In the beginning, it was a question, a single word with upward inflection. It was as innocent as any question can be in the middle of conversation about talking dirty.
“I’m nobody’s bitch,” you answered. It was off-limits, out-of-bounds, and seemed to hit a nerve. I don’t recall if I apologized for asking, but I remember wanting to.
But now, with the confidence of many moons, welts raised, and bindings tied, we both know things have changed.
The word spit through gnashed teeth, snarled lips. You accept it like a baby bird — open-mouthed, hungry, but unsure.
Now, as then, you’re not just anyone’s bitch. You’re my bitch… and you like it, don’t you?