She lived for the moments when it all got a little too much. She watched him closely, purring with delight at tonight’s unique mix of embarrassment, discomfort, and fear.
Well, you’ve shaken me. I know by now — I think — what you’re capable of. Maybe moreso than you do yourself. You refrain yourself from treating other people as the darkest corners of your mind would dictate… but now you have me. You have my long-given consent to do what I don’t consent to… and you want to explore some of those dark corners. And it comes as no surprise to me that when you really want to explore some abyss, it has little to do with the physical and everything to do with the emotional.
You’re an emotional person. I don’t mean that you are emotionally unstable or that you are ruled by your emotions — just that you’re connected to emotions. Your own and other people’s. You see them. I am a psychological person — I can tell why I think what I think and why other people think what they think and how to shift those things. That’s not one of your greatest skills, but then again — being connected to emotion isn’t one of mine. Not even my own emotions.
So when you indicate to me that you want to play with emotions — experiment with emotions — I shiver. Because I think you can see into me and understand how my emotions exist and how to shift them better than I do myself… and that is where you want to work your sadism. In places where I can’t even tell a blow is falling until long afterwards when the ache and agony sets in. You want to live in my heart and see which walls can be knocked out and what happens you do knock them out.
I’m yours, love. The house of my heart is yours to do with as you please, as your curiosity and entertainment dictate. I’ll do my damndest not to interfere with your renovations, because I know you’ll be back with the drywall and plaster and paint to make repairs when you’re done.