Page 98 of Insidious Heart
“Porn?” Stevie asks.
“Hardcoreporn.” I nod then smirk. “I should preface this by saying there was always something off about me, something wrong that no one took the time to diagnose and treat. I hit two out of the three in the serial killer qualifications trifecta before I could talk, and my upbringing was rather textbook in terms of what the great John E. Douglas profiled for my kind, so in no way am I blaming porn of any kind for what I became. It did, however, spark some things that might have stayed dormant had I not found my father’s stash.”
My girl swallows hard, not from fear or anything else except genuine intrigue. “The cutting?”
I lift my finger and tap the side of my nose. “The magazines were full of extreme BDSM; men and women bound and gagged, men flogging them, women dressed as dominatrixes whipping their submissives. There was even a section on pet play that included people locked in cages, but what caught my eye was the bit about knife play.” I readjust myself, laying down and stretching out next to Stevie, my head propped in my hand. “I took one of the magazines, just one, put the rest back and finished cleaning before my mother realized I’d stopped. This by itself wasn’t quite enough to spark an immediate walk down that path, but it was exactly what I needed to hyperfixate and try to understand what it all meant. I was only eight, though, so it wasn’t like I hauled ass to try out what I saw on those crumpled pages.”
God, I hope I don’t totally fuck things up by sharing this shit.
I doubt anyone wants to hear about how screwed up their… fuck buddy? Lover? Stalker? Hell, I don’t what to call this thing between Stevie and I, but I’m sure my story could bring it to an abrupt end if she’s completely repulsed by me afterward.
Oh well.
“Needless to say, my curiosity was piqued, and one day it crossed over into territory I never intended to venture in.”
My girl looks at me with rapt attention, hanging onto my every word ,and for a brief second I hesitate to continue.
I’ve never had anything like what I do with Stevie, nothing that comes remotely close, and telling her all of this definitely brings rather large risks. I’m risking losing what we have, losing her completely, and worse yet, I’m risking myself by giving her just enough firsthand information on what makes a serial killer that I could become a project instead of whatever she currently sees me as. Her fascination with true crime is second to none, and learning all of this while knowing there’s more could change Stevie’s view of me, turning me into an experiment or test subject, and I’ll never admit how much I don’t want that.
Snapping in the bathroom and begging her to never leave me during a borderline panic attack was plenty in terms of vulnerability, thanks.
Unfortunately, I still feel the need to share about my past in order to give her what Stevie first gave me: pieces of a shattered life held together by razor-thin strands of thread.
“I walked in on my parents.” I don’t break her stare as I begin to tell her about how fucked up I really am. “I woke up early on a Saturday morning and knew I needed to start my chores as soon as I did in order to avoid a beating, and I started on the bedrooms. When I got to their room, I opened the door to find my mother dressed in a full body black latex suit, paddling my father—who was gagged and hogtied—with a wooden plank full of thumbtacks.”
“Oh, Victor.” Stevie gasps. “Oh, that had to be awful.”
I shrug. “It was definitely a surprise, and very weird, but I couldn’t stop watching. I watched until my mother noticed me in the doorway, and when she did, she stopped what they were doing, screamed at me, then shortly after I ran back to my room, she came in and beat me anyway. Then I almost made it a point to try to catch them again.”
“Did you?”
“Only once more. Late one night a few months later. My father was tied to the posts at the end of their bed, his ankles shackled to the coordinating legs and bent at the waist facing the mattress. He was giving a man head, one who was gagged, bound to the bed spread eagle—I later realized he was my father’s boss from work—while my mother pegged him and whipped them both with something resembling a mace.”
Feeling something I’d callshame,if I was really capable of such a thing, I drop my eyes to the comforter between us. “Funny enough, it didn’t faze me, not in the way it would most people, I think. Sure, finding my parents like that was gross, especially since I already hated them for the constant abuse, but I was able to compartmentalize what I saw. I almost removed my parents from the equation completely and focused on the technical aspect of what was happening. It only made me more curious and intrigued by the world where pleasure and pain collided, and by the time I hit puberty I was so hyper fixated on it that I started incorporating it into my—”
“When you would masturbate.”
My head snaps up to look at Stevie, surprised by her use of the word, and expecting to find her looking at me the same way the so-calledcounselorsat the home for boys did, but she isn’t. No, Stevie is looking at me without an ounce of judgment or disgust, and I believe she’s even trying to understand me in the least clinical way possible.
She’s trying to understand because she cares.
“Yeah, when Imasturbated.” I shake my head and chuckle, constantly amazed by this morbid little dove. “Not every time or anything, but it enhanced my climax if I did something to inflict pain, and I started to become aroused whenever it happened in more normal circumstances.”
“Did you ever…” Stevie chews the inside of her cheek a little as her eyes bounce between mine. “Did you everdo thatto anyone else while… having sex or whatever?”
“Are you afraid I’ll hurt you, little dove?”
She shakes her head emphatically. “I know you won’t. I just—well, I…”
I grin wide as Stevie’s words trail off. “Are youaskingme to hurt you while we fuck? Are you curious about what it would be like to have my cock buried in your pussy while I carve my name on your silky skin?”
My girl’s entire face reddens but she just shrugs.
“While I’m more than happy to explore your new kink with you, maybe you should let me answer your question before you decide you wantthatsort of experience withme.”
“I don’t think there’s anything you could tell me that would change how I feel about you, Victor. Not after everything you’ve done for me.”
We’ll see about that.“Since becoming The Harvester of Bones andsaving the worldone douche canoe at a time, I’ve harnessed the urges I always had, putting my compulsions and energy to use for good instead of evil, but it wasn’t always like that. Before Little John found me—”
