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I like it rough

I Like It Rough

I’m finding that I like my sex served rough. I like to be called a bitch and smacked and thrown down with torn clothes. I like men at my throat. I like their palms and mouths there. Yesterday I had a chain at my throat and before that a sword that needed a harder edge. They call it a live edge. It wakes you up.

I’m counting bruises on my body today. There is a welt coming in on my wrist and four deep round marks on the inside of each arm and my nipples won’t go soft. It’s good to know where their hands were. I like skin under my nails and sweat in my eyes. I want a real fight and I want to really gasp and really scream and really come. I like men who can make me say please and thank you. I think the word no could make me faint.

I like men who look me in the eyes and don’t smile and men who could put me on my knees with a glance. I like strength and the feeling of being brought underneath the power of something absolutely male. I like fighting back. It makes me feel absolutely female.


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