#mean mode

I'm sure you've seen posts like these. that tell you to do some deep breathing, or get some water. I'm not going to do that. I don't care all that much. I'm sure you can take care of yourself.

I'm going to hurt you. because I want to. and, not that it matters that much, but you want me to, don't you? it's been too long.

look at your hands. they're mine now. isn't that fun? I can say whatever I want, and you'll believe me. it's a type of power a girl can get drunk on. no, I'm sure you wouldn't understand. just do what you're told, okay? you'll be fine. maybe.

look at them. don't they seem colder, harsher, now that they're mine? maybe they're trembling a little, so eager to hurt you. they're going to grab you, now, slip under your shirt and claw at what's underneath.

why don't you picture me, above you, shrouded in the dark, while you do that. feel my hands sliding up your shirt, feel yourself shiver. it's addicting, that first bit of violation, that first moment where I claim some chunk of your body as my own, and you can't do anything about it, can you?

you look so feeble underneath me. soft. breakable. you know I'm stronger than you, right? and you're already pinned. does that scare you? I could do anything. I could break you, right here. my nails should be digging into your sides, now, dragging down until you gasp. I'm studying your face. the little twitches and sighs and such. so pretty for such a useless thing.

maybe you'd be whining, by now. so fucking desperate. how long has it been, really? I'm sure it's hard, when you shy away and stammer from all the women you want to hurt you. it's very easy, for me. I'm sure I'll have a dozen others just like you lining up for me soon enough.

does that make you sad? why don't you make yourself a little more interesting? c'mon, lift your shirt. there you go. you don't mind if I take pictures, do you? don't answer. I don't care. here, I'll take one that's just your tits. that's one I can keep in my wallet, you know, or stick on a corkboard somewhere. and now I'll take one that has your face in it, all flustered. for blackmail.

I think you've waited long enough. it's always a joy to hurt a pretty little thing's tits. I think I'll start with some rough groping, really getting my nails in there. you should grope yourself harder than that. then harder still. there you go. can't you feel it? you'd never do this to yourself, would you? not this harsh, not this cruel. you can feel my touch in your fingers, can't you? good. I'm glad.

god, by now you'd be covered in hickies. maybe I'd promise to keep them below your neckline. I'd spend a good while on your tits, some nice red and purple for you to wear. but then I'd do your collarbone, and start climbing higher. maybe you'd protest, but it'd all get garbled when you feel my mouth on your neck, wouldn't it? all those silly little thoughts too fuzzy to hold on to.

I think I'd be seeing what noises I can draw out of you, now. maybe I'd suck some deep bruise into one of your tits, then sink the nail of my thumb into it until you begged and cried for me to stop, and still I'd linger for just a moment after that. maybe I'd kiss and bite and suck just under your ear while I capture your nipple between my fingers and twist just until I start feeling you tremble underneath me. oh, but you've been trembling all this time, haven't you? I suppose I'd just have to keep twisting, then. how unfortunate.

I think I'd get bored, by now. maybe I'd pull you up by a hand clenched in your hair. christ, but you look pretty all marked up like this. maybe I'll take a few more pictures, just for fun. you look prettier like this than before, after all. maybe I'd make you hold your tits aloft for me, make them look all fat and tender and bruised for the picture. and so much more compelling for the blackmail, isn't it? it's worse if you liked it. and by god, you did, didn't you?