Conscious Cunt J Post 5

This post is in the CRUELTIES category. Don’t read it.

The fictional blog posts of a young woman who has accepted the suggestion of the man who uses her that she should record her journey as a ‘conscious cunt’— a woman working intentionally to continuously deepen her servitude, and at the same time ruthlessly to repress her sense of self and agency over her body, in particular its use and abuse.

In the Park

J didn’t manage to finish the account of that first day, so this is a continuation.

In the park, kneeling at his feet, J had been told to look for cocks that might fuck her. There were two older men on a bench nearby, and three younger men lounging about, tossing a ball up in the air a little further away.

The idea that any of these strangers might soon be fucking her, that she would offer herself to any of these men for fucking seemed utterly impossible. She couldn’t even imagine herself talking to them; suggesting it— let alone actually letting it happen.

He told J that old men were a harder prospect than young ones, for several reasons. Also, he said— all else being equal— larger groups— at least up to ten or so— were a better bet than smaller ones, since one or more of a larger group might say yes even when others refused; and, of course, there was the possibility of getting all of a larger group to say yes and getting gang-fucked— a big plus for a cunt, of course…

He said that since it was her first day, He would help— that J was to follow him.

J would have rather died, but, as He walked off, she realised that, since dying was not an option, being left on her own was worse, and trotted along to try to catch up with him as he walked toward the group of young men. They were big, muscled— athletes perhaps, laid back.

He greeted them casually, and then went straight to it, without any finesse at all;

“This used to be my girlfriend, but it’s decided to try and be nothing but cunt. It wants to be fucked— needs to be fucked, to be more accurate, and I don’t fancy fucking it right now. Do you guys want to take it over into those trees for half an hour or so while I listen to this podcast I’m trying to get to?”

The young men were stunned for a moment, but one of them recovered fast;

“You for real? She for real? That sounds fucked up, man.”

He shrugged at that, turned to J and said; “Give them the dress”. Which she could only do if she took it off; right there, in the middle of the park. Quiet it may have been— mid-morning, far from the kiddie and dog walker areas— but it was still an open grass area in a public park, in full daylight. She was wearing nothing underneath the skimpy little thing, nothing at all.

The suggestion had worked on the young men, though, and somehow there was an inevitability about it. This was it, being a cunt, living up to Principle One, getting cocks into her holes, and then, rather simply, the dress was in her hands, a tiny bundle, and the cool breeze was making her nipples pucker, and she was dying inside, and suddenly desperate— oh so desperate to be being fucked, to be unable to think, and she bit her lip and shimmied, blushing deeply, shaking her tits and wiggling her butt, mumbling; ‘Please … please?”

After that, it all went very quickly. The young men were as nervous as she was about her being naked, huddled around her and fast-walked her uphill and into the trees, them simply threw her down and began fucking her without a word being said to her— just lewd, crude jokes between them.

On her knees, one of them hammering into her pussy, doggy style, her tits jouncing wildly, working mainly to stop herself crying, knowing she was failing badly at being interesting cunt to fuck, not managing anything beyond providing a hole, she was almost overwhelmed by shame, almost collapsed.

But then she was hit in the face with a stiff, hot cock, and the phrase from the document came to her; ‘while any hole is not being fucked’. This was what it meant— her ass, too. Three holes— in theory all usable simultaneously. Right there, right then, she, J, was required, by her new life, to open her mouth and begin to service two cocks at the same time, one at each end.

The idea was so shocking that she forgot her shame, and, quite simply, did what she was required to do, appalled at what she had come to, but also, grateful, as the two boys rammed into her with renewed frenzy, incapable of matching their rhythms, and so throwing her off and around in wild syncopation, that this made it hard to think at all.

It went on, insane, rough, crude but not violent, no time to think or even feel; just accepting, just being used.

They were all done with her in ten minutes, took pictures of her with their phones, apparently heeding her weak pleas not to capture her face— which she buried into the grass, threw the dress onto her back, and left, rapidly, laughing and shouting, clearly as nervous as they were exhilarated.

Walking back across the grass to Him, the dress blotched with patches of damp come and sweat, J was shaking terribly, horribly, devastatingly shy— all but unable to face Him, only returning to Him because He was the closest thing there is to safety for her in this new life.

She couldn’t look him in the eye— hasn’t really been able to since. He’s commented on this approvingly. It was a fault in her, he thought, that she had not realised earlier that her status as cunt meant it was inappropriate to look into real people’s faces.

He took her home and whipped her, hard, on the ass and, for the first time ever, across her breasts, driving her mad with the awfulness of it. Nevertheless, she was glad of the scourging, the pain seeming to be her to be due for being such a slut. Then he fucked her ass, violently; his cock harder than ever, and she was pathetically pleased with herself, and thanked him abjectly for his help in getting her fucked by strangers.

The emotional fallout took days to process, and several times she contemplated dying.

Part of the purpose of these blogs, J imagines, is so that men can show them to their women— women they have been suborning, gaslighting— as He did with J when she was still a person. But he has agreed that J should be honest here, in her writing— that these pages should not be gaslighting, but be as real as possible.

So that it seems to be acceptable to say, if you are a woman, reading this, feeling seduced, as J was, by the apparent simplicity of a life as Conscious Cunt, think again. Owning nothing, having no responsibilities save to get cocks to come inside you, is not the way out you think it is.

It is a continuous agony.

One that is eating J alive. One from which the only way out is to be immolated by fucking. There is no way back— despite Him often reminding J that nothing holds her to these principles but herself and some paper thin minority culture norms, J knows that, without the framework of the Principles, and His Mentorship she would become nothing at all, with great rapidity.

J is still terrible at this blog thing. Still finding it awful to post pictures of herself, naked, where anyone can see them, to tell the real truth about her status.

But she is beginning to understand how writing, publishing, like this is important. Reading her own writing back to herself is terrible, gut wrenching and at the same time harshly useful.

Terrible, because she cannot help judging the pathetic slut who has made such terrible, terrible life choices, over and over.

Useful, because, having judged what J is, how degraded, how useless, the urgency, the importance, and the meaning of working harder at being useful cunt is intensified.

J supposes that really, she is gaslighting herself with these writings, brainwashing herself.

It doesn’t matter. J doesn’t matter. She’s already nothing.

A performance table

J saw this on the journal page of another Cunt’s blog, and has copied it. Mentor suggested adding the ‘How J can do better’ report at the end. Doing this made J cry. J forced herself to stop crying by pinching her labia, and then her clitoris, very hard, using her nails.

How this cunt measures up— 1 (Cocks that have fucked J since last post— since this is the first time J has done this, her Mentor suggested another table below this one)

How this cunt measures up— 2 (showing cocks since her first day as acknowledged conscious Cunt. It’s an estimate, because J wasn’t properly keeping count at the start)

• In order to improve: J should find ways to make herself available to more men.

  • She will ask her Mentor to help with this.
    

• J knows that too much come is being spilt outside her body. She understands that the best male orgasms tend to result in uncontrollable coming inside the hole that is being fucked. Come outside the body indicates that she is failing to give pleasing enough experiences to cocks that are pushed into her.

  • J will work harder at her Kegels and other exercises, and at making her throat more pleasurable for cocks raping her throat.

Look here for the Conscious Cunt Principles that J has accepted should define her and completely govern her existence.

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