I want you reading this and feeling that familiar drop in your stomach —
the one where you remember exactly what you are with me:
the one who waits, the one who watches, the one who burns while I take what I want.

You get humiliated so easily… and you love it.
You love how small I make you feel.
How easily I can cut right through whatever confidence you pretend to have.
You love how fast you fold the second I talk to you like this.

That’s your place.
Down.
Wanting.
Begging inside your own head even when you try not to.

I bet you’re already getting worked up from the disrespect alone.
That’s what makes this so good —
the fact that you can’t hide how much it destroys you in exactly the way you crave.

I want you thinking about how embarrassing it is to react like this.
How pathetic you feel when you get jealous.
How needy you become the moment you imagine me with someone who actually gives me what I want while you’re left shaking for whatever attention I throw at you.

And I do throw it at you —
because that’s all you get:
what I decide.
When I decide.
How I decide.

You don’t get ownership.
You don’t get control.
You get the thrill of being beneath me, wanting something you know you don’t deserve.

Tonight, I want you already in that mindset.
Low.
Hungry.
Embarrassed that this is who you are with me — and loving every humiliating second of it.

You exist to react to me.
Don’t forget that.

— Me