do i arrive too quickly? do i come and go too easily? am i difficult? am i difficult to please? she stands before me, whip in hand. how remarkable. so easy, as if she was meant for this. but i do not want to be whipped, i want to break, i want to be shattered. she presses her body onto mine, runs her fingers in my hair. you are loved, she tells me, rubs herself even harder against me. am i? i whisper, am i here to be loved?