<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="color: #80FF80">Carlos Delgado</span></span></span></div><br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="postlink" href="http://i1343.photobucket.com/albums/o793/Galvin_Fugazi/75418b36-82bd-4b2f-bdff-d44eb7e2deaf_zpsb78abdde.jpg">[ img ]</a></div><br/><br/><br/><div style="text-align: justify;">Her voice had been devoid any emotion and Carlos knew that she wasn't accusing him, that she simply wanted to know. And she had the right to know it, as he wanted to know her past, she had to know his. Even if it was kind of....shocking.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF8000">"No, I don't feel better. And I wouldn't say that treating my issues differently makes me a better person. With the drugs thing though...yes, it makes me a better person not doing drugs. My younger brother did drugs, he used and sold them while I had been on police academy. They shot him dead when he pulled a gun on some officers while being high. I don't accuse them of killing him, he had asked for it and I would have acted the same in their situation. It is one of the reasons why I always approved what you had done, Lea. With the forcing myself on others...that's another story..."</span><br/><br/>He paused for a moment trying to sort his thoughts and memories. It weren't his most favourite memories.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF8000">"Me and my brother were raised by our mom. My dad...Mr. Delgado...I can't remember him. He left us shortly after my brother was born. Mom never spoke of him, but she never changed her name either, so I guess she still loved him somehow. She was working as a housemaid and we often changed our towns. It got worse when my mom got that job with some executive director and we moved into their garden house. I guess she had an affair with him, too, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was that I had to go to the same school like his daughter. The same class too, as we had the same age. It was never easy for me in school, as a mexican guy, but she made it hell. She mocked me, kept me like a slave, forced me to bring snacks for her snobby girlfriends, forced me out of any sports activities by telling lies and so on."</span><br/><br/>Carlos could see that Lea actually listened to his words. She had perked up a little and it may be some good sign. <br/><br/><span style="color: #FF8000">"One day during the holidays, my mom was in town buying groceries, her dad was at work, her mom somewhere in a beauty salon, I had cut the lawn and was back in the garden house under the shower, when she entered the bathroom with a camera. I don't know what she had wanted to do, make pictures of me and show them her girlfriends or post them in internet, I really don't know. But fact was, she stood there in her short summer dress with that camera at her eye, when I opened the shower. Maybe she had believed I would be shocked and frozen and she could rush out after taking the pictures, but I had aggravated so much hate for her over the past months that I made a rush at her. I caught her before she could even turn, she tried to break free, tried to scratch me, but I simply pressed her arms at her side and carried her to my bedroom and threw her on my bed. I had no intention to rape her or something like that, I just wanted her to stop harassing me...but then I saw the fear in her eyes, saw her trying to crawl back in bed and I lost it. I bound her to the bed, arms, legs and then I ripped that kinky summerdress from her body. She was a beautiful girl, firm breasts, nice ass and a slender waist. She didn't shout for help, she didn't cry, she was like paralyzed. I toyed with her, tortured her and in the end I fucked her. She never spoke about it to her parents or my mom, but she stopped treating me like her slave in school and at home she often walked in on me when I was naked. Everytime I came for her and the same fear was in her eyes and everytime we ended up with her bound and finally fucked. It was like a game we played, but it ultimately changed something in me. Whenever I feel a woman oozing fear out of her pores it calls that darker side of me up. Yes, I like it to be dominant and it gives me pleasure to treat a girl rough...but I would never do it to someone a second time if she didn't respond to it, like that girl did...or you..."</span></div>