Monday, 11/30/2009 - 9:33 p.m.

I was embarrassed. Face red, chest red, blushingly hot, embarrassed. I was wearing black and chains: black stockings, panties, and heels, and a chain brassiere that still hangs in my closet.

They were hell on wheels - two incredibly hot men who worked well together to break me down.

Not physically down, of course, but mentally down. I was physically down, though, in the bedroom floor, on my hands and knees, hair in my face, afraid they would ask something of me that I couldn't or wouldn't do, and forcing me to do it anyway. And then it happened.

"Since you're already down there, fetch", and his leather-gloved hand threw the flogger across the room. And then his partner in crime threw the other flogger over by its mate and said as well, "Fetch.". They both looked at me expectantly.

"I can't", I said, tears running slowly down my face. "That's...more than I can do. I swear. Daddy, please. I can't.", and I truly believed the leather daddy would let me off the hook. He was closer than the other daddy and could see the tears.

He twisted his right hand into my hair and snapped my head back. He pointed with his left hand and said, "Fetch. Crawl. Go get them. Now." Did I really believe this hard-faced man would cut me a break? Did I really believe I could get away?

"I CAN'T! This is horrible and humiliating and I CAN'T DO IT! Fuck you! I can't! I feel so stupid!", as the tears fell faster and I lost any sense of being sexy or pretty. "I can't!"

"You're the hottest goddamn thing ever. Now crawl for us. Fetch for us. We love you."

"We love you."

And so I did it. I crawled across what used to be my bedroom floor on my hands and knees, ass up, head down, and picked those two floggers up in my teeth, as carefully as I could. I crawled to the leather daddy and dropped them at his feet, tears drying on my face.

Apparently reading all this porn (I found new NCIS!) has woken up the writer I thought had disappeared in college. Which explains this entry from the crack of dawn this morning. I cranked that nightmare out in about 10 minutes, without any hesitation. And then I cried myself to sleep reliving it.

I can't write if I don't feel it - everything I wrote in college was all based on real people I knew, even if the events were not. Everything that's come pouring out today all happened at some point in my life and I have no idea why *now* it's coming out. I can't stem the tide, so to speak, so I will let it run its course and just hang on.

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