Written by L. E. Ravenhart

BDSM
12 Feb 2012


PLEASE BE AWARE THIS STORY IS EROTIC HORROR SO IT IS VERY VIOLENT AND NOT FOR THE FAINT HEARTED. IT IS ONLY FICTION, HONEST.

I busied myself in preparation to enlighten you on how you and I are bewilderingly similar; both have an unnerving appetite for the more macabre aspects of life. But where I slake my lusting with a salted taste of revenge, you my Beloved, you crave the more innocent offering of the unknown. How intriguing a soul you must possess for it not to fill with the agony of innocents.

You truly are a master. And I, I am in awe.

Your refusal to bow down to the normality of the sheep around you is as invigorating as it is humbling. I believe there is much we could teach one another.

Do not fear, I would never be so foolhardy to attempt to rein you in. Not I. I would prefer to learn at your side, my Beloved, so we could redefine what fear should really taste like.

Have you ever tasted from your victims? Have you ever felt their life force refresh your own? It is an addictive lusting, which thrills through your nerves releasing an orgasmic fire unlike anything any sexual encounter could deliver.

So my Beloved, do you dare follow the White Rabbit? Or would your heart like to belie reason and learn more about who I really am inside?

“Look into my eyes, tell me what you see. As the mask of sanity slowly slips, look closer and you will find ME!”

I will forever be indebted to you for the trust in which you bestowed on me, and my loyalty, like my lifeblood will eternally be yours.

Now back to business; if you are still reading my tale then you are as fascinated by me as I with you.

Many, because of my age, treat me as a child but yet I have lived through so much more than most would care to even imagine.

Raised by an alcoholic, abusive father and a self-hating victimised mother, I grew up alone and fast. Learning to dodge an ever-increasing barrage of physical abuse I became withdrawn from all around me. I lived in a small farm house miles from anywhere, so interaction with people was confined to my father’s friends whom I avoided avidly, and the occasional visit from the local postman. I lived in an area where the fields would stretch out for miles until they touched the sky, broken only by a miss mash of hills and valleys. As you can imagine natural life was ever present, and with this life came the cycle of death.

Animal bones would be my one great treasure in a childhood with few. As would the rotting corpses I crossed paths with in my desire to be as far away from my parents as possible.

And from here grew my lusting for death.

I believe with my whole soul that to drink another’s blood you bring their being into yourself, but you must be careful from whom you drink. Only those whose being would make you a force to be reckoned with should be taken, so as to feed the Beast within.

But yet here I apologise my Beloved, for I diverge from the path of my tale. I shall continue…

Growing up in an abusive home I learnt that that was how life was meant to be. - A woman deserved no better than to be kicked like a dog for the slightest transgression. – This upbringing failed me later when city life became my normality.

For years I went through the motions of being used and abused by men I really wanted to trust. Violence, rape, you name it, at some point some bastard or other thought the world was due him something so he took it out on me. I accepted this all with a silent tongue – as a woman should – until the day I lost my first child.

I was so proud of the fact that I could still create life within myself. It was something that I had always felt was beyond my capabilities, that I just couldn’t wait to tell the world.

The father of my child was more mentally abusive than physically abusive so I had learnt to tune out to his rantings a long time before. At first he seemed happy enough at the prospect of becoming a father but as the months went by his insecurities started to surface and he began to hit me when he was enraged. A few weeks before the end of my pregnancy, he hit me particularly hard, knocking me to the floor. I could not move, as I was very dazed. I remember he took a knife from the back of his jeans, I didn’t even know it was there, and he came towards me with it yelling about “cutting that fucking bastard child out” of me.

The fear you feel for your life is nothing compared to the fear you feel for the life of your unborn child, and from somewhere unbeknown to myself, I found the strength to stand against him. I was not quick enough when he attacked me, and the knife plunged deep into my stomach, piercing my child in the process.

I became like an enraged animal. I pulled the knife from my stomach and with strength I never realised I had I attacked him.

I caught him off guard and he fell at the first thrust of the knife, but that was not enough for me. I continued to plunge the knife deep into his body over and over again. His warm blood covered my arms, my face and pretty soon the whole room we were in. That was how I learnt just how easy it is to paint a room red.

Finally I had no more strength left and I realised he was dead, as was my unborn child.

Determined not to cry out, I cut my child out of my stomach. As I lay in a pool of blood cradling a child I would never see grow up I knew I must find a way to cover up all the events of that day.

After that the day is a blur.

I do no more remember leaving my home and dead child, as I remember how I closed the open wound in my stomach. Years of being invisible had finally paid off.

I moved from town to town never staying anywhere for more than a few months, but always managing to find some bastard of a man who though the world owed him something.

I loved the hunt. Well what can I say; it just became natural to me. I would kill and eat the heart of my victims.

How do you kill my Beloved? arouse you to take a life?

I remember watching Natural Born Killers and thinking “oh my god I have become that”.

Do not ask me how I have covered my tracks all these years, for the truth is I have no idea. After the kill my mind dazes out like another personality takes over and I, I am left in blissful ignorance of the aftermath I have created.

Now to you my Beloved, tell me who you are and what has made you what you have become?

That which we love we come to resemble. Our union can only be a glorious blood bath waiting to happen.

If you were to ask me of my hunting trips what could I tell you but the truth, I LOVED THEM!

Do you know how easy it is to use sex as a weapon? How ironic that the one reason for me to kill was also the one path I knew to follow to make the kill.

I shall explain…

Like I mentioned before I took only bastards for victims. To me their blood just tasted even sweeter than that of an innocent. After all, had not my unborn child been an innocent? It was a path I did not intend to walk.

I was always a sly fox when it came to the victim. Many a time I would approach my kill just enough to be noticed and enticing but far enough away that if he wanted me he would have to follow where I led. I became their fantasy, their unicorn, so very close but still just out of reach, until I decided otherwise.

After hunting my victim for several days, and learning their unique habits, I was able to pass myself off as a sweet, young innocent. I would allow them to believe that I hung on their every word, as if they were the centre of my world. I became what they wanted me to become. I allowed them to believe they were “grooming” me for some twisted desire they felt the need to vent. I had learnt well as a child how to observe another person’s behaviour pattern, so I knew all the responses straight off the bat. Understandably each had his own slight variation on the theme, but generally I intrigued them by how quick I was to follow their desires.

It is funny, but once a man feels he has ‘his victim’ exactly where he wants them and how, he becomes careless and sloppy.

For example, one night after about two weeks in the company of one victim, who liked to tie my hands to a metal ring above his bed so I would not leave whilst he slept, he forgot to refasten the bonds to keep me in place, I enjoyed making him suffer. He was a cruel, vile man who delighted in torturing his sexual partners in a variety of sordid ways. The cabinets around his room were full of the most horrific ‘toys’ you could ever imagine. And although I alone shared his bed to sleep, I was never the only one he fulfilled himself with.

I became his favourite as I knew how to play the game by his rules, but some nights I could hear the cries of agony coming from his bed. I knew the more his ‘partners’ screamed the more he tortured them. – Sometimes I would scream louder just to see exactly what he could do. – He had no idea he was being played.

After one particularly rough night, he exhausted himself so much that he forgot to rebind my hands. I lay there still and silent not daring to make a single move until I knew without a shadow of a doubt he was unconscious. Very carefully, making no sound at all, I managed to bind his arms into place. Knowing he could not move from such a prone position I became emboldened and I decided to take my time making him suffer. I knew the cabinets around his room well. Each housed a collection of spiked leather binds, gags, whips, sharpened knives and glass dildos.

Removing a selection of the most harmful looking items I approached his slumbering form.

Gently I eased myself onto his prone form. Holding a slender, razor sharp dagger to his throat I awakened him.

“ Hush now my Master,” as he liked to be called, “ I am about to show you just how quickly your life can turn to shit! Open your mouth like a good little boy now. What a pity you missed my claws.”

With an eager force I rammed a particularly biting ball gag into his mouth and fastened it around his head. Once I knew he was silenced I removed the knife from his throat. Then my fun really began.

I knew he would take young men into his bed as well as women; his tastes were limitless. But I also knew that for as much as he fucked them, he himself had never been violated in that respect.

I wanted to enjoy every moment with him squirming beneath me. Slowly, with deliberate force I began whipping his dick, until it was red raw. Then so as to confuse him slightly, I slid his dick into my mouth.

I could hear him start to moan with panicked pleasure. Enough! I was not doing this for him; I was doing it for myself! I bit his dick until I could taste the saltiness of warm blood flowing into my mouth. Poor baby, he could not even cry out in pain, such was the tightness of his gag.

Oh but I was not finished yet. I took to whipping his body all over until it was covered in bloody red welts. I ran the dagger over his chest and down towards his bleeding dick, digging deeper into his flesh as I went. Soon his bed was a flood of crimson. Finally just as his life was ebbing away I plunged the glass dildo into him.

What hellish mean streak inspired what happened next, I would never comprehend.

I shattered the dildo whilst it was still inside his body, and from the look in his eyes he realised without another word passing between us, exactly why I was killing him this way.

As he lay dying I drank from the knife wounds in his chest until I could feel his heart ready to stop beating.

I killed him that night with such a cold heart that I had no problem what so ever leaving his corpse to rot where it lay. I knew no one would come looking for me as he had many enemies who liked to acquire their entertainment from those they killed.

I would be seen as an acceptable loss.

It seems strange even to me, but that night I showered, changed my clothes and then just walked right out of his world.

So my Beloved, now you know the beginning of my story about who I am and what I have done, do you still deem me worthy to follow your path?

I find it very startling, my Beloved, that even after sharing with you the beginnings of my tale, I still find myself asking you if you deem me worthy of following in your path. Take care how you walk with me for I am more animalistic than you could ever believe, and although to me you are a savoured curiosity, you are by no means an innocent. For now, we are equals.

I have never held much sway with the company of humans. Animals to me are much more loyal and trustworthy. To know that out of sheer malice you have inflicted great harm on an animal may well be the only point in our union in which problems would occur.

Again another divergence, again I apologise.

Knowing how fucked up and twisted my next thoughts appear, I will try to explain the paradoxical reality of my life.

I am in reality a very spiritual person, which seems insane considering I kill without mercy. But I never take innocent blood if I can help it. In early childhood I became attuned to the auras of the dead. I realised that an innocent soul could be either a burden or a friend, and an evil soul could be trapped and used to install fear into those who believed.

Do not confuse spirituality with religion; they will never be the same thing.

I would love to stay the night in your company. I wonder just how enticingly vicious our union could be?

I can feel your hands tight around my neck as I sit here day dreaming about fucking you. My tolerance for pain is great, my Beloved, so any demons you would care to release, would be welcomed by my own.

You are unsure of me, I can tell. You do not know how much of what I tell you are real and how much you would like to believe is a fallacy. I saw a flicker of uncertainty in your eyes when you looked at me. Do you fear me, my Beloved? Am I not just another innocent to you now, my Beloved?

I have seldom had sex to make love. Sex to me has almost always been a way to punish and kill my victims. There have been a couple of exceptions to that rule, but not many. I can tell there is a part of you who feels the same. I can taste it in your words. But with you my Beloved, it would be about crossing all boundaries together. I would love to describe in detail what I would have you do to me, but I would rather show you. Do you dare?

As you are aware no doubt, I have not always restrained myself to one victim at a time. Multiple victims have at times held a delectable flavouring.

When I have had multiple victims in a night and thanks to my animalistic nature I have walked away bruised but at least I was able to walk away.

Walking along an empty street in the early hours of a winter morning was where I crossed paths with a man who seemed a little lost. As much of a bitch as I can be, I will help someone if they are in need, (its part of the innocents thing), even if that person happens to be male. Well I was not really surprised to find that this man was not in fact lost but had with his friends help been tracking my movements for numerous minutes. As I approached him to offer my help I heard footsteps behind me closing fast. I do not know about you, my Beloved, but I carry a knife with me at all times, such is the quarry I hunt. As I turned to confront whoever was approaching from behind, the man in front grabbed me by the neck and pulled me closer to his stinking, aroused body. I could feel his excitement digging into the small of my back, and for a split second I myself became disgustingly aroused. As I opened my mouth to warn them of their mistake the man approaching slapped me across the face, all the while demanding that I would stay silent if I knew what was good for me. Oh how imbecilic some men are. I am aware I do not look like I could defend my self but remember you should never judge a book by its cover, and I, well I had not had much entertainment as yet in this town, as I had not long arrived.

I must admit the slap he gave me rung my bell and for a while I stood limp in my captors arms while they discussed what they would do with me. Fuck I loved playing the victim, it is the look on their faces when they realise their folly that really makes me whet.

It was decided to make it look like I was drunk so if anyone passed us they would be in the clear. I was warned to play along and not make any noise at all. I am a bitch! I have a vicious streak to match any sadist! I also a have masochistic ability to endure large amounts of pain! So me being me, I complied until they brought me “home”.

Once through the door their fun began. I was stripped naked and dragged into a room that looked more like a dungeon than a bedroom. My kind of room.

It was sparsely furnished with only a metal A-frame bolted to the centre of the floor, and a cabinet of sorts in one corner. On this cabinet was a pocket taser. Like I said my kind of room! The room was lit by only one bare red bulb, hanging like a defiled image of the phallic. Classy, very classy.

Knowing that once I was tied into the A-frame I would be their toy, I proceeded to do the first thing that entered my head. I begged them to have mercy. My pleading threw them for a short time. I had been so quiet and so cooperative up until that point that for a moment they realised I had a voice.

They sneered at my pleas and made jibes about how they were going to use every inch of my body to pleasure every inch of theirs, they became very cock sure. I can be seductive when I want to be and I made sure these two bastards would drop their guard with me.

It only took a blink of an eye before I had the one in front of me lying in a ball at my feet. I just love giving a deserving man a ‘loving’ kick to the balls. He crumbled like a house of cards in a breeze. The other was slightly more problematic. After seeing just how quickly his friend had been taken out of the game, he was very weary about releasing my left arm. I was still naked, but that did not stop me. I started playing with my pussy, to entice the other closer. I whispered that I had only kicked his friend because I wanted to be taken by him alone. How gullible some men are? He released my arm directing me on how to play with myself for his pleasure. I countered by asking him to bind his friend himself so we would not be interrupted. The fool did as I requested. I stood watching as he tied his friend to the A-frame. When his back was turned I grabbed the taser and pressed it to his neck. He fell like a stone. As he was still holding his friend I shocked both of them together. I was once again in control. What a rush.

I made sure neither could move then I dressed and sat waiting for them to regain consciousness. A pale winter’s dawn was breaking the skyline when they awoke. Needless to say neither was impressed by the turn of events that had befallen them.

By this time I had had more than enough time to investigate their cabinet closer. (I will never understand why it has to be a cabinet, why not an ottoman or something even more hideous?) Same little boys, same little toys. I was in heaven.

There is only so many ways you can whip and abuse another person’s body, but even if unoriginal I really did love having fun.

The taser, I found had a number of different settings and I also found something that looked remarkably like a battery pack with a cock ring attached. I wondered just how bestial these boys would have been with my body given the chance.

I took great delight in shocking them continuously with the taser. I found if I used a low enough current setting often enough, then my victim would not lose consciousness but their body hair and skin would start to burn. I loved the smell of burnt flesh. For me it held a highly erotic undertone of sheer torture. I did not care if they cried out, for who would hear them and if heard, who would care. Their little dungeon for inflicting pain became my playground. For hours I beat, burnt and cut both bodies. I would continuously switch between them giving each one just enough time to refrain from passing out.

As the sun went down and the light faded from the sky I grew bored of my game and I became hungry. I had tasted human flesh before and I was quite partial to its flavour.

Like I said I am very animalistic at times, this was one of those times. Cutting into their chests, first one then the other, I removed their hearts. Warm, fresh, still pulsing with the energy of life, I ate their hearts. They did not scream as I removed them. I think they were, by that point too exhausted and too drained of blood to fear what I did.

They died silently.

I remember placing the electric cock ring on one victims and leaving the power on. I knew it would not take long for his body to ignite into flames and with it the whole sordid room of their twisted universe.

The following day I moved on.

Again without looking back I walked away from that town.

So, my Beloved, do you trust me to play nice with you? Do you realise that even though I have only outlined some of my kills I have in actual fact amassed many, many more.

I was then and will always be a predator. Could you tame me?

I DARE YOU TO TRY!

I began to think, my Beloved, that perhaps I should explain to you more about my childhood. I have done many twisted things in my past, my Beloved, things you could in all truth possibly relate to. I, as you are aware, have always been a very sexual person. From an early age sex was not something I was unaware of. From the age of six, a female friend and I were starting to become sexually curious. This curiosity lasted for only a matter of months but in that time I developed a strange appetite that was whetted even more two years later this time by a male friend. I do no more consider these fumblings as rape or abuse as they were consensual, but very few people know of them. Like I told you before, my mother was physically abused and I grew to associate her screams with her being beaten. Even screams of sexual pleasure in my twisted mind became screams of pain. To me sex became known as a fight. A battle, from which, only one would walk away. To this day, my Beloved, I will not scream during sex. Why should I give any bastard the pleasure of thinking he has got the better of me? If I scream it is to tease, nothing more. Could you make me scream, my Beloved? Are you man enough, vicious enough, strong enough to play me at my own game and win? I would bleed you in seconds, my Beloved, for do not underestimate the resources of a bitch! I would tear you apart.

But at least it would be fun. For Me!

I sit and fantasise about how good you would feel between my legs and how sweet your blood would taste pouring into my mouth, as you are completely in my control.

Would you struggle, my Beloved? Would you make me pay for dominating you? Or would you enjoy the abuse?

You learn to enjoy and love what you know, no matter how vile and degrading.

You, like me, my Beloved, are a twisted enigma. I do not know why I crave for a taste of you, maybe I just see my vicious side mirrored in you and it entices me to revel in who I am and the beast within.

I have had you in my hands. I have felt how much heat you radiate. How much lusting pours from your touch. How much desire flows through you. In essence I have stolen your soul.

You admitted to me you kill because you are insecure. Killing, to you, is a way of gaining control in a world where so few things can be controlled without violence. I, well I admire that side of you. I understand your past as you do mine, and there is nothing I fear in you.

Do not ever fool yourself, my Beloved, I do no more fear you than I fear the bastards I kill. But to fuck you, that would be a prize to take.

I sat looking into your eyes; I could see all your longings and your secrets from your past. How many victims have you attained, my Beloved? Do you see me as another victim? Or am I an equal for now, as you are to me?

Do the demons of your actions follow you, my Beloved? Do you hear them howling with rage when a victim escapes? Or am I the first to escape?

You told me yourself, you made the first move between us. I willingly acknowledge that at the time I was hunting another, but we both know what happened to that bastard! My only question would be, how much of a hand did you have in his demise? Do you want me for yourself that badly, my Beloved? Do you dare take me?

I do not regret the path my life follows, to do so would be a folly of the heart.

I grew strong in an adolescence filled with abuse. I do not take any shit from any of the bastards I cross paths with as a result. Do you believe I would take it from you?

I know you would like to touch me, my Beloved, but I see that caution stays your hand. Why, if you are so vicious do you hesitate? Have you seldom-crossed paths with one such as I? Do you fear me, or do you only fear what we could do to one another? How tempting is such a union to you?

As, by your own admission, I know how vicious you can be my Beloved, I would take extra care with you. I would bind your hands above your head so as to stop you from restraining me, and then I would strip you naked so I could tease you for as long as I pleased. Believe me when I tell you I would take great delight in removing your clothes with the knife I carry. I promise not to make you bleed… much! I would have to start with licking and biting your neck, ears and lips. I would never kiss you, as that would be far too intimate for our tastes. I would work my way down your body slowly, building up the pressure of my touch as I went. I would take great delight in running the cold steel blade of my knife over your skin. Your nipples would be teased with ice and warm water. As you can well imagine after all my years of hunting I have not only amassed a vast amount of victims but I have also collected such ‘toys’ that would make your skin crawl.

My favourite without a doubt has to be, of course, the taser. Such a small ‘toy’ can cause such discomfort that I will always hold a special place for it in my heart. Would you trust me enough to try?

The answer regrettably is probably not.

You have made it well known that you fear the repercussions of our joining, my Beloved. I understand now that Bravado and Bull will only carry a person so far. I am aware you fear the intensity of my actions. I have never fully held with personal restraint, I have always just taken what I wanted. But I know now I cannot have you. NOT NOW! NOT EVER!

Such a pity so many vicious things we could have done. All left unsaid.

I respect your wishes, my Beloved, even though they pain me to the core. I am now and will forever be yours.

Do not look for me, for you will find only your grave. I will be watching you from the shadows.

GOODBYE, MY BELOVED.

It has been almost a month since we said goodbye and in that time you have visited me to destroy me.

I felt your hand on my heart as I floated between reality and unreality. Your grasp was out of anger and hatred, I felt your grip tighten but I was not scared. I know you wanted to kill me, but yet here I am alive today. My spirit is as strong as yours; you will not break me easily.

I know you love me, my Beloved, as you know I love you, but that does not change the fact that you will not share your lust to kill with me.

We could have caused misery, mayhem and bloodshed in our ever step.

It pains me to know I still crave to walk that path, as I hope you do, my Beloved.

I admit my vicious side got the better of me and I turned you from equal to victim with one swipe of my claws, which above all else I regret.

I look into your eyes and I see a desire you have to hide, a lusting, a love you know to be damaging to your life. I maintain the fact that you fear to be involved with me. Do you fear me also, my Beloved? I can be as deadly as you can, as well you know.

You know I felt you try to kill me! My awareness of you and our love for each other stayed your hand. But for how long? Will you try to kill me again because I don’t play your games by your rules?

You know as well as I that I would follow you into the mouth of Hell; such is the strength of my love for you. But your rejection stings me to the core, and now I know we will never hunt together.

I can envision the hunt we share so clearly, I can taste your desire and our victim’s life ebbing away.

As well you know I take only Bastards, the scum of the world. Not to avenge the innocent or their victims but because to me they taste the sweetest! But you, my Beloved, have a more varied pallet, I wish to indulge in.

Teach me to still the voices within as the last drop of life flows from my victim, and draws them to death.

Our hunt would be divine. We would meet in secret after travelling separately to our hunting ground. Joining as one before the kill. Knowing I would be changing my M.O. I would watch you closely, my Beloved, imitating your every move.

Our first joint kill would be female. Do not ask me how I know, just accept that I do.

A street girl looking for a party, and a quick pay off for spreading her legs to us. She asks for the money up front as we are (in her eyes) a couple and she knows how some women become once they see their men shagging this exotic whore.

Payment is made without any comment on the obvious over pricing of her body. We both know, my Beloved, that before the night is through her corpse will be drained of blood; raped and robbed of any and all valuables she may posses. We take her to an abandoned factory. A location we agreed on when we investigated this hunting ground.

She does not understand why we wish to ‘party’ here but I encourage her soothingly by agreeing to pay her double her price if she indulges our unique fantasy. She agrees, the money-grabbing whore, perhaps after all she does deserve to die.

We lead her into the empty factory. It is dark, dirty and I can tell just by looking around that no one but you and I have been here for years, so the chances of her body being found are very slim. We move further into the factory into the heart of the building. I see the look in your eye, my Beloved, I can tell by your breathing and the growing erection you are trying to hide that this is what you desire. Finally we arrive in a room, which looks like an old style meat locker. The solid walls will muffle her screams nicely.

As agreed you start to direct us into how to play with each other. I strip her slowly for your pleasure, as she does to me. Soon we are standing naked before you. You command us to play. I reach out and touch her body; she shudders in response as I run my hand down her 34C breasts, stroking, caressing, and rubbing her nipples into bullet hard points. My tongue follows my hand. Her skin is so soft, like velvet, warm and responsive to my touch. I can taste the salt of her sweat and it fuels my lusting. I can hear your breathing, my Beloved, your excitement is becoming harder for you to ignore. She moans softly as I run my hand down her aroused body, to slide my fingers into her warm, wet pussy. Her excitement becomes such a thrill to me I pull her hand down towards my own wet pussy. I am shaved at your command, my Beloved; she is trim but not fully to your tastes. When we investigated this factory, our new playground for the evening, we also made sure to equip this room with everything we would need.

Being the ‘Gentleman’ that you are, my Beloved, you place a blanket on the floor for us. We lay together, her and I, licking each other’s clits. Knowing that you are also enjoying the show makes my pussy throb into an exquisite orgasm, (Something I never do until the moment of the kill.) I come to you, leaving her lying on the blanket. By now your excitement has grown to the point of explosion, as I remove your clothes your stiffened penis takes on a life of its own. I take you by the hand, my Beloved, leading you to our prey. I watch as you mount her to pleasure yourself.

You have trained me well, my Beloved, for I do not remain idle. I gather our ‘toy’ so the real fun can begin. Silently laying the dagger under the edge of the blanket I run my hand down your spine, tracing a line down your body until I cup your balls in my hand, squeezing them with just enough force for you to know we are ready.

As planned, my Beloved, you move her on to her knees. From there we are both able to be pleasured. As you start to fuck her again, you grab her hair forcing her head down into my pussy. She is an expert with her tongue and soon I feel the need to cum again. I catch your eye knowing the time is almost upon us. As you move your hand from her head, I knowing my place, replace your hand with my own. I watch with growing pleasure as you reach for the dagger beside you.

Poor little street girl oblivious to everything but the fucking she is receiving knows nothing of our plan.

This pleases you, not, my Beloved. I can see your hand tremble slightly as your own orgasm fights to be released. As fast as a snake you grab her hair pulling her head up exposing her throat to me. You have a practised hand, my Beloved. With one deep cut you sever her from life. Her warm blood flows all over my body as I lunge towards her wound to drink. As she struggles into death her spasmodic rocking forces you into orgasm. You pull out in just enough time to shoot your cum into her bloody wound. I drink the mixture with zeal.

Soon she lies dead, but our lusting has not yet been slaked. I take your hand, my Beloved, to run it down my body. Her blood still covers my flesh, this knowledge seems to excite you again, until all too soon you are biting and tearing at my body. You push me down onto the blood soaked blanket, next to her dead body, so you can force your dick into me. My body has become your toy. The dagger is still by your side so you use it to cut my body. My blood mixes with hers as you fuck me harder and faster. You long to kill me, my Beloved, I can see it in your eyes.

Love stops you, my Beloved. You cum once again, then without a word you dress and leave.

I know our paths will cross again in time, for as I watch you from the shadows, so too will you be watching me.

I will love you forever, my Beloved, but I will never be yours. No matter how much I crave it.

Until next time.

Goodbye, my Beloved.


Comment