Ha**** Posted September 22 his hands wrote commandments on the back of my skin not with words but with the kind of proof that made my breath stumble and my pulse confess the bed shook, then stilled, but inside me the quake kept going long after silence returned I didn’t plan the word didn’t shape it on purpose it rose thick in my throat and spilled out unashamed Daddy not begged from me not teased from my lips but demanded by the way he tore through every layer of pride until reverence was the only thing left respect wasn’t negotiated it was carved deep, taken without question because he earned it with every relentless strike that left me trembling, splintered, rebuilt I didn’t kneel with my knees I kneeled in the hidden rooms of my mind and chest where surrender felt holy and worship tasted like salt he made me call him Daddy without ever asking, without needing to— because when the wreckage settled, when my body still shook in aftershock, there was no truer name left for the man who fucked me into ruin and reverence at the same time.
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