I must have been one hot 16 year old to catch the interest of these devils, their whiskey lips and blood shot eyes full of lust.
It was a cold and ashen Friday when they came in, just about four in the morning with a quiet knock on the door. I had possessed extraordinary sex appeal, no wonder why they couldn't keep their hands off of me.
So what could I make of this? What could I do?
I stood aside and I let them in.
I was really getting to know them as they ripped me open and defiled my body and I'd neither flinch or hesitate and they'd be so proud of me. But they were totally justified in breaking my bones. I should have known better than to cry when they ripped off my clothes and ripped out my heart.
And yes, I was completely deserving of the blackened eyes and bruises.
But still, the taste of their greedy kisses, cold, black and metallic on his tongue, tempting his senses with oceans of pain and ecstasy. Waiting for that special love, sex and pain, hate and blood, death and humiliation, affection, obedience and compliance.
Yes, I'll stay alive for you and I'll do everything a proper masochist should do.