Even at an age not appropriate for a man in his sixties, his pets were groomed to ensure they upheld the utmost wholesomeness until well into their teens. Bike riding, gymnastics, horse riding, and even swimming were off the agenda. They sat on poufy cushions, washed with only the slightest spray of water, and never wore undergarments that would scratch or erode the skin my father was fascinated with, but even then, it was rare to find an untouched woman with an intact hymen.
My father saw them as gifts, a treasure to hold onto for eternity, and that is precisely what he would have done with Megan if he discovered what I had unearthed in our hotel room only two nights ago. She would have been his pet, his little doll. His plaything.
Now, she’ll forever be the woman who took him down.
I’d laugh at the absurdity a man of such wealth and power was taken down by a woman with the mental capacity of a fifteen-year-old girl if I weren’t concerned the same thing is about to happen to me.
I toy with women.
I break them then slowly piece them back together.
I do not lick up evidence of the pain I’m causing them with my tongue before promising it will feel good soon. Megan is making me soft, but until the adrenaline of watching the light fade from my father’s eyes wanes, I’ll let her get away with it.
“Just a little more pain,” I whisper down Megan’s ear while scissoring the two fingers I slipped inside her when she bit my chest to conceal her howled sob. “Then I’ll make it better. I’ll fuck you and mark you before covering you with my cum. Then when people look at you, they won’t see a poor, scared little girl. They’ll see a warrior. A misfit. A fucking skitzo who should have never been misunderstood. You won’t apologize again once I’m done with you. But they will. Every single person who has done you wrong will be on their knees, begging for their lives.”
My promise brings Megan out of the trenches and sees her clawing from the dark hole I pushed her in. The walls of her tight cunt stopped fighting against my fingers. She opens up for me, and her obedience is rewarded in the most brilliant way. Instead of stuffing my cock inside her as it begged to do when she crawled onto my lap with the blood of my father dripping from her hands, I walk her to the desk that the clerk would still be sitting behind if he hadn’t danced with the devil and lost.
Once I have the beaten wood cleared away of pens, clipboards, keys, and a half-consumed sandwich, I plant Megan’s backside on top before pushing her back so her shoulder blades brace the battered material.
Itskher after taking in the mess she’s made of her panties. They’re flicked with droplets of blood, but that isn’t the only thing they’re exposing. They are drenched through and erotically exposing her delicious cunt to my hungry-yet-on-the-verge-of-psychosis eyes.
“Is this for me or him?”
Megan doesn’t talk, she’s as mute as I wish I had been when my father suggested I come up with a punishment for my mother when she arrived one minute late the night he made me convince her that I believed her, but I swear she mutters, “You,” before a terrifying memory almost strongarms me into another debilitating relapse.
I told my mother to pack her things and meet me at the big grandfather clock on the second floor at precisely twelve midnight. When the clock struck twelve, I thought she had skipped the flames.
I stopped thinking she wanted what was best for me when she hustled onto the second story landing only a minute later.
Her punishment was severe that night, and I never saw her again after it. Don’t get me wrong, she was present, there was just nothing inside her but a ghost of a woman.
After shaking my head to clear it of the dread weighing down my senses more than the drugs my father laced my drink with, I snap off Megan’s panties to survey the damage firsthand.
The quickest crack of the elastic of her panties against her silky skin causes it to pinken with heat. It also doubles her erotic scent.
“I told you I wouldn’t need to see your cunt to know it’s dripping.” I scrape up some of the mess with my index finger before popping it into my mouth. My cock knocks at my zipper when the combined taste of her arousal and blood activates my taste buds. She tastes delicious. Pure. And she’s so fucking unhinged, I’m about to drag her to the depths of hell right along with me. “Remember you asked for this,” I mutter on a groan before I curl my hand around her throat, pin her to the desk, then burrow my head between her legs.
I lick up the droplets of blood my hand missed when I ripped at her with the bestiality of a savage from her thighs before I snake my tongue up to her soaked slit.
“Still,” I bark out when the weaves of my tongue have her squirming enough to loosen my grip on her throat. She’s a tiny little thing who could easily slip out of my hold, but I like them frozen in fear and too scared to move. It’s what makes them perfect little dolls who do as they’re told and don’t make a sound no matter how bad the punishment.
Not a squeak popped from my mother’s lips when my father punished her the night she mistakenly believed I was on her side. He was cruel, and his bite was more vicious than normal, but she kept her eyes locked on me and her face free of tears.
Her stance to show me she wasn’t afraid had my father seeing red. He whipped her, beat her, then tightened his grip on her throat so firmly, her eyes almost bulged out of her head.
She died twice, but it still wasn’t enough for him. He brought her back again and again and again until the wrong victim snapped.
That was the firstandlast time I struck my father.
His punishment was vicious but oh so worthwhile.
It made me the man I am today.
It made me stronger—strong enough to know that if I don’t weaken my grip on Megan’s neck, more than a man striving to emerge from the thick cloak of sedation will crack. Her neck will as well.
Against the better judgment of my deviant head, I loosen my grip. After watching her over the frantic thrusts of her breasts long enough to know she isn’t close to passing out, I grip her ass, drag her to the edge of the desk, then devour her cunt like I was dying to do when I rid it of every strand of wiry hair.
I bite at her clit a little harder than I should. What can I say? I fucking love the taste of her blood. It is almost as enticing as the dripping wetness leaking from her center. It’s so entrancing, it takes everything I have to remember not to sink my teeth into her heated skin with the same cruelness she instilled on the clerk.
