Want.

Want big fuck off angry bruises.
Want the kind of lingering achy pain that makes me doubt my sanity for wanting it in the first place.
Want tears of regret and gratitude and hopelessness.
Want the coldness of him when I feel his energy change.
Sadism pouring off him, silencing me.
Want whimpers and those strangled noises that seem to come from a far off stranger to escape my lips.
Want to cry because its so awful, yet so fucking wonderful I can't do anything but exist.
There, just there.
Want intensity so bright and loud and consuming.
Want to beg for it to end and to know that he'll decide when he's given me enough.
No escape.
No control.
No power.
Want debasement, degradation, defeat.
Want to lose my words, while I struggle to come to terms with what he's done to me.
While I fight the disgust and the shame and the self pity.
Want to just give in.
To revel in his cruelty.
To perform.
To please.
To pander.
Want darkness.
Want desire.
Want fear.
Want to hate him and to love him for what he's done.
For what he's capable of.
Want all the things I cannot share here.
Those secret sordid private thoughts that scare me.
Want the pride I'll feel that he's enjoyed me, my struggle, my sacrifice, my surrender.
Used.
Pathetic.
Dirty.
Broken.

Want.
Just want.