Ingenue

An emerging author/intellectual courtesan

[offputinhottie]

i feel oddly real today. thank you blue skies and 500 days of summer.

[offputinhottie]

I could totally use a boyfriend right now

[offputinhottie]

I never wish to act of my own volition

[offputinhottie]

I never forsee my self blooming past this point. I shall always be a juvenile blossom trading cotton jersey swaddling for ermine furs.

[knebellindemann]

By Roberto Ferri

[offputinhottie]

Almost Allegorical for the Catholic focus on Mary. The crown of thorns or around her hips, from which Christ sprung

[knebellindemann]

By Roberto Ferri

[offputinhottie]

Almost Allegorical for the Catholic focus on Mary. The crown of thorns or around her hips, from which Christ sprung

[offputinhottie]

I write for you, so you will take notice of me, and be throughly pleased with me. With my intellect cultivated under your disdain for my past self. Catch sight of me please. Read my lips I’m begging you. Tell me I’ve done well. That I am pleasing. That I can rest in blessed assurance of my being finished.

[offputinhottie]

I never forsee my self blooming past this point. I shall always be a juvenile blossom trading cotton jersey swaddling for ermine furs.

[offputinhottie]

I should die if I have no man to care for me in everything as I would him.

[offputinhottie]

I never wish to act of my own volition

[offputinhottie]

By cultivating my finishing education you have laid siege to me and claimed me, a product of your own seed.

[offputinhottie]

I write for you, so you will take notice of me, and be throughly pleased with me. With my intellect cultivated under your disdain for my past self. Catch sight of me please. Read my lips I’m begging you. Tell me I’ve done well. That I am pleasing. That I can rest in blessed assurance of my being finished.

[offputinhottie]

My dearest Mr. Bennington, is it quite awful of me to desire to be an amphibian in the truest sense? To be your poius image perfected little wife and insatiable harlot. To attend church with you every Sunday and prepare dinner for your corpulent children then to promenade our perfection in the lackluster face of polite society. At night awaiting you patiently in my boudoir to enact my confession session and the consequential punishment, the Lord’s mouth to your commanding hand. To be your house trained puppy and also your bratty untamed kitten. To wait patiently under your desk but tantalize you also by the brushing of my velveteen cheek against the inside of your pant’s leg.

[offputinhottie]

Let me be your linen spread me across your bed or even your knee. Smooth out my rebellious creases. By your hand beat me, a canvas, into your greatest masterpiece. I will wait for you on your desk day after day, an ostrich feather quil stationary but contradicting in my motion underneath your inhalations, waiting to be gripped by you, to be used by you. I will burn my fingers baking your favorite confectionery delights and feeding them to you by plump and dimpled hands, my dearest Emperor Bennington. With my charred digits I will stir your brandy, calling out to God in thanksgiving for you, you blessed son of Judah.

[offputinhottie]

much like Lawrence’s views on intimacy I believe that carnal unification is an extension of mental and psychological need. I am a precocious albeit regretfully developmentally arrested young debutante who does not desire to be on her own. I need a father always to love and cultivate me and so I hope to create one just for me and then of course he may have my animal as I imagine that’s the reward a progenitor would desire

KeeLiya Misti | Substack

KeeLiya Misti | Substack

[offputinhottie]

He blessed our food, fingers clasped in a vice of propriety. His rosy lips muttered praise to our God. Such a holy act wasted on my presence. I watched him lift his crystal flute to his mouth with his monstrous hands, roughened by the clean labor of piety. I could never imagine those same hands insatiably roaming over his body in shelter of the night— does the presence of the Lord keep him warm or does he still need woman? I cannot truly picture these fists coated in the ropes of self expression or the heat on his face after relief is bestowed to him. How awful I should imagine him so! Could it be possible men do not have male desires? How does he resist his temptation? Could he teach me?

I asked him to pray with me, for me, an unspoken request of course. I did not close my eyes, rebellious even in my submission, my eyes hunger for him in all that he is or what I perceive him to be.

Is he ever struck with unbearable animalistic desire? If I position my lips just so and sculpt my penitent diction into a fragrant offering would his cheeks glow red with warmth and his Adam’s apple bob fiercely above his tall starched collar? Could my purity genuinely be alluring— or does my hoping it will be alluring tarnish all virtue? Can I be desired without being transgressive? Does such a man truly adore heavenly sent manna over the forbidden fruit? I think more than anything, I want him, or the likes of him, to resist me. To bring my name to the Lord heavy on their tongue as I bring my own desires to the judgment room. A man with the physicality of a spartan and the moral and spiritual fortitude of Hosea could beat the whorishness out of me.

KeeLiya Misti | Substack

KeeLiya Misti | Substack