Lust to the heart is Taco Bell to the colon. It is craveable and delicious and fills your senses with yummy desires, especially while inebriated. You consume it without thought, or with obsessive thought, depending on the day/taco (Sometimes you order the family meal for yourself and eat 10 tacos). When it reaches your rectum, you finally understand that you never even liked it and it gave you ass cancer, besides. I pulsate magnetically towards what is bad for me and have zero desire for the healthy option. I want extra cheese, extra sour cream, and jalapeños. I want a Crunchwrap and a Chalupa, with a side of Mexican Pizza and Cinnamon Twists. I want you to tie me up and make me suffer. Suspend me by my ankles and whip my naked body until I beg for mercy. Make me understand that mercy is a fairy tale told to children, and punish me for such foolish fantasies. Put me on the rack, baby, I’m flexible “wink”! I’ve never looked for respect in a lover or a friend, but I have recently decided what I want in friends and know what to look for in good people. Lovers are not so simple, because I am aroused by abuse (I’m aroused by writing that last part, or maybe hungry?), and seemingly, nothing else. I mean, a pretty face and a nice body will get you far with me, but bonus points if you’re manipulative and controlling.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ia08q7/f4a_bondage_torture_lust_to_the_heart_is_taco