The marks from his hands were my tracks, the means to a dangerous high. The physical pain was only part of my addiction, and to be frank, it wasn’t something I wanted. It was, however, something I’d accepted as a key component in unleashing the powerful waves that drowned me in Mike’s touch and scent. They washed over me, intoxicating me in a way that no drug ever had. And that, it seemed, was the crux of my enslavement.
*Trigger Warning
I love this. The play we do is intoxicating. The rush of adrenalin and endorphins. We are enslaved by our need.