She knows what she possesses and dresses to impress.
Yet she is afraid… afraid of the passions she excites in others…
Dirty, disgusting men whose only thoughts are centred on abusing her and taking their pleasure in the use of her.
She can feel their lust for her as she walks, hear their depraved minds salivating over her. She can feel their calloused hands mauling her soft body, pawing at her tender breasts, roughly parting her thighs.
She knows exactly what they want to do to her with their swollen flesh, those thick, hard, unyielding rods that they want to push inside her. They want to tear her apart, fill every hole with their filthy outpourings.
They want to sullie her – everywhere…
Every last one of them…
It’s all they ever want.
She can see it in their eyes, a pale unhealthy gleam. She knows that light well.
She saw it in her father’s eyes the night he came into her bedroom all those years ago… the night he hurt her. She saw it again in her uncle’s eyes when he visited her too. She even saw it in her brother’s eyes when he came as well, to show her how much he loved her.
Love they called it!
Night after night of love, again and again until she lost count!
What do they know of love? What does any man…?
She’d finally returned their love the night she crept into their bedrooms, one by one, climbing into their beds and mounting them as she’d been taught.
“I love you baby…” they’d moaned as she rode them to completion, their sighs turning to screams as she put out their eyes – extinguishing that terrible light with a carving knife.
She silenced them forever by driving the blade up through their jaws to trap their lying tongues and then used it to slice off their invading flesh.
She still had their shrunken members, threaded on a string that she wore around her neck, the withered husks rubbing against her breasts.
A constant reminder of their love…
She turned and entered a dark alleyway, the sound of heavy footsteps following her, as she knew they would.
As they always did.
Her fear peaked and she was once again that little girl, afraid in the dark, not ready yet to become a woman. Her hand closed around the handle of the knife in her bag and the fear fled, replaced by a serene calm.
She stopped, allowing the footsteps to come closer until they halted right behind her.
They think she’s weak, pliant, something to be used and discarded.
But she’s not. She has strength. She has power! The thing that they obsses over between her legs gives her that power!
Power over them…
She felt his hands encircle her small waist, his fingers trembling in their eagerness to claim his prize.
She turned to face him with a beatific smile, her eyes bright with excitement as she gently draped one hand around his neck.
“I’m ready now, father…”
©Steve Richards 2014
Picture sourced from Pinterest