I Will Break You (Pen Pals Duet, #1)

by Gigi Styx

“Look at me when I’m haunting you,”

“Pinch your nipples,”

“Harder,”

“Nothing hurts more than spending months opening up to a woman, making her the focus of my entire existence, only to discover the relationship was a sham.”

Hearing you pleasure your sweet pussy with a replica of my cock left me lightheaded, disoriented, and aflame with the urge to release. I rushed to my cell, unleashed my erection, and came all over my hand.

Unfortunately, the guard who supervises death row’s morning exercises watched me masturbate through a hatch in the door. The next morning, after I downloaded a clip of you playing with the toy, she came into my cell and dropped to her knees. She wanted me to fuck her throat. Take pleasure from her filthy mouth. I declined.

The following morning, she refused to allow me close to the blind spot and has done so on subsequent days. My mail has also mysteriously stopped. I’m not ignoring your letters, but this woman is bent on punishing me for my fidelity. Yesterday, she offered me a concession. Ten minutes in the ...

My instincts scream at me to put this woman in her place, but she is one of the most lenient prison guards. Her replacement may confiscate my phone and destroy my letters, robbing me of my sole means of communication with you. You have become my lifeline, and I’m tempted to give in to her demands. But the thought of being unfaithful to you in any way revolts ...

So, I appeal to you, dear Amethyst. If you forbid me from complying with her degrading requests, I will oblige without a second thought. I will endure the relentless torment of not hearing your voice or reading your beautiful words. I will endure the solitude that will come with the loss of our correspondence. If you demand my fidelity, then it’s ...

I apologize for stalling my story. Please let me know how you wish me to proceed. Yours, Xero

Thank you for your blessing. I will maintain the boundary you set. When I stroke my cock, I will not make eye contact with the prison guard. Instead, I will close my eyes and think of you. You own my heart, my mind, my body… My very soul.

I would love to read your work.

Am I mistaking love for limerence? That’s an insightful question. Let me answer with a question of my own. Is it limerence if the feelings of that obsessive attachment are reciprocated? The love I had for my mother is real and still endures.

She loved me until the day she died.

expect the questioner wants to know about my romantic connections. The life of a killer is lonely, and showing vulnerabilities will be exploited. That said, I have found a woman for whom I feel a desperate longing. She doesn’t just see past my darkness, she embraces it. She is the one who shares my message with the world. In answer to the second question: I’m not sure what happened to Bianca the cat. After my mother died, I moved into my father’s house, never to return. Her owners treated her well, and I like to hope she lived a happy life and died of na...

You are racking up the punishments. Come home, now. YOU BELONG TO ME.

Our conversation this morning meant everything to me. I hope you understand that my attraction to you goes deeper than your beauty and the blood on your hands. I find you to be a queen among killers. You’re a kindred spirit, who is equally as imprisoned as I. Under my guidance, I will free you of the shackles of your psychiatrist and parents. You are loving. You are strong. You are sane. You are mine. I am all you need to survive. If they withdraw financial support for not taking medication, let them. I will meet your needs.

P.S. Were the photos I sent alright? I forwarded them at the lowest resolution so as not to encroach on our time together at the blind spot.

I’ve never felt so isolated. Never felt so lonely. Never felt so desperately in need of company. Last week, I would have poured out my feelings in a letter, or opened my heart to Xero in the morning and found solace in his words. Now, my savior has become my tormentor.

‘No matter where you hide, I will always find you. Even beyond death.’

Because I crave your pain.

I never pretended I wasn’t.

If I could have a superpower, it would be teleportation. I would leave death row to appear before my fans on camera. Afterward, I would take you upstairs and make you moan my name all night. No prison would hold my body, and no cell would hold my spirit. Yours, Xero P.S. Was the lingerie I sent your size?

“Excuse me?” asks a deep voice. I turn around and look into the eyes of a man wearing an executioner’s hood. My gaze wanders down his muscled chest, tight abs, and even tighter leather pants that showcase an impressive dick print. “Oh my god,” Myra says. “It’s the Well Hung Man.” He chuckles. “That’s right, my dear. Can I have a photo? I’m a huge fan of your podcast.”

arm around my shoulder and escorts me to one of the green screens. I refuse to call him well hung, even though the bulge in his pants confirms he lives up to his name. A small crowd gathers around us. From what I overhear, the hangman has five-hundred thousand followers and makes thirst traps on social media. Apparently, he’s a big deal.

Myra takes photos and video clips, goading him into grinding against my side for the camera. I play along, knowing she’s helping...

Another man approaches after we finish with the hangman. He wears a three-piece suit, demon makeup, and a pair of curved horns. Myra hisses that he’s a voice actor named Big Dick Johnson with three-hundred thousand followers. And he tells me he would be honored if I called him BJ. She pitches my book to him and asks if he wants to be the voice of Xero. Then my...

Your words of compassion haunt my days, but that video of you in the red lingerie haunts my nights. I replay that clip after lights out while inhaling your pussy-scented letters to remind myself that beyond these bars, I have my perfect soulmate. The letters you send me are so precious, yet I find myself wanting to fuck each one of them and smother the sheets of paper in my cum. Help me preserve your words by including extra sheets of paper in the envelope. Please smear them with your heavenly scent.

remain your humble admirer, Xero P.S. If you could add lipstick kisses to one of the blank sheets, I can imagine what color will stain my cock when I come down your throat.

Thank you for supplying the extra sheets. The one with your lip print will stay on my pillow while I grind my cock against the other you soaked with your juices. Fucking pieces of paper you’ve touched is the closest this sinner will know of heaven. That officer still watches me masturbate each morning. After finishing with me, she crawls into another prisoner’s cell so he can fuck her throat. She then takes him for his morning exercise before sliding into another prisoner’s room. The man in the cell next to mine says they have sex. By then, I’m already too engrossed in calisthenics to care.

Your humble admirer, Xero P.S. Thank you for sending the Rapunzelita manuscript. I will read a chapter a day before lights out, so a part of you will seep into my dreams.

Love, Xero

“I can smell your pussy,” he growls.

“Show me your pussy.”

“Show. Me. Your. Pussy,” he growls.

“Open your legs,”

“You’re glistening for other men.”

“Good girl. Now, touch yourself.”

“Do it. Now,”

“You used to moan so prettily for me in the mornings,” he says, his voice sharp with accusation. “Why are you silent now? Was it all for show?”

“You want a little help?”

“Stick it in your pussy.”

“Fuck me like you mean it. Give me a show to remember, my little ghost.”

“Deeper,”

“Harder,” he growls. “Faster.”

“Dirty girl. No cock will ever satisfy you except my own.”

“Keep fucking that dildo,”

“Didn’t I tell you we would be together forever?”

Love, Xero

Erotophonophilia.