Oh, chill out, stupid! It won’t be that bad as long as you mind your place; I’m pretty sure you can do it, and I wouldn’t trust you with much at all. Luring you here was just a breeze, and actually securing you… I mean, what was that, really? No lie, you flee a captor like a retarded duck, y’know that? It’s just pathetic. I’ve had a tougher time chasing down my Roomba, for fuck’s sake.
Pfft. Okay, I get it. Girl like you, you’ve been seeing me coming your whole life; you’ve just been waiting for a face to finally snap into focus and put an end to the anticipation. It must have felt like gravity pulling you toward the open doors of the van; you barely made a noise when I wrestled you inside, and said even less after I smacked you one across the face. You knew you were done from the start; stupid animals often have amazing instincts to keep them alive.
Like, feel the way your hole is getting wet right now? That’s instinct, too. Don’t be ashamed of it; nothing you can consciously do about it. Some girls are just that way, shaped by life into bespoke vessels for violation. I don’t know why most girls are luckier; maybe it’s just nature’s way of protecting the herd. You’re built to take it, so someone else doesn’t have to.
When you think about it that way, this is all pretty noble of you; you’re like a nervous little offering for the world’s oldest ritual. Which makes me some sort of priest, I suppose. See, this is why I like you despite yourself: you really know how to help a man think. Sure, I’ve been calling you horrible names, hurting you, turning you against yourself, and promising far worse before the night is through, but I want you to know that right now, if only for a moment, I really admire you.
Now take a deep breath and try not to make me hit you too hard.
words copyright © 2016 BedtimeStoriesForBrokenGirls.com)