…with the text “and don’t forget to bring the bag of Wolf’s special gifts to Me.”
I texted back some innocuous “okay” type of thing, but inside? Quivers. The header you see there? (last day for that as I have new shoes to show ya’ll tomorrow) That’s the contents of The Bag. And they are scary in the hands of a fucking mean Master. Okay He’s not really mean in the bad sense. But He is a Sadist and He doesn’t go at all easy with these things. There is no warm up. There just is *WHAM*.
And the thought of it, of packing it and bringing it and laying it on the bed for Him…
Well dammit it made me so wet.
Why why why? Coz I’m a masochist? Because I’m fucked up? I dunno. Just the way I’m wired. But it did totally turn me on. I was a hot soggy mess all that day, and the next. Every time I looked at that text I got a little pop of “turn on”. I’d try to not look at it, you know? Avoidance? Fear? Extreme excitement? But I’d always scroll back to read His order.
There is so much. So many pieces of this day. So many bits to linger over. The bruises, which I may or may not show. My tits are totally purple and pink and blue. He caned so wickedly. And I bruise so easily. I had bruises in the first 5 minutes of play. And just touching them, seeing them, running my hands over them, leaves me lost in memories.
I’m such a wicked girl.
And I like it.