Docile.

You know I’m obedient. You know I’d follow your every command. Your every whim.

My submission runs deep. It’s innate.

And yet…something else mingles in my blood. Something else demands to be heard. Demands to be noticed.

Break me.

I want to be mindless. Dumb.

I want you to take the very notion of a fight and rip it from me.

Before the thoughts even form; destroy them.

I don’t need to be beaten in order to hand myself over to you. My will doesn’t need to be broken to bend to yours.

You already own me. Mind. Body. Arguably my soul. You know it’s not necessary. Not necessary to wage war on my spirit.

Yet you will do it anyway. I will be your willing victim. I will fight you just to feel that dominance, that power swarm me on all sides.

I will fight against you to feel that I have no choice. To feel the futility. To drown in hopelessness.

I don’t want to rescued. I want to be fucking broken.

I want you to watch the light in my eyes fade. The fire behind them dim. I want you to watch my brain numb.

Watch me slip into the state of a docile doll. Fragile. Malleable. Compliant.

Revel in your victory. Bask in it. For it is yours.

And I will revel in my own sort.

I will bask in the sweet glow of your pleasure. Of your approval.

Because that is all I ever need. The only scrap you ever need to throw me.

And oh, you know it well.