Tag: personal

I feel much stronger now, I was a mess when I wrote this. Back to square one, feeling like shit because I failed. But now I think of it differently, in a more positive way, in 5 years I fucked up only once, I think that’s a good way to think about it, it helps me anyway.
I might delete this … But for now it’s here .

“So yes, I fucked up, and big time. I remember in rehab I was told to watch out for the triggers that might make me want to use again. I am wrecking my brain to find what did it but I can’t, truth is in the last five years I don’t think there’s been a day when I haven’t thought about using, I just talked myself out of it. So what was different about that day?
As soon as I saw him at the bar I knew he was a user, my junkie sixth sense kicked in, he didn’t look like one, he looked clean in the way Italian guys always look, put together. You know their mother washes and irons their clothes, even the jeans; but I just knew, it’s something in the eyes. And then the craving started, I could smell it, I anticipated the ritual, the rush and the feeling of being wrapped up in cotton wool, not a fucking care in the world.
We talked for a while, he congratulated me on being clean for so long and of course told me all about how he was getting clean too, he gave me his phone number.
I managed to talk myself out of it, went home and then it was all I could think of: just this once, I am in a good place, just for the buzz, a little taste, I’ll smoke it it won’t be so bad – and of course that last thought immediately dismissed because don’t you remember how much better shooting up is?
I called him and met with him, almost wet in anticipation.
I brought him back to my place and walked past P, I couldn’t even look at him, went to my bedroom.
When I used I liked to set up the shot myself, I liked the ritual of it and I was always impatient, other people seemed to move in slow motion, but this time I let him do it as I watched.
He tells me he doesn’t have sex anymore, not in a long time, he likes to shoot up girls because it looks like they are cumming when the smack hits them, he asks me can he do it to me, I don’t give a shit I just want to get off already, stop talking and do it, if you get a kick out of it I couldn’t care less.
My first thought was this shit is good, and then I knew I fucked up, I made the typical mistake of over estimating my tolerance, I thought: so this is how I go. And all I could feel was acceptance, no fear. Everything went black until I woke up surrounded by paramedics and P standing over me crying. And I was pissed off that my high was ruined.
Even in the hospital while puking up I was thinking that the next time I would be careful, take less.
So now what?
I crave it so much, I still feel cheated out of my high. Did it scare me, am I scared now? Yes.
I tell myself I have good friends around me, friends that love me and want me to be well, I have good things in my life and in my future, I don’t want to fuck this up, I don’t want to go back to being an addict, smack and feeding the habit the only thing I can think of.
But it’s at night, when I am on my own that the cravings threaten to override my rational thinking.
I am not as strong as I thought I was.”

I don’t feel I am doing this at the moment, for anybody.
I feel selfish, like I have my cake and eating it too.
It’s a special kind of fucked up feeling, the problem is I don’t want it to end, but I know sooner or later it will be out of my hands and I will be left with nothing at all, and deserve it too.

I wake and check my phone, like I did everyday, except today is different and there is no message from Sir wishing me a good day.The bedroom feels cold as I lie naked in my bed, Autumn is beginning and soon I won’t be able to be naked all the time like I was everyday, but there’s no need to ask Sir for permission to wear something warmer than my silk kimono.

I walk to the station, today I was supposed to do my weekly task and take my panties off while on the train; I wonder what the point is if I can’t tell Sir all about it. As the train pulls in I decide I just can’t face the day and walk back home, fighting the tears in my eyes.

Later I call L. she’ll distract me for a while, we’ll watch videos, listen to music and laugh together, it’ll be good. Except nothing makes me laugh, I can’t shake this sadness off of me. “Let’s do your nails” L says, and I look at my nails painted bright red as Sir liked them. When I looked at them I smiled, a reminder I was owned and cherished.Now I can paint my nails any color I desire … “No, let’s leave them red for a bit longer, I am not ready” I tell L.

6 o’clock comes around, at this time I would start my ritual, getting ready for Sir to play with me. I would run a bath, soak for a while, then put my make up on: red lipstick, black eyeliner. Naked with just my black high heels on I would wait for him. Today I am lying under my bed covers, feeling empty, feeling lost and scared.

I call P, you need to be here to rescue me once again, to not let me drown, to tell me I made the right choice because right now it doesn’t feel like it, right now I just feel adrift.
I am poison, I tell him, I kill everything I touch, he hugs me and says “ Yes, you are pretty thought. Pretty poison”

The Task

When Sir told me what he expected me to do for my weekly task I was taken aback, I should have expected it to happen eventually, putting together the pieces should have made me realize that this was the natural progression.

I was to have an orgasm in public. The thought of it left me terrified but also excited, I am not one to back down from a challenge. Still I would be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about it, I live in a relatively small town where everybody knows each other and being “the foreign girl” I do stand out, the chances of bumping into someone that knows me when I am out are high.

All week I fretted about it, thinking it over and over in my head, imagining all sorts of scary scenarios.

Finally on Saturday morning I resolved to just do it, I prepared myself, wore a beautiful 1950’s circle skirt with pockets, which I had doctored by unpicking the stitches in one of the pockets for better access. I set out the door not wearing any panties.

I walked around with my heart in my throat for a while, feeling scared, nervous and excited. Then I headed to a small park, the weather wasn’t the best so not many people were hanging around, much to my relief. I sat on a bench in a semi secluded spot and took a deep breath. My hand in my pocket I started touching myself, I was so wet already and it didn’t take long for me to get turned on – having edged the night before also helped – my clit started to get hard, my heart was beating so fast. I tried to stay as still as I possibly could, not to betray what was going on.

Soon I felt myself getting close, my breathing getting heavier, my pussy contracting and getting wetter.

Though my body was still, I knew that if someone saw my face there would be no hiding what was going on. As I came I closed my eyes and forgot where I was, letting the pleasure flood my body, it felt so good.

The orgasm seemed to last for a long time and after I imagined opening my eyes and finding some stranger sitting beside me watching me cum, this thought excited me and scared me all at the same time.

After I came I got myself together and headed home, a smile on my face eager to let Sir know I completed my task, eager to tell him about it, knowing he would be pleased with me for going through with it.