Childhood

I don’t remember much from my childhood,
I don’t even know what my first memories were.

But I remember small things.
Like the movement of my momma’s hands while she cooks.
Like the paper airplanes my father made.
Like the vanilla wafer and cheese snacks my parents gave me.
Like the moment my father taught me how to snap my fingers and the moment he taught me how to whistle.
Like the phrase, “It has to be perfect.”
Like the taste of leftover cake mix on an empty bowl.
Like the feeling of fresh grass and concrete on my toes.
Like the nights sleeping in my momma’s bed when father would get off late.
Like the feeling of scrapping my knees on the neighbor’s steps.

I remember big things too.
Like the punishments my parents and relatives would give me. 
Like the fantasies about running away from my family and never seeing them again.
Like the envy I had for my momma’s effortless beauty.
Like the cruel, cruel treatment of other students. 
Like the early, unwanted sexual experiences before the age of nine.
Like the feeling of a blade against my thighs skin.
Like the pain of fresh cuts against jeans.
Like the first day I started taking medicine. 
Like the nights where I would talk, cry, and beg to the moon because it was my own comfort and the only thing that would listen.

My childhood is a blur and I wish I could remember it,
But, I guess, it is a good thing that I don’t. 

The moment my dad told me he didn’t love me

The moment my dad told me he didn’t love me

Wasn’t very shocking.

It was disturbing, 

But also confirming.

Days before this happened,

I already had thoughts about how my dad didn’t love me or show me much affection and attention as a child.

He didn’t show up to any of my concerts,

He always backed out of taking me somewhere,

And he even showed up after my high school graduation.

It was bad to the point my teachers thought my mom was a single mom. 

There were good moments and memories,

But he still wasn’t really there. 

The moment my dad told me he didn’t love me

I couldn’t focus on his comments for too long.

I had to clean up my apartment,

Take care of my kittens,

Prepare dinner,

And go to work.

“That’s what grown people do.”

Mind you, 

I’m not even in my twenties. 

My dad prioritized his job before he would prioritize his wife and daughter.

My dad would make sexist remarks and told me I would never marry because I’m not submissive.

Mind you,

I am very submissive and motherly to the men I am dealing with. 

But I am not going to be submissive to my dad.

My dad never saw me as his equal

Or his daughter.

So the moment my dad told me he didn’t love me

Was an weird moment,

But comforting.

Sweet Treat

Today, I decided to try making sugar cookies.
I’ve never made them before,
But I was craving the taste.

The first bite felt surreal.
I felt like I was in a dream, 
A familiar dream.

The second bite felt refreshing.
I was transported back to that familiar dream,
With my beautiful husband and my sweet baby.

The third bite felt loving. 
My husband’s lips were on my neck
While my devilish baby played with strands of my hair.

The fourth bite felt orgasmic.
My husband’s hunger and my baby’s beauty overwhelmed me.
I felt whole again. 

The final bite felt mournful
I knew I would have to say goodbye,
So I gave my husband and my baby a heartfelt kiss.

As the sweet treat fades from my deprived tongue, 
I realize I am 
Once again 
Alone.
And it was once again, 
A near dream of a distant reality.

The Woman

As a child, 

I would prefer to spend a lot of time alone.

My parents thought it was quiet odd 

And would often check on me.

Unknown to them,

I was never alone.


The woman in the corner would be there,

Watching.

It scared me at first,

But over time,

I began to accept her presence.

She would stroke my hair

While I was asleep.

She would wipe my tears 

While I cried about a worthless boy.

She would listen to my pleas 

While I cried and begged for death.


She was there

During my loneliest moments

In youth. 

And she’s here

During my proudest moments

In adulthood.

Honey

Baby, you are mine.

Your soft tongue slowly traces my honey covered lips. 

My body curves and twists to fit perfectly into yours. 

The honey turns into blood as your sharp teeth bite deeply into my lips, 

Causing the lips between my thighs to heated up

And squeeze together. 

You let out a small grunt and soon your blood begins to pool in your mouth as I pierce you with my knife.

My excitement increases as the pool of blood overfills and flows into my mouth. 

You begin to fight back, but you are fixed into my arms. 

“Please, no.” 

Your begging begins to lead me to climax as your body becomes weaker by the second.

The thought of taking and inhaling your life, your soul into mine is arousing.

Your spirit is exiting your body and I prepare to take it 

And entangle it with mine.

You are mine, my dear.

You are mine in every single way and beyond this world,

You will continue to be mine. 

Closure

I just wanted answers.

I wanted to know why you would cause a soft being like myself

So much internal pain and heartbreak.

When you arrived,

You just couldn’t give me the answers I wanted.

“It was a mistake.”
“You are a beautiful and amazing woman.”
“You deserve better.”
“I told you I didn’t want anything serious.”

Only the same, lame, excuses men always give 

When they fuck up and don’t want to be accountable.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

I wanted to hurt you the same way you hurt me. 

After a struggle and a few punctures,

You were on the ground, slowly bleeding out. 

Your beautiful blue eyes were now bloodshot and filled with fear.

I couldn’t help, but to caress your face.

You flinched at my touch,

Which turned me on. 

A sinister smile creeps onto my face as I grip your face,

Making eye contact. 

I turn your head to reveal a small slit on your neck made during the fight for dominance. 

I admire the cut as I continue to get aroused by your weakness and you continue to be fearful of my next moves.

Without thinking, I lean forward and I can feel your body clench beneath mine.

I tap my tongue on the cut before putting it fully on. 

My tongue swirls around the spot before I begin sucking. 

I notice your heart is beginning to beat faster and you are no longer clenching.

I never had this craving before and I can’t help, but to continue sucking

As this is the ultimate pleasure. 

Once I am fulfilled, I removed myself from the slit and observed him.

He laid there, looking as lifeless, pathetic and useless as ever.

He was dead

And I finally got the closure I was yearning for. 

Homecoming

They always come back.

It’s not something new to me.

I stare at you, with love or with hate in my eyes,

As you beg for me.

You beg like a child in need of their mother

And it admiring,

Almost arousing for me. 

I love when they return and beg for me back.

It make me feel like a king on their throne,

Overlooking all the peasants below them. 

I pull your sorrowful face that is soaked with tears and snot 

Up towards mine. 

You look so disgustingly pitiful this way and I love it.

“What are you sorry for, sweetie?”

You tried to lower your head in shame, but I grab your chin hard and pull it back up.

“What are you sorry for?” I spit out at him.

“I’m sorry for,” you begin as tear continue to fall down your face.

“I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m really sorry.”
I drop your chin from my hands as I continue to look at you with disgust.

They always come back to apologize, to beg for a second chance.

They always do

And it feels so godly. 

Renewal

I can’t stop crying. I just can’t. My tears run down my face like a cool, spring stream. They collect and dry on my pillows. I feel my being beg my heart to stop beating, to cease the everlasting sorrow within my soul.

Bottles upon bottles are filled with my tears and crescent moons form and leak blood within my palms. My brain will soon erupt as it can’t handle this much distress.

Slowly, My eyes grow sore and empty. My muscles are weak and beg for relief. My head begins to pound rapidly. My will to live is depleted.

My brain uses the little power it possess to turn my attention to my appearance in the mirror. My face is cover with wet streaks of make-up that is beginning to dry. My hair is dull and lifeless. My clothing is covered with dried blood, my dried blood. My hands are numb and blood still drips from them.

Despite this, I can’t help, but to smile. My tired face is able to pull my lips into a big, joyous smile. I have lost every sense in my being and I have been dehumanized. But I love it. I feel like I have been reborn and renewed into something better, something more terrifying and disturbed. I can’t help but to love every bit of it and what’s to come. 

Girlie

He watches as the water rinses away the soap from my tan body. The soap slides along my curves and down to the shower tiles. I met him two months ago and I’m already sickly obsessed with him. He tugs at the dark tie wrapped around his neck as I continue the erotic show through the glass shower.

“Girlie. My girlie,” he moans, pulling the tie off and unbuttoning his shirt. This is our last night together before he goes back to Italy. We wanted to make it memorable. 

I press my round, bare ass on the glass and sway it back and forth, teasing him. I could hear him getting up from his seat and approaching the mirror. A smile grows across my face. He pulls open the shower door, pulling me out of the steam of water and into his muscular arms. I kiss every bit of his pale chest, getting lower as I do so. Before I could unbutton his pants, he takes my chin into his hand and pulls me up off my knees. 

Then, he looks at me, stares at me. The expression is unrecognizable to me. It’s a look he has never given to me before. His big, dark eyes are set on mine and I can’t detect what is going through his mind. I don’t know if I should feel aroused or scared, but I can’t help but to feel aroused. 

“Baby, why are you looking at me like that?” I ask, but he says nothing in return and just pulls my damp body into his clean suit to pursue a thirsty, lustful kiss. Our tongues swirl together as I attempt to be closer to him. My lower region is starting to swell as his fingers crawl down my spine.

As the kiss breaks, the feeling of a thousand needles poking my back arises. I chuckle as my body grows weak and I fall into the man’s arms. He just stabbed me in the back and he’s about to do it again. We make eye contact again as he pulls the knife out of my back for the second time. My body begins to become overwhelmed and begins to shut down, but I can’t help but to be at complete bliss. I’m dying by the hands of a foreign man from a foreign country. I couldn’t ask for a better, more erotic death. I can feel an orgasm rising within my weakened body and I know it is the last thing my body will ever do.

The last thing I hear him say, before my demise, is,

“Girlie.” 

It wasn’t planned

I’m sorry for the lack of posting! I’ve had final with University and had to keep on track with that. I hope you guys enjoy this short story and I will post more this week. – The Paramour

I didn’t mean to. I just wanted you all to myself. The second you entered me was the second I knew you were meant to be mine. You felt so right within me. My legs wrapped perfectly around your waist as you pushed into my small center. I didn’t want you to leave me. Ever. I didn’t want to cause you any pain. Ever. I know you hate pain, but I just couldn’t let you be with anyone else. I watched as you reached your climax and as I reached for the knife. Within seconds, the knife was struggling to penetrate your back. Your muscles spasmed and you tried to push me away at the second or third stab, but it was to no advantage. You fall onto your open wounds and whine like a child in pain. 

My poor baby, 

My poor, poor, baby.

Don’t worry or whine, it will be ok.

You’re safe 

with me now.