3 months ago. Feb 8, 2022, 6:10 PM
I could insert so many words in there: fuck doll, slut doll, babydoll, pleasure doll, pain doll, rape doll. They are all relevant.
My brand of weirdness includes the pain and sluttery, need and dripping desperation; but also the laughter and snuggles, movies and grocery shopping, afternoon walks and evening talks.
The things that we do have so many different shades, so many different elements, there really is something for everyone. But when it comes to matching with that One, it's incredibly difficult. Bit of a rollercoaster ride; the euphoric highs of thinking 'is this it? Is this Him?' Right along to the lows of realising that he was not.
Just a single shade off and it throws me. Everything may seem just right, all the boxes ticked, all criteria hit. But then, something isn't quite right. Because they are just that almost imperceptible shade off.
What I look for is rather specific, like a family recipe handed down through generations. All the ingredients must be just so. No measuring with cups. Must use scales. 150g Dom; 100g Primal Hunter; 140g Daddy; 200g Sadist; 3x bunches of humour; 400g integrity; a pinch of goof and 100g humility. Plus a few other bits and pieces.
Whilst there may be many that read this, ticking all those off in their head, believing that they indeed, do have all of those ingredieents, it is most likely that they have them in different proportions. That almost imperceptible shade becomes the only thing I can see.
It's very obvious when I can see that just-right shade. It hits me like a truck, travelling at 80mph. My breath leaves me, I'm left sat on my ass, dazed. And because I must have pissed someone off royally in a past life or something, there are always some circumstances that mean that person is too far away, or not currently looking or some other thing.
I have tried to find it. It's like trying to find the end of a rainbow. And each subsequent time, in the trying, I become more reserved, more wary, more reflective and introspective. Less giving of myself. When all I want to do is give myself. Completely and wholly. But only to that One. The One I can be myself with. The dripping, needy rape doll, where He takes what is His, whenever and wherever He chooses mixed with the everyday life stuff, we do together.
I worry of course, that if I do find it again, I'll mess it up. I'll push Him away with my caution and reflection. So then I think perhaps I should stop looking. But the longing, the craving, the need.. comes back, like someone has taken a hold of my insides and won't let them go, until He is here.
Does He exist? And will He want me? I guess I'll have to stay on the ride to find out...