#97

From behind my shades the world is a dark reddish brown colour. It's a little like how it looks through a photo negative. I have a black eye, a cut lip and a bruised penis. Tufflove hurts more than I ever imagined.

John of course is unscathed. Before I even had chance to unload one of my 'big mutha's', he had bitten my cock and laid me spark out with a couple of sweet right hooks. Even fuelled by all the anger and frustration in the world, I still couldn't get the better of a supine, fake paraplegic who has just had 5000 volts of imaginary electric put through him! I am more pitiful than can ever be described. They should invent a word just for me.

Of course the fight/my beating was only the mild beginning of things. After coming around I then had the added humiliation of having to plonk John on the toilet seat, then clothe and help him into his chair. John acted as if nothing had happened and still today keeps up that pretence. As for the starjumps, well, for once my attestation is reliable; I know what I saw and it was not an electric shock. However, I have changed my mind about catching him out. I now think I only saw what he wanted me to see – that John purposely allowed me to catch him. He's been so careful around his paralysis that there is no way he would have made an open blooper like that. He knew I was in the bedroom, just as he knew his impromptu aerobics lesson was vibrating throughout the entire apartment and could not fail to attract my attention. It was a revenge for the drilling I gave him over the missing cigarettes. It was his way to say: Yeah, I can walk! I can do, act or say anything I want. You've no choice but to swallow the shit and try to keep it down... and if you can't keep it down, or if you start gagging on it, be warned: I'll kick seven bucketfuls of liquid crap outta ya!

It's about power. Total and complete empowerment over my existence. It's like: “You wanted me, now you've got me!” And I suppose, if I'm being absolutely honest, that's not too far from the truth. I have got him, and that seems a prize worthy of all the hassle I must withstand. In a way, when John debases me, I'm gaining all the attention I have always craved from him. Somewhere deep, deep down, I suspect I may even enjoy it. Being pulled and twisted around to John's wants and needs is like constantly reliving the Liberace incident with my father. There's something very erotic about being shoved and forced and manipulated at another person's whim – not ever knowing what is going to happen next. In that sense there is always hope. It's not really what I came here to say, but I think being humiliated gets my rocks off.