Look, I'm just a sick and depraved pervert, idk man
I want to try to run. I want her not to let me. I want a safe-word. I want the works. Covered in colorful strings of soft slimy goodness like a dirty car getting pulverized in a carwash. Naked. On Display. Study my traumas, pull on my strings. Make me feel useless. Make me feel sorry for my reflexes. Make me feel sorry for kneading in pleasure. Make me feel stalked. Anything, but abandoned. Make me feel her in my fear. Does this make me less of a woman? less of a man? I'll let her decide. I want her to know I want her to be unescapable. I want her to toy with me and keep me walking on eggshells, building tension into the next session. When she leaves I want to break, just a little. No more full climax for kitten. This is how she can be irreplaceable. I want to be her project. When i'm wise enough not to run, i want to be shamed for being so weak i need to tie and bind myself for her because I know she hates what she can have easily, and the next best thing is some'thing...