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- The Sadist, The Masochist | Drama Story by Gina Sundsby | Inkitt
- Sadist confession stories and sins
- The Sadist, The Masochist
Happy-go-lucky, outgoing and intelligent, Shirley seemed very likeable. He also appeared honest and open. We had no idea what that facade really hid. One evening, as we all shared a drink together, he told us frankly that he had been in prison. Richard and I were surprised. But we were too polite to pry and simply assumed that it was for some non-violent crime such as shoplifting. Now, we could kick ourselves for being so trusting. Richard in particular blames himself, and that destroys me.
One of the things I love about him is that he's kind, generous and eager to see the best in people. We met at Gatwick Airport when we were both flying to Spain on holiday with separate groups of friends 23 years ago. Richard offered me a stick of chewing gum and we've been together ever since, having five children together; Kyle, 20, two other sons aged 19 and nine, and daughters now 12 and I found him sitting at my kitchen table.
He pulled out a knife and said: We had known Mark Shirley, 39, for around six months when, in January , he was arrested for drink-driving and, because he was still on parole for murder, was sent back to prison. It was then that Karen learnt the truth when the probation service explained that he was a killer who had been released on a life licence. Devastated, Karen ended the relationship there and then. But she was too embarrassed to tell us why. I can't blame her. I'd probably have done the same.
But her decision has destroyed my life.
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In fact, we'd virtually forgotten all about Mark Shirley when, in November , Karen went away for the weekend. As usual, I kept an eye on her house, but when she got back she discovered that her laptop was missing. Unbeknown to us, Shirley had been released from prison four months earlier, again on parole. He has since boasted that he was actually in the house when I arrived to check on it, deciding whether this would be the moment he'd strike.
It chills my blood. However, he only stole the laptop, before disappearing. But, of course, we had no clue that he was back in our neighbourhood, so we were stunned when he turned up on our doorstep on March 12 last year. Richard and I had been to the supermarket and were staggering up the drive with bags when we saw Shirley crouched beside the front door. He explained that he had arranged with Karen to pick up the motorbike he'd left in her garden. He even listened patiently while Shirley poured out his sorrows, explaining how much he loved Karen and was devastated that she had ended their relationship.
If anything, Richard felt sorry for him. Sure enough, the next day Shirley turned up in Karen's garden to retrieve his motorbike, waving cheerily at me. I assumed that was the last I would ever see of him. How wrong I was. Friday, March 20, , started like any other normal day, with a mad scramble to get the children off to school. Richard left as usual for his job with a building company.
The Sadist, The Masochist | Drama Story by Gina Sundsby | Inkitt
He works extremely long hours and I knew I wouldn't see him again until the evening. I did the school run with my younger children then, back home, I made myself a cup of coffee and dragged the vacuum cleaner upstairs to start my housework. My kitchen and dining room are open plan, leading onto a conservatory, and it was eerily dark.
The blinds were all drawn. I knew I hadn't touched them. And there, sitting at my kitchen table was Mark Shirley. His skin was a sick grey colour, he reeked of alcohol and his eyes were staring at me. It was like looking at a completely different man from the charming supermarket assistant I'd been introduced to all those months earlier.
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My voice was tight with fear as I asked him what he was doing. When I asked why he'd drawn my blinds, he grinned at me. That hideous smile scared me more than anything. Fighting to keep control, I told him that he must leave, as I had to go out. That's when he snapped. He looked so menacing, I didn't dare argue. Then, as he sat down at the other end of my table, he began telling me how he had once murdered a woman. He had stalked Mary Wainwright for weeks, before breaking into her flat and subjecting her to hours of torture.
I felt sick with terror. Then he grabbed a flickknife from his pocket and started brandishing it in my face. My blood ran cold. I knew in that instant that in his twisted mind I had become Mary and he was going to reenact every second of his horrific fantasy on me. It was like being trapped in a maniac's nightmare.
Sometimes I hate myself for what I did. I wish I had fought, but I expect most mothers would do the same. Whatever I endured was worth it to save my children from the pain of losing their mother. My children's faces swam before my eyes. I imagined them waiting in the playground for a mother who never turned up.
I saw them bursting in through the door, laughing and chatting and then seeing my butchered body. I'm convinced that's what saved me. For the next four hours, Shirley subjected me to things I can hardly bear to remember, let alone repeat.
Sadist confession stories and sins
He ripped my clothes off and used his knife to slash my bra. I'm such a private person, I even undress in the dark, but now this monster was stripping me like a slab of meat. He'd planned the attack scrupulously. To cover his tracks, he even used my mobile to send himself texts, so that it would appear he wasn't with me that afternoon.
Over and over he called me Mary. He ran the knife up and down my body. I was in hell. It was like lying on an operating table, waiting for the surgeon's first cut. He had slung his open rucksack against my fridge. Inside I could see more knives and a circular cutter. I knew they were meant for me. And all the time Shirley kept maniacally muttering to himself that he needed to work out which way he should cut me so that I would smell as sweet as Mary.
My stomach churned when he told me he had cut her face to shreds. He raped me four times and abused me with the knife. I cannot describe the agony. Then he lay on top of me and sniffed my skin. She sends Mitchell to therapy but little does she know the therapist is a Dom.
Spencer has lived with his brother for the past two years. His parents were brutally murdered when he was 13 and he was forced to watch them be tortured. He had no idea What would you do if your love of life says. Dominating the Bully MxM Polyamor Jaxon Hughes is an out of the closet nerd. What is a surprise is that he doesn't take crap from bullies, especially not from one of the hottest guys i Book Two of the 'Love Through His past continues to haunt him even though his life now i He could still feel the hard rim forming fresh scar tissue on his pale skin.
He swallowed and locked his palm over the fresh wound. He had cut deeper than he intended to. He would have to head home now; there was no way he could attend another class like this. Just then he heard vague footsteps, and he immediately pulled down his sweater to cover his wounds.
To his surprise he saw the white haired teen approach him. He stared over at Bianco with accusing eyes. No one was supposed to interrupt him during this. There was something about his eyes that made Nero uneasy yet again. They were unmoving and scary. Bianco ignored the tone in his voice however, and walked up to him like it was the most normal thing in the world.
He had hoped his little accident would go unnoticed. He could feel the other teens eyes on him. He looked up at Bianco with harsh eyes. Now leave me alone please?
The Sadist, The Masochist
His throat felt dry. All the restlessness the razor had just removed came welling up in him like adrenaline. Bianco slowly bit his bottom lip. As if the other teen enjoyed his weakness. A strange anger suddenly dwelled inside him, and he stood up in a fury. Without warning he felt a jolt of pain hit his gut, and Nero fell to the ground.
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It took him a few second to recognize the pain spreading across his face. He gasped for air as blood gushed from his nose. Bianco grabbed his collar and forced him from the ground and pushed him up against the cold brick wall. Nero coughed confused as he stared back into the white heads deep black eyes. I was only showing some compassion to a pain addict like yourself.
Bianco narrowed his eyes coldly and Nero felt a strange fear rush through him. Bianco reached for his back pocket and Nero watched him nervously. He felt his hand ache and shiver with pain. He was sure he was bleeding quite a lot by now. The raven haired teen quickly pulled away and stared terrified at the sharp blade. It would look good, no? His voice was distant somehow; sounding like a whistle.
Nero could only stare perplexed at the blade coming dangerously close to his face. Bianco watched him silently. Nero felt deeply disturbed and hurt. He felt warm liquid drip from his fingertips, but he could only sit still and sob quietly. He heard the other teen stand up and walk towards him. Bianco carefully touched his hair and Nero flinched nervously. Then he tried soaking up the blood coming from his nose. Nero sniffed again and again and let the white head clean up his messed up face.
Like a child that had just tripped on his face in kindergarten. Bianco gave him a strange smile; arching an eyebrow. The way you did in class. But he refused to let the other teen treat him like a sorry brat. Instead a brief smile crossed his face as he finished cleaning up his face. He froze still like he had done in the classroom, unable to pull away. It felt completely different from kissing a girl. Not that he had kissed many girls, but the few he had kissed had thick soft lips which felt like pushing your face against a pillow. He then regained his senses and felt repulsiveness well up inside him.
Nero forcefully pushed him away.