tigersaint

the eighteenth night:

"Give me chastity and continence, but not yet.

Saint Augustine
--Confessions"

i have written this in my best red paint across my chest. i undress, lay down on his bed and wait for him to come home.

i keep my eyes closed as i hear him approach me, and i smile when i hear his laughter at reading my chest.

he kisses...
Read More

the seventeenth night:

i am having a dream.

in the dream, i am laying on a bed. the blankets on the bed are dirty with cum and blood and spit. they are dark, soft, thin, flimsy. the pillows have been thrown to the floor and the shades are drawn.

the walls are very high and they too are dark, a dark brown-red, like dried menstrual...
Read More

the sixteenth night:

he sits at his writing desk with a glass of scotch and a fever in his head. he is writing the pages furiously while i sit next to him on the floor, a saucer next to me. he has filled it with my favorite whiskey.

every so often he absent-mindedly strokes my hair or slides his finger into my mouth to play...
Read More

the fifteenth night:

tonight i am sore. i have bruises on my wrists, ankles, hips and inner thighs.

my knees are burned and my throat is raw from begging, screaming and moaning his name.

tonight, he bathes me in a tub of hot water, with a soft wash cloth and my favorite almond scented soap. he scratches head and lathers my hair until i am...
Read More

the fourteenth night:

when we meet he immediately undresses me and sets me on all fours. he circles my neck with a collar and attaches a leash. he walks me around his apt like that, he pulls the leash tight to lead me. he tells me he wants me to only approach him on my knees when i am there. he sets a saucer of...
Read More

the thirteenth night:

i did a bad thing: i stole a piece of his clothing. his boxers.

i stole a pair from his laundry so that they smelled like him.

when i got home i pulled them from my bag shyly. first i pressed the thin cotton to my cheek. i slid my hands inside, i looked to see how thin and soft they were...
Read More

the twelfth night:

there is rain outside tonight, but now i suppose there will always be rain outside.

the desire for him now is like a hunger. i feel empty, i want him inside me. my skin is cold, i want him covering me. my mouth waters thinking of tasting him. i think up crazy schemes to get him to agree to take me.

i...
Read More

the eleventh night:

there are wet sidewalks and red lights reflected off my glasses. i feel the rain soaking me through, on my rib cage and in rivulets down between my breasts. i stand in the doorway and smoke a cigarette, i imagine him undressing me there, licking the rain water off me, off my cold and shivering skn. i imagine walking through puddles just...
Read More

the tenth night:

as i crossed the country the highways spilled out before me like sumi ink on rice paper. i imagined him dipping my brush in the ink, soaking it to full, letting the black drops fall across my chest, my throat, my stomach, creating highways along my skin. i imagined him laying me on a table, eyes covered, feeling the brush slide along...
Read More

the ninth night:

i have packed up all my things, i will drive into the setting sun. i look forward to the new shadows on my wall, and i look forward to find out how my moaning echos off a new ceiling. i won't be gone for long, but when i return i will have thought of new ways to bend and twist for him,...
Read More