It was probably kind of weird, that you liked being hurt. That you liked being slapped and spat on. Maybe it was weird. No, no it definitely was. But you didn't care. And neither did Patrick. Your lovely partner. Who really liked laying hands on you. With consent, of course.

It was like a release. Probably not great for your mentality. But it felt good, and it was under your control, so it didn't matter, right? You just liked the stinging and you liked the hurting and you liked the tears.

Patrick was home, which was rare. He was always out, always doing something. And you were feeling in need. Which wasn't rare. You always were in need of something from that man. So while you laid your head on his lap, watching a movie on the couch as he relaxed, you wanted something from him. As usual.

You moved your arm up and grabbed his knee, alerting him to you, and looked up at him.

"Hey... Can you hit me?"

You whispered softly. He made eye contact and just took a sharp breath in, but didn't say or do anything. He just stared down at you. So you spoke again.

"Please can you-"

And in the middle of your sentence a hand landed on your cheek. A loud slap noise resonates throughout the room. You didn't reach up to soothe it. Your eyes watered.

"I heard you the first time."