“This isn’t all about you. It isn’t some fantasy, none of that safeword bullshit. It is all about me, right now, and for your foreseeable future. So scream all you want. I don’t give a fuck. No one does.”
This strange dark slippery sentiment crept into my head yesterday. Sitting at work combing through the millions of profiles trying to find the ones that would help me do my job, I had a full-fledged fantasy detonate in the forebrain.
And I did. Not. Like it.
This wasn’t some hot sexy thing. It was Bad. It wasn’t consensual. It wasn’t safe, it was quite insane and it was beyond risky. There was no care, no love, no desire, no safety.
This was worst-case scenario. Real fear. Real damage. Real rage. Emotional snuff. Physical destruction.
And it repulsed me even at the same time I wanted it so badly I became dizzy.