The valiant knight’s head who had tickled me the first time I saw him, who had made me tremble from my toes to the back of my neck, now dangled, bruised and battered, at the door of the princess whose he had struck countless times. A thin stream oozed from my fount, laking in my puckered little hole. Dad’s right, I’m too flexible. I was like a desperate castaway clapping her hands in panic to not drown in the sea. He slipped my feet over the outside of my shoulders and cross-locked my ankles behind my neck. Dad’s right, I’m too flexible. Lifted one his knee and put it on the bed. I kept my yoga pose, closed my eyes, imagined that my visitor who had ruined me and left me unfinished was still here, my fingers knew what to do, now I had to go the rest of the way using my own resources.
