Play With Me

by Emily Klepp

She will let anyone with a dick fuck her. She has fucked everyone from my dad to her cousin.

Well, let’s just say he would let a raccoon chew on his dick if he thought it might get him off.

For crimes involving children or sexual assault, I like to chop their dick and balls off with my cleaver while they are alive. It’s my way of getting their victims and survivors justice.

I pull out my cock and shame myself as I start fucking my hand. I imagine the voice closer and under me, but she’s not in pain… no, she loves the way I destroy her. She loves the way I break her to pieces before putting her back together. Each time I stroke across the barbells in my cock, my body jerks. I pump faster, desperate to come for her. I want to come for her, my mystery woman whose screams are echoing in my mind. I don’t know who she is or how someone I don’t know has this effect on me, but I will find her and learn how to break my little butterfly.

Do you know what it’s like to be in so much pain that you wanna die? Do you know what it’s like to be so fucking numb that you wish that somebody would take you out?

“I hope you two have the life that you deserve.”

“You can accept living in Hell without letting it consume you,”

“I’d like to think the dark humor is healing,”

”I am interested in making you feel something other than pain, but not while you’re hurting,“

Who knew being used could be so much fun.

I should start calling him the magical masked finger man, because Lord have mercy is he amazing with his hands.

“Being alive is exhausting,”

No one is perfect but she is perfect for me and I for her. That I am sure of.

Once I reignite the passion in her soul, I will be her God, her world, and her reason for breathing.

“That’s it, Butterfly, take it all like a good girl.”

I want you to fuck me like you hate me. Please. I want it hard and mean.”

“After we get revenge, no more killing. No more torture, unless it’s torturing me with forced orgasms,”

George R.R. Martin once wrote “people learn to love their chains,” and that could not be any more accurate. Sometimes the abuse you endure becomes all you know, and you find solace in normalcy.

I will make the rivers run red with the blood of anyone who dares hurt my butterfly.

Suddenly her behavior made sense. She is overly apologetic for things that aren’t her fault. I thought it was just who she was but it’s trauma.

Yep

“You could dry up Niagara Falls with that chode.”

“No safe word. No way out. If I catch you… I’ll make it hurt,” I say with a threatening tone. She swallows hard and nods, likely speechless. “Go on my sweet prey. Let me hunt you.”