Love letters written in the skin

Can you fall in love with the pain? Will the hands of another be the only love you’ve ever known? When you feel the first strike on your flesh, you will know the addiction has consumed what is left of your soul. Yes!

I didn’t mean to become a junkie. There was no way that I could foresee this life for me. So young, so tender, and so na├»ve. The moment he said hello, my pulse raced with fear. Not of him, but of myself. I was scared of the itch that raked across my flesh like the crawling insects that only one who is addicted will feel. There is no peace when the body craves the impact of another.

I knew the moment I looked into his eyes I was being fed by the Devil himself. I could have looked away, but the attraction was too strong. I have never in my life felt so doomed, yet so alive at the same time. This man, this monster, he knew what he was doing to me. I feel as though he could smell the fear on me the moment our eyes locked. I’ve heard that there is a soul mate for everyone, and he was designed for mine. I know that he will end me one day, but until then, I will thrive with each mark to the blank canvas. My body will soon be your greatest piece of art. Hung on the walls of your personal gallery.

The first time I realized that I was to reborn was the night he asked me to his home after a late-night dinner. Nothing uncommon there, but what struck me as different was he gave me a warning before I entered his home. Not so much a warning, but a threat to my sanity. He told me that if I follow him inside, I agree with everything that happens to me. I didn’t quite understand that at first, but quickly I learned that I had entered the lair of the Devil himself. He had the face of an angel, but there was nothing Angelic about him.

The house was immaculate. One of these model homes that you only see in magazines. She doubted the furnishings had ever been sat on. There was even a scent of new leather that lingered in the room. How come I doubted this was just delivered? What would he think of my own home? I was a good housekeeper, but the place definitely looked lived in. Dirty dishes in the sink, a towel on the bathroom floor, and even a few articles of clothing tossed over a chair in the corner of her room. Would he think I was too messy for him? Some would, but I put my time and effort into other things. My work. I am an escort and spent most of my time traveling. That was a detail I left out for one good reason. Most men couldn’t understand that it was a job, not something that was for my pleasure.

His hand motioned to the table, pointing to a small box that rested on the almost see-thru coffee table. It was beautiful, but I could see the danger of owning one like that. A drunken night could end me up in the emergency room. At first, I was confused as to why he purchased a gift for me. We had just met, and how did he know I would return to his place tonight? Maybe he just assumed I would, but still. Why did he buy me a gift? My mind raced with a million different questions, and all of them would go ignored for the truth.

Slowly advancing to the package, I wrapped my slender digits around the velvet box curious as to the contents. Why was my handshaking? Why did he seem to confuse me so much? His lack of words frightened me a little. I’m not used to men who don’t speak what’s on their mind. Pulling the perfect white ribbon that formed a bow, the anticipation had my stomach in knots. With a lift of the lid, I was more confused than I ever had been in the past. Inside this satin-lined box was a simple choker necklace. Well, that’s what I assumed it was. I’m sure he could see the confusion on my face. Why?

The delicate necklace or choker had a tiny trinket on the front. Someone would need to be close to read the small letters. In an instant, I knew what he was. What he wanted from me. Placed in the most delicate letters the necklace read, “Private Property.” What the hell did that mean? Whoever wore it was owned? Not to be touched by another? Did he want this for me? My knees almost to the point of buckling, not a word could be formed between my beautiful crimson lips.

From the box to his eyes, my own traveled slowly making sure to take in everything. It gave me another moment to think about what the man wanted from me. Somewhere in my wildest fantasy, I had played this moment in her mind but never thought I would find the man who could take me to the level she craved.

“Turn around, lift your hair, and watch yourself in the mirror,” his voice filled with what she could only describe as anger.

He took the box, lifting the bobble from the velvet tray that held it in place. His eyes on the mirror to watch my own, I felt this moment was the last that I could stop it from happening. His muscular hands stretch around my slender neck, the light catching the small charm in the middle. “Will you allow it?” he asked me, never diverting his eyes from my own. Before he closed the clasp, he expected me to answer him. I won’t lie, I should have run at that moment, but my feet stuck to the floor by an unknown force.

“Yes,” dropping my lids, the deed was done, the clasp locked and my life over as I knew it.

To be continued..

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s