I’m in the mood for something deliciously bad. Normally girls my age go out and find random guys to make their bad decisions with but that has never been me. I think there’s something really pedestrian about the kind of fun they seek out. It’s not an issue of morality, it’s more… an aesthetic thing I guess. I don’t want their boring, common ways of being bad. I want ways that rattle me to my bones and send me to my knees in repentance. I want to be the kind of bad that leaves me wrung out with bite marks blooming purple all over my body. I want to go to the brink of not knowing myself, Sir taking me there and holding me by the neck and making me stare at an entire reckless realm of possibility.
I mean, what’s the point of sex if you don’t feel like every dark crevice of your soul has been exposed to the light? If someone doesn’t take your lust and your shameful thoughts, and twist them into a spell that leaves you panting for more?
I found that for myself. I have a normal life too – friends, a career, my own house, and I get to make some of my own decisions - but whenever I think about Sir, about what sex with him is like, I don’t ever imagine slow romantic movie scenes or riding it out reverse cowgirl style. I think about the feeling of my veins being sliced open by the sheer desire of the One who owns me, I think about pain and pleasure – so intertwined that I can no longer tell one from the other. I think about being handled and cherished, used and worshiped. I think about my shattered lifeless body sprawled out across his mattress with sweat gliding down between my breasts and cum sticking to my inner thighs.
In the daylight I may prefer to stand, but at night… oh at night I prefer to crawl.
=^.^=
