Repeat It

Yes, I’m doing it again and again and again. Got so tired during my therapeutic session today, I felt like quitting it. I know my brother would have gone mad with me and I know it wouldn’t be good for me, but at the moment I’m really fed up with talking it over and over again. I know I let the assholes win when I believe I deserve pain and humiliation, but fuck it, it’s the only thing I get aroused by! Sure, it’s just because I was abused. If I had not been abused, I’d probably like petting and kissing enough to get me going, blah blah. I’m so sick of feeling guilty for craving pain and degradation, for being brazen like I am, for regarding myself a whore. Each time I try to have something normal, I fail. Why should a normal sex life be desirable? Why should a normal life be? Why should I believe it would be good for me to like normal things, when so many things in my life are not? I can’t even eat or drink what I’d like because he ruined me.

During our stay in France, I had an experience I did not really look for, but when it took place, I savoured it. I have never made a secret out of the fact that I allow John to lend me to other men, but this time a guy paid for having sex with me. If I had had sex with him for free, it just would have been what I’ve done so many times before. If he had paid me the “normal” amount, I would have felt bad. But he just gave me 3 €, and that was exactly what made it so fucking good. Oh sure, I repeat what I did in my younger days, when my father expected me to have sex for a candy bar, and in my days on the street, when I was glad to receive 20 DM for it. But it’s familiar, and therefore I liked it. I like feeling like a cheap whore. I like BEING a cheap whore. No damn therapeutic session will ever change that. If you want to judge me for that, go ahead. At the moment, I don’t really mind.




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