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Oh, come on. You know exactly what you're signing up for here. Don't take on that naive air with me - or do, actually. It's part of the fun, even as we negotiate our way through this.
Look. The world's going to hell in a handbasket. You can see it, and so can I. Women's rights are being eroded; there are literal fascists taking over everywhere; everything's falling apart.
And I get it. It's nice to be strong and independent and have everything lined up all nicely.
But don't you just wish you could ... let go? Surrender control? And maybe let an older guy beat the shit out of you for his own depraved enjoyment?
Come on. You like the bruises. The ones around your neck. On your wrists. Up the insides of your thighs. They're a mark of how strong you are, of how much suffering and pain you can take.
Plus, be honest. It gets you off.
It's okay. I understand. Pain is like that.
So here's the thing.
Give yourself to me. Let me own you. Become my property.
That's it. That's the price. I'll treat you like you deserve to be treated. I'll keep the genuinely awful things from happening to you, so long as you let me do a little evil to you.
And, hell, I'll even let you go every now and then. It's fun to hunt, after all.
What are you waiting for? Drop me a line; let's get this depravity going.
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- 3 months ago
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