time it happened. I was sitting on our couch, watching TV with my husband. Nothing sexual was on, just some silly sit-com. I could feel myself becoming aroused very quickly, and then I was hit by a powerful orgasm. I doubled over, moaning, my husband naturally thought something was wrong.

I told him no, nothing was wrong, kinda, I’d just had one hell of an orgasm. Oh, and by the way, I was about to have another one.

He held me as the second one hit, my hips pumping against his leg, moaning into his ear. When I was done he was smiling, but I wasn’t. I was scared. What was happening to me?

I was panting as I looked into his face. “What’s happening to me?” I asked him.

“Whatever it is, I like it!” he said grabbing my breast.

The touch of his hand on my breast, I was wearing a sweatshirt without a bra, set me off again. I could not have stopped this orgasm if I wanted to. I felt his hands sliding down the front of my jeans as I came; I felt his fingers on my clit, one orgasm rolled into another.

I could hear him from far away as he stripped me, “I’ve never seen you so wet, and swollen!”

The orgasms continued, one after the other, as his cock slid inside me. He wasn’t there long, I don’t think it took him more than a few seconds to come, I just continued as he pulled out.

Finally, they stopped. Well, they didn’t just stop. They tapered off, leaving me naked on the floor of the living room, panting, very tired, and laying in an immense wet spot. I wasn’t really done, I rarely have been really done since then. I was still very aroused, on the edge of coming.

Now Don, my husband, was looking a little concerned. I explained, as best I could, what had happened, and what was happening even then. He bent over to look more closely at my pussy, placing his hand on my pubic hair, and his touch set me off again.

I was completely humiliated, shamed, by what was happening. I still have the feeling of humiliation even now.

“Oh god Don. I’m coming again.” As my hips pumped. “Ohhhhh…..”

He quickly pulled his hand away, and my orgasm diminished. The worst part, in a way, was that these had been the best orgasms I’d ever had. I knew that even then, and I felt guilty.

This situation continued all that night, the next day I couldn’t go to work. By noon I had masturbated 12 times. That actually seemed to help some, for a short time after I masturbated I would be almost normal. Well, highly aroused, ready to go, but not actually coming. I made an appointment to see my doctor that afternoon.

Doctors! Two years later I finally have a name for what I have: “persistent sexual arousal syndrome.” But nobody really knows what causes it, or how to treat it. They’ve given me drugs, anti-depressants, all different kinds, but none of them have worked.

I’ve learned that I don’t have the syndrome all the time, thank god. I’d be insane if I did. It starts about 5 days after my period ends each month and continues until a day or two before it starts again. So I get about a week and a half off each month. My little vacation. The sensations grow until I ovulate. For the 2 or 3 days around that time I’m completely uncontrollable. Juices will run down my leg and pool on the ground if I stand in one place too long. I have to wear a panty liner, or a tampon. I’ll masturbate in my sleep, have one nocturnal orgasm after another. I don’t need any stimulation, but even the most insignificant touch, bumping against another person in the store for instance, will cause an instant overwhelming orgasm. I can’t go out much at that time.

I’ve tried a lot of things on my own. I’ve tried exercise, 2 or 3 hours a day. I’m in the best shape of my life, but it didn’t really help. I tried self-control, but since the orgasms come without regard to what I’m doing, or me, self-control is of little use. The only thing that does work at all is sex, a good hard long fuck will help for a little while.

Well, that’s the background on my syndrome. A little about me: my name’s Mia and I’m 5’6”, well proportioned, and like I said in the best shape of my life. I’ve got red hair, probably because both of parents are Irish and have red hair. My skin is very pale, like many redheads, and my breasts are normal size; I’m a full “C” cup. I’m 28 years old now; I’ve been married to Don for four years. Two of them normal, two since the syndrome started.

I’d been a cheerleader in high school, and in college. Our football team had played in major bowl games in both my junior and senior years in college. You might have seen me on television. I’d never been all that into sex before. I hadn’t even masturbated until I was in college. Even though Don and I had been married for two years and had made love a lot, I’d only come a few times.

At first Don didn’t seem to mind much. Why should he? I was a male wet dream. But after a while the situation lost its charm for him. That’s when he started to play games on me. For instance, before he’d fuck me, he started to make me do things. Nothing strange, at least not at the beginning, but pretty soon he realized that I’d do just about anything, particularly if he wanted it done at the right time of the month.

I thought nothing of his orders to get naked first and show him my pussy. That’s what I wanted to do anyway. But his first strange request was for me to get on the web and find him a good video to watch first, and to do it naked. Of course, I had no idea where to start, but after a few days I was cruising the porno sites like a pro. During the day I’d be watching a lot of interesting things, getting ideas, always in this constant state of arousal.

I watched little snatches of videos of women with men, women with many men, women with men with huge penises, women with women, women with animals, women in chains. It all turned me on even further.

Everyday I’d download the best videos and show them to Don when he came home. Trying to turn him on, turning to get him to fuck me. One day I downloaded one of the BDSM videos, a woman who is being tortured by a man. I was standing behind Don as he watched the video, naked of course. He watched the video, turned to me, and grasped my left nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pulled me to him. His rough touch, so unlike the way he normally touched me, caused me to come.

“OOOhhh god, Don…..”

“You like this stuff Mia?” he asked me.

“I like anything that might turn you on,” I answered almost crying.

“Do you want me to torture you like that?” he asked.

“I’m so sorry I’m like this, Don. I’m so sorry. You know I’ll do anything you want me to do,” was all I could get out. Shame washed over me in waves. I was revolted with myself, and the disgust turned me on even more.

His hand traveled down to my pussy, spreading my lips, feeling how completely wet I was.

“How about where he calls her his slut because her cunt is so wet?” Don asked sinking three fingers inside of me.

“Oh yes,” I moaned. As my humiliation grew, so did my arousal.

“Are you my slut Mia?” he asked, his fingers pumping in and out of me, causing my orgasm to intensify.

I hated the word “slut.” I had always despised it, now it was exciting me. The feeling of debasement was making me come harder. I had been reduced to a slut.

“Ohhhh yessss,” I moaned louder.

“Tell me Mia. Tell me you’re my slut now,” his fingers where pumping hard, I could see the large bulge of his cock. This was exciting him. I wanted that cock, I’d do anything to get it.

“Oh yes Don. I’m your slut! I’ll be anything you want. I’ll be your whore, anything,” it was hard for me to talk coming as hard as I was, but I wanted his cock, and a part of my brain was saying: “how much more of a slut can you become anyway?”

He pulled his fingers away from me, leaving me panting.

“Prove it,” he said.

My mind went blank. How could I prove this?

“What do you want me to do, Don? I’ll do anything.” He just looked at me.

“Do you want to tie me up like in the video. You can Don. You can do anything. I mean it,” I was so desperate.

“Go in the other room,” he ordered. “Come back in here in 5 minutes with your proof,” he turned back to the computer, his cock obviously huge inside his pants, watching the torture video again.

I stumbled from the room, confused. On the edge of orgasm again, as I always was now. It took me only 4 minutes to reenter the room. When Don turned to look at me what he saw was his wife with clothespins on each nipple and two on her labia. Written on her stomach (very poorly written since I’d had to do it in a mirror with magic marker) were the words: ‘Don’s slut.’

I was still coming from the effect of snapping the last clothespin on my labia. I had actually snapped it on twice because of the intensity of the feeling.

I was humiliated standing there. Embarrassed at how I must look, and at my obvious need.

I moan loudly as he pulled and twisted the clothespins, the feel of the sharp pain was exquisite. He freed his cock from his pants, a hard throbbing need. It pulsed with his heartbeat and I came just from looking at it.

“Please fuck me Don,” I begged.

“I’ll tell you when you’re going to get fucked Mia,” was his answer.

“Oh yes, Don.”

He first bent me over his chair my ass high in the air. I gasped, and came, as he roughly shoved his cock inside me. I continued to come as he pulled the clothespins on my nipples and on my labia, the rough treatment blending with the pounding of his cock inside me, setting me off over and over again.

The feel of his come inside me was wonderful, and frustrating. Wonderful because of the hot pumping feel of his cock, knowing he was coming, using my pussy. Frustrating because I needed more, I wanted him to keep fucking me.

I moaned my frustration, but he didn’t seem to care. I think he was beyond that now.

Everything changed after that. Don would call up during the day and have me masturbate for him over the phone. He used just about everything in the house that was roughly cock shaped to fuck me. He videotaped me, took pictures of me, recorded my moans. He tied me up and used the clothespins some more. He called me names and made me humiliate myself by answering to them. He used his fist on me. He used my asshole.

I didn’t care what he did, how humiliated he made me, as long as he would fuck me, or make me come enough that I could rest for awhile. One night he tied me up and used duct tape to secure a large electric vibrator to my clit. He left the room after turning on the machine and went to watch TV. An hour later, when he came back in, I was still coming, crying from the intensity, the sheets under me soaked through into the mattress.

He took me out one night to have my nipples pierced. Naturally I came as the procedure was done, much to the enjoyment of the three men looking on. As I came and they watched I noticed that Don had a massive erection. Putting me on display turned him on.

The piercing was done in the back of a tattoo parlor on the edge of downtown. A seedy looking storefront with the windows painted so you couldn’t see in, or out. When we walked in the two employees where working on a huge guy with a beard, putting a tattoo on his chest in an area that looked like the only place left that didn’t have a tattoo already.

Don had made me masturbate in the car the entire way, but had promised to punish me if I actually came. Naturally it was impossible for me not to come, so he announced that my punishment would consist of having my nipples pierced. I didn’t protest, in some ways I was beyond caring what happening to me, as long as I came enough every day.

The artist, I guess that’s the best word, who wasn’t working on the big bearded guy asked what we wanted. My husband said that we’d come to have his wife’s nipples pierced. Without batting an eye the guy told us the price, and pulled out a box of rings and studs to choose from. Don made his selection and I sat down in the chair.

I was only wearing a dress, nothing under it, and Don unzipped my dressed and instructed me to pull the dress down and “show the nice man my tits.”

Just the act of bearing myself to a stranger was enough, but the man was busy with his tools and didn’t notice my almost silent orgasm. Don noticed though.

My nipples where hard, and when he pulled on the left one in preparation for the piercing even I noticed that I was breathing hard and starting to moan. He looked up at me a little funny, but continued to hold my nipple while he turned away to get his tools. After disinfecting my nipple he pierced me and I came, very loudly.

At first I think he was afraid that he’d really hurt me, but when he realized I was just coming, and coming very hard, he just smiled and watched me. Of course, by that time everybody was watching me.

“If she liked that so much, maybe we should pierce her clit too,” the man said to Don.

“Maybe we should,” Don answered. “Honey, take your dress all the way off in case I decide to have your clit pierced,” he ordered me.

I stood and did as he had directed me. Not in a stripper fashion, I just let my dress fall to the floor and sat back down again. I didn’t want to stand too much, my pussy was dripping down my leg.

This time the man caressed my nipple, pulled it and teased it, before finally piercing me. When he did I came even harder than before. When I opened my eyes all four men were staring at me, all with obvious hard-ons.

Turning to Don the man said, “piercin’s free if you let me fuck her.” His hand was still on my breast, caressing me now.

“I’d pay for some of that pussy,” added the big guy.

I was afraid then, scared of what might happen, but very excited.

While they were looking at me my hands were clenched between my thighs, the sides of my little fingers pushed hard against my slit. I was panting, my eyes half-closed as I continued to come. I hadn’t been a virgin when we’d married, Don was the third man I’d slept with, and it was looking like I was going to double that number in just a few minutes.

My legs spread wide, almost of their own accord. The men’s eyes immediate shot to my pussy.

“Nope. Not tonight guys,” Don said grabbing my hand. Now Don isn’t a small guy or I think things might have gotten out of hand. He pulled me out of the tattoo parlor naked, just holding my dress.

Four blocks later Don pulled the car over quickly unzipped his pants freeing his hard cock. He couldn’t wait any longer as he pulled me over the center console and slid inside me.

“You’d have fucked them wouldn’t you, slut?” he asked me.

I was panting, fucking his cock as hard as I could. Loving the feel of him inside me, loving the feel of the new rings in my nipples, the ache of the fresh piercing.

“Oh yes Don. Yes. I’d have fucked them. You know I would. Anything for you,” It took me a long time to get this all out.

That started a new passion for Don. The passion of exposing me to other people. He started playing these games where he would have me do things where I was sure to be seen.

For instance, he ordered me to wear a sweater with a low scooped front and no bra, and go to the grocery store. I waited in an aisle until a man was very near to me and then bent forward, as though looking for something on the bottom shelve. Acting totally unaware that my sweater had fallen forward exposing my breasts.

I had masturbated twice in the car on the way to the grocery story, and once in the ladies room, so the faint sound of the man catching his breath when he saw me was enough to put me at the edge of orgasm.

I turned my head to look up at him, my breasts still totally exposed. His face was a little red and his eyes were wide. I smiled at him and looked down at my own tits then looked back up at him and smiled again. I had noticed that my nipples were very hard. I wanted him to fuck me. I was really hoping that he’d take me by the hand and lead me somewhere where he could fuck me.

I let me eyes travel down his body to his crotch, where his rising erection was clearly visible.

“My back is starting to hurt a little,” I said smiling. “But since you’re enjoying the view so much I’ll stay like this for a while more.”

He suddenly looked very embarrassed, turned and walked off, almost running to get away from me.

I was disappointed, but Don had ordered me to do one more thing for him. I walked to the produce section, picked up a cucumber that looked about right, and quickly shoved it up my pussy by reaching under my skirt. I looked around then as I held on to the produce counter so that I didn’t fall during my orgasm. Nobody was looking at me.

“Would you have fucked him?” Don asked as he worked the cucumber in and out of me. I had had to keep it inside the entire way home, the feeling of fullness and the initial coolness causing me feel like I was being fucked the entire time.

“Oh yes. Oh god yes,” was my only answer.

Nothing ever happened during my public displays. After a while I would have fucked anybody who had asked. All sense of pride was gone, all I could think about was my pussy. The syndrome was getting worse all the time now. I didn’t know how it could, but it did. Days would go by when I couldn’t get out of bed, my hands and the toys that Don had bought for me, in constant contact with my pussy.

It was a September when Don announced that we were taking a trip to Las Vegas. I could not imagine how we were going to that, how could I sit on an airplane for several hours?

Don hadn’t fucked me in a couple of months by that time. He’d send me out to expose myself then either tie me up and use his toys on me, or have me masturbate for his amusement with ever-stranger items. The last time before the trip he had me go into the backyard of our house, naked at night, and masturbate with the handle of the lawn rake.

The very depravity of the acts he was making me do caused me to reach ever-higher levels of excitement. I would beg him to order me to do something, I didn’t care what it was, the higher the level of excitement the better the orgasms. And the better the orgasms the longer the rest period before I needed it again.

I thought I had descended as far I could go when he shaved me. The humiliation of that experience took the last bit of shame I had. He didn’t just have me shave myself, nor did he sit me down and shave me. That would have been too simple and I would have been able to retain some dignity. Instead he led me into the backyard again, (which is pretty private – but still!) he had me lie on the ground in the grass and, keeping my shoulders on the ground, lift my legs straight up into the air.

Here’s where he got inventive. He tied a rope to each ankle and tied the other end of the ropes to the crossbar on the old clothesline so that my legs where wide spread. Of course, I was dripping and the idea of being naked and exposed in the backyard cause me to start coming. He disappeared for a minute and when he returned I was moaning with my third orgasm.

My fourth started when the battery-powered electric razor started to trim the red hair from my pussy. I continued to come as he lathered me in warm water and started to shave my complete exposed crotch.

As I (more or less) hung there, upside down, he proceeded to shave every part of my pussy and asshole. When we got on the airplane a few hours later there was no hair on my body below my neck, and I was very sure that several of the neighbors had watched me being defoliated.

I was a long way from that innocent cheerleader by now. I sat as quietly as I could for the entire plane ride to Las Vegas, clutching the armrests, trying not to come. It was just a few days before I was scheduled to ovulate, so I had used a tampon and a panty liner to absorb all the wetness that streamed from me. In addition, I had wrapped a towel around my hips, under my dress, as extra protection. Still I leaked through and could smell my own pussy on the plane.