Journals of a Psychopath



How many times can Clarkson punish the Lady Flarice?

The Timber Figures and the Darkest-One

Smithson collapsed to his knees, begged for mercy from the Purifiers and the Archangel. Cambering my skull, relaying to the Trees about incident, and the Woodlanders understood it was a grave issue and illogical deeds happened, because of the powerful sexual force. I wished the Purifiers had allowed me to punish Smithson severely, but they had not.
The Isolation Chamber

Lady Flarice’s wrists and ankles were marked by the manacles, the whiff in the chamber was dense, and caused me to think about Bailey. Averting their eyes Smithson and Lady Flarice were uneasy.
      “Your chamber reeks.”
      “I am sorry Sir Clarkson yet you withheld the use of the bathroom.”
      “Are you saying it is my fault?”
      “No it is not.”
Murmuring in my ear and Smithson's suggestion was received with pride. Unclasping the manacles Smithson was egotistical and I supervised. Smithson cleaned the fecal matter and I researched her.
      “Get in the shower.”
Hurrying into the washroom and she frenetically bathed her body.
      “She will not relish this,” he said.
Smithson was preparing the soup, the ingredients, onions, vegetables, garlic, fat and he added her feces.
She hobbled from the shower.
      “Stay naked.”
Dancing and poetically patterning our speech we were animated, Smithson stopped and clutched his shoulder. I pressed the wound he winced, and began to dance again. Gawping at Lady Flarice’s woman-place, Smithson was fervent, I analyzed Smithson’s sight-disks for a moment, and turning his eyes away, my son was petrified. Smithson was a man with a male’s needs, but I would not tolerate him coveting Lady Flarice.
      “You must submerge your impulses and the perusing of her private-part has vexed me.”

The Homestead

Jayne and I advanced into the kitchen and Jessie was preparing a strong coffee.
      “Who is this I have seen her before?” Jayne said.
      “This is Smithson's tutor and Jessie this is Jayne.”
      “I know who she is I have seen in the den and Rhea has told me about her many times,” Jessie replied.
      “I often think about Phoebe do you?”
She filled Jessie in on our antics.
      “You know more concerning Clarkson than I do,” Jessie said.
      “Oh you had better believe it me and Clarkson have known one another for years.”
      “What number of years?” Jessie asked.
      “Longer than I want to admit.”
She turned to me.
      “Shall we continue where we left off? I want you now.”
Jayne ran ahead, she vaulted into a room, and stripped down to her panties.
      “Is this what you want?”
In answer, I cradled Jayne in my arms, lowered her on the table it bore our weight. Giggling assuredly and she melted into me. Sliding, we nearly fell over the edge. Jayne’s eyes were alive with passion, she smiled, and I was not amused. Once I was done, we moseyed into the kitchen, Jessie was still in it, and she researched us jealously, Jayne chuckled.
      “I have sexed with Clarkson,” Jessie said.
Jayne raised the hairs above her eye sockets.
       “He will not change I accept his infidelity, unlike Rhea, and by the look on your face you are not used to Clarkson’s conduct either.”
Busying at the sink and keeping her head rigid Jessie did not scan Jayne, I surveyed Jessie's downcast demeanor.
      “Both of you are fortunate to make it with me.”
Jayne tittered, Jessie was irate, and she glanced at me she derided me with her eyes. Striding in and Caldwell absorbed the setup Rheanna was on his heels.
      “I told you he was bedding Jayne,” Rhea said.

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