Jimmy Jackson

Oh my. This morning seemed an awfully long time ago. Cornflakes for breakfast-had that really happened? It seemed like a lifetime ago. And I guess in a way, it was. This was a whole new life. I was no longer the receptionist stuck in a dead-end job with no boyfriend and a tiny apartment, who hated herself, her life, and was self-destructive because of it. I was ‘cunt’, or ‘slave’, or ‘fucktoy’, or whatever else he wanted to call me, whose only purpose was to serve him, and anyone else he wanted me to, to be fucked and hurt and humiliated. He had saved me and for that, I was his. Completely his, in fact. Despite the many people who assumed I was a slut (and who could blame them, here I was in a short, low-cut