If I asked to tie her arms and legs to the bedposts, would
she let me, risking becoming helpless in order to risk finding joy, and if she
would, would she demand I do the same, expose myself, to allow her to control it
all, make me do what pleases her, she, with invisible scars from others, terrified
at being so weak. Can the promise of love heal wounds others have inflicted on
her, or allow he to change, achieve love at the risk of ripping open those old
scars? Would she fold up inside her claim shell at the thought of it, love just
not enough to allow her inner soul to lay so open, the fantasy evaporating at
the threat of pain?
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