You pulled my hair, left bite marks and handprints on my skin and left me sore all over, but it was a good kind of pain.

It was the kind of pain you yearn for the second it begins to heal.

Honestly, I didn't mind the markings either, they showed that I was yours and yours alone.

So unlike the markings on my heart, the scars of all the other men who had hurt me, not out of love, not out of pleasure, but out of hatred and malice.

So, know, when I tell you that pulling my hair doesn’t hurt and that I like it when you leave your markings on my skin it is true, because the pain you inflict on me comes from a place of love and that could never hurt me.