“Turn around, love… yes, just like that. Now look at me. Look up at me… yes, just like that.”
He knelt down with his back turned to me, bare of clothing, his hands bound together at the wrists with cable zip-ties, and his mouth gaping open with a red ball gag. Saliva extended in spiderweb strands from his lips and dripped onto his pale, marblesque shoulders as he turned over them to gaze up at me, his eyes meeting mine. I love the way it sounds when he breathes heavily through his nostrils. I love the way he looks at me when he’s begging for more.
I grab him by the hair–a handful of wavy blonde tangles–and turn his ear to me, cocking his head to the side.
“Would you like some more?”
He closed his eyes and nodded slowly. I examined the scratches and gashes that adorned his otherwise pristine back. He was hairless and flawless, free of any blemishes or markings but the ones I caused–rays of nailmarks that stretched from his broad shoulders to his hips… various bruises that were haphazardly dispersed across his skin… fields of red from the impact of my paddle.
He nodded slowly, and a tiny smirk painted my lips. I pulled his head back further toward me, kissed the leather of the gag that rested upon his cheek, and nuzzled the skin of his face softly. I brushed my cheek against his… my fingertip against his shoulder… my nails against his lesions…
“Good baby,” I whispered in his ear.
I lit a cigarette with his Zippo lighter and sat down in a wicker chair in front of him. He was so handsome, with a short blonde mop and glossed-over blue eyes. His legs were bound together with cheap nylon rope at the ankles, knees, and thighs–nothing fancy or for aesthetic purposes, but they served their purpose. I smiled down at him. My name was written across his chest in permanent marker–”Elise.”
I could tell he wanted to smile back, but he was obviously unable to.
I shoved the heel of my stiletto into his shoulder, digging it into the area between his collar bone and his neck. He screamed behind his gag, but non-verbally, he obliged–he didn’t dare move. My smile stretched into a maniacal grin.
I wish I were seventeen again.
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