Bitch Dom as Wall

… mixing my father’s, mother’s, and my own behavior into a single person, the Bitch Dom rises out of my subconscious, rules (so often anyway) my jacking fantasies …

… so I can maintain the illusion that my CSA humiliation and other CSA-related suffering as an infant, toddler, had a reason—to please the Bitch Dom—and that there was an awareness and intentionality behind them instead of their being, as they were, the result of my parents’ blindness (my father’s thinking he wasn’t actually abusing me; my mother not seeing or turning a blind eye to my father’s abusing me), over which I had no control …

Blue Sky … Forgiveness

… looking up into the blue sky, feeling my mother’s presence in the sunlight sparkling all through it … the words come to my mind:
“Mother, I forgive you.”

… and then I hesitate before entering my apartment, look up at the blue sky again, though fittingly, I think, a narrower swath of it, as I don’t feel as ready for this yet, and think, “Father, I forgive you too.”


… perfect autumn day — air crisp, bright sun, blue sky … gobs of grade schoolers collecting fallen ginkgo tree nuts; of kindergarteners playing in fields, at playgrounds … thinking of myself at age one, two, three, looking at my so beautiful mother — how her beauty, my feeling of infinite attraction to it, must have made it all the harder, all the more impossible for me to accept that she wasn’t protecting me from my father’s sexual abuse; must have made me all the more angry, rageful even, at her for her inability in this regard …

Jacking Update

Posted by VERITAS
Woke from sleep with a code red urge to jack; no worries as I keep the calendula oil close at hand and proceeded to jack forthwith to the usual fantasies – the Bitch Dom easily seducing me with her perfect body, perfect allure; the Bitch Dom applying the calendula to my nipples, breasts, cock in copious dollops; the Bitch Dom licking, stroking my nipples, cock to max-hardness; the Bitch Dom, in a state of lactation, breast-feeding me until my thirst for her milk is completely satisfied … and with, as has been happening more frequently lately, the Ice-Bitch-Melts variant of the Bitch Dom herself losing control as we fuck, the two of us coming together …

The resonance, as usual, with what I strongly suspect may have been the situation from my earliest infancy, into and through my toddler-hood: my father sexually abusing me in the various ways I remember him doing from the earliest remembered incident when I was three or four; my mother beautiful, attractive to me, but unaware her husband, my father, was abusing me, or, at least, suppressing her awareness, minimizing it to something close to zero; my mother, according to one of her letters from about ten or fifteen years ago, having breast-fed me for only two weeks and then stopping because she didn’t have enough milk (which I suspect was due to her having, a la mode for the 1950s, fed me on a strict time schedule, which according to Internet research, as such strict scheduling contravenes natural cycles of milk production and consumption between mother and child, can easily render a mother’s milk supplies inadequate); my experience with, perception of my mother having, on some levels, been sexualized – more than an infant, toddler’s experience of their mother would normally be – by my father’s sexual abuse; and blah blah blah blah blah blah blah …

And the usual questions:
– Do the Bitch Dom fantasies, in some way, form some sort of protective barrier, or, at least, moderating buffer, between my present consciousness and any suppressed or compartmentalized (or however you want to term it) memories that may be lurking in my subconscious of the complete hell of what the actual situation must have been like if my above-noted suspicions regarding my infant- and toddler-hood home environment – with respect to the effect of my father’s sexual abuse, my mother’s inability to respond effectively to such abuse, etc. – are correct?
– Can these fantasies as well as my indulging them (to the extent that I intentionally indulge them – so strong is their allure, when jacking, that I often feel little or no control over having them) and my otherwise focusing on them in these postings and otherwise in my thoughts help provide a path in my life to greater freedom, or do these fantasies simply help to keep me stuck with baggage it might be better, in one sense or another, to let go of?
– And so on …


Posted by VERITAS
Affirming all those moments of my childhood spent in happy Nows — things as simple as jumping into a pile of autumn leaves — that took me so very far away, in those moments, from the horror of my father’s abuse.