Crazy & Psycho's Stories

A Ring of Bruises

Almost every Saturday night, it became a routine. He’d lie, submissive on the bed, as she did what she pleased with him, with his body. It was the price he paid for caring for such a terrible, sadistic creature, who enjoyed seeing him squirm with pain as she pinched and teased sensitive places on his body. She loved hearing his moans and cries, sometimes telling her to stop, but she knew he didn’t really want her to stop, or else he wouldn’t lie submissively on the bed for her. He’d fight against her, like he usually did when anyone else attempted to touch him the way she did.

Sometimes, though, she’d be more gentle, and give him more loving touches and love bites. She’d suck and tease his skin, giving him a ring of hickeys all around his neck, usually, but sometimes on his chest or shoulders. Her hands would be more caring, and she’d gently stroke him, instead of digging her nails in and scratching like she usually did.

Never once have they actually had sex. Sure, she’s given him the occasional blowjob and she’d speak all seductively to tease him, but they never had sex. Sex was something reserved for lovers, who wanted to join their bodies together with passion. What they did was nothing more than evening lust, just wanting to touch and tease. She never took her clothes off, either; all of her clothing stayed on, while all of his came off.

In the morning, he’d either wake up sore, if she’d been rough the night before, or he’d wake up feeling soft and fluffy. On the sore days, she’d usually be gone, in her own room. But on the soft and fluffy days, sometimes she’d be curled up beside him, with her head on his chest. He’d grip her jacket tight, seeing how she never took it off, and he’d bury his face in her hair ‘cause she always smelled nice. Sometimes the smell would remind him of his mom, or his past, of the better days. He’d never know if she was really asleep or not, but she’d smile and cuddle just a little closer. It showed that she actually had something of a soul sometimes.

When he’d go back to work, he’d have to wear clothes to carefully conceal the love marks and things that she left on his body. Some days, they’d be almost impossible to hide, and some people (usually Pricilla or Marco) would say;

“Is that a hickey?” And he’d look at them and frown.

“A bruise,” is all he’d say, before pulling his clothing down on wherever it was to try to hide it while he walked away. It would be better for them to know that he wasn’t being dominated in bed by his cyborg. But she’d always know, and she’d just look at him with gleaming brown eyes when they’d go out to train, and he’d frown at her.

“Psycho.” He’d say.

“Crazy.” She’d mutter.

It was their routine on Saturday nights and Sunday mornings.

In the Line of Danger

Click.

Jay’s lifted his head from the desk and immediately felt cold metal pressed against the back of his head, and he sighed heavily, before putting on his glasses and turning. The front of the pistol was now stuck right between his eyes, painfully pressing the bridge of his glasses into his nose. Of course she would do something like that, walk right up behind him while he was taking a nap at his desk and stick a gun by his head.

“D’ you mind?” He growled lowly at her, and Liz smiled.

“No. Do you?” For a moment, they were both silent. “Not like I cared anyway.” Smiling down at him, the pressure on the trigger from her finger increased. “You know, I could kill you right now if I wanted to. All it would take is for me to pull my finger the rest of the way back...” His teal eyes looked up at her almost warningly, and she pulled it back just a little...

The gun gave an empty click before she retracted it to her side.

“It wasn’t even loaded,” Jay muttered. “Really. I’d at least think you’d have it loaded and on safety to try to scare me more...” As soon as those words were out of his mouth, her hands were at his throat, and he gagged as she pushed him back into the desk.

“Are you trying to piss me off?” She asked as he coughed. He shook his head as best as he could, and she pressed harder into his neck. “Really?” Just when his vision was starting to fog, and he felt like he was going to pass out, she released her grip. She’d been holding him so tightly that he was sure there’d be bruises there sometime tomorrow.

“Damn,” he coughed. “One of these days, you’re going to kill me.”

Smiling, the tan skinned girl leaned down, pressing her face up against his own. “Now why would I do that, my dear? I’ll have much more fun with you if you’re alive than if you’re dead. You can only go so far with dead people.”

“...you’re sick,” Jay muttered, turning back to the papers he’d fallen asleep on at his desk.

“Not sick,” she purred, moving to sit on his bed. “Just Psycho.”