See, here's the thing. I know how bad you can get. I know who you are and how you can
be. It's not even that you're a brat, I don't think that. You're way too eager to listen.
Your whole body begs for it. You turn away when I ask you to do something, but those
fucking hands of yours twitch with the need to fulfill what I ask. Such a good pet. You
know, leaving you these voicemails just makes me laugh because I know you'll hate me for
leaving them. But eat up every word. Listen twice before touching yourself. Cry because
I'm not there. And finally, when you're standing in front of me with those hands that gripped
my hips so tightly last night, you'll wrap them around my neck and scold me for leaving
this message. That sounds so delicious to me, you know, making you feel as if I'm there.
Each word and sigh feeling like a light caress because you want me. That's the part that
makes me the weakest, knowing that you could want me to the point of losing control. I
want you all the time, weak and trembling for me. So here's the deal. I'm going to
come home and you're going to be waiting for me. Naked, in bed, and ready to go. Pick
out your favorite toy and be ready for me to take my time with you. Be ready to cry
for me. Bye darling. Have fun at work.
