He crossed the T. Popping the cap back on the pen, he admired his handiwork. The word was scrawled across the topside of her breast, and he could see the ink diffusing through her pores, so that the crispnes of each letter was stolen by her skin. He caught the back of his lip with his teeth and plucked at it.
“Pretty.” He all but grunted the word, to himself, but it broke the spell she’d been under, her attention suddenly back with his face, rather than his hand.
“Hmm?” She was smiling, bemused but content.
She looked down at the word. She frowned and smiled some more.
“Since when was hte word ‘slut’ a pretty one?”
He arched an eyebrow.
“Since it was on you. Don’t you like it?” He was mocking her, but even still she couldn’t help but blush, looking down at the way it marked her, marred her skin as if it was an accusation rather than a declaration. Either way, the idea of it sitting there on her chest, emblazoned for all the world to see if she didn’t cover it up was equal parts terrifying and exciting.
“I do.. it’s just..” She shrugged. “It’s embarrassing.”
He reached over, taking her chin in his hand so that she had no choice but to look him in the face.
“No, it’s not. It’s not embarrassing because no one but you and me are going to see it. It’s not there to make you fret and squirm, to think about all the times someone could just reach over and pull down your shirt, rip away your bra and see what you have written there, someone else’s hand, and someone else’s word.”
He paused, running his tongue between his teeth, narrowing his eyes at her.
“It’s not meant to unsettle you, pretty girl. Quite the opposite. I want you to take a moment, whenever you feel stranded or alone, and pop into the bathrooms. I want you to pull down your shirt and see that word there, and I want you to feel my control over you, unbroken despite the distance between us, or the time since we last spoke. I want it to center you, and let you continue your day with a smile on your lips and a wiggle in your step.”
She chewed her lip for a moment, looking from his face down to her chest, then back up to his face again. She struggled to read it upside down, and the letters looked meaningless, her brain not quite wanting to decipher the lettering. Perhaps it was in denial.
But when she thought about what he said, and the way he had put it, they suddenly coalesced into meaning.
Only it wasn’t ‘Slut’ she saw there, that was just a phrase on the periphery. Instead she only felt the weight of his power residing in those four little words, casual capitals acting as a heavy hand on her shoulder, an intimate palm against her throat.
She didn’t feel embarrassed. All of a sudden,she just felt right.