Sometimes, when I just thought everything is alright, there appears a trapdoor and suddenly nothings is really alright anymore. I know how it is to live with triggers and I guess all in all I do quite well. Apart from some times…

Saturday, John and I were attending a BDSM-party in a club and I actually wanted to write about that. Because after more than nine months of daily nipple stimulation I have finally managed to cum by nip play only. I was proud of myself and I like the fact that my clitlette is no longer neccessary.

But, on another level, this physical reaction has triggered memories that are rather lost underneath the dust of time. For years now I’ve been collecting memories written on little papers in a box. I try to sort them chronologically, but some memories can’t be put in the right place. Cumming by nip play only triggered memories of things that have happened when I was really, really young. I know my father touched me as a baby though I don’t recall exactly the first time when he inserted something into me. What I do recall is the feeling of being torn apart, a hellish, neverending pain and the fear of being extinguished. Well, well, and obviously sooner or later he made me cum by anal stimulation only. For years, like, the most part of my life I haven’t been able to cum by prostate massage or fucking only and always needed my clit to be stimulated. Now I remember why.

In fact I think I’m quite lucky to remember that now and understand why I couldn’t cum without clitoral stimulation. I feared loss of control and I feared death when letting go. My body needed to be overpowered again to recall that. I hope I can work on that and let it go, because of course I know I won’t die when I get fucked. I want to be a useful fuck-slut and cum when getting fucked as my clit is just a ridiculous and superfluous attachment.

For the moment, I just hate my body, hate myself. It sounds sad, but I’m glad I’m used to that, so that I know I will be OK again, sooner or later. I wish I could just hate him, but that little boy in me still loves him and wants to be loved by him. So sick of that.


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