Needy. Desperate. That crazy glint in my eye, begging me to do something. Anything. Craving to feel. Kids napping upstairs, turning on the monitor as I close up the basement. The words on the laptop told me what I need, what I deserve, and what I want. I beg for it. I get their permission. Hungry, wild, I part my legs. I’ve been grinding, my hole is soaked. I touch myself and moan. It’s not enough. Never enough. I pull back my hand, fist curled, and punch myself. The impact isn’t gentle, the pain is deep and dull, shuddering as I grunt. Once, twice, three times. It feels so good. I feel alive. Four, five, six. Harder, eyes wet. Seven, eight, nine times. Ten. I’m drenched, cupping my tender cunt. Fingering myself, typing to my audience. Wishing to be ruined. As if I wasn’t already.

Sadly, kids wake and I have to be responsible again. I text Jack. He knows these swings, these moods. He knows the broken cunt he’ll come home to. He knows how to feed it and thankfully, it feeds him as well. An excuse to let loose his frustrations on a willing subject. The rest of the day goes by, but not fast enough. A couple of times I shut the bathroom door and follow suggestions. I slap myself in the face, staring at the bitch in the mirror. Calling her, myself, my truth. Cunt. Slapping my teats with a hairbrush, raw and red, the sting stays with me as I step back to the living room.

Jack arrives earlier than I expect. He plays briefly with the kids, then drags me to the bathroom. He inspects me, then slaps me for hurting myself without him present. But I’m not hurt, not in an unsafe way, so he shoves me down in the shower. I drink his piss but then he pisses on me as he tells me I’m not worth his gold. Drenching me in it. I’m told to sit in the shower until he comes back. I sit in there, kneeling and reeking of piss, for ten or fifteen minutes. He quickly rinses me off. Then I’m slapped several times, his hand around my throat, shoved against the wall. Squeezing tight, I’m told to open my mouth as he spits in it. Then lets me go. I get to pretend I’m a normal mom after that, for dinner, for movie night. Until the kids are asleep.

Then, the monitor turned back on, we returned to the basement. I see the dark in his eyes, a beast ready to eat. To feed on his willing victim. I go to kiss him but he shoves me back into the wall. It hurts. It wasn’t gentle. I smile. I go to him again but he shoves me back harder, gripping my hair, and slapping me repeatedly. On my face, my chest, my sides, it’s relentless. I scream in delicious pain. Then, it is not slaps anymore. He’s calling me names. Cunt, whore, bitch, animal, fuck holes, but I’m smiling. The punch removes the smile. Holding my neck, he hits my gut. My sides. Short, sharp jabs, knocking the air out of me. On my tits, then back to my belly again. My cunt, my thighs. And then, gently holding my face. Turning it. And then, I’m on the ground. My left eye hurts, and my left cheek. A backhand makes my lips hurt. I’m still smiling.

The belt is next. It kisses my skin raw, all over my back, my sides, my ass. Wrapped around my neck tightly as he pulls me around. Then again all over. My palms are outstretched until every hit makes me scream and cry, barely able to offer them again. He does that until I can’t even form the words to tell him no more. Then he starts with the soles of my feet. I can’t speak words anymore, they hurt so bad. I never want it to end. I can’t take another moment. Then over my back and sides. On my back, he repeats on my thighs, my cunt, my belly, and my tits. Every nerve is screaming or maybe it’s just me. My throat is raw. He hits me with his fists, slaps, and belt. He holds my head again before sending me to the floor.