Misty's Need Ch. 06

All of that being true Misty wondered why, as she so often did, were her needs and her hungers, so much different from everyone else's. She wondered, as she had spent her entire lifetime wondering, why she was, as she was.

Why, Misty wondered, would she picture herself on her wedding day, wearing nothing but white heels, white stockings, and a white garter belt? A matching white collar around her neck, being led down the aisle, on her hand and knees, leashed like a dog? Her tits, pussy, and ass on full view to all her husband's guests? Why she wondered did she picture herself this way when she and her sister were young, whenever her sister would talk about her own dream wedding and the spectacular wedding dress she would wear?

Girls in school would chatter about their dream weddings, and the fantasy honeymoons that would follow. Making soft and gentle love to their new husbands in the most exotic of locales. She could never share it with the other girls of course, but at those times, when she pictured her own fantasy honeymoon she was bent over the foot of a bed, unable to move because her arms were bound out in front of her, and her feet were tied off to the bedposts. Her panties were shoved into her mouth and her new husband was standing behind her with his hard cock in one hand and a thick leather belt in the other.

Her friends would talk about fantasy husbands who would nibble on their necks, caress their bodies with kisses. Her friends never knew it, but Misty would dream of a fantasy husband who would share her with all of his buddies. Insist that she suck him and his friends off while they watched football on the TV.

How could it be, Misty wondered, that when her siblings were young and had misbehaved, they got depressed about being grounded? Misty got depressed when she was punished too, but not because she was grounded, rather because she thought the punishment was absurd.

Misty pictured herself standing with her nose in a corner of the room, her hands clasped together behind her head. Her shorts and panty were pulled down to her knees putting her bottom on full display. It was swollen, bright red, and feeling as if it were on fire. She pictured her beautiful mother behind her, sternly lecturing her about her behavior, one finger pointed at Misty's face to punctuate her words, the other hand holding a huge wooden paddle.

For her entire childhood that is how Misty wanted to be punished. That to her was punishment, anything else was a joke. She remembered that once she had actually spoken up about it. She had done something wrong, she couldn't remember what it had been, but she distinctly remembered her dad asking her in exasperation 'just what am I to do with you little lady? That one and only time she had actually responded. She told him that he needed to make her drop her pants, then go over his knee for a spanking hard enough that she wouldn't do it again.

Her dad had thought that she was making a joke. She remembered that he thought her suggestion was so funny that he actually forgot that he was mad at her for whatever she had done. He told her mom and the two of them had laughed over 'Misty's joke' for years to come.

Misty did truly love her parents, and knew that they loved her but somehow, in the deepest recesses of her being, Misty knew that for her love wasn't enough. She needed to love her parents, but she needed to fear them as well. Misty didn't know why, but she recognized that she needed to live with fear, a lingering sense of dread even, if she was going to lead a fulfilling life emotionally.

Misty thought that love made her parents care for her, but that their unwillingness to inspire fear within her meant that their love for her was limited. They gave her a curfew when she was in high school. She often violated it. When she did, they lectured her or gave her some meaningless punishment, both of which made her feel that they didn't really care about the curfew, or by extension, her. Misty thought that if after the first time she broke curfew they paddled her bottom so hard that every other time she went out in the evening she remembered that paddling and was afraid of getting another, well then she would have truly felt loved and cared for.

When she was a teenager Misty's mom was forever harping on her to keep her room clean. Misty never did, but that harping was as far as it ever went, so Misty wondered how much her mom truly cared about anything Misty did, or if she really cared about her at all. It seemed to Misty that if the slightest mess in her room resulted in her spending her weekend locked into a small dog cage, well then she would take care to always keep her room perfect; she would be sitting in school worried over the fact that she might have missed something. She would have always been able to hold a touch of fear in her chest because her mom would have truly been focused on her, because her mom would have shown that she truly cared how Misty kept her room, and loved her enough to force the issue.

Misty understood that different people needed to have love for them expressed in different ways in order for them to actually feel that they were loved. She knew that in order to feel love from someone in her life, she needed to feel them exercising control over her, and in order to truly feel their love she needed them to force her compliance.

To Misty's understanding, if someone truly loved her they would care about who she was and what she did. If they loved her enough they would care so much that they would make certain that she became, and did, only what they wanted. They would craft her into exactly what they wanted her to be, require her to act exactly how they wanted her to act.

If they truly loved her the slightest flash of disobedience would be severely punished, for if they loved her enough they would want to exercise absolute control over her. Low grade, constant fear would then be her companion, and as Misty equated control, force, and fear with being loved, she would indeed feel loved through experiencing it.

While she was, at least in part able to understand her own hungers, Misty was completely unsure as to why other people in her life, people in authority over her, prevented themselves from wanting to exercise that authority in a real way. She couldn't understand why her mother wouldn't want to simply paddle Misty's ass when she neglected to do her chores. It seemed to Misty doing so would be much easier, and more effective, than dreaming up elaborate rules for her grounding. Why did society find it acceptable for her history teacher to assign her an extra paper to write about the Civil War when he caught her and her friends passing notes, and not find it acceptable for him to simply hold her back after class, bend her over his desk, and give her bottom a good thrashing? Misty understood that her needs were so far outside of the mainstream as to be almost unrecognizable, but she had never been able to understand why.

"Lost in thought pet?" Valentina asked softly.

Startled back to the present, Misty looked up and saw that their waiter had returned.

"Yes, I'm sorry Goddess." Misty answered.

"Don't be sorry, your thoughts are delicious." Valentina answered with a smile.

Misty smiled back at her, pleased to be making Valentina happy.

Valentina ordered a big and bold red wine to go with their dinner, a full serving for herself, again a half serving for Misty. She then turned her attention to ordering an entree.

"I seem to recall that in one of your messages to me, you stated that you prefer your steak to be cooked well done. Is that right pet?" Valentina asked.

"Yes Goddess. Any blood kind of squicks me." Misty replied.

Valentina turned her attention back to the waiter. "Rib Eye steak, rare. For each of us." She ordered.

The waiter glanced at Misty and she saw pity in his eyes, but he said to Valentina, "Very good Ma'am." Before walking away.

Valentina reached a hand out to Misty, and pulled the girl into herself, allowing Misty's head the rest upon her inner thigh. Misty relaxed into her, relishing the touch.

"Opinions are interesting things Misty." Valentina said. "Everyone has them, it is how people go through life. One person has an opinion that steak is best well done, another that it should be served rare. Who to vote for, what car to drive, how to decorate a room. Opinions are everywhere. Even the big things. Gay or straight, clitoral or g-spot orgasm, a cute little butt plug or a huge piece of rubber as large as a fist. Even within you my dear, opinions swirl, dictating your choices."

She felt the girl's slight movements against her thigh. Misty was nuzzling her cheek against Valentina's leg.

"I need you to remember something though. I need you to remember, to understand, and accept, that you are no longer permitted to have any opinions of your own. I want you to think of yourself as an empty vessel. Devoid of opinion or preference. Just be empty for me. When I think that you need to have an opinion, don't worry, I'll tell you what your opinion is going to be. Just like now. You don't prefer your steak to be cooked well done, you prefer it served rare. You crave the blood and juices of the meat. That is your opinion. Do you understand what I'm telling you?" Valentina asked.

"Yes Goddess, I do understand. I don't know how to block everything like that out of my mind, but I'll work on it. I'll do my best to make myself into an empty vessel for you, so that you can fill me back up, recreate me, according to your own whim." Misty said.

"Good girl." Valentina said.

"Goddess?" Misty asked.

"Yes my pet." Valentina cooed.

"When the waiter looked at me just now, there was pity in his eyes. I hate that, and I don't understand that. I could understand it if he looked at me with disgust, here I am, a seemingly free adult woman, intentionally degrading myself. I could also understand if he looked at me in horror, a subconscious fear of becoming what I am. I can't understand pity though. Why anyone should pity me. I'm proud to be here at your feet. Thrilled to be so close to you. Thankful beyond belief that you took the time to decide how I should be dressed, even that you spent the effort you did teaching me how to eat your toilet paper. I wish people could see that..." Misty trailed off.

"Oh, pet, I do hope that you won't worry about other people. Compared to us, other people are nothing. We, you and I, each in our own way, are unique. Perfectly unique. I am of course, what I am. A true Goddess within a world of mortals. As for you, you my pet are a shockingly beautiful woman, with the most depraved mind that I have ever encountered. Interesting. You are vastly interesting in a world in which everyone else is the same." Valentina replied.

The words had a soothing effect on Misty and Valentina felt the girl's body relax a bit more into her leg.

"You are motivated by and obsessed with sex, yet you have remained a virgin well into your mid twenties. Lust is your dominant drive, overwhelming you at times, yet you have never used any of the myriad sex toys available out there to pleasure yourself. Your pussy is wet constantly, dripping, crying out for your attention, yet you have never even slid your own finger inside of it, never even allowed your fingertips to caress it unless there was a panty in place to prevent skin on skin contact." Valentina continued.

"Yes Goddess. For you." Misty said dreamily.

"Yes, for me. You have kept your body completely pure, un-penetrated in any way, all because you believe that it belongs to someone else. That your pussy, your tits, your ass, your mouth, none of you belongs to you. You firmly believe that if your fingertips caressed the bare skin of your slit, you would be violating the property of another, trespassing, stealing what does not belong to you. Even though you had never met this other person. Even though you had given up all hope of ever meeting this other person." Valentina said.

"Yes Goddess, but then I found you." Misty said, intense joy obvious in her tone.

"Just so you know, I've decided that I'm going to keep you as a virgin. Nothing will penetrate your pretty little pussy lips. Not me, not you, nothing. I might eventually take your virginity, or I might leave you that way forever. For now though, know that a virgin you shall remain. Also to remain is your inability to caress yourself unless there is a panty covering your soft flesh. You are to never allow so much as the tiny tip of a single one of your fingers to enter between your lips, let alone penetrate inside. Understand?" Valentina asked.

"Yes Goddess. I'll keep myself pure for you, just as I always have." Misty promised.

"I know you will pet. But rest assured that you will not be pure. Just because I'm keeping your virginity intact doesn't mean that I won't be fucking you." Valentina said with a chuckle.

She watched as Misty looked up in confusion at her words.

"Don't be confused little pet. You'll be fucked lots, just not in your pretty little pussy. You'll spend countless hours whimpering as I work to help you understand all the sensations, joys, and terrors of receiving painful anal." Valentina explained.

She felt Misty melt back into her thigh, and heard the soft moan of delight that escaped from her lips.

"On your hands and knees, bent over a table or a desk, strapped down spread eagled on a bed, bound into a sling your legs held high in the air, details, all are details, and none matter. What matters is that you will dance. You will dance on the head of my hard rubber cock as I force it into your tight ass. What matters are your whimpers of pain, your moans of pleasure, and the delightful mixture of the two. What matters are your tears. What matters is your humiliation, your degradation. What matters most of all is the continual denial of any experience of the pleasures that come from having ones pussy used, all while your poor ass faces continual assault as my own personal anal only slut." Valentina said.

Valentina knew that Misty was turned on, turned on almost to an uncontrollable point. The words she was speaking were pushing the girl's lust to ever-higher levels.

"See how easy this is? You have three opinions now. You love your steak served rare, you adore being a virgin, and you delight in being on the receiving end of rough anal sex." Valentina said.

"Yes Goddess." Misty answered while a shiver of joy coursed through her body.

"Tell me your opinions, repeat them to me, in your own words, as if you know them to be 100% true and completely natural for you." Valentina ordered.

"My mouth waters whenever I see, and smell, a beautiful rare steak. I delight at seeing all the juices run from it as I cut into it, and I can't wait to get each bite into my mouth so that I can savor it. I don't own my cunt; I've never owned my cunt. It belongs to another, wait, no, not another, my cunt belongs to Valentina. I love touching it through my panties, because that is OK with her, but I would never dream touching it without having that barrier between it and my fingers. I would never dream of allowing my finger to slip into the moist crack between its lips, never dream or allow myself to violate Valentina by penetrating myself. I love being a virgin, because Valentina wants me to be a virgin." Misty began.

"Good, continue." Valentina responded.

"I adore receiving anal sex. All kinds of anal sex, but the more degrading it is the more I love it. The more humiliating it is, the more I crave it. The more painful it is, the more I need it. I live to have Valentina's hard rubber dildos driven up my ass." Misty concluded.

"Very good my pet. Aren't you glad that I've given you some opinions now?" Valentina said with a laugh.

"Yes Goddess, I love them." Misty replied, excitement evident in her voice.

"Even the rare steak?" Valentina asked, truly curious.

Misty thought for a moment. "Yes Goddess." She began before thinking for a few more seconds. "I'm a little afraid of how my body might involuntarily react, how I might gag or something, but to be completely honest, I've been craving it ever since you ordered it. I want it, I need it, even the blood and the juices. I guess because I know that feeding it to me will make you happy, and making you happy is all I can care about."

"Good girl." Valentina replied, very pleased with Misty's answer to her question.

At that moment, their meal arrived. Valentina savored a long, slow sip of her wine, and fed some of Misty's to her, but she pushed the entree aside. She wasn't interested in feeding Misty just now, for she had another question burning within her mind. She also knew that if the steak got cold it would be that much more revolting in Misty's mouth, and she took some delight in knowing that she would realize that tiny cruelty.

Misty had assumed that they would begin eating, but instead was met with a question.

"Ever since you first contacted me, I have invaded your mind. Looked at your thoughts. That has taught me more about you than you can imagine, but it doesn't teach me everything. For example, I knew from your thoughts that you believed yourself to be a virgin, that you weren't lying about no one, not even yourself, ever being allowed to directly caress your little pussy. I couldn't however know if your hymen was still intact, couldn't know, because you couldn't know. Not for certain anyway. Hence I sent the doctor to check things out. Does that make sense?" Valentina asked.

"Yes Goddess, I understand what you are saying." Misty assured her.

"Good. So when I look at your thoughts, I see a myriad of them, going back to your earliest childhood, all about an imaginary husband. How badly he treats you in your imagination. I see you, in your thoughts, living in a house, trapped in a house really, beaten, cheated on, abused, living with a monster who can't control his rage. Yet I also see you, in your thoughts, masturbating while lying on the floor, curled into a ball, having just suffered a beating. Masturbating in your bed because you know that he is out fucking some slut, and that all your friends know about it. I see you opening your mouth for this imaginary man's cock, spreading your legs for him, not because he forces you, not because you feel it is your duty, but because you are grateful for him, because you want to be filled, used really, by a man who abuses you. Those kinds of thoughts seem to be your very oldest fantasies, the base for all the others perhaps." Valentina said.

"Yes." Misty said, almost breathless as she relived her fantasies through Valentina's words.

Without expecting it Misty received an extremely hard slap across the face. The fact that her head was resting upon Valentina's thigh prevented it from spinning away from the blow, increasing its intensity. The slap was hard enough to be clearly heard throughout the restaurant, as was Misty's cry of pain and surprise.

"Yes Goddess." Valentina demanded, having forcefully gotten Misty's attention.

"Yes Goddess. I'm sorry Goddess. It just slipped, I didn't mean too." Misty's words came out in a rush.

"Good. Don't forget again." Valentina ordered.

"Yes Goddess." Misty replied, looking up at Valentina.

Valentina was pleased to see tears welling in the girl's eyes. She reached her mind into Misty's and learned that the tears were less for the pain of the slap, more for Misty's sorrow at disappointing her. Valentina was pleased.

"Yet on the other hand, when I look at other thoughts, thoughts that came later, many of them contain women. I see you bound to a bed, spread-eagled, face up. I see a beautiful imaginary woman, sitting on that pretty face of yours, forcing you to lick and eat her ass as she beats your pussy with a belt. I see you in the library where you work, dressed as a little catholic schoolgirl, your skirt hiked up and your panty down around your ankle as another woman, your imaginary new boss, canes your cute little ass. I see you, as a teenager, and I think this actually happened, I don't think it's imaginary, going to a party at a girl's house, not just any girl, but a girl who bullied you a bit, who picked on you. I see you sneaking up into her room, finding her dirty clothes hamper in her closet, and I see you digging through it to find her panties, searching for them so that you could savor their scent." Valentina said.