14. Madelyn #2
I take a proper look at the lipstick. Undo the cap and see that the whole body of it, where color is supposed to be, is light pink. But there’s no pigment; it’s smooth. Scanning the tube’s body, I can see there’s a small, round button that I must’ve missed before.
One click, and the whole length of it vibrates in my hand. The waves are light and carefree.
Another click, and it speeds up. More intensity is added to it. One last click to turn it off.
It was so obvious this wasn’t a real lipstick. I should have known.
Unknown:
So what do you think of my present? I know my previous ones were more on the nose, but this one’s discreet.
“Why do you keep sending me sex toys?” My voice is low again, secretive. To the naked eye, it sounds like I’m having a conversation on the phone.
If they saw me talking to myself with no earphones or phone, though…
Unknown:
Good question. I wasn’t sure what to get you at first. But a quick look at your nightstand told me all I needed. I thought my wife liked toys. Don’t you, darling?
My cheeks flush with his answer. He’s been through my nightstand?
It comes out louder than I intend to. “That’s an invasion of privacy!”
Unknown:
Aren’t we past that? Privacy?
“If you like me so much, why not just give me normal gifts? Flowers? Chocolate? An expensive handbag?”
Unknown:
I can’t read your mind, Madelyn. That’s why I went through your nightstand. But is that what you want? If you do, say no more. I was trying to be creative, that’s all. Especially after reading your dirty little diary. Pleasure seemed way more on par with your interests than flowers.
“How about we stop it with the creepy gifts, and we meet instead?”
Unknown:
Are you flirting with me?
I’m not. But maybe this is the way to catch him.
“Maybe.”
Unknown:
Well, someone’s eager. *Winkey face* We will meet. Just not yet. Be patient and use these toys to get yourself off and get ready for me. I know you’re a bit inexperienced. And maybe that butt plug wasn’t the best start. But I promise the rest won’t hurt.
Oh my God. He knows that I’m a virgin.
Ping.
Unknown:
I can’t say the same about my cock, though. But you’re a big girl, with big girls’ toys. You’ve gotten a taste. Even if that six-inch pink rabbit dildo has got nothing on mine. Don’t worry. I’m sure you can take it, my wife.
“What if I don’t want to get off? Are you going to make me?”
Unknown:
Oh, but you do. You can’t fool me. You’re frustrated, Madelyn. This journal is a little glorious sex positive sanctuary where you’ve let yourself go. You can be sure I’m cherishing it and learning a lot.
As much as his entitlement frustrates me, and his stupid game that will probably get me fired annoys me, there’s something about his words that makes my heart race. He wants to please me. He’s making me go through all this so I stop denying myself things. No one’s ever done that for me.
Unknown:
And don’t pretend you don’t like sex. My wife loves sex.
His last message has an attachment.
I click on it, and another picture of my journal downloads.
Dear diary,
I originally got this journal when I was eighteen and skipped the foreword. No one really writes forewords in personal diaries, but what the heck?
One day, someone really annoying told me I should try this writing thing and gifted me this journal, and maybe this is my chance.
It took me a few years to come up with something to write here, but here I am. The things I’ve written here are diverse and extensive. This journal started out innocent. A simple outlet for my sinful thoughts.
But I’m in my twenties now. Why do I need to keep up this innocent girl facade?
I mean, I still love innocent things. Pink, teddy bears, flowers, cotton candy.
But you know what else I love? Sex. I mean, I think I do.
I love the idea of it. I haven’t actually…mmm…done things yet.
I know, I’m late to the party.
I just need a man who’ll give me his all and fuck me right.
I, Madelyn A’gosto, love sex. And I want it. I want it dirty. I want it hard. This journal is my confession. The one reason I’ll be sent to church to get down on my knees and repent for my sins.
Okay, probably not on my knees. That only happens in my smutty books.
I wish I lived in a world where I wouldn’t be judged for enjoying my body, wanting to be worshipped by someone, and I could express myself more.
This journal is a place where I let myself go.
All my fantasies. Dark, twisted, dirty, fucked up.
Everything I want. Maybe, someday, I’ll tick them all off.
And if this journal, be damned, gets lost and a handsome stranger finds it, and wants to make me come—hey, there, at least you’ll know where to start.
Like that’ll ever happen lol
-Madelyn A’gosto
Shit. I completely forgot I wrote this intro to my journal a couple of years ago.
That I even admitted who I am. Wrote my name and all. Twice. I shouldn’t have done that.
Unknown:
Ironic, how you predicted the future with that last line, my wife.
Ping.
Unknown:
And I’m thinking this could be a good punishment, too. If you don’t do what I say, we could get you out of that school real fast. You’d have all the time in the world for me to fuck you in all those different ways you describe here.
Unknown:
If I release this beautiful and inspiring foreword to your bulletin board as I did with the previous page, your career is over, darling.
A wave of panic settles in my bones, rushing all the way up to my throat, a lump forming in it and blocking my airways.
Deep breaths, Maddy. Deep breaths.
That’d be…horrible.
Flashbacks of college and how my first year went down the drain from a stupid clip, a vivid motion picture in my head. How it made me feel to have everyone watch me at my most vulnerable. Ashamed. Judged.
That’s why I made this journal in the first place, to keep all my dirty thoughts locked in somewhere, so I don’t have to deal with them.
He’s right. I need this, but I can’t give in. This is wrong. I shouldn’t want this.
Why am I always attracted to danger?
“Can I call you tonight?” I ask before I regret it.
Unknown:
Are you saying you’re going to play with yourself for your husband while he watches?
“Yes.” I bite my lip. I can’t believe I just said yes to that. “You don’t even have to show your face if you’re shy, hubby. Just sit back and enjoy.”
Unknown:
Now I’m hubby. You’re treading dangerous waters, my wife.
“So, are we doing this?”
The next message is a phone number. A smile coats my lips.
I’m in.