He’d always been one for a game, he liked the control, the rush he got when he dominated you in any task. He always showed his satisfaction, rubbing his accompaniment in your face.. degrading your loss.

Well today you’d had enough.. you wanted your own win, you wanted to rub his face in all your own glory.

There was one game he liked to play, he called it ‘ribbons,’ he’d tie as many bows as possible on your body, using silky pastel ribbons.. the aim was to continue to add them until one untied itself, a degrading game really.. it was just another pathetic excuse to keep you wrapped around his little finger. Another way to prevent you from ever leaving his side.

Usually when he arrived home he had a routine, He’d remove his boots, dust them down. Go to the kitchen, pour a single shot of neat whiskey, then light one cigarette to enjoy whilst he drank his liquor. Then and only then, will he give you any formal attention.

And so.. he arrived home and began his evening ritual.

You were patient, you were always patient, you loved him really and he loved you, he was just too stubborn and condescending to ever truly express himself. You entered the minimalist living space, the room was bleak, a perfect depiction of ghost himself. But you couldn’t focus on that, you were on a mission, you had your task, you would complete it!

Oh how you regret your decision.. how much shame you felt as you lay there, hands bound by silk.. eyes desperately looking into his.. pleading… he’d seen right through your plan, and snatched you up before you had the chance to ask, it was quite thrilling really..you had to admit. He'd never allow you the satisfaction. Now you could only watch as he wrapped pink and white against you, he spoke, simply,

‘Behave.’