June 14th, 7am.
Ow. Even wearing a shirt stings. Never mind getting in the shower this morning and putting soap and hot water on it. And this is after she's numbed the pain with a charm. Christ.
I mean...Dieu, it's sexy. That I can make her lose control like that, that I can drive her to that. It's sexy that I can trust her enough to let her hurt me. I know she's not doing it out of spite, I know she would never do it out of spite, and the pain sets everything that little more on edge, makes me want everything a little more. They call it le petit mort for a reason.
Shame I can never actually tell her I love it so much, because she'll think I'm some kind of masochistic freak who wants whips and handcuffs and....wow, that image was distracting.
I think about sex far too much. Anyway, two days left. Teaching ahoy, no matter how much my back hurts.
You're all going. I think I'm going to cry. Who am I going to rant to now about why there's never a turning point in history (incidentally, it's because history is a process and not an event), why the Goblins in 1617 were idiots for a change, why revolution is an alien concept in this little Kingdom of yours and why the Magical Government of 1924 collapsed? WHO?
I'm going to spend a summer boring people to tears, I can tell. Nothing new there, except I'm not getting paid for that. Hmph. Sulking time.