Childhood, Effedup

Author: Cassandra & Susie

I was just procrastinating my work, so I decided to write this down. Just some thoughts.

Weird fantasies I had as a kid/teen.

By teen, I mean, like, 14 years old.

When I was around eleven, that’s when I discovered porn, completely by coincidence. I don’t even think I knew what sex actually was at that age. Like, I genuinely didn’t know that it was something people did to make babies lol. I think I discovered sex through porn, which is probably one hell of a way to learn about it.

And yeah, I ended up watching porn constantly for a week or so. Torture videos too, because apparently my eleven-year-old brain decided that “how far can humans actually go when hurting each other?” was a fascinating question.

I don’t remember crying or being particularly horrified. I mostly remember this weird rush. Adrenaline, I guess. I got obsessed with it for maybe two days, the torturing stuff i mean, constantly looking for more. I think I also felt guilty, because I somehow understood that what I was watching was wrong. My logic was basically: if you’re watching it, you’re supporting it.

Which is a pretty funny moral framework for an eleven-year-old, but there it is.

Luckily, or unluckily, depending on how you look at it, two days later my parents took my phone and never gave it back.

You might be wondering: how the hell does an eleven-year-old even find porn?

Well, it wasn’t social media.

At the time, I’d heard my parents say that Google was bad, so “naturally” my reaction was:

How bad can it possibly be?

And that’s basically how my curiosity towards human psychology started.

I remember typing things like “naked woman” and “naked man” into Google, finding exactly what you’d expect, and then going further and further down the rabbit hole. Eventually I stumbled across much darker material.

And I think that’s where something changed in the way I looked at humans.

As I mentioned in another post, I even started imitating some of what I’d seen by myself, trying to understand what it might feel like to be in the position of someone who didn’t consent to what was happening to them. I wasn’t sitting there thinking “poor victim” or crying over them. I mostly remember curiosity and this strange psychological excitement.

And from there, the fantasies just kept escalating.

At that age, I’d lie awake at night imagining increasingly severe torture scenarios. Not necessarily sexually exciting, either. It was more like my brain had discovered new ways of being more creative towards trauma.

Then, around 14, I apparently decided that simply imagining individual scenes wasn’t enough anymore.

I needed worldbuilding.

And that’s when I created what I called the Hotel of Hell.

Don’t call this edgy, please. I’m genuinely not trying to be edgy here. Haha. Not when it involves my precious hotel.

The hotel had several floors, each containing enormous entertainment rooms with different themes. And, naturally, the higher you went, the more intense everything became.

You had to earn your way upward.

It was almost like a maze, except there was one important rule:

You don’t leave alive.

Once you entered the game, there was no going back. You either progressed through the levels or eventually died when you could no longer continue.

Apparently my fourteen-year-old imagination was really into commitment.

There were also rules for the participants. If a man failed to do whatever he was supposed to accomplish in a particular room, he was punished by death.

Very forgiving establishment.

And yes, for whatever reason, I always imagined women being the victims rather than men. I genuinely don’t know why. Maybe because ny mind found it easier to imagine a men dominating the scene and establishing his authority over a weak woman’s body. My brain simply picked a demographic and apparently refused to reconsider. (And I think also most of the content I found back then was dominated by man asserting violence on woman.)

A small exemple of one room in one of the floors that was called a resting point :
Naturally after sessions and sessions of jerking off and having fun in this hotel, you will get tired and especially hungry, eventually. So, it was a restaurant. This restaurant had several women tied upside down, of course gagged, blindfolded, their vaginas were exposed to the fresh air. Cups were inserted inside of it, or the base of some rounded special plates. Drinks were poured onto the cups, and you can drink straight out of the vagina. It was just like that. Of course, you can sit on other women, but your dick had to be in, not out. And when eating, you cannot use your hands. You can only use your mouth. And you don’t move the cup to drink. You move the whole body with it. A premium experience involves no cups or holders or plates or anything. If you wanted to eat a crèpe au chocolat, you dip the crèpe inside the Nutella that is well warm inside your women. If you needed more food you make your women make loud noises. I don’t know how to describe it too well. The imagination is just the pretty stuff. In fact describing it is a pain in the ass, since it’s so detailed. I think I’m not gonna really talk about it.

But yeah, I think this kind of hotel already exists. It’s just for the elite or some kind of stuff like that.

There’s no way I’m the only person that thought of it. I mean, while making the fantasies, I also expected myself to be some kind of filthy rich bastard, you know? And of course in each room, that was like the top player. He had some extra premium stuff. Anyways, fuck this.

Every room had different rules, different levels of intensity, different rewards, different punishments, and increasingly elaborate scenarios.

And yes, I ‘m deliberately filtering less this time. You guys praised my work so much that I needed to be more transparent on how my whole writing thing started in the first place.

Oh, and now that I think about it I have some kind of extreme sexual thoughts. I don’t know if I’m just a human being who happened to develop some fucked-up fantasies, or if I’m some lecherous little monster created by my environment. Who knows.

Anyways, exploring these positions and scenarios in my mind, the whole Hotel of Hell thing was on a completely different level. It was genuinely a whole different kind of fun to construct in my head.

It’s just that I don’t think describing the hotel properly is something I can process right now. Because describing it exactly as it exists in my head, with all of its weirdness and absurdly specific details, sounds a bit strange even for EUM. And, honestly, it might make me sound like some narcissistic bastard who only cares about his own pleasure.

Which isn’t exactly wrong.

But I think I need more time before I describe the whole thing. I don’t want to just dump some half~assed, inaccurate version of it here and then have people interpret the hotel based on something I didn’t even describe properly.

I’d actually feel bad about that.

Not because I’d feel bad about the hotel itself, necessarily, but because I’d feel bad about my creativity being completely misspoken of.

And if I’m going to talk about the Hotel of Hell, I want to actually do it justice.

So yeah.

Fuck this.

Maybe I’ll describe it properly when my brain is willing to cooperate lol.
Or it’s just that i need more work to procrastinate even more and write something good for an eager reader.

(Sorry reader, I can’t edit this shit anymore, I’m tired.)