Two Questions

That's all I get, two questions, when my Him allows me to ask anything at all. I never know what to ask. "Are you going to hurt me?" I already know the answer to that. He's already promised to up the ante on me. We've graduated to what he considers a thrashing. "Will you fuck me?" I know the answer to that question as well. Yes, he will, yes, I will beg for him, yes, he will fuck me better than anyone else can. I suppose I could ask him if others will be watching today. I'm not sure I want to know. He knows how much freer I feel in cuffs and blindfolded, he knows my fear of the judgment of others. He knows that part of his allowing others to play with me is that they are not allowed to say anything detrimental about me or to me. Only he can call me his slut, his whore. For him, I am.

So I say nothing when he tells me that I can ask him questions.