bio

Sarah Lynch-Walker works full time, goes to school full time, and doesn't sleep very much. Her hobby is finding new ways of decimating her free time.

primary external link:
www.lynchwalker.com

Lines

It all started with the thumbtacks.

He'd drag them lightly across my shoulder blades, his breath getting ragged when the angry red lines rose. And fell. The nanoskin healed so fast that I didn't mind.

And he'd asked so nicely.

The day he came home with the scalpels I was a little hesitant. I hadn't even thought to ask where he'd gotten them. It was a small set with three perfect little blades lined up neatly in a black leather case. He had me climb into the tub and lie down. He kept rubbing his crotch against my leg, not wanting to play with himself because it might ruin his lines.

He got off on lines.

Now there was a little pain. The nanoskin couldn't quite keep up. He ran the smallest blade across my stomach where my belly button might have been. He kept hissing and rubbing and cutting. He said later that it was like gutting the perfect fish over and over. I'm still not sure if that was a compliment.

It was the cleaver that did it.

He came home, grinning like a maniac and not bothering to shut the door behind him. He'd taken half the skin off of my back before I showed him exactly where he could shove it.

He did not have nanoskin.

I really wish I could keep a boyfriend for more than two weeks.