In the mood to submit

I'm in the mood to submit.

I'm starting to relax again as things calm down, but I'm still a little tense.
So I'm in the mood to submit.

I'm in the mood for your hand in my hair, your voice a harsh whisper against my ear. I'm in the mood to feel that thrill of fear when you touch me, that moment of wondering of whether you'll hurt me or not. That shivering uncertainty of whether your next touch will be a caress or a blow.

I'm in the mood to hear you call me your little whore, to feel your hand wrapped around my throat and squeezing. To feel my breath cut off with a soft gasp, that spurt of panic when I can't breathe. The melting trust as I realize that you control even the flow of air into my lungs.

I'm in the mood to feel myself pressed into your body, your grip tight, painful, on my cunt even as it makes me wet. To feel your lips brush mine with frightening tenderness even as you whisper the things you want to do to me.

I'm in the mood to have you hurt me. To feel you press into the tenderest parts of me until my mouth gapes in a silent scream. To feel my sense of Baumeister's 'self' slip away until I am only a body, only a bundle of nerves and wires for your manipulation.

I'm in the mood to submit to you.

To give you my body to use, my mind to break.

I want you to break me. I want you to hurt me, to use me, to break me.