Monique

31 December 1993

Female

United States

Hey guys, welcome to my world, and thanks for stopping by. A few quick things before I go into greater detail and me and my fetish interests:

No, my name isn’t really Monique, but I am really eighteen and I am really female. I’m not yet in a position where I feel comfortable sharing myself with you and the world, so don’t get too excited about whatever picture I post in my profile. Please be respectful, read my profile before you message me, and when you do, please take the time and make an effort to write properly. I realize that English doesn’t come easily to a lot of people, but most, and even those who don’t call it their mother tongue, can still manage the basics: full sentences, beginning with a capital and ending with a period. I’m not asking this to sound snotty, I’m asking because I’ll be replying in the same manner.

I live in Buffalo, New York, and I’m just about ready to graduate high school. When I’m not in class, I’m working part time as a waitress, so I’ll be able to afford to go to college in the spring, and what little free time I have left is divided between my two passions: writing and running. I’m a vegetarian, an agnostic, and I’ve got a twisted sense of humor, which, along with books, has gotten me through a lot of tough situations over the years.

I won’t go into detail about my appearance, but broadly speaking I’m an average height, average weight, and proportional to my size and body type. I’m African-American; I have pink highlights in my hair; and my braces are due to come off in June.

If you want me to write more, I will by request, but that’s more or less me in a nutshell.

When I was eight, we got cable TV. It was a big event, and I remember it well. It was a Sunday, but my mom had to work, so my brothers and I were left alone with the new channels without any censor to keep us from watching stuff we weren’t supposed to. Of course, being boys, the second my mom was out the door, my brothers immediately began searching for the most violent and disturbing thing they could find. I don’t remember everything we watched that afternoon, but one show in particular stands out in my mind.

It was an episode of Law and Order, and it began with a woman’s body being discovered. She lay across her bed, half naked, with a gunshot wound to her upper chest. As it turns out she was murdered by another woman, wife of the man she was having an affair with, but that’s not important. What is important is how that, alongside several later scenes with her body in the morgue, made me feel. It was a tingly feeling that not only stayed with me after the show was over, but grew stronger the more I thought about and processed it in my mind.

I don’t claim to be an expert, but a lot of time has passed since then, and I’ve spent a good deal of it mulling the topic over. Someone once told me that “sex is a battle, love is war” and I feel that that’s true, especially with regards to my fantasies. I know it sounds odd, coming from someone as young as I am, but when you’re poor you grow up fast, and I’ve had enough experience to know that the two sexes will always be at war with each other. The culmination of that struggle is what turns me on. Not rape, per se, but probably the closest thing to it. Imagine the same kind of emotional involvement that goes into makeup sex and you’re not far off, only I prefer it ends with more than just him going bang.

Since I already detailed a little of my fantasy in my explanation of its roots, and since my profile is long-winded enough as it is, I’ll be brief here. I really enjoy the penetrative aspect of both gunshot and stab wounds. One of either is enough. I’m not into gore fests or extreme pain, but it should be somewhere on my body that isn’t going to kill me instantly. I want enough time to process my impending death but not so much that I have to agonize over it. Remember, it’s a battle that’s just lost me the war. Killed in the heat of the moment, before, after or during intercourse, my death sets the stage for the final and less important aspect of my fantasy: post-mortem play.

As with the rest of my fetish, I think this came from the Law and Order episode too. I like the control aspect of having my body played with and manipulated after death. Not excessively or stupidly, but with the same care and affection that a lover would have for their partner, or the respectful professionalism that one expects of a mortician or medical examiner.

What I’m here for is good conversation. I don’t think I need to say what a relief it is to find a place where I’m not alone, not judged or insulted for what turns me on. I like to think I’m open-minded, but there are limits to what I find tolerable. Racism, real or fantasy, is on top of the list. It doesn’t do a thing for me, I find it despicable and there’s no quicker way to get blocked by me than to proposition it to me in any way. I’m not big into bondage or anything like that. It’s not as immediate a turn off as racism is, I’m just not interested. Just keep in mind what I said earlier about respect when you message me and you’ll be fine!

Offline is off limits for the time being. Sorry!