Went to a photoshoot with Tormentor tonight. Because I can. Without asking.
Very strange - turns out I used to go to his house for parties when I was about 22... lifetime ago. College friend introduced us, and he knew some girls I worked with at the Acropolis lol. Didn't figure it out until after the photoshoot when he started talking about Cat and Candice.
Kind of turned into more of a play date. I think I like being hurt too much, make too much noise, move around too much ... he got distracted from taking pictures. I needed to be played with, though, so I didn't mind. It just would be so fucking nice if I would, if I could stop crying so easily.
It was caning that did it. You'd think it would be the belt, but no. It might be too early for me to do this. I wanted him to keep hitting me until I was on the ground, until I was unconscious, until I couldn't speak, until I stopped shaking. Is it wrong to use someone to abuse yourself? I didn't plan it, didn't know he was going to hit me, didn't negotiate fuck. I have no boundaries anyway today... well that's not entirely true but you'd have to be pretty sick to find them right now. I no longer care what happens to my body - its not his anymore, and I'm trying to erase. Learn to forget.
I think the pictures are good - I mean, not his fault - but I am continually appalled at how ugly I am. I told him I didn't like my face, or my face in the pictures I have, so what does he do? Pictures of my face lol. I have a huge nose, my eyes always look scared (oh, and crying just helps that immensely), my mouth is strange looking, and my whole face is just round - I don't even have cheekbones. Ugh. I like how I look in mirrors, though - I think I read its cause we're used to seeing ourselves that way we all think we look strange in photographs. I look like a different person. Horrific.
He kept asking me how it felt, how I felt. I never think about it, never put it into words. How do I feel? I feel like I swallowed a glass ball. It rolls around from my throat to my heart to my stomach, to my head. When I'm played with, it goes away for awhile. I turn to pain to escape... pain? Loss, betrayal, and sadness, oh my.
He said I was a good girl - and I didn't go mental on him and try to rip his limbs off. He commented on how he hadn't made me say Sir to him. I just laughed.
Laugh at the sin, shelter my heart.
Very strange - turns out I used to go to his house for parties when I was about 22... lifetime ago. College friend introduced us, and he knew some girls I worked with at the Acropolis lol. Didn't figure it out until after the photoshoot when he started talking about Cat and Candice.
Kind of turned into more of a play date. I think I like being hurt too much, make too much noise, move around too much ... he got distracted from taking pictures. I needed to be played with, though, so I didn't mind. It just would be so fucking nice if I would, if I could stop crying so easily.
It was caning that did it. You'd think it would be the belt, but no. It might be too early for me to do this. I wanted him to keep hitting me until I was on the ground, until I was unconscious, until I couldn't speak, until I stopped shaking. Is it wrong to use someone to abuse yourself? I didn't plan it, didn't know he was going to hit me, didn't negotiate fuck. I have no boundaries anyway today... well that's not entirely true but you'd have to be pretty sick to find them right now. I no longer care what happens to my body - its not his anymore, and I'm trying to erase. Learn to forget.
I think the pictures are good - I mean, not his fault - but I am continually appalled at how ugly I am. I told him I didn't like my face, or my face in the pictures I have, so what does he do? Pictures of my face lol. I have a huge nose, my eyes always look scared (oh, and crying just helps that immensely), my mouth is strange looking, and my whole face is just round - I don't even have cheekbones. Ugh. I like how I look in mirrors, though - I think I read its cause we're used to seeing ourselves that way we all think we look strange in photographs. I look like a different person. Horrific.
He kept asking me how it felt, how I felt. I never think about it, never put it into words. How do I feel? I feel like I swallowed a glass ball. It rolls around from my throat to my heart to my stomach, to my head. When I'm played with, it goes away for awhile. I turn to pain to escape... pain? Loss, betrayal, and sadness, oh my.
He said I was a good girl - and I didn't go mental on him and try to rip his limbs off. He commented on how he hadn't made me say Sir to him. I just laughed.
Laugh at the sin, shelter my heart.
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