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Description
Not another analysis

And yet, I didn’t want him.

True, I have no qualms about my antics with the men of the guard – but wonder boy? No, I didn’t desire him; I didn’t want Jak. Now I have time to reflect on it I wonder why anyone ever thought I did? The guards are different, play toys, fuck-buddies, slaves to my whim.

But Jak?

I’d never seen a prisoner hold out for so long. I kept pushing him down during those two years, trying to break him because I wanted to and needed to. But no matter what I did, he just keep coming back up. I learnt a lesson there, in that dank cell.

I hated it – but at the same time I was obsessed with it.

I wanted dominance, I wanted to crush him and tear him apart because doing that was the only thing that kept me breathing. Oh, they say my loyalty is legendary – if not to the Baron then at least to my title. But I don’t care about that, I covet my rank because it keeps me safe and it lets me do what I need to do – lets me kill who I needed to kill.

Violence is overrated, however. One must use it in moderation, and employ several other tactics in order to get the best result.

Maybe that’s why I hate him – he simply didn’t bend. He threatens my state of authority, and human nature does not allow me to have him do that. I, like a metal head who has found himself in a nest of children who are not his own, needed to snap him like a brittle twig and kill his spirit in that cold darkness.

Because if I didn’t I wouldn’t be a commander, I wouldn’t be a winner.

I wouldn’t be me.

But I am me – because even if I didn’t break him, I made him a monster, I made him a fighter.

And yes, in some sick way I made him a hero. Where would he be now if I hadn’t tortured him and made him scream, held him down in the darkness and demanded payment – where would the underground be? Still scraping their fighters off the walls of the industrial section instead of blowing up my hellcats, that’s where.

I own him, and that is the way it will always be. He cannot get me out, though I know he has tried.

He is mine.

We are possessive creatures, brutal by nature, animalistic even. To say anyone is beyond such carnal things would be naïve, a mistake too often paid for in blood. Ah, yes, I made them pay for underestimating me – but I don’t always seek to kill. Death is necessary, mind you, and a powerful tool that I don’t mind employing. But I know worse things than death.

But what am I saying – you asked for my thoughts and feelings on the matter of the eco-freak, and I’m afraid I have been depriving you of information.

As I was saying, I didn’t lust after him as person; only what he represented. Now, don’t get me wrong – he is one of the most beautiful boys I have ever seen, and that is what drew me to him in the first place. But his charms all too soon faded into dust, smeared upon that innocent face like blood in the ran – the beautiful slickness rinsed away but always leaving a trace, always lurking in places the water could not touch.

His fear and anger ruined his looks for me, I’m afraid.

But what I got from that was far, far more pleasing.

It is, I suppose, the same as the guards and the civilians – I was establishing my supremacy over them, and if I had to fuck them to do it, well all the better for me.

I won’t lie, for I did enjoy taking them – the taste of blood and the feel of sweat-slick skin do not cause me displeasure in any way. I’m afraid their frequent retaliations only fueled the fire, so to speak; nothing like a little bit of a tussle to establish my utter control over them.

Okay, to self diagnose in language you can understand - I have an authority complex. Bastards just don’t get that I own them, every single little lap dog they throw into the guard; crated and chained.

A wolf among the sheep, a master among the puppets, and commander among the populace.

Even Praxis, our most beloved Baron, even he would have been lost without me. I am the power behind the throne; I keep the rats in line and for my services I am given the liberty to do what I want – collared but not leashed. I have boundaries of course, and have endured many a moment of skirting around the Baron’s infamous temper as he riled me for some trespass that always got glazed over.

They just don’t understand me, and I’m afraid you don’t either.

Oh, you aren’t the first one Praxis has sent in to diagnose me, to ruffle through the stacks of paper and tell me I have problems. No doubt that there will be more, prying and prodding into my history, trying to make some sense of what I do.

Trying to find out why I do it.

What have you got there? My every step on file for you to pick at and meddle in, hmmm? Oh, don’t play coy – I know that’s what’s hidden in your folder. What shall you throw at me today? Pedophilia? The murder of another supposedly innocent civilian?

You really shouldn’t waste your time with this you know, because I’m afraid you won’t break me – that is an area of expertise I am very well accustomed to and you are just like all the others.

And I can tell you now that I don’t shoot for no reason – there is always a reason, even if I am the only one who knows what it is. I mean to kill when I fire, I mean to torture when I capture, I mean to break them.

I mean everything.

No thoughts, no pauses – just life going on as it’s meant to be.

Well, as much as I enjoy chatting with you, I do have duties to attend to. Pray tell, what is your diagnosis?

Authority complex? Yes, I think I can live with that.

Description
Not another analysis

And yet, I didn’t want him.

True, I have no qualms about my antics with the men of the guard – but wonder boy? No, I didn’t desire him; I didn’t want Jak. Now I have time to reflect on it I wonder why anyone ever thought I did? The guards are different, play toys, fuck-buddies, slaves to my whim.

But Jak?

I’d never seen a prisoner hold out for so long. I kept pushing him down during those two years, trying to break him because I wanted to and needed to. But no matter what I did, he just keep coming back up. I learnt a lesson there, in that dank cell.

I hated it – but at the same time I was obsessed with it.

I wanted dominance, I wanted to crush him and tear him apart because doing that was the only thing that kept me breathing. Oh, they say my loyalty is legendary – if not to the Baron then at least to my title. But I don’t care about that, I covet my rank because it keeps me safe and it lets me do what I need to do – lets me kill who I needed to kill.

Violence is overrated, however. One must use it in moderation, and employ several other tactics in order to get the best result.

Maybe that’s why I hate him – he simply didn’t bend. He threatens my state of authority, and human nature does not allow me to have him do that. I, like a metal head who has found himself in a nest of children who are not his own, needed to snap him like a brittle twig and kill his spirit in that cold darkness.

Because if I didn’t I wouldn’t be a commander, I wouldn’t be a winner.

I wouldn’t be me.

But I am me – because even if I didn’t break him, I made him a monster, I made him a fighter.

And yes, in some sick way I made him a hero. Where would he be now if I hadn’t tortured him and made him scream, held him down in the darkness and demanded payment – where would the underground be? Still scraping their fighters off the walls of the industrial section instead of blowing up my hellcats, that’s where.

I own him, and that is the way it will always be. He cannot get me out, though I know he has tried.

He is mine.

We are possessive creatures, brutal by nature, animalistic even. To say anyone is beyond such carnal things would be naïve, a mistake too often paid for in blood. Ah, yes, I made them pay for underestimating me – but I don’t always seek to kill. Death is necessary, mind you, and a powerful tool that I don’t mind employing. But I know worse things than death.

But what am I saying – you asked for my thoughts and feelings on the matter of the eco-freak, and I’m afraid I have been depriving you of information.

As I was saying, I didn’t lust after him as person; only what he represented. Now, don’t get me wrong – he is one of the most beautiful boys I have ever seen, and that is what drew me to him in the first place. But his charms all too soon faded into dust, smeared upon that innocent face like blood in the ran – the beautiful slickness rinsed away but always leaving a trace, always lurking in places the water could not touch.

His fear and anger ruined his looks for me, I’m afraid.

But what I got from that was far, far more pleasing.

It is, I suppose, the same as the guards and the civilians – I was establishing my supremacy over them, and if I had to fuck them to do it, well all the better for me.

I won’t lie, for I did enjoy taking them – the taste of blood and the feel of sweat-slick skin do not cause me displeasure in any way. I’m afraid their frequent retaliations only fueled the fire, so to speak; nothing like a little bit of a tussle to establish my utter control over them.

Okay, to self diagnose in language you can understand - I have an authority complex. Bastards just don’t get that I own them, every single little lap dog they throw into the guard; crated and chained.

A wolf among the sheep, a master among the puppets, and commander among the populace.

Even Praxis, our most beloved Baron, even he would have been lost without me. I am the power behind the throne; I keep the rats in line and for my services I am given the liberty to do what I want – collared but not leashed. I have boundaries of course, and have endured many a moment of skirting around the Baron’s infamous temper as he riled me for some trespass that always got glazed over.

They just don’t understand me, and I’m afraid you don’t either.

Oh, you aren’t the first one Praxis has sent in to diagnose me, to ruffle through the stacks of paper and tell me I have problems. No doubt that there will be more, prying and prodding into my history, trying to make some sense of what I do.

Trying to find out why I do it.

What have you got there? My every step on file for you to pick at and meddle in, hmmm? Oh, don’t play coy – I know that’s what’s hidden in your folder. What shall you throw at me today? Pedophilia? The murder of another supposedly innocent civilian?

You really shouldn’t waste your time with this you know, because I’m afraid you won’t break me – that is an area of expertise I am very well accustomed to and you are just like all the others.

And I can tell you now that I don’t shoot for no reason – there is always a reason, even if I am the only one who knows what it is. I mean to kill when I fire, I mean to torture when I capture, I mean to break them.

I mean everything.

No thoughts, no pauses – just life going on as it’s meant to be.

Well, as much as I enjoy chatting with you, I do have duties to attend to. Pray tell, what is your diagnosis?

Authority complex? Yes, I think I can live with that.