Ready? Ok!

She reads my most recent post, about the cheerleaders, and appreciates as I knew she would. She is, after all, willing and more than able to satisfy my blackest desires. Well, maybe not the blackest ones. Yes, I'm probably a high-functioning sociopath, but I do understand the limits of the law. And I'm a hedonist, and there's nothing pleasurable in the concept of prison, after all.

Well, to a point, of course.

But anyway, this isn't about that. It's about her, and what she's willing to do for me, and with me. Her pleasure in these games that we play is unmistakable: as she says "You can't fake biology." She isn't rolling her eyes and going along with it. She's rolling her eyes because the pleasure is overwhelming.

So we start talking about cheerleaders, and I mention that all of the cheerleaders I knew in high school were horrible, stuck up girls who I wouldn't want to fuck with a rented cock. The idea of being that intimate with someone that... vacant and useless is just... well, it's boring. And doesn't sound like a lot of fun to me.

Which is when she gets the grin on her face, the one that tells me that she's thought of something that I should have probably thought of myself. "So..." she murmurs, "You wouldn't want to make them pay for that?"

The image bursts into my mind fully formed: Her tight top with the school emblem and her bra are pushed up in a wad around her neck. Her pleated skirt is flipped up onto her back, exposing her ripped cotton panties. She's on her knees, hands and ankles hastily with rope, head down on the ground as my hands grip her hips and ass tight enough to draw little crescents of blood where my nails dig and gouge as I hammer in and out of her... Oh, and she's begging me to stop, or at least, she's trying to through the gag. The tears on her face streak mascara down her cheeks from under the blindfold.

So pretty.

All of this, in just a second. My expression must have given some of it away, because she laughs that evil laugh, joins me momentarily in that lovely place... then says "Or, maybe she just needs some help with her grades, and came to you..."

"Bet she'd be willing to do anything to get that "A", huh?"

"Oh, definitely."

The best part is that it's not the girls I knew back then that I see in my mind in this moment, it's her. Maybe she's wearing the costume, but it's her. It's always her. It's always been her, even before we met. She is the perfect Yin to my Yang.

Only we're both dark, just in slightly different shades.