I’ll never become one of the things he owns, yet… 

Dominance overflows his being, oozing from his pores. I fall prey to his uniquely hypnotic language and arousing, possessive touches. 

Fear pinches my tendons before the leather tongue flicks my clit. In my gulping sobs, I hate him.

Then, he knees my thighs apart, pierces the pain, and my screams of relief make me forget. 

Viscous evidence of his desire for me drips down my thigh. I love him.

I’ve become a masochist to the splintering mind-fuck of submission, yet…