I am a masochist.
I dream of the belt whipping my thighs.
Of the knife running across my skin, leaving a mark.
Of the hand around my neck, gently squeezing, teasing my lungs.
Of the slap across my breasts, straining as they are squeezed and bitten.
Of the bite of the rope around my wrists as I strain to get closer to the source of the pain.
The divine feel of a mouth around my nipple, sucking, biting and licking me to tortured ecstasy.
The wack of a flogger on my ass, then the tease of the leather ran across my bottom as I gasp for air.
I love being a masochist.