It was too long ago...

“Who are you, a mom or a slut?” he said with disgust. He was shaming me.
“Both,” I said holding my head high though I chewed my lip.
“You can’t be both. What happens when she finds out what a dirty slut you are? What are you going to do then?”
“She isn’t going to find out.”
He looked at me hard and I held the stare. The back of his hand came sharp across my cheek and my eyes watered. I didn’t look away. His hand came up again and I flinched but this time he only touched the red mark he had made and whispered, “Good girl.”
“You are right,” he continued to whisper, “she isn’t going to find out. No one will ever find out.”


I never have been able to do any one thing really well. I am a good mom. I am an average submissive.

A good friend of mine said to me that it’s ok to feed our needs. Another friend said that if the need or addiction isn’t serving to make me a better wife or mother, what good is it and to get rid of it. If I listen to myself I know I can do both, maybe averagely, but I can do both without fucking the other.
I know I am only having this dilemma because the need needs to be fed. I need it as I need food. I’m past hunger pains; I’m past thinking how tasty it will be. I crave it on a cellular level. I feel like I am suffocating with every breath I take.
I ask DH to lock the house with the lock I have a hard time undoing. I don’t trust myself out there. No alcohol needed to get me to ask a stranger if I can service him. It’s that bad.
And there is the phone and internet. I don’t know if talking to people makes it worse or better. It’s still there, the need.

Do I want it to go away?

I shake a lot these days. My hands are not steady.