Femdom life

Letters to a masochist

I want to give you bruises that don’t fade for a week.

I want to think, “I hope the neighbors don’t call the cops.”

I want to rub my hand over your flesh that’s hot to the touch.

I want to be sore the next day from that much energy expended.

I want to be the answer to your needs.

I want this hypothetical you to exist, to find me, to say, “yes,” and “more,” and, “please.”

If I feel like I’ve waited a lifetime for you, it’s because I have. Already I feel jaded.

Come into existence for me.

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