No one hurts me like you do. Because no one loves me like you do.

Cocooned in your arms, you held me while I sobbed. I must have looked a state, tears trailing down my cheeks, cheeks already stained with spit and sweat and cum and piss. Crying on your birthday of all days.

“Sorry,” I said like I often do.

“I’m not a bit sorry,” you replied; giggling like you always do.

You knew, didn’t you, just knew they were tears of joy. Understood that right then I couldn’t find the words. Not like you, Miss, you found the perfect words; you always do.

“I love you, baby,” you said. Others have said that to me, you know. But no one has ever got close to adding, “I love you for who you are.”

For who I am. For who I am. God, there have been times when I’ve hated who I am. When the words cum-slut and pain-whore turn into barbs; usually said affectionately at first but eventually tarnishing with contempt. Guys who are oh-so up for threesomes and moresomes, but God forbid that I actually like it too fucking much.

Never you; is it significant that you’re the first woman I have loved, I mean truly loved? The only one to see me saying ‘just fun’ and ‘nothing serious’ for what they actually were, armour plating for the emotions.

I’ve always thought I was addicted to cock. But I love your cunt more, truly, truly worship her. Miss, nowadays nothing’s more important than pleasuring your pretty pussy.

You know I still need cock too. Of course, you do, tying me up and letting, no encouraging, those six guys to use me. Telling three of them to fill my slut-holes with cum and the others to ejaculate over my tits and face. Did I ever tell you that the last thing I saw before I lost myself in a supernova orgasmic rush was your smile? I came so hard that day; not for them, but for you, Miss.

When we first met, you seemed a little cautious. Oh, I know that’s an odd thing to say. Given that, on our first date, you smeared my cunt-cream over your fingers, bent me over and stretched my anal ring as you finger-fucked my arse, one finger, then a second, a third and a glorious fourth; the gorgeous, gorgeous burn wracking my body. The palm of your other hand slapped my clit; firmer and firmer until I screamed your name for the first time and gushed all over your fingers.

That cautiousness, so unlike the others, is, I realized, because you don’t get off on just using me. You’ve always taken care to check that I’m okay pushing the boundaries of filthy whoredom. And now you know; I always am, always have been and always will be. But no more do I want to be just any old slut. I’m your filthy whore now, Miss.

For a while, I was like an onion, my emotional core wrapped in layer upon layer. Having got me physically naked you then methodically stripped me of my emotional baggage. It so fucking scared me, Miss. Could you love the dirty slut you found at my core?

And you did, you love me; your fuck-toy, your bitch and whatever other words it is my privilege for you to use. Being loved for who I am is the best thing that has ever happened to me.

Today, your birthday, oh my God, I so didn’t know what to give you. The lunch I made for you was really only about getting you fed before your night shift at the hospital. Though I did bake a special cake; you looked so cute, giggling when you managed to smear icing on your nose.

Not food, nor jewellery, nor any trinket I could have bought, they wouldn’t do for my Miss on her special day. I needed to give you the most precious thing I have, namely me; to find a way of showing you I am totally and irrevocably yours.

That’s why, after lunch, you found me spreadeagled on my bed, my hands and feet handcuffed to the bed frame. Naked, apart that is from my collar; the collar you strapped around my neck months ago, the collar I will always wear for you. Well, there was also a ball-gag in my mouth, I didn’t need to speak for I was yours to do with as you pleased.

You’ve always been so fucking intuitive with me, Miss. God knows how you knew that today I needed to be taken to the edge of my limits. But I realized you did when your eyes raked over my body, seeing my pussy already sticky with strands of goo. For you immediately fetched the nipple clamps you bought for me, the ones you can actually screw tighter and tighter, from my bedside table.

Holding the clamps in your hand you slowly undressed, unveiling your beautiful body. You know I think you are so, so gorgeous and, even though the gag meant I couldn’t tell you that again, the drool dribbling from the edge of my mouth must have given the game away.

I watched your nose twitch, inhaling the scents now swirling around the room. Your cunt or mine, Miss, which one made you smile?

You smeared some drool over my stiffening nipples and did what you always do before you hurt me. You said, “I love you.”

Clamping one nipple and then the other, our eyes locked while you achingly slowly tightened the clamps. I didn’t flinch as your ratcheted up the pressure, my nipples throbbing, the burn flowing straight to my weeping cunt.

Pain and pleasure, the Siamese twins of my sexuality. You once asked me why, and all I could say was that I crave the way pain unlocks a higher realm of pleasure. And while others use me like force was the name of the game, you never have. Always watching me like a hawk, pushing me, inch by delicious inch, right to my limits but taking care never to brutalize me.

With the clamps fully tightened, the excruciating pain liquefied my cunt and my drool dribbles became a torrent. The ball gag stopped me clearly articulating my words, but those mumbles you heard were, “I love you, Miss.” I am certain you knew that; you always do.

There’s a pattern to you, you know. Only ever allowing twenty minutes before you release the clamps. And you expect me to cum as the blood flows into my numb nipples. That’s not difficult, the hard part’s always been not cumming before you allow me to. Especially when you do what you did tonight.

Taking a butt plug from my drawer, you smeared it in my drool. Then whispered, “I love you,” and twisted the plug hard into my arse-hole. You just took me, the stretch and the burn so agonizingly good.

Remember when you said that I was by far your most anal girlfriend. I burst into tears. You were puzzled, but held me tight like you always do. And giggled, then kissed away my salty tears, when I pointed out that was the first time you had called me your girlfriend.

I love you saying girlfriend, though you are now quite taken with calling me ‘my anal-slut of a girlfriend,’ which is as cute as it is accurate. Oh, and your subsequent giggle is as adorable as it is wicked.

With my nipples clamped and the plug stretching my arse-hole, I confess I was expecting you to seat the pony end of your purple Feeldoe in your cunt. I adore how lewdly it juts from your lasered pussy and adore how you shaft me with it until our cum-goo merges and you fuck our essence into the cunt you own.

But there was no Feeldoe tonight, tonight you reached for your crop. And I almost cried with joy, as that could only mean one thing and that was the one thing I desperately wanted. With my arse, cunt and nipples occupied, you planned to fuck my mouth and feed me your cum. And that was so where I needed you.

The crop is so you, paddles aren’t subtle enough, are they? You love the control of being able to escalate my pain and you have shown me how sensual the feel of leather on my skin is.

Fuck, Miss, when you tugged the chain attached to the clamps just as the crop slid between my cunt-lips and teased my folds, I almost passed out with the joy of it. The intense pain in my nipples contrasted with the soft sensitive caresses of the leather on my sodden slit.

Deep down, I think, as you are my Miss, it is my job to make you cum first. You’ve clearly told me that, as I’ve given you the precious gift of submission, then if you want me to cum first, I fucking well will cum first.

And the rhymical tap, tap, tap of the crop on my clit was your demand for an audience with my orgasm. The leather, softer against my oozing slit in contrast with the rougher tugging of my numb nipples is how you open the door into sub-space. Pain and pleasure, the door I was born needing to walk through.

When you released the first clamp, the world stopped spinning, a moment of calm. Then the blood rushed into my nipple, burning me in a fire of pain. Pain cascaded through my body and smashed against my throbbing clit.

In time with the burning waves, you smacked the leather tab hard against my clit, splattering my juices over me. Your other hand forcefully screwed the plug deeper into my arse.

I was lost in lust, gone, nothing mattered except for the escalating ecstasy that wracked my body.

“You’re going to cum for me, you filthy whore,” you whispered.

“Your bitch, your slut,” I whimpered into the gag. You wouldn’t have heard those words, of course, but you know I always chant them rosary like before I cum for you.

“I love you. Cum now, baby,” you whispered, as you released the other clamp and I dissolved in agony. The exquisite pleasure of the pain in my throbbing nipples and clit echoing the relentlessly sounds of the crop reverberating through my bedroom.

My cunt gushed, my clit spasmed, my arms and legs tugged against the restraints as a monster orgasm tore through me. Wave after wave hit me, my orgasms as relentless as the crop.

And then as the surges abated, I opened my eyes and saw you smiling, the sweetest most loving smile. You undid my gag and I whimpered, “I love you,” as you kissed my collar.

Then, scraping your teeth over my soft skin, you reddened and refreshed the bite mark on my neck. You bit the nape of my neck hard, your teeth mark tattooed into my skin so the world will know that I belong to you. Taking a moment, you admired your handiwork before swinging a leg over my face and hovering your pretty pussy above my lips.

A strand of your goo hung like a pearl necklace, so I reached for it with my tongue. It splattered into my mouth, the flavour of you exploding on my taste buds. I saw you smile down at me before you gripped the headboard and seated your pussy on my lips. My whole world became your cunt.

Rocking your hips, you slapped your folds over my lips, smearing me in your honey, your clit bumping my nose. Harder and faster, using me as a fuck-toy, you bounced on my face, your cunt fucking me into the bed.

I wiggled my tongue into your opening, your velvet folds clenching her as you rode me; slamming, grinding, using and fucking me. Then with a howl, you came, flooding my face in your cum-goo, over-filling my mouth with your essence so some ran down my cheeks.

When you finally lifted your oozing slit from my lips, your looked down at me, your eyes deep pale blue pools of love, your pretty smile lighting up your face.

I so wanted you to know I needed more so I stared up at you, longingly. And you raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled. My heart skipped a beat when I saw realization dawn and you smiled wickedly. “You need me to pee on you, don’t you?” you said.

“No, Miss. Pee’s way too nice a word. I need you to use me as your piss-slut.”

You licked your lips, fuck, it was the most erotic thing I’ve seen. I whispered, “Only you, Miss, can baptise me as a piss-whore!”

You undid one of my wrist restraints. It took a moment for the penny to drop, but, when it did, I slid the fingers on my free hand through my slit, scooping my cum-juices which I smeared on my clit.

You watched me, the pleasure from my fingers no doubt etched on my face. Then you closed your eyes, concentrated, and a dribble of piss spattered onto my mouth. The dirty filthy flavour exploding on my taste buds.

With a sigh, you let go, the piss-stream a torrent, splashing into my mouth and spilling out; splattering over my face, my tits, matting my hair. My fingers furiously rubbed my clit.

I swallowed as much as I could, as you feed me your piss. I wanted it all, everything you could give me, but the flow was too strong. And when I came, as hard as I have ever cum, I spat out piss as I screamed your name.

The piss mixing on my skin with drool, cum and sweat was a heady mixture of body fluids. Marked with your scent, I felt baptised in your love.

The first time anyone had pissed in my mouth, was everything I hoped it would be. As a benediction of how I feel, I have promised myself that that gift is yours and yours alone.

We snuggled together afterwards. You know, as I always tell you, that snuggling is the best part. And I know, as you always tell me, that is because you love me and will always take the time to tell me that after you have hurt me.

Cocooned in your arms, you held me while I sobbed, laughed, covered your face in kisses and repeatedly whispered, “I love you.”

Of course, you eventually had to shower, you can’t smell like you’ve been with a piss-whore when you go to work.

I love that you love being a nurse, love that you love healing hurt. It isn’t really a contradiction that you heal everyone’s hurt but mine. You can only hurt the one you love when you know that is what she craves.

Words failed me as we snuggled together, but I just had to tell you how much this afternoon meant to me.

Don’t worry, I did wash my hands so there are no body fluids on my keyboard. Mind you the same can’t be said for the rest of my apartment, thank God for wooden floors. You are so coming shopping with me this weekend. I need a new mattress. And I am so going to blush when I ask if they have waterproof ones.

I know you read your messages after you finish work. I would love you not to go back to your place and rest there. Come here, you will find me asleep, happily wrapped in sheets that reek of you.

Use me if you would like. Snuggle against me and sleep if you would like. Whichever, I just need to wake up in your arms.

You loving me as I am is the greatest gift I have ever been given. Thank you; I am yours, forever.

I love you, Miss.