Confessions of a Psychopath [bxb]

13. Shower (Smut Warning)

⚠️Mature Content⚠️ Sexual stuff later in this chapter! And we get to see how messed up Justin's mind really is🤔

Justin's POV
I had been here an entire week now as their prisoner. They didn't seem to suspect any defiance from me yet. Of course my constant erections helped me stay alive, for now. They loved to torture and pleasure me, especially Nick, the kid from school. He only kept me around to be his entertainment, always keeping me on edge. He'd kiss me all over, he loved to make me squirm, but he would never touch my dick. It had been awhile since he actually touched it. It was usually me getting him off, especially after he killed someone else. Nick definitely loved my mouth. The thought brought a small smile to my lips.

The older one, Mr Graham, I discovered was a professor at the college. He didn't want anything to do with me. In fact, he hated me. If it weren't for Nick, I would already be dead. The two of them had killed together a couple times already while I just sat and watched.

When I first woke up on the table naked, I had thought the whole thing was a joke, some weird fantasy roleplay from a client of my dads. I even believed so when Nick cut into my flesh with his knife but when the older man came down, I noticed something was wrong. Mr Graham had no interest in me and that's what made me realize they wouldn't let me leave this basement alive. They actually planned to kill me. I thought maybe my dad had sold me for the last time but Nick was unaware of my fathers abuse. It seemed weird that he would pretend to not know my dad so I could only believe he only wanted me to kill me.

Mr Graham seemed like a sophisticated man, aside from the fact that he killed sometimes. I didn't mean to say he was a good person, but he seemed like he had standards as opposed to Nick. Certain limits to his craziness that Nick did not possess. Mr Graham had no interest in defiling a boy like me. That's how I knew he was only interested in taking my life.

The two of them had placed a large collar locked around my neck that was connected to a long chain that was locked around a support beam in the center of the room. I could walk about 7 feet away from the wall but I sat in the corner instead. They didn't give me any clothes which I hated. They could see the scars from my father and the erections I'd get when I thought someone was about to beat my ass. It was an automatic response to fear that my body had developed.

It was almost as if I was conditioned by my father to tolerate the abuse. It wasn't my fault. A survival instinct. When I was still with my father, I hated every time someone touched me or hurt me. I couldn't stop my body's reaction, but my mind hated it. My buyers thought I loved it, and made it a game for themselves. It only made me hate myself even more and feel immense shame for the way my body reacted. I tried to convince myself that obeying was the only way for me to survive. If I was not entertaining enough to those who had me, I would be long dead.

Nick was like them in that sense. He found pleasure in abusing me and I had to perform in order to stay alive. In the past I eventually lost the will to live because of it. I would basically be a rag doll, hoping for things to end in any way possible. Things were different after coming to Nicks basement, though. It was as if I suddenly wanted to live. The real threat of death had awoken it in me. I also wanted to experience more of Nick. Not the pain he inflicted, but I just wanted to feel his warm touch or see his bright smile. I had been used before for my body and hated every second of my life for it. But when it was Nick requesting my touches, I felt something different. I did not feel repulsed by his touch. It was warm and inviting. I had some strange desire to make him happy.

"Hello gorgeous." Nick came into the room, shaking me from my thoughts.

Even though I hated what those men did to me, I didn't hate Nick. Why didn't I have to force myself to enjoy his touch? I liked it naturally. Was it just another survival tactic I had no control of? Maybe I secretly liked the fact that he wasn't affiliated with my father. He chose me. That thought often made me feel warm inside.