“Look so pretty when you cry for me, baby.”

Abby’s breath is hot on your face, thick fingers squishing your cheeks in as ragged, heaving sobs escape your drool-slick lips. Sooo overstimulated from everything going on, to the point where you’ve broken down. Hunched over like a helpless little fawn in her arms, teardrops wetting the collar of her shirt.

And, oh, how she loves that. How pathetic you are, even more so, the sounds your making.

It’s almost like she lives for this moment, and this moment only.

“Want me to wipe your cute little tears? Heh..”