A Belt

Hello world,

I realize I haven't been blogging much in the past couple of days. I'm still working on a longer blog post that I started but somehow can't find the motivation to finish. I guess it's because I've been dwelling over it so much that I already partly solved the issues I had and thus don't feel the pressing urge to write it all down anymore. But I will, eventually.

This post can't wait, though, because I need to voice this.

I'm kinda talking to a guy, I don't really know what I'm getting myself into because ... well. With AD it was always clear that it'd always be online only, that we'd never actually meet or have a future together - He used to call Himself a "space filler" for me until I found my next boyfriend. But this guy (let's call him CN) - that's different. He's actually interested in being together, for real. Which both attracts and scares me.

So far I like Him a lot. - Uh, just caught myself capping the pronoun. Guess that gives away how much I like Him. I'm gonna stop right here and not get into it - He deserves a post of His own and not be a preface to what I really want to touch in this post.

So we've been talking about fantasies. I told Him about one that I had (that is as much cliche as it is hot). He's very ambitious when it comes to His job and I imagined how I'd visit Him in His office. I'd be wearing a trench coat and a scarf, garters and heels.  I'd carry a lunch bag with some sandwiches to cover my story. I'd lock the door behind me, then I'd take off my coat. Wearing nothing but those garters and the heels (though maybe if I had really really hot lingerie ... but you get the idea), take off my scarf and reveal my collar underneath it. He'd push me down to my knees and makes me gag on his cock to punish me for trying to call the shots, coming to His office like that. Then He'd bend me over His desk and fucks me. He'd cum in my ass, taking a butt plug and sealing His cum. Then He'd tell me to go stand in the corner, maybe cuffed to the wall, maybe with a nice little spreaderbar. And He'd get back to work and enjoys the view while making phone calls.

So far, so good.

Then He told me a fantasy that He had. How I'd be kneeling, naked, blindfolded, wearing ear plugs, mouth open. Ready to please but completely clueless what'd happen to me. How He may not even be in the same room. And I wouldn't know if the next thing I felt was Him caressing me or the stroke of a belt.

That's when I started to lose it. I never really knew why pictures with men holding a belt bothered me. I just never liked the idea. But when I imagined that scene it hit me right in the face and I couldn't pull back. Couldn't escape a memory coming back, one that I had carefully supressed.

I never forgot that my father used to hit me - but I somehow forgot how. (I'm at the office right now and I'm trying hard not to lose it, but my hands are shaking. Yet I need to write this down.) It came rushing back to me then, though. How he used to take off his belt. How I'd try to cover my face, make myself small. How that didn't stop him. Gripping my shoulder. Yelling at me, telling me how worthless I am. One thing I remember specifically. How I tried to run, fled to the stairs to get to my room. And wasn't fast enough.

I lost it yesterday. I was hacking portals, headed to the supermarket. I managed to grab some groceries but forgot half of it. I was shaking. That image of me running for the stairs. The brown leather belt.

As soon as I got home, I watched some Dexter episodes to take my mind off it. I'm just glad the memories came back when we only talked about it. If He had asked me what was off limits, I wouldn't have mentioned a belt. I didn't remember. I would've said something like "well, a paddle is not off limits - but be careful. Let's start slowly, not sure I'd like it" - but a belt? Actually, it never even crossed my mind. Because subconsciously, I never connected a belt with pleasure. And my subconsciousness blended out the thought of getting punished with a belt.

I'm trying not to lose it at the office. But I had to write this down. So that I'll never forget again.

I also remember how I once tried to fight back, tried to catch his arm mid-air. And how I wasn't strong enough, how that infuriated him. - I know he wouldn't try to beat me up today, those days are over. Not because he felt guilty about it or came to the conclusion that it didn't do any good. It just ... stopped when I grew older. And now that I don't live with him anymore, he doesn't have a say. But if he ever did - I swear to God, I wouldn't let him. I remember that even though I tried to fight back, I was also scared and reluctant. I wouldn't be today. I'd fight him. I'd yell at him, tell him what he did to me, how poor he must be that the only way to solve things was for him to beat me up. How he was fucking right, how he never should've had children in the first place. Because he told me a few months ago that he had never wanted to have kids. I'd tell him that he fucked up. Fucked up my life. And that ever since I can think, I've been trying to put myself together. (No. Don't you cry. Not at the office. Don't you dare.) How I wish I knew what a family was. How I wish I could just be open with people, share my feelings, talk about these things. How I wish I for once felt like I deserved to be loved. How I wish I could accept myself. How I fucking wished he hadn't fucking told me on my birthday that I had gained weight. Right before my birthday party. When I had made up my mind that I wouldn't think about calories or not working out that weekend. That I would enjoy my party. Enjoy turning 23, look at that tattoo and be happy. "I am your father, I am allowed to tell you that, even on your birthday." Are you? I don't think so. You're my goddamn father, you should give me a hug for my birthday. But the last time you hugged me was when I turned 13 or 14, I don't quite remember. (Damn, tears, go away!)

I'm losing it. And I said what I needed to say. If I continue down this path, I won't be able to pull myself together. And I can't break down here.

xoxo

Kiwi