**Hello, you! Glad that you were intrigued enough to click on this story, despite the summary and warning :) Yes, I know it's kind of weird and kind of freakish, but hey so am I! Anyway, this is just a "scratching the surface" chapter, so it's mildly tame, as far as the kinky stuff goes…so bear with me, if you're here to get the dirty goods. Also, please be aware that this story deals with a masochist g!p Quinn and a sadist dom!Rachel…MEANING that there will be material that some will/might find offensive (including: intersex bashing, sexual humility, bondage, physical and emotional abuse, etc…but all parties involved have given their consent ;) Okay, so enough of that blabbering; on we go…

CHAPTER 1:

Every time I study the torn skin, outlining still raw scratches along my bloodied shoulder blades, it gives me pleasure; a pleasure that dominates with such a vengeance that I am foolish to deny it. There is no strength left in my being to refuse this compulsion to serve the insatiable masochist that hungers for pain; the self-hating romantic that falls willingly for the dangerously unattainable. My body is designed to endlessly crave the sting of a cruel lover, one who drags me like a cadaver and savagely digs into my flesh, feasting on the poisoned organs that fail to function and work reason into my soul. I am a meal that is only appealing to the most ravenous of predatory hunters. I prefer a merciless love, or rather affair, where there is no limit to how much detestation is carved into my skin by another's hands. I prefer the feeling of a starved bite and angry slap than a velvet kiss and soothing caress. I prefer to whimper in defeat, instead of cry out in victory.

She knows this about me; she has identified my sickness and she forbids me a cure. She rather I suffer and beg her for a treatment; and when I do she denies me as I succumb to her unrelenting torture. She calls out to me, praising my valor, my strength, my endurance, only to break me down to a miserable creature that if looked at, it would appall with its dismal, pathetic appearance. I do as she says, as she orders, as she directs my body to do; if I disobey, if I should believe that I am free from her, she reminds me that I am nothing more than a lamb that she can easily slaughter, if I refuse to sacrifice myself to her supremacy. Sometimes I die for her quickly, sometimes I die slowly; no matter how I give up my ghost, she always disposes of me the same…with no bit of remorse or love.

Yet I love her so…more than is healthy, more than is just, more than is sane. She does not know this. This is something I find from her; this love I feel, is the only thing I do not throw to the wolf…to her. This love I bury so deep inside is unrecognizable; and if she were to ever come across it, she would mistaken it for another weakness in me, instead of the vigor that keeps me from dismantling completely in her hands, only so I can come back and fall to my knees before her, giving her unappeasable pride a sense of glory. For her, I will always endure the teasing: the manicured pressure clawing at my sensitive skin when I suck her hard nipples, the teeth that gnaw on my tender flesh when hovers above me and fingers herself, the cum-stained palm that strikes my face when I beg her to let me taste her, the hard tugging on my wrists when I try to break my bonds and thrust my disgusting penis into every beautiful hole that she flaunts in front of me. For her, I will always plead when she rubs her hands all over me, except for where I need them most. For her, I will always hate myself when she tells me how she will never touch the part of me that should never be loved, as she weaves her tongue into every curve, dip, and space on my tense-muscled frame, but evilly avoiding my always angrily throbbing penis. For her, I will always disallow myself healthy, just, and sane love…because there should be no mercy for someone like me; for a woman who knows no normalcy, for a woman who bears the genital-shaping of a male and has no ounce of self-love to accept her condition, her disfigurement.

I am as judgmental of myself as the doctors who have tried to force me to choose a gender, as if I was meant to have a choice. I feel as ugly as the marks she leaves on my body. I am as repulsed by my appendage as her unwillingness to touch it is. I am as destructive to myself as she is, carefully plotting against me, seeking to abuse any thoughts of hope and acceptance. I am as breathless as she wants me to be, but I comprise as much stamina that she needs me to have. I am as selfless as she selfishly demands of me; and I am as devoted to her as she is devoted to making me beg to be hers and only hers…

and I am hers, even if she is not mine. She is someone else's.

LAST NIGHT:

"I'm staying late," she says, as she stares at me. "No, Finn. Don't wait up; I have a feeling it's gonna take me all night to break down this problem," she drags her finger from my under my chin down to my collarbone. I look away, feeling the usual nerves, only to have her grab my face with her free hand, forcing me to meet her eyes; they are the color of burning wood, brown and black and fiery.

"It's not something I can just leave for someone else to do; I have to take this matter into my own hands," she grips the back of my neck and leans down until she is level with me, in my seated position. "I'm looking at it, right now, Finn…and I can already tell it's going to need my full attention."

I gulp and pull at the cuffs that have my arms pulled back behind the armless chair. I can feel my excitement when I realize that I'm completely immobile; it excites her, too. She digs her nails into the nape of my neck and grins when I try to keep quiet. "Look, I'll be home as soon as I'm done; bye, Finn."

She hangs up, drops her cell to the ground, and quickly straddles my lap. I instinctively thrust against her, earning me a slap on the face.

"Bad, Quinnie!" She points a scolding finger at me and smiles evilly. "Don't make me punish you, just yet; okay?"

"Oh ka-" I'm stopped by another slap on the opposite side.

"I didn't say that I wanted to hear you speak," she says, burrowing the nails deeper into my neck. I lean my head back, finding her sharp digs pleasurable. "Naughty, you should know how to expose your weak spots," she warns as she bites hard at the front of my extended throat. I yelp and try to bring my head forward, but she uses her other hand to hold it back. Her teeth break several layers of skin on my column, acting like saws slowly cutting through a tree trunk; then they scrape over lightly, enough to sting the reddened flesh.

I groan and thrust, unable to remain silent when she whips her tongue against my pulse point.

"No, thrusting! I don't want that thing being pushed up against me!" She yells into my ear, while letting go of my neck and head, in order to effectively pinch my sides. I cry out when she kneads the tight skin lining my ribcage. "Aw does that hurt?" she mocks, as she buries her hard knuckles into my ribs. "Huh, answer me, Quinnie!"

I nod and blurt out a "yes!"

"Yes, what?" she asks, bruising my muscles.

"Yes, it hurts," I reply in a quiet whisper, because being loud will only contract my ribs, pressing them harder into her knuckles.

"I can't hear you, Quinnie. Say it loud; tell me to stop," she orders, tickling my ear with her words.

"Stop!" I yell; and with a final dig, she stops. I let my head drop forward, against her left shoulder.

"Uh oh, are you tired, already?"

I shake my head, not lifting it.

"Good, because we haven't even started, yet," she gets off my lap and stands behind me. I almost relax when she massages the stretched tendons in my shoulders, leading up to rubbing her fingertips on my scalp. I lean my head back, again; my eyes closed, unable to see the smirk on her face until she grips my hair in her fists and pulls, "Look at me!" I do as I'm told and I feel my stomach flip-flop when she stares at me with big smoldering brown eyes. She leans her own head down, until her lips are hovering over mine, "You want to kiss me?"

God, yes! but I shake my head, just to hurt her pride, like she'll hurt mine when she tells me how pitiful I am when she leaves me on the edge of an orgasm.

"No?" she asks, pulling back and raising an eyebrow. "I'll make you fucking beg me to kiss your pathetic pouting lips when I'm done with you," she says, smacking me on the mouth and pushing my head forward, again, so I can't see her. "Don't even think about turning around."

This only makes me want to look at her, even more; take in the sight of her beautiful body. She knows she can drive me crazy with just a little strip tease, so when she flings her long sleeved top on my clothed shoulder, I prepare myself for what's to come.

"You know you're in trouble, right?" I feel her whisper behind my ear, sending chills down my spine. I gasp when she wraps a bare leg around the back of my chair and waist. I instantly tug at the metal cuffs that are holding my hands back, needing to touch her smooth tan skin. Her giggle vibrates against my ear, "You want to touch me, don't you?"

I stop struggling with the cuffs, a sign that I'm not giving in to her, yet. She accepts my challenge and slips in front of me, standing over me, her underwear clad pussy inches above the bulge in my pants. I whimper when she lets me kiss her soft stomach; I missed the feel of her on my lips so much. It's been two days since she last broke me down to a quivering, begging mess; that's two days too long.

"Look at you, so damn desperate to please me," she comments, shoving my head away from her abdomen and locking eyes with me. "I bet you want to suck on my tits," she lowers herself on my hard-on, now face to face. I nod and let my eyes drift down toward her perfectly shaped breasts; her nipples erect and rubbing against the fabric of my button-up shirt. She pinches her own nipples to tease me; it works.

"Let me suck your nipples, please." I say, sounding a little more eager than I intended to, but I can blame that on my aroused state.

She hears the crack in my voice and lifts her brow. "No."

"Please, I'll suck them so good," I squeak out, as she rubs them between her thumbs and index fingers.

She laughs, "Oh yeah? Will you suck them the way you wish I'd suck that thing between your legs?"

I duck my head, a little, embarrassed by the way she talks about my…thing… like that; like it's some alien creature. I don't blame her; even I feel disgusted imagining someone wanting to put their mouth on it...neither it, nor I, deserve that kind of pleasure.

She must be able to read my mind because she scoffs and rolls her eyes, "just open your fucking mouth, stupid."

I do so, before she even finishes her sentence and I moan around her breasts. She allows me to lick and suck on one, rubbing the tip against the roof of my mouth; before she pops it out sticks the other in. After five minutes I can't tell which one of us is moaning, but I know that my pants are way too tight around my bulge, right now; plus with her warm center rubbing against the front of my jeans, I can't keep from thrusting.

"What did I..tell…you about th-rusting, Quinn-ie?" Her speech is broken, interrupted by breathy sighs, but she has no problem with the fluidity of the trail that her nails carve into my lower back. I groan and arch into her, letting her nipple go.

She looks at her nails, there's red underneath them from the deep scratches she just gave me. "You got my nails dirty with your blood," she comments with a pout.

I feel the sting of her marks, as she smirks at me. She looks so sexy…A sex Goddess; she's so addictive it's not even fair.

"Please, let me taste you. You're so wet, I can smell it." I lean in as far as I can, pressing my flushed face against her bare chest. "Please, I need your taste on my tongue," my words are muffled and rushed, as I pull desperately on the damn cuffs, not caring how the metal chafes my wrists.

"No." She pushes me away and presses me into the back of the chair, examining how overheated I've become. The back of her hand drags across my forehead, wiping the thin layer of sweat off. "You're so hot," her tongue flicks over the perspiration on my collarbone, making me smile. "Do you want me to take your clothes off your sweaty body?"

Another nod from me and she begins to unbutton my shirt…slowly, on purpose. I impatiently thrust, groaning when I feel my covered erection aligns with her clothed wet pussy. She slaps my face and it stings so damn good that I thrust, again, making her hit the other cheek. An aroused moan emits from my mouth and she rips the rest of the buttons open in one swift motion. The cool air feels wonderful against my hot skin, but it doesn't last because a second after she tears my shirt off my stomach, she drags her nails down the center of my abs…hard.

"Oh, fuck!" I curse and lift myself off the chair as much as possible, in pain.

She laughs and her sexiness seeps through, causing my cock to twitch, "Oh, you look so good with my marks all over you," she teases. "Now every time you look at your body, you'll know who you fucking belong to, Quinnie."

I whimper when she gets herself off by gyrating on my lap and scratching frantically at my naked torso. Her scent fills the room; it smells so sweet and clean, making my mouth water. "Please, let me taste you!"

"Shut up!" She yells back, as she humps my bulge.

"Ple-" I beg.

"Say my fucking name!" Her voice almost sounds like a whine. I thrust, more, wanting to burst out of my goddamn pants. "I said say my fucking name, Quinn!" She smacks my face, not wanting to wait to hear it. "Say it, Quinn! Fucking say it!"

"Rachel!" I shout and tremble when she cums, soaking her panties and my jeans.

She rides out her orgasm on my lap, and when she's done she gets up, slips off her ruined panties and throws them on my face. "Taste that, Quinnie, because that's all you're gonna get."

I catch the wet fabric with my mouth and I suck on the crotch part, trying to get as much of her delicious juice onto my tongue.

"You're so dirty; so damn desperate to get your filthy mouth all over my pussy." She lifts her heeled foot between my legs, poking my cock with the tip of her shoe. I groan at the view of her dripping sex in front of me, I can see the light shine on her wet pussy lips and I nearly choke at how hard I'm sucking on her panties, trying to get as much of her taste in my mouth as I can. She pokes me a little harder, getting my attention and evilly smirking at me, "I should kick you in your balls for thrusting against me like that," I bite her panties when I feel the pointed shoe press forcibly into my scrotum. "Don't you think so?"

"No." I quickly answer, around the undergarment in my mouth. I may hate my unnatural genitalia and love feeling pain, but those two mixed? "No! Rachel, please don't!" I nearly scream, releasing her underwear, when she rubs ticklish circles against my crotch, with her foot.

She laughs at my squirming and my frightened face. "But you were being a bad Quinnie, so you have to be punished." She emphasizes the last word by lightly applying pressure to my full, sensitive, balls.

"No, no, no!" I tug, uselessly, at the cuffs. "Rachel, please!" I whine out, as she steps on my sack. My eyes water and I feel my face redden as I shake my head, side to side. I don't want to cry, but it hurts worse than her nails scarring my body. "Rachel," I whimper pathetically and look at her, defeat clear in my expression.

"Poor Quinnie," she mocks. "Do you want me to stop hurting your balls and suck them into my mouth, instead?"

"Please," I beg, not above whining.

"Too bad!" She yells, "I'll take my foot off your balls, only because I'm not in the mood to see you cry like a little bitch..." Rachel takes her shoe away from my horribly sore private. "But I'm not going to put my mouth anywhere near that thing, so don't even think about it."

I drop my head, letting my body sag against the chair. I hate this part… the part where she lets me go, with no desire to give me any kind of relief.

"In fact, I'll just let you go…" she un-cuffs me, "I'm tired of hearing you whine like a fucking baby. You're almost as bad as Finn."

This is different…She never compared me to her husband before, at least not to my face. I love her and I would never disrespect her, but those words just ignited an unfamiliar feeling in me. Is it hurt pride? Maybe, but this is much worse…I never felt this before, not around her. I have no control over my expressions, so when I furrow my brow and growl, she looks at me…one eyebrow raised.

"Fuck you," I snap at her. "Don't compare me to that asshole of a hus-"

Her hard slap cuts me off and a kick to my crotch brings me to my knees. Before I can get some wind back in my lungs, she grips the back of my head, fisting my hair and says…

"You wish you could fuck me…but you never will. Not with that freak show, below your belt." She lets me go and I cup my balls and curl up on the floor. She rolls me over and presses on foot on my stomach; the heel burrowing into my belly. I whimper and wrap my hands around her ankle, trying to push her foot off. Instead, she loses balance and falls on top of me, kneeing my aching balls.

"Fuuucking shit!" I growl out, as she laughs at the pain I'm in.

"That's what you get for talking back to me. Who do you think you are? You're fucking nothing, Quinn…You're nothing fucking nothing. Get it?" She mocks me, "You fuck nothing, only your own hand because no one wants to touch a lady dick that belongs to a nothing, like you. I'm actually surprised that your hand hasn't fallen off from having to rub that thing; it's a fucking miracle."

I turn my head to the side, so she can't see how ashamed I am. Her words are like Hell…they're cruel and merciless, but they are given to those who deserve it…I deserve it; that much I know. "Now, get the hell out of my damn office." She gets up and looks down on me; a true metaphor for our roles.

I whimper, as she nudges me with her heel, until I slowly get to my feet. "Can I have a kiss?" I ask, knowing the routine, by now: I beg her for a kiss, before she finally lets me leave.

"No. You don't deserve one," she says matter-of-factly. This throws me off, she usually doesn't tell me no; she normally tells me to earn it or beg or to do something else, but never no.

I'm confused and unable to process much, at all, especially since I can't read the expression on her face. I take my chances and move toward her, until my lips are inches from hers. "Please…" I whisper.

"I said no!" The rejection is followed by a hard shove and I stumble back, almost falling on my ass. "Now, get the fuck out before I kick your balls so hard that you throw up…And I'll make you eat it!"

Okay, point made. I quickly hurry out, as she nearly slams the door on my ass. I wait outside for a few seconds, not hearing a single sound; finally I walk away, in utter disbelief at how hard my dick is…

Before I reach the elevator, I hear her door open, "And next time you better watch your mouth if you ever want to suck the cum off my panties!"

I turn to yell back and obedient "okay" but her door closes just as quickly as it opened.

As I exit the building, I type in the security code that I know by heart and wobble to my car. Once inside, I look up at Rachel's office and see her silhouette standing in front of the only lighted window. A ridiculous sense of importance flows over me; Rachel always does this. She looks at me through her window until I leave. I never asked her why; a part of me thinks that it's because she cares, but a more realistic part of knows that it's her way of proving that she has her eyes on me, that it's another way for her to assert her dominance. I shake my head at my wishful thinking and turn on the engine. Noticing the clock on my car radio, I realize that I've been here for four hours.

Four hours of pleasurable pain that leaves me aching and wanting more…And even though I'm beat and completely broken down and slightly pissed off still (from the Finn comparison), I know I will gladly come back to her…I will always come back to her, regardless if she's not mine.

/END CHAPTER\

**Yikes! I'm not sure if this is anyone's cup of tea…but let me know if this is a keeper?