The moment I crossed her, the second I knew the mere hint of a line to step beyond was but a mere illusion of what I may wish to retreat back over
The word she said, a dagger as poison as the tip of a scorpion so poised to strike
The moment she struck me, the second I knew there was so much more than what my eyes could ever wish to tell
The whip, the look, the pleasure so poised to fuel painful love
The moment it changed, so happy to be but a mere slave to all demands that bitch commands


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