i tried something a lil bit differnt this time LOL. got inspired by Moments of love by Alura Labeztieh xcept darker, please read n tell me if u like it, if not i'll just stop bein so emo hahaha.
betad by shaniqua (shes amazing, u sure no how to bring the tuff love bb!!!), all mistakes are mine. =P
^%^
She is tall, black, fiendish, her shadow looming, menacing, towering over me like the Eiffle Tower (if It was black, and spikey, and menacing) as I cower on the floor shaking, and feel smaller than I ever thought I could feel. She says something, but I don't hear the words, instead I focus, on her toes, cruel and pointy in their stilletto boots the dusty tips just poking out of her blood-caked robes. Trembling in fear, the bile rises up in my throat.
She is about to do something Terrible unspeakable horror to me and I, a frozen up ice statue, can not stop it.
But, it turns out that, Ice Statues can feel after all. It hurts so much when the ropes bind me up tight, digging into my skin and cutting harshly and cruelly at delicate places: wrist, ankle, under-knee, groin-crease, stomach, chest, under-breast, neck – no, luckily no, my neck is free and I can breath.
I can still feel the blood dripping down my dusty skin though; to move, is agony and she hasn't even touched me There yet. The ice statue feels her wicked foul-smelling laugh and focuses on its fetid, garlicky, stale-fish-that-has-been-left-in-the-gutter-for-too-long, gravemould, desecrated smell instead of the feeling.
The feeling of her fingers pressing into my most forbidden place, the one I was saving for my one true Love, ripping apart me at my vary seams. My hymen bursts sickeningly. The feeling of that evil pointy boot-tip being shoved in next to it, kicking brusing ripping, too much to hold, I can hear the skin tearing and feel the rivers of blood that pour forth from my wounded soul.
their is to much of hers inside me now, literally; and fugitively; mabye she will empty out my glisening entrails and bloody soup and makeme into her sok-puppet plaything Hollow and filled wit pain n darkness bc that is what She is...
Worse still is the uncalled for orgasm that suddenly rockets through my spine into the pool of my cunt leaving only clouds of choking burning smoke in its wake.
But, even worse than that, is the knowledge that I will never forget this as long as I live, that her taint, her stench, her claws and scars and marks, will always remain just under my skin, for she touched me first. Unbearable pain as fiendish teeth ripping shreds into my soul, my ego, my life force, my self and all that I have been, just as her fiendish fingers and toes split me open.
Some wounds can be healed with the flick of a wand, some can never be healed only buried deeper and deeper until no one, , would ever know.
So are my own war wounds.
I will never speak of this.
Ever.