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There is this moment that always catches me by surprise. Your eyes turn red before your past flashes in the iridescence of your despair. Your body wilts by our unmade bed, waiting in the space between nothingness and the pain your masochist’s heart begs for me to inflict. The silence of your torment calcifies around your bone marrow. I wonder if you noticed the volume of your tears doubled since the first time I made you cry the tears you needed to shed. Your beautiful suffering pulses across my fingertips. I don’t gently wrap my hand around your throat to hurt you. I need something to hold. The tighter I clench, the lower you sink until your knees find the floor.Your nails claw into my jeans. Did your instincts Esenyurt escort tell you to reach up and touch me? Letting go of your throat, I step into you. Your face rests against me. Petting your hair, I press you to my erection. Some people see a defenseless little thing and they rush to save you. I react differently. Your need floods adrenaline into my arteries. The more I pet you, the harder I clutch your scalp. Your whimpers vacillate through me, and the only way I stop it from evolving into a soul-shattering earthquake is by squeezing your jaw and making you look at me. You gasp, but I stuff it back into your throat by shoving three fingers in your mouth.You Etiler escort bayan used to be human. Do you remember her? She tasted like perseverance and insecurity. She smelled like trauma and redemption. The first time I ripped her clothes off, I saw compassion and judgment in the scars on her skin. What happened to this woman you used to be? Has my sadism helped you grow, or has it forced you to forget? What do you remember as I pick you up by your hair and bend you over the bed? My spit-covered fingers enter your cunt and you remain silent. I may not be the best monster for you, but I am the monster you love. In one hard pull, I yank my belt off. I fold it over and Escort Eyüp smack your ass, giving you permission to cry for the first time in too long. The more forcefully I whip, the stiller you become like glass that forgot how to shatter. I take little joy in uncovering so much hurt. My sadism is nothing more than a means to an end. The pleasure I gain from gifting you pain is eclipsed by the closeness we feel when your suffering peaks. I scream each time the belt collides with your ass. “Let it all out!” You once told me you don’t exist. Ever since then, I’ve been trying to prove you wrong. I rear back and shift all my weight behind the next strike. Parallel red lines criss-cross your flesh. At some point, your cries turn to moans and you writhe on the bed. “Look at you getting off to this. Is this what you want me to turn you into?” I spit, and my saliva collides into you with the same force as the belt. You slip your hand between your legs and touch yourself. “Where the fuck did you go, huh?”
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