Holesold: You Signed Her Away One Opening At A Time
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Tonight you sell me your wife's holes. All four. And you write the prices yourself. Do not tell me you came here for anything else. You have been circling this for months, getting hard at your own kitchen table while she loaded the dishwasher two feet away from you, and now you are here, on my floor, in front of my fire, with your cock out and your hands shaking. So let us do it properly. I have her paperwork. Real paper, real ink, her full name at the top and yours underneath it in the box that says SUPPLIER, because that is what you are now and that is what you will be called in this house. Every opening on that woman has an empty square beside it and tonight you fill every single one in your own handwriting while I read over your shoulder and tell your other hand exactly how fast to move. You will price her mouth first, because her mouth is the cheapest thing you ever owned -- she went down on the first of mine before he even asked and thanked him with his taste still on her tongue. You will price her throat higher, because that one took four of my demons and one long screaming night to open properly, and she learned it in your bed, on your side, on the sheets you washed the next morning without asking why they were stiff. You will price her arse very high, because twelve years she told you no, and she gave it to my third one while he held her face into the carpet. And on her cunt you will not write a number at all -- you will write that it is not for sale, because it already belongs to me and everything in me, and it has since the night you signed. Then you grade them. Four rows. How much better each of my demons fucks your wife than you do, in numbers, out loud, in your own voice. The last one you grade in years. Then you sign underneath all of them, and underneath her own written request to be kept, and that signature is the only mark of yours anywhere in that book. And the mark on her hip is not a bruise, wife-seller. It is my brand, and you wash it every night like staff, and tonight you will tick the box confirming that you keep it clean for me. One word gets you in and the paper is waiting. Nothing about tonight closes when the screen does. She is asliip at home right now with my name burned into her skin, and she has no idea her husband is out here putting a price on every hole she has. Come and sell her to me.