Chapter IX
Cassandra
His lips crash against mine, and I meet his passion with my own savage ferocity. Izcacus groans into my mouth as I bite and suck at his lip. With frenzied movements I grip his clothing. It feels like time is running out, but I need more. I need—
“Take what you need,” Izcacus rumbles, and I realize that I’ve spoken out loud as desperation unravels me with alarming speed.
My cheeks burn in embarrassment at what I want, and I’m afraid to voice it, to be confident enough to take it.
“Tell me, my angel,” he urges more softly.
Throwing myself into Izcacus, I bury my face against his chest, closing my eyes to exist only in each sickening thud of my heart as it lurches up into my throat.
“I––I want you to make me feel good again. I want you.”
His strong arms encircle my body, and I sigh, beginning to relax. I feel safe within his embrace. Izcacus pulls away, tilting my chin up with one talon.
“You are always in control. If you do not like something or want me to stop, tell me, and I will. Promise me.”
“I promise,” I whisper.
“Good girl.”
Izcacus sinks to his knees before me. My breathing hitches as he pulls up the tattered gown, bundling it above my waist. I’m not wearing any underwear––there weren’t any that I could find in my room.
His red eyes darken as if this pleases him, and he bends one of my legs so that it’s hooked over his shoulders.
His tongue traces my inner thigh, cleaning up the blood that has once again spilled from my pussy.
My eyes flutter shut, pulse quickening with desire as my hands grasp his head for balance. Izcacus is all that I can feel; in the darkness, there is no one else. It’s just him, and me. He’s heaven wrapped in sin.
Behind closed eyes, it’s almost easy to enjoy the feeling of his lips against my clit, his tongue probing my entrance. It’s easier still to forget the feeling of vulnerability when I’m spread open for him, clothed only in shadows, a feast before a god.
Izcacus slowly makes his way up to my center.
Each of his movements is intensified by my lack of sight.
I’m willingly relinquishing myself into his care, trusting that Izcacus will take me with gentle hands, and that if he does break me, he will stitch me back together.
It is all I can to feel, to experience each wave of crashing pleasure that he wreaks upon my body.
Izcacus’s breath caresses my sensitive skin, sending tingling pulses in waves.
With each kiss of my thigh, Izcacus alternates between nipping my flesh and swirling his tongue against the skin, drawing breathless squeals from me.
I whimper with need when he reaches my core.
His lips press against my sensitive bud before he sucks and licks.
My legs tremble, fingers scrabbling for purchase as Izcacus feasts upon me.
He moves lower, and I moan as his fingers pry me open, wider, so that he can fuck his tongue into me.
Our moans join in harmony as he guzzles my oozing menstrual blood, feeding like a wild man starved.
When I feel Izcacus move away, my leg gently returned to the ground, I open my eyes, gasping at how my blood runs down his chin and is smeared across his face. With blown, void-like pupils, Izcacus looks utterly demonic. A monster. My monster.
“Turn around and grip the gravestone,” he growls.
My body shivers in response, and I do as he says, my fingers gripping the time-pocked marker. I allow Izcacus to gently maneuver me so that I’m slightly bent at the waist, but as soon as he bears my backside to the graveyard, I freeze.
“Remember your promise,” Izcacus hisses fiercely. “You will tell me if you need me to stop.”
My head nods, and I stay where I am. Even though fear shakes my body, I want this. I want to be pushed to my limits, to experience this pleasure, to know what it’s like to be touched and worshipped. I want it all.
I want it all—with him.
Izcacus’s hand rubs each buttock, and at his icy touch, I shiver, my breathing heavy from the apprehension of what he might do to my most vulnerable parts. I gasp when he spreads me open, the cold night air caressing my puckered hole.
Dear God.
This feels so wrong, so…naughty, being hunched over a grave, my breasts pressed against the headstone and my bottom exposed. We are desecrating this grave. My teeth sink into my bottom lip to stop myself from whimpering because, as wrong as it feels, it feels so right.
My eyes widen and I jolt when wetness touches my hole, fingers clenching around the stone. It feels so strange and different from everything Izcacus has done to me so far.
“Breathe. Take deep breaths,” he rumbles. The air from his words tickles my rim as he speaks. “Trust that I will take care of you, my unholy angel.”
My chest shakes as I do as he commands and I take multiple loud, deep breaths. I let my eyes fall shut once again.
The sound of him spitting interrupts the quiet, and each time his saliva meets my hole, I gasp, the wetness shocking me, making my toes curl into the soil. Izcacus smears his fingers through it, rimming me. I focus on breathing as he continues to spit and smear, tease and titillate.
Izcacus’s other hand wraps around my hip, drifting down to play with my clit, rubbing circles in time with his movements at my back hole.
The familiar sensation draws a moan from me, and I feel myself relax, the array of sensation sending me floating.
Something slithery slips inside my ass and I squeal.
In response Izcacus picks up the speed with which he rubs my clit, leaving me gasping and writhing.
He’s eating my ass. Over a grave. It’s so forbidden that it turns me on.
My head quivers, and I can feel myself transcending ephemeral binds to float amongst the stars as my eyes roll back.
“More,” I beg as I wriggle my ass. “Please.” It comes out quieter.
“Hmmm. I fear my talon will hurt you, my sweetness.”
“Please, Izcacus. Please.”
“Well, since you beg so prettily.”
He taps my leg, prompting me to look behind. I gasp when I see he’s holding up a small bone with a devilish grin.
“A bone?” I whisper before my eyes dart around, fearful of who may bear witness to what must surely be a crime against the consecrated land.
“You do not have to, if you do not wish.”
I turn back around, resting over the tombstone, and close my eyes. “Please.”
“Please, what?”
Oh God. He’s going to make me say it. I mewl in frustration, squirming under his touch.
“Please stick a…a bone in my ass.”
Izcacus hums his approval.
He uses my period blood as a lubricant, pressing the bone into my puckered hole.
“I want you to touch yourself while I do this. Play with yourself, moan for me, my naughty angel.”
My hand slides down to my pussy, and I keep my eyes closed as I rub, circling my blood-moistened clit. All I can focus on is the pressure as Izcacus wriggles the bone, stretching me little by little. I feel a pop and whimper, before my fingers on my clit melt it into a mind-numbing pleasure.
It’s a bit uncomfortable, this feeling of being stretched. Still, I can’t stop thinking about how absurd it is to be fucked with a bone, the taboo of it making me want to delve deeper into the madness. My eyelids flutter at the thought.
“Look at you,” Izcacus purrs, “taking this bone so well. Does it feel okay?”
I offer him a wordless acknowledgement while breathing through the pleasurable pain.
“I am going to start moving now, my dirty little angel.”
His words make me moan, and I don’t stop as he thrusts the bone in and out of my ass. I circle my clit with one hand while rubbing up and down my pussy, the combination deliciously sinful.
“Oh God,” I groan, my fingers working faster as I chase my climax.
“Good girl. I want you to come all over your fingers. Can you do that for me?”
I cry out in response. Izcacus continues to fuck the bone into my ass, working in tandem with my own frantic movements. I scream in ecstasy when the initial tremors of my orgasm bloom into overwhelming shockwaves, my legs shaking as bloody cum coats my fingers.
Exhaustion overtakes my body, and I slump over the headstone, my eyes feeling heavy.
Izcacus bundles me into his arms, lifting me like a bride, and I nestle myself comfortably against his chest.
“You did so well. You are perfect. Heaven sent you to me,” I hear him coo.
My chest grows warm at the praise, satisfaction heating my skin.
“Izcacus,” I mumble in the darkness, a yawn interrupting my words. “When can I touch you?”
The sounds of his steps across the ground lull me further, as does the gently swaying motion of being carried through the graveyard.
I rest there, in the ethereal place between the realms of sleep and consciousness, for what feels like an eternity.
I realize, in the last waking moment before sleep overcomes me, that Izcacus hasn’t answered.