Touch

Yes, I let him touch me. No, I’m not proud. It’s strange, like I was numb. I never felt a thing. That’s not to say he was, like, small or anything. I mean, it was pretty impressive, to be honest. Not what you’d expect if you saw the guy. I just never felt it.
Maybe I was high. Maybe I was so low my nerves shut down. Maybe I just don’t remember.
I didn’t like it, I promise you that. Like I said, I never really felt it. It was more for him than me. Maybe that’s why I don’t remember. Maybe I succeeded in convincing myself it was to help him; his “lonely” little life. I don’t know what I was doing. But it happened. For 11 months, 3 weeks and 6 days, I was a sex toy, a real doll. And I cut myself for it every time. I hope I was high. I hope I can someday excuse myself for my actions. I hope I at least helped the guy.
We lay together but we were never really together. I was just a doll, a puppet, a dead girl and he was the force inside, controlling and making all the moves. Sometimes, if I felt really relaxed afterwards, I’d smile. It wasn’t at him, but I’d still smile. If I was shivering, throbbing or even bleeding afterwards, I’d really start to grin. Sometimes I’d start laughing like I was high as a kite. Maybe I was.
I hope to God he didn’t get into a habit. I hope he didn’t generalise my reaction to how it would always be in life. I hope he treats other women better than he treated me. Of course I asked for it. I wanted to be thrown around, I wanted to be beaten. I wanted pain, not pleasure! I don’t know if I could have lived with myself at the time if I’d enjoyed it.
People make mistakes, yeah, but somehow mine seemed so much bigger then than everything I’ve done since. How big everything seemed at the time. If I changed my routine only slightly, it was a bad omen for the day. Obsessive-compulsive, self-hating masochist too afraid to self harm. And he fucked me because I asked him to. Because he wanted to. Because neither of us were happy with ourselves or with our lives. I remember thinking “I’ll feel better”. No. Never.
I’m not proud of it, but yes, I let him touch me.