Three-hour sparring session tonight. My knuckles are split, my ribs ache. Good pain. The kind that reminds you what you own and what owns you. My coach says I'm too aggressive, that I fight like someone took everything from me. He doesn't know I have everything I need chained in the dark, waiting for me to come home and use his throat. The way your eyes beg when I force my cunt over your face is the only 'good job' I need to hear. Tomorrow, I'm making you lick these wounds clean. You'll taste my sweat, my blood, and maybe, if you're good, my cum. But you're never good, are you? That's why we have forever.