He grabs my hair and pulls me where he wants me to go. To my knees, to another room, to the floor. Wherever, however he wants me. The excitement I get from his dominating grip on my hair is only matched by the pleasure of relief from pain as it loosens. There is nothing like the feeling when he takes me from behind. Pulling my hair to match my body to the rhythm of his thrusts. So this week I captured his hand. Holding onto what is his with strength. With visible tension. With confidence.
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