scars

I still don’t own any of these characters…only their fun games in my head. Sorry for the delay, kids, got the flu flea…
hope you’re “hanging” in there, Acidic.
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When everything came back into focus for me from the black solace of a great orgasm, I realized I was
still hard. Otis was absolutely still, frozen underneath me. He seemed to be sleeping. I was determined to teach
this boy a lesson. I slapped his pale skin, raising angry welts upon it and accidentally hit his thigh. He screeched
voicelessly and began to cough. He seemed to be making a real attempt to get away now. I pulled out of him
and raked my nails down his chest. I wrapped his long hair around my clenched fist. “Oh no, fucker, playtime has
only just begun.” I reached over and grabbed one of the washcloths I had been using. With a quick jerk of his head,
the gag worked perfectly. Otis was nervous, damn near afraid at this point. His eyes were fearful and uncertain. He
was making muffled noises behind the gag. “I would keep that in there if I were you. Trust me; you’re going to
need something to bite down on later.” Otis froze and stared at me. His crimson eyes taking in everything I was
saying and it dawning on him that for once he was not in control. Dear gods, he didn’t know what to do. I suddenly
slammed myself into him. He screamed and writhed in the handcuffs. I held his gaunt face in my hands. He was
trembling and I could swear I could see his eyes tearing up. “Tell me you want it.” Otis visible recoiled. Without
thinking I slapped him hard across the face. I slammed my cock into him again making him cry into the gag. He
was scared now and, fuck, was I turned on by it. The red palm print glowed against his skin. I had gotten him close
to his eye. He sobbed, terrified at my next move. I slammed into him again relishing the scream that resulted. I
felt something warm and wet around my cock. Blood was beginning to mingle with other fluids. “Do you want it?” I demanded. Otis fixed his gaze on something across the room and slowly nodded. “I asked you a fucking
question!” I backhanded him hard and slammed his head on the wall by his throat. Otis’s eyes were brimming
tears at this point.

He looked carefully into my eyes. “Mm…hmmm.” I leaned in until my nose was touching his. For a few
moments our eyes were locked until he submissively turned his head away. I had won, I had broken him. I began
to fuck him hard, my fingers bruising his white skin.

Otis kept zoning out and each time a hard slap brought him back to me. I stroked his cock and laughed
as he tried to block it out. “You’re not going anywhere, boy. You’re here with me.” His body finally gave in and he
began to move up to meet my hand. “I knew you liked it this way.” I could feel him trembling under my touch. His
eyes seemed elsewhere. Something told me that something was wrong but it felt too good to stop. He came but
without moving, it was strange but I was enraptured. I fucked Otis for a good hour while he lay completely still. He
was just staring blankly. I came hard again, slamming into him until I had nothing else left. I laid down over his
body to rest.

There was something strange about his trembling. “Otis?” Now I was fucking concerned. He had shook
like that for over an hour, just staring and shaking. I gently took the gag out. ”Otis?” I called to him again,
stroking the hair out of his eyes. I pulled him instinctively into my arms. I had seen Otis enter into this state before.
Usually it was after he dreamed of his parents that he entered this paralysis of sorts. Then there would be weeklong
episodes of explosive rage. Gods forewarn anyone who stepped into his path during this time. He would pace the
hallway until Baby and I were at our wits end. He wouldn’t eat and wouldn’t sleep until exhaustion and necessity
claimed him. Eventually it would sink into depression and become vented into art. I sat up and pulled his lithe
frame into my arms. I gently rocked him and sheltered him near my body. “I’m here, come on. You need to come
back to me.” Now I was scared. I loved Otis, I truly did. Now he was so far inside of himself I wondered if he could
find his way out.

I spent the next several days nursing him back to lucidness. His cold had gone from bad to worse, now
sounding like a rasping noise when he breathed. Minutes became hours as I forced him to eat. Each bite was a
battle between us. I fed him meds that Grandpa had given me. I forced teas Mama made down him. Luckily after
our session Otis shied to my will. He hadn’t gained back that rebellious nature that seemed to reverberate from his
very core. Not yet, anyway. I held him close to me on those long nights. I would wrap the blankets around him and
cradle him in my arms. I hoped and prayed that he would be well again. I don’t think that I could ever take him to
the edge again or at least for a very long time.

Then it happened so suddenly. He was well and life was going on in the House again. Otis and Baby had
fled the House and I was looking at them from above. Maybe as a spirit. Otis looked haggard and seemed older…he
had lost that albino beauty about him. He looked almost demonic but yet Christ-like. Time seemed different for me.
I no longer moved around as a person...was I dead? It was then that I noticed them driving along a highway only to
be trapped by police. I watched as they made their last grand stand and the hale of bullets that felled them.
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It gets better kiddies! Thanks for all of your patience….