Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Lucian

Iwas a private person by nature. Having to keep my secret made it worse.

And being the son of Bryant Morelli… well, that sealed the deal. Any weaknesses as a boy were chased out of me by my father. The Morelli heir had to be a monster of utter perfection.

Still, despite my lifetime of privacy, part of me wanted to tell Elaine my history. I wanted to see the shock in her pretty eyes as I told her the complete Lucian Morelli story.

I wanted to see her open mouth as I told her about the very early days when Father noticed my insensitivity to pain, and how he’d tested my limits with his gritted jaw.

“Can you feel this, boy? Tell me when it hurts…”

His hand, then his belt, then the nasty cuts. The way he twisted my flesh and held me down and thumped me hard enough that it sent me flying.

I didn’t feel a thing.

Part of me wanted to. I wanted to know what it felt like to have my body so abused and broken.

He took me to the doctor, and then a specialist after him, with the threat of death if they so much as recorded my results. Their reply was quick and definite. Congenital insensitivity to pain.

My body had no concept of what hurting meant.

Father told me that it would be a sin against the Morelli name to tell a soul about my condition, even my mother. He told me that he’d be ashamed of me forever if I breathed a word of it to anyone in this world. So I didn’t tell them. I didn’t tell my mother, or my brothers and sisters, or any of my friends at school. I didn’t tell my teachers, didn’t explain a word to them why I didn’t ever cry out in sports matches when somebody crashed right into me.

It was none of their business. Nothing about me was anyone’s business.

I don’t remember how old I was when other people’s pain began to fascinate me.

Everyone’s pain began to fascinate me, but I had a particularly strong taste for pretty girls with big, crying eyes. Maybe I was twelve or thirteen. I’d long grown to rule the schoolyard by slamming my punishment out on anyone I chose, but that was mainly on other boys—rivals and losers alike. Big for my age, I enjoyed going after older boys and making them suffer.

The first girl I hurt was Bethany Fryers. I was fourteen years old. She was walking through the park after art class one day with a spring in her step, blonde hair swinging as she walked. I’d noticed her before, her gaze on me. Curious. A little intimidated.

My mouth watered at the sight of her, and my cock hardened like I’d known it to do at night for years. I had such a strong need to see her beg me to stop that it took my breath away. So I asked her to take a walk with me. And there in the bathroom of the school, I fucked her in a dirty stall. She didn’t mind spreading her legs but her eyes got wide when I covered her mouth. She squirmed in pain when I twisted her nipples. But she was wet and bucking against me. She wanted it.

I hurt her where nobody else would see it. I unbuttoned her blouse and saw her pretty nipples there, and something made me want to hurt them worse than anything else. I did hurt them. I twisted them so hard in my fingers that she whimpered, and her whimper thrilled me. It felt private somehow. Her shallow little breaths made me feel like more of a god than I’d ever known.

Instinct takes over, even at that age. Biting her felt like the most natural thing in the world. I loved the marks I left on her, so pink against her skin. I knew they would bruise and hurt her later as well as in the moment. I wanted to hurt her over and over again just to keep those marks alive on her skin.

She was older than me, probably fifteen. Her tits were a lovely shape that jiggled just right when I slapped them. It was my first fuck, and I didn’t hold back.

“Ahhh, owww. Owww. Lucian, please…”

Only it wasn’t just a cry of pain as I squeezed her and pulled her nipples. There was more in her eyes as she arched her back for me, even as she was whimpering…and then that whimpering changed to a different type of whimper.

She came from nothing more than my violence on her skin, her mouth open as she moaned for me. That was power.

“You come back here next week,” I said, referring to our next art class. “I want to see what these bruises look like. And I’m going to fuck you again.”

She knew that I’d be waiting for her, in exactly the same spot at exactly the same time.

She didn’t fight me, because she knew there would be no point. What’s more, she wanted what I dished out, wanted it so badly she never strayed from that exact path. She was meek as she followed me down the bank to our usual spot, spreading herself wide open so I could hurt her however I wanted.

Bethany Fryers was the first girl I fucked.

She was the first girl I fucked so hard it hurt her, and that thrilled me more than ever.

I was like a demon possessed as I hunted down other pretty girls I wanted to be inside of, and I found them. Found the ones who craved the sort of pain I dished out, needed it so much they’d beg me for it. I found so many of them, I lost count through the years.

Father knew about it. I think eventually one of the girls’ daddies found out about what I was doing and confronted him at Morelli Holdings.

I was scared shitless as he walked into my room one evening with that dangerous look in his eyes. I knew he knew. I could see it before he said a word.

I wondered what he was going to do to punish me, seeing as his belt would make no difference whatsoever, not like it did with my brothers. As it turns out, he didn’t punish me. He sat down on the bed next to me with a strange smile on his face.

“I always knew you’d be a strong boy,” he said to me. “Believe me, Lucian, it’s a good thing. You need to be strong in this family. I’m proud of you, Son.”

With that he was gone, and he never mentioned it again.

It didn’t matter how many people I hurt, or how many girls I touched, or how many boys I beat up until I was their ruler—he never mentioned it again.

Neither had I. Other than forging the Violent Delights club with Clark Ventana and signing Rex Halloway up for my virgin purchases, and Trenton Alto knowing way more about me than he should, I hadn’t spilled my truths to anyone.

So why the holy fuck was I tempted to spill my truths to Elaine Constantine?