A churning in my stomach. It had begun.

I saw Him towering, powerful and strong.

He reaked of danger and authority.

Sensing my needs, He strided over.

Pulling me close, He removes my conservative clothing in swift, easy movements…only a g-string remains.

In my astonishment, I fail to notice His hands creep upon my curves, groping.

I feel his warm breath on my forehead and realise my sudden urges. I lean in.

The presence of this being was incredible.

His solid, tanned arms would lift me and caress me as if effortless.

I slide my fingers along the bottom of His shirt, but He would not have it; I was His for the night, He was not mine.

Exploited but callous, I enjoy His embrace.

His hands skulk over every inch of me, discovering who I had become, but in a way no other being had done in my 15 years of glorious life.

I welcome every movement.

In a feat of ecstasy I wail and sweat, all the while hearing His husky voice tell me I am inferior and do not deserve such treatment, let alone from Him.

I am an instrument. A toy for His amusement.

I am His toolbox, a young and supple toolbox – upon which He lays His tool when He desires, only to throw me in a corner when I am not in use.

A seemingly unwilling being for such an eager young woman would normally be considered unjust, and would make me somewhat of a “booty call”.

Yet I am reviled.

I take this opportunity with my hands and embrace it with all my soul. I will be adored in return…just not yet.



Joined November 2008

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