pretty things
the things that make us dream
and pray and sing and dance
this is you
my prettiest thing of all
i shall drape you ’round my neck
or wind you through the tresses of my hair
or smooth you like lotion into my skin
you will be the blush that tints
the sovereign scent
the sun-hued tan
the one true smile line
the pink scar that fades not ever
the birth bruise that stays forever
and i will be a pretty thing
your pretty thing
the pretty thing we made together
I am watching you watching her. You aren’t even aware of me as you press your arm against your crotch, thinking nobody will see. Just a little rub. Ahhh.
But I see.
You waited there at the fountain watching her shop. Waited until she finally bent over to retrieve her dropped sunglasses. The flash of her white panties. That was what you were waiting for.
I wonder how often you do that. Waiting to see if you will get a little peek. A peek at something you can’t have.
Because you’re a pervert. A wreck of a little man that can’t get laid. Aren’t you?
How many pairs have you stolen? I know you have. Your sisters? Your aunts? Perhaps you watched a friend’s house while he vacationed and rummaged though his wife’s hamper? Finding a soiled pair at the bottom, then masturbating as you sniffed the still-moist crotch.
Pathetic little wanker, aren’t you? But I can almost understand. Because that’s about as close as you’ll ever get to pussy, isn’t it?
Well?
So, I’m looking at him.
Handsome, with smile crinkles at the corners of his eyes, like thirty-something men tend to sport. Always makes a man, a confident man, look even sexier. Of course, he knows that. What he doesn’t know is that I am thinking about how long it will take to break him. Because that is what I do, after all. He doesn’t know that yet. But he will.
He’s sent the waitress over with a martini and now sits at the bar awaiting my invitation. A smile in his direction would be his cue to saunter over, then do his little mating ritual. Be charming, sweep this little damsel off her feet, bed her, fuck her. That is how it usually goes for him and so he expects it.
Instead, I push aside the martini and have the waitress bring me what he is drinking. His eyebrow lifts as he watches her place the gibson in front of me. He thinks it flirtatious and cute, his cocked grin says.
I move my chair out a bit, turning towards him. He watches as I open my legs slightly and slide my hand up under the hem of my black dress. The look on his face says that, while this isn’t in his well-worn playbook, he likes it. He likes it a lot.
I let my legs fall open and slide my hand under my panties. I watch him watching me as I begin masturbating. Even from this distance I can see his prick pressing against the fly of his gabardine trousers. I can see his adam’s apple move as he swallows, the slight flair of his nostrils. He thinks he imagines my scent. But it is real, because I want it to be.
I take the gibson and bring it down to my crotch. He watches intently as I glide my fingers out from under my panties and hold them over the drink. Milky dew slips from my fingertips and into the gin and vermouth mixture, causing the two pearl onions to slightly shift.
He is mine. The rules have changed. He knows it. I always knew it. This is a new script and I am the one writing it.
you will kneel for her
breathe her nectar
worship her flesh
crawl to serve
live to serve
die to serve
you are her warrior prince
her captive
her nursemaid
her cocksmith
her whipping post
you will bow to her
her voice is music
her touch is baptism
give her your life
live to give all
die to give all
you are her manservant
her dark star
her touchstone
her birthright
her blessed one
you will cry for her
endure for her always
belong to her only
be everything for her
live to be everything
die to be everything
you are her favored slave
her rocketeer
her manboy
her prerogative
her choice
Drink this.
What is it?
It’s a vitamin drink, silly boy. Don’t you trust me?
Yes, but what’s if for?
It’s good for you. Just drink it and quit arguing.
Are you sure?
Oh, stop being so paranoid, and drink the fucking stuff.
Ok. There. Are you happy now?
Very. Here, let me take the glass and put it in the dishwasher. How are you feeling?
Ok, I guess. Why? What did you put in that drink?
I told you it was just vitamins.
Why is it so cold in here?
That’s just a side effect. It will go away soon.
Side effect? From what? What was in that drink?
Quit worrying about that. Remember when you missed my birthday party because you were out with Brad and Carl?
Yes. I told you I was sorry.
You did. And remember when I asked you to pick up my sister’s books from school when she was sick and you forgot? And she ended up having to retake the test? And almost had to retake the entire semester?
Yes. That was a real fuck-up. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.
Yes, you said so at the time.
I must be losing weight. Look at how loose the waistband of these jeans are. Funny, I didn’t notice it when I put them on.
Never mind that. Remember when you told me you were fishing with your dad and I found out later that you were at Mary Theresa’s party?
Nothing happened. I told you that.
Yes, you did. But you lied. I had lunch with Kelly today and she told me exactly what happened at Mary Theresa’s party.
She’s lying. You know how she is.
She is not lying. You are lying. And you are doing something else, also.
Did you see that? I crossed my leg and my sneaker fell off. What the fuck?
I said you are doing something else. Do you want to know what?
What are you talking about?
You’re shrinking.
Get out of here. You’re crazy.
No, dear. I figured since you were such a small man in the ways that count, you might as well look the part. Look behind you. Your head isn’t even reaching the back of the sofa anymore.
This is crazy. It’s some kind of joke.
No, it’s perfectly real and isn’t going to stop. I gave you a very special vitamin drink.
Ok, then. I just won’t drink any more of that shit.
You will. Because very soon your stomach will cramp. It will cramp bad. The only antidote will be more of the vitamin drink.
Are you fucking crazy?
No, not at all. Here, let me help you down from the couch and we’ll go see the cute little crib I bought for you. Pretty soon you will be sleeping in it.
Hello?
It took you five rings to answer the telephone. Is that acceptable?
No, Mistress. I was getting the mail and forgot to take the extension phone with me. I’m sorry.
I am very busy running a real estate office here, Thomas. I don’t have time for your fuck-ups. Two Rings! The rules are clear.
Yes, Mistress.
Have you had your nut juice popsicle?
Yes, Mistress. Exactly at Noon, just like you said. Thank you.
And did you wear your pink sissy bloomers to the mail box?
Yes, Mistress. I think the paperboy saw me. It was very embarrassing.
And the ironing? Have you finished it yet?
I have two more of your blouses to do and that will be it, Mistress.
So the iron is still plugged in, correct?
Oh, Mistress, please, no.
Get the iron, Thomas. Now.
Yes, Mistress.
Are you ready, Thomas?
Yes, Mistress.
Pull your right testicle out of the right leg of your sissy bloomers.
Ohhhh…
Right now. Do it.
Yes, Mistress.
Now place the bottom of the iron on that testicle, Thomas. Hold it there while I count to three. Don’t dare take it off. And don’t you dare scream.
Yes, Mistress.
One. Two. Three. Are you crying, Thomas?
Yes, Mistress.
Good. Do you think you will answer the phone within two rings the next time I call?
Yes, Mistress. I have learned my lesson. You were right to punish me. I was very stupid and I am so sorry.
Go finish the ironing. And prepare dinner for two this evening. I will be bringing home a guest.
Yes, Mistress.
Ok, I will see you later then.
Mistress?
Yes, what is it?
I love you.
