Love Letter

I am lying on my back, on your bed, with my hands cuffed behind my back. You used metal cuffs, and they're digging in. Into to my wrists, and my back as well, pinching my skin and hurting.

My arms hurt, and my back hurts, and your hands are around my neck, squeezing.

Squeezing enough that I'm scared. Not enough I can't breathe.

My breast hurts. You slapped it earlier, then pinched my nipple and held on and pulled on it until it was all tugged out of shape and stretched upwards. You pulled until I shrieked, and when I did you laughed at me. You laughed, and then you slapped me again, over and over until I sobbed. Then you spilled hot wax on me. Then you told me you would hurt me, and fuck me until I was scared, and cried.

You want me to cry. That's your thing like being scared and hurt is mine. We fit together, because of that. And you do terrible things to me.

I'm cuffed on your bed, with your hands around my neck, and your spit on my face, and I'm whispering, "I'm yours, I'm completely yours," while you fuck me in the ass so hard it hurts.

You fuck me roughly, carelessly, without a thought for me. You fuck me so hard it's almost more than I can stand. It hurts, and I want it to hurt, because I crave this like no-one sensible ever would. I crave it, and what you do to me, and I love you because of it. I love you in a dark, horrible way that's more like addiction than tenderness. I love you all the same, because of what you do.

Like this. Like today.

Today is nothing special. Today is just sex, like we always have sex, and that's what makes it so wonderful.

You fuck me in the ass so hard it hurts, so I can hardly breathe through the pain, so I bite my lip and sob, and my cheeks are wet with tears. You fuck me so I feel an aching, burning, painful pleasure all the way up inside me, and so I know you're trying to fuck me as deeply as you can. You fuck me hard, and bend my legs and twist my body to have as much of me as you're able. You spill more wax, and pull my hair, and spit on me too.

You fuck me, and hurt me, and call me horrible names, and as you do, as you fuck me like that, I can't help myself but come.

I come, squeezing around the dildo you have up inside me. I come biting your hand, which happens to be across my mouth. I come hating you, and loving you, and wanting your hurt inside me.

I come, and suddenly this hurts. Suddenly what I'm doing makes me sick.

I come, and you know I did, and you know that now the anal sex will be hurting me, too. You know that, but you keep fucking me anyway. You fuck me all stinging and scraping and achy full, and now it is too much to bear.

I bear it because I want this.

I bear it because you want to hurt me.

You know this hurts me already, but I say it anyway, because I know hearing it turns you on. "I can't go much longer," I whisper.

"Yes you can," you say.

"I can't," I say.

"You will."

"It hurts so much," I say, through tears. "Please."

"Good," you said, and fuck me more.

You take your hands away from my neck, because that's my thing, not yours. You spill more wax on my breasts, watching them splashed, watching me gasp. You spill wax, and them squeeze them, and then spill wax on my tummy. On my tummy so I squeeze as it lands, so I clench my lower body and the dildo hurts me more.

You fuck my ass until I'm sobbing, and are far rougher than you need to be. I know you're being rougher than you need to, with that dildo, in that harness, pressed against you how it is.

I know that, and I want you to be rough anyway.

You get close. You look down at me. I start to try and pull away. I know what you want to do, and I want you to, even as I don't.

You have a whip. Perhaps a flogger, I'm not sure what the difference is. It has lots of thin little floggy strings, and it burns like fire without breaking my skin. You hit me. You hit my chest. You beat the wax on my breasts. You beat my nipples, roughly, hard, until I shriek and then I cry.

I lie there sobbing, begging, pleading you to stop. I beg, and you ignore me, and that makes me want you more. You hit me, and I cry, and that is what you've wanted all along. It's what you've been waiting for. This is what we do for you.

I know you're almost there.

You push into me, and go still, and then don't hit me any more. You kneel over me, gasping, panting, and then slowly you relax.

You come, as I lie there crying, and then you release me from the cuffs.

You release me, and then I masturbate, and I make myself come again, because being hurt like this, being used like this, it turns me on so very much. I masturbate, feeling the awful ache in my ass, touching it sometimes, feeling the sting in my breasts. I masturbate, and keep sobbing until I'm done, and you just watch me, seeming proud. Proud you make me do this, I think. Proud you can, and I will.

I masturbate, and finish, and then we hug, and we're done. We hug carefully, because my chest still hurts. We hug, and then we kiss, and then we're tender with each other, until next time.

There's something wrong with me. I know there is, but I want this with you anyway.