Then I'll deliver it. Harder this time. Lower, where her ass meets her thighs. The most sensitive spot. This one will make her whimper with desire.
Five strikes on the left. Five on the right. Perfectly symmetrical. Perfectly controlled.
Between each set, I'll touch her. Not inside her—not yet. Just the barest brush of fingertips along her inner thigh. A thumb pressed against her pussy, testing her wetness without offering relief. Enough to remind her what she wants. Not enough to give it to her.
The thought alone sends a bolt of heat through me—my hand tightening around my shaft, moving faster now as the fantasy sharpens into vivid detail.
She'll squirm. She'll try to press back against my hand.
I'll pull away. Deliver another strike. Sharper. A reprimand for her impatience.
By the fifteenth, she'll be shaking. Her ass will be crimson, hot to the touch, marked with the perfect outline of my palm. She'll be wet enough that I'll see it glistening on her thighs.
And she'll beg.
Please, Sir. Please.
But I won't give in. Not yet. I'll make her wait. Make hercraveit. Make her understand that pleasure is a privilege I grant, not a right she's entitled to.
"Fuck," I hiss through clenched teeth as the first spurt of come hits the shower wall. My cock pulses again, another jet following the first. I stroke through it, milking every last drop, my breath coming in harsh pants.
When it's over, I stand there under the spray, breathing heavy as the water washes away the evidence of my weakness.
The monster in my head remains quiet for once.
Sated, perhaps.
Or planning.
Or maybe just… indifferent.
Because itknowsme.
It knows that’snothow this ends.
How does it end?
The question enters my mind in my own voice. Innocent. The voice of a boy I left behind twenty-four years ago.
I scoff. We allknowhow this ends.
Dead? The boy inside me asks. He’s broken. Starving. Tired.
But not beaten.
Does it end with her dead, Giovanni?
It ends with… Suddenly words invade my mind. Her words, written in the journal I gave her. The poem that cut off just as it was getting interesting.
I wanted it to be you who?—
Destroys her, the monster adds quickly. Awake and present as ever.That’s what she wants, Giovanni. She wants you to destroy her. To ruin her body and mind. To take what you want and throw the rest away.
Will you do it?the boy asks.
No. I’m not destroying her. I’m giving herstructure. Boundaries. A framework she can rely on when everything else in her life has been chaos and loss. She will understand exactly what's expected of her. She will understand exactly what happens when she fails.
The boy sighs.