My Chat Room Profile (3)

Kinks

I don’t know if it’s a “kink” or the symptom of profound and eradicable psychological damage but I get turned on by the thought of someone murdering me. I began linking sex with death as a young child. It was a way to cope with the constant fear I felt that my father would one day kill us all. He was subject to horrifying and unpredictable outbursts of rage during which he occasionally brandished knives and guns at us. He threatened suicide often and he seemed just the type who’d kill the entire family before, as they like to say, “turning the gun on himself.” As a child, I felt this instinctively. To comfort myself I’d often masturbate to scenarios in which he shot or strangled me, but in my fantasies he’d always do it in a loving, paternal way, where cruelty and nurturing became one. The climax was an orgasm, which often occurred at the moment of my death, or shortly afterwards, when he gently handled my corpse. Looking back now, I see clearly that I was trying to cope with an unbearable anxiety by converting it to something at least momentarily pleasurable. I was using sex as an anti-anxiety drug.  I was self-medicating. Sex and death became fused in my mind. I became an addict and I’ve been addicted to these fantasies ever since. The question has always been whether I will manage my addiction or if I’ll lose control and OD, ending up in a situation in which someone really does murder me. So far so good. (I guess). I mean, I haven’t got to live out my fantasy, but that’s just the thing. I can’t “live it out.” Yikes! Talk about a Catch-22!

Seeking

Well, I wouldn’t exactly go so far as to say that I’m looking for someone to kill me. I’m married and I would prefer my husband did it if anyone but he’s too loving and gentle to ever do such a thing, even if I begged him. In the back of my mind, though, I feel almost irresistibly, tragically (in the classical Greek sense of tragedy) drawn to someone who would get off on murdering me. I wouldn’t want it to be painful, though. Look. The way I see it, being murdered erotically sure beats dying of bladder cancer or heart failure. I mean, we all have to go sometime, right? Wouldn’t it be better to die looking hot and giving someone a hard-on?

Limitations

Can someone with a death fetish really be said to have limits?

A Little About Me

Girl next door type. If you were living next door to the Manson Family.

Other Info

Loves cats.