The Guard To My Sanctuary

Chapter 1

'Have you ever thought about what protects our hearts? Just a cage of rib bones and other various parts. So it's fairly simple to cut right through the mess and to stop the muscle that makes us confess.

And we are so fragile, and our cracking bones make noise, and we are just, Breakable, breakable, breakable girls and boys...'

I sang the melancholy song in my head as the aging Caucasian male plowed into me all the while I was absentmindedly responded to his questions. His wrinkling body colliding with mine produced the offensive sounds of his skins sagging skin against skin turning my stomach. I combated against the tears that challenged to spill over my waterline having long since learned that it was better to not allow them to fall out of my eyes. I couldn't give him the power to see me cry it was one of the last things I could hold onto in my cesspool of despair that I called life. Crying was one of the few decisions I could make regarding my body and sometimes even that was controlled. I had no underlying well of hope left to delve into. There was nothing left inside of me that could give me a  surge of strength needed to push on through my circumstances, I only had the pride that still remained in the corners of my mind to prop myself up on.

The balding middle-aged man had to be the hundredth guy I've been made to sleep with by my captor London, after all of the years that had gone by I didn't even get to figure out his last name or if London was even his real name. I felt the man speed up in his pace the sensations of both pain, and pleasure was so far removed from my ability to comprehend, especially in the context of the situation. I didn't even flinch as he did his damnedest to get me to make a sound, I was like a warm corpse while the man violated my body. He was sweating onto my back as I laid on my stomach wishing he would hurry up and finish into the condom. Deep down little pieces of me were siphoned away every time he thrust his hips at me shoving his subpar sized penis inside of my body. I was almost blemishless minus the tattoos London made me get, a few I was allowed to pick out others I wasn't. I knew the thought process behind it was to make me less recognizable as I aged. Who would assume a tattooed guy was a victim when he presumably had money to personalize his appearance.

He had managed to systematically ravage me, not purely in a physical manner since he had placed barriers around how I was treated. London wouldn't allow me to be violated in off the wall ways like some of my peers were. He would say I was too pretty to be with the freak crowd, the ones who were into sadistic sex acts. I was more ravaged mentally in a way I was sure would be part of me until the end of my days on earth.

His breathing picked up making him sound like he was having asthmatic issues and I knew he was close to climaxing. I continued to lie there as I felt the warm squishy liquid fill the condom and him pull out of me moaning like a little bitch at the sensitivity. He looked down at me with a smile as if he was looking for recognition of his acts; an 'atta boy' with a pat on the back but I just stared at him like I wanted to kill him and shove to condom down his throat. Which was indeed what I was feeling it was what I was always feeling but I wasn't strong enough to defend myself in that way. My body wasn't built to fight and lash out, god wasn't kind enough to give me those specific skill sets. I often wondered why he hated me even from building me physically he seemed to make me weaker than the other boys.

The man walked out after getting the hint that I wouldn't give him any praise to boost his minuscule ego. He looked like a child when a bully slaps their ice cream cone out of their hands. It was funny how the rich men who walked in my room were often more attention starved and the men who scraped together their money for ten minutes with me seemed to have higher self-esteem. He pulled on his trousers than began to leave but not before placing the five hundred dollar fee on the bed that was positioned right in the view of the open doorway within my little room. Nobody was dumb enough not to pay London his money so he didn't feel the need to take it beforehand. It was a sign of his power, letting people put the money down afterward knowing that they would be gutted if they didn't no matter how untouchable they thought themselves to be. He wanted them to basically bitch themselves without them knowing it. I was sure the man pondered just leaving my room and not paying but the consequences of doing so would be too severe for him to face especially with him being in the running for some office.