Butterfly 1.

Pinned to the wall by Him.

By the eyes. His eyes. They stare at me. He doesn’t blink. He examines my face. Takes in every detail. Sees me, giving him all. All of me. All His. Not only because he says so…but because i made the choice. To come here, to become His.

He owns me.

And he takes care of what he owns. Nurtures it. Plays with it. Hurts it. Whatever pleases him.And right now, i please him.

I can see it. In those eyes that have pinned me here. A slutty butterfly, pegged out and waiting to be stroked.

With his hand.

With his mouth.

With his belt.

I yearn for him. And he knows. He knows my head. He knows my heart. He knows my need. He’s fed it well. All these weeks of waiting, talking, teasing. All the days of imagination, of self play, of self pity. All the hours i’ve prepared.

For this.

Eyes locked together. He smiles as his hand cups my breast. Smiles as i wince under the pincer grasp of his fingers as he squeezes hard and harder, seeking my nipple, seeking my acceptance.

The exit light is off. There is no turning back.

I am his slut.

I am his toy.

I am.

For Him.

3 thoughts on “Butterfly 1.

  1. OH, ALA, nilla hopes you aren’t too melancholy….wistful, that’s okay, but nilla doesn’t want to make you sad.

    Glad you liked the writing, now, smile!! Puleeze?



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