A Mansion Built on A Cliff Side

is the perfect place for a tranquil environment to relax your bodies and empty your minds.

For stillness, silence, calmness, and serenity.

And it happens to be my billion-dollar dungeon for the time being or maybe my lifetime being. If you consider jumping down for freedom would work for me.

The mansion Shouts", Leave me Alone, Asshole!".

Point taken.

Snort. Snort. Snort.

Maybe try to snort some shit!

Can I please have some humor in my life? Just once.

Maybe I should try some crack, or meth with ice coffee for once.

I want to laugh and be laughed about but I could not afford that inconvenience.

That's his magic word: Inconvenience.

Everything is neatly fingerprinted and voice-activated locked or maybe retina scanned?

I just don't know anymore?!

I cannot compare how I feel these months after I am taken back to his so-called loving arms.

Sick.bastard.loving arms.

It's typical pain in my private parts in any corner at any time of the day or night or noon. As long as he feels the" urge" either in private or in public.

What a Sick Bastard Satyriasist!

I have dealt with the stigma with private tears, drowning in self-pity, and learning to drink alcohol now and then with him to forget but he controls the intake I could so any pain or pleasure he would do I would be half aware of it, and to my shame, I have enjoyed the pleasure for the most times I'm lightheaded.

Yikes!

Shame. Shame.

The walk of Shame of Cersei.

And it would bring me to tears and my hormones to the sea imbalance.

To Give me something to be vigorous with when he's not around, I have taken my piano lessons satisfactorily and excelled from beginner to intermediate level which Angel affirms each time he asked me to play for him. I have to say Yiruma would be my favorite among them and to my dismay he hates sad pieces. One time, he caught me playing 'River Flows to You' he fucked me endlessly with his people watching us like an exhibition stimulus and I can't forget the lust burning in their eyes when he forced me to look at them when he mounted on me like a bitch on heat.

Thankfully, they don't linger long to see me be raped over and over again. So I forgot the sad tones and try to learn more about Chopin or Mozart.

I also develop a love for organizing the pantry supply. He supported me by buying new containers to stock and restock some things from different kinds of pasta to canned goods, fresh ones to laundry essentials. The mansion has a walk-in Fridge for Pete's sake with the other two large ones. It kept me up to be able to do so but I also gain a minor OCD behavior because I keep alphabetically stacking things like what I do on the index cards in my office.

hooray!

The life I used to have.

The life I could not gain shitty access to.

I also had another one to talk to, the lady chef. If you consider having only one sentence as a conversation at least she nods more to make me feel I have one.

Anyways, He hasn't toned down the violence though, I just learn not to stand in the way when he is angry about someone or something though he vents it out through me with either a misery in the pussy or ass or my damn mouth. fucker!

As it happens, Xantheus is his Step Brother, a brother he loathes so much but waited for enough so he can overpower and destroy him whom he just had killed last week in front of my own eyes after weeks of torture by stabbing him with a knife in the nape with electrically charged wires attached and to be safe that he is thoroughly dead used a cutter to impale every major blood vessel and then gave him a parting gift.

Parts here. Parts there.

I blacked out after the event he forced me to spectate.

Nobody interfered with their tense rivalry and no one dared to get in between their uncommunicative aggression.

The piece of cows dung!

Xantheus was an asylum I never asked for but needed. I thought he would be the ending I hoped for but the plot twist is He is the Order to which Everybody Abides.

Thráin, specifically said I should do everything to win his trust but never give my heart and I nearly did.

He and Thráin are Old money but Xantheus provides an order of measure for all kinds of corruption that the government can control.

A mutual benefit for both parties. The war on drugs was just a facade to have the people trust the so-called Government. The war had always been futile all along. There is no drug or arms, trafficking, money laundering, or any crime deal he can't know and not be part of, and now the Order rides in the hands of my Captor.

Making him more Dangerous than ever and my life seems like walking on thin ice lately and I'm more afraid of what the future holds. If I ever have one that doesn't involve him.

I just Stop Hoping because it's the one thing he is trying even hard to kill inside of me.

I have been in and out of this house that he has gotten me following him everywhere in my best appearance without physical markings making me known to all his so-called business partners, associates, and crime family who are all afraid even to shake my hands without his permission.

There was one though who gave me a lustful gaze, he went berserk and killed him on spot with his fountain pen on the internal jugular vein inside a restaurant while nobody cared.

He would let me see the world I have left hanging. The busy, buzzing chaos of streets and life living in what you please has taken me aback, I don't think I can come back to society after he is done. I might just live the rest of my days with my mom in seclusion.

If ever he is Done.

" Why so Serious?", a question came out of nowhere from a voice I knew to shiver but not to flinch.

Where traveling somewhere in a luxurious trailer if I can describe that.

That has everything to die for. Or live with.

"Do you still think of what could be if I didn't kill Xantheus?", his tone is deadly and no amount of Bacardi can suppress my fear if I take a look at his eyes full of hatred for him. I just couldn't forget the first week he had taken me back. He subjected me to harsh sexual Training of wax play to relieve his anger that I nearly liked the guy who showed me fake compassion rather than treating me as an object.

I have learned the hard way not to disagree with him when it comes to his whims and play. The wax play though is something peculiar and ostentatious to his likes.

He would be rough and tough and He would run ice cubes over the still-warm wax or tap on hardened wax, which can open up even more pleasure for him than for me. He would also try using a whip to remove the hardened wax which I scorn the most.

He said also had me trained in removing the sense of sight, increasing the sense of fucking stupid anticipation, and allowing me to focus more on the motherfucker physical sensations by adding a blindfold to his play and more creative ways to satisfy his libido. He also experimented with cold and hot by blowing on the wax as it cools to give me goosebumps or even using an ice cube to send shivers of pleasure through my body.

I attempted to kill myself one time by thinking of setting myself on flame and ill embrace him so he'll know the fires of hell but he figured out and I got the beating that nearly killed me and sent me to two months of medical confinement because he happens to do mixed martial arts for exercise. I don't even want to remember how many staining reds and bruising blues. I nearly got beaten to the pulp at that.

I'd rather suffer third-degree burns than continue living this way.

I can say over and over again that I abhor him with every fiber of my being!

if I voice that out, I am doomed like the fires of Mordor!

" he has always been the beloved one among us but he is just a wolf hiding in sheep's clothing. That's what he does best. Veneer his true identity so when the time comes, he'll devour you like a sheep that you are". He said in composure then grabbed my face to take a look at my expression.

" I wasn't! I'm just lost in the thoughts of where we are going". I didn't wince or falter in words or else hell will break loose.

A lie he easily takes in after a lot of practice.

He kissed me with fervor unmatched and grope at my breast like a dough he can play with." Good! Now go down on your fours, ass up in the air! I wish to mount my Beloved Bitch".

He says while slapping my ass cheeks.

I wipe my stray tears knowing this will be just the beginning of my sexual torture and it will end only after a few rounds of cum, sweat, and moan until he is fully satisfied and tired and let us sleep together sticky and mucky and I can't even take a piss without hissing like shit.

His pants are gone, his hands are dry humping his cock then he began stroking the ass I've grown accustomed to, proceeds to lick me, and halted at my pussy, sniffing and pressing his nose as his tongue tastes my clit.

" I'm a hungry jealous wolf. I guess it's time to play with the food first".

That's all it takes for my pussy to be slick with impending bodily fluids.

By the time I woke up, I have a familiar feeling of where we are going. It's the feeling that makes my stomach churn with happiness and anxiety.

The road we are taking is winding and homey.

I know this road is so familiar

We are going somewhere I've never thought he'd let me go. Something that would be my midsummer night's dream.

Home. Yes! Home.

Shit. Fucking Shit!

Cocksucker for sure!

This could go into different trouble if his mind went loose on screws.

And it means death.

Either by me or him or the One I hold much dear than my Life:

MOM!

This is the only time in my life I wish I can't go home to you.

I wish to end things!