If i ever got out of this hell, people might ask what it was that finally broke me.
Was it the daily beatings and lashings?
Was it being hung up and used as punch bag?
Was it the objectification of spending hours as an ashtray, footstool, glass holder, pillow, coat hanger, doormat, toilet roll holder, no longer regarded as human?
Was it the constant verbal abuse, the reminders that i was a piece of useless shit, a cunt, an ugly bitch, a retard, scum, filth, a faggot, a waste of a life.
Was it being forced to eat pig feed and shit from a trough like an animal?
Was it being strung up and repeatedly electrocuted?
Was it the breath control…literally having the life choked out of me again and again and again?
Was it being treated like a cheap, disposable whore by Master and His friends?
Was it being forced to fuck myself with bigger and bigger dildoes until i could fist fuck myself.?
Was it being secured in the stocks and then dog raped?
Or was it spending hours alone in the stinking caged pit, wallowing in the waste of the house. Bare concrete walls. Barely room to stretch out. Cramped. The bare bars taunting me. Starving, freezing, sometimes in pitch dark, sometimes in bright painful light that couldn’t be escaped. Sometimes in silence so that my mind went to very dark places, sometimes blaring rock music or white noise, shutting me down. Usually chained into one painful position or another. Sleep deprived or drugged so that i hallucinated the most terrifying things, hundreds of rats crawling all over me, cockroaches burrowing into my skin, up my nose into my eyes…at least i think i hallucinated them. Losing track of time, never knowing when Master was coming back…if He was coming back.
What broke me? All of these things. The constant state of fear. The pain. The isolation.The gradual eroding of any remaining self-esteem i had. The acceptance that He was right, i deserved this, i was inferior, i was born to serve, i was filth. He enjoyed making me repeat that over and over again in one form or another until He could see that i truly believed it, felt it to my core. Finally accepting that i had no control. He would hurt me, degrade me, abuse me and it didn’t matter what i did He would do it anyway, if that is what He chose, that was His right. He had the power. With all of that came acceptance.
i started to long for Him to come and haul me out of the pit, i started to need Him. i did need Him to survive. i needed to make Him happy, i needed to serve Him. i longed for His company as abusive as it was, it was the only time i felt alive. Alone in the pit i was dead, forgotten, invisible, nothing.
What finally broke me? when i realised i was in love with Him.