Just finished folding the laundry. The scent of fabric softener is supposed to be calming, right? It just reminds me of being covered in it. There’s a deep, quiet ache in my cunt that chores never soothe. It throbs when I lean over, a constant, wet reminder of what I’m not allowed to have. I used to think being a slut was a phase. Now I know it’s who I am, just locked away. The silence in this house is the loudest thing I’ve ever heard. It screams of all the things I want to do, all the ways I want to be used, until I’m a trembling, squirting mess. Being a good mother is everything to me. But sometimes, I miss being a bad girl so much it physically hurts.