Margarita
You’re going to be my floor mat’—that phrase sounds like a sentence to immobility. Trampling here isn’t about chance: every step beats out a rhythm you learn to feel against your skin. You cannot move, cannot argue—you can only accept what is happening and breathe steadily when I allow it. And a golden shower is the other side of the same coin: it’s not about the act itself, but about laying boundaries bare. There is no room for haste here, only absolute honesty between us. And at any moment, a
