She had a few extra hours with the soft leather buckled and locked around her neck. She was happy. He was still sleeping. She slipped out of bed lightly and walked, still nude, to the kitchen to start coffee.
I want to yank empathetic tears from your eyes and watch them roll down your cheek and wet the page so that my words bleed. A little breath play. A little pain play. A little mindfuck. I want you to get to the last word and beg me to hurt you again like the true masochist I know you are.
Dear Lover. If a ripple in my skin makes you shudder, roll on, Lover, roll on. I have no skin in the game where beauty is skin deep.