You’re always your best made up when you fall your hardest. There’s something ab
You’re always your best made up when you fall your hardest. There’s something about all that makeup, the dresses, the jewelry, that lull you into a false sense of personality, making you think that your clothes are you, and you don’t need to worry about the rest. It lets your guard down, it leaves you open and vulnerable. That’s what you get hit hardest. That’s when the gutpunch comes in, and it hurts twice as bad because you weren’t expecting it. That’s what you meet that guy and he’s not a guy because ‘guy’ doesn’t adequately explain him, or even come close to describing him. He’s 'The Man’ only without the 70s hippie vibe. The definite article. The. The one that makes you flop on your bed, defeated by a moment, when you get home. Your hair, a mess of curls, that most beautifully arranged and immaculate mess of curls, makes a proper mess on the sheets around you. You’re undone, made down by him just as much as you were made up by you. Because that’s all that persona ever was. Made up. Fictional. An artificial construct that you tried to use as a shield to socialise in such a way that kept you safe from feeling something again. But then That Man comes along, and fucks everything up. And you can’t do anything but smile up at the ceiling, and maybe laugh a little. -- source link
#et voila#dominance#submission#erotica