Full sentence, Arcadia. That was the rule.
Being spoken to like that shouldn’t turn me on. It’s weird, and demeaning. And the more I examine what’s morally wrong about it, the wetter I get.
I want to have sex with you.
Happy???
Yes.
But there’s this, too. Making him happy. What Faust’s offering me is comforting; he wants something very specific, and I can give that to him, and vice versa. When we inevitably part ways, it’ll be as simple as shaking hands and putting away the chessboard. Mess-free.
I work up more courage.
Will you tell me what you like? Like the details of this thing for you.
Sexually?
Yes. ( you)
Usual limits.
No bondage. No pain.
I like control.
Limits. Huh. Swiping into my browser, I google “normal BDSM limits” and return moments later.
Same re: limits
That was very fast.
Well I am a woman who knows herself, Fausto!!
Hm.
We’ll see.
You think I’m going to ask you to spank me the first time we have sex
No. But you might the tenth, eleventh time, and we would need to discuss it.
I’m falling into autopilot, fascinated and aroused and very angry we’re in two separate countries.
10! 11!!
So what does “control” look like
I tell you what to do and you do it.
Or I ask you what you want, and you tell me.
Honesty. Of course that’s what would get him off.
Isn’t that just like
Good communication/sex
(Theoretically)
