Chapter 19 #2
Her little clit has been chopped away, but deep beneath the mutilated skin, those delicate nerves are still very much alive… twitching, sensitive, and ready to be tormented.
A low, hungry growl escapes my chest.
I wrap my senses tight around those brittle nerve endings where her clit once was like its own lips.
Then they suck, hard.
Still hovering above her, her spine arches off the bed with a sickening crack, her body seizing as if electrocuted.
A gurgling scream rips out, tearing her lips wider open as I latch onto those mangled, hypersensitive stumps and destroy them with ravenous hunger.
And the sensation I’m feeding off her is fucking exhilarating.
Her pleasure, her pain, and her raw fear flood into me all at once. A delicious, addictive cocktail that makes my cock throb painfully and my tendrils twitch with ecstasy, and I drink it down like the finest nectar.
Two thick tendrils whip out from my back and coil around her thighs, wrenching her legs so wide apart that her hips creak and the tendons strain near snapping.
Now her pussy is completely exposed, puffy, scarred, and smeared with uncontrollable come, I vibrate and crush those ruined nerves without mercy, forcing her body to betray her completely.
Her back bows impossibly high as a violent orgasm explodes through her, and thick arcs of come spray out of her cunt, splattering across the sheets in powerful jets.
The moment she finishes, I don’t stop.
I start again immediately—sucking harder, vibrating faster, grinding those raw pleasure centres into oblivion.
At the same time, I rub her scarred g-spot viciously from inside her body with my thoughts alone, until another earth-shattering climax rips through her before the first even ends.
Then another. And another. Each climax more brutal than the last.
Her body jerks uncontrollably, squirting come every few seconds, soaking the bed beneath her in betrayed puddles of her own juices.
I moan deeply, lost in the sensation of her torment, consuming every devastating wave of ecstasy and terror flooding out of her.
More. I need so much fucking more.
But I don’t.
That was enough… for now.
I withdraw unhurriedly, pulling my senses out of her thumping core, and I release full control of her body, letting it fall limp beneath me.
Her eyeballs roll forward again, and the white glow fades from my eyes, plunging the room back into darkness.
She just stares up at me, wide-eyed and shattered, her gaze frantically circling my face as if searching for some trace of mercy that will never exist.
Her thoughts are suddenly locked away, seemingly blank, silent, and deliberately hidden from me. Yet her eyes scream a thousand things I can’t fully decipher yet.
Terror, hatred, and broken confusion.
Her breathing is rapid and torn as my tendrils finally release her thighs, slowly unravelling and slithering back beneath my skin.
With a single razor-sharp claw, I reach down and slice a deliberate line down the center of her white silk dress. Then, with a cold breeze, the fabric whispers apart.
She lies rigid beneath me, chest winded, as the icy air washes over her, and reveals her perky tits.
One nipple stands sharp, but the other is completely gone, leaving just a brutal, puckered scar in its place.
Angry slashes of old wounds mar her pastel skin. And for one treacherous second, something almost like curiosity flickers inside me.
What the fuck happened to her before she got here?
These scars are old.
The thought turns dangerously possessive, but I crush it with a deep, feral growl as fast as it came.
I lay my large black hand flat against the center of her chest, and she flinches from the freezing touch.
Then my veins come alive.
Glowing white, writhing coils crawl from my shoulder, down my arm and burrow into her. Her whole body begins to shudder as they spread like dying roots of darkness, forming the intricate, living timer across her soul.
I watch with cold satisfaction as my mark sinks in deeper, counting down the time we have left.
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Sixty-two tally marks shear themselves into her chest, carving deep beneath the soft skin in writhing black ink. Each vicious line burns itself into place with a sickening scratch, like claws dragging through raw meat.
Sixty-two days.
Sixty-two beautiful, agonizing days to torture my new plaything. To break her, to feed on her fear, her shame, and to take her unwilling pleasure until there’s nothing left.
Sixty-two days, little light… I whisper directly into her mind, voice thick with dark promise. Let’s see how much of us survives.
Her brows pinch in confusion, because little does she know… it’s no longer just me against her.
It’s us against each other now, and there’s no going back.
Not for her. Not for me.
This harrowing game has begun, and I have sixty-two days to make her wish she had never summoned me.
I lift my hand from her chest, the fresh black tally marks still pulsing beneath her skin.
“They call me Krool,” I say out loud, my voice a deep, hellish growl that rattles the walls like grinding bones.
With a casual sweep of my obsidian clawed fingers across her mouth, I slice every single stitch down the middle with ease. The harsh threads snap one by one through her already damaged lips.
Her eyes squeeze shut in fresh agony, a muffled whimper echoing between us as blood trickles from the reopened wounds.
The moment the last thread falls apart, she peels her cracked lips open, her jaw widening with a rough rasp.
I linger for one final moment, drinking in the sight of her wrecked and wheezing beneath me.
Then I pull away quickly, black smoke exploding around me as I shoot upward, vanishing through the ceiling like a demon returning to the dark.
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With shadows sweeping across the dirt like living oil, I weave between the dead trees, leaving the isolated mansion far behind. Staring down from above, I spot them—dozens of little black figures shuffling toward where she stays.
A deep, furious growl detonates from my chest as I accelerate, smashing straight through ruined buildings in a blur of black smoke and violence, wood and concrete exploding around me as I hurtle toward the center of town.
I know they can’t harm her physically… but they’re still going to petrify her and feed on the leftovers of her terror.
Yet by the time I return, I’ll steal every last drop for myself anyway.
I slam down into the middle of the desolate street, my shadows erupting outward, smothering the cracked concrete in a thick, suffocating smog. I scan the area through my pitch-black eyes, listening for any sound of movement.
When all I hear is silence, I glide low to the ground, slithering over the earth like a serpent, kicking up clouds of filth in my wake. As I reach the heart of the square, I rise to my full height and begin striding forward.
Then I stop and my gaze locks onto the white, withered tree standing crooked in the center. Weeds choke the cracked ground around its base, and as my gaze drifts upward, I spot four bodies hanging limply from its gnarled branches, a noose tight around each of their necks.
A blonde, a brunette, and two bald women, their faces swollen and purple, skin pale as bleached bone, swaying gently in the stale air.
My jaw clenches hard because now I understand why they’re all crawling toward my little light. She’s the only breathing human on Ninth Isle, and these greedy fucking vultures can’t wait.
They’d rather devour the quick burst of death than savor the rich, sweetness of prolonged terror and soul-shattering fear.
Typical.