The Time I Was Bent Over And Taken By 15 Men

I was blindfolded and tied facedown on top on a table. My feet were on the floor but my legs were intimately spread and my ankles were tied to the table legs with soft nylon ropes. 

Sensationalist writing cheapens a literary experience. Today’s writing seems to be driven by the number of hits a web page will get, or the number of “likes” and “retweets.” Writing of substance is glossed over because people want to scroll through less than 180 characters while they poop. The internet has spurred the sharing of ideas as it was originally intended, but it turns out a lot of people don’t have very substantial ideas. To become known or popular in today’s Internet, you need to write “sensational” articles full of simple words and simple concepts to appeal to the masses.

This drives me crazy. If I wrote a blog post about how I got taken to pound town by a room of 15 men, my blog stats would be through the roof! I can tell what people want to read based on those stats. If I manipulate the metadata of my post to include references to “cock” “sex” “slut” and “murder”, it gets more hits. The majority of humans want to read smut so they can be offended and shocked. They can’t look away. They want to get their blood boiling (in anger or sensuality) and read about that stuff because they are too scared to take their own chances and experience it.

Reading about forbidden or unusual acts allows them to “sub” experience and vicariously live. They can bask in another person’s humiliation, ecstasy, pain, and horror and then leave. They have no real investment; they have no price to pay. Reading that stuff is like downloading a character flaw onto your virtual character in a video game and watching them live and suffer the consequences. You can always turn the computer off and walk away with no personal growth or experience other than what you downloaded in the starter pack. It is cowardly.

Can I write only smut and clickbait to drive up my web traffic? Can I simply describe the trembling of my body as each man fills me with his giant sticky load that pushes aside the load of the man before him? Well of course. But you would become hooked into a cheap experience and learn nothing of real characters or thoughts. You would know only a portion of me that equates to less than 180 characters. You would be feeding your own cowardly desire to “experience” situations that you might want to experience and yet are too scared to experience.

Heads up, I’ve never been taken to pound town by a room of 15 men. But boy, could I write about it.

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