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He slaps her breast. I lurch as if I could feel it. I cup my heavy aching breast, the rosebud nipple so painfully puckered like an unripe berry. I pluck at my erect buds as I watch him punish her body, pumping his fingers in her sex and sucking her plump clitoris. But there’s no response. She is nothing more than a beautifully preserved goddess corpse.
I know what this is doing to me. I knowwhyit rouses a dark depravity that has me rooted to the sight like a sick and twisted girl of disturbed thoughts and morbid libido. It takes me back. Way back to that place, I don’t wish to go.
But this…this is a profound, beautiful, and dark rewrite of my trauma. I couldn’t possibly look away.
He spanks her breast, hard. To punish her. He twists and pulls at the nipples, tugging to shake her tits. I tease and twist my buds the same, spilling tears and fluids.
And then, he strikes her pussy. He opens her folds, growls, and hits her cunt.
“Wake up!” he commands. “Wake the fuck up!”
I long to go to him. To hold him because I can feel the gravity of his pain, his fury. To think, the most haunted and woeful soul in all Purgatory is the one who rules its very heart.
When he enters her, buries himself to the hilt, spears her on that beast of a cock, stretching her folds so far untilthey are puffy and swollen, I double over. Quaking. Spasming. Convulsing. Seismic waves of pleasure erupt inside me. He captures her clit while he fucks her.
I stab my fingers inside me, pumping them through my release, stemming the onslaught of my hot juices as Eros takes his pleasure, riding Psyche’s corpse, slamming into her with all the lust, hatred, and love that only the son of Chaos, possibly can. Trying to rouse her. He rouses me instead. He obliterates me!
I don’t know how many times I go over the edge. Or how many times I swallow my whimpers and gulp back my moans.
“Fucking wake up!” he roars and rams his cock so deep into her, jerking his hips, gripping her throat, and throwing his head back while he finds his release.
I go over the edge again, coming hard as I imagine his hot ropes of cum shooting into my mortal sex.
With an agitated growl, Eros climbs out of his lifeless wife’s casket. I don’t realize I still have my fingers in my center until I’ve flinched from him driving his fist into the wood. It doesn’t crack.
After he cleans himself off in the adjoining pool, Eros throws on a heavy robe and departs down a different passage. Not a care in the world. He doesn’t even close her casket. Like he didn’t just defile his wife’s body.
My twisted curiosity overcomes me, and I enter the chamber. My bare footsteps take me right to her casket. I wince at her naked pussy, so red and swollen from how hard he took her, her nipples fat and marked from his teeth. Her breasts are reddened from where he spanked them.
Her hair is a sweeping cascade of liquid sunlight, the only shroud for her nudity. Her heart-shaped lips are serene. And she is so warm, I marvel as I hover my fingers above her chest, not daring to brush her skin.
She is timeless, untouched by death. Knitting my brows, I notice the rise and fall of her chest. Again, that morbid curiosity grips me with the sense of her essence, the understanding of how he plundered her, fucked her lifeless form.
Except, she seems too real. So raw, a portrait of goddess divinity and an echo of Eros’s love.
Closing my eyes and cursing myself for this, I skim my fingers over her skin and slowly place my palm on the left side of her chest. At the first telltale beat, I jerk back in alarm.
Oh gods, her heartbeat. She is not dead, not a corpse. She is alive!
A fluttering of lashes catches my eye. I squint, but it’s impossible. After what he did, how much he did to her…I lean in, studying her delicate lashes. And swifter than the flap of a hummingbird’s wing, they open!
Hollow eyes. Vacant. Unseeing.
But she turns to me as if she is aware.
“Psyche?” I whisper.
She opens her mouth. Her jaw itself detaches. I choke on horror at the same time that she launches for me. In less than a second, she’s upon me, her hands around my throat in a fierce strangle. Icy terror freezes my blood. Her teeth gnash as she makes shrill, strident screams. Feral ones. I struggle beneath her. Air siphoned from my lungs. She’s stronger than she seems.
My trauma response kicks in. All I can think of is flight, the need to fly, to run, to escape, get out!
Get out, get out, get out!My sister’s screams haunt me.Go to the closet, Aria. Hide. Stay there. Do not come out until I say.
Darkness closes in like a fist. I remember shuddering, curled into myself with the sounds of slamming doors, breaking glass, and furniture thrown beyond the doors of my bedroom. I covered my ears, but I could still hear the screams.
Psyche’s screams surround me. Somehow, I find the strength to pry her hands from my throat.
Then, her body is flung off mine. And the great boundless abyss of Eros’s gargoyle eyes bears down upon me.
