u/Alexander_Publis

I want you to scream in my face so loudly that my ears hurt. At a pitch that vibrates my skull and feels like countless needles digging into my brain. I want you to shout out your defiance, to spit and scratch, venomous words flying from your forked tongue. Show me that unbridled passion as you beat your fists against my chest and stamp your feet in an embarrassing display of a tantrum.

It makes it all that much more satisfying when you're finally bent over the kitchen counter, mindlessly cumming on my cock.

I know your triggers, by now. The words and phrases that will start to turn the screw, that are the first sparks that light the flame that I will feed throughout the evening. Sly looks, small smirks, patronising tone. You'll never admit just how angry it makes you when I talk down to you, like you're an imbecile. You'll never admit how wet it makes you.

Certainly not to your boyfriend.

You'll grit your teeth when I tell you to get another beer for everyone. Supress a hiss when I drop something on the floor for you to pick up. Try and stifle a fluttering sigh when I corner you against a wall, murmuring that the dress you're wearing makes you look like a whore. Never mind that I picked it out for you, to wear tonight. Never mind that you told me to fuck off, only to put it on a moment later. That just makes it that much more infuriating.

I tell you to stay behind, to help clear up. Your boyfriend doesn't seem to mind. You mind that he doesn't mind. You mind that you stay. You mind that you kiss him on the cheek as he leaves, knowing that your lips will soon be wrapped around my shaft as you cough and splutter and curse with your mouth full.

As soon as everyone else has left, you'll release the fury that has been building up inside you. You'll scream in my face so loudly that my ears will hurt. You'll shout and spit and scratch. And you'll cum, over and over, each climax ripped from your body and held over you like a trophy, as proof that all you've ever wanted to be is a slut, a whore, a piece of fuckmeat needing to be filled and used and broken.

But that comes later. For now, you have a whole evening to endure.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A healthy relationship was never your forte. Let's discuss.

You dug the pen into your skin more firmly, but it still just felt like a light scratch. Not enough. Not enough for the words that you were displaying on your skin.

You got your first tattoo when you were eighteen. It hadn't been a difficult decision. You had always considered your body a work of art, and what was art if not a constant embellishment, a constant striving for perfection? You had closed your eyes and embraced the pain of that very first deep drag of the tattoo gun, marking out in thin black lines a creative expression that had previously only existed in your mind. Inside yourself.

It was addictive. The first tattoo was followed by a second, and a third. Varying in design, size, colour, pain. And you flaunted them. You wanted everyone to see them. Because each new marking was an expression of your soul, allowed others a deeper understanding of who you were. They bulldozed over subtext and insinuation, left you bare, exposed. Proud.

You pressed the nib harder, a small pin-prick of pain as you finished the final letter across your chest.

'Cum dump'.

The letters were uneven. You weren't used to writing on yourself, looking down and trying to make sure that you didn't form any symbol backwards. Those two words seemed to pulse against your skin, a branding as immediate and as obvious those placed on cattle. Livestock.

'Cum dump'.

It's what you were. A cum dump. Nothing but a silly, dumb, cum dump. You breathed in deeply, fingers tracing lightly over those temporary marks. Just another way of exposing yourself. Of revealing yourself. Just another expression of your soul.

You glanced up at him, eyes fluttering, heart pounding, mouth dry. He took the pen from your limp fingers and pushed the end past your lips for you to suck on.

'Cum dump.' He murmured.

You found yourself nodding your head. Cum dump. That's what you were. What you could only ever be. And it was becoming that much more difficult to hide.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You want to be branded. Let's discuss.