Whole to Holes

So how am I going to live my new acceptance of life here at the Gentleman’s Retreat? Will it be easy, now that I fully believe everything that Mr. Negulesco and the other gentlemen have been telling me over and over again since I first arrived here? It should be. I mean, if what they say is true – and it is – that I am a worthless slut whose value lies only in being used by a man, then it should all come naturally to me.

But I am still a little confused about something. If my thoughts, feelings, hopes, dreams, and desires don’t matter – and they don’t – I have no motivation to be pleasing. It makes me so happy when someone, especially someone as impressive and hard to please as Mr. Negulesco, is proud of me and thinks that I have done well. But, if my happiness doesn’t matter to him or to anyone – and it doesn’t – then how can I try my best to please?

I’m sure I will learn. I’m very new to the acceptance of all this. I swore for so long that they wouldn’t break me, they wouldn’t win, but now that it’s happened it doesn’t really feel as though I’ve lost and I don’t feel broken. Well, maybe just a little, but I’m sure I’ll feel whole again soon. And when that happens, instead of being the whole me I’ll be three holes of me which is better because it’s more than before. No?

I just need to practice and I’m sure I’ll be given many opportunities for that. It reminds me of the way Mr. Negulesco always concludes his poems: Say it, believe it, live it. Well, the men made me say it over and over again and now that I believe it – and I really do – I must live it.

Talking of the poems, another one was posted today. I won’t make any comments about it because it doesn’t matter what I think; whether I like it or not isn’t important. But I’m including it here for you, my lovely friend, because you might be interested in reading it.

I’m a cunt, not a person
Opinions are for people, not for me.
Respect is for people, not for me.
Freedom is for people, not for me.
Choice is for people, not for me.
Privacy is for people, not for me.
Pleasure is for people, not for me.
Good food is for people, not for me.
Proper sleep is for people, not for me.
Clothing is for people, not for me.
Furniture is for people, not for me.
Saying no is for people, not for me.

Say it. Believe it. Live it.

Carlo Negulesco
Retreat Director

I’ll be back soon to tell you about my encounter with Mr. Kozlov. It has taken me so long to pluck up the courage to write these recent posts but I think things will get easier from now on because it doesn’t matter what the men do to me. All that matters is whether they are pleased and satisfied and happy; my pain or pleasure do not count. So describing to you how Mr. Kozlov humiliated me last time shouldn’t be difficult because although I hated every moment of it, my extreme discomfort is irrelevant.

And now another question has just occurred to me. I think some of the gentlemen really enjoy making a girl suffer. They do terrible things to us just so they can watch us writhe in pain, listen to our screams, smell our terror, hear us beg for mercy as we try desperately to get away. If we’re not supposed to have feelings because our feelings don’t matter – which they don’t – how can we satisfy such men? Maybe it’s not that we’re not allowed to feel anything; maybe it’s just that those feelings aren’t important. We’re allowed to be scared if that’s what the man wants. If he wants us to feel extreme pain, we should feel it; if he wants us to feel extreme pleasure, we should feel that.

Like when Mr. Negulesco tied me up and made me come. It felt incredible. I hated being naked in public, I was miserable crying out as I came, knowing that men were watching. But he wanted me to feel those things. So it was okay that I did. I think. I’m still really confused by all this. He says I’m a slut – and I am – so I really shouldn’t feel embarrassed to orgasm in front of complete strangers or to offer my naked body to their touch wether kind or cruel.

Maybe I’m just over-thinking the whole thing.

Yes. That’s it. All I have to remember is that I’m not a whole; I am just holes.

It’s very simple, really.

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One comment

  1. Charlotte says:

    ((The “Cunts’ Meditation” included in this post was written by Mr. Negulesco, not by me. The photo of the gentleman’s Retreat was taken by me.))

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