Chapter 10
DR. HENRY JEKYLL PERSONAL RESEARCH JOURNAL
My compliments to your exquisite taste in research assistants, dear Jekyll. I honestly cannot decide which I liked more. Her screams of pleasure as I whipped her ass with my belt, or the feel of her tight pussy clenching around my cock.
It’s a shame you yourself could not experience her delectable delights. After that disastrous attempt at seduction, can you really blame the woman for falling for the charms of a better man?
Take my advice, old chap. Women detest weak men. No woman wants the hesitant caress of a bashful man. They crave the firm hand that comes from arrogant confidence and power. Even more preferable if that firm hand is spanking their backside and pulling their hair.
Regrettably, I neglected to take photos. I will not be so remiss next time.
Sincerely,
From your better self
Mr. Edward Hyde
I stared at Hyde’s now familiar scrawl. With a cry of frustration, I swept my hand across the tabletop, sending the journal and several glass beakers crashing to the floor. My anger not assuaged, I turned and punched the wall, crying out as I clutched my now bruised and cut hand.
Hyde was a demon conjured from the depths of some chemical hallucinatory hell and yet he was living a better life than I could ever imagine. Expensive suits, drinks in swanky clubs… and sex with Catherine.
I ran my other hand through my hair. He was me! But he wasn’t. Dammit.
I closed my eyes, once more reliving the events of last night as if through a lens.
The first time I took the formula, I could remember most of what Hyde did.
It came back to me in flashes of insight through a headache haze.
This time I remembered less but felt more.
It was strange. It was as if he were taking over more control of my body each time I took the formula. Almost as if he was getting stronger.
I opened then clenched my sore hand. It wasn’t the pain from the wall I was feeling; it was Catherine’s skin, the warm touch of her punished ass.
After the formula had worn off, my senses were overloaded with remembrances of Catherine.
The sound of her gasp as Hyde—dammit, as I—entered her.
The musky scent of her arousal mixed with her perfume.
The feel of her silky hair wrapped around my fist. The sweet taste of her mouth.
Even the slight tang of her blood as I kissed her too fiercely and cut her lip on my tooth.
It was all there in flashes of light and dark.
I had been like an animal, possessed of only one solitary purpose, to claim Catherine.
I could not believe even an alter ego of my own self would be capable of taking a woman so… brutally. I had shown her no mercy, no quarter. I had taken without asking. I had used pleasure as a weapon.
I grimaced at the taste of stale cigar and bourbon in my mouth. Stumbling across the lab, I poured myself a cup of lukewarm coffee and drank. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, but nothing could wipe away the taste of my shame.
The worst part was I wasn’t ashamed of what I’d done to her under the influence of Hyde and the formula. I was ashamed of how much I liked it. And ashamed of how badly I wanted to do it again…