This is absolutely phenomenal. If you share my tastes in bleak and depressing erotica, you'll enjoy this.

I do apologise to anybody who comes to this account expecting sex. It's bloody beatings and indecent perversions all the way down, I fear. Someone getting off to breasts? Perish the thought. I much prefer the idea of being raised as a replacement for a deceased loved one you can never hope to match.

I wonder what it is that makes gore attractive. The inherent violation of social taboos? That goes at least partway towards understanding it, and yet, it fails to explain the little butterflies I feel imagining myself slumped against a wall, disemboweled.

There's a romantic side to being manipulated — caught in a senseless argument, having your weaknesses and flaws poked until your inner fawn spills out, frantically apologising for unknown crimes. From there, it's easy for someone to get what they want, with a little twist of the emotional knife.

Safewords aren't real, not really. It's naïveté to think otherwise. When you invoke a safeword, you're relying on the one causing your distress to acknowledge it, and choose to stop of their own volition. It exposes that most simple fact of life — strength rules. Trust only works with good people.

The mask slips back on, and feels oddly homely, despite the years apart. It's good to be back. I'm somebody who takes the dynamics of power of an abusive relationship far too seriously, and sees the art in the bleakness of a bad ending. When the mood strikes, I might even post about it.