First of all, I’ve gotten rid of those nails 😀 I’m quite pleased with owning my hands again. Anything is so much easier now. But when I had my fingers bathing in this whatever fluid, I asked the nail artist about getting artificial nails. If I’d go for them, they were supposed to stay on for about 4 to 6 weeks, depending on my nail-growth. I think that’s too long for me. Now. But to be honest, Ginny was very pleased with having her fingers bathed and filed. Uhm.

Second, when John returned home that evening, I immediately knew it was going to hurt. He was upset with employees, had had a bad day. Usually, this means I can fix it with listening to him, bringing him a drink or two and cooking something delicious. But otherwise, there are evenings like this, when I just know it’s going to hurt, until he feels better. I guess I can take physical punishments better than psychologial humiliation, although I like it. Best when he mixes things up, oh fuck yeah. First the hard and painful quickie when I tried to do the dishes. I guess I don’t need a lubricant everytime as I tend to get quite wet with precum when I’m aroused, but being fucked without any kind of foreplay is a bit demanding without lubricant. To be honest, it always reminds me of the feelings I had in my childhood, like it’s too big and it’s going to burst me open. I know I should not, but I like it. And yeah, I like it if I start bleeding then. It’s raw and it’s bad, but it makes it very clear who I am. I am HIS slut, period. No longer my father’s or anyone elses. HIS bitch and he can ride me like HE wants to.

Later, being deep-throated and hit at the same time, gagging on anything, trying to breathe, drooling, fighting for air. Breath control really at its finest. Listening to his voice, sweet like honey and sharp like a knife. Being slapped in the face, being pulled near, no escape. It’s those moments in which I totally know I am HIS. Then again being fucked, painful and degrading, with my cock so hard I think it’s never going to be limb again, but not being allowed to touch it. And his whispering in my ear “tell me how much you want it, cunt. Beg me!”. I did. And thanked him.

Most time it needs two orgasms, sometimes four, until he is ok again and calms down. He then pulls me near, strokes and caresses me, even takes a tissue to whipe the blood off. He sometimes asks “did I hurt you?” and usually I reply “you did”. I am not to lie. Why should I? We both savour it. He fondles me, is very caring afterwards. Most times he lets his fingers wander, teases me until I thankfully cum. Do I feel like a worthless fuck toy afterwards? Like an injured whore who deserved what she got? Like he had a point in treating me like that? I can only reply a heartfelt YES to all of that.

Thank you, Sir. I’m proud to be YOURS alone.

Love really hurts.


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