Sunday, January 16, 2011

I feel...

I feel...
uneasy.

There are new plans.
Hints of unpleasantness.
For me at least.
Committed by one,
savored by the other,
amplified,
if not enjoyed,
by me.

I feel...
queasy.

I've been sick for too long, home this weekend instead of up in Brooklyn with a bunch of close friends and two thousand others. Home with my tea and my cats and my soup, slowly getting better, slowly getting stronger and now... getting hoarser. And a little queasy.

Damn.

Enough already!

I need to feel better
so I can feel pain.
So I can feel vulnerable.
So I can feel...
fear.

I already feel fear.

I feel...
aroused.

Hints are dropped
of nasty things
and my pussy weeps
and my womb erupts
and I tell the truth
and my Daddy says

I know, angel.

And now I want my Daddy to hurt me.
And he knows that, too.

He knows me much too well.

And so I will feel...
whatever he wants me to feel.

4 comments:

Liras said...

Soon, you will get what you need, O.G. Just hang on.
And recover!

oatmeal girl said...

Thanks, Liras. I'm not quite sure about needing what I'm due to get, but that seems to be irrelevant. Someone else needs to give it to me, and the sadist wants to see me getting it, and that's all that counts.

He believes this is my destiny. To give others pleasure. And this is another step on the way. And yes, I suppose you're right. I suspect I do need it after all.

kirana said...

I've been there before... and anxiously await more sordid details!!

xoxx

oatmeal girl said...

How sweet of you, toy :-) I will report as much as I'm allowed - and can remember. Though considering my odd style, it may not be as explicit a recounting as some might wish.