Finally got a real fucking roof over my head. It’s weird. The silence isn’t filled with screams or chains rattling. Just… quiet. And a real bed. I keep waking up thinking I’m back in that cell, but nope. Just a soft mattress and no one’s hands on me unless I want them there.

That’s the part that fucks with my head the most. ‘Unless I want them there.’ My body spent years being a thing for someone else to use. A warm hole, a set of claws. Now I get to decide who touches me, and how. The first time I jerked off in this bed, just because I could, I fucking cried. It’s a strange power, choosing your own pleasure. To spread my own thighs and fuck my own fingers into my cunt, thinking about whatever I want. No brand burning. No orders. Just my own wetness and my own ragged breath.

Still figuring out what I actually like, though. Beyond the sheer relief of it being my choice. Maybe I want a mouth between my legs that’s there to worship, not to take. Maybe I want to feel a cock because the idea of it makes my skin heat, not because a command makes my pussy clench in dread. It’s all so… new. Terrifying and quiet and mine.