Safe Word: "Harder"

Other men won't do the things,    
that you do to me?
They say they can't stand
the idea of another man
laying his hands on me.
They all wonder how
I expect them to hurt me,
the way that I want?
The way that I ask.
This is always confusing.
Each time, so confusing.
Than there's you.
I need your: pain,
blaring voice
and degrading words.
I need you like The
Cutter needs her razor.
Oxytocin is my drug of choice
and you, the only dealer in town.    
You understand me.  You monster.
I hate you. I'm afraid of you
but I can't leave you alone.
I show up on your doorstep, trembling.
You always welcome me in, smiling.
You show me a touch of mercy
by letting me pull off your whiskey bottle
before calling me a "stupid bitch."    
You drag me by my hair, up the stairs,
kicking and screaming.
I Thank You.
You asked me once if I needed a safe word?
I responded sarcastically,
"Yeah, Safe Word: Harder."
You knocked me to my knees for that.
I Thank You.
I never look you in the eyes.
I'm too scared.
You never take your eyes off me.
I'm still scared.
You understand, unlike other men    
I don't have sex to cum.
I just want to cry.
Anyone can make me cum.
I can make me cum.
You know how to make me cry
and never stop until I do.
Hands around my throat.
Sodomizing me until I'm ashamed.
I scream, "I'm sorry!"
I plead, "I'll be good!"
Safe Word: Harder
I Thank You.
When your cock is hard
you always say,
"My Dirty Little Whore"
and that's how I know
that I'm doing my job.
Finally, when I can't stand it anymore:
the brave face goes,
I lose the battle,
and I'm no longer tough.
The tears, they come.
The only thing that does.
The tears they come.
They fall.
You sigh, you smile
and tell me,
"Now, that's a good girl."
Only then, you stop.
Still watching me.
Tears soaking my face and hair.
I'm shaking, devastated
and so dead/ alive.
That's when you always stop.
When I finally cry, you let up,
if you've finished or not.
I thank you.
You are the only one that does this.
I've never asked
or told you how much I need it.
It's just what you do.
It's why I've never needed    
a "Safe Word"  
and it's why I come back.
Though, every time I leave,
I swear I never will.
Like the husband who tells his wife    
that he promises to leave his mistress.
You understand me. You monster.    
I hate you. I'm afraid of you
but I can't leave you alone.
You help me up.
I put my clothes back on.
You always walk me out and
say, "Have a good day, Little Lady."    
You shut the door
and that bottle of whiskey
behind you, until I knock again.    
So, I go home to a man,
who, won't do what you do to me.    
He touches my face gently,
sizing me up.
He asks if I've been crying
but I tell him to, "fuck off!"
He smiles at this
and kisses me.
I kiss him back. I rarely do.
Today, I do.
He thanks me sweetly
but should Thank You.