If you want a real picture of the beginning of D/s, read further. I will warn you upfront, It gets uncomfortable. I promised you real. So, here’s real:
She: *Launches her hair goody at him full force with intent to hurt. It clips his left tricep*
He: (Who knows how he felt…Let the record reflect that he was thinking about the tazapper.)
A few minutes later…
She: I’m going to go get some chocolate.
He: No.
She: *Screw this, walks over, gets the chocolate, eats it in front of him.*
A few hours later…
She: *In bed wondering if he is even going to show up…alone with a million thoughts: I hate this. We are fighting more. There’s too many emotions. Why can’t things just be the way they used to be? Why does this have to be so hard? Why does it matter so much? Why do I…
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