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I have a bag of old clothes that are a little too messed up (with paint, with bleach, etc) to donate. 

They’re kind of begging for a certain form of special treatment.

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He held so firmly onto my hair while he was fucking me that, when he finished, the imprint of his grip was actually in my hair. 

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Sometimes, when he pulls her hair, he isn’t violent about it.

It’s a reminder.

It says, “I’m here.”