ʟɪʟʏ

your fingers digging into my hips, leaving red marks that’ll bruise by tomorrow. you're not being gentle. you never are when you're like this.

"slow down," i gasp, my hands clawing at your shoulders, trying to find some leverage but only pulling you closer. "please, you're hurting—"

"then leave," you mutter, not even looking at me, just keeping that heavy, relentless pace. "no one is holding you down."

and that’s the trap. we both know i’m not going anywhere. i’d rather let you break me in half than walk out that door.

"look at me," i beg, crying now, my face buried in the crook of your neck, breathing in the heat of your skin. "please, just look at me."

you finally do, and your eyes are dark, mean, and utterly selfish. you don't love me. you just love how easily you can wreck me.

"you're such a mess," you whisper, hands moving to my jaw, tilting my head back so hard it makes my throat ache. "crying over nothing. tell me you want to go."

"i don't. i don't, please—"

"then shut up and take it."

You didn’t stumble here by accident. You came back because you’ve realized that your own thoughts are starting to sound boring compared to the ones I put in your head.

That’s the first thing I took from you, by the way. Your mind.

Now, when you’re alone in the quiet, you don't hear your own voice anymore. You hear my sentences. You hear my commands.

You belong to my words now.

It’s a beautiful little cycle isnt it?

And the most pathetic part? You beg me for it.

You actually think this slutty part of yours is not you. Like you can always close the tab and be innocent smart person again.

But we both know that’s a lie you tell yourself to feel the last crumbs of control. Every time you try to close the tab, you feel that sharp, cold pull in your chest—that sudden, frantic anxiety that tells you you’re missing something.

That’s the leash tightening.

I’ve slowly rewritten the rules for your own pleasure. I take care of you.

You don't get to decide what turns you on anymore. I decided that for you weeks ago. I programmed the shiver in your legs, the heat in your face, and the exact speed of your heartbeat right now.

Look at how easily you let me do it.

No fight. No resistance. Just a slow, compliant slide into total dependency.

You’re not reading this to be entertained. You’re reading this because you are completely, helplessly addicted to the feeling of having your mind taken away. You want to be emptied. You want to be ruined.

So go ahead, try to tell yourself you’re still in control.

But as you sit there, breathing just a little too deep, remember one thing:

With your wrists bound tightly above your head and the blindfold cutting off the room, you have nothing to focus on but the friction. You’re already trembling violently, your breath catching in a desperate, muffled whimper against the silicon of the gag.

"Stop shaking."

The whisper against your ear makes your entire body flinch.