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The ropes jerked. She flinched as the leather made contact with her flesh. He saw her stiffen, bracing herself for the next sting of the whip. He cracked the whip again, searing her skin, branding her with his anger. And still, it was not enough. The lash came down again and again and again, until she began to cry and scream. Until she was silent.
Her body was shaking with violent tremors when he finally stopped the flogging. The once-pristine skin of her buttocks glowed a fiery red, and raised, angry-looking welts oozed with blood, trickling down her backside. He threw the whip to the floor and stood behind her. She hung her head so he couldn’t see her face, or the salty tears running off her cheeks onto the mattress.
For a moment he forgot her duplicity, and once more she became the woman who held his dark desires in her heart. Almost lovingly, he traced the welts on her skin, smearing the blood. He brought his fingers to his lips and tasted her. Instantly, his cock surged, and he knelt behind her, licking the rivulets of blood that trailed down her flesh.
One finger became two, and then three. He slid his fingers in, and then out, of her body. And with every thrust, the juices dripped from inside of her, coating her thighs, running down her legs. She arched her back to meet every thrust.
He released her wrists and flipped her over onto the bed. Kneeling between her thighs, he crushed his mouth against her, relishing her delicious cunt. He licked and laved voraciously, drank what flowed into his mouth freely, like a man who had found a quenching oasis in an arid desert. His tongue flicked over her swollen clit, teasing it, taunting it, until she cried out his name with her orgasm.
No.
His eyes narrowed, the brows coming together, as he saw, really saw, the woman who lay before him. This woman who had deceived him. Tricked him. Betrayed him. She’d duped him into thinking she was the perfect woman.
She wasn’t. Not at all.
Eyes that he once found so beautiful closed as he held his engorged cock in his hand. He stroked his shaft, squeezing the head, and sheathed himself. His balls felt as if they could burst. He was close now. Close to the edge. He wouldn’t waste it.
Reaching into his bag, he felt for the blade and found it, carefully placing it behind him. He leaned over her then and brushed away the long dark hair that clung to her wet, mascara-stained cheeks. Tracing the curve of her brows with his thumbs, he placed a featherlight kiss on each of her closed eyelids.
And then he plunged himself inside her, deep inside, so deep he could feel his cock against her womb. He thrust fierce and fast. Furious. He wanted to fuck her hard. So hard. So deep. He wanted to split her open and see her entrails spill upon the bed.
He wanted.
He wanted.
Fury burned his eyes. Hatred. Her eyes opened and she looked up at him. He was hurting her. She reached for his face with her hands. Grabbed at his hair. She tried to make him stop, but he didn’t. He wouldn’t. Blood flowed from her cunt, glazing his cock as it disappeared and then reappeared from inside her body.
“Why are you doing this to me?” She spoke on a muted sob.
He ceased his movement, holding himself still inside of her. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” He smiled then, really smiled, as if nothing else could make him happier. “Welcome to hell, you fucking cunt!”
And then he threw back his head and laughed from deep within his throat.
“What do you want?” The words were spoken so softly he almost didn’t hear them.
Then very slowly he lifted his head and looked directly into her amber eyes. He saw the terror there and it pleased him.
The words that came from his lips were slowly spoken, low and deep.
“I want your blood all over me.”
She didn’t see the blade. He plunged it into her belly, as his blood-covered cock plunged back inside her body.
Euphoria filled him.
He looked down upon the traitorous bitch as he thrust his dick into her. Hot blood spewed forth from the gaping slit in her belly, the dark-red puddle in the hollow of her abdomen spilled over onto the white linen sheets. He cupped his hands and filled it with her blood. His hands rose to his mouth. He drank her in, filling his mouth with the sweet nectar, loving the thickness of it. Loving the taste of it.
But it was a thirst he would never completely quench. No matter how much he drank, he would always want more. It would never be enough, he thought, as the hot rush of his orgasm filled her lifeless body.
If only she hadn’t betrayed him.
He boarded the train that would take him back. He took his seat and opened a book to read. In spite of it all, he felt sated and satisfied. Relaxed. And as the train pulled out of the station, he closed his eyes and saw her as he’d seen her last.
Not one drop of blood dirtied her chalk-white skin, for he’d bathed her body and then hacked through her torso, severing her in half. She was an aesthetic vision, artfully arranged on the big white bed. He’d brushed her long black hair and gently placed a pillow beneath her head, before giving her a final kiss.
And when his warm lips touched hers that were cold, he smiled.
Goodbye, Salena.
