A/N: I AM SO GLAD I EDITED THIS! It was so short before and it made me say

"What is wrong with you woman, you actually put that out!' and my inner self defends with

"I'm sorry I'm such a n00b!" Anywho (I love it when people say it like that) By the way , I know there's a site where there's an announcement of all the writing challenges and if anyone who's reading this knows what the name is , E- mail me here: katsitsanoronsympatico.ca

Anyway, Enjoy this edited version!

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What can I say about what I do to my little, helpless toy, I love him and I'm addicted to what he does, It's tantalizing. That's why I love the winter, It's so beautiful and so delicate. I love seeing and hearing the ice crack beneath my foot when I just give it the smallest hit. Just the tiniest push and it's broken all over the place. The ice reminds me, so perfectly of him. I adore seeing my pitiful, broken chibi wither in pain, helpless on the floor. It's almost strange how I get off just hearing the delicate crack when my foot connects with his frail body, just like the ice. I could just bask in the view of his naked body somewhere between a euphoric state of unconciousness and climax. The sounds of his cries of pain and pleasure mixed at the same time within the rich texture of spilt blood diluted in tears over our bodies and the floor. I take my sick pleasures in watching his pain.

Truth is, he's so damn controllable. He'll easily crawl back under my wings despite the fact that I abuse whenever and wherever I choose, him and his pathetic soul. As much of a misanthrope that I am I've found I can love him for only for his pain. It's sick but it's beautiful to bring his bloody and broken face to mine and whisper the most degrading things in to him, knowing all the while that it will make him burn inside, arising an anger that is so mentally strong, that will stay within him, pent up forever. None the less, all I receive is a pathetic and pitiful moan of protest against the torture I will continue to inflict on his small, deflowered frame.

So, I continue, with leather to the skin and words to the ear. He glimpses death, something that I will never see. I'm not too concerned, because he's already seen pain and death enough for the both of us.

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