Landon opens the door and we slide inside a red-lit room.

Two naked girls kneel on the carpet, collared in black leather, heads bowed, arms bound with black cuffs, a gag hanging around each of their necks, waiting to be shoved in places

Her friend, a leggy blonde who’s at least five years older than me, licks her lips when she looks at me.

She’s beautiful and will be even more exquisite when I engrave my welts in her pale skin.

She’ll be enough for a little fun, like Landon said. Enough to stop the nightmares for one more sleep.

I start to approach her, then stop. Her face, older, mature, and a little sharp, morphs into a completely different one.

Just like in some fucked-up fantasy, her hair turns a rich brown. Her features soften, becoming smaller, more lively, more…irritating. Her pouty lips are parted, begging to be stuffed with c.ck, and a pink hue covers her .

I curse beneath my breath, turn around, and leave.

Not only the room but also the club and the street.

I walk all the way to the rocky side of the beach where a few people and couples are mingling about. I hop on a faraway rock and sit there, leaning back on my palms.

My gaze gets lost in the waves that slam against the jagged rocks in a symphony of violence.

I have always had an inclination toward brutality. Whether it’s underground fighting or inflicting sexual pain. It’s why I get along with morally black people such as Eli and Landon