You know me instinctively. There’s something not quite right with the look in my eye, and it turns you on. I’m polite and well spoken. You see me holding the door for groups of old people. My corduroy trousers and pressed, checked shirts shout “suburban dad”. But there is a slow-burning consuming fire about me, a predatory instability, a tendency to violence, an openness to breaking rules and laws that you can’t ignore.

I know you right back. I feel your needy vibrations echoing through a room. I would find you in a crowd; you’re not normal either. You cravings for love, drama, violence, ownership, and having your will and reason broken and taken from you and crushed are written across every aspect of your being, and lineament of your face. You have an aura that only I can see. It matches mine in a scary perfection that inevitably leads to both of our downfalls. I am your kryptonite, and your little panties are getting wet already feeling your self-will drain away as I approach you.

As an alcoholic is powerless over alcohol, you are powerless over this. It’s not accurate to say that you “like” it, often it’s something you despise. It’s not right to say you “want” it – you’ve had years of therapy desperately aimed at stopping yourself getting into this death loop of dependency and criminal sexual victimisation. But you need it, don’t you kitten? That sounds just right. Something deep inside you craves this, and can’t be still without it. You buzz after it like a mad fly seeking a web, fantasising about the entrapment of its limbs as it feels the spider pulling the strings towards it.

I’m just the same kitten. I need that neediness of yours. I want to fall in love with the jagged, broken edges of your soul, and shape them to fit me ever more perfectly. I want to make you my puzzle piece, fitting into my brokenness and making us whole, sometimes through joy, sometimes through pain, sometimes through hate, always through love. In me you will find that heroin of perfect acceptance, complete ownership, and constant reminders of your dependent inferiority and inability to leave without ripping your insides to shreds on the barbed wire of my manipulation and promises.

You’ll beg me to leave my wife, all the while understanding deep down that if I did, we would be over. You’ll beg me to give you my seed and mark your little body permanently as a testament to my will, understanding our child may know of its father only through you. You will fall at my feet and ask that I have no other women in any other port, yet all the while understanding that the pain of that potential abandonment, and my indifference to your pain, is exactly why you need me in your life. You will desperately apologise for the scene you make, and the beating and raping you forced me to give you, in the morning.

So many keyboard warriors on Reddit. They want a shag with a bit of hair pulling. I want to mark you in ways that cannot be undone, break you in ways that can never be unbroken, mould you to fit my perfect fuckhole and muse and princess and make you utterly useless for other men. I’m not what you want. I’m all wrong. I’m the man your mother and therapist warned you about, and they had your best interests at heart. But I complete you, and you can’t help but make a tentative enquiry to find out more.

You should:

·       Be between 18 and 35 years old.

·       Use safewords as a way to test if your partner’s a real man and will ignore them.

·       Be willing to do pretty much any degrading shit to satisfy a man and prove to him that you are worth loving, even for a brief few minutes after he’s cum and before he goes back to his real family.

·       Have come to feel that the greatest compliments you’ve ever been paid involved serious breaches of the Sexual Offences Act 2003.

·       Understand that true love means not telling the police, and hiding things from friends, family and colleagues.

·       Crave an older, fucked-up man with an unhealthy disregard your wishes and boundaries, who enjoys hearing about your history of childhood sexual abuse or sexually abusive adult relationships, or ideally both (I called them keepers!).

Non-mandatory “bonus” features include:

·       Having one or more mental health diagnoses, or diagnoses pending. Preference given to Type-2 personality disorders.

·       Browsing and responding to this advert on secure folder so your kind, loving boyfriend doesn’t find out you’re actually just a set of wet, pathetic holes for me.

·       A deep-seated delusional belief in your ability to fix broken men with your total submission, supplication, and degrading debasement.

·       Recurrent fantasies of forced-pregnancies by older men, to own and claim your life in the same way he claimed your holes.

·       Crippling fear of abandonment, coupled with the insatiable desire to attach yourself to unavailable men to live out that abandonment one more time.

If you are worried about hiding your contact with me from your therapist and friends, you are probably what I’m looking for. If after reading this advert your little cotton panties are getting soaking thinking about debasing yourself with a disgusting, abusive man who has few if any limits as to what he will do to your body, then you are what I’m looking for.

We both know how this will end. But drama and pain are right and normal for us, aren’t they kitten?

Your new Daddy,

Ben