The Secondary Virgin (Revised)

The Secondary Virgin (Revised)

Status: In Progress

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Erotica

Summary

This is based on a real memoir. . . The highly erotic chronicles of a sheltered woman desperately yearning to be free from her highly restricted way of life. She was raised in a religious household with a strict preacher for a father and a religious zealot of a mother with old-fashioned sensibilities. Her parents resentful and enraged forced her into taking a vow of celibacy upon the discovery that she had lost her virginity before marriage. She drowns deeper into her sexual repression, tightening the biblical shackles relentlessly around her wrist. But the flames of some women’s desires are way too strong to simply be extinguished and this sets her on a path to discover her sexuality and fight for her sexual independence. All comments and criticism about this story are welcome and greatly appreciated. . .

Summary

This is based on a real memoir. . .
The highly erotic chronicles of a sheltered woman desperately yearning to be free from her highly restricted way of life. She was raised in a religious household with a strict preacher for a father and a religious zealot of a mother with old-fashioned sensibilities. Her parents resentful and enraged forced her into taking a vow of celibacy upon the discovery that she had lost her virginity before marriage. She drowns deeper into her sexual repression, tightening the biblical shackles relentlessly around her wrist. But the flames of some women’s desires are way too strong to simply be extinguished and this sets her on a path to discover her sexuality and fight for her sexual independence.

All comments and criticism about this story are welcome and greatly appreciated. . .


Chapter1 (v.1) - The Secondary Virgin-Revised

Author Chapter Note

This is based on a real memoir. . . The highly erotic chronicles of a sheltered woman desperately yearning to be free from her highly restricted way of life. She was raised in a religious household with a strict preacher for a father and a religious zealot of a mother with old-fashioned sensibilities. Her parents resentful and enraged forced her into taking a vow of celibacy upon the discovery that she had lost her virginity before marriage. She drowns deeper into her sexual repression, tightening the biblical shackles relentlessly around her wrist. But the flames of some women’s desires are way too strong to simply be extinguished and this sets her on a path to discover her sexuality and fight for her sexual independence. All comments and criticism about this story are welcome and greatly appreciated. . .

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: May 28, 2014

Reads: 9898

Comments: 7

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Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: May 28, 2014

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~My family was very religious, to the point of being fanatics. My brother and I were raised in a strict Christian home in which my father ruled with an iron hand. My father was uptight and extremely judgmental when it came to sex before marriage. He truly despised those who enjoyed sex casually and treated it as just some sort of normal thing. He was a very big man, strong, really serious; his word was law. He was the pastor of his own church and you best believe his sermons were heavy and laced thick with tales of fire and brimstone, grave torment and damnation. My parents were very abusive toward us. Both of my parents were submitted to extreme punishment and raised up poisoned with the same brutal mentality. My dad was the tip of the spear, my mother a lighting rod. As a child he was regularly beaten with a razor strap and my mother with a tree branch before being locked away in a dark room for hours on end. They of course carried those discipline methods over onto us. My dad was also a master at extreme emotional and mental abuse. In addition to all beatings we received, we would be told how bad we were, and at times we were made to confess to things that we didn’t even do. We dare not try to speak up for ourselves and risk being beaten harder and more extremely. My dad hit me in the head so hard once that he broke my eardrum and he spanked my brother so bad that his legs and back were severely bruised for a little more than two weeks.

He would say that those people are bad, immoral, perverts. That they are the destroyers of everything matrimonial and sacred. He would even write blogs about his warped views on sex and how to protect the sanctity of the home from falling victim to the dark desires and ungodly perversions of this modern world. His fan base was mostly made up of closet criminal, conservative sexless zombies. Every time I came I thought to myself that It’s such a shame that we live in a wasteland of diluted wet dreams and cobwebbed, sour, mothy blue balls. My mother was very obedient and completely submissive to my father. She was extremely conservative and always wore her hair pinned up, she rarely, if ever, gave him any lip. But her beliefs were no different from his and she shared the same view when it came to things of a sexual nature. As time passed, he seemed to view my brother in an entirely different light. In my father’s house being the first born son had its advantages. My brother had come to learn how to appease my father and  persuade his wrath and get away with murder. But for the most part, my brother and I got along and loved each other very much. We protected each other through the tough times.

I lived a very sheltered life, church and working on my parent’s farm was all I knew. My day started at 5:00a.m. every morning and consisted of milking cows and feeding the animals, going into the field unloading hay, raking and bailing hay, planting corn, grinding feed; most of this was before breakfast. Then it was a trip to the feed store, bank, and possibly the co-op.
Weather and season guided the schedule and of course the milk cows had to be milked twice a day no matter what. In the winter when it was cold and snowy, there were no crops to be worked so we focused on animals which took longer sometimes due to the deep snow. Sometimes the days were long and dreary and I would work until my bones ached and my fingers bled. There were days when I secretly prayed that God would deliver me from this mundane existence, lest I meet a beautiful death. The outside world was a place that I wasn’t accustomed to. But that doesn’t mean that thoughts of what I’d be like didn’t torture me to the point that it felt like sharp splinters stabbing into my brain. Though I daydreamed about it daily, it seemed like a far away place that was completely foreign to me. My parents had planted the seed of fear in my brother and me at a young age. They told us that the world was a scary place where everything was dark and evil. We had become antisocial and didn’t really know how to start conversations with others, even in the most innocent of settings. Sometimes I’d look at myself naked in the mirror and I felt like I’d even become a stranger to myself. My parents were always watching, critiquing, breathing down my neck and constantly shoving the gospel in my face. I never felt like my decisions were mine to make. It was this kind of strict protectionism that was stunting my growth, keeping me imprisoned in an illusion of innocence, a form of conditional ignorance.

There wasn’t much room to explore my sexuality in the beginning back in those days. I was a very quiet girl, except for singing passionately in the choir in my father’s church on sundays. Before I ever considered myself to be beautiful or even sexy, I started out very shy and kind of awkward due to me being sheltered from the ways of the world. But even so I was always curious about sex even at a young age, an infatuation that only grew stronger as I got older. Every day my father would walk up to me like clockwork.
“Have you said your prayers today?” My father asked, his voice dripping with conviction.
“Yes. I have.”
“Have you prayed for others or just for yourself?”
“I have prayed for others.”
“Who loves you? Let me hear you say it.”
“God loves me,” I said with a smile.
“And what is God?”
“God is the light, the truth and the only way to salvation.”
“Good girl,” He said, returning a smile of his own. “Now go help your mother in the kitchen.”
“Yes, sir.”

It was the same routine day in and day out. After church service and Sunday dinner I’d find myself lying in bed sliding my tiny fingers firmly in and out of my wet, hungry snatch. At this point my masturbation sessions had almost become notorious. It was the one pleasure I had that my father wasn’t aware of, and since I couldn’t have sex it had become the second strongest impulse running through my body. It was a way of life, an addiction, my beautiful monster. We had one television set in the house that sat in the living room. We were only allowed to watch old black and white television shows mostly. Anything with any nudity, violence or bad language was cut off immediately. However, there was some leniency as soon as I hit eighteen. We were finally allowed to have a television and DVD player in our rooms but the movies we were allowed to watch were still monitored by my father.
 
Despite all this believe it or not, I wasn’t a virgin. I actually have had sex several times. Once I got a taste of the flesh, it drove me crazy with lust. Me losing my virginity was something that my parents were greatly ashamed of and tried to keep secret. One summer I lost my virginity to a young man named Jake. My parents had hired him on as a farmhand. We would sneak off and make love in the woods. Once my father found out, he threatened him at gun point and I received another excruciating beating that left me with a bloody nose and two bruised ribs. My parents think that showing any form of sexual interest in anything or anyone outside of marriage is dirty, and that included watching porn and masturbation. Today I had made special plans and I was eager to get to them. Just the thought of what was brewing in my dirty little mind had my tummy fluttering with butterflies, not to mention the enormous growing wet spot that had accumulated on the front of my panties. I fought desperately to not let my fingers slide down to my hot, fleshy pink pussy lips right there under the dinner table. I ate lightly then told my parents I was sick. I convinced them I had to retire to my room early to get some sleep. After I closed and locked the door, once again there I was lying in bed under the covers squeezing my hard erect nipples. I gently caressed myself all over pretending that my hands were a firm pair of a man’s hands making my body melt from their every touch. I had somehow miraculously managed to lift a gangbang DVD from my brother’s private collection. It was a sexual act that had always greatly intrigued me and I thought about constantly but I never got the chance to see one, until now. I turned the volume down on the television, cautiously crept quietly over and slipped the disc into the player. Once things got underway, I was immediately immersed into everything I was seeing. I never thought I could be this turned on and uncontrollably wet. You could hear the loud, wet sounds of my fingers as I rubbed my slippery pussy and teased my swollen clit. This was only the beginning of what was to come.

 

 

 

 

 


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