Bad Bad Girl

Hearts

When she was younger, she signed her name with a heart at the end of it. It was a part of her signature and somehow part of her personality, the way girls make circles instead of dots over their “i’s” or big dramatic swoops that underline their whole name. Perhaps, it was her own declaration of love and openness. Why she did it is not as important as why she eventually stopped.

It was this knowledge that made him choose this symbol for which to mark her. Cutting her skin and watching the blood drip from her thigh. It was not deep, and would heal, much like the rest of her. However it would be there. This jagged scar that she would see every time she removed her pants or lifted her skirt for another man. Every time someone rested a hand on her thigh, she would know it was there. He was branding her.

“Hold still, little girl,” he said, as he made the point at the bottom and turned his blade back upwards to complete the heart on her tender skin. She trembled and her thighs quivered, but each motion of the blade sent fire through her. It was as if he was letting sex pour from her body, with each controlling stroke of the blade. “Almost done, pet.”

When he finished, he sprayed an antiseptic on her wound which made her scream and start to cry. “You’re mine now.” The pain started to subside and was replaced with trust and openness. She looked up at him, her makeup streaming down her face. Yes, she was his and she allowed him to mark her to prove it.

He put a bandage over the bleeding heart and patted it gently. “Daddy’s here.”

For the MicroFantasy Monday theme, Symbols.

This entry was written by badbadgirlx , posted on Monday November 23 2009at 11:11 am , filed under Erotica and tagged MfM . Bookmark the permalink . Post a comment below or leave a trackback: Trackback URL.