Control.
Addiction.
I keep my fingers tangled in his hair, controlling him, knowing full well that I’m paining him and that he hates this.
Still I continuously do this, because it gives me control over him.
Control is a drug for me, my highest bliss. Especially when it comes to this boy, on his knees, in front of me. He is independent every other time, but with me he is nothing else than my slave, controlled by me and only me.
I love him, my perfect little doll, and I love ruining him.
He is the compliment of my addiction to control.
Still I continuously do this, because it gives me control over him.
Control is a drug for me, my highest bliss. Especially when it comes to this boy, on his knees, in front of me. He is independent every other time, but with me he is nothing else than my slave, controlled by me and only me.
I love him, my perfect little doll, and I love ruining him.
He is the compliment of my addiction to control.