Ancilla's Dirty Diary: Entry 1 (8/9/21)

Note: Welcome to my journal. This is a new segment. It's an unfiltered collection of my thoughts and relationship. It's an erotic journal so it's mostly dirty. It's more loose and unstructured than most of my writing, and much more blatant, something of an extension of my actual journal that I write with a pen. Some of these pieces will be short and others longer. It's a journal, I can't control how much I feel about my day. You can find all the pieces under the tag "Ancilla's Dirty Diary". 

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8 September 2021

Master is punishing me. It's not because I did something wrong, I don't even know what wrong I would do. It's hard to articulate even though it is so clear to me inside my head. Yesterday we spent a very intense evening together. We spend time together every evening, talking or watching Explained (which I tell no lies, is the only show that makes me spontaneously cry, it just..explains so much), but we've developed a new way of doing it. After the child goes to bed and we're all done with our day, I sit naked on the floor in the corner of the room (with a joint) and he sits on the armchair, with his feet on my thighs, and we talk. I love talking to him so much, it frees something inside me, a voice that I usually reserve only for writing opens up to him so easily. 

Last night while we were spending time together I was telling him how much it surprises me that he has actual power over me. He's been pissing on me. Well, he's been doing that for years, but for the past few days he has been doing it every morning. Almost as soon as we wake up. He gets up, goes to wake up the child, and I go to the bathroom, to wait for him to come back. He comes in, tells me to kneel against the wall, and then he pisses on me. Then I shower while he takes the dog out for her walk. It's an ungodly hour to piss on someone. I honestly think 6 AM is the least sexy hour of the day. 5 AM is fine because you might still be continuing from last night, and 7 AM is fine because it's the small window of wake-up fucking but 6 AM is not sexy in any way. You know how nothing good happens at 2 AM? Nothing sexy happens at 6 AM. Although, it's actually not sexy at all, this new ritual of pissing on me. It's degrading, and it makes me feel smaller through the day. I've been trying to internalise the feeling of being degraded. 

It's not new, it's what I've been into for as long as I've been into things, but it's situational. I feel degraded when someone degrades me, not as a constant state of being, but there's something different happening, and that's what I was trying to explain to him last night. His voice is in my head. It's firmly planted there, and it's not my version of his voice either, it's him. There are several voices in my head, and they talk constantly, but they've all always been mine. Even when I was in relationships where the control exerted on me was enforced in much more terrifyingly violent ways, those people didn't get a voice inside my head. His voice is inside my head. There is a section of my head that thinks as much. Not on his behalf. Not what he told me to think. It thinks as him. So when he is pleased with me, I feel pleased. When he's being loving and supportive of what I'm doing, I feel bolstered and confident. When's being degrading, I feel small and worthless. I cannot believe he has as much influence as he does on how I feel and behave. That's what I was trying to tell him. 

The lights were all off except for the yellow one in the living room and I could only see the outlines of his features, and I don't know what he could see, but the darkness made me want to tell him things. I was trying to tell him that he makes me feel something I vowed never to feel after I left my parents' house twelve years ago: Powerless. He makes me feel powerless. I've always enjoyed being hurt. Pain was always a wonderfully honest and almost entirely physical interaction I had with people. You hurt me, I feel good, you feel good, we all go home. I cannot do that with him. When he hurts me, I feel what he wants me to feel and I get to go nowhere. If he wants the gentlest of beatings to feel excruciating, they will. If he wants the harshest of beatings to feel like a quiet breeze, they will. He decides, somehow, how pain feels in my body. I cannot understand it. I cannot believe it. I cannot believe I have to acknowledge that there is a part of me that is not in control, but for some reason, admitting that to him made me so incredibly wet and my voice so shaky I had to beg him to hit me immediately. I would have cried for hours if he hadn't. 

Of course none of that warrants punishment. I don't know what does. That interaction with him made me feel broken and vulnerable. We lay in bed together later, about to go to sleep, and he touched my cunt. It was so wet I could feel every drop of it between my legs. He made a disapproving sound. He doesn't have a problem with my arousal, but he calls me dirty and messy when I am wet. Sometimes it means nothing, it's almost a compliment. Other times, it's chastisement. I apologised to him for dirtying his fingers and he said it was fine, but he would have to punish me. It's that. It's that degradation that his voice inside my head constantly enforces. He'll touch me, he'll fuck me, he'll put his fingers all over what he calls filth, but later, he'll tell me I made him dirty, and it makes no earthly sense, but I still feel I must atone for it. He makes me feel dirty not just because that's hot. No. He makes me believe in the dirt I carried around as an aesthetic choice for over a decade. It makes me believe that I am dirty. So when his fingers touched my cunt, the apologies came so easily, and no naturally. 

There is no loss of self. There is no feeling of shame even anymore. He makes me believe in my smallness, and I believe how he treats me is exactly what I deserve. So he's punishing me, and I don't know why, but I think it's right.