Victim
By @Ted_Subby on FetLife, e-mail address nrjb2@yahoo.com.
Please check out all of my stories at www.assdisc.com.
Synopsis: Chapter 1 depicts a male dominant who tortures newbie sub women. In the rest of the story he receives a dominant woman’s version of retribution. Codes = F/m, M/f, torture, non-consensual.
Copyright © Ted Underfoot
This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.5/ or send a letter to:
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Note: All of my other stories so far involve characters who have some personality traits in common with me or represent aspects of views which I may have. That is not the case for this story for either of the main characters. I do not agree with any of the philosophies or activities portrayed here. Also, I write stories of male submission but this story contains references to M/f in chapter 1. You may safely skip chapter 1 or just read its very first sentence and then skip to Chapter 2 without misunderstanding the rest of the story.
I like to fuck bitches or what you gentlemen call women. I don’t mean intercourse, I mean I like to fuck them up good.
Welcome to another blog post, biatches!
There’s something called BDSM which is sadomasochism, S&M which you’ve probably heard of. It’s been growing in popularity, especially with bitches who have read that popular novel which I won’t name here because it doesn’t need any more advertising. You know the one I mean. Bitches think it’s romantic to be swept off their feet by a handsome powerful man and dominated, tied up, spanked or whipped, and sexually used. Yes, sexually used. Fucking idiots. Men don’t want to be all romantic with that “Master” shit, it’s just a way to get an attractive bitch to be a slave. Yeah, a slave. It’s amazing but many of these bitches want to literally be a slave to a male Master who will tie her up, whip her, and face-fuck her. Yes, a Master.
You probably don’t even believe this but it’s true. Look up BDSM and see for yourself.
There’s a popular adults only message board where these submissive slave bitches like to meet their one true Master. They have only read that shit novel and ask questions like “How do I meet the Master of my dreams?” or “I am new to this, what do I do?” God what idiots. But some of them are sexy as hell, young and just fucking hot. Imagine having a sex slave? Oh my god, what a fucking turn-on.
Young, hot, and easy, the best combination I could imagine. Now don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of porkers and uglies, and even a lot of old chicks like 50 believe it or not. Also, some of the bitches are careful. I mean think about it, if you were going to let someone tie you up, wouldn’t you be careful? Fucking shit, what a stupid question. If you’re reading this I know you are a lot smarter than to want to be tied up or whatever. But I know that some bitches are smart and take care in choosing their Master. So I am crafty.
First I strike up a private message conversation with a hot young wanna-be slavegirl. I usually play it cool for a few days as we message back and forth but sometimes the easiest ones just flat out beg me to be her Master and who am I to refuse that? Usually, though, they need to be coaxed.
I always pick out a bitch who posts on their profile that they are new. That way they are usually the easiest. Then I profess to be this all-experienced Master with years of training and experience. And I talk a good game because I’m eloquent. I touch up my profile picture a bit and include a few cock shots because that’s what these slave bitches like. And believe me, that’s what they get. As I message with a bitch I easily convince her that she should not message with others because I convince her that I know best and the rules are that once you message with a Master you should not message with others. This doesn’t work every time but it works on the most gullible, which is what I am looking for anyway.
I get a bitch all excited about submitting to me, especially letting me tie her up. They get all hot and bothered when I message about bondage. That’s the whole point of this and in these private messages my enthusiasm for tying up a bitch comes through because it’s all real. The bitch gets all excited and finally I allow her the privilege of meeting her Master, but only if she submits to bondage on our first meeting because those are the rules I tell her. What fucking gullible idiots.
I haven’t gotten to the best part. I know you are probably not believing this so far and the rest is just going to make it less likely but it’s the truth, I swear.
So I get a drop-dead gorgeous bitch to let me tie her up. Okay, I need to back up a bit. They aren’t all drop-dead gorgeous and sometimes they are even in their 30s, though some older bitches in their 30s aren’t half bad. Fuck that, they are all good-looking but I didn’t want to lie and say they are all gorgeous.
There she is, shackled up spread eagled, and waiting for her Master to spank her and sexually use her, with her ass propped by pillows in the air and her head conveniently hanging off the edge of the bed. So what’s a red-blooded guy to do? I spank her a little and then I stand in front of her, pull her head up by the hair, and shove my cock down her throat. She loves it and sucks me dry. And that isn’t even the best part.
I said earlier that I like to fuck these bitches, and here goes. There’s something in BDSM called a “safe word.” It is used by a slave when she has had enough of the pain of spanking or whipping, or enough sexual abuse, or whatever. She has had enough, she safe words, and then she expects the Master to stop what he is doing and take care of her. Are you laughing as hard as I am? Fucking idiots!!! Like I would stop what I’m doing if I’m getting sucked dry? Hahahahaha. But that’s not even what makes me laugh. The best thing in the entire world is the look on her face when she realizes that I am not going to stop just because she said the safe word.
That’s right, I don’t stop. Would you? Well, maybe you’re not as sadistic as I am. And by the way why fucking not? Are you gay or something? Most guys like to hurt bitches except that they hide it away because society says blah blah blah. Well, safe word this, bitch. That’s what I’m thinking when I fuck them up.
So now that she realizes I am not going to stop when she says the safe word, that’s when the fun begins. She said she wanted spanking and whipping and that’s what she gets. I have a nice set of gags which I pick one to cover her mouth with, because those bitches can scream in pain like motherfucking harpies. It hurts my ears. Guys, I think you can imagine the fun I have torturing poor sweet little naïve hot bitches for hours. Hearing her scream through the gag, seeing the stripes and welts on her skin, the bruises on her butt from the hard paddle I use over and over. Oh my god it’s just great. I bought some simple shackles and chain restraints for my bed and then I use a hard paddle, a riding crop, a hard stick, and even my belt all over from her upper back, down her arms, middle and lower back, gorgeous red and purple butt from the beating, backs of the thighs, calves, and feet. I take my sweet time at it, savoring every little whimper between blows. Slow torture, it’s just so sweet!
I am not a psychopath, though, because I don’t damage her. That’s important because if I break one of her bones or cause permanent damage, then that might be jail time for me. So I am careful around the lower back where I use light but repetitive and stinging blows, and I am careful on the arms. But I fucking wail away on the butt, mixing up the implements because while bruising and welts build up, and there just isn’t any permanent damage. I did my homework.
The best place, though, are the feet. Just start whipping a bitch’s feet and the screaming into the gag and thrashing in the shackles amps up to the maximum. I usually start with light taps there because I want the experience to last. The pain builds and builds and then they are out of control in agony so much that I usually have to rub one out, even though I’ve already been sucked dry just an hour or so earlier. Not to let you readers down, of course I cum all over her hair. That shit must be hard to wash out.
I’m sure you’re thinking I’m off the deep end and just writing fantasy. I admit that I have some sick fantasies but this is all real, dudes. I usually get about one bitch every three or four months with this. I’d like more but I lay low for several weeks just in case the bitch wants to try some message board retribution. In some cases she does and I just change my screen name every time anyway. I’ve been doing this for a few years, 11 different bitches have experienced love from this Master. But never a repeat visit. I wonder why not? Haha.
The big question you are asking is how can I get away with this? It’s just a fantasy because even if some slave bitch agrees to let me tie her up, she would run to the police and that would be the end of it, right? You think I’m shitting you.
You’re wrong and I even tell these bitches that they have no legal recourse before I finally release them after hours of fun. I keep chat logs of all of our private messages saying shit like “I want you to tie me up and whip me” or “I want to be your slave and do anything you say, Master” or whatever. Not just one comment but an entire conversation of how they have been looking for a Master and they have known they were burying feelings since being a teenager. You see it’s not all fun time, I have to read that horseshit. Who the fuck cares about your inner fucking feelings, bitch? No-one.
So if a bitch would go to the police those guys would just say that the bitch consented to S&M and maybe it went too far but that’s not something to arrest anyone over. “I didn’t hear a safe word, officer, she seemed to love every moment of it.” But it almost never gets to that point anyway. Bitches who are fucked up like that feel a whole lot of shame and humiliation for allowing themselves to be in that situation. Rightly so. They should be ashamed, and they are. They crawl home with their tail between their legs haha.
Some of the bitches post on that message board site about the terrible monster who hurt them past the safe word and how they thought the rules were that the safe word was sacred. I swear, I laugh so hard when I see that. How fucking naïve can they be? And like it’s going to do any good to post my message board name. They do try to post my home address but the web site does not allow that and quickly removes the post every time, and after a few of their posts were removed a couple of those bitches were booted from the site altogether. And anyway, I like to meet up with bitches who are new to the message board altogether and they don’t see any reference to the reports about that guy with a different screen name. Like I said, I wait usually a few months until the cackle of the latest bitch dies down. Most of the bitches don’t even bother posting at all any more on the message board because they are too ashamed anyway so I usually don’t have to deal with that shit.
Before you call me a liar I will admit that I have had some trouble with a few bitches. One of them went to the police who knocked on my door but I told them that it was consensual and they even toured my home, at my request without even a search warrant. I showed them the shackles and everything. I told them “She told me to push her hard with pain” or whatever other excuses I had read up about. I do my research, you have to give me that.
One other bitch knocked on my door all by herself. I think she was hoping I would grab her or something or maybe she hoped I would confess so she could tape record it. She sure gave me a piece of her mind but as you guys know there’s not much in a bitch’s mind worth caring about. I let her yell at me whatever but I kept my gun handy in case she got violent, which she didn’t because bitches don’t have any backbone unless they have one of those pussy-whipped husbands. Hey, if any pussy-whipped husbands or “gentlemen” are reading this, grow a pair of balls and tell your bitch who is boss. Or get the fuck off my web site.
There was another bitch who knocked on my door and yelled at me blah blah blah and she threatened to bring her male friends to fuck me up but that just made me laugh because this is my home and I don’t put up with that shit. Really, though, assaulting a man in his own home is some serious shit with serious jail time and once I reminded this crazy bitch I could see her face register the truth. Bitch, you are pwned! Hahaha.
So there you have it. You think I’m full of shit, right? Well, humor me. If you could do what I am doing with this shit, you would do it too, right? Torture for hours and face-fuck a hot young bitch? You bet your ass you would! Leave comments below.
I have never cried so hard as when my friend Susan told me what that monster did. We must have hugged for a half hour and we were both sobbing almost the entire time as she was telling me about it. I have copy-pasted his blog post above, every single horribly offensive word. It makes me sick but it’s a story which needs to be told.
My story may not sit too well with you, either, but you have to understand how horrible this man is. He didn’t just go a bit past a woman’s comfort level. He horribly and brutally victimized 11 women. The federal or state prison system is not the right place for him.
The guy’s name is Darryl and he is right at least in Susan’s case that he did not cause any permanent physical damage. He must have done his research, as his blog indicates, about safe places on the body to commit torture and where he had to be careful. I don’t know how Susan mustered up her courage and fought off the lingering agony to show up at my door that night but I almost fainted when I saw the extreme stripes and welts in several areas on Susan’s body. Of course I took her to the hospital emergency room where she received some care and painkillers, but it wasn’t until the next day when she told me what happened beyond just that she was beaten. I will never forget when she told me the details and we sobbed in each other’s arms, gingerly as she was still in pain from the welts.
Susan has known for years that I am a lifestyle dominant with my own basement dungeon. BDSM is fulfilling and enjoyable for both me and for whatever submissive or submissives I am with. That night Susan tried to tell me not to take her to the hospital and thought that I might have some knowledge about treating her wounds but I would never take a submissive as far as she was taken, and my subs do not want to be healed of their mild marks in any case.
I wanted to go to Darryl’s house and kill him. Susan was right to stop me but if she had wanted immediate retribution, I seriously might have gone through with it. However, I am not prone to anger and was chagrined at my strong reaction. So I devised a better plan.
I decided to go on that message board and pose as a new submissive. I have never felt submissive before and never played that role, even though I know many dominants who do switch. I was tempted to ask Susan for advice but she had been through enough and I did not even tell her of my little plan. I read weeks of posts on the message board and sort of put myself in the role of Darryl the predator, trying to identify what scum like him would want. After a couple of months, once some time had passed from Susan’s incident in order to allow Darryl to return to fish for more victims, I decided to act so I had new photos of myself taken with the intent of looking as innocent as I can look, and then I posted that I was new and looking for help in the wonderful world of BDSM. I actually received some very nice messages from people in addition to the predictable harmless and boring propositions.
I told myself that I needed to practice patience. It is my nature to go get what I want but in this case I had to let Darryl approach me. I did not know for certain, of course, that Darryl would find me but I must have been convincing enough to stand out as a very vulnerable slave because he private messaged me.
Once it became clear after a few private messages that his tactics were to prop himself up as a trained and experienced Master, to disallow me from messaging with anyone else, and to generally make me feel stupid for questioning his wisdom, I knew that it was Darryl, unless there was some other jerk trying for an easy score. I probably should have taken this last point into greater consideration but once Darryl told me to meet him at his home, I knew from his address that he was my man.
My man. How little he knew how much he would be mine.
The details of the initial several minutes of our meeting are unimportant. I have bigger fish to fry in this journal entry. Darryl was so ecstatic at getting me under his thumb that it was just so easy to pull out my stun gun and then throw his lifeless body onto his bed. I had one of his wrists in one shackle and I was pulling the other wrist towards another shackle when he regained his senses and started to struggle. Too late! All I had to do was threaten him with another zap and he mellowed out.
After being mouthy for a bit he quieted down completely once I threatened him one last time and he meekly let me remove his shoes, socks, and pants before I put his ankles in the shackles. I enjoy having a man spread eagled awaiting torture. Previously it was always consensual and I help ensure that we both have a great time. Poor Darryl was not going to have a good time. The fun would be all mine.
I had brought some sharp scissors and began to cut his shirt off, when he tensed up. I thought about teasing him with the scissors on his skin but I did not feel playful so I got down to business and just removed his shirt. Lastly, I cut his underwear off, as Darryl sweated and whimpered a bit in fear. I admit that I felt … it wasn’t joy or even justice, I felt a sort of giddiness at hearing him whimper in thinking that I was going to cut open his groin. It is difficult to explain, as though warmth passed through my entire body.
And once I had him naked and shackled spread eagled in front of me, I did feel joy. I had him right where I wanted him.
I have been told that I should have taken the high road and simply extracted a taped confession from him. Or I suppose I could have devised some plan to get him to serve jail time but I never considered it and I don’t even bother to think about it now. I only mention this because some of my readers may be thinking that this would be the best approach.
Instead, I put on my gloves and retrieved Darryl’s crop. The emotions of a victim can swing wildly. Darryl’s emotions led him to anger and his mouth spewed out what you might expect from having read his blog. I didn’t really care one way or the other until he began to yell loud at which point I stuffed one of his socks in his mouth and glared at him as his eyes widened in further fear.
I admit that I enjoyed his fear, more than simply the justice of his situation. I am a sadistic dominant but always with a consensual partner who receives as much enjoyment as I do from a session. I never let my full sadism loose because limits may be exceeded or damage may occur if I am not careful. But now, with the feeling of justice on my side, I smiled with joy at being able to let loose my wonderful inner sadist.
I did maintain some control, though, because I wanted a slow session of torture so that my victim could savor the pain, much as he said in his blog how he savors the pain of his victims. A fast beating is not what I had in mind. So I proceeded to slowly but relentlessly crop his stomach and his chest, making sure to give a few good whacks to his nipples. This is typically just the beginning of a session for me but Darryl is clearly a wimp and he was already in full distress with almost every blow, especially on his nipples. His yells into the sock in his mouth made me remember that I never use gags when a sub is face up due to the danger of choking, but I did not follow this rule tonight. If Darryl were one of my subs reacting with such pain I would have stopped the scene and spent some time providing comfort but Darryl would receive no comfort from me.
I proceeded to crop his thighs which elicited the strangest noises from Darryl’s mouth and nose as he tried cope with the agony. I always enjoy the look on a new sub’s face when feeling a crop on the thighs. From what subs tell me, a crop on the thighs is apparently much more painful than you may initially think, until you actually experience it. In this case Darryl’s facial expression was beautiful, it really displayed his intense horror at his situation and I thought that I could almost detect some remorse for what he had done. But remorse didn’t matter, only pain mattered.
I made sure to take my time and not rush as I slowly but relentlessly tortured his thighs for 30 minutes, leaving dark purple bruises on each thigh as well as the stripes that I love to see on particularly masochistic subs. And halfway through the torture big bad Darryl began to cry from the pain. I love to make a sub cry and they often find it to be a therapeutic release. As it turns out, Darryl’s tears were therapeutic. For me. I was experiencing a rush of the joy of retribution, as well of the joy of letting my inner sadist loose. And I knew that crying would really help lock into Darryl’s future memory the agony of this experience so I was glad for that.
After I was satisfied with the state of Darryl’s thighs, I let him rest, if you can call whimpering and moaning in pain rest. I removed the sock from his mouth and pulled his hair to tilt his head up a bit so that he could sip water from a straw. His facial expression had a bit of gratitude mixed in with the terror and he managed to croak a plea for mercy before I stuffed his other sock into his mouth, at which point he whined in supplication like a cat in heat. It was quite a pitiful sound but pity was not on my agenda and his plight did not move me.
I decided that he needed stripes on his stomach to match the ones on his thighs so I spent another 30 minutes, including some significant time between blows for Darryl to savor the experience, on the canvas of his stomach and I managed to create a very nice criss-cross of red stripes, as well as several welts. Another positive effect from this is that Darryl’s throat was getting sore and he was becoming fatigued from all of the screaming into the sock so that meant less noise as I completed my tasks.
An hour of torture is a long time. When I play with a sub or subs it is often for much longer but then I include many other fun activities beyond simply the pain of impact. Tonight was all about torture and I was still building up to the best parts.
From reading his blog I knew that Darryl particularly enjoyed foot torture, bastinado. I looked into his eyes and asked him if he would like any bastinado. I acted surprised when he anxiously shook his head no and begged for mercy with his eyes. I told him that his blog tells me that he just loves bastinado so I am going to give him what he loves. I guess after an hour of sadistic retribution I was feeling a bit playful. But it didn’t take me long to get down to business.
Darryl’s blog is right, bastinado can be extremely painful. I am careful with my subs because fun bastinado pain to one could be too much for another so when I use bastinado, which is not often, I typically start with light taps and then slowly build up. Of course that was out of the question with Darryl. On the first whack of the crop on one of his soles his entire body jerked from the pain. I enjoyed the sound of rattling from the chains leading to his shackles so I cropped him again in the same spot except that this time that leg simply shook as if shivering from the cold and he wasn’t screaming but emitted a low-pitched whimpering instead. I then went on to whack all over his soles, making sure to space the blows to not overload him with pain as passing out would have defeated my purpose. After a dozen blows to each foot his body was non-stop squirming against the restraints even between blows to match his continuous moaning. But I was not done.
I targeted the balls of his feet, the upper and lower arches, and the heels as I relentlessly tortured Darryl for all of the women he tortured before. I even whacked his toes several times, even though that is not particularly safe from what I have read. I really didn’t care much about safety, though.
At some point during the bastinado his body stopped moving around and his whimpering was intermittent, but I checked on him a few times to make sure he was awake to enjoy the full effects of my attention. If I hit in a certain spot on the heel, his foot would jerk in a predictable way and he would give a louder whimper. It was beautiful to see and hear.
Finally, after over a hundred blows to each foot in almost an hour, my arm was tired and I had enough. I took a deep breath and admired my work, seeing that Darryl’s bright red soles were bleeding a bit in addition to the lovely bruising of his heels.
I had Darryl sip some water during a 15 minute intermission and I made sure to sit down and rest a bit, in preparation for the coup de grace. I could not tell from his facial expression what Darryl was thinking because his facial muscles were lifeless, only his eyes betrayed his terror.
I enjoy restraining submissive men face up because of only one thing: CBT. Cock-and-Ball Torture. But that is getting ahead of myself.
I had brought in my pocket a handful of particularly tight clothespins and I took this opportunity to end the rest period by clamping one on each of Darryl’s nipples. The rest time must have been good for him because he had enough energy to let out a high-pitched scream into the sock when I applied the first clothespin and another scream when I applied the second. The screams seem to sap his energy though because he was somewhat quiet after that, even with the clothespins left on. I decided to extend my rest period and just sit and watch the pained expression on his rejuvenated face, and listen to the occasional whimpering at times when he had enough energy.
After 10 minutes I got bored and moved onto the star of the show, turning my attention to Darryl’s groin.
Usually, when I apply any CBT, a sub is in a state of arousal or sometimes that occurs after I begin. I am not severe with CBT as I have sympathy for my subs, even for ones who ask for severe CBT I simply apply light or moderate pain. Darryl would not be experiencing light or moderate tonight.
I clipped a clothespin to the tip of his dick and then used the crop to knock it off, repeating that several times. I moved over his head and stole a glance at Darryl’s face and noticed his eyes had a slightly different state of terror from the threat to his groin, although he appeared to no longer be able to focus on my face. I figured that he may have been going into a bit of shock so I retrieved a cool damp cloth and wiped his forehead and cheeks until his eyes met my gaze. I slightly forgot the situation and asked him if he was okay but I was not surprised when the only answer I received was a crinkling around his eyes as if I was being crazy. That gave me the answer I needed, that he was ready for more fun.
Now I would like to remind anyone reading this of the man I was dealing with. Please re-read his blog post. I don’t want to be judged for what I did. I fucked him up and he deserved it.
CBT feels like a big mind fuck to begin with. Whenever I torture a sub guy’s dick and balls a big part of the joy is the inherent fear in the sub feeling that the core of his being is threatened. How dare I hurt him there? Maybe I will go too far and completely ruin his manhood? Maybe he will never feel sexual pleasure again? It is only a game because I do not CBT a sub without having a good understanding and communication first. But Darryl is no game and tonight was no mind fuck.
I attached six clothespins to his scrotum and then I pulled his dick so that it had some length. As I mentioned earlier, sub guys I play with are aroused by this time but there was to be no pleasure or arousal for Darryl. With a good target area exposed I whacked his shaft with the crop over and over, turning his dick bright red and even causing a small welt, much farther than I would go for any sub I would play with. After I whacked each clothespin off his scrotum I couldn’t help but target his balls.
Reminder of the asshole I was dealing with, please re-read his blog post if you are unsure. I whacked one of his balls, though not too hard at first. It does not have to be hard for a guy to react wildly which is what Darryl did. He must have kept some energy in reserve as even though he was fatigued he managed to give the most pitiful yell into the sock gag and jerked his body for a moment, then his legs started shaking before they settled down after 10-15 seconds. It was beautiful the way he conveyed without words that he was in about as much agony as possible.
I decided to concentrate more of my crop’s attention on his balls and gave him a relentlessly slow ball-busting with my crop, pausing for almost a full minute between each blow so that Darryl could savor the experience and not too hard to cause permanent damage. The second blow caused him to practically gurgle though he managed not to choke. By the fourth blow I could see that his he was about to faint but I figured he could use a rest so I continued and was rewarded with him passing out after the sixth whack.
I checked on his breathing which was fine and then I took a break myself. Normally during a scene of play with a sub I am energized by the excitement of the experience but torturing Darryl was strangely fatiguing for me and I had to sit down. I took a rest in a nearby chair and found that I actually napped for a half hour. When I woke up, Darryl’s head was turned and he was looking at me, clearly begging with his face for any mercy.
I did show mercy … for any other newbie he may have considered hunting down. I made sure that he would lose his desire to hunt.
I was ready to end the scene so I brought out my small switchblade set. I guess Darryl had regained some strength because he began to talk to me but with the sock in his mouth I could only guess that he was begging for mercy. It wasn’t really a guess because his voice was whining with a high pitch.
His plea almost made it to me but I quickly reminded myself of what he had done. Remind yourself if you are unsure. His blog tells it all.
I brought the knife towards his groin and Darryl’s body tensed.
Once I was done, I put some ice in a paper towel and placed it over his wounds to somewhat staunch the flow of blood. I also spent some time pouring water over any areas of his house which I had touched before putting my gloves on, to wipe away my fingerprints. Through the tears in my eyes from the fatigue I was feeling, I explained to Darryl that he deserved every moment of his torture and then I unshackled one of his ankles and one of his wrists, left the key in his free hand, and departed the scene of retribution.
For the first time in my life I slept in my car as I could not drive through my fatigue. I guess you could say that I was passing out so I pulled over a few blocks from Darryl’s house and napped for a few hours.
Now months later I am not certain whether or not I did the right thing. BDSM holds no more fun for me so I have put away my equipment for good and told all of my subs that they would need to find someone else to play with. It seems a justified sacrifice for the retribution I delivered and the future victims I saved. And for some reason I have difficulty communicating with Susan, who tried to contact me letting me know that she would be okay. I guess I have a strange guilt associated with the experience but that doesn’t seem right because Darryl deserved every moment of what I gave him.
And I think I will be fine someday. I find that I have developed a few stress-related health conditions but medicine is helping me retain control.
I think it was worth it as Darryl had ripped enough pleasure from others in his life. He could go join a monastery for all I care.
Word Count = 6,200
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