She stirs behind the curtain I have yet to pull back. She’ll have to keep waiting because I will not let her out until it is safe to do so. I hear her, I feel her in the stillness of the night.
I know what she wants. And she scares me.
It will not be easy for him. Physical pain. Mental pain. Preferably both. She’ll drag it out for everything she can get. She’ll build anticipation and watch him squirm. She’ll dig and dig until she gets what she wants. Fear in his eyes, body shaking with adrenaline, tears, whimpers of humiliation and grunts of pain… she’ll take it all. She’ll use his fears, his guilt, his fantasies… she’ll use it all.
She’ll break him.
And, one day, I’ll let her.
I’ll let her do it again, and again, and again. And I’ll put him back together every time.
I’ll let her because I love him and he loves me. I want the intimacy, she wants to feed, and together we will live. We’ll thrive with him.
When he says, “Please don’t,” I will hear his soul say, “I love you, I am yours, do whatever you want,” because I will own his soul. I’m selfish enough to take his soul, I’ll take better care of it than he ever will, so it all works out… right?
He won’t be able to fool me, but I’ll let him beg anyway, because it makes her tingle. She won’t worry about it being too much. She won’t feel sorry for him. She won’t want his pain to stop.
And that is scary.
Will she change me?
I know he can take it. I know he wants it. And I wouldn’t dare do it with someone that wouldn’t respond well to such treatment, because that’s not what she’s about, nor what I am about.
I melt at the though of what he will offer, and she sits behind the curtain stirring with pure desire.