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And when I was done, I’d throw her out, because I don’t need another bastard problem in my life. Not now. Not ever.
But it’s never gonna happen. It’s a pipe dream. A fucking fantasy. The only fucking thing I’m getting off with is my fucking hand. And I’m so fucking tired of jerking off.
My dick isn’t doing it for me anymore. It used to, as soon as I got out of shower or the pool or the fucking gym or wherever the fuck I was, I’d whip it out and give it a good hard tug. But not anymore. Not in here. It’s not the same.
Right now I’m hard as stone, my erection refusing to quit, even though my heart isn’t in it.
Seeing her today has made me realise I need something more than a slick palm and a firm five-finger grip.
I sigh and gather up the crumpled sheets I’ve just ruined. I fucking hate this place. The counsellors are a bunch of assholes, and Doctor Seytan is an evil motherfucker with a god complex.
Maybe Ishouldfuck the new girl. It would give me something to do. It might even bring me joy. If I’m even capable of feeling joy anymore. I’m fucking exhausted. Bone tired of living. Wish I could justghostout of here.
Fat fucking chance of that. My skillset is far too fucking valuable to Seytan and the board she answers to. They need me too much to ever let me die. I know; I’ve tried. They bring me back every time, and the punishments get worse and worse.
A shiver of fucking anticipation runs through me, and I’m cold and hot at once. I throw off the sheets and stumble to the bathroom. I’m sweating and shaking, and I’m clenching my teeth so hard my jaw aches.
As I slam the door shut behind me, my eyes land on the mirror over the sink. I look like shit, and I feel even worse. I’m pathetic. Fucking pathetic. Jerking off to the sound of two other people fucking. Wishing it were me.
I wash my hands and wipe them dry on my shirt. Then I turn back and lean against the sink, bracing myself with both hands against the mirror and staring into my own eyes.
My mom always told me I have soulful eyes, but now when I look into them, I just see a dead machine. The scar on my scalp prickles, as it always does when I think of my family.
Fuck.
It fucking hurts.
There’s something wet dripping down my cheeks, so I’m definitely feeling something. At least I know that much. I know I’m not dead. That I am capable of feeling things. I’m sure I am.
It’s just that everything I feel is fucking awful, and I’m so fucking desperate to feel somethingelse,that I’m willing to do just about anything at this point. Even fucking the new girl. Whether she wants me to or not.
It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.
I’m fucking pathetic.
Eyeballing myself hard in the mirror, I reach down and grab my dick once more.
I’m sick. So fucking sick.
But it still stirs to life, and I go again to thoughts of the new girl choking on my cock, huge green eyes glistening with tears as she silently begs me to stop.
STICK A FORK IN MY VAJAYJAY FOR IT IS DONE
‘CASTLE’ – HALSEY
KOOKABURRA
Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker, stick a fork in my vajayjay, for it is done.
Thatwas a damn good fucking.
Could have lived without the cheese wire to the throat. Though it did make my pussy cream that much harder. Still. Not the point.
Blinking back the darkness, I come round on the floor of my bedroom. It’s still so brand new to me, I barely recognise it, but what Idorecognise is the psychopath staring down at my body. Thanks to the words inked above his eyebrows, there’s a perpetual smirk on his pretty, demonic face.
At some point he must have flipped me over because he certainly appears to be enjoying the view of my bare breasts as he languidly strokes his long, thick cock. He seems so entranced, I don’t think he’s even realised I’m awake.
I remove the noose from my neck, take in a deep, life-affirming, shuddering breath and then prepare to rain hell down on Nightshade.
