Page 6 of Tame Me
He should be weaker than this.
His body had just been barely resuscitated by my stupid ass, not even an hour before this fucked up game of his. It had to be the fucking demons in his head keeping him upright, much lessoverpowering me like this. I let my eyes glide around the space, trying to find something-anything to use and free myself from his grip.
Fucking Judas Masters.
Much like all the other broody bastards with that last name, this fucker was a pain in my ass. Judas became my responsibility because, frankly, I didn’t think anyone knew what the fuck to do with him.
I was hired by Goliath, based on Quinn’s recommendation, to work at the Asylum. Among other reasons for contemplating my life choices, I accepted the position. Never did I dream it would lead to being face fucked in the goddamn ghetto from the man that was supposed to be dead already.
We’d played this game for a year now. He thought I didn’t see him, didn’t recognize the little details of his grubby handprints in my condo.
At first, I hadn’t. I thought I just wanted the asshole alive, that I was creating the illusion to make myself feel better about losing him. The fucked up Little Chip that no one bothered to understand.
Everyone wanted to change him, mold him, fix him. But Judas, despite every goddamn robot working on his brain, was not broken. He was smart as hell, and he knew himself and others more than even the greatest of narcissists.
I wanted to figure him out, to do what no one else had tried to do. I wanted to understand him. His mind was a mystery because of all the fucking depravity that resided in there.
He was insane.
That much was evident to anyone, but there were beautiful pieces inside his noggin that were akin to warped diamonds. I could see his pain, the raw hatred and self-loathing he lived with every day. He hadn’t wanted to kill that kid.
He didn’t want to kill anyone. His fractured mind allowed so many to use him to their own end. And every time they did, it took more and more pieces away from the man.
My Little Chip.
I didn’t allow myself to believe he was alive for so long. Going about my life and abusing my body in the anger that I felt like my own mind was slipping. I used my anger to rip my muscles, create a monster within myself to protect me from the real ones on the outside. Despite being two hundred and ninety pounds of bulking mass, I was still so fucking weak.
“You look so beautifully broken, Liebling. Fucking hell. I have wanted my cock down your thick throat for so long. Fuck! Maybe I did die, because this, baby, is fucking heaven.”
I blinked the stupid tears from my eyes, anger growing with the viciousness of his thrusts. Maybe because I saved him from dying, now he wanted to punish me for it…punish me for making him live.
Could I really blame him when I don’t even want to be alive either?
I tried to speak, but he smacked my cheek with my gun, tsking and grunting, that stupid child song lulling my addled brain to an eerie calm. The harder I fought, the rougher he got with my aching throat. He loved hurting me, and fuck me if I didn’t…like it.
I gave up trying to figure out what the fuck was wrong with me long ago. Well before Judas fucking Masters got his tattooed mitts on my ass.
But this? This was too much.
I wasn’t attracted to men.
Fucking hell, I wasn’t attracted to anyone.
I didn’t need sex.
I needed to fucking breathe.
It was an annoying need to keep from exploding. But every cunt I took was just empty. I didn’t feel anything. If I even orgasmed at all, it was like a muted splash from a pond, opposed to the crashing waves others describe.
I was defective, a reject in even my basic functioning. Judas may be fucking nuts, but my mind was just as fractured. Losing my brother, Trevor, had done that to me. It didn’t matter how long I tried to find him. I knew he was gone. Killed. Probably overdosed and died in some ditch. Forgotten. Just a fucking tag on a cold body, and thrown in a fire to burn to ash.
I was fucking burning. My body felt hot, a foreign sensation unless I was working out for hours. I chased this heat in how hard I hit my training.
Why was a fucking mental patient the one to bring it on now?
“You’re not coming in my goddamn mouth—” I grunted, trying to pull back from his dick enough to speak. “Kill me before I strangle you.”
He laughed, that eerie yet beautiful tone like a warped lullaby you can’t help but listen to.
