A strange day today. I heard a sad song and now I’m sad myself, for no reason. Sometimes dealing with all that happened is like walking through an unknown forest with many threats ahead. Sometimes I feel like I have not gained anything and have not made a single step towards a normal life.
Having John back with me is heaven. I feel a lot more secure now, a lot more like owning my body again. I thought about a therapist I worked with in former years. He completely accepted that I need physical pain to feel alive and he never judged what I did to myself or let others do to me. He did not even make me feel ashamed when I tried to give him a BJ, because I did not know how to tell him otherwise that I’m thankful. Nowadays, when I have to go to see my doctor, each and every time he monitors me, he asks me about the signs John leaves on my skin. I hate it. I have told him that we’re leading a 24/7 BDSM-based relationship, but he does not comprehend. “Does your partner beat you?” he keeps asking, and I always tell him that yes, he does, and I need it, I want it. I’d go to another doctor, but it’s so hard to tell the thruth about me, from the beginning on.
The last two days have been very painful and yet fulfilling. I have missed being used and being beaten. I can feel my body the better the more pain is inflicted. I guess we both could not stop us. Yesterday, I found myself wearing women’s undies and stockings while being plugged and gagged, with a latex mask and a plastic bag over it and the air getting thinner. I was beaten red and sore, and it was only when I felt breathing became very painful and almost impossible that I felt good and secure again. Back home with Master. Belonging and serving and knowing my place in this world again. Afterwards, when all the aggression has faded, I’m able to feel comfortable within my skin, just like a normal person. Love asked me whether it’s been too much, and I, as one of the rules I live by is to tell him the truth, said yes, it’s been too much, I have been on the verge of fainting, but I would not have wanted it any other way. He did not apologise, I did would not have wanted him to. But I guess we both were totally aware of the fact that this had been one of these moments in which I’m willing to pass. I have learnt to appreciate my life, especially my life with him. You could call it a twisted sense of romance, but the thought of dying by his hand is beautiful to me. I know it should not be. I’m an awful person to think such things.