I want to be hurt.
The desire is so strong it threatens to take over, drowning me in imagery, making my nerves cry out, together, with longing at these ghosts of sensations.
I need it. Will you give it?
Bite me, hard. In the neck; my shoulder; my back. Leave a visible pattern of teethmarks on my skin, tender and dark where your teeth broke capillaries. Grip my arms as you fuck me, grip them like reins, hard, until I cry out in pain. Leave me with bruised reminders that I can feel days afterwards; I will touch them and instantly remember their cause.
I will smile at this, my secret, impermanent diary.
Run your hands roughly over my skin: your personal canvas. Will you pinch me with the pads of your fingers? Or with your nails, arched, curved into claws? Or both? Warming my nerves until they are tingling and sensitive, the better to feel your nails with.
Slap me. How red will my skin get without breaking? How long will it take those brightred handprints to fade from across my back and ass? Don’t you want to know? And will people notice me wincing when I sit, out in public? Do you like imagining what they are thinking?
It’s okay. I do too.
And, yes, I want you to fuck me. No, not gently, not “making love.” Fuck me as though you want to split me open. Fuck me raw, until we are both ragged and sore, until my arms and legs give out, until my throat and lips are cracked and dry from panting. Then take my ass, as if it will accept you willingly, as if I were not crying, struggling, trying to get away, clawing at you, at the sheets. Until you are fully inside and I am groaning from the fullness and crying at the pain. Fuck me like that, until you cannot hold back anymore, until you are hammering into me with the full force of your orgasm.
Don’t worry. I will love you all the more for it.
And when you have emptied yourself inside my aching, tormented ass, take my face with your hands, and kiss me. Take my mouth as if it belongs to you. As if it wants nothing more than to be sucked, bitten, and abused. It does. Leave my lips as bruised as the rest of my body.
Only then will I be complete.