I didn’t see him until Sunday evening, our day for scheduled counseling. We didn’t talk and I was fine with that. He sat in his regular spot in the corner and I grabbed the seat on the opposite side of the circle. I was in another odd mood, this day, and it should have been pretty obvious to all of these people. They saw me often enough to know that I usually wore leather and other sorts of revealing, sparkling, and naughty clothing.

I was dressed normal that day, and it was some wonderful miracle those adults must be thinking. In reality it was because all of my wonderful naughty clothes were dirty. Now, that says something considering I have at least three weeks outfits worth of ‘naughty’ clothes, all of which I forced to buy by myself. Alas, this week was cleaning week, meaning I already only had one or two weeks worth left.

I’d been leading something of a double life this week, you could say. During the day I had school... But, Brian and I were meeting just about every night. If it wasn’t him that led me out, it was one of his friends. It was crazy, but it actually made me feel better. Even sitting Indian style in this shitty metal chair, wearing loose black jeans and a tight t-shirt and my poor hair damp and tied up in a moment of haste. I felt good.

There was also a bit of surprising ‘tragic’ news, issued to us lovely loonies by some nerdy man. Our counselor was in the hospital with influenza. That made me grin. My week couldn’t get any better. There was however, a small sad fact in that. This nerdy man. He was the replacement. He was here “to make sure you have a shoulder to cry on.”

I wanted to laugh. To laugh so hard, that I did need that shoulder to cry on.

When the man, had to be in his late thirties with pink braces, turned to the supposed to be giggle-boy. He was addressed as junior and asked his name, age, and why he was here. Which was obvious; he tried to commit suicide. I couldn’t help but giggle.

“Cain Lorelei, fourteen, and attempted suicide.”  

He sounded so shy and the smile didn’t help his case any. It was one of those wussy, “please don’t hurt me” smiles. They drive me crazy. The words though, struck me a bit more than the smile. I realized, quietly, that I should have known his name this entire time and that the chances were, he knew mine. Every Sunday I heard his name and not once did I remember it... sad.

Not that such a small thing could bring me down from my current high on Brian. I did however make a note to remember that giggle boy was Cain, whether or not I would remember such was a completely different thing.

The nerdy dorky man, asked Cain a few questions, most of which were incredibly stupid. The conversation went something similar to...

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue?”

“Do you like Marilyn Manson?”

“No... I don’t think?”

All with Cain answering quietly, smiling, but obviously confused with what the counselor was getting at. I couldn’t help but grin at the Marilyn Manson question though. I could have fun with this. I could give the poor man a heart attack. I also could possibly earn myself a few more months of counseling.

After a few more pointless questions, the man decided the kid wasn’t too suicidal, and asked why he tried to do such. The answer was actually something I agreed with and all so simple, “Why shouldn’t I?”

That caused the counselor a mini-heart attack and I laughed from my spot a few measly feet away from him. Oh yes, the people around me were already aware that the aliens had taken over, so their strange looks and whispers were completely disregarded.

After a few minutes lecture and Cain meepishly agreeing he wasn’t going to kill himself today, though there was an argument with promising he wouldn’t kill himself this week... The counselor moved on to the next victim some poor young lady.

With nothing to do, I settled for tossing a wink towards the still awkwardly blushing Cain and followed it up by opening my mouth and wiggling my tongue at him.. He obviously wasn’t use to my flirtatious good moods, because he withered in his seat, blushing.

But I was feeling good. I liked feeling wanted, and so I was thrusting myself at him, knowing he wouldn’t discard me because of my odd mood swing. The feeling wouldn’t last though, Brian would have a full schedule starting next week, and so this feeling would be gone by then.

Deciding Cain was no fun, the horrible innocence that he is, I just shifted in my seat, watching the counselor not working his magic and making people cry. A couple times I would add some spicy harmful words, and the counselor would scold me, saying if I kept it up I would be sitting in the hall way.  I giggled.

Perhaps... someone had slipped something in my drink this morning? Probably Brian him being the loveable evil bastard that he is.

Whatever way, the third time he warned me, I pouted and sulked. And so I applied what make up I had with me. I wish I’d brought a purse full, even though I didn’t actually have a purse. But, I did have an eyeliner pencil, a tube of eye shadow, and lipstick. When I asked to go to the bathroom, I think the man was actually happy to let me go. Of course, he was shocked when I returned with dark eyeliner on, blue eye shadow, and red lipstick. I just grinned and took my seat. 

By the time the counselor got to me, I felt like I was on drugs; I wanted to bounce around the room. The man, still sitting in his cushioned chair while I sat in my uncushioned chair, looked at me. And I looked back at him. Bitch.

“Do you want to know my damn name or not?” I finally snapped.

“I supposed that be a start.”

“Adam Maxwell, aged seventeen, here because I tried to blow my fucking brains out but I’m not very smart with a gun.” I grinned, oh yes the fun starts.

“What’s your favorite color?” He asked, eying me like I was the crazy person I am.

“Blood red.”

“Do you like Marilyn Manson?”

“Oh yes. He is one fucking beautiful fuckable man.”

After he calmed down from his second heart attack today, he continued, “What do think of the president?”

“He’s a homophobic bitch.”

I think the man by then, was starting to realize I was toying with him, that or he was just trying like hell to calm his nerves so he could write properly. Hopefully my old counselor would disregard his notes if I told him I was having a really bad day and our counselor was a bitch.

And so he went on, asking me if I did drugs, had any diseases (bitch!), had abusive parents, ever been raped… It all served to make me pissed off at him, but gave me more of a chance to play with his mind. So by the time counseling was up I was generally feeling crazy, while I usually just felt suicidal. 

I think in the end I was grateful for my horrible attitude, because thanks to me, we were released a few minutes early. I left the building in my usual haste, not bothering to look back and not sparing a thought to Cain as I left; after all, I could hear thunder, I didn’t much care to hang around and get rained on. We hadn’t talked the entire session, I expected no differently now.

Once I exited the building I was greeted with an image that made me both forget my name and remember the name of the loveliest man in America. Right in front of the buildings exit, right on the side of the street and in front of a no parking sign, was the lovely man of my dreams. Who just spared me a very long walk home with the possibility of rain seeing as my father had once again forgotten to pick me up.

In my shock, I was slow to actually get in the car, but once I did I was met with one pair of very welcoming lips. And a tongue. Decidingly, we wasted a few good minutes in the no parking zone, while I tried my best to swallow his tongue.  We eventually parted, both breathing a bit heavy from the sheer intensity of the kiss.

“Fuck, I love you,” I panted, sinking back into the passenger’s seat. Even though I was on a high, a little aroused really knowing what usually went with a kiss like that, I still noticed the fucking obvious flicker of pain across his face. Yes, I am a complete asshole. 

He must have noticed me gasping like a fish, trying to find something to say to fix my words, because he gave me a small forced smile, my red lipstick smudged onto his own lips. “I suppose I should kiss like that more often. Maybe one day my godly kisses will win you over.”

  I chuckled, a sheepish uneasy sound. “It could happen,” I replied deciding to act a bit coy about the subject. I’m pretty sure he likes me acting coy; he also likes the teasing. I was left to thoughts of what going-ons would start once we arrived at my house; especially once we were on the road there. I was honestly feeling a bit giddy.

My week couldn’t possibly get any better; at least, that was what I was thinking when Brian parked his car at my house. Did I mention his car is godly? It’s one of the those little sports cars. You know, the kind that usually cost half a million by the time everything is added together? Yea.

Being the true gentleman Brian was, hell still in his black suit, he walked around and opened the door for me. I think it was then, when I was getting out, he first really noticed my attire. He raised a blond brow, but slipped an arm around my waist, already escorting us both to the house.

“All of my nice clothes are dirty,” I explained, with something of a sigh. “I need to wash clothes but I’m always coming or going and never here long enough.”

I paused just inside to lock the door behind us, once I turned back around though, Brian effectively pinned me against the door. It was probably a good thing my parents were never home.

“That’s fine,” He said huskily, nipping at my neck in lazy, teasing manner. “For what I have in mind, there is no requirement for any clothes.”  I felt the refreshing feel of moisture on my neck, as he moved to suck on that particularly alluring spot, right over a vein.

I moved my hands over his back, one climbing up into his styled tresses of beautiful blond. I purred as he sucked on my neck; he was doing that in such a rough manner I knew he was quite intending to make sure there was a mark. After all, I was his.

Before withdrawing, he bit down on my tender flesh, and had I not been expecting such I would have jerked away. He always did love leaving bite marks on me. I found it romantic in some freakish way. I would have said something sarcastic though, had his lips not silenced me. Oh, but it wasn’t just his lips. He had a remarkable tongue and he always did the naughtiest things with it. I love his tongue.

While he was busily fucking my mouth with his tongue, hips grinding together oh so nicely, his hands were already creeping towards the tie in my hair and before I knew it the entire mass were down again. Bastard and his obsession with my hair... he loved pretty things. But I wasn’t thinking of that. I was more concerned with him and his tongue that was half way down my throat.

He relented, though, pulling away from my lips and starting back on my neck. Breathing a bit heavy, having forgotten for a moment to breathe. Gingerly, one of his knees pushed my legs apart, sliding nicely right between them and up against me. I groaned quietly, finally leaning back against the door with my full weight, my head thrown back against it as well only allowing the beautiful boy further access to the flesh.

Another torture of a break was called for though, as he pulled my shirt up and over my hair, generally tangling my long hair in the process.  He tossed the cloth item in whatever direction was behind him and continued his assault on my body; this time my nipple fell victim to his teeth. Another hushed groan escaped my throat as he bit down on one nipple just a little to hard, but I was too aroused too much mind any pain he bestowed upon my body.

Brian teasingly traced over the bulge behind the denim, before cupping it in his palm, squeezing gently. Moaning and breathing a good deal faster now, I arched forward, bluntly wanting something more. It didn’t come though; he was smirking, as he neglected my erection, withdrawing to busy himself unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans. He left me to kick off the pants, underwear, shoes and socks, while he dragged his attention elsewhere; like biting and licking at my navel. He traveled back downwards with his tongue though and my cock twitched in something of a plea. He skipped right over it, teasingly, placing a few kisses and nips on my inner thighs. Bitch.

His treatment of teasing and pleasing continued for a few moments and many gasps and half moans later, never bothering to touch my erection other than by ‘accidental’ brush of a hand or tongue. Bitch... but he was obviously too horny to prolong my torture any further because I was forced to my knees, on the cold floor, in front of the fully clothed man. I had half a mind not to do anything. However, master always gets what he wants. The exact reason he’s not naked with me.

Graciously, the man took his belt off for me, carefully placing it on a nearby table. But he left the other obstacles to me, the evil bastard. But with much practice at this, I took control of this mini situation. I unbuttoned the pants with my teeth, which was not an easy thing and was actually a bit of luck, and then teasingly dragged the zipper down with my teeth, making sure to graze over his dick in retaliation for all of his teasing. And I just let his pants and underwear fall to his ankles, knowing he was just going to pull them back up after everything.

Faced with the real problem of everything, I just glared at his arousal, silently blaming it. Actually, this close... I huffed a huge sigh of cool breath against the heated organ. I grinned. This time again, I blew a heavy and exaggerated breath, contently watching Brian’s reaction for a second, before nuzzling at the problem, purring.

Finally, before Brian killed me, I tentatively licked at the tip of his cock, deciding playtime was over. A hand curled in my hair at the very action, so I continued on, gently swirling my tongue around it, tasting pre-cum as much as I didn’t want to. Slowly, though the hand pushing on the back of my head didn’t like that, I took him in my mouth completely. I didn’t need to look up to know Brian was enjoying this treatment, and I slid back away from him, before sliding forward again, this time, I took everything. By then I didn’t need to see Brian; I could hear him. He was panting, now, these odd little pants of pure arousal, bits of sweat probably rolling down, eyes closed in ecstasy, even... ending that there.

It’s probably a good thing I lost my gag reflex a long time ago. Brian really was horrible at self-control; he was thrusting forward and his hand was fucking pulling my hair. I had half the mind to bite little Brian for it, but I was really too softhearted for that... Ne’er do I mind the rough treatment all that much...  It didn’t take long for him to cum, not in his state, and when he did cum, with the tip of his cock at the back of my throat. I choked on the nasty fluid.  I mind you that I hate swallowing. Brian usually leaves no choice, like this time. 

Currently not concerned with his state of bliss, I sat back on the carpet, sticking out my tongue and making the most horrible face. I really do hate Brian sometimes. He is the most inconsiderate lover. And it’s not all right; I don’t care if he can’t control himself. I despise it.

Imagine my surprise when he actually, just minutes after a blowjob, finished unclothing himself, taking off everything. My eyes narrowed, watching him suspiciously. I was still mad, after all. In my distrusting pause, he gingerly tossed the tie around my neck, using it like one would a dog leash.

“Come on kitty, I’ll make it up to you,” He said, his tone as husky and as sexy as ever. I usually replied to things like that. It was the belt in his hand that made me pause again.

Now I’ll tell you rather forwardly, that Brian has never laid a harming hand on me, at least, not a harming hand that I didn’t want. It’s his friends that are into the kinky stuff, the sm, bd, and all of that. Brian and I have a soft, master and slave thing going on you could say. Brian is well aware he’s the master and I’m just as aware that I’m the slave. That’s perfectly fine. He ties me up, I play coy, I call him master, I blow him when he wants and do what he wants me to, and he fucks me. It’s all good fun and games.

 However, I still have a scar from one of his friends, when I apparently had been a bad little slave or something along those lines. So should Brian want kink...

“Relax,” He’s saying, tugging on the tie-made-leash. Finally, mindlessly, deciding I trust Brian enough, I follow him. I am the bitch slave anyway. Come one, come all. Bitch slave here, free blowjobs.

Sniffing in offense, I followed him up the stairs to my own room of which I have and will be defiled in many times. Unsafely back in my room, the door is shut behind us and Brian drags me towards the bed, accidentally (or better be) choking me once with the tie. And before I know it, both of my hands are bound to the bedpost. Suddenly, kitty leash becomes kitty gag. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I hate you horny Brian.

I admit it. It’s horrible. It’s uncomfortable. It’s completely embarrassing and so degrading... but it is kind of arousing. Being forced to do all this, even though I complain, I think Brian knows I honestly like things like this. Rough, impersonal, and everything wicked.

Foreplay was all but skipped this round, I had to hand it to Brian he was easily the horniest rich person I’ve ever met and had the pleasure of being fucked by. He grazed his teeth over my already bruised neck, biting down at my collar bone, before dragging his tongue downwards. Swirling his tongue around a nipple, dipping it in my navel, licking a line from my dick to my neck. That was the foreplay.

With that, he tossed one of my legs onto his shoulder, and without the least bit of preparation or lubrication, thrust his cock into me. Probably a good thing I had the gag and was bound to the bed, because I would have fucking hit him otherwise. But the pain faded, simply because need was numbing any other reasonable senses. The bitch didn’t even give my poor body a moment to get use to his rude intrusion either.

But that’s not to say it wasn’t pleasurable. It was still godly. Any sex with Brian is godly. And any reasonable thoughts went out the window, when he slammed his cock against the particular place and suddenly I was really hard to breath and my body tingled it felt so good. Torn between crying and moaning, I just rocked in time with his thrusts, and when he deftly grabbed at my own erection pumping it in time with his thrusts, I decided he was a godly lover.

It ended for too soon though and suddenly my vision was white. Only a few seconds later and Brian collapsed on top of me, his softening dick still in me. With hazy eyes, he removed my gag, and kissed me full on the lips, and my tongue didn’t mind coming out to meet him. Fuck, am I torn between loving him and hating him.

Slowly, lazily, he went about untying me, before finally withdrawing from me and rolling off of me to lie beside me. I almost missed the feeling... It’s nice to feel complete, even if it’s only for one good fuck. Quietly, I rolled over to face him, just so I could settle my sleepy head on his chest, never minding the mess of stickiness around us. With his eyes closed, he didn’t say anything, just semi-wrapped an arm around me, that hand distractedly petting my ebon tresses.

And we fell to sleep like that, with both of us sticky and sweaty.

Once I woke up though, some hours later, I was alone and sweetly enough, cleaned of most all stickiness. I didn’t have to look to know he had left me and I didn’t have to look to see that he had left some sum of money on the pillow his head was supposed to be occupying. And it pissed me off.

I love him and I hate him, but never will I seriously tell him I love him. Not while he treats me like a slut instead of a lover. I have too much pride for this shit... or at least, I wish I did. So I ignored the money and focused on the fact he brought up my clothes. Thank god. If by some miracle either of my parents came home... Fuck it.

I slid on my denim jeans not even bothering to put on anything under them or anything to cover my chest. I was sulking. Quietly, I wandered downstairs, intending to see if by any ghost of a chance he’d left something... or maybe was still here. Last step now.

“Why do you do that?”

Fuck! Heart attack central! But... For an instant, a clumsy instance, I thought it was Brian; that he had stayed. Of course, it was a silly notion that might just never happen. However, the fact that Cain was in my house was unnerving.

“How the fuck did you get in?” I snapped, any hints of my earlier good mood gone with Brian.

Cain gave a small smile, the one that seems to be forever on his lips, “I’d been sitting on your doorstep for an hour and some and when your friend was leaving he let me in. Brian stayed and talked to me for a minute.”

I hate him. He’ll stay and talk to a kid, but he won’t stay and talk to a man he says he loves? I hate him. Suddenly distracted I set off in search for the pack of cigarettes in my book sack. Thank god it was downstairs. I needed it now. Quickly lighting it, in full chain-smoker mode, I started my long drags. I needed to get royally smashed tonight.

“Did he say anything of interest?” I asked between puffs of smoke, mentally repeating with each puff that I hate Brian.

“He loves you.”

“Fucking liar.” I retort it with all the spite I feel towards Brian, easily forgetting I’m talking to a fourteen-year-old kid. “He told me that too, that fucking bitch. He only fucking says it so he’s guaranteed an ass to fuck.”

Cain honestly doesn’t seem fazed by me and replies quietly, “If that’s all his love is... then do something about it.”

He’s so many years younger than me, but so fucking wise. It’s not hard to see what I should do, but it is fucking hard to do.  Easily enough, his calm words defuse any of my ferocity that was. Burnt out all that quickly and simply, my fragile walls of glass fall to the floor. 

“But I want him to keep coming back and I want him to keep telling me all those pretty lies,” I reply in something of a whisper. Because it’s so fucking stupid and so fucking unreasonable.

And Cain finished me off, with an even voice and down cast eyes, saying, “Because you love him.”

“I hate him.”  The tone accompanying words should have been venomous, but they weren’t.  Had one missed one particular word, one would think I was agreeing, though a little tired.

I was tired.

Not physically, no, I had just woken up. Mentally, however, was an entirely different thing...

Cain was obviously unsure of what to do with himself, so he just stood there, awkwardly shifting and fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Quietly, just as hesitant, I watched him. Taking notice of the scabs and bruises still littered across the small bits of pale skin visible and that he was wearing a long sleeved shirt for some obvious reasons.

Having no quarrel with the silence, I continued my observations, too stubborn to think about what he wanted me to. I found his clothes cute today. A dark blue sweater that was too big for him, a pair of flare blue jeans with a loosely worn rainbow belt, and a cat collar around his neck. Curiously, I could see his toes peeking out behind the end of the flared denim, so I’ll assume he lost his shoes and bag at the door, and his toes were curling in and out in what I can only guess was nervousness and much on purpose, seeing that he was looking downwards.

His hair was tamer today.

Much tamer. I can’t say he spent long on it, but it was brushed well enough and possibly even a little gel placed in the furry mass.

“You know where the key is, right?” I asked. And with that the silence was no more.

I got the reply I want, a nod of Cain’s head, which brought a grin to my lips. Quietly, I brushed a hand over his calm tresses of gold. “You can let yourself in any time.”  I only vaguely realized what I was doing, but I was too flattered by the fact that he was actually listening to me to care. 

And he listened. For a quick second, he parted his lips, obviously intending to speak. He thought for a moment, and then pursed his lips in something of a pout, before rewarding me with a small smile. “Thanks.”

It was such a small word, but used so often today... that it rarely met anything. Cain, though, used it when he meant it. I was slowly finding out, he didn’t lie. He might not tell the whole story, but he didn’t lie either. I could definitely appreciate that.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. I waved a dismissing hand at him, before motioning towards the living room. “Care to waste an hour killing our brains?”

Apparently, he found my words amusing because he chuckled, grinning brightly and bounding off to the couch. I had asked for it...