When They Found You On The Bathroom Floor.

Sometimes I regret forcing you to do all this, but then all guilty thoughts leave my head when the pleasure begins. Every night and sometimes all day long to your horror.

When you cry I hit you hard. You only cry more. You’re so pathetic. So beautiful. So broken.

At night I hear you sobbing and feel you shaking as you slowly rock yourself to sleep whispering to yourself how deep down I do love you but we both know that isn’t true. I claimed to love you once but that was jut so I could get what I wanted.

I slammed the bedroom door hard and you flinched and sat up, quickly wiping the sleep from your eyes.

“Why aren‘t you fucking up yet you little whore?!” I scream.

Tears begin to fill your eyes. You hate me calling you names.

I roll my eyes.

“Stop being so fucking pathetic and get dressed. Blue jeans, black hoodie, some black shoes. You know the deal, be ready for when I walk back in here, you know what happens when you aren't,” I growl and then walk out of the room and into the kitchen to pour my already brewed coffee.

When I walked back into the room you were dressed and sitting at the dressing table with your back to me waiting for me to do your hair and your makeup like always. I hated it when it wasn’t perfect and you know that so I did it.

I ran the brush hard through your hair making you wince.

I decided to be ‘nice.’

“Oh, Frankie, I wish you wouldn’t cry so much, no one likes a cry baby and you have such a pretty face, who wants to see you all puffy eyed? And you look so much more better since I made you take out those metal rings from your nose and lip. It‘s such a pity you had to graffiti your skin with those damn tattoos but I suppose there is not much we can do about that, surgery costs and I don't want my baby in pain now, would I?”

He stayed silent, scared that if he spoke I would hit him.

“Would I?” I said through gritted teeth.

“N-no?”

“Exactly. Now turn your head so I can do that makeup. You have to look pretty for when I take you out.”

“Y-you‘re taking me out?”

You sounded surprised. No wonder as I haven’t taken you out on a ‘date’ in a very long time.

“Of course, it‘s what your supposed to do when you are dating someone,” I said calmly as I began applying his red eye shadow.

I saw a glimmer of hope in your eyes.

Hoping I will go back to my old loving ways when I was that college guy you met in a bar when you were just fourteen? Who told you that you were the most gorgeous thing you had ever seen? Didn’t think that he’d be dragging you off to New York and making you stay in that vermin infested flat as his personal whore, did you?

“Where are we going?”

I slapped him hard across the face.

“Shut up, that isn’t important. You know I hate it when you ask all these damn questions!” I shouted.

The hope in his eyes was gone. Good.

Your lip began to tremble.

I gave you a look and you immediately bit into your lip.

I’m nice enough to give you a small warning not to cry because you know what will come and it won’t turn out pretty for you.

I began slicking eyeliner under your eyes. As much as I would love to poke you in the eye with this pencil I didn’t exactly want to blind you. I loved you to see the hate and the anger in my features before I hurt you.

I dropped the pencil and grabbed you wrist hard and began dragging you out of the apartment, into the elevator and out to the car. I sped off quickly to the club I knew you hated me taking you to. There was so much temptation there. Even though I hate taking you there myself because I know with those innocent doe eyes, young features of yours and not to mention how pretty you look constantly that you could get any guy in there you wanted but breaking you and making you feel so worthless stopped you from getting any ideas. You didn’t flirt, you just kept your head down and gave simple quick answers. You knew the deal too well now not to forget.

“Now, you know how to behave, don’t you?” I said.

You nodded quickly.

“Because you know what happens when you don’t, right?”

Another quick nod.

“And maybe if you are a good little boy I might even reward you.”

“C-can I ask something?” He whispered.

I huffed.

“If you must.”

“W-well, I was thinking instead of going in h-here w-we could maybe go back home and I-I could give you some special attention?”

I turned his face slowly and softly so he would look at me.

The hope in his eyes was back until I slapped him again of course.

“Little fucking slut always selling yourself out! You just wait until we get home and I‘ll fucking give you what for!”

He whimpered and I knew he would fucking cry.

“You dare fucking cry and mess up that makeup you‘ll regret it slut!”

He took some deep breathes probably to calm himself down and then turned his face to mine not looking into my eyes as always. He didn't dare. I made him during the sex and sometimes when I was angry, it made my orgasms so much more better when I could see his fear.

“You‘ll do,” I growled.

We get out of the car and I am forced to hold his hand and play the happy couple card but it’s better than staying in the apartment with that wreak.

We stayed for a long time mingling and drinking vodka.

Everyone was envious that I had the best looking guy in the club. The envy of every single man in this room and the few woman who were with there gay best friends. Why come to a gay club when you knew you couldn’t touch? Unless you were a lesbian or were straight and had such a big ego you thought you could turn every guy with just a bat of an eyelash. Pathetic.

“Can I go and use the bathroom?” He whispered in my ear. I was talking to some guys in the VIP section that I had blagged my way into. I was a real charmer when I wanted to be if I said so myself.

“If you fucking must but you better get right back here.”

You nodded quickly and then made your way through the crowds.

I knew he wouldn’t make a run for it and I could trust him but something was telling me to follow but on the other hand the guy who was sitting next to me was telling me with his hand (that was travelling up my thigh and to my crotch) to stay. So I did.

After a shitty hand job under the table I decided to see where you were.

I swung the bathroom door open and walked inside. I saw something I didn't want to see.

Crimson blood running from your wrists making pools under your hands.

I never thought he would have the guts to do this but obviously I was wrong. Very wrong.

I didn't feel upset or in the least guilty for turning you towards this. I just felt angry. You left me. I'm all alone now. And to be honest that thought scared me.

Paramedic’s rushed into the room hoping to save you but I could tell you were gone.

Hope was lost just like yours had been long ago when they found you on the bathroom floor.