Vessel Born – jul 19, 2019

The knots were the first thing that felt real—smooth silk tightening onto my wrists and ankles, pinning me to the mattress while the world went dark under the spandex hood. Before that night, I still thought I had a say in things. I didn’t realize I was being rewritten.

Dom was past the point of asking. He didn’t care about my day or my comfort; he was chasing a high, and I had been demoted from a partner to a vessel. I remember the uncaring scratch of a permanent marker across my skin, branding me before he ever touched me. Then came the intrusion—the dildo – blunt, forceful, and entirely indifferent to my pace. He used me with a raw, focused aggression, over and over, until he got what he came for.

When the weight finally left the bed, and the room went quiet, I was left released from my restraints but oddly paralyzed. I felt low, like a discarded piece of meat, yet there was this vibrating hum of satisfaction buried under the shock deep inside me.

Looking back, I wonder if he saw the SluttyPig in me long before I did. Was that night just a release for him, or was he carefully breaking the mold of who I used to be? Now that being used is my life, I realize that was the night the person I was finally died, and the SluttyPig was born.






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