"…I did break. Into a million, tiny little pieces. And the only person there to pick up those pieces and put me back together was the very same person who shattered me in the first place."

Two years after being kidnapped by Damien, Alex has finally learned to accept his new life as the man's "pet" and submit to him completely. His life is easy as long as he follows the rules. But when Damien changes the rules of the games he plays, will Alex be able to handle it? Or will he have to do something drastic to finally escape the pain?

Warnings: Rape, Graphic sexual content (anal, oral, use of toys, BDSM, etc.), Homosexuality (m/m), Underage sex, Torture, and Harsh language.

Enjoy ;)

"Oh, Alex…?" A voice calls for me in a teasing tone from the living room.

I've just finished the dishes and the voice sends a flutter of anxiety through my stomach. I dry my hands on a towel quickly and practically scamper into the room like an eager puppy. Once again I find myself wondering what happened to me? Where did my fight go? My unwavering determination to never give in? But I remember what happened to it as soon as I see the man lounging on the couch, smiling that smile: he happened.


I immediately want to please him, to make him satisfied and sated. I will do anything to make him happy with me. Because when Damien is happy, I'm not hurting.

I walk over to him ardently and crouch beside the sofa, lying my head down on his firm chest and looking up at him with my big innocent eyes that he says he loves so much.

"Yes?" I ask softly, smiling up at him sweetly. He smiles widely and brings his hand up to stroke my tousled brown hair gently.

"You're so cute, baby," he says softly, his other hand coming up and rubbing my neck. I make a content sound and nuzzle into his touch, making him pleased at my reaction to his affections. He chuckles.

"Want to fool around?" He asks huskily.

My body goes through the usual flood of emotions: dread, disgust, hate. I feel the nausea rise and my face blush slightly. But he doesn't see any of this, he only sees what I let him see: my well perfected act of coyness, my shy smile that he loves, the way I lower my bright green eyes and bite my lip temptingly. I nod, plastering a look of want in my normally empty eyes.

He has sucked the life right out of me, but I'm able to use that to my advantage. Pretending to feel emotions isn't so hard when you have no real ones left inside of you to feel. I've been trained to act how he wants me to act, to want what he wants me to want, to love the things he does to me, even if I secretly hate it all; I'm his puppet, his perfect little doll, existing only to be manipulated and played with by him.

Damien. This is my life now, I'm all his.

I crawl into his lap and straddle him, arching myself against him, rubbing my crotch against his, and lean down to kiss him. He wraps his arms around me possessively and pulls me closer, deepening our passionate kiss. Our mouths explore one another, our tongues dancing a well practiced dance of desire. I moan against his lips and he nips mine playfully.

"God, you're so fucking sexy, baby," he growls, kissing down my jaw to my neck and sucking on it, giving me one of his trade mark hickeys. I grind my smaller body against his large one and moan again, knowing exactly what noises to make to please him.

"Damn," he hisses, grabbing a fistful of my hair and turning my face back up to claim my lips again.

He's in a rough mood today, I can tell by the way his teeth scrape against my mouth clumsily and his fingers dig into my hip painfully. I relax my body and mentally prepare for the pain, knowing he'll use me up and exhaust my body tonight, like he does most of the time. I hope he's not in a violent mood, but I won't be able to tell that until we're in the heat of the moment. If he is, I know I will be hurting tomorrow, but it will be a good hurt; if he's happy and I'm hurting, it's not so bad. It's when he's mad and I'm hurting that's not good; when he's mad I'm always punished severely. But he's taught me well. I do everything I can to make him happy, even if it means degrading myself and bending to his every whim, no matter how embarrassing or painful that may be. He hardly ever gets mad at me anymore.

This is my life now. He is my everything.

We play on the couch for a few minutes, his hands wandering across my body, and me playing my part well by moaning and panting like a desperate lover, until he slides me off of him and stands me up. I whimper in disappointment and he chuckles, enjoying my display of desperation to be touched by him. I pout my lip out and make a frustrated whine as he sits up. He grins at me as he stands up, towering over me, and cups my cheek in his big hand.

"You want me bad, don't you boy?" He growls huskily.

I nod fervently and lean into him, wrapping my thin arms around his waist and burying my face in his chest, breathing in his familiar scent; a scent that used to make me sick, but now brings me a strange comfort. He chuckles again, darkly.

"Well you'll get it soon enough, be patient my little pet," he says softly, stroking his hand down my back.

I shiver at his words and touch. When he calls me that I usually end up tied up, bound and gagged, tormented endlessly through the rest of the night. But I don't show my fear or dread. Instead I moan seductively and rub myself against him. His body shudders and I'm amazed yet again at the effect I have on him, but unfortunately I know it's not any kind of power I can hold over him; instead it's power he holds over me.

He pulls me off of him and leans down, gently brushing my chin length hair back to whisper in my ear.

"I'm going to smoke real quick. Go ahead and get ready for me in bed, my little slut." He straightens and looks down at me, meeting my heavy lidded eyes with his dark hungry ones.

I stare up at him and lick my lips innocently, making him groan in anticipation. I know exactly what to do to get him worked up, just how he likes. He gives me a gentle shove towards the bedroom and I walk away slowly, swaying my hips slightly and looking over my shoulder at him playfully.

Someone watching us would think that I truly liked the things he does to me and how he makes me feel, but the cruel reality is that I hate myself for acting like this. I want to scream and cry and throw up and tell him how I really feel, that his touch makes my skin feel like it's being burned and that his words make my chest feel as if there's a knife being shoved in deeply, but I don't. I learned my lessons.

My body was wracked with pain for over a year before I finally succumbed to him completely. I like to think I put up a good fight, that maybe he actually thought about giving up on breaking me once or twice, but I'll never know if he did or not. Because I did break. Into a million tiny little pieces. And the only person there to pick up those pieces and put me back together was the very same person who shattered me in the first place. So he was able to build me back up exactly how he wanted me to be: obedient, well-behaved, loyal, needy.

He taught me to crave his touch, whether it be good or bad, to love his hands on my young body, and want him near me all the time. He made me to not be able to function without him, to have to rely on him so fully that I'm a mess when he's gone. If he leaves me, I panic, fearfully wondering when he'll return. Deep inside the shell of who I once was, my true self is still there and he's disgusted by this new boy, this needy, pitiful, pathetic excuse for a human being. I scoff at myself when I cry when he leaves me to run an errand and I hate the horrible feeling of loneliness that arises as I watch him drive away. It would be during this time that I should contemplate escaping, running away as fast as I can, back to my parents that he kidnapped me from two years ago, but I don't. Instead I curl up in his bed and feel lost until he returns. Then I throw myself at him like a love starved child, begging for his affection and craving his touch as if my life depended on it as soon as he walks through the door.

I'm ruined. But, this is my life now, with Damien, being his loyal little slave.

I don't have to think about anything except how to please him. There's no school, homework, or bullies to worry about, no friends to keep, or tests to struggle with. There's only one thing in my world that matters: Damien.

My life is so simple here with him. I wake up and he tells me what to wear, what to eat, what to do. I would do anything for him. I feel like I've lost myself and I guess I have, but that part of me is long gone. The only part of me that survived is just for Damien.

He's my everything now.