You love me when I’m a brat, asking, “Is that all you got?” and daring you thrust harder. You spank me and I growl, “Harder,” and you don’t stop until I’m bruised with beautiful bite marks all over my body. It turns me on the next day, to see your paintings of desire all over my skin. Your marks make me feel proud. And lucky, so very lucky that sometimes I can’t even express how grateful I am to the universe for bringing us together.
You love me when I’m a sobbing sub, who has forgotten her own name. All I can say is, “Please. Please.” I whimper until you say, “Yes, darling. Now. You’re such a good girl for me.” Tears run down my cheeks as waves ripple through my body, and I have never felt so perfectly right in a moment. Like I was made to be at your feet.
You love me, all the sides of me. When I’m with you, I’m accepted, no matter who I am that day. No, not just accepted. I’m cherished. Encouraged. Wanted. You make it so easy to be me, every moment of the day.
How can I do anything but smile?
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