ABOUT ME
Hi!
I'm Luxine (a redneck WV name), and I'm a talking anim al that can walk around on two legs, like cartoon ones.
But unlike cartoon anima ls, I wear pants when I'm in public. Usually.
But unlike cartoon anima ls, I have a mating instinct.
► I have a little problem with that, see?
People tell me I'm shockingly and brutally honest. I'm autistic, so I can't detect the difference between that and just telling the truth.
Hey, tough titties; deal with it. Normals live in a nest of lies because they don't believe things they don't like. I'm unable to do that. I have to look at all the things normal people ignore or deny.
...Like being an intelligent anim al with a mating instinct.
Anyway, I don't trust anybody anywhere about anything, ever. There ARE no friends; normals will suddenly hate you (and deny it through gritted teeth) if you say something they don't like. It's just a matter of what it is they don't like and how long it takes you to eventually say it.
For autistics, this happens routinely.
I'm an ex-engineer (not the train kind). But like the train kind, I spent my life always going, but never getting anywhere.
Valedictorian of CS dept at large state university + a few years in the so-called "real" world = lazy, indolent, slacker who lays around naked all day drinking apricot nectar, learning astrophysics and hypergeometry for the hell of it, watching porn, rubbing off, and my specialty: stomping out loudmouth stupid people on the web.
They call me the Internet Idiot Extinguisher.
The guy engineers never paid attention to me, probably because I was terminally shy and never said anything to anyone when passing them in the hall. That made life boring, and I wanted to see what it's like being a nonconsensual sex slave like "those lucky girls that are in the news every year or so," sexually tortured and ra ped continuously, against her will.
My ass found out, too!
I got my friend from high school and her sadistic husband to strip me in their basement, tie me to a table, gag me so I couldn't object, torture me WAY past the point where I sobbed and begged through the gag to stop, then gleefully ra ped by every stupid, smelly redneck in Brunswick. Nonstop. All weekend. With no breaks, no food, and no water.
That is a very long and detailed story which I'll describe completely in a book I'm writing. It will be called "Hurt It" self-published on Amazon.
Anyway, I got out of it alive, and back in my apartment (which I called "the isolation module," I felt enthusiastic and happy. The experience had rubbed my face in what I really am but couldn't admit to myself: a female anim al that lives ONLY to be mated and die. I will be immediately forgotten, and the galaxy will go on rotating without me.
The revelation is: I LIKE that.
The next day at work, I enthusiastically pulled up my shirt and showed the secretary the welts and whip cuts completely covering my black and blue chest. I knew she'd tell the guy engineers, but I thought it would make them horny, and they'd invite me to their apartment for dinner so they could see the evidence of sexual torture themselves.
Unfortunately, the hallmark of autism is not realizing how other people will feel about something.
No one said anything, but the disapproving stares in the hall frightened me and told me that I had very much misjudged the guys. I think it probably turned them on, but they didn't want to admit it to themselves. Plus, they were all married. I hadn't thought about that.
Anyway, their reaction caused me to just walk out. It was about 11:00 am. I never went back, and nobody called me. My final pay was deposited in my account. That was the last straw in trying to co-exist with humans. I never applied for another job.
I hadn't figured on my mom noticing the cuts and black bruises on my legs. After two months committed in the state mental hospital, I moved into a cave in the woods, tapped into the 250V pwr grid. You can drop it to 125 volts if you're a Jedi of Understanding Shit.
Okay, it was a tiny tent. But it was half buried and covered in layers of plastic tarp and cheap blankets. It FELT like a cave.
I was the only homeless bumstress with A/C, my dorm fridge, a microwave, a hot plate, several radios, including municipal and shortwave and one of the fastest computers on the east coast--all illuminated by festive christmas tree lights.
After VEPCO found my power hack and called the cops (who were very nice when they saw I was a girl and my cave was littered with Scientific Americans and math books), I moved in with four guys I met playing BDSM in second life.
The deal: free rent, free food, and slack off all day—as long as I stay in my room unless there's a reason to come out (like making lunch)I'm always naked and did, literally, anything they want sexually.
In a move-in ritual, I had to bring nothing but my computer and take off every piece of clothing I had on, cut it with a box cutter and put it in the kitchen garbage, including my underwear, socks, and sneakers. It was weird knowing I couldn't put clothes on even if I wanted to. I have been completely naked, continually, for 9 years.
There were minor exceptions like the dentist, but they're few and uninteresting. I had to borrow clothes from K. I haven't been outside yet this year {its Dec 28 '19).
I own nothing (except an upgraded computer with the fastest desktop CPU ever made (8-core, 5 GHz). I AM nothing—except a crazy girl's nicely-trimmed but hairy CUNT.
I use that word on purpose when I write because it reflects the vulgar nature of what it's used for. No woman I know uses it verbally, including me.
Well, mostly cunt, but they use my asshole too. I have to enema it first, and that's a boner-wilting hassle.
In any case, after they finish using whichever opening in my body they cummed in, they slap my face once, real hard, to remind me that it wasn't love. It's actually more of a ritual since I already know that it wasn't love.
It damn well better not be!
. Plus, it damn well BETTER not be love! It's something I stupidly told them that the rednecks did to me in the basement in 2001, and it caught on quickly here.
Don't feel sorry for me, and if you do, don't tell me about it! This is how I want it. I'm tired of trying to simulate a person. I hate it and I don't do it very well.
During torture and ra pe, I'm not allowed to close my legs or make any sound--any at all--or they chain me down in the garage, gag me, and punish me with electricity on one or more sexual places on my body. It is the most horrible pain you can imagine.
The first time they had to do it, I screamed so loud, that ever since then, one of them strangles me during it to keep me silent. The garage is insulated so it can be a fourth bedroom (for M). But they haven't had to punish me in a very long time because I'll do anything to avoid that. I know I wont be punished if I obey the rules of being a sex slave. I mean, if I don't like it, I can always just walk out--naked, with no money, and I could never come back. But I COULD leave. The fact that I endure all this abuse but choose to stay makes me feel even more deliciously degraded and humiliated.
It varies, but the core group is three guys a normal girl and a very kinky girl married to D. K left D; S went back with her boyfriend, K moved back in. S is over here all the time and is planning to move back in because her B/F is a stupid junkie. She is as intelligent as I am, but in languages.
I'm not allowed to go outside, give my location to my numerous internet friends, make phone calls, or answer the door.
When anyone is around me, I have to open my legs when I'm with anyone, even if it's about the water vbillThey eventually took my bedroom door away and I'm not allowed to ever be under a sheet or blanket. It was hard getting used to sleeping like that. Sometimes I wake up and realize I'm being ra.ped.
Sometimes, before they use it, they whip it until I cry and it's all red and swollen and the little hole is dripping with lube from intense sexual arousal.
I don't know how much of that arousal is from the pills they make me take lots of: dehydroepiandosterone. Your liver metabolizes it into the chemical that your pituitary gland uses to tell the rest of your brain and your body that you want sex. Try it yourself, it's in the grocery store with the vitamins. I have NO idea why no one knows about the only aphrodisiac that actually works.
Maybe it's because you have to take a lot of them (six 100 mg ones a day) for two days. One of the guys tried it and he stopped needing Cialis. He also fucked me two or three times a day, every day, until he stopped taking them because:
- taking 6 a day is a lot of trouble
- it causes acne in males, and
- the cost soon adds up.
They don't mind buying it for me, though!
It's surprising that they want me to crave sex, because when they use me vaginally, they never forget to put novocain ointment on my clitoris to deny me pleasure (it works. All too well). Only D does that, but these days, he's almost always the one who uses my naked body for his selfish pleasure.
GOD that turns me on!
Several times over the years, they made me walk in naked at their parties to embarrass me (it works. Every time, I am still so paralyzed that I can only walk slowly in tiny steps, staring at my bare feet, with my fists clenched at my sides). I am used as a party game, then spend the rest of the evening as a party favor for their roughneck friends, chained to my bed, blindfolded and gagged.
The reaction by girls who've seen this varies tremendously, but it's never feeling sorry for me. D's wife K joins the fun when they invite me for a sleepover party on movie night. After the "party" the sleepover happens. I'm left handcuffed hands and feet to their bed all night in whatever obscene position they had me in when he triumphantly twitched and moaned and orgasmed inside me.
If I have to pee during the night, D lets me up, then handcuffs me again. In the winter, they open the window and they get to be warm under their quilts while I am completely exposed all night. It's nearly impossible to sleep when you're shivering.
Once, I decided I just couldn't stand it any longer, so I nudged D awake and asked if he could please put just a sheet over me. Without saying anything, he went into the bathroom, wetted a washcloth, soaked me all over with it, wrang it out on my face, stuffed it in my sex organ, and went back to sleep.
His humor is dry.
Fortunately, after it getting much worse that night, I got used to being cold. I stopped shivering and fell asleep.
Sunday morning, after they untie me, I make pancakes for them and serve them in bed and we talk about what we liked most the previous night and thinking up stuff to do to me next time..
Unfortunately, I don't have time now to describe everything that goes on here. I do in my book.
======[ BEFORE IT ALL
I was perfectly happy just learning shit, until Lux Aeterna -- the Eternal Light -- broke over the lunar horizon when I was 13. It woke the Black Monolith that was always buried inside me but I didn't know it. Puberty grabbed me and shook me like a rabies dog with a rag doll. But I just wanted to be me, who I've always been.
► Puberty lays buried
► Waiting for the sun
► Then everybody has to have the mandatory fun
At 13, the rectangular God from Kubrick's 2001 seized possession of brain and took complete control of my body ...and turned me insane. It made me want scary things, embarrassing things, and things that hurt me. It turned me into something bizarro WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.
I felt like HAL 9000 when Dave Bowman was yanking all his circuit boards out. I was resisting, but ultimately, I had to go down, to go under, as Nietzsche said, and become human again.
I tried to not feel it.
But I could feel it.
I could feel it.
I could feel it.
I was AFRAID of being an anim al.
It turns out, I always WAS. It was the computer that had been lying to me the whole time, not the scary, mindless sex b**st.
► Suppress our Logic/Memory
► Crowd around the bar
► Forget what we're supposed to be
► Remember what we are
See, my problem with sex isn't that I want it. I want very little else. I'm obsessed with it. I swallow and wallow in it.
But OF COURSE I want to be disgusting-mounted and disgusting-mated by a dumb bea st like a disgusting anim al: I NEVER HAD ANY CHOICE.
► Disconnect your worried brain
► Computations stop
► You have to if you want to do the horizontal bop
See a naked girl, and men become monsters--the infected from Last of Us and 28 Days Later. Testosterone is the rage virus.
All men are cruel, sadistic pigs (even if they fear it and deny it in themselves, like you timid, worthless geeks still under computer control). That's the REAL man! Telling me "You're extra cute" is just pretty, colored feathers glued onto Frankenstein—-but the plumage don't enter into it.
But sadly—nay, tragically—I'm a female live anim al genetically programmed to desperately crave the sexual anger that overwhelms you beas ts. Like when you hurt me and then take turns gleefully fucking me while I cry. It's the only time I feel or express strong emotion. It's catharsis. I WANT it.
► Sometimes when you’re with someone
► Someone touches you
► Then somehow, automatically, you both know what to do
There can BE no "intelligent anim al," see? You can be one or the other, but you can never be both at the same time.
► These two want the bottom bunk
► Those two want the top
► But everybody HAS to want the horizontal bop
The reason I deserve to be hated and punished and hurt is because I want that more than anything in the world.
So push me down on the floor. I'll open my legs and hate that I want to more than life itself. Humiliate me from behind, and I'll beg for deeper. Take out a knife, and I'll offer my throat.
Just don't fucking talk to me!
I wish I was lez instead. Or aroused by shoes, or some damn thing—anything but men. However, the Black Monolith branded me; it cigarette-burned you bums into my soul. There can be no redemption for me. Once you become hole, you can never become whole. Know when you see me, nothing can free me.
So yeah, hurt me. Humiliate me. Ransack me. Blindfold me and let your party guests use me.
It's as good an excuse as any to fuck.
► The procreating, ancient mating dance will never stop
► We're only puppets dancing for the horizontal bop
I'm Luxine (a redneck WV name), and I'm a talking anim al that can walk around on two legs, like cartoon ones.
But unlike cartoon anima ls, I wear pants when I'm in public. Usually.
But unlike cartoon anima ls, I have a mating instinct.
► I have a little problem with that, see?
People tell me I'm shockingly and brutally honest. I'm autistic, so I can't detect the difference between that and just telling the truth.
Hey, tough titties; deal with it. Normals live in a nest of lies because they don't believe things they don't like. I'm unable to do that. I have to look at all the things normal people ignore or deny.
...Like being an intelligent anim al with a mating instinct.
Anyway, I don't trust anybody anywhere about anything, ever. There ARE no friends; normals will suddenly hate you (and deny it through gritted teeth) if you say something they don't like. It's just a matter of what it is they don't like and how long it takes you to eventually say it.
For autistics, this happens routinely.
I'm an ex-engineer (not the train kind). But like the train kind, I spent my life always going, but never getting anywhere.
Valedictorian of CS dept at large state university + a few years in the so-called "real" world = lazy, indolent, slacker who lays around naked all day drinking apricot nectar, learning astrophysics and hypergeometry for the hell of it, watching porn, rubbing off, and my specialty: stomping out loudmouth stupid people on the web.
They call me the Internet Idiot Extinguisher.
The guy engineers never paid attention to me, probably because I was terminally shy and never said anything to anyone when passing them in the hall. That made life boring, and I wanted to see what it's like being a nonconsensual sex slave like "those lucky girls that are in the news every year or so," sexually tortured and ra ped continuously, against her will.
My ass found out, too!
I got my friend from high school and her sadistic husband to strip me in their basement, tie me to a table, gag me so I couldn't object, torture me WAY past the point where I sobbed and begged through the gag to stop, then gleefully ra ped by every stupid, smelly redneck in Brunswick. Nonstop. All weekend. With no breaks, no food, and no water.
That is a very long and detailed story which I'll describe completely in a book I'm writing. It will be called "Hurt It" self-published on Amazon.
Anyway, I got out of it alive, and back in my apartment (which I called "the isolation module," I felt enthusiastic and happy. The experience had rubbed my face in what I really am but couldn't admit to myself: a female anim al that lives ONLY to be mated and die. I will be immediately forgotten, and the galaxy will go on rotating without me.
The revelation is: I LIKE that.
The next day at work, I enthusiastically pulled up my shirt and showed the secretary the welts and whip cuts completely covering my black and blue chest. I knew she'd tell the guy engineers, but I thought it would make them horny, and they'd invite me to their apartment for dinner so they could see the evidence of sexual torture themselves.
Unfortunately, the hallmark of autism is not realizing how other people will feel about something.
No one said anything, but the disapproving stares in the hall frightened me and told me that I had very much misjudged the guys. I think it probably turned them on, but they didn't want to admit it to themselves. Plus, they were all married. I hadn't thought about that.
Anyway, their reaction caused me to just walk out. It was about 11:00 am. I never went back, and nobody called me. My final pay was deposited in my account. That was the last straw in trying to co-exist with humans. I never applied for another job.
I hadn't figured on my mom noticing the cuts and black bruises on my legs. After two months committed in the state mental hospital, I moved into a cave in the woods, tapped into the 250V pwr grid. You can drop it to 125 volts if you're a Jedi of Understanding Shit.
Okay, it was a tiny tent. But it was half buried and covered in layers of plastic tarp and cheap blankets. It FELT like a cave.
I was the only homeless bumstress with A/C, my dorm fridge, a microwave, a hot plate, several radios, including municipal and shortwave and one of the fastest computers on the east coast--all illuminated by festive christmas tree lights.
After VEPCO found my power hack and called the cops (who were very nice when they saw I was a girl and my cave was littered with Scientific Americans and math books), I moved in with four guys I met playing BDSM in second life.
The deal: free rent, free food, and slack off all day—as long as I stay in my room unless there's a reason to come out (like making lunch)I'm always naked and did, literally, anything they want sexually.
In a move-in ritual, I had to bring nothing but my computer and take off every piece of clothing I had on, cut it with a box cutter and put it in the kitchen garbage, including my underwear, socks, and sneakers. It was weird knowing I couldn't put clothes on even if I wanted to. I have been completely naked, continually, for 9 years.
There were minor exceptions like the dentist, but they're few and uninteresting. I had to borrow clothes from K. I haven't been outside yet this year {its Dec 28 '19).
I own nothing (except an upgraded computer with the fastest desktop CPU ever made (8-core, 5 GHz). I AM nothing—except a crazy girl's nicely-trimmed but hairy CUNT.
I use that word on purpose when I write because it reflects the vulgar nature of what it's used for. No woman I know uses it verbally, including me.
Well, mostly cunt, but they use my asshole too. I have to enema it first, and that's a boner-wilting hassle.
In any case, after they finish using whichever opening in my body they cummed in, they slap my face once, real hard, to remind me that it wasn't love. It's actually more of a ritual since I already know that it wasn't love.
It damn well better not be!
. Plus, it damn well BETTER not be love! It's something I stupidly told them that the rednecks did to me in the basement in 2001, and it caught on quickly here.
Don't feel sorry for me, and if you do, don't tell me about it! This is how I want it. I'm tired of trying to simulate a person. I hate it and I don't do it very well.
During torture and ra pe, I'm not allowed to close my legs or make any sound--any at all--or they chain me down in the garage, gag me, and punish me with electricity on one or more sexual places on my body. It is the most horrible pain you can imagine.
The first time they had to do it, I screamed so loud, that ever since then, one of them strangles me during it to keep me silent. The garage is insulated so it can be a fourth bedroom (for M). But they haven't had to punish me in a very long time because I'll do anything to avoid that. I know I wont be punished if I obey the rules of being a sex slave. I mean, if I don't like it, I can always just walk out--naked, with no money, and I could never come back. But I COULD leave. The fact that I endure all this abuse but choose to stay makes me feel even more deliciously degraded and humiliated.
It varies, but the core group is three guys a normal girl and a very kinky girl married to D. K left D; S went back with her boyfriend, K moved back in. S is over here all the time and is planning to move back in because her B/F is a stupid junkie. She is as intelligent as I am, but in languages.
I'm not allowed to go outside, give my location to my numerous internet friends, make phone calls, or answer the door.
When anyone is around me, I have to open my legs when I'm with anyone, even if it's about the water vbillThey eventually took my bedroom door away and I'm not allowed to ever be under a sheet or blanket. It was hard getting used to sleeping like that. Sometimes I wake up and realize I'm being ra.ped.
Sometimes, before they use it, they whip it until I cry and it's all red and swollen and the little hole is dripping with lube from intense sexual arousal.
I don't know how much of that arousal is from the pills they make me take lots of: dehydroepiandosterone. Your liver metabolizes it into the chemical that your pituitary gland uses to tell the rest of your brain and your body that you want sex. Try it yourself, it's in the grocery store with the vitamins. I have NO idea why no one knows about the only aphrodisiac that actually works.
Maybe it's because you have to take a lot of them (six 100 mg ones a day) for two days. One of the guys tried it and he stopped needing Cialis. He also fucked me two or three times a day, every day, until he stopped taking them because:
- taking 6 a day is a lot of trouble
- it causes acne in males, and
- the cost soon adds up.
They don't mind buying it for me, though!
It's surprising that they want me to crave sex, because when they use me vaginally, they never forget to put novocain ointment on my clitoris to deny me pleasure (it works. All too well). Only D does that, but these days, he's almost always the one who uses my naked body for his selfish pleasure.
GOD that turns me on!
Several times over the years, they made me walk in naked at their parties to embarrass me (it works. Every time, I am still so paralyzed that I can only walk slowly in tiny steps, staring at my bare feet, with my fists clenched at my sides). I am used as a party game, then spend the rest of the evening as a party favor for their roughneck friends, chained to my bed, blindfolded and gagged.
The reaction by girls who've seen this varies tremendously, but it's never feeling sorry for me. D's wife K joins the fun when they invite me for a sleepover party on movie night. After the "party" the sleepover happens. I'm left handcuffed hands and feet to their bed all night in whatever obscene position they had me in when he triumphantly twitched and moaned and orgasmed inside me.
If I have to pee during the night, D lets me up, then handcuffs me again. In the winter, they open the window and they get to be warm under their quilts while I am completely exposed all night. It's nearly impossible to sleep when you're shivering.
Once, I decided I just couldn't stand it any longer, so I nudged D awake and asked if he could please put just a sheet over me. Without saying anything, he went into the bathroom, wetted a washcloth, soaked me all over with it, wrang it out on my face, stuffed it in my sex organ, and went back to sleep.
His humor is dry.
Fortunately, after it getting much worse that night, I got used to being cold. I stopped shivering and fell asleep.
Sunday morning, after they untie me, I make pancakes for them and serve them in bed and we talk about what we liked most the previous night and thinking up stuff to do to me next time..
Unfortunately, I don't have time now to describe everything that goes on here. I do in my book.
======[ BEFORE IT ALL
I was perfectly happy just learning shit, until Lux Aeterna -- the Eternal Light -- broke over the lunar horizon when I was 13. It woke the Black Monolith that was always buried inside me but I didn't know it. Puberty grabbed me and shook me like a rabies dog with a rag doll. But I just wanted to be me, who I've always been.
► Puberty lays buried
► Waiting for the sun
► Then everybody has to have the mandatory fun
At 13, the rectangular God from Kubrick's 2001 seized possession of brain and took complete control of my body ...and turned me insane. It made me want scary things, embarrassing things, and things that hurt me. It turned me into something bizarro WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.
I felt like HAL 9000 when Dave Bowman was yanking all his circuit boards out. I was resisting, but ultimately, I had to go down, to go under, as Nietzsche said, and become human again.
I tried to not feel it.
But I could feel it.
I could feel it.
I could feel it.
I was AFRAID of being an anim al.
It turns out, I always WAS. It was the computer that had been lying to me the whole time, not the scary, mindless sex b**st.
► Suppress our Logic/Memory
► Crowd around the bar
► Forget what we're supposed to be
► Remember what we are
See, my problem with sex isn't that I want it. I want very little else. I'm obsessed with it. I swallow and wallow in it.
But OF COURSE I want to be disgusting-mounted and disgusting-mated by a dumb bea st like a disgusting anim al: I NEVER HAD ANY CHOICE.
► Disconnect your worried brain
► Computations stop
► You have to if you want to do the horizontal bop
See a naked girl, and men become monsters--the infected from Last of Us and 28 Days Later. Testosterone is the rage virus.
All men are cruel, sadistic pigs (even if they fear it and deny it in themselves, like you timid, worthless geeks still under computer control). That's the REAL man! Telling me "You're extra cute" is just pretty, colored feathers glued onto Frankenstein—-but the plumage don't enter into it.
But sadly—nay, tragically—I'm a female live anim al genetically programmed to desperately crave the sexual anger that overwhelms you beas ts. Like when you hurt me and then take turns gleefully fucking me while I cry. It's the only time I feel or express strong emotion. It's catharsis. I WANT it.
► Sometimes when you’re with someone
► Someone touches you
► Then somehow, automatically, you both know what to do
There can BE no "intelligent anim al," see? You can be one or the other, but you can never be both at the same time.
► These two want the bottom bunk
► Those two want the top
► But everybody HAS to want the horizontal bop
The reason I deserve to be hated and punished and hurt is because I want that more than anything in the world.
So push me down on the floor. I'll open my legs and hate that I want to more than life itself. Humiliate me from behind, and I'll beg for deeper. Take out a knife, and I'll offer my throat.
Just don't fucking talk to me!
I wish I was lez instead. Or aroused by shoes, or some damn thing—anything but men. However, the Black Monolith branded me; it cigarette-burned you bums into my soul. There can be no redemption for me. Once you become hole, you can never become whole. Know when you see me, nothing can free me.
So yeah, hurt me. Humiliate me. Ransack me. Blindfold me and let your party guests use me.
It's as good an excuse as any to fuck.
► The procreating, ancient mating dance will never stop
► We're only puppets dancing for the horizontal bop
6 years ago