My dirty mistress

It corrodes my veins while flowing through me, This thing they call violent rage. It’s so simple you would think How something I can’t see controls me. Anger controls my reaction to many things, even some just so simple that would make someone giggle in utter disbelief over how trivial something is. I feel white hot anger coarsing though my finger tips; I feel release when I punch holes in doors with my elbow that leaves a gnarly bruise up the back of my arm, which was beautiful and the pain was exsquite, almost orgasmic. I laugh maniacally as I throw things at someone who’s made me angry. Breaking a plate or a mug is safer than me clawing up your face. Anger is my dirty mistress, and I can’t leave her. I think I love her.

Subscribe to me on Channillo|Sammay Sam



You’re the fuel to my inspiration, and the complete downfall to me succeeding,

You’re what I love, and want to end at the same time.

I don’t drink to get drunk;
I drink to sleep,
I drink to qwell that demon that says I have to hurt others
I drink to numb any pain that will flash before my eyes, like a projector playing home videos that taunt me, and make me want to cry for how badly I want to scream.


You are the reason I keep doing the same thing over and over Praying to a God that’s abandoned me that maybe today I won’t scream outloud when I see my trauma presented to me like a story I know the ending to that I get to relive almost moment to moment.


I am so jealous of Leonard in Memento. Here’s a man with absolutely no memory, and here I am, a drowning hack of a writer who has a photographic memory that I can’t escape from. My memories, the victims- myself or others I hurt, are my victims. I am my biggest victim because I still think I can escape from.

Why do I deserve an escape? Cut deeper baby girl, and swallow those pills and chase it with liquor. You will never escape yourself. You’re your own Momento.

You aspire to be Bukowski bitch, but you’re a Million little FRAY-d pieces that deserves to be mocked.

Follow me on to read more dark thoughts

Anne marie

Little Anne Marie said it best.

All I have is a picture in my mind
How it would be if we were together
Let’s pretend that you’re far away
Let’s say you write to me
And you promise in your letter that you’ll come home

Come home to my heart
When you come home
We’ll never be apart if I keep dreaming of you
Start believing it’s true
Soon you’ll come home
Soon you’ll come home
Soon you’ll come home to my heart

Soon you’ll come home
Home to my heart
Soon you’ll come home
Home to my heart
If I believe

I have had this song stuck in my head for days. I won’t lie I have played this song on repeat so many times. It’s a coping mechanism that I have. I tend to start feeling a way about a song, then I need to murder instantly, or I need to cry for hours.

Since I was a kid I have an attachment to the movie All Dogs Go To Heaven. I can’t explain it, but Anne-Marie the orphan girl is a character that defines my life to this day. I use to watch this happy little girl be so optimistic, and have no one to even make sure she had Waffles. She meets this couple who are so smitten with her. She ends up with a photo of them in a wallet, and that’s what she sings in the song about.
Thinking back on it now, I modeled myself after that little girl, becoming someone who is still always finding the bright side in even the worst feeling moments. I’m writing about her for a reason.

I’ve come to realize I am my own version of an Orphan. Before you think my parents were killed in a car crash; I have parents. To me I have my father, grandmother, and aunt; but there’s only one way to describe it.

I was a feral animal basically left on my own. I was a punching bag for a stepmom who meant well, a brother who just had a jealousy towards me for being someone who has always been the leader he wish he could be, and a mother who I’ve become to realize she was the first demon I faced in my life. My father always tried to be the one who smoothed things over, but my Grandma is still the GOAT.

I kind of drifted to a couple friends house my junior and senior year. That’s actually when I really began drinking, to cope with all the trauma and the words I couldn’t speak in my own words. I slept on the floor and couches of women who loved me the way my mother couldn’t. I cut my mom out of my life years ago, and I’ve really only had one “why couldn’t my mom love me” cry fest to my grandmother on the phone. It’s been a very interesting self discovery.

One of the first realizations I had about life and my family was when I listened to the Counting Crowes song “She talks to Angels”. The line “She’ll tell you she’s an orphan after you meet her family” and it’s stuck with me since.

I love my dad and my grandmother, but I had to fend for myself. I’ve written about it so it’s not needed in this piece. Just came to the realization when I had that song play on repeat in my head, and the scene where a little girl is looking at a picture imagining a family that would love her, and she’s so hopeful. I keep thinking that maybe someday I’ll have a family that loves me the way Anne-Marie ends up with one.

Until then I’m grateful for the family I do have, and the friends that make me whole. They come home to my heart.

Douche of the day

So I don’t give out personal information, especially to some strangers on the internet. My email is whatever.

To sum up:

Random dude on fet said his friend liked me. I gave my email because oh well I ignore emails. Barely spoke, but a couple of times. I just recieved messages again after months of not speaking, and it goes in reverse but here is the following.

Fuck you dude.

[I had made a crack about it being weird 2 dudes are looking at fetish sites together. enjoy…}

Him: Huh? Random? Two dudes?? Ok… a diss.  I get it. A gay joke. Passive aggressive much? No worries. Hmmmmmm….

But, an antisocial response I would expect from someone with a borderline personality disorder or something. I’m no doctor, though, I did minor in human psychology- or maybe you are just high. For a response, you’re a little ‘hammy’, Sammay. 😉

Look, I’m in a good mood following Trump’s karmic defeat, so I will open up to you, a stranger. Why not? Not fun being a private person all the time. So, here it goes, you get to be the one person in the world to hear the true me, and the last. So feel honored. Here it goes:

To be square, I’m kind of an asshole. But I’m brutally honest and there’s integrity in that. Most people would consider me a psychologically-abusive controlling asshole, which is why I avoid relationships. And when I saw your pictures, I thought- she’d be fun to fuck, use for sex, maybe even get knocked up to plant my seed, but no one I would invest in. So maybe you sensed that in me. Good girl. However, looking more closely at your pictures, you are clearly getting older and losing your figure. Guess I saw pictures of you from years ago. So, less interested now.

I was just reaching out a few days ago because I was horny and a touch high, and would’ve been satisfied with a simple hello in return. Just a little flirting. But you had to get unstable on me and here we are now. I guess with fetlife it’s par for the course.haha

If you ever want to grab a coffee, and talk politics or something then I would be down (I’m having fun gloating about Biden, fuck Trump). I would probably even try to seduce you, consensually fuck you, kick you to the curb, get off knowing I hurt you – because I’m sexual sociopath and dead inside. My poor mom was raped when she was a child and I am a product of that rape. It ruins a person being a living abortion like that. Turned me into a bad person that, though I  respect women because of what happened to my mom, I end up using them for sex and ghost them when I get bored. I’m the big bad wolf, so run away little red riding hood.haha Don’t say I didn’t warn you 😉

Seriously though, I don’t know you, but from what little I saw, you seem like a good girl and know better. Which is boring for me… I’m more attracted to danger and damage. So….oh well.

Lemme know if you ever wanted to grab that coffee, never hurts to make a new friend (or bust a new nut if you are into that sorta thing.) Otherwise, take care. Hope you figure your shit out. Gotta go, now be a good girl, Hammy, and ‘say good night to the bad guy’.

Very Truly,


[This is the past couple of emils. Prior to this I had only spoken to him a couple times…]

On Monday, November 9, 2020, SAMMAY SAM wrote: Yeah don’t have any of any prior messages.  Kind of random 2 dudes look at fet together. No biggie I just never check my email. Happened to because I’m waiting on a response for a thing I applied to. Talk to you whenever
On Sun, Nov 8, 2020, 7:45 PM Blake Washington wrote: I don’t have a formal account there. Do you not have a history of our messages/emails here? A friend of mine who does have a fet account put me in touch with you after I spend an evening browsing the site with him, etc. Unfortunately, this is as good as it gets.haha Was hanging out with him the other day, thought I’d cruise fetlife with him, and saw you were still active, and enjoyed some of your cute pictures. Thought I’d give you a shout out.
On Wed, Nov 4, 2020 at 4:10 AM SAMMAY SAM wrote: Yeah sending me a message there would have made sense. I don’t give private info to anyone ……..   
On Wed, Nov 4, 2020, 2:24 AM Blake Washington wrote: Watcha doing. Saw you are still active on Fet. Thought I’d say hello.

Under the sea

UPDATE: it is now 2020 as I write this. I never thought I would ever be able to top Lisa. [Fuck you Lisa, Fuck you]. Had a few run ins. Hell I got fired for getting another job, with no reason. Some people really tested my patience as managers, but then I found Queen of the…demon possessed cunts. This woman is by far a woman who outsucceeds even my mother who is next in line for Lucifer’s chair. The hate I feel in my heart towards her…I hope God forgives you, because I wish your car would blow out tires go 90 miles per hour. Enjoy this add-on because I think I met the worst woman to have crossed paths. You and most of your staff, may God save your lost souls.

This woman almost never smiled, and she hated me from the start. Kev and Beth were all about hiring me, with my hair going from orange to red. I had stripped it with the intent of dying it. Nailed the interview with Beth, changed my hair and they said it was still too bright. I tried dying it many times, still not enough for her

I did however secure a follow up Interview with the General Manager. Crane, that’s what I’m calling her was such a Cunt, even in the interview just radiated around her. So much darkness to her. Even in her eyes…

I’m just putting this here as what I will call the idea that may have been the catalyst into turning her into someone I hope was raped as a child to have been such a bitch.
Her husband died. He didn’t quickly pass. He suffered through cancer, and Crane was responsible for being his care taker. A couple of little birds may have said she resented the fact that was her new gig besides work. Losing someone doesn’t give you the right to treat anyone how she did. She seemed almost resentful of the fact she had to take care of him. For better or worse huh?

She always hated me. She looked at me with hatred in her eyes, and almost a sneer. Think Dolores Umbridge in Harry Potter.

From Day one she tried to find a way to get rid of me, and she was even vocal to other managers about her hatred for me, and I didn’t do anything wrong. Honest I tried to be an employee who went above and beyond. But I was a target.

For her, for several staff members, and even the lady who hit me.

The first of my troubles was a Gay Cowboy. Yes, basically a side cast member in Brokeback Mountain. Thing is, he never deserves to have a love story. He was something Regina George would aspire to be, and it wasn’t Fetch. He tormented me among a select group of people because he hated his life. I accidentally outted him because HE WAS SO GAY HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN WEARING ELTON JOHN OUTFITS. I was given hours of sidework from him and his little clique of people. Bad mouthing me was a constant, along with the same sneer as Crane. Because I wouldn’t break. Before my Instagram got shut down, I used to have countless videos of being tormented, me crying in the bathroom. I didn’t do anything to this kid, and here he was telling a 16 year old girl she wasn’t even a person, along with making a bet with an actual nice girl that he could be nice for a day. It lasted 5 actual minutes, and I’m being serious.

Funny story though, King Greggory and his reign of terror to the staff, along with his evil henchmen came to a screeching halt when I arranged statements from several employees about his behavior towards myself and others. It blindsided him, and he left the building crying shocked when I just stared at him. Kitty has claws sweetie. 

Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness you fucking idiots.

Drinking was a big thing for the staff. They would go on break during a double, and pop over to Old Chicago and down shots and beer. There’s a good chance any of you have had an intoxicated server who was just that extra push of friendly.

See King Greggory, and the merry band of misfits partied more than I ever did in my 0’s every single weekend. To the point there was an incident of a girl blowing coke, and then not coming to work. They loved nose candy, and I heard many stories from people. The ironic part is when they weren’t around him, not only was the shift pretty great, but I wasn’t stuck breaking down the salad bar cooler every night almost, but I could actually enjoy conversation with people. I don’t do fake friends though, especially when their colors were so clear.

One girl woke up late, and was so drunk came to work, they let her stay and wait tables.
Another girl, who was best friends with Crane, announced to me and everyone that the beer was coming out of her pores.
The coke snorter laid on the ground on a sunday morning, still unable to move because I believe she was way past the legal limit.

These are a few examples, because they are very crucial in this story.

It took my soulmate dying for Crane and I to have anything in common. It didn’t last long, obviously, but it was nice to not have to smoke everyday before going in just to be able to tolerate the anxiety that was turning into full blown attacks.

I went straight to work after saying goodbye to the love of my life, and the days were so hard, but I woke up one day after peeing the bed, didn’t bother showering, and went to work. I didn’t smoke that moring, which plays into this, and ended up hearing Semi Charmed Life which always puts me in a goof mood, and get interested in trying meth. I was laughing and jumping around, got pulled into the office where I was accused of them being able to “smell it on me .”

Lady your line cooks get high on their “break”.

I was shocked. It was my first good day at work since Paul died, and being called drunk when sober, and wanting to step out of the box I had been in with the river of pain I was coping with, and with my replies “I’m having a good day.” I was basically forced to leave to leave, while sober was top 5 golden moments at my job, The lady who hit me, My own Karen, jesus they should have just put grill marks on it, and i would not have violently cried in the office. The woman hit me, yelled at me, then repeatedly waved her hand in my face, was still better than what that succubus of happiness brought to the table.

For example I don’t react well to when people tell me they need to talk to me. Scares the shit out of me, and I become a rabbit about fear. I’ll always fight. But imagine fighting off a wolverine while covered in steak. That’s the level of love she radiates. 

There were so many bullshit reasons I either got a write up, and talked to about things that were clearly only affective to me. But that’s bullied for you. My instagram. I made a video talking about how stupid it was that if we could raises our PPA a certain amount set that day, then you had to write why you didn’t get it high enough.

Because people cheap?

This story is closing to an end, at least these ones so far, I swore leaving that job I would forever never afain allow my amazing unique kind of ass that I’m worth more than that treatment, especially in a job where they replace you the same day. 

It was a sunday, and I remember this is because I tend to be night people most shifts. I’ve written about this before but running water gives me panic attacks. That day they had decided to turn the water faquet that was o the line to put spatulas in it. the water go fast and doesnt stop. I used to turn it off the times when I would expodite food. Make it look nice. I also throughly enjoy the multiple things thrown at me, screamed at me. I was called names. Not given parts of meals to make it whole. It was great especially  when Raven, the dark haired girl though she was bad ass because she was a cook, began to smoke crack in my best friend’s house. [Hey Hamelbitch was the one to tell me, not your ex]. She took 110.00 that day, then made a scene about “not in here” while I had posted a FB status about my frustrations, and just like video I made about the Per person average, it was also seen by the manager somehow but only end up with a chat about the instagram post.

That girl wanted to be me. She hated me because of something I didn’t do, but thought fucking the 19 year old dishwasher I had schmooshed before her would make me jealous.

It didn’t I have to say.

my last honorable mention goes to my stalker. Did so much try to screw up a much better job; that you ended up banned from Applebee’s and I filed a restraining order against you. Next time you slit your wrists go deeper.

SO about this time I had been sad  Paul, and that second I still hadn’t taken a moment to grieve losing the love of my life.

I have severe panic attacks. I kid you not I collapsed and army crawled a couple of times I have for my meds there. By this time I was so on the verge of a nervous breakdown that the job and the stress I felt there was a major factor of my falling apart. 

I walked into the kitchen, and  saw them trying to screw the handle back on, and water pouring out at such a ferocity. The thought of waisting water began  to creep into my chest with pure, crippling terror. I rememer becoming lightheaded, and i thought I had it under control and went to grab the salad dishes I left at a side station. I grabbed them, and thats when I began to lose the ability to walk, let alone stand, so i slid down the wooding back to a booth. My manager Marc rushed over to me, and all I could say is “I can’t stand. I can’t feel my legs”. He asked if I wanted to call 911, but I told him no I would be okay.

Sat down with the District Manager, and came to the realization That I needed time to grieve. I poured my heart into work and the treatment I got piled into my severe mental problems. I sat with a handful of my sleeping pills because I mentally snapped. I wasn’t sleeping for  more than 2 hours a night, 4-5 if I was lucky. I was accussed of lying because I would have died. No  you fuck sticks, Manic Depresssion mixed with Insomnia is why my brain works the way it does. ` I ended up being sniffed by coworkers because they apparently assumed I smelled like any substance that kept me without mind rest for a month. 

I ended up with a week off of work and that’s when I tried to grieve my loss of Paul. It involved barehanding a rotiserrie chicken, and watching P.S. I Love You. It took trying to go to 3 different Targets to locate it. I needed it. The story is of a woman losing the love of her life, and her journey to figure out life. There’s more to the movie than just that simple sentence. It’s a classic.

I went back to Red Lobster, and my whole stance on life had changed. Before, and after. I came back to people complaining about extra sidework, and here I had just watched the love of my life slowly die in a coma after a car pinned his head again a curb. I had never been mean to a single person there, and while I cried in booths about an unimaginable loss and pain I still feel to this day, I had endured 2.5 years of torment from people who treated me like shit, but were kind to my face. 
There was a gay flight attendant who left, and tried roasting all of us. He referred to me as a helicopter and that I was always buzzing around either telling my business to people, or in people’s business. It’s the same guy who used to come rub my back and tell me his problems, or people would unload their business on me. People assume that just because I listen, that means I want to to begin with.

The day I quit was simple.

There was a miscommunication over a table and a section. She raised her voice to me, which she’s about the same level of kindness of my mother, and I went to the office and told my favorite manager “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t.” He talked me off the ledge and I was ready to go back at it. Crane rounded the corner, and deviously knew she found her loophole. Sent me home for the night, and I went to Olive Garden to apply for a job.

I came back the next day, forced in a sit down with some random manager. Tries laying into me, then basically tells me I’m let go. I told her it was fine, that I would go somewhere else were I was treated with respect and not talked to like I was a piece of shit. SHE was so pissed she wasn’t getting the reaction out of me she thought she would. She was like “Fine. You do that”.

I shook her hand, thanked her, and told her I wish her nothing but the best. The vile look in her eyes, the seething hatred she had spent building up against me was fabulous. You could tell she had a dream of throwing me out, and I squashed that dream. All she could muster was a “You too.” Of course she felt the need to walk me out, like I was going to reenact the “I’m not going to cause a scene!” Scene from Half Baked.

I left that day, and I felt so much better. My mental health improved, while all these people were left to drown in that toxic enviroment. I’ve seen a few of them out, and had to leave. Not a fear of confrontation, more a fear of the charges I would catch with the seething rage I still feel against them. Some have left to avoid me. There was someone who passed away, and somehow months after I left I was notified, like I had to be upset. This person and I hooked up, and I lent him money. He then became friends with all the people who treated me like shit. My only response was “well I’m not getting that 50 bucks back.”
I was bombarded with messages calling me horrible names, told at my funeral they wouldn’t speak highly of me, and even brought Paul into the mix. It’s cute how you’re trying to compare the greatest friend who ever lived, to the guy who fucked the crackhead like they were trying to rub it in my face. I see you don’t worry.

I’m sure there’s more that I’ll add after this ending, I’ve had to block out because my rage boils and I know I would hurt someone. All I can say is I’ve dealt with demons as of late, but this place? There was evil in the eyes of somany people. Be leery of those little soulless beings asking you if you want another round of endless shrimp.  They’ll stab you in the back as quickly as look at you, always with a devious smile.

Rose Colored Glasses

It really didn’t strike me, my purpose of all, my group, countless books, and yet just insane rambling of this, until a story shared by a woman I have never met shook me to my core. :
“It feels like this needs to be posted on. I’m gonna ignore the posts that don’t keep with the theme. My first boyfriend was in 6th grade. He still deserves mentioned. Even though I was only 11, he pressured me to have sex with him. He tried to feel me up in class while we were watching the original Mummy. He cheated on me with two of my best friends and one he had sex with He spread rumors we’d had sex at school. He tried to make me cut out my stomach fat with a knife (he wanted me to give myself a liposuction). He threatened to hurt me if I ever broke up with him. When I DID break up with him, he threatened to put flaming dog poo on my porch and put viruses on my computer. He left a message on my voicemail afterwards that said “I want your pussy.” Keep in mind this is pre-cell phone, so this was left on my home phone… He tried to grab me and force me to be with him and is to this day the only guy I ever kicked in the balls on purpose. I really started off great on the whole dating thing.

In the moment reading that, I realized what I needed to do. I needed to become a support system for abuse victims. That in itself was a journey. Men won’t talk about it, where as I have found that women are more vocal once they find out they aren’t alone. That is why we stay. We think we’re the only ones, that we deserve this, and I believe the only person who deserves this is Pearl Hernandez. I can’t stop thinking about the Gabriel Fernandez case and to see how you could do that to a child? It doesn’t matter what happened in your life. You break what I call the vicious cycle of abuse.
I realized that anyone has probably experienced the vicious cycle of abuse, honestly. I describe it as the person you are with now loved someone very bad, and it turned them into that person, and then you found them. They inflict that anger on you and you have done nothing to deserve it. But they’re angry and can’t help it. When you escape, you’re left with so much anger you give it to the next person. So on. So forth.
Break that cycle. Please. If not for yourself, but for your children. They will grow up to repeat the pattern most of the time. Some learn, but I didn’t. I was a Winner myself for a long time. Mean, angry, and abusive. To those who got my wrath I am sorry. Truly. But it doesn’t excuse your part as well.
So in closing, you need to get out. It will never get better. They will never change and you are wasting your life and happiness thinking they will. I understand if you’re like me and mommy didn’t love you. But in all seriousness, you deserve to know your worth. You deserve the world and you deserve someone who doesn’t make you feel complete when they are beating the shit out of you. If you are dating a “winner” in the following stories, please know I love you so much. I’m sorry you can’t see through the rose colored glasses. ❤

Simply the best email i’ve ever recieved.

Oh my fucking god. To this day this is the best email exchange I’ve ever had. Erotic, and yet there’s so much going on. I just cried when I found it today…

Allow me to introduce My future master House of Drago. If you see 4y that’s from how long ago these messages of enticement were sent. Allow me to also add that This took off running. Not even a hello before that.

HouseofDrago 50M Master4y

You been instructed to wear a short skirt no panties no bra and high heels……you are a bit nervous…But excited at the new possibilities of being taken to new levels of squirting orgasms and so much more…..You hear a knock on the door…You are standing there looking very sexy….I’m dressed in My black Armani suit…..You lead me in…as the door shuts I take you and slam our bodies against the door…kissing you with deep passion……I take the my custom Dragon collar in my hand and put it arrived your neck…..You moan….You look around as you lead me to the bed….i tell you to sit down and close your eyes…..i then do some things to the room…..i say open your eyes and stand up…..i lead you to the bed….You see the restraints already set up..You look at the table and see stuff you never seen before….A turbo wand…Two of them..a few very interesting attachments that go on them….Then you see a few bullet vibrators, a few vibrating butt plugs of different sizes….You see anal sensation lube…And other lube..Then you see the whips, floggers, crop….paddles…some interesting custom ones you never seen before….your getting wet with a crazy imagination…..that is when you feel me behind you….I grab your hair…I bite down on your neck….but not a bite like you ever felt before….vibrating teeth bite that is driving you crazy….You think omg….I’m getting weak already…..I Do this tell I am holding you up…..I then bend you over…take out my hard Cock….gently teasing your pussy…..please I want to feel you…a you are begging me…..I then slam my Cock deep inside your tight pussy…teasing you with it…I then take my Cock out and put it away…..I take off what clothes you have on….put you on the bed….I put you in restraints….I take out the first bullet vibrator and stick it deep inside your pussy…..I turn it on high…You go crazy….I then take nipple claps and attach them on your nips……I go back to your pussy…and Do my amazing magic spot with my fingers deep inside you… my other hand diss another magic spot under your clit…..You are squirting everywhere…orgasm after orgasm…You scream omg….I never felt like this before……what are you doing…..I then stop…I take the first size of the vibrating butt plug abd lube it with the sensation lube…I slowly insert it deep into your arse……I turn it on…omg you scream…the vib in your pussy and now one in your arse…I then go back and do my two magic spot as the vibs are going crazy…You are now squirting orgasms uncontrollable…..I Do this for a very long time n…please Master can I take a break…..I say not yet..hold this next one for me….So you hold it and I start doing my amazing magic spots again….after about 5 minutes…You are begging me to cum…please I can’t hold it anymore please….I say cum now…You scream with the most amazing orgasm you ever had….I then take my fingers out…I turn off the vibs….I release one of the restraints so you can drink some bottle water…..That was part one

Sammaysam 32F Brat4y thats more exciting than my actual sex life. At least I got to drink water! does there need to be a part 2?

HouseofDrago 50M Master4y

Yes part two three and more…Would love to make the story Cum true and take you to new levels odd amazing pleasure….I will send part two soon…Un Baci BellaHouseofDrago 50M Master4y

You finish with the water…I then put you back into the restraint….I then turn on the two vibs…one in your pussy…the other in your arse…..your already going crazy….I take the Turbo wand of the table…I take my fingers deep inside you on my magic spot again….I then take the Turbo wand in my other hand and turn it to full vibrate….I place it right under your clit…but it’s so big it covers from all of the clit and under….you scream so load omg….your squirting orgasms are getting so intense…you can barely stand it…all three vibrating at the same time and then my fingers deep inside you on magic spots…..I keep rotating making you cum harder and harder… are begging me please I can’t take anymore…so I go even more intense and tell you to hold it….you are holding it….hurting a little..but feeling so amazing at the same time ….I then tell you to release and cum for me….you tighten and scream with even more squirting orgasms that won’t stop… huge continuing orgasms you never felt before….I then turn off all three… are already exhausted… tell me..I have never ever felt that way before…..and I say well I just got started….I give you more water….you are now rested again…I then turn on the two that are inside your pussy and arse….Master please i want to feel you deep inside me… I take off my clothes…..I get on top….the two vibrating bullet and plug are still going…..I then slowly tease your pussy with my cock…..I slowly go inside you..a little at a time teasing you…..I then slam my cock deep inside you….you go crazy grabbing the rope…..tight….you never felt anything like this before….a bullet vib in your pussy….the butt plug vib in your arse…and a hard bare cock inside your tight pussy…..I go slow then fast…I then take my thumb place it on my magic spot under your clit and drive you crazy….your now squirting all over my cock with so many orgasms…Master I never felt like this before….omg……I then reach over and grab the Turbo wand…I turn it to medium high….I place it on the clit…you flinch and squirting orgasms again and again…I say hold the next one……you hold it…I tease and slam over and over again… ate going crazy now….all three vibs going and cock deep inside you…..please may I cum….please please please…..I say now…you grab on with all your might to the restraints…..have the most amazing orgasms….you didn’t think it could get any better……pls cum for me I want to feel it….I say no not yet…..I turn off all the vibs take my cock out…..and let you rest…. .tell me what you are thinking little Bella

Sammaysam 32F Brat4y It’s a very great story. [Side note I and several friends admired his bravado. I couldn’t help but lose my shit. What the fuck are you shoving things in my ass for? Also why are you calling me Bella? You are not my Edwards. They did not play these games!]

HouseofDrago 50M Master4y Thank you Bella…would love to take you to new levels of pleasure sexy veils…

Sammaysam 32F Brat4y Hello

HouseofDrago 50M Master4y Ciao sexy little Bella amore…how are you this day????

Sammaysam 32F Brat4y Good. At my playtoys house [This was my attempt to get away from the conversation or him somehow thinking i was remotely interested in 75 shades of rape].

HouseofDrago 50M Master4y Your must be having fun little Bella

[Annnnnnnnnd wait there is more erotica to come]

HouseofDrago 50M Master4y

I let you rest for a while….but still playing with you…..I slowly turn on the vibrating butt plug… twitch and jump….I start playing with your wet pussy…you don’t realise my other hand is about to turn on the vibrating bullet deep inside you….you start to go wild again……I then spread your pussy lips…I put my very long fingers deep inside you….doing my amazing magic spot n…but then you jump ad my mouth starts doing is amazing sucking with a licking motion…..not just your clit…but my magic spot right under your clit …..My sucking and licking motion..takes you over the edge…you scream I didn’t think it can get better…but omg what ate you doing to me….your drying me crazy…as you start squirting orgasms…..i tug on the nipple claps and you just can’t stop orgasms after orgasms….you can’t tell if it’s one continuing or many many back to back….My fingers are doing this swirl that is making you go into another new level of pleasure….I tell you to hold the next one….you hold….it in…I then go crazy with all my magic spots….after about 10 min…you beg pls please…I can’t take it….please I beg you may I cum….I say now release….you start squirting all over and the exotic erotic orgasm that seemed to last forever…..May I rest and drink my love you beg……I say ok….and turn everything off….part three for you…..maybe one day you will want the real thing Bella

HouseofDrago 50M Master4y

Guess your to scared for the real thing….be safe little Bella

How will I ever find a man to compare to Drago Malfoy?

Vacuum Cleaner

Kesha’s “thinkin of you” is what I play when I want to take a baseball bat to his face.

In case you haven’t noticed it, I’m a very angry person. Years of being a punching bag for people have made me into a dark sinister being. I have to qwell it, but i feel it. Since editing books and coming face to face with how truly dark and angry I am, I’m realizing how terrified I am of myself.

Yesterday I raged so hard I put a hole in 3 of my roommates doors.
I screamed my pain since losing Reginald.
There is a bruise that takes up half of my arm because I threw myself into the wall. Screaming at whatever demons that are in my house, to get out.
That is it’s own story.
My mother was the first demon I truly battled.
There was one though, that still to this day has rocked me to my core.

It’s taken 15 years before I could face this.
He’s a lot of the reason I am the way I am, and in some ways I owe him a huge fucking thank you.
But also?
I hope you die in a dumpster fire.

I used to believe you should sleep with someone you loved. My dream was to lose my virginity to my dream man, and then fall in love, get married. Maybe kids. Who knows.
I was 17 and an idiot.
Jesus such an idiot.
He was in my senior class in school, and although we never really saw each other, it was his eyes that made me fall in love.
I should have taken need and not ignored the fact he had been fucking artard when he jerked off into a water bottle and they dumped it onto my cousin’s head.
Frasure was my world.

I’ll never forgive him.
But I owe him.

He was the first boy I loved. Ever.
He was everything I ever knew love to be. and JESUS I hate myself to this day.
He was the one who broke my soul. My spirit, who I was.
I didn’t know I could bleed so badly until I busted open 2 of my rommates doors.
Writing this is this most…emotionally painful thing.
I’m crying on Mother’s day. Ironically he just wished me a Happy Mother’s Day.
I told him to die in a dumpster fire.

I have always had problems. I am the dumpster fire of most relationships. I love to hard. I’m so many things, but I love deeply. I love in such a way that nobody could ever love me. Borderline Personality broke me.
My mother severly sufferers, but my mommy broke me.
I’m crying as I write this.
Because I was 17 and in love.
I was a lot of things, but I didn’t know who I was.
I believed I should save myself for marriage
When I lost my virginity it was after dating for a few months.
I believed you loved that person.
This is the god damned trash fire of pain that I have ever felt in my life. More than Paul, and a pain I have never felt how bad I could want to die in my life. I have been trying to write this for hours.
Even after he told me to kill myself.
Frasure is the person I owe it to.
Frasure is so many things, but he’s a great dad
I hate him to this day.
When I was 17 I had a dream of being this person.
I was not.

I spent my life having this idea of what love could be. I have never been the same.
I met him our senior year of high school and I was so in love with him.
There was nothing special about him, even to this day when I write about him. Honestly I would have rather been straight punched in the vagina….by a lawn dart.
He was this stoner type, which I didn’t know what they were back in the day. He had this laugh, that god help me haunts my brain until this day. I wish so badly that it didn’t.
I’m blanking on how we met. I think it was so random, but he looked at me with those eyes, and my god 17 year old me screamed in a way that I had never felt in my life.
So before him my ex Sean Ryan, who smoked crack with a homeless guy, who has now passed away which I’m sure is due to all the drug use reaally broke me.
Funny story about myself, I used to believe in love.
I used to believe that you should save yourself for love. I had this fucked up vision how my life would go. I thought that I was supposed to be a type of way, and that being pure in my own way could help me find a love from God that I didn’t know I was lacking.
When you’re 17 you still have this idea in your brain. Writing this has made me so physically ill. I’ve cried, screamed. Put my fist into multiple doors. But I have to pour this out to paper.
Frasure wrecked me life, and defined my existence at the same time.
Mental illness is definitely a hereditary trait, and a learned behavior.
Today I asked my father how to forgive my mother, Mother’s day 2020.
My mother was and still the deepest demon I will ever encounter in my life.
My heart hurts for her because God will never forgiver her, and it isn’t her fault.
My mother is still so angry. To the point she went on my blog to tell me I’m a disappointment to her and God and I need to pray the gay away.
When I met Frasure I thought we would get married. I believed that I had found the love of my life. When we broke up, My senior year of highschool was a dumpster fire.
For people who don’t understand Borderline Personality Disorder I can explain it.
So many things all at once.
I’m always in my head.
I feel so many things at once, and can’t explain why I react the way I do.
I feel everything, especially being an empath. I take every story, every sad dog video, and I feel it on a level that not one sane person could ever feel.
I want to scream my pain at you so you can see it too. Because I hurt.
My mother did a great job as a single mom but my fucking lord was she angry.
My dad left her for my stepmother, which is a Jerry Spriner shitshow in itself, but this isn’t her story.
It’s his.
I can’t.
My heart still bleeds for him. The loss of my idea of what a dream was.
I’m over it, but I miss who I was and could’ve been.
Even after I told his wife the truth about what happened, and he told me to kill myself.
Frasure made me into who i am to the core.
Like I said I used to believe sex was something you waited for. That you fell in love, and then somehow it magically is the end all be all. I’ve had at least 15 marriage proposal in my glorious age of 32, and I feel there may be more to come.
As I write this, my throat is burning from the nyquil/vodka combination, but I think I just threw up the hardest I ever have, because I don’t want to face it.
Frasure was the person who defined me, because he made me know I could fall in love.
I was 17, and I was so fucking stupid.
I met him and my heart melted in the way that Allie met Noah in the notebook. I thought he was kind awkward way, but he was it. Holy fuck did I fall deep. I went so far down that rabbit hole. I didn’t know how to love, or what lust was. I fell so deep because he woke me up.
Thinking back now I see that it was that emotional dysregulation that made me a wack job.
For example I am so needy, which has gotten worse over the years. He brought it out of me.
He was what I dreamed my future husband would be. I fell harder than I could ever dream of feeling. He had that smile. Holy fuck that smile. I feel like Hannah Baker in 13 reasons why.
That damned smile.
He had this sheepish grin, and the darkest shaggy hair. But his voice was the most intoxicating thing about him. I can never describe to this day why I fell for him, but I did and I went batshit crazy.
I will never force someone to love me, but I needed him to love me as much as I did him.
I went insane. I called multiple times when he was on vacation.
I’m that person who will call you and tell you I know what you’re hiding and I will find your 2007 tax return to verify what you are hiding. I will also threaten to kill you and burn your house down while you sleep. Because when I love, I go batshit insane.
Frasure is what turned me into me.
I remember my 17th birthday clear to this day.
He gave me crabs.
An actual hermit crab. I tried to set the poor thing on fire because my rage turned me psycho.
I remember sitting on his floor, crying, because he broke up with me and I didn’t understand how it hurt to love so much. I would’ve done anything for him. I would’ve laid my life down if it meant I could see his stupid smile.
Alas like every great love story, they come to an end.
I lost my fucking mind with this boy. It’s not his fault. Even now he is letting me tell him I’m going to kill him, but it’s 17 year old me. It was never him. It was a virgin with severe mental illness that never found the help I needed from Kelly, and nobody would take the time to help me. Mental illness is real, and having Borderline Personality Disorder I love so deep that it can be terrifying.
I admit I am a mixturea of gallon of fire,  but never doubt that I love. I tattooed that on my leg.

Frasure taught me alot of things, but one thing that I am so proud of is that we never had sex.
I believed in my perfect envision of my future could be, and I never gave in. Granted he nicknamed me Vacuum Cleaner in high school because…well that is a secret between me and the movie theater that showed “Without a Paddle”. One of my favorite movies, and he held my hand through the movie.
When you’re young you think love is beautiful. Love is pain.
I remember to this day that moment when I had my first real heartache. It was Labor Day, and I was at my grandmother for her annual picnic when she was alive.
Back then I never dreamed how badly I craved love. Still talk about my severe mommy issues, and I think I felt that in him. Because I still remember when he called me on his vacation.
He had previously told me he watched Open Water, and it changed how he saw the world.
We would get married, we could have babies, and I’ve never cried as much as I did that night.
I still believe he was the one who killed my soul. I tried dating after him, and I convinced myself that I loved my ex boyfriend Jacob, but I never really did. I lost my virginity to him to “The Princess Bride”, and he loved Savage Garden. I don’t want to talk about it.
I never have fully recovered from him and the fact he broke up with me over the phone.
I was dealing with the horrific train wreck that is my mother’s side of the family, when I recieved a call.
“Hey so I have to talk to you”
I don’t remember exactly how it went, but I will never forget how much pain I felt because I didn’t realize how deep I love. It involves him telling me how he had cheated on me with one of my friends while he was drunk. She confirmed later he was sober because he wanted to drive her car. Nobody drunk would drive her car.

Whatever the case was I searched a camper looking for a plastic knife to cut myself with and my mom screaming at me because I wouldn’t play Bocce ball with her. My cousin and I hate eachother. He threatened to kill him because his little cousin was crying.
Thank you Frasure.
You ruined me senior year of high school. I remember wanting to die as I huffed markers because I needed you to love me, and the thing is it was me. I did a lot of things, but the worst thing I have ever done in my life was love you.

Yet, here I am.

Can I catch ya later, cuz it’s my jam….

I owe you so much because you set me on my own course of adventure to now putting this in my 4th book.


Vacuum Cleaner

Yeah yeah, #Metoo

He wore a sweater vest.
I was sober.
One thing I am very open about is my sexual life. To the point most people are like “stop talking about butt stuff!”
I am very active on POF, and I find a never ending cycle of fuck wits. I have come to the understanding that I will probably always be alone. I feel like having six more pugs and maybe a zoo of animals would be better than the barrage of complete fuckwits that try to get into my Dm’s. Emails that get lost in a sea of “hey beautiful….hey sexy….” of compliments from men I don’t know. I appreciate the thought of you wanting to make me feel beautiful. It doesn’t. It’s nothing personal, it’s just due to what I’m about to write about. Those messages along with offensive things said to me by men.
All I have to say is “What would your mother think?” What would your mother think if she knew you were saying to a woman “Hey can I blow a hot load on your chest?” instead of a “Hey how is your day going?” Do you actually find someone who says yes? DO you realize what a fucking creatin you actually are? You are probably the guy who puts drugs in womens drinks, and are a certified date rapists. Along with random dudes who send dick pics.
There are dicks you want to see, and dicks you don’t. Don’t get me wrong I’ve done the sexting thing. Who really hasn’t now in 2020…oh god I just pictured my dad and stepmom doing it. Heard it once. I could not put on headphones faster. Thanks for putting my room right under yours!
But seriously I don’t really send nudes. It’s never been my thing. I will rock the shit out of lingerie and sexy photos. But I genuinely like the seduction part of you getting to see me naked in person.
Webcamming though, that’s probably one of the bigger kinks I do enjoy WHEN I like someone. That part will come later in the story.
One thing i’ve learned about topics is that if you aren’t educated on a topic, you’ll look like an idiot. Be it religion, sports, or my favorite subject “Human sexual Behavior” I find it so fascinating I even took a class on it in college. I find people and this so fascintating that I was fortunate enough through Skipper, to have discovered the website.
It’s basically Facebook for the BDSM kink lifestyle.
Funny enough I’m in groups trying to learn about people who want to shove ginger in their peehole, and why, which is called figging, I have seem so many butthole photos from strangers. The thing is, the nakedness, and everything is part of their own lifestyle. It isn’t creepy like random dudes on Instagram presenting their dicks like cats showing off a mouse it just killed. Fetlife has lead to many conversation of “Why do I like to drink my boyfriend’s pee?”
Fetlife also lead to one of the creepiest stalker moments in my entire life.
Lonestar was poppin, and I was in my server groovy mood. The host came upto me, and all I heard was “Scott is here for your section.”
Who. The. Fuck. Is. Scott.
Up until that minute I had only known of one person named Scott, I had never met. He was an editor for a magazine through where I went to therapy, and I wrote a piece for the magazine. Look at “The broken can be beautiful” if you are interested. It was never published, but I’ve definitely known that I am a paticuliar type of writing for certain people. I’m raw. Broken. An animal ready to rip out the throat of anyone that comes near it, and laugh as they suffer. I have demons. I have seen them. They have shown me their true face, and I see the hell I’ve fought to survive. That’s another story.
So I walk up to the host stand , and I see a random man sitting on the bench. Servers usually have 3 table sections. Mine was full…
For an hour and 45 minutes this “Scott ” person waited for my section.
The first thing that this gentleman said was “I know you, but you don’t know me.”
Okay Jigsaw. You want to play a game?
So I have this trait in me that when I’m nervous that I start giggling in the weirdest way like “Heh heh heh heh” in a high pitched tone.
Believe me. This happened for the many interactions with this guy.
“Oh really? Do you. I’m so sorry I can’t place you. I apologize.”
Some small talk happened, because he was a customer, and I have bills to pay. But somehow this guy knows me. How though? I couldn’t place him. Not on dating website apps even.
Then he said the magic words: “I’m going to show you an email, and that’s how you’ll know where I know you from.”
In that minute. I knew.
How the fuck did he find out where I work? On most places I won’t post where I work. For instances like this. The ick factor. The creepy dudes like this guy. This fucking guy.
He pulls up an email from Fetlife.
Are you fucking kidding me? The last place on earth I would ever tell anyone I worked is that website. Nothing personal, but I don’t want dudes who ask to jerk off to my photos to know where I worked. But somehow this guy figured it out. What the actual fuck?
I’m going to sum up how the rest of this interaction went, and what followed because I’ve spoken of him, but this isn’t his story. He’s just a reminder of why I don’t attempt to date:
I laugh nervously the while time. He stared at me. To the point he would crane his neck to watch me walk in the kitchen. I felt eyes on me everytime I loved.
It turns out he found me through my old trash roommate’s page. Not Skipper, the one who saw spirit animals. She was trash, and another story. He had never spoken to her, but discovered her writing, attached himself to her, then found me. She had never spoken to her.
My coworkers knew I was freaked out. They pulled me into the side station, and pretty much said “what the FUCK!”. He of course figured out my reactions were to him. He said “Oh have I given you something to talk about?” I replied, nervous laughter “oh you know…nobody has ever done anything like this before. Just very…sweet I guess?”
He threatned to stab me in the face.
On Fet you can pick whatever role you feel you suit. I of course feel like a Mashocist, so what I picked that what I identify as. I happened to get on his page real quick, and he picked Sadomashocist. That is someone who wants to inflict pain upon someone else. I also am very open about the fact that I prefer the Dom/ brat lifestyle. It’s not about anything more than I like the control in my life because I like the control that keeps me in check. I am a wild horse, as Carrie Bradshaw would say. “Maybe some women aren’t meant to be tamed. Maybe they just need to run free until they find someone just as wild to run with.”
So as I walked over, I saw the shrimp skewer. At the time before that trash restaurant closed, we were running a special. I think it was a sirloin or filet, with a skewer of shrimp.
He picks up the skewer. “Your piercings…”
Me: “Yeah..can’t wear them at work!”
Him: “I’ve been wondering what this would be good for.” As he starts waving the skewer around.
Me: No reaction.
He wanted to shove the skewer through my faceholes on my piercings.
In that moment I had to get away from him. It hit the point that my still roommate watched him leave in his car to get a licsesne plate. Thankfully he filled out a club memember ship that I still have to this day, so if I ended up murdered I had his information for the cops. Funny enough he messaged me a couple times after. Trying to get even creepier. He told me that he tried to extend his hand in friendship, and he gave me money because he felt bad for me….
He left me 4 dollars. If you stalk a bitch go with at least 5.
I also figured out how he found out where I worked.
When I started Fet I put up a link to The Winner I Dated. So many broken people. He went through 600 people at the time, to find me, and put where I worked up. He even said “Oh you work at the Budweiser Center too don’t you.” That’s how he found me. Because I wanted to help people. He claimed to drop a name of a girl that was there, who had no idea who he was.
Worst stalker moment to date.
This isn’t his story. I think I needed to share it in order to cope with what I’m about to write.
To all the women who have survived sexual assualt of all kinds I am so sorry. It’s a terror that until you experience you can shut the fuck up with your opinion. With your opinion on abortion, on how women feel, on anything that involves being defenseless against anyone.You have no idea what it’s like to be a woman who is used for her body. To have men paw at her, like a dog you can’t fight off that’s trying to maul and rape you at the same time.
To feel something enter your body, and you don’t want it is beyond traumatizing. Be it a boyfriend, or a husband. A stranger.
Women are beautiful creatures. They are gentle as they are fierce. They are so priceless, and so many men attack them because they know they can’t fight back. Men hate rejection worse than women. I think Men see it as a sense of their ego. That because they believe they might be ugly. Most have the ability take this with a grain of salt.
Some do not.
Rapists aren’t something you pick out on the street. Rapists don’t stand in front of a sign saying “I’m a rapist.”
Rapists are people who come to you as friends.
When I was 19 my life changed forever. It wasn’t something I ever thought I would end up being who I am not. I was still pretty good. a couple break ups in I knew I need to be single.
I’ve written about this before, but there was Evan. I rarely use names, but this is one of the main traumas in my Hannah Baker’s life. 13 reasons why,
We met at at a server job. he had those blue eyes that made you just melt. I was slightly a trash panda in this story. I had started to mess around with his roommate, and the dude made me lose interest quick. He gave up sex for lent….okay whatever.
Evan and I started to get close at work. He became a very close work boyfriend. I would giggle while he said things. Here was this blonde hair, blue eyed, frat boy who was a person I called “my minion” and I would think about kissing him.
I was 19 then, 32 now.
That’s how long attacks last. There will be several moments of it still in my future. Mix in the fact that they never stop.
Somedays are wonderful. I don’t have the flashes.
When Evan called me that night. I answered like a friend.
Here was the guy I saw as someone who made me giggle.
Boys didn’t make me giggle.
I found myself really liking a boy. I couldn’t explain it id I tried,.
That night.
He called me saying that him and his roommates were fighting. But I watched him turn off the light.
He was clean. He smelled clean. he had a nice shirt on.
I took him to my apartment.
Nobody was there.
But I liked him so it was okay.
I tried to lay him do down.
I told him he needed to go to bed.
He wouldn’t lay down.
But I liked him so it was okay.
He tried kissing me
I asked him to stop
But I liked him so it was okay.
He began to get heavier
While I told him no I didn’t want to.
But I liked him so it was okay.
I remember asking him to stop
while he went at me
like a dog not caring that his prey was still alive.
After that moment I broke.

In the moment I realized that I didn’t care anymore. Not much longer after that, I watched my ex cheat on me in front of me. Writing about it before made me snap.
In those moments I realized that all men wanted me for was my body, and I didn’t care. I decided to kill men’s spirits with my body. Many drunk nights convinving guys I liked then, told them what they wanted to hear, and then crushing them after. I felt the evil, and the anger course through my body then.
The problem was I had already expierenced such a level of trauma then, that alcohol was the only way to cope. I drank until i couldn’t feel feelings anymore, which helped temporarily. I also poured myself into making friendships with guys because being alone at night with my thoughts made the trauma more in my face.
If I’m not attracted to you, you get put into the friend catergory.
It’s nothing personal, but we all have people we aren’t attracted to. It’s nothing against you. We are attracted to certain people, and there’s no amount of crying or pleading from you that will change your mind. Yes I’ve gone through a dude crying while I tried x for the only time in my life. He was crying because I wouldn’t date him. Why wouldn’t I? Well I was never really attracted to him, but he left me passed out drunk get things done to me by a big black guy.
Guys have never accepted rejection well. Nobody likes rejection, but I have learned that men go off the deep end. You tell a guy “I only see you as a friend” and most lose their everloving minds. I get dudes who freak out on me, and can’t accept my lack of attraction. “You only like dudes who are assholes!”
Obviously. My own things though.
The sad part in in my drinking, there was a lot of goggles to my vision of what these men I let into my life were. I saw good dudes I could hang out with, and feel safe. They would see a passed out girl, who didn’t want them, and here was the chance they had been after…
Several guys saw that passed out girl.
This isn’t their story though.
This is his.
We met on POF. he was in a sweater vest, and I thought it meant maybe he was a little more of a put together gentleman. We also met on Fetlife, which played a part in our conversation, and how I assume things went down. I’m very upfront with what I’m after, what type of relationship I seek, all the good stuff.
We talked for a week, and I finally felt comfortable enough to meet him. I’m very cautious after all these years of dating. I don’t tell anyone I were I work when they ask. I don’t give out my address to meet them at my house before we meet first, and I say that I want to grab a beer but that’s mostly because I want them to get out of a police line up if I go missing.
I had about an hour left of my shift, so I told him he should come up to grab a drink. Next door to Red Lobster is an Old Chicago. 50 feet away, and where I spent several nights after working at a soul sucking hell hole. That gig was what I imagine working for a person with absolutely a cold dead heart, and no soul must be like.
The first clue that something was wrong with this guy.
My bartender Crystel came up to me in tears. He was waiting at the bar for me, and the first thing she said “Hoy cow he’s an asshole.” She told me he made a comment to her, but I also know she was sensitive about lots of things. I also knew he had been a Marine, and Marine’s are a level of asshole that even surpass my own. Military men have a cockiness to them that are a complete turn on. I love a man in uniform, and they will always be one of my biggest kinks.
I decided to give the date a shot anyways.
God do I still regret this decision.
I’m getting past the point of having the desire to write about this anymore so I’m just going to sum it up very quickly.
The date was one of what I could only imagine my nightmares of dates to ever be the bane of my existence. He was an insufferable cunt. He was so full of himself, and it got to the point that he was talking to me about smashing married men’s wives while they watched because it was a patriotic duty they expierenced for their country.
The more I sat the the more I wanted to punch myself in the face. He was awful. I told him that I would rather slam my head off the countertop instead of listening to him talk. I didn’t finish my pint beer. I almost always had at least 2 on a date. But this one was so bad I needed to get away from him.
I excused myself because I needed to go home…and that’s when it happened.
I was politely walking with him to my car, and he started pawwing at me. Wouldn’t get his hands off me. I told him he needed to stop, that I wasn’t interested. He basically then tried to assert his dominance over met, because we had talks about that area etc…
Talking about it, and absolute agreeance on a subject are 2 very different things.
Like i said there was such a short walk to my car…
By the time we got there he had been continuously trying to get me into the car with him, to have sex. I kept protesting that I wasn’t interested. But he started to get forceful.
Then it happened.
He grabbed me by the hair.
He started to choke me.
He bit my neck.
He slammed me up against my car.
Then he shoved his hand down my pants.
While I told him needed to stop.
He tried to get me into his truck.
I refused. While he molested me all over.
I think ultimately what saved me was the fact that I said “This is my job. If they come out and I’m having sex, I will get fired.”
He then kissed me, told me “you don’t know what you’re missing.” then he walked away, and got into his blue truck.
I remember it was blue.
Then I sat in my car and cried.
So many people asked me why I didn’t call the police.
I freeze when these things happen. I’m an opposum.

After that night I wouldn’t leave the house for a year. I still see it to this day. I think it affects me more because I was sober. Drunk me is able to seperate the trauma, but sober me still remembers how afraid I was. How to this day people touching me still makes me panic. But I still am very grateful to have my plan in place. I also learned that web-camming actually made me feel safe. That I wasn’t being touched, but it was still a sign of attention.
To all the women who really have been affected by an assualt of any kind, and men too. As long as you are telling the truth, I will always stand beside you.



FEBRUARY 28, 2019

If I wrote about pain,

I would have to write about my life since an early age.

I would speak of a mother who was angry, so angry at the world for things put upon her from her own doing. She mentally destroyed the one creature she was given to protect, because small punching bags are no match for a factory worker with bulging muscles, she taught me to live in fear.

If I wrote about pain I would tell tales of torment started by school mates. Years of being harassed, and told to kill myself by several classmates on a note in my locker. The girls calling me a lesbian because I played softball and I walked differently, and the boys that promised to love me breaking up with me because I wouldn’t sleep with them.

If I wrote about pain, I would write about the first traumatic event of my adult life, I think what turned me into the rabid feral animal that I am. Of how that night I picked you up, and you smelled like fresh cologne which didn’t feel right. You claimed you need a place to stay, the one I called my minion, and I gave it to you;

Along with a part of my soul, when you took my body away from me. As I cried and begged you to just stop, you saying ‘Come on you know you want to” until I finally just did because…..what other options did I have? I liked you so much, and you took part of my light when I went down crying; and you throwing me off you the next morning like I was the disgusting one. That was when I knew, by this time just 19, that men only wanted me for my body, and to take back control using it.

If I wrote about pain I would write the story of 3 friends, a boy who loved a girl, and the third wheel best girlfriend. The girl loved another man, and yet lured the boy into another secret triangle. Well the 2 girls ended up moving to her boyfriends, but the third wheel girl transplanted herself into homelessness. Unable to ask for help, and not wanting to worry anyone, she pretended everything was fine…

Being pimped out when blackout drunk kept her alive with food and enough alcohol to numb her heart, even if it was 3 days old with flies floating in it. It was when she moved out of the garage the fun began. See the best friend had to pick up the pieces of the boy. Because the girl wasn’t coming back. She told him she was.

He shoved her into walls, Locked her out of the house pretending to call the cops, because she had accidentally peed the bed. He was drunk most days, and liked to grab silverware in an attempt to get attention and reaction. I still have that picture of us the day I left, with a boy who was my best friend, who I destroyed with my own attempt to love.

If I would speak of blindsiding, I would talk of the one who changed my brake lines and head gasket. Everyone said he was bad, but he seems so sweet. Fresh out of a break up we meet, and I fell so hard. I loved him, and we worked together at a skanky slum type of bar. It was awesome, I loved being a shot girl then, and he the bouncer. We were happy until this kid, asked for a kiss on the cheek, and kissed me on the mouth.

He broke up with me, even though I repeatedly argued it didn’t hapen the way he thought it did. He wouldn’t listen, but said we could work on figuring it out.

I then returned to my job with my head held high,

because I win bitches.

We were getting along, and at the end of the night I walked to the bar and I saw him making out with this plain brunette. That was the moment my soul died. All belief in love left. There is not one person on this earth that hurt me more than he, not even the worst person in my list, all Hannah Baker 13 reasons why style. 

Yankee Hoe became your Myspace name, and throwing girls in my face became your game, while 10 beers and a shot of tequila, Kelly Clarkson’s Never again, and punching the metal utility box 25 times became mine.

It was this moment I went ham, and I don’t know if part of me ever came back.

If I were to speak of demonic behavior, I would share how much pain I gave to the 2 most wonderful guys I ever really hurt. Many of my flings were just that. I went through. These 2 meant the world, and still do to me. I did bad things I admits this. But I also picked 2 men after the most traumatizing time in my life, and someone had to pay. I will write those truths eventually, but to me I don’t care about that. I’m happy to have them in my life. They are proof that you can forgive someone

If I were to write of pain the thing I would say is waking up to guy friends having sex with me. First off I accept my part in what choices I made multiple times. I chose to drink, I chose to hang out with people, but I didn’t choose to become a #MeToo member. They made me into one.

There is sober sex, drunk sex, sex I half remember having, then I’m not moving sex.

Should I be coming to a 300lb boy, men don’t rape, creating inside of me, with acne, and a lazy eye. Then folks, you really want to know why we don’t tell? It’s our fault, don’t you know? Besides nobody believes you anyways.

I don’t talk about them unless it’s a conversation piece among other people. Rape is such a horrid topic for most people. What people don’t think about is the victim. Those girls that just want attention? They don’t know what scars it bares on you heart, your mental illnesses. You could be like me, and end up PTSD along with your anxiety, manic depression, and borderline personality disorder. I still see them. They flash through my eyes constantly, like the projector and the movie reel.

Besides it was because of how I was dressed I deserved it. I let down my guard, and this is what happened.

If I was to speak of life changing; learning the depths of a psychotic man. Stalkers have been fun, men and lady ones, because they just are fascinated with you. But psychotic men they sink to levels of crazy and that’s coming from me. Faking brain tumors, and a car crash require work.

Pain is loving someone, deeply, passionately, and he marries your best friend. The Rican changed me because he broadened my horizons. He found love with someone that just wasn’t me though, as painful as it was to learn. The passion you claimed first, goes to someone else, but always comes back to you it seems. I loved him the first outta four. One stalked me until I gave in, after my Rican crushed my soul. Then I moved finally to the another friend who had been the one I think I had wanted all along. I kept him at a distance, but wanted him to be the best friend of my entire life. he saw my soul, he kissed my forehead all while telling me I was beautiful, and snuck off campus to get me a birthday cake, which caused the start of making my birthdays rewarding. Making a celebration of who I am now because of the love I felt for him; the one who enjoyed the pain of the scar I left in his tattoo on his wrist, a mark of forever between him and I.

We became friends because I poofed my hair.

Handlebitch turned ugly, and it was my fault. I didn’t see him before the others. I was so hurt by that many events I couldn’t risk the destruction of someone who genuinely loved me. So he did it for me.

If I wanted to know of what I ever thought would be the most tears I cried, It was because of you. You were the person I gave my virginity to, not the one you think of, but the one who I gave myself to in every form. My ability to reason left me, but not before leaving behind a desire for hurt and pain. He destroyed me, and I took it in like a junkie. Every moment you spoke to me, is like when people suffocated me by trying to give me their love.

This man took my life. He took every simple piece of me that I could barely keep together. I fell apart and even the alcohol did nothing to stop that pain.

I gave my soul to an Inccubus, and he just laughed as he took more.

Pain is what I know, what I love, and what suits my soul. It fuels me, and it’s what I call home.