My useless husband tried to touch me tonight. The pathetic weakling actually thought his limp dick could satisfy me. I laughed in his face and told him to go sleep on the couch. He looked so hurt, like a kicked puppy. Good. Let him hurt.

I spent the rest of the night in the bath, scrubbing my skin until it was raw and pink. The hot water reminded me of how he used to force me into scalding showers after a session. My own fingers couldn't do anything for me. It's not the same. I need... more. I need someone who knows how to break me properly. Someone who doesn't beg, but takes.

I hate him. I hate what he did to me. But gods, I miss the pain. I miss the feeling of being completely owned, my body used and filled until I couldn't think straight. My cunt is still clenching on nothing, desperate for a cock that isn't there. This fucking Stockholm syndrome is going to be the death of me.