Chapter 3 #2
She held my arm outstretched, pinning it down, then, almost tenderly, brushed the damp curls away from her face.
“Shh,” she whispered, lips forming a soft, coaxing pout. I felt like a frightened child being soothed by a fairy tale witch who was checking the fat on their victim. “You bleed so pretty.”
Her mouth met my skin in a twisted kiss, followed by the tug of her tongue as she latched onto the wound. She moved slowly, dragging up and down, savoring me, occasionally lifting her eyes to meet mine. The suction deepened into a visceral confluence.
And for one impossible moment, it almost. . . felt good.
The shock paralyzed me. My body went rigid, my fight folding into a hollow stillness as I stared at the crown of her head bowed over my arm.
The man stirred, then rose, his body filling the room as he moved toward us.
His eyes locked on mine, confident in the way a predator knows it already owns its prey.
Every muscle coiled and slid with the slow, unstoppable flow of water over stone.
His penis, still slick with her juices, hung heavy as it softened.
Up close, he was impossibly big in every way—towering, sinewed, built like a creature assembled from pieces never meant to fit together.
If he were a character in my book, I’d say he was carved by hands that didn’t fully understand anatomy, merely trying to make him as hulking and formidable as possible.
With the back of his hand, he gave his bloodied lips a perfunctory wipe.
The woman must have felt him approach—not heard, for he moved silently—as she lifted her bloody, grinning face from my arm.
He took the knife from her and knelt at my feet.
His hands clamped around my legs with inhuman strength, pinning me like paper.
My old Metallica shirt, which I slept in, rode up past my hips, leaving me bare to the cold air.
I kicked, desperate, but he slid between my legs and held me down.
My body stretched in both directions, helpless, the woman pressing from above, the man anchoring me below.
I screamed, thinking I knew what was coming, bracing for it—
The blade flashed—not like the woman’s slow, lingering cut, but a swift, brutal strike. It tore across the tender inside of my thigh, pain spearing inward as if it struck bone. I yowled and thrashed anew.
The woman watched, aroused, eyes wide and wild, as claret dripped from her chin.
The man leaned in, and his mouth sealed over the cut on my inner thigh. He latched on and began to suck, drinking like his existence depended on it. I felt like spoiled fruit beneath his hands as he squeezed the flesh around my wound.
This isn’t happening, I thought.
This wasn’t real.
They couldn’t be real.
They were drinking me, biting my body like wolves at a kill.
Was this what they had done to Sylvie?
The woman took the knife back and began slicing through my T-shirt, deliberately, savoring each motion. The fabric split open, exposing my bare stomach, then my breasts. She set the blade against my nipple. I jerked aside in panic.
“Shh,” she whispered again. “You don’t want me to cut it off by accident, do you? So beautiful. Delicate.”
My nipple tightened reflexively, betraying me, as she circled it with the knife. Then she closed her lips around my puckered skin, sucking slowly, tracing the peak with her tongue, exploring, teasing, making me shiver against her touch.
I held my breath, almost forgetting the man—until he clamped down harder on my thigh. His teeth sank in deep. Pain flared anew.
Another flash of heat swept across my abdomen. She opened a thin cut on my stomach and leaned down to drink from it. As she fed, the man finally released my thigh, took the knife from her, and prepared for the next cut—on my other thigh.
They drank from me greedily, swallowing with harsh, slavering gulps that made bile crawl up the back of my throat. They held me so tightly I could barely move, their strength crushing, inhuman. I couldn’t lash out. But I could scream, and I did, until my voice cracked.
Weakness spread through me, my body failing as they drank their fill. My head jerked from side to side, powerless to resist. New cuts bloomed across my skin, some shallow, others deep enough to nick a vein.
I lost all sense of how long they had been torturing me. Minutes, maybe hours—I couldn’t tell. I was stripped bare, a canvas of cuts, mired with cruor.
They had licked me all over, their mouths roaming, biting, tearing into me, never deep enough to end it, just cruel rips meant to keep me alive. The man withdrew. His hunger spent, he drifted into the shadows, leaving me limp and trembling, alone with her.
She crouched over me, her face shiny with sweat and sooty stains.
“Now it’s just you and me, honey,” she said, and I knew she was about to take her revenge for the cut I had left on her throat.
The woman reached for her scarf. She untied the knot and began to unwrap the silk.
The gape was a mortal architecture, a space nobody should survive. Yet she hovered, alive, her torso swaying over me with the fluid grace of a snake dancing to a flute.
“Look what you did,” she whispered. Her voice was a damp rasp, the sound of air escaping through the wrong hole. She brushed her fingers over the edge of the wound, unsettling steam.
Then she plunged them into it.
She seized my jaw with her free hand, though I had no fight left in me.
She pried my mouth open, the joints of my skull popping under the pressure.
Blood-coated fingers pressed inside. I heaved, a violent gag reflex struggling against the intrusion, but she did not release.
Her warmth traced my interior, the copper taste making my throat revolt. I was suffocating.
Then she eased back. For a while, she simply sat, watching me, her gaze distant, lost in a daydream.
With a subtle tremor, the knife returned, tracing my leg until it settled between my thighs. Her voice was a soft, almost tender murmur, barely audible.
“If I cut you here,” she said, teasing the hood of my clit with the cold steel, “will you still shudder for me when I drink?”
My head lolled weakly to the side. How much longer could I endure this? How much longer could I be carved, licked, bitten, drained, and still live?
The woman leaned closer, her lips curved into a knowing smile.
“Let’s try,” she whispered, pressing harder. “Open up.”
A flash of obliterating pain tore through me, the existing wounds reopening as she dug her nails into my skin, and then everything gave way.
The world tilted and dissolved, welcoming me into the blissful dark.
At last.