Auburn Bambi

She walks like her body’s remembering something it shouldn’t—hips just a little too heavy, breath just a little too shallow. Her eyes are soft, unsure, glazed with a permanent blush of heat. Say her name and she flinches. Compliment her and she forgets how to speak. But watch closely—watch the way her thighs press, the way her fingers twitch near the hem of her dress—and you’ll understand: PainBambi isn’t just shy. She’s constantly aroused. Her pain hums just beneath the surface, and with the right word, the right look, the right trigger… she melts.