This is how I always imagined it.
I never thought I’d be balls deep inside her when it happened, but it was better that way. I was consuming her in every sense, taking everything I could.
But anger beat me round the head.
I didn’t want to look at her face. That smug fucking face, so full of deception and trickery. She ran her fingers through the blood on her stomach, feeling out the word I’d carved, pressing and prodding into the pain, groaning. Paying no mind to the blade at her neck.
She shrieked when I ripped my cock from her body and slammed her hands to her sides. But it was more in indignation than shock.
I couldn’t look at that face anymore, that vacant, drifting face that just wasn’t. Fucking. Her. I climbed up her body, pinning her arms with my legs, crushing them beneath my knees, and I grabbed her head, not giving her a second before I shoved my cock into her mouth.
I slammed home, fucking her skull like it was a toy, like she was a cheap flesh light. She bit me, gargling and squirming as I took, clawing into her hair, not giving her a chance to suck in any air.
She toyed with death, demanded it from me; maybe this would be the way she went.
I pinched her nostrils together without looking down, not wanting to see her eyes, to learn if she was enjoying this. That fake Penelope looked up at me, and I needed her to go away.
I didn’t stop slamming into her face, teeth, nasal bridge and all, until I came, flooding her mouth with my cum.
She didn’t swallow, didn’t move her tongue or lap at my softening cock. I gave myself two beats to breathe the moment in before pulling out and looking down, cradling her head in my hands. Nothing, no movement. A slack face and jaw, eyes empty.
Dead.
Or unconscious. Her expression was loose, her eyes closed, cum dribbled from between her lips. I slapped her cheek twice, and just when I thought it was all over, she took in a ragged breath.
I didn’t know whether to feel pleased or disappointed.
Still holding her head too tight, I ducked down and licked her lips, running my tongue over her slack mouth to catch all that cum and spit. She wasn’t wasting it. Fuck that.
As she remained unconscious, her breathing rough but there, I flipped her over, my mouth full of cum, and spat it onto her ass, pushing it all inside her with my fingers. I wanted her to feel it, to notice it when she stood, have the taste of me on her tongue and a gush from her loose, ruined asshole.
She didn’t wake up when I shoved her onto her back again and slapped her cheek for the second time.
It pissed me off. Fifteen. We were at fifteen slices. Not counting the little nick on her neck.
Not fucking good enough.
I reached for the knife, and with fury churning me, stabbed her in the shoulder, right where it wouldn’t be fatal, would only be a flesh wound. Then I did it again, the snick of the blade as it drove into her loud, unyielding.
The second time woke her up with a scream. She gasped, sucking in deep, ragged breaths as her world caught up.
“I thought that was it,” she said after an age, her voice hoarse, sore, as she grasped at her bleeding wounds. Still not fucking reacting like it hurt, like she was afraid, more like she was curious. Anger rocketed through me, and I grabbed her throat, squeezed, even though it would be hoarse, even though I’d just fucked her unconscious.
Her eyes flashed.
Fear.
That was actual fear.
Fuck yes.
I crushed harder. “That’s it,” I whispered, leaning nose to broken nose with her, kissing her lips. “Feel that fear, you cunt.”
Her hands came up to claw at my arm, digging sharp nails into my flesh until I bled, but I didn’t stop, taking away her breath, welcoming in her fear.
Something changed, shifted in her rabid and dangerous; blankness gone. She was trying to speak, opening and closing her mouth, straining until the blood vessels in her face burst, as she went purple.
I loosened a fraction to hear what nonsense she might be about to spout, but she used it. She kicked me from behind, throwing me off balance.
