#slwc

She speaks softly, with a slight smile on her lips. Her hair is a bit messy, but it only makes her more irresistible. The shoulder spica cast hugs her from her chest to her upper arm, bold and rigid. She slowly lifts her casted leg toward you, showing off the worn, scuffed heel of her walking cast—dusty, a little scratched, every mark telling a silent story.

“Look at this… see how worn down the heel is?”

She leans in slightly, raising her casted foot playfully toward you.

“I’ve been walking in this for days. I can hear it with every step—tapping, slipping slightly on the floor. It’s become a part of me.”

She pauses, locking her eyes with yours. Deep. Unblinking.

“You like watching me, don’t you? The way I wear it. The way it slowly gets dirtier, more used… I show it to you because I know you care. Every worn mark on it… is for you.”

She licks her lips, trailing her free hand slowly along her thigh.

“This cast doesn’t just hold me… it holds you, too. Doesn’t it?”

She turns slightly, revealing more of her shoulder cast, as if she wants you to take in every curve, every edge of the rigid fiberglass.

“Sometimes it’s tight… sometimes it itches… and it’s so heavy. But I kind of love it. Maybe because I know how much it turns you on.”

She smiles again, her voice dropping into a whisper.