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John never did get it. The sexual stuff, I mean. Like how I wanted him to tie me up. How I wanted to be helpless. I wanted him to use me, use my “holes”, all of them, for his gratification. Put anything you want inside of me, I said to him. Treat me dirty.
When we first got married, he tried a few things with me. But then he got disgusted, saying I was crazy. A pervert.
John has no idea what I’m doing this weekend. He’s gone for three days on a business trip. I’m on the train to New York.
I have my instructions.
A friend made the arrangements for me. She’d been a collared slave several years ago, so she had some contacts, some people she trusted.
I feel sick. My hands are shaking. I hit the bathroom for the third time since I left home. But I keep imagining my hands bound, my legs bound also, spread wide. I fantasize, hearing a voice in my mind telling me that I’m nothing but a toy, something kept for sexual amusement. I’m a prisoner. I’m to be kept as long as I satisfy. And he kneads my breasts, twisting my nipples. He plunges inside of me.
Date: March 15, 2024
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