I go back....

I awaken in the basement dungeon once again, I was left alone for a few minutes while everyone else was getting something to drink. I run quickly to my pants, which are across the room, and reach into the pocket, pulling out the tablet with the red dot on it and pop it into my mouth, letting the pill take effect. I quickly ran back to the spot I was in when I left. I close my eyes for a moment while everything becomes more vivid. "Ahhhh Mike always has the best stuff," I think to myself as I let the acid take full effect.
I know i am breaking the cardinal rule, mixing what is about to happen and drugs, but, at this point, I don't care, I will be gone in the morning anyway. I hold off on letting anyone see the effect the acid is having on me, waiting until we begin. My friends return, ready, they know what i am here for. I feel my arms being lifted above my head, I am floating already, the pill now fully absorbed, the dust from earlier coursing through my system with it.
I am confident while stoned, I know the person inflicting the coming beating knows my limits, knows what I can take, and will stop if I am too gone to make the call myself. His wife is present as well. My feet are kicked apart and a spreader bar strapped to my ankles to keep my feet apart. The lashes start to reign down, but I don't care, I am already soaring above the Earth. I come back for a brief moment when the clamps are applied, the sharp pinch bringing me back into my body when they close but I am soon looking down on myself in the shackles, chained to a whipping post, being tormented for my own sexual gratification. I scream out, begging loudly for more, more pain, more variety, more places, just more. The pain being the only thing that gets through the haze the acid pick me up has induced.
The whipping becomes harder, faster, more intense as I return to my body. There is a sheen of sweat covering my skin like a thin film caused by the intensity of the whipping. From the haze I hear the person whipping me marvel that I have withstood 150 lashes from different whips, ending with the single tail for the last 25.
The high of the drugs I have taken has been replaced by the euphoric high brought on by the whipping.
I am released from the whipping post and I am a pile of flesh and bones on the floor, my body wracked by the non stop orgasm from the whip. This was more intense than anything I have ever had done to me. It was past cathartic, past healing, past stress relief. It made me remember I was alive, remember why I was leaving, why I HAD to get away.
With that one session, I was reminded how much a person really can feel. All the times it was almost the end, the near death abusive beatings, the almost overdoses, the almost fatal poisoning, they all slipped away, and I had a new resolve to leave, to better myself, to end all the bad.
I stood up, thanked the whipper, said goodbye to him, his wife and his brother, and went to my next stop. On the way there, I needed another pick me up, and popped another red dot into my mouth, letting it melt. I am headed to his house to score for the last time. The next thing I realize, I am strapped to a St Andrew's Cross, almost naked, with my back to him, a fresh pill in my mouth, and a flogger with beads on the ends of some falls landing against my ass and thighs. I do not know which feeling is better, the new acid or the flogging.
With him, I could always mix drugs and S&M. A little packet is offered by my face, I know what it is instantly, even in my fog. It contains just the boost I will need when this is over. A joint is held up to my lips and I take a pull, inhaling deeply, realizing what I just did, and I moan, a deep moan of ecstasy and release as it hits me, as Mike comes up to my ear and growls in that way of his "wanna get wet again?" He confirms what I am thinking as I nod, taking the offered joint between my lips again for another drag on the liquid PCP soaked joint as Mike slips the little baggie of Angel Dust into the pocket of my jeans across the small room.
When he returns, the joint is hanging out of his mouth and he finishes it, the dust hitting his system at the same time as the weed and I feel him grab the back of my panties, ripping them off me. He comes up behind me, pressing himself against my bottom, and I can feel his erection. Why not, I think, its not like i haven't fucked him for drugs in the past, hell, dating your dealer has its advantages, even thought he mainly deals the stuff I don't touch. He drops the flogger, he never could do two things at once, and his knees follow the flogger, hitting the floor a half second after the whip. He gave me what I wanted, what I needed, even after what I had gotten earlier at Mark's, and now he was going to get what he wanted, a mouth full of pussy. I wasn't complaining, I just don't like guys' tongues as much as women's and he really has no idea what he is doing, but I am stoned and really don't care. He uses his lips, trying to get me off, and I take pity on him, faking it to make him think he made me cum, before he got lock jaw or something.
As he stands up, he grabs a condom and rolls it down onto himself. He has a very thin dick which he thinks has been enhanced by the barbell going straight through it. Once the condom is on, he nestles behind me, uncuffing my hands and bending me over the cross, twisting the hoop that runs through my clitoral hood as he slams into me.
With the added effects of the drugs on my system, the sex is ok, honestly. He slams into me for over five minutes, over and over again, hard and fast even if it isn't all that deep. With all the excitement of the whipping, flogging, and the drugs, I really don't feel I can orgasm again, so I fake it again, a minute or so after I "finish" he stills, grunts, and cums.
He pulls out and goes into the bathroom to clean up, I collect my clothes and leave before he finishes.
When I get home, I am alone, and i pull out the stash in my pocket and go to the kitchen to get the weed that is kept there, taking the last of it and adding the white powder to it, I roll it into what will be my last joint ever. I step outside and light up, inhaling deeply and enjoying it, knowing I will leave in the morning, saying goodbye to all of this.
I come close to blacking out, probably dangerously close to an overdose. I wake up at the airport, sober, and board a plane to Texas, saying goodbye forever. That was the last time I ever touched an illegal drug, I have been clean for 11 years as of today (April 4th).