Posh Junkies

also junk·y (jngk)n. pl. junk·ies Slang
1. A narcotics addict, especially one using heroin.
2. One who has an insatiable interest or devotion

It can take many forms, sneaking up on you when you least expect it. One day you wake up and your life has gone from that of a bored white collar worker, to that of a junked up addict. When you stumble out of bed you find debris all around you, pointing the proverbial finger of guilt straight towards your heart. Your defenses have you instantly sweeping it all under the rug. Only you didn’t realize, you couldn’t have known that whatever you pushed away, into the forsaken corners of your being would become food for your predator. You couldn’t have known you were stashing away fuel, ammunition, for the one which would transform you. Had you known, maybe things would be different now.

But you didn’t. You quietly tried to hide it, to cover up your lust for the dirtier things in life. You did okay at first, most people believed you were just like them, except for one person.

In the beginning I was untouchable, a beautiful figment of your dreams. My coy smile, and knowing eyes, drew you in making you feel safe and warm. It wasn’t until I had you so eager for affection, so damn eager for my love, that I began my exploitation of your soul. I knew you had dirty addictions, I watched them slowly eat at you. But I wanted a bite, I wanted your soul, your body, your mind all to myself. I wanted to consume you in a way that left you whole but broken at the same time. I wanted to bind you to me forever, and leave you completely dependent on my own happiness.

The manifestations your addictions had taken were simply phase one, I only had to transform them. I altered your lust for alcohol, for sex, for drugs, I drove those from your bones and replaced it. I gave you a new addiction, I turned you into my own junkie. I didn’t create your addictions, you’ll always be an addict, I simply replaced them with something better.

You are my own personal junkie, craving only what I can give you- which is Me. You crave ME.
I took you from stage one:

1. A narcotics addict, especially one using heroin.
& brought you to stage two:

2. One who has an insatiable interest or devotion

I have you weak, wallowing in self-pity, but hooked to my every word. You cry yourself to sleep, and wake up in the middle of a night completely aroused by what I have done to you. You can’t stop yourself from masturbating furiously at the abuse I have given to you, but you don’t want to cum. It makes you feel dirty, it makes you feel so sick in the head. What have you become?

You were always sick in the head. I only showed you, I only cut you open from one side to the other, slowly, tenderly. You didn’t even realize it at first, you thought I was just dragging my pretty pink nails against your flesh. Until you looked down and there in front of your face was everything you detested about yourself. I displayed it lovingly, with a smug look on my face. My beautiful eyes full of pride at the work I had done, almost like a child that had stuck it’s fingers in your brain and wiggled it around a bit without even realizing the damage it had caused. Only, you knew, behind my child like demeanor was a woman that felt arousal at your discomfort.

We both know there isn’t an escape, I could never let you go. You are my fuel, my food, you feed my soul. I admit my addiction is as strong as yours. We will forever be each others food, you the masochist and I the sadist. It’s not physical, it’s psychological. The passion, the arousal, the lust is far too great, and much too enjoyable for me to try and beat it.

It feels so good, doesn’t it pet?

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Her Little Wallet
Her Little Wallet
3 years ago

This historic post from Goddess Posh reminds me so well on how i became Her will-less, breasts obsessed Money slave…. She used my existing addicting to erotic hypnosis and manipulated me into being addicted to be Money drained. Thank You for having done this to me!