She broke up with her man, whose one voice made me kneel. One of his words — and, despite the cold, the drizzling rain and night outside rushed to the car and rushed to meet him in the midnight darkness. He remained in memory as a teacher. One and in search. Some strange word - I am looking for. It seems to have lost nothing. Regular sex seems boring to me. Although, where is the line between ordinary sex and another - hard, rough, without a grain of tenderness? From understanding that your partner feels me more than I do myself, tears of gratitude come to my eyes. Infinite trust, rigidity, pain and pleasure. I do not know where to draw the line between regular sex and thematic. I know what makes the rape really cynical to the game that I like so much. I experienced on my own skin. In gaming rape, it can be sensitive and even scary, but there is no blood, no burning tears ... a desire to curl up in a knot on the floor in inconsolable sobs ... a desire to erase everything, tear off your skin so that the new pain drowns out the weight of memories .. Desire to disappear forever ...

Who is needed? The one whom I can call the Lord. No doubt, because she is ready to kneel in front of his strength, charisma, because she admires him immensely.

My birthday. One in a big city. Sometimes you want to disappear for all, so that your people will find a path to you among the memories and empty meaningless congratulations of others. I want sincerity and my people. I buy a pair of hidden things from my youth. Another bright red nail polish, which in a row? ... and I decide to devote the day to my beloved.

A couple of days ago, the one whom I call Favorite Diaries, my old records - personal and not very, but such chaotic and living, appeared. Same as myself. Smoothly all unnecessary things came off the nickname. Now it is a reader. Invited him to meet for my birthday.

SUV unusual color. Bright positive. I will choose the next car for myself in bright red or fiery-orange color and will do some airbrushing, tasty and positive, for example, slicing a bloody orange with juice. A restaurant. Jewelry as a gift. Good girls, do not accept gifts from strangers? Never been good. We sit opposite. He talks about himself, about what he wants from a relationship. Good, good conversation, and he is the same, good and kind, inspiring confidence. Kisses ... Walk ... Give me a ride home.

He asks me to write what I think about our date with him. Pondering ... not my partner? The desire of my partner is the law for me. I can argue, because I am I ... a rebel who needs to be held in my hands. I can argue, and even then only at a distance, knowing that it is inaccessible to the whip and its eyes, before which I cannot lie and dodge. For the former, I wrote. How was the meeting that I felt that I think about him. She avoided mentioning only what whitened the atmosphere — about her feelings for him. How hard it is to bare the soul, write something good and sincere, coming from within, just to praise, thank the person. It is sometimes difficult to find these little secret keys to a person’s trust.

A few days have passed. The reader came to me in another city. Hotels ... Different. Simple, which you leave without regret and those in which you want to linger, to be alone, whose interior caresses the eyes, where you feel like in the "royal" chambers.

I’m late, I guess, that’s what I’m all about - I never arrive on time. She promised in the evening, I come almost at night. In the twilight. To listen to yourself. Did not develop. Forgotten keys - extra 50 kilometers, four times in front of me lowered the barrier of a railway crossing. A bumblebee biting into the window of the car bit me, and the pain stretched across my back and arm.I drive barefoot - the nails painted with bright red varnish did not have time to dry.

I go up to him in the room. Candles in all rooms. Dinner for two. It became so difficult to surprise me with what they call romance. Now I understand, it is - romantic. Room painted on the walls. Something Middle Eastern. Beauty with almond-shaped eyes with a closed lower half of the face, buildings, lights, a placer of light. But for me, the romance died along with the relationship with my first man. Freshly cut rose on the car seat, unexpected gifts, sex in unusual places. Now all this romance is perceived as cheap tinsel. Candles are not romantic for me, they seem to excite well. And that's all. I stopped loving the word "romance". They can hide behind when you do not want to give expensive jewelry and invite to spend a weekend on the ocean. Although - not in this case. Number - one of the most expensive in this hotel, and the hotel is clearly not cheap.

I despise men who forget that there is a woman next to them. I have a heavy laptop. I understand that angry, and the top, it seems. And I think that men do not do that. They open the door and help get out of the car, help carry heavy things. Next to these men you feel like a woman, I want to be and obey her. How difficult it is with me. I'm not a quiet and calm girl with bottomless cow eyes, soft and gentle, like velvet. I am a tough, cynical bitch and bitch. Therefore, I am grateful to my former partner, who returned me to the thematic womb and helped to love again what I was afraid to admit even to myself. I remained tough and naughty, but I obeyed him, tried to obey. It contradicted only when she did not see his eyes, before whom she could only speak the truth, and did not want to lie.

The Queen is pouring into me. Where did she go? When I go to a meeting, it is much more in me than in everyday life. In it, I am anyone: a mischievous girl, a seducer, a loafer, a so-called creative person, a very strange creature, shocking with her strangeness. I forgot about the witch. A pity - and it is in me. The queen sits in the hallway, gracefully takes off her shoes on endless heels. Of course, you can lean or just slip out of them. But the Queen takes off her shoes, as a last resort, because the Queen herself decides whether to remove her shoes herself or ...

The reader was looking for a slave. So it was written, now it seems to me, it is ridiculous. Psi domination, bondage, spanking as punishment. What - the softest flogger that I catch a glimpse of on the bedside table? Psi domination scorched me once in a past life. I tried to forget about it, but the word "Theme" came to me in the morning, until the bustle of everyday life forced it out of my mind. I felt that behind him was something delicious, secret, forbidden, alluring. And, having tried once, there is no longer a way back, and I don’t want to go back.

Then I was scared. So much so that the action unfolding before my eyes seemed more real than the light of the lanterns outside the window and the torn clouds racing in the night sky. In fear of being killed, if I dare to say no, I did everything. Saying to myself: “It's not me ...“ Not me, undressing under the gaze of men and prostitutes ... not me, caressing my crotch ... not me, who, having thrown the breast onto the table, is being fucked in front of strangers. Not me ... I am - quiet and calm, even if it is out of control. Former excellent pupil, perfectionist, modest once. I could not have sex at the sight of other people's eyes of random people. Memory eraser erased the details, so that it became easier for me to realize what happened, to accept as part of my past life. Not the most biased part, which is not to talk about.

Dealing with verbal humiliation is harder than physical pain. The pain passes, the bruises heal, the traces heal. Words pop up and pull the picture from the depths of memory.Memories flash sometimes brighter than reality. They exist until you live it again several times, you don’t find yourself there several times when you open the door of memory. Psi sadism is a cruel thing for ...