It’s all fucked, she thinks. The world’s fucked.

She’s fucked. Pained. Betrayed. Bruised.

Today it was the paddle, the flogger, the cane. It was those big hands and that soft rope.

Today, it was trusted. It was expected. It was pleasurable.

Those tears were cathartic.

 

Before, she was screwed. Scarred. Hurt.

Last time it was the silence, abruptness, the pain. It was those irreconcilable worlds crashing down.

Last time, it was cruel. Not expected. It fucking hurt.

Those tears were undeserved.