Sometimes I wonder if you're aware of how your words affect me, but coming from you I have no doubt your words are intentional. You stood there, holding those tweezers, and told me you like inflicting pain. I thought about the possibilities for hours.
That second picture I took and never sent was missing something. I think it would have been much improved had my hands been bound behind my back. Coarse, prickly rope is a perfect contrast to soft skin. You do remember that picture, don't you? You don't need another?
I have written too many times begging for you and imploring you to take me. Forget "let me."
Make me. Teach me those lessons I so yearn to be taught.
I know you want me on my knees. Run your hands through my hair gently before you snap my head back. I swoon at the mixture of tenderness and dominance in you. Grasp tightly and expose my throat, command me. Inflict the pain you want to inflict. Play with me. Guide my mouth where you want it. Kneeling, head back, what else can I do but submit to you? Force my mouth against you, grind against me until I am gasping for air. Be rough. I am an enthusiastic lover, you won't hurt me. Or maybe you want to hurt me, just a little. Do it.
Yes, I am going to be just a little bit rebellious. Wrap your fingers around my throat, slam me against the wall, tell me just how you're going to punish me for my disobedience. Do you want me on all fours? Kneeling? Bent and exposed? Bound and gagged? Force me to do your bidding darling. I'm new to this game, but I know you'll instruct well.
"Lessons in control, lessons in pain and pleasure."