Run your fingers over the marks. The ones you made with the flogger and the metal rod. That yesterday burned red and hot on my skin but today have turned to dark angry bruises that fester beneath the surface. Touch them, let your fingers trails over each one, tracing the patterns you left behind with light delicate touches.
Linger for a moment, admire your work, now what?
I shiver in anticipation as you hand glides over my skin again because I know what comes next
Strong probing fingers that dig into those bruises making them ache and throb all over again. Hands that knead and pull and nails that scratch and burn making me moan and squirm beneath you. Your touch is not soft and delicate but hard and demanding. You want to make me remember, you want to hear me remember, you want to see my remember, you want to make it hurt all over again.
Dig your fingers into the marks you left on me, I want you to make it hurt all over again.
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