She never had done this before. Men usually paid no mind to her when she sat there in the diner writing in her journal. It was that small leather boun... book that was her comfort in life. He bought her another cup of coffee and talked to her. He was quite intriguing to her as he wanted to know why she sat there writing alone and empty. Her hands moved over her body through the warm water as she continued remembering his words that ran though her. He was so intelligent that it was his mind that. Months ago, she would have repulsed him sexually, and a glance at her feet in this state would have left him indifferent or disgusted.Now, having his face as close to them as possible was the driving focus of his desires. Slurping the dirt and stench off them, as he grew painfully hard in his steel cage - the force tugging on the piercing that passed through the slit of his penis. Chastity had reprogrammed him; redefined what he was willing to accept as "sex," and lowered his standards for. She shook it off. "Anyway. In eighteen months I had a little more than $200. Like I said, it wasn't much, really, but it was enough to give me some peace of mind. It wasn't enough to give me the push I needed, the confidence to leave though."That took something else." I was a klutz. I know that becomes the most common trait associated with beaten spouses because we're constantly 'tripping,' catching ourselves when we 'fall,' which of course explains the three broken wrists during any given. Anything else wasn’t important. As I sat in the car, I realised I’d have to find a Vodafone shop and tell them what happened. Or maybe I’d tell them the phone was stolen.Then I was back on the road, only much slower this time. Much slower. I didn’t know this road. I didn’t know where it would take me. I just knew it was away. Away from my so-called friends. Away from the so-called life that I’d carved for myself.I turned off the stereo—it was too tempting to let the energy of the music carry me.