Chapter 1 PROLOGUE

Deep down, you always knows when things are wrong. The soul never lies and neither does the heart. That ingrained intuition that sets off screaming alarm bells inside your head should never be mistaken or ignored. He is my erroneous mistake and I shouldn't even think about it. I unheeded the loud blatant honesty my head keeps telling me. I silenced my keen suspicion about him. I dismissed every warning, every prickle of hair on the back of my neck, every danger signs that flashed in front of my eyes.

I ignored everything.

I took notice of nothing.

And I can't blame myself for that since I listened to nothing except the throb of my cunt!

However, cunts are stupid. You cannot trust a stupid cunt. They cheat. They lie. They tell you to ignore the blinding white light of truth that shines straight in your face.

Intoxicating... that's what he is! He's delicious poison that courses through my veins and flows inside me

When he looks at me, kisses me, touches me, fucks me...

He is under my skin, makes me loathe the shallowness of my own flesh – flesh that bares the scars he made, flesh that always craves for more of him. Always more!

But my scars were already there from the moment I laid eyes on him – they just weren't visible to me just yet. But I know that he could see them. Perceive them in all their glorious colour and texture. Even taste their flavour.

I look down at my body and I am horrified by my own modifications and the reconstructions he made of me

Sadly that I could only think of sex when I'm with him. I become more aware of the foreign objects that lie partially beneath my skin when we mate. His tools on me which I had bothered to find lookalikes of in the sex store nearby, before entering my hotel room. They glint in the flicker of a candle flame and cast a bizarre silhouette on the wall. It seems like the shadow of some fantastic Lovecraft novel in a beast, and not the shadow of a weapon of destruction. And definitely, not my shadow either...

I stare at my dark reflection, at the scars where searing brand marks are found. Tracing it lightly with my fingertips. Looking at the pieces of metal he ravished my flesh with – sets of fluffy handcuffs, steel tiny balls and other unmentionable erotic toys.

But the stupid cunt grows no wiser with age, or with experience. I still feel it pulse, tighten and moisten at the thought of him. Even now after a session of flaying myself, stripping away at his artistic rendition of a woman. Still it aches when I remembers it. His attention shifts to his lips, fingers, and the exquisite stab of his hardened, lengthy and adorned cock. I draw in my breath sharply as I recall seeing him transform into an animal...a large, wild feral and vicious dog...