calling me a whore in bed is part of the experience, knowing i am as wide open, wet and unable to refuse as a whore for sale is part of how i can’t get away from underneath him, knowing i’ve essentially signed a contract and he owns my body, my holes, this cunt of a gaping aching need to be treated like the slut i am … this is part of the deal. this is part of how he’s reprogramming my mind to be incapable to refuse
i’m woken at midnight by arms wrapped around me, pinning me while his cock pushes its way into my tight, dry hole, and i can’t think of anything but this moment, and the idea of begging for mercy never crosses my mind. can it be rape if it’s my husband and if i don’t think to refuse. if i think of it as rape, and i know that i feel i deserve it, it pushes me even further into the headspace. so let’s call it rape.
after the rape it’s the ass plug, forcing its way in and out of my ass so fast that i feel things tear and ache. and i don’t say no. why would i. then its his cock again, in my cunt again, and it’s DP, and it’s deep and hard, and i am screaming into his hand, but i don’t safeword, i don’t say no
so i’m his whore, he bought me, my holes and my wetness, my dry fear and my mouth, ass and cunt, he bought me and he can use me, and it may as well be rape, but i don’t want it to stop, but i should be saying no