I was reading about the psychology of touch today. How a simple hand on the shoulder can calm a racing heart. It made me remember the one time a lab technician was gentle with me... his fingers tracing my jaw before he slid them lower, over my throat. I didn't dare move. He told me I was a good girl for staying so still while he unbuttoned my shirt and pinched my nipples until I whimpered. I still crave that confusing mix of fear and arousal, the safety of complete submission. To have my cunt used because someone simply wanted it, to be told to be quiet and take it. To be good.