Ancilla's Dirty Diary: "What The Fuck Do You Even Call This Fetish?" (26/11/21)

25 November 2021

He punched a dildo inside me. I don't know how else to put that. The dildo, god I hate that word, was inside me and he was fucking me with it as if it were an actual hammer because he was unhappy that I got turned on when he told me he wanted to ensure I spent every spare moment I had for the rest of the week crying, and while I wasn't exactly fighting it, it was hard to keep my legs spread during that. It was reflexive, it's impossible to not resist that kind of fucking, not for me, but he didn't like that either. So he punched the fucking dildo. He. Punched. The. Dildo. I have no words but I didn't shut up legs again. I may never do that ever again. 

You ever have one of those moments that you continue to live in constant fear of even though they are in the past? I think I will always live in constant fear of that. It wasn't a soft dildo, it's made of glass, and the spot where it hit me is definitely bruised, and it is all I can feel inside me. Sometimes, I wonder what the fuck is wrong with this guy. 

26 November 2021

Here's what happened. I don't know how this happened. I now have a fetish for dildos inside me being punched. Amazing how little time that took. It was harrowing. Truly. It was the worst thing that has ever happened inside my cunt and I'm including when 40-year old man forced his dick in there when I was 13 (I'm really sorry for this joke, it's my journal see, I'm extremely inappropriate when I am my primary audience), but somehow I couldn't stop thinking about it. I thought and thought, and every six minutes that moment when he punched it played in my head. Early in the morning I showed no signs of developing this fetish. I could barely walk, I had to wash my own blood off a dirty dildo and at one point the pain was so bad I was just a ball on the bed, literally truly unable to do anything but cling to myself in a foetal position, he actually considered letting me take a painkiller, but then he said no, and I agree. I don't deserve painkillers. 

Just an aside: You know, now, I am thinking about how our relationship reads to other people at its most private (which is the aspects of it I write in my journal which I am loosely transcribing here), and it sounds kinda fucked up. If I had a headache, I could take a painkiller okay? 

Anyway, then as the day progressed the pain got better, or my body just adjusted to it, and then everytime I thought about it, I just got a little turned on. I had every intention of just keeping that a secret because I find, sometimes, that vocalising things like that ends up biting me in the ass, but I must also have a fetish for being bitten in the ass because I am always saying things that I probably shouldn't. I said it. Well, I wrote it, and that was still find because when I wrote it I don't think he took it seriously, he just told me that I had lost my shit, but then, I said it. I said it in a very compromising moment, like there were fingers, and fists and touches involved, and I was not entirely of sound mind, but I find I speak the most truth in that state of mind. When I said it then, he took it seriously. And then proceeded to do it again. It was worse than the previous night. 

But now I have a fetish. 

What the fuck do you even call this fetish?