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There hasn’t been a day where I’ve let anyone close enough so they’d have the ability to peek inside me.
Peel my exterior open.
Smash my discipline to bits.
That is, until this fireball of a girl barged into my life uninvited, planted herself where no one has tread before, and has been detonating me from the inside out ever since.
Despite the streak of submissiveness that shone in her blue eyes, I chose to pay her no mind and ignored her as if she didn’t exist.
She’s too young, too different, too…full of life.
That’s what Annika’s image in my mind is.Life.
Bright, dazzling, full-of-purple-and-violet life.
And my pitch-blackness has no business tarnishing that light, slowly but surely devouring it.
Once I’m done with her, there will be nothing left for others to pick up.
She’ll be too hollow. Too…lifeless.
The most logical choice is to let her go. I should’ve done that the first time I touched her. Preferably before. Because one taste is what started it all.
One taste is what tipped everything over the edge.
And yet, I fail to even contemplate the option where she’s out of my life.
She came in like a wrecking ball and now there’s a hole where the impact happened.
There’ll be a day when I’ll have to let her go. She’s so beautiful and I’m destined to destroy anything of beauty.
But that day isn’t today.
After turning on the faucet and letting water fill the tub, I grab a towel, wet it, and head back to the bedroom.
Annika passed out a while ago and is currently sleeping on her side, a slight crease furrowing her brow.
I push away the sheet that’s covering her middle and she winces, probably due to the welts.
My cock strains against my boxers at the view of the angry red marks blotching her pale skin on her neck, tits, and her hard pink nipples.
I flick one nipple and she moans, burying her face in the pillow.
Only Annika would find this extreme pleasure in pain. She says she doesn’t like it, but on the contrary, her body has become attuned to it.
The more I inflict pain, the harder she breaks apart.
She’s a natural masochist. She just didn’t know it.
Sitting on the mattress, I pull her legs apart and pause at the view of dried blood between her inner thighs.
She was a virgin.
A fuckingvirgin.
I should’ve suspected it, considering her sheltered upbringing, but on the other hand, she’s resourceful and cunning enough to have had sex if she’d wanted to.
Maybe she didn’t want to.
