a friendly wager.
i'm nuts, i come up with really weird challenges. i can't blame the bet on you. it was my idea. but you're all for a game of (cat and mouse) chance.
- if you win: a prize whatever you want. you want me, of course. oh, you're going to rape me. and a bonus prize, you get to humiliate me for losing. for being stupid enough for betting in the first place. oh, you'll be sweet about it too. because that's just how you are. it's delicious, it really is... that you've found such a lovely pattern, yes i see it now. it's not that you don't want to do things for me, it's the principle of the matter, you think you shouldn't want to do things for me. and you want to make me work - really hard - for them. as well as find out what they're worth to me. a study of Alt and what i'm made of. constantly tested. sometimes to the point of mental exhaustion. but god, that's when it's good. when i just can't think anymore. you slowly begin the torture, read as testing, once more.
- if i win: i get my token gift, which i didn't put a lot of time into coming up with. i should have gone your route and given myself time to consider, but of course, you subconsciously didn't give me a choice. i know you hate repeating yourself. and you did it twice in that little challenge. if a bitch is going to challenge you, she had better put some thought into it. you knew i had not, i'm impulsive - you love that about me, it means i make poor decisions. i won't get a bonus gift if i win, i will feel deprived, lonely and abandoned (no fault of yours), so there's no reason for me to celebrate other than my token... i won't be smug. instead when i see you again, i will fall into your arms and bat my eyes at you... and pathetically rejoice in your calling me beautiful and smiling at me once more. the bonus gift is yours again, along with receiving all that affection and adoration and willingness to please. you will also be getting a significant amount of time to yourself, in which you will no doubt get a lot of writing and reading accomplished in peace (i'm very distracting and demanding) as well as plan for your imminent victory - because you won't lose, period.
you're a prick. and i'm a moron. i want you so fucking bad right now that i can taste it. maybe that's your boot polish. you make me want to fuck things like a bitch in heat. you know i'll miss your calling me a whore, a bitch, slut, cunt, beautiful, lovely, cutie, fuckmeat... you make me want to gnaw my own arm off in attempts to get the fuck away from you and at the same time, crawl inside and take up residence in your pocket - just to be close to you and play with your dick all the time. i'm bound, but i'm not. i'm tortured, but i'm not. i'm loved, but i'm not.
that's why i love you. because you make me hate you and love you all at once. because i don't matter. what i want, doesn't matter. and it does. i'm supposed to strike the balance. you want me to self-regulate, but i won't, i won't ever do that. not when it comes to you. because i can't get enough, but i don't want anymore.
