I adjust my polo neck for the tenth time, grateful it's a bit windy and chilly today, otherwise, I'd have looked like a mad woman walking around with such heavy clothing mid-summer. But what can I do when the paparazzi won't leave me alone?
All they need is one snap short of my bruised neck, and the entire internet will start making assumptions about how my husband is abusing me and I'm some Mary Sue wife who can't voice my problems out, when the truth is, I once tasted the glory of kinky play and suddenly can't hold back.
A week has passed since the restless night of passion Desmond and I dedicated to rough play, and we have done it twice since then.
I thought submission was tough but hey, when your husband is a delicate dominant who checks up on you even with his hand around your neck, how can you not love being ravaged? At this point, I might just let my mouth lead my life and blatantly tell Desmond I love him, because how can he be such an angel to me all the time?
