Photo Not Mine. Credit To The Owner

DARK & LUXE

“There’s a riot in my heart and I‘ve been dying to tell you how I feel, dying a little every day that you’re oblivious to the walls I keep having to rebuild because of you. The thing is you’re not sorry and you will never be because you’re used to me falling over my own to feet in order to impress you. I don’t know how to stop needing you, not yet, but one day I will lay down my weapons and I will stop fighting for you with everything that I have. But that day is not now, nor will it be tomorrow. Until I no longer see your smile when I close my eyes, I will have to wait for the war drums in my chest to quiet.”

— riot / n.j.

I greeted him at the door on 4" heels, a high ponytail, and a satin apron.

He pushed me into my apartment with hungry kisses and desperate gropes.

I peeled back the layers of a long day at work: briefcase with a thud by the door and the friction of his belt through each belt loop. The buckle jingling as it fell to the floor.

He bent me over the table and thrust himself against my back and ass before unzipping and revealing his excitement to me. I ran the stiletto heel up his inseam while using the mental map of his body to guide my hands to revisit my treasure.

His mouth and hands raced to discover every spot that would make me gasp or moan. I cocked my head and squirmed in the shadow of his stature. The high ponytail danced against my skin.

He grasped my long brown tresses at the tip and recalled all the photos and videos in his wank bank of arched backs and bent necks.

He yanked so hard that he herniated C5-6. During the surgery for my artificial disc replacement, my surgeon found a bone shard 3mm from my spinal cord.

The man who whispered in my ear of how i was “marriage material” moved to Toronto 2 weeks after he damn near made me into a quadriplegic. He closed on a house the day of my surgery.

To this day, I jump when someone puts their hands near my head. My ears ring constantly. And every time I see one of you all post a photo of someone having their hair pulled, I think about all the pain one dumb, badly-executed move caused me.

1. Get consent. 2. Give warning. 3. Grab slowly and smoothly at the roots 4. Movement comes from the wrist (minimizes chance of injury to directional force) 5. If need be, let the person with the hair being pulled hold on to your wrist to either limit your movement or as a failsafe. 6. Over time develop trust with your partner to dial up neck extension, force, or speed.

All that and the fucker never even gave me a single orgasm.

I want a woman who is as fiercely protective of me as I would be of them. I want this😍

Hold tight...