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Message-ID: <39250asstr$1036980602@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Medea F.K." <medeafk@hotmail.com>
Mime-Version: 1.0
Subject: {ASSM} Letters to Myself (MF, cons, rough, bdsm)
Date: Sun, 10 Nov 2002 21:10:02 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

June 3rd

Dear Alexis,
	Remember this: it didn't happen the way you told everyone else.  Memory 
fades with time, and it becomes easy to accept the account that you've been 
telling over and over, but it's not the truth.  And you need to remember the 
truth.
	You liked the bruises, the scratches, the way your body ached in the 
morning after he left.  You wanted him to hurt you, and oh, you loved him 
for it.  When he left you, left town, your friends thought it was cause for 
celebration.  It was easier to take the role of the abandoned, battered 
girlfriend, than to explain what really happened.
	It wasn't his fault.  He was a nice guy, probably too nice to stay.  You 
watched the way his conscience ate at him for hurting you, but you asked for 
more anyhow, you pushed him to do it.  And that's the real reason he left.  
He couldn't deal with it anymore.
	The friends, they'll comfort you all the same.  You don't have to tell them 
what the tears are really for, but try to remember, for yourself.


June 16th

Dear Alexis,
	Can't stop thinking about him, can you?  He called last night, asked how 
you were doing.  He was so apologetic, so sweet...  You wanted to tell him 
to come back, especially when he said he missed you.  Instead you just 
wished him well with his new job, and tried to pretend that everything was 
fine.
	But it only made you miss him more.  After you hung up, you went to bed.  
Half-asleep, you dreamed/remembered him, grabbing your hair to twist your 
head around and pinning you against the wall.  You dreamed about that fire 
in his eyes and the way his fingers would dig into your body.  You'd yell, 
"Fuck you!  Is that the best you can do?" when he was rough but you needed 
more, until finally he'd had enough, and angrily ripped your clothes off and 
fucked you, your body slamming into the wall.  The next day, you'd be a 
wreck, with bruises across your shoulder blades and marks on your neck where 
he bit you.  The pain, the pleasure, that's what you live for, that's what 
makes you feel alive.
	It's gone now, though, and you have to find something else.  The moping 
around worries your friends.  Do you want to have to explain to them the 
real reason you're depressed?


June 20th

Alex,
	You throw yourself into work, hoping that a new distraction will drive out 
everything else.  And it does, a little.  It's easier when you don't have 
free time to think.  You're feeling more in control now.  Hold onto it.  The 
rest, well...  There will be other men, right?  Just keep going.


July 8th

Dear Alex,
	That guy Amy introduced you to at her 4th of July barbeque is something, 
isn't he?  You had dinner with him last night, and you talked about all 
sorts of things.  You wonder if Amy realizes that he's kinky as hell.  He 
picked up on what sort of girl you are almost immediately.
	After dinner, you went back to his place.  You don't usually sleep with a 
guy on the first date, but this was different.  He offered what you needed 
and you took it.
	When he held you down and you yelled at him, he only smiled, letting you 
work up that anger.  You started to think he was just teasing, that he 
wouldn't follow through after all, but then he smacked you back down and you 
knew it was going to be fine.  He stripped you and tied your wrists together 
and hung you from a ceiling hook, toes barely touching the ground, then he 
used you like a piñata, beating you with that blunt little cane.  And when 
you were about ready to collapse, wobbling on the rope, he lifted you from 
the hook and you had sex, lying across a table.  He way he pushed your 
shoulders into the hard surface as he thrust into you created soreness you 
still feel now, like bruises too deep to see.  And it was perfect.
	This time you'll learn how to hide the marks better.  This time he's not 
afraid to hit you harder.

--
Medea
medeafk@hotmail.com		http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/medea/www

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-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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