Journals of a Psychopath



Find out what happens to the Lady Flarice.

The Family Farm

Stretching her body parts and Jessie clutched me to her chest.
      “What is the latest thing Rhea is up to?” She asked.
      “You know Rhea.”
      “She should get a medal for her tolerance.”
Sexing and the suspension of the bed compounded by the weight, the sounds loud enough to alert Caldwell, and Rhea about the activity we engaged in. Darting to the kitchen, Smithson threw together a split roll. Jessie dawdled next to me.
      “I know Smithson is interested in me.”
      “You had better shut your mouth.”

My Abode

A loud banging on the front door annoyed me and opening it I saw two detectives standing fidgeting.
      “Mr. Samuel we want to take a look around.”
Smithson scrutinized my eyes worriedly and I beamed. I opened the door to give access and the cops looked a little tired, as they poked around. Conducting the cops downstairs and the detective's eyes widened when he saw the pure white silk, they scanned the manacles, and the chains.
      “Into sadism are we? What is it with the gowns?”
      “My girlfriend is into Knights, masochism and that kind of thing.”
      “What is her name?”
      “Her name is Merle Deveron.”
I knew she would verify the story she adored me and wanted me in her life. The detectives glanced back as they set off. Lady Flarice was reassured when we released her from the wall and her shoulders were slumped.
“Keep your back straight,” Smithson said in his baritone voice.
Smithson laid his hand on Lady Flarice’s spinal column and corrected her posture.
Drinking liquor and the unusual became the usual the abnormal became the normal. Smithson was the best partner, I endured something akin to love, but he had sinned he wanted the Lady Flarice.

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