I confess that I am really into, or was really into, rape fantasy. I would have put it at borderline obsession, if ever I had a hobby I would say that it was the fetishism of forced sex, fantasying about forced sex, and writing about forced sex.
I've been a member of several communities centred on the topic. I've done the smut role playing circuit and I've even confessed it to a couple of girls that I've seen and had sex with.
I've been burned.
What was such a turn on to me, gave me such arousal, then power and motivation in bed has been struck from me. I have had one of the girls I confessed this fetish too accuse me of sexual assault.
I live in a state of constant dull anxiety.
Since then I've intermittently have had trouble getting erections.
I've turned to alcohol to calm my nerves.
I can't focus at work.
I'm angry, but I don't know what at.
In short I'm a wreck. But here's the kicker: I still write, I write for others enjoyment, and not my own. The days where I can get something of my own arousal out of this are growing fewer, but I still write because the simple act of continuing on with the habit is in its own way soothing.
God that rambled... But I had to tell someone.
