I don’t know why he lets me have this journal. I think its to tease me, to taunt me, that someone will one day know my pain. I always wasn’t like this, broken, beaten, wishing for death or just an end. I used to be human once. I used forks, spoons, even knives. Now, I eat cum, piss, shit, and dog food. I used to have pens, pencils, computers to record my thoughts. Now, I have a soft piece of charcoal.

When he took me, I was 14. I was young, cute, long blond hair. Smooth pale skin. Just starting to grow a chest, to flower, to become a woman. Now, I’m older. I don’t know how much older. Years but how many? I doubt I’m cute anymore, he reminds me daily I’m an ugly piece of shit and I know it’s true. He’s destroyed my body, my mind. My body is covered in cuts, bruises, scars. No longer pale, but shades of black, blue, red, and jagged. My chest is full now, but my hair is all gone. He says only women have hair, not cunts.

I used to have pretty handwriting. He even shows me sometimes, my early journal pages. Even with the charcoal my writing was smooth, with beautiful loops and hearts for dotted eyes. Now, it looks like a small child’s writings, as my hands shake so bad. He’s hit my head so many times I can’t focus anymore and my hands never respond. Even sitting still I tremble. He says they’re tremors and he says it’s because I’m a broken dumb fuck they shake like that. He’s right. He’s right about everything.

His friends came by today. It must be poker night. They have the table in the basement. I take care of them, chained under the table. There is just enough slack in my chain for me reach them and just stick my head out. I take turns, sucking their cocks. They love me enough to cum down my throat, allowing me food. As they drink, they share as well, pissing down my throat. I’m so lucky to have them. They smoke their cigars and ask me to hold out my mouth, tapping their ashes on my tongue. Eventually one of them finishes smoking and he grabs my tit, putting it out on me. I scream as he burns me, but then he gives me more food to eat. It’s hard to chew the butt of the cigar but I do. I never throw up food anymore. Another man puts it out on my shoulder. I cry and thank him. He gives me food too. I feel sick as I chew and swallow it but thankfully I’ve given more piss to drink, even if most of it goes in my eyes and nose. It’s a joke, I can tell because he’s laughing. I laugh with him.

They finish and then they strap me down, whipping me, then fucking me. I tried counting the scars on my back once but then I realized I have trouble once I run out of fingers. I pass out and when I wake up, I think its a different day. The men are different, but they’re fucking me so I’m loved. I cum when they love me. They show that love me for in so many ways. Breaking my nose, choking me out, hitting my head until I cry and stumble about, fucking me until my cunt is swollen shut. I’m so lucky.