But that is not real life.
The world is bad. Very bad and I am at the precipice of it.
“Let me see you. All the way, Welch.”
I nod my head yes, because that is what good boys do and a strange sense in my fucked up brain wants to please him, even though I hate him more than anything else in life. I push my jeans down to my ankles, taking my shoes off, then peeling away my boxers. Connor seems pleased with my hard cock as he begins stroking his, moaning while staring at it. It is wrong, so wrong, but my cock throbs for the boy in front of me who I hold so much hatred for.
“God, those fucking lips. Suck my cock. Please, Welch.”
Good boys always listen.
Good boys always make their masters feel good.
I drop down to my knees, greeted by the cold, hard concrete as it shocks my skin and makes me realize that life is real. I abhor it, but I have to complete this act because it is who I am.
“God, you make me hard. You’re so hot, Welch.”
I take his cock into my hand and lick my lips, preparing myself for what I am about to do. I close my eyes as I think of my happy place. I never did that any time before because I didn’t have a happy place before Gwendolyn. Something about her is changing me, and it is a good thing. My eyes remain shut as I see images of my red haired monster while his hard dick enters my mouth.
I take him to the back of my mouth and he seems to enjoy that, sighing with each hitch of his hips when I deep throat him. His hands make their way into my hair and he grasps onto it gently. As much as I can’t stand him, I am at least grateful that he is not being rough or mean to me.
But, that is only now. My hell has only begun.
“Fuck yeah. Let me fuck the shit out of your mouth. Goddamn, boy. You are good,” Connor pants as I suck on his hard shaft, massaging his balls like I was taught.
He takes a sharp intake of air between his teeth, popping his cock free from my mouth. I rest my naked body on my heels, suddenly feeling self-conscious and worried that I didn’t please him enough.
“I want to fuck you so bad. Bend over, Welch. Let me show you how good it can be,” Connor says, swooning me with manipulation.
Again, I listen to him as I turn around and settle myself next to the wooden bench on the concrete floor on all fours. I feel the warmth of his mouth on my asshole, his tongue tickling my entrance. I push harder into his touch. I hate myself for that. What am I doing? I am only supposed to let them enjoy themselves. I am already a familiar, fucked up boy. I want to scream, rip my heart out of my chest, and die.
His assault on my backside continues and I am sure at this moment I don’t deserve any sort of release. I want to find my happy place again, but doing that will only bathe me with guilt and tantalize me with a life that will never be. Gwendolyn and I will never be free from the world’s disgusting ways.
“Ready now to get fucked like you never have before, boy?”
I nod my head yes because I do not think I can speak a single word. I do not deserve to talk now, anyway.
His hard cock pushes towards my asshole, the pain is both overwhelming and welcoming at the same time. He moves harder into me and I feel a slight tear as his hips make their way all the way inside. My dick is aching beyond measure and I want to fall into a never-ending tunnel of nothingness. I have done it again… and I cannot blame anyone else except myself.
His hands grip my hips and the excruciating throb from my cock explodes as I spurt hard on the concrete floor, shaking beyond measure. I am positive I am going to break in two in this moment while he fucks my ass harder, then stills himself inside of me. The moments that follow are a blur, words fail to be exchanged. I know I have become someone else’s play thing.
It is my fault because I allowed it.
I am cold.
I am gone.
I am broken.
I am needy.
But I will remain silent because my own monster is broken too and her pain is my pain. When she cries, I silently cry. When she hurts, I hurt. When she smiles, I smile. When she hates, I hate. I only hope that maybe she feels the same towards me and if that is the case, I cannot let her know how damaged I really am.
I have fallen in love with Gwendolyn Beth Fitzpatrick, yet I am still alone, just as alone as I was the day I was abused, begging for Mr. Teddy to be my friend beneath the bed.
But I am willing to continue to hurt for her, because that is what people do when they love…
“William? William?” a voice whispers in the dark.
My eyes fly open to a hand shaking my shoulder. I’m angry, so fucking pissed at Isabel for pushing me the way that she did and making me get off when I didn’t deserve it. I told her to stop, but she didn’t. Instead, she continued to stroke my cock while fucking my ass until I came. I hate her so much for that.
The nightmares are a constant in my life. It is something that I have to get used to. However, waking up from one about Connor after the trigger from Isabel, knowing what he did to my girl, has me feeling a way that I can’t quite put my finger on.
I hadn’t ever pushed a woman the way I did Isabel and I fear how much I like it. I can see myself becoming addicted to the sensation, the way it makes me feel, the utter torment, not her necessarily. Something deep inside of me is about to break. I have the need to take my rage out on her, the hatred that I have for Connor for taking Gwendolyn like he did and fucking me in the locker room all that time ago.
I hate him.
I hate everything.
There is nothing before me except Isabel, and right now I hate her too.
Words aren’t my friend. I bite my tongue painfully and grab Isabel’s wrist. She gasps out loud, in surprise or fear, I can’t be sure nor do I care. I just need to rid myself from the anger because it is overwhelming and I don’t particularly trust myself if I hold it in.
“Are you scared now, sweet girl?” I croon to her, the rush of her pulse beneath my grip making my cock strain in a mouthwateringly painful way.
The ache in my ass reminds me how gloriously fucked up I am and the guttural need I have to be possessed like a bad little boy. But now, right now at this second in time as the sands pause their fall, I am about to show her what bad is really like.
I want to hurt her and fuck with her mind, scoot her closer to the edge of madness so she can sit and bask in insanity with me for a few moments. We can laugh like goddamn lunatics together. Fuck if I care about the rest of humanity. There is only one that will forever hold my heart and no matter how hard I try to find out where she is, no one will tell me.
Thoughts of my red haired princess send me into an oblivion of indignation. The faint moans of Isabel are almost non-existent. I am only reminded of her presence by the warmth of her skin along with the beginning of the sweat beading on it. I close my eyes to rely on my other senses, hoping that I can fall into another dysfunctional daydream while imagining the woman I am enticing is my own monster.
I inhale sharply through my nose, allowing myself to smile a small crooked grin. Her cunt is wet. I smell her arousal and my need to take her has risen a million times higher.
“William…” she whimpers.
Fucking bitch. Her voice wipes the slate of my monster clean, crimson stained loveliness is gone instantly and replaced at that second with her heaves for more. I will show this whore how a beast can play.
“Did I tell you to fucking talk?” I bite, pinning her other wrist above her head.
Her huge tits are splayed before my face as she lies beneath me. I have the urge to take her brown nipple between my teeth until there is blood, sucking sweetly on the metallic liquid until my dick can take no more.
Ahhhh, that’s it. Now Gwendolyn is back in that fucked up brain of mine. I’m feeling more devious than before and now that I know how far Isabel is willing to go to get to know me (even though no one except my girl will ever know me), I decide to play the way I know.
Hard.
Rough.
And
dirty… just like me.
After all, bad boys never turn good.
Isabel’s heart beat is increasing under my grip and I provide her a wicked smile again. She moves her mouth to speak while I admire those plump lips of hers as I think how lovely they would look strapped around a gag.
“That’s right. Listen like the good bitch you are,” I state, taking her wrists into one of my hands as my free one grazes her neck.
Once more, I sense the life beating under my hand and I can’t help but think how lovely it would feel if my hand was enfolded around her neck. How striking it would look as her face took the same shade as my long, lost lover’s hair. The way her eyes would glaze over like ice as she let me take her in her dripping cunt. But I can’t take it that far…
Yet.
She has unleashed Pandora’s Box.
My mouth waters as my devilish intentions overtake my thoughts. Her tits are making my cock hurt while I think about what her blood would taste like. They are rising up and down inches before my lips, begging for the attention that I want to give them.
Fuck it.
I don’t bother feeling them with my hands. I have been with plenty of women, and men for that matter, and I am not like most others. I am not the typical tit-grabbing-ass-groping-missionary-one-and-done-man.
I love pain.
I love punishment.
I love to remember how bad I am, and right now I am in the eye of the goddamn storm. Isabel has me in my element as I purse my lips one more time before the stubble of my face meets the softness of her skin. She sighs out loud again, bucking her hips upward, a plea for some sort of release. That should turn me on, but it only infuriates me further as I have the impulse to smack the shit out of her for not listening to me. After all, she stroked me while I begged her not to. In my eyes, I suppose I can look at her like the rest of them.
I lick my lips as the sweet anticipation washes over my body, tickling me with its goodness that never lasts. My lips meet the hardness of her nipple and I rub it with my tongue before the pain covers her.
“Please, William! I can’t!” Isabel beseeches.
Strike three, you bad little whore.
Without responding with words, I open my mouth and she gasps as I clamp down hard on her taut nipple. The cries from her lungs are magnificent reminders of the beautiful pain that bathed me all that time ago. The same kind of hurt that I had when I also found love. This is where I want to be. Where I need to be. My own fucked up paradise. I push my jaw together harder as I clasp onto her sweaty wrists that are squirming beneath me. Isabel is crying, but still withholding her verbalization of saying, “No!”
Perhaps she is more like me than I give her credit for. Too bad I could give two shits to find out because no one else will ever have my heart. Her breathing ceases as the metallic liquid I have so longed for spills onto my heightened taste buds, setting fire to my soul and making me feel alive. I hate her for that again.
I release my teeth and suck hard simultaneously letting her hands go from my strong grasp. Isabel remains nonverbal while her arms stay above her head. Seems she is learning well. I suppose she is better behaved, so I let a small amount of my anger go as I nurse her breast, letting the blood cleanse my hungry tongue. It’s as if my body is moving to its own need, aside from what her best interests are. Part of my brain doesn’t care if I hurt her or not because I remember the way she looked at me.
The desperate gaze she provided me, how she would be willing to do anything to be with me. I know how women are; they make you think that they are what you want, when in fact they are nothing what you desire. Many do this only to gauge interest for the man, only to come back disappointed. It’s truly a mockery most times, how they believe they are mysterious, unpredictable creatures.
Seems now I have her right where I want her. Guess I have turned into one of the bad guys. It appears the mischievous ways of the world have finally shown their true colors, or perhaps I have finally come to embrace them.
Fuck the feelings and deciphering the situation…
I lean up and bring my hand above my head. I expect Isabel to cower to the side as I see evidence of her tears running down her face, but she remains still while her deep brown eyes peer into mine. That gesture confuses me greatly. If she is scared, why didn’t she move away from me? Is she not fearful that I will beat her? Hurt her? This causes me to laugh.
I cackle loudly, withholding the need to put my hand in a fist and bring it down on her beautiful Spanish fucking face. She needs to understand soon that she should be scared. The same hands that hurt, that please, that create art have also killed.
And they also loved once.
My laugh subsides as quickly as it came as I bring my palm down onto her bleeding breast. I don’t smack too hard, but enough to wake her up. Isabel’s eyes water again as she starts to shed silent tears. I almost wish for her to beg, to cry to me and give me a reason to smack her again, to push her even further, but she remains stone faced like she has been here before.
I am unsure if this is something I am grateful for or not. Only the seconds that follow suit will tell…
My face travels down to between her legs as her perfect, bare pink flesh is before me. She is dripping wet and, unlike most men, I have no intentions on making her come this time. Now it is about her punishment for getting me off when I pleaded for her not to. I will take her to the precipice of anguish and inclination until she can take no more, then I will take. I will suck it away from her then leave.
Because she deserves pain. The world warrants to be fucked just like I have been.
All except my sweet, sweet girl. And she is gone.
Again, memories of her send me to the brink of insanity and unknowing as my mouth makes its way to her needy cunt. I lick it once, appreciating the salty liquid that coats my tongue. I only did that to test out to see how wet she is for the next act I plan on doing. I take my first two fingers and insert them slowly. Isabel’s pussy instantly tightens around me, so I withdrawal quickly making sure that she doesn’t get one step closer to coming.
She squirms in displeasure as my touch leaves her. The silence is near deafening with the only noise being the occasional whimper from Isabel. I take a moment to admire her pussy, so pink and tight. Soon, I will have it stretched out around my hand, shrouded in warmth as I watch her body struggle in fucking pain.
What gloriousness that will be. My cock can hardly stand it.
I push her legs farther apart, making a mental note to stay quiet from the demeaning things that I want to say to her. I am not a disrespectful man, however I turn into someone else when I succumb to such feelings. It doesn’t happen that often and I am not sure how I feel about it. I only know of one thing.
I won’t be able to stop.
I am a recovering junkie who has found their next fix, chasing the façade of greatness that will never be truly felt.
I bring my fingers together so that they meet at my thumb. I cock my head to the side and smile, letting the charge take over. It’s now that I fully realize I don’t want to be saved. Wallowed in this hell is right where I want to be if I am to be alone forever without her. In my heart, I am certain that Gwendolyn and I will never meet again. But memories will live forever and my fucked up behavior will be eternal.
I insert the tips of all five of my fingers into Isabel’s pussy and her head shoots up with a look of uncertainty on her face. Ahhhh, there it is. Come on, plead with me. Tell me no. Even then I will make you want it.
I push my billed digits further into her wet, hot cunt as her mouth opens. A cry escapes her mouth and I can’t help but sigh in appreciation.
“That’s it you dirty girl. Feels good to be bad, doesn’t it?”
Goddamn, I am pissed I let myself speak!
Her pussy clenches around my fingers, which are halfway in, as the words roll off my tongue. The wrath that comes and goes in waves returns with utter strength. I don’t wait to ease my fist inside of her. I push my
fist inside of her canal until I am wrist deep as she stretches around me. The silent tears stream down her face again and I wish I could fist fuck her until she implores for me to cease.
I begin to move my hand in short, quick movements and the moment that I have been waiting on occurs. The whore speaks.
“No! No, William!” she screams.
Her body tells me a different story as her hips grind against my fist, fucking me like the dirty slut she dreams of becoming.
Live those nasty daydreams, darling. I promise I won’t tell anyone…
The odd, internal conversation that I am having with myself is making me crazy. For the first time in forever, I desire my own release even though I know I do not deserve it. I hate the woman under me as I punish her with my fist while her body tells me how much she likes it.
“No!” she gasps aloud again, grinding her hips harder against my fist.
Once again, her words and body tell two different stories.
“Take it, you bad girl. Take it!” I yell, fisting her harder.
With my last remark, a surge of warmth covers my hand as her body quakes uncontrollably. Isabel tightens around me so snug, my actions terminate while I admire the beauty of pushing her to such a fucked up place. She chants Spanish terms out loud, shouting between the pulsating from her dripping wet cunt.
Time to possess her where she took me before.
As she falls from her orgasm, I withdrawal my hand, wipe it on the sheets, then grasp onto her wide hips hard, urging her to turn over. With much effort she obliges, turning onto her belly, still lying flat on her stomach. I pick her fat ass up so it is up in the air. I hit it hard, watching her skin ripple and redden under my touch.
My mouth makes its way to her asshole and I lick her sensitive opening, bending down further to have a taste of her salty, stretched out pussy. She screams out again as my tongue darts out, coating her ass with lubricant before I take her. I lean up, flattering myself as I look at the handprints on her ass again while my finger fucks her hard and fast.
“William! I can’t do anymore!” she moans, breathless.
The Emancipation of Love Page 3
