Hello, I am twenty eight years old. I live with my wife and I love her.

Every day and night I think of her. I would go through hell and back just to be by her side. I would feel dead inside if she ever left me. I always wait for her to come home when she's at work. I always make sure the house is spick and span when she arrives. I take care of all of the chores, including cleaning and cooking, because I want to make her happy. I'll do anything to make her happy. But even if I do all the work, I do tend to make mistakes.

Let me explain. One day, I was dusting the bookshelf near the couch, and I accidentally knocked a picture down. It broke, with glass scattered at my feet and the picture facing upwards. I remember hearing her loud and fast footsteps as she descended the stairs. It filled my heart with joy to know she would run down the stairs just to check up on me. She saw the picture, and I explained that I knocked it down by accident. I was rewarded so generously with a hard slap to the face, and some loving words said through a loud voice.

Please do not think of this as abuse. These moments where I am disciplined for mistakes I make are really my fault. I assure you, I love it when Jenni hits me, whether it be with a chair, a book, or some other object. I especially love when she hits me with her own hands. Knowing that she would rather hit me on her own than with some random thing around the house gives me such joy. Sometimes, when there is silence, and I am able to sit and feel the pain of all the wounds she inflicted, I am overjoyed, tremendously pleased at the work she has done.

My, I do enjoy when her hits leave a mark. The bruises, cuts, scratches, and other injuries leave my body looking more and more beautiful each passing day. I even have the scar from our first date. That memory is still pleasurable to remember. We had just finished going out to dinner, and I gladly paid for everything, since she forgot her billfold. However, I had made a fool of myself before we left the restaurant. I accidentally pushed a waitress over. I helped her up, grabbing her hand and getting her back up on her feet. Jenni did not like that, however, and as soon as we came home, she choked me. Her hands wrapped so lovingly around my neck that I'm certain the only reason I'm alive today is because my love for her saved me from dying. I still have the black and blue ring of bruises around my neck, and they are gorgeous.

Everyone seems to worry however. My parents call multiple times a day, wondering where I am. Of course, she picks up and explains that I'm working. How nice of her. She answers the phone so often that I don't even remember the last time I talked to my parents. And that's a good thing, too. I hated them with all my being, and I hope Jenni answers the phone for me for years to come. My parents aren't the only ones that worry. My friends, siblings, hell, even my exes seem to worry. But do not worry, friends, I am still here.

People always ask why I don't leave. The reason is very simple: I do not want to. I love Jenni to much to let her go, and I never plan on leaving. In fact, I hope she is reading this because I want her to see how much I care about her.

Letters are very important to me. That's how my wife and I first met. We were pen pals, and sent letters to each other. Our relationship started right when I sent the first letter. Ah, yes, I remember exactly what I put in the first letter. I detailed about how I was great at all types of things like cooking, cleaning, washing dishes, doing laundry, and other such things. She read my first letter, then she sent one back. All of the special moments we had started with the first letter. I'm so glad I sent the first letter.

Even as Jenni and I grow old, we are still inseparable. Each wound feels like a new memory, a new thing to hold dear to me. Every drop of blood was added to my ocean of love for her. And as we get more and more attached, more and more cuts and bruises are added.

And, for all of you wondering, yes, I think the sex is amazing. It's a mixture of pleasure and pain, and it's the best feeling in the entire world. I don't want to get too into detail, but I love how she implements every type of abuse into the bedroom. It spices things up, while also giving both of us what we love.

So, I'm afraid this is the end of my little passion-drived rant. I just wanted to say how much I love my wife. I hope you all will find a partner that loves and cares for me as much as Jenni does. I hope I get abused more and more in the future, but for now I am very content.

Even now, I couldn't be happier.

Dey Don use pata beat this for head o.

Start wearing shirkt because she is the husband.

E go land e go land na him butterfly dey take enter bush... who ever wrote dis should wait until it becomes abuse.. I wish I would be therethe very day when she embarrassed you upfront of your friends with a slap... when you politely asked for her to get you and your friends some drinks in the fridge. U go know say no be play she dey play..

Very bad fiction.
Not impressed

Brainstorm

O ti ya werey, oo kan tiii mo nii

ositadima1:
Hello, I am twenty eight years old. I live with my wife and I love her.

Every day and night I think of her. I would go through hell and back just to be by her side. I would feel dead inside if she ever left me. I always wait for her to come home when she's at work. I always make sure the house is spick and span when she arrives. I take care of all of the chores, including cleaning and cooking, because I want to make her happy. I'll do anything to make her happy. But even if I do all the work, I do tend to make mistakes.

Let me explain. One day, I was dusting the bookshelf near the couch, and I accidentally knocked a picture down. It broke, with glass scattered at my feet and the picture facing upwards. I remember hearing her loud and fast footsteps as she descended the stairs. It filled my heart with joy to know she would run down the stairs just to check up on me. She saw the picture, and I explained that I knocked it down by accident. I was rewarded so generously with a hard slap to the face, and some loving words said through a loud voice.

Please do not think of this as abuse. These moments where I am disciplined for mistakes I make are really my fault. I assure you, I love it when Jenni hits me, whether it be with a chair, a book, or some other object. I especially love when she hits me with her own hands. Knowing that she would rather hit me on her own than with some random thing around the house gives me such joy. Sometimes, when there is silence, and I am able to sit and feel the pain of all the wounds she inflicted, I am overjoyed, tremendously pleased at the work she has done.

My, I do enjoy when her hits leave a mark. The bruises, cuts, scratches, and other injuries leave my body looking more and more beautiful each passing day. I even have the scar from our first date. That memory is still pleasurable to remember. We had just finished going out to dinner, and I gladly paid for everything, since she forgot her billfold. However, I had made a fool of myself before we left the restaurant. I accidentally pushed a waitress over. I helped her up, grabbing her hand and getting her back up on her feet. Jenni did not like that, however, and as soon as we came home, she choked me. Her hands wrapped so lovingly around my neck that I'm certain the only reason I'm alive today is because my love for her saved me from dying. I still have the black and blue ring of bruises around my neck, and they are gorgeous.

Everyone seems to worry however. My parents call multiple times a day, wondering where I am. Of course, she picks up and explains that I'm working. How nice of her. She answers the phone so often that I don't even remember the last time I talked to my parents. And that's a good thing, too. I hated them with all my being, and I hope Jenni answers the phone for me for years to come. My parents aren't the only ones that worry. My friends, siblings, hell, even my exes seem to worry. But do not worry, friends, I am still here.

People always ask why I don't leave. The reason is very simple: I do not want to. I love Jenni to much to let her go, and I never plan on leaving. In fact, I hope she is reading this because I want her to see how much I care about her.

Letters are very important to me. That's how my wife and I first met. We were pen pals, and sent letters to each other. Our relationship started right when I sent the first letter. Ah, yes, I remember exactly what I put in the first letter. I detailed about how I was great at all types of things like cooking, cleaning, washing dishes, doing laundry, and other such things. She read my first letter, then she sent one back. All of the special moments we had started with the first letter. I'm so glad I sent the first letter.

Even as Jenni and I grow old, we are still inseparable. Each wound feels like a new memory, a new thing to hold dear to me. Every drop of blood was added to my ocean of love for her. And as we get more and more attached, more and more cuts and bruises are added.

And, for all of you wondering, yes, I think the sex is amazing. It's a mixture of pleasure and pain, and it's the best feeling in the entire world. I don't want to get too into detail, but I love how she implements every type of abuse into the bedroom. It spices things up, while also giving both of us what we love.

So, I'm afraid this is the end of my little passion-drived rant. I just wanted to say how much I love my wife. I hope you all will find a partner that loves and cares for me as much as Jenni does. I hope I get abused more and more in the future, but for now I am very content.

Even now, I couldn't be happier.

Yaba Left client

This is obviously a sarcastic article on What Women face in mariages and relationships. Cant believe those guys up couldnt spot it

blessedvisky:
This is obviously a sarcastic article on What Women face in mariages and relationships. Cant believe those guys up couldnt spot it

He lives with his wife...

How does that translate into what women face in marriages or you probably read the article upside down?

Ahhhh!!!!

Weyrey re o....

Awon BDSM demon is worrying this one.

Berra bind da devil.

Or, could the writer be sarcastic?