Rule No. 1: Don’t be too emotional : Chapter 51

Sculpture is the art of the intelligence

Pablo Picasso

“But once you know… there is no going back.” P’Jane’s words left me frozen. I looked calm on the surface, but inside, I was trembling. His tone and his invitation were so haunting that I became terrified to step inside.

“Are you hesitating?” The tall man’s demonic smile widened at my reaction. No matter how much we loved each other, he was still the same person-a man who loved playing with the human psyche. He took a twisted pleasure in intimidation.

“It’s too late now, Jane.””… ”

“Don’t you want to know if the jar is full of honey?” P’Jane grabbed my arm and pulled me up. His dark eyes shimmered with a predatory light. He led me, my legs feeling like lead, into that pitch-black room. The door shut behind us with a heavy thud, sealing us in. Not a single ray of light penetrated the space. I was submerged in a void so thick I couldn’t see a thing, and I had no idea where P’Jane had vanished to. I gasped when I felt him suddenly appear behind me. He used his warm palm against my back to urge me forward until I reached a position that satisfied him. Then, he wrapped his arms around me from behind, his grip as tight as a constrictor snake. In this darkness, his embrace felt possessive-almost frightening. I was drenched in sweat. His lips brushed against my left ear, whispering in a voice that wasn’t a voice at all, but a low, vibrating breath.

“Welcome to your world.” P’Jane snapped his fingers. Instantly, small lantern-like wall lamps positioned around the room flickered to life with an amber glow. I didn’t even have time to ask why he called it my world, because my eyes went wide and my heart nearly stopped. I clamped my hands over my mouth to keep from screaming at the sight before me. It can’t be. It’s not possible. I recognized every photograph hanging on the walls. They were the photos P’Win had taken of me when we were dating-the ones P’Jane had tracked down and bought out entirely at an exorbitant price.

“I may hate his guts,” P’Jane said, his voice satisfied yet chillingly cold, “but I have to admit, Win really knew how to capture you.” He stepped closer, his voice like polar ice.

“He must have loved you very much back then.” I was speechless, but it wasn’t the photos that truly shocked me. My eyes were glued to the center of the room, to a three-dimensional sculpture-a white plaster cast that sat prominently on a pedestal. It was a statue of me. Every detail-the height, the hair, the eyes, the facial structure, the shape of the hands-it was a perfect, staggering replica of how l looked five years ago. It was like looking into a haunted mirror. The only difference was that my body now was leaner and more toned from exercise; back then, I was just a boy who didn’t care much for his physique. But the most shocking part was the state of the sculpture. It was completely nude, exposing every curve and private detail for the viewer to behold. The statue was posed with its upper body pressed face-down against a table, head turned to the left, heels raised, and knees turned inward. The expression captured on the face was one of raw, agonizing lust-lips parted as if in the middle of a moan. The work went far beyond “erotic.” I stared at it, my face burning. P’Jane pressed a kiss to my cheek as light as a butterfly.

“Is it beautiful?”

“Who… ” My voice was dry and barely a whisper.

“Who did you hire to carve this?”

“I made it myself,” he whispered back with a smirk.

“Who else knows the details of your body as well as I do?” “I know every expression and every move you make when you’re aroused. Do you really think I’d let anyone else see you like this? Never.” He slid his hand under my shirt, squeezing my waist as he continued.” I remember everything.” I believed him. I never forgot he was a genius with a photographic memory, gifted in both art and music. P’Jane stepped away from me and leaned down next to the left side of the statue, facing it. He gently stroked the plaster hair as if it were a living person.

“I created this with a single thought: if I couldn’t possess the real thing, possessing the perfect likeness was better than nothing.” His eyes were full of dark satisfaction as he reminisced, his gaze reflecting only the sculpture.

“It helped me get through many lonely nights.” I looked away. I understood everything he was saying, but still… this piece of work… ” You’re wondering if I’m a psychopath, aren’t you?” I couldn’t speak; he had read my mind perfectly. But he wasn’t afraid. He laughed softly, walked back to pull me into a hug, and spoke in a husky tone.

“They say every genius has a touch of the psychopath. One way or another, it’s because we don’t think like everyone else. So, we have to find a way to let it out.” “Look, Jane. See how beautiful you are.” He gripped my chin, forcing me to stare at the shameful pose of my own likeness. He was immensely proud of his masterpiece. I didn’t even want to imagine what he had done while looking at this finished statue-I was too embarrassed to even think about it. Was he really this obsessed with me? I knew he loved me, but “obsession” and “love” are two different things. This was pure, unadulterated obsession. My heart thundered. I felt a mix of arousal and terror, yet within that fear was a strange, twisted sense of happiness. I was probably going crazy, too. Even if it seemed “psycho,” it was a madness filled with the soul of an artist. P’Jane was an artist, and artists only create what they love. I couldn’t bring myself to judge him. He turned me around to face him. His handsome, sharp face held a wicked smile in the dim light.

“Now that you know… you can’t run away.” “… ”

“And this time… you asked for it yourself.”

“I’m not… ” I started, my voice dry. My heart was still racing like a drum. I was shocked, but I wouldn’t retreat. I had known since the first day I looked into his eyes that he was a dangerous man. A man who was terrifying, yet irresistible. He wasn’t a “psycho”-we just had different ways of expression. I had written countless poems in Thai and English about him for five years. Everyone has a different way of venting their longing. And besides… I had imagined him many times while I was alone. If I were to blame him, I’d be just as “‘ sick” as he was. We were just two people who loved each other a little too much. His long fingers cupped my cheek before tilting my head up to receive his kiss. What started as a soft touch quickly turned into a searing heat, as if he wanted to swallow me whole. One of his hands tangled into my hair, pulling my head back to meet the fire of his kiss. I let out a muffled moan. He shoved me against one side of the wall before hurriedly turning me around. I braced my arms against the wall as P’Jane pulled my trousers and underwear down with possessive haste. He didn’t even bother to fully undress me. I closed my eyes tight, moaning as his hand moved to stroke me into readiness.

“Jane, your body is so beautiful.”

“Ahh… ”

“I love it.” I cried out as P’Jane drove himself into me. It wasn’t a fast rhythm, but it was heavy-so heavy my legs shook. He hadn’t even taken off his own jeans, only unbuckling his belt and unzipping in his rush. I could feel the rough denim and the cold metal of his belt buckle hitting my hips with every thrust. The heat in the room was so intense that even the air conditioning couldn’t cool it down. I felt a surge of pride that he praised my body; all that effort to take care of myself had been worth it. His powerful hips thrust upward, intentionally hitting my spark. I panted, my breath fogging the oil paintings nearby.

“P’Jane… hah… ahh!” I lost my voice. Today, P’Jane was more violent and aggressive than ever. His hands braced against the wall as he hammered into me with a merciless, brutal rhythm. He showed no pity.

“Do you like it like this?”

“Ahhh!”

“Do you like it? Tell me you like it!”

“Ilike it! I love it! Ahhh!” P’Jane angled himself, swirling deep inside me with such force that my eyes rolled back. My legs trembled so much I almost collapsed, but he caught my waist just in time. He repositioned me, shoving my clothes down to my ankles, and used both hands to knead and squeeze my backside. He gripped me firmly, pulling me open before driving in with a rapid, frantic pace. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as I tightened around him, making it almost impossible for him to move. He groaned with pure satisfaction.

“Fuck… good… good boy.”

“Ah… ah!”

“Good, baby.”

“Daddy… ”

“Daddy JP will bring you to heaven, baby.” He thrust with the rapid-fire rhythm of a machine gun until I could only scream. Finally, my legs gave out, and I collapsed into a heap on the floor. P’Jane knelt down behind me, hauling my hips up. His large hand pressed firmly against my back as he drove in and out with primal intensity. I bit my lip hard as his searing heat withdrew slowly-teasingly-until it was almost entirely out, only to drive back in until he hit the very hilt. I let out a shattered moan. His hands moved to pull and crush my nipples while his hips continued their relentless assault.

Then, he scooped me up, lifting me effortlessly until I was airborne, and laid me face-down across the table. I braced my arms at my sides, turning my head to the right to catch my breath, only to find myself staring directly into the face of my own sculpture. With P’Jane riding me from behind like a stallion, I stood on my tiptoes, my knees knocking together from the sheer ecstasy. I realized with a shock that my current posture was an exact, mirror image of the statue’s pose. Not a single detail was off. P’Jane leaned down to whisper hoarsely in my ear, his hand stroking my leg from my calf to my backside. I shivered violently; the rough, calloused texture of his palm sent sparks of pleasure through me.

“I’ve dreamed of this constantly.” “… ”

“Do you see it?””… ”

“I remember everything about you, Jane.” “Ugh… ah… P’Jane… ” A low, raspy groan escaped his throat as my heat clamped down on him. He exhaled sharply from the intensity. My body shook with every impact. I glanced back at him and saw his jet-black eyes glowing in the dark, revealing every raw, savage emotion and the bottomless hunger within him. P’Jane grabbed my face, forcing me to look at the six photographs in front of us while he accelerated his pace, sending my body bouncing against the table. I gasped every time he buried himself deep inside me, my entire frame vibrating under his control. I could hear the rhythmic wet sound of our bodies colliding. He licked my neck and whispered in a gravelly voice: “Look, Jane… ”

“Hah… ah… ah!”

“We’re having sex right in front of the photos Win took of you with his ‘love’.””… ”

“I’m holding you in a way he never could.”

“P’Jane… ah… P’Jane… “” Because you belong to me alone.”

“Ahh!”

“A photographer like him still loses to a buyer like me.” His powerful hips didn’t stop, delivering a torturous, rapid-fire rhythm that made me feel like my heart was stopping. He laughed-a sound of pure, dark triumph. He seemed immensely gratified by the idea of insulting P’Win, even though Win had no idea this was happening. I didn’t even know where Win was anymore. P’Jane was the ultimate villain.

“Ah… P’Jane… hah… are you… a psycho? P’Win… ah… doesn’t even know.” He yanked my head back sharply, his whisper a terrifying mix of heat and threat.

“How dare you say his name while I’m fucking you.”

“You’re going to regret it.” I shrieked as he redoubled his efforts, hammering into me with such violence that the sound echoed through the room. The tip of his hardness struck my spark with every single thrust. I vibrated like a machine at full tilt, until even the heavy sculpture started to shake. Ecstasy gripped me from my hair down to my toes. I clawed at anything I could reach. I was completely undone.

“Please… ah… P’Jane… I was wrong! Mmm… ah… ah!” I begged him repeatedly to stop torturing my mind, moaning as l was swept up to the heavens. Though my legs were trembling, I couldn’t stop craving him; I squeezed him tighter, goading him to 0ho claim me even harder. This was what “pleasurable torture” felt like. I was officially addicted. Finally, white heat exploded from me. I exhaled a long, shaky breath, my heart racing. P’Jane released right after me, but he wasn’t satisfied yet. He refused to let me go, stripping the rest of my clothes off until I was completely bare. Now, I was no different from the sculpture he had created. I sat on the table, legs dangling, as P’Jane forced my thighs wide apart.

I turned my head away in shame as he narrowed his eyes, inspecting every detail of me as if l were a priceless work of art. He was likely the only person on earth who knew every mark on my body-every mole, every birthmark, every scar. He knew my body better than I did. My cheeks burned a deep, sunset red. Then, P’Jane’s tongue flicked against my opening. I cried out, trying to close my legs to-dull the sensation, but his strong hands held me pinned. He worked with masterfully practiced skill until I was shaking again. He looked up at me and issued a command: “Our next rule: Don’t you dare close your legs.”! He flashed a wicked smile.

“Otherwise, you’re never leaving this room again.” “… ”

“I want to taste you.””… ”

“Indulge me.””… ”

“Understand?” With my eyes squeezed shut, I nodded frantically. He used his tongue everywhere, and I moaned, feeling like I was being electrocuted. I wanted to fold inward, but I was locked in place. I could only bear down against his mouth and his flickering tongue.” P’Jane, please… daddy… it’s too much… it’s too much!” The onslaught was endless, until I was slick with him. Pre-cum leaked from me, drenching my skin, before his rough tongue moved to the front. He licked and teased me so slowly I thought I’d lose my mind. I gripped his dark hair, pulling him closer as I grew desperate. P’Jane took me into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he worked, laughing softly against me. He kissed the tip of my heat before taking it all in again, as if he absolutely adored me. By now, the table was a mess of us. He grabbed one of my feet and propped it up on the table for leverage. After worshiping me for a while longer, he stood to his full height. He used a single, powerful hand to circle my throat, and then he drove back inside. I gripped the edge of the table, gasping for air under the weight of his thrusts.

“Good boy.” We collided in that position until I peaked again, the force of it staining his shirt. Only then did he loosen his grip. He hoisted me up into his arms; I immediately wrapped my legs around his waist and clung to him to keep from falling. In this position, my weight forced him even deeper. I moaned as he bounced me up and down. Our pendants-the key and the padlock-clattered against each other on our chests with every movement, sometimes tangling, sometimes breaking free. I buried my face in his shoulder, arms locked around his strong frame, tears of pure bliss pricking my eyes. He panted, whispering in my ear with a voice that was both sexy and commanding: “I’m going to bring the whole world to its knees beneath my feet.”

“Hah… P’Jane… ah!”

“When that happens, stay by my side, Jane.”

“Ah… ah… it feels so good!”

“We’ll go together.” “… ”

“I’m never letting you go again.”

“I’m almost… Daddy, please! Daddy!!”