158. Lorenzo
All my since I left that woman, I had hynotisd myself into forgetting that past. I had sworn to throw it behind me and never remember.
This man knew how much I hated myself for that.
He even knew how much I struggled with an addiction to women. That I never felt satisfied with just one. That I had gotten addicted to the drugs she would pump in me to make me aroused and serve them.
Did he even know how much I wanted to rip off my manhood and throw it away—because every time I saw it, I remembered my mother's face and what she used to do to me?
How could he?
The rage that had been festering inside me for years snapped its chains and glared it's fangs at him. I slammed the bastard against the cold floor, again and again, with the strength of a man who had been holding bac
