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He deals her a slap. The slap came across her face, flat fingers against her cheek, impact, with a satisfying snap, that dances around the room. She felt her flesh warming, crimson blood under soft porcelain skin, flushing it to a shade of rouge, one could mistake for well applied make up, in the dim light.

Her head slumps forward, stringy hair, damp from sweat, hangs like frayed curtains in front of her eyes, eyes full of tears and smeared mascara, that falls down her cheeks. The ball gag falls loose from her mouth, released by a benevolent other party.

Pooled saliva, falls from her ruby lips, plump and tender, sliding down her bare breasts, warm, slick liquid, down her stomach, past her navel, down her waist as it passes her aching womanhood, combining with other fluids, as it drips from two set of lips, stringing against her thigh. Weak knees, bent in, as bound hands hold her small frame aloft.

A moan, soft, so soft, barely escapes, over the sound of gasping breath, uttering the sincerest thanks to her dealer. Showing true gratitude for his time and attention.

She loved her dealer.

He brought her what she needed. What she needed so desperately, to allow her mind to escape, her body to relax, for her thoughts, to leave, and be filled with everything she desired.

This dealer offers no drugs, however. You won’t discover him, in back alleys, pockets full of pills and tabs, vials of substances cooked up in labs, or herbs and fungus, from the earth. No, this dealer worked in emotion, in pain, but in pleasure and love. He deals to this girl, as soon as she needs it, as soon as she calls, and yet she’s been sober every day of her life.

But When her breathing turns to sobs, heavy cries that wrack the body, heaving, longing, yearning for closeness, and sore skin, cuffed and bound wrists can no longer support shaking legs and bruised feet, that’s when he deals in other things.

He deals her names, the ones that make her feel soft and loved, she’s no longer “bitch, slut, whore”, she’s “darling, honey, my love”, My Love, love, he loves her, so deeply. He loves her like he at all times has, and at all times will.

He deals her soft kisses on tender places, strong arms, in a warm embrace, cool water over tired lips, a towel, a shower, a blanket, a closeness she so desperately, desperately, needs. Then words, he deals her words, statements, promises, affirmations

“It’s okay”

“I’m right here”

“I love you so much”

“You did so well”

If she asks for it, if she’s ready, if she’s wanting, he’ll deal her other things. He’ll deal her passionate, deep kisses, on all parts of her body, delivering pleasure, only, no pain, to every nerve, every place, she so desperately craves him. Then he will deal her himself, his warmth, his manhood, two bodies, together, in a lewd but perfect dance, wrapped together in arms and legs, skin on skin, whispers of thanks and love, as two souls rejoice in their infallible bliss.

Where can you discover her dealer, you may ask? Right by her side, where he at all times is.

And he won’t deal a single thing to you.

Because just as he is her dealer, she is his. And the two of them, are one and the same.

Addicted.

NSFW: yes

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