Journals of a Psychopath

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Clarkson roams the pages of Journals of a Psychopath, to punish women with silvery blonde hair, and the Lady Flarice.

The Segregation Cell

The Lady Flarice was shocked to see Smithson shepherded into the segregation cell bound and gagged. Forcing Smithson on the floor, he toppled, Smithson barely concealed the terror in his sight-disks, he concentrated on me as if he saw me for the first time, and he peed his pants.
      “If you will not perform as the heir to the dominion you will not live, the lower existence is a sideline to make our calling invincible. If you do not comply, you will stay here until your mother’s death. The homestead and the wealth will be stolen by me then I will murder you.”
Something in his expression changed from insolence to respect and he regarded me.
       “You will be secured until you give me the answer the heir to my jurisdiction or a demised inheritor of Caldwell Enterprises.”
Hauling him and I ordered Smithson to undress, he shivered apprehensively, but he obeyed, the sword trailed to his manhood.
      “This will be cut off before you die if you disobey.”
I eased the gag from Smithson’s mouth.
      “Father I will submit and be the son and heir to your realm.”

The Manor House

Glancing at Smithson, he was contrite, and a few mourners sat in corners, I was near Rhea I appeared an ideal partner. Jayne waltzed in, Rhea was annoyed, and Jayne wandered to us.
      “Just go,” Rheanna said to Jayne when she joined us.
      “I am having so much fun not likely.”
Curious folk glanced at Rheanna and she pasted a false smile on her face. Smithson skulked around, he examined, as Jayne gripped my arm, his face was ashen, and it was suitable for the occasion he looked the grieving grandson. Rhea created an excuse and disappeared.
      “You had better go after Rheanna,” Jayne said.
Extricating from Jayne’s grasp and I wandered into the yard, I sat on the bench, the ice began to melt under my bulk. Lottie sidled to us, her skull was masked with curls corresponding to a corkscrew, and Lottie’s face was doll-like. Focusing on her lips, Smithson became alert he sensed my mood. Lottie accepted our offer to walk with us and I unlocked the yard gates.

 

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