Page 25 of The Price Of Possession

Her pouty lips part. Her eyes beg to be fucked. That scowl does a shit job of hiding her true desires.

I free my cock. Pre-cum already pools at the tip. I'm throbbing and horny as hell. It pisses me off that my body reacts to her this way. No one else has been able to measure up.

“You bit me. Now, you need to be punished. You want my blood so bad, ya?” I stick my hand in my pocket. My hand runs along my lighter. The desire to burn her is almost too much to bear.

Soon.

I fumble around for a broken shard of glass instead. Another tool of the trade when you enjoy pain. Another way to control situations. That's why torture was the method of choice up until the 1900s, before it was deemed inhumane. I say effective.

I sweep the sharp, jagged edge along my palm. I hiss, letting my head draw back in self-gratification. Red pools to the surface of my skin instantly. My hand flexes a few times to help it flow through my veins. I let it drip onto my weeping cock. A thick bead of pre-cum settles on the tip. Little red dots paint my girthy shaft. Clara looks upon me in sharded dread . . . and something else I can't quite make out. She knows how deep my depravity runs . . . or maybe she doesn't. I smirk at that.

“Lick me clean.”

She stares for a moment in disbelief, blinking. The gears turn in her head. The beast always wins, sweetheart.

“Awww, too stunned to speak?” I tilt my head mocking her, still letting the blood flow freely from my palm. It drips to the stone floor below. My cock is painfully hard. My patience isn't finite. If she doesn't willingly take me in her mouth, I'll take her by force. It makes no difference to me. But she takes me by surprise and scoots forward hesitantly. On the outside, she's cool and collected. Under the surface she's waging war within herself, figuring out her purpose.

Her purpose is whatever the hell I say it is. She's my keystone, preventing total collapse of my sanity for the moment. My cock twitches in anticipation. Her lips part slowly, her blue eyes linger on my dick. Goddamn. Such a seductive siren. I trace my finger over her cracked, dry lips. I raise my arm. Blood beads along my palm. I smear it across her mouth and cheeks painting her deep red velvet. A stark contrast against her blonde mane. She looks like a riven queen.

She opens wide. Her tongue darts out to lap up the bead of cum pooled on the tip of my cock.

I growl. She bobs her head up and down, taking me whole without protest. “Oh, fuckkkkk,” I hiss out. My hands instantly thread through my curls, coating them in blood. I tug on the ends as if that'll satisfy the need coursing through me. My legs threaten to buckle. It takes every ounce of self-control not to throat fuck her violently. Shit, my entire being begs me to bend her over onto the cold stone and ravage her like the beast I am. I feel like I'm losing touch with myself.

This bitch has such a hold on me. I gotta cut that shit off immediately. I look down into her eyes. An endless void, but that just makes shit worse. That dirty mouth of hers is coated in my blood. I just wanna watch her drown in it. Her glassy-eyed stare mirrors my own. Fuck this feeling, vulnerability. Nah, not doing that . . .

She's trying to mask her inner turmoil. I want it all. To watch her fall. I grasp her chin and fight the urge to not come down her throat. “Let me see your fucked up secrets. Fall for me. Break.”

Tears instantly mist her eyes, and it proves too much. Misty dew leaves a trail down her dirt-stained cheeks all the way to her crimson mouth. I see the moment it registers. How fucked up I am, and how much she secretly enjoys being used by me. She craves this just as badly as I do.

Without warning, I empty down her throat; her bloodshot eyes turn to saucers. She tries to pull back, but I don't allow it. I pinch her chin again harder, smearing the sanguine fluid, not allowing her to disengage. “Nah, swallow it. Every last drop,” I snarl. She sputters. Gulp after gulp she takes my gift. She should be thanking me. All these bitches want my cock but all he wants is her. I grind my molars as the euphoria fades. Frustration replaces lust. The anger. The volatility turns explosive and I'm too weak to leave her alone.

“GODDAMNIT!” I slam my fist against the stone behind her, making my knuckles bleed. Good, it can match my other hand. She twitches, rearing back. My cock falls from her lips.

“Why?” she asks, wiping the last of my cum and blood from her mouth. “You’re a fucking idiot. You never think before you do anything!” she shouts at me. I blink slowly, holding eye contact. It only makes shit worse.

“Bitch,” I say under my breath. I tuck my cock away, not even bothering to zip my jeans and storm out.

The padlock clicking echoes through the room, sealing my fate once again. I sit against the cold stone in disbelief. He really is a cruel asshole. He thinks so highly of himself. Putting himself on a pedestal like he’s God. And yet . . . he wages a war with himself. He tries desperately to hide his vulnerabilities, but he wears them like a badge unknowingly.

“Asshole!” I shout, hoping he's still within ear shot. I know good and well he isn’t. He was a completely different person when he was in the throes of pleasure. It's as if he sees me. All my fucked up issues come bubbling to the surface looking for purpose. The moment his desire faded he turned thunderous. Looking at me with such disdain, like something he wants to eradicate. As if I'm the scum of the earth. Maybe I am. Something about me gets under his skin. I want to exploit it but also delve deeper into why. He's a hair’s breadth away from spiraling.

I'm angry. More so at myself. I thought I could wrap him around my finger, but the moment he gives direction I melt into a little Clara puddle. I deserve the abuse. I must be more broken than I ever imagined. Letting him get under my skin like a snake coiling along my insides.

Great job, Clara.

I get to my feet, stumbling like a zombie. Cum, blood, and saliva still coat my lips. I wipe it on my forearm and formulate another means of escape. I can't let myself get sucked into his madness. I scan over the room again. Darkness creeps forward. The sun settles on the horizon. I squint. He forgot to latch the door in his rage, leaving the padlock unfastened. My eyes halt over the cracked stonework Kieran decided to take his rage out on. My fingers dig into the loosely fitted stone, inspecting it. Pieces crumble to the floor overtop my bare feet.

My eyes light up. A plan formulates. Escape is imminent. I use my nails and redouble my efforts to probe at the ruined masonry work. My nails chip and bust but all I taste is freedom. The more I tunnel into the wall, I inch that much closer to releasing my confines. I grip my chain, tugging it hard. It loosens from the wall a fraction but still holds me captive. I go back to extracting. This time I use my whole weight behind it and pull. It snaps free, loosening around my wrist, offering much needed reprieve. I topple backward onto the hard floor. I roll my wrist a few times to regain feeling.

I'm free. Or . . . am I?

My head snaps to the door frantically. He left it unlocked. Part of me considers that this could be another trick to ensnare me back in his cage. Kieran is cruel and full of guile. He would offer me the illusion of freedom just to rip it away, all for his own gratification. He thrives off control, power, and thrills. I'm immured in his unhinged world.

Slow and steady, I put one foot in front of another. Screw shoes; escape is the only thing rolling through my mind. The cold numbs my toes. I take off without a second thought. The sharp wind cuts through my loose clothes. The hard, wet ground turns my feet an angry shade of red. My heart pounds against my ribs. My matted blonde hair tickles the nape of my neck. Gravestones, trees, and floral arrangements line the vicinity; I weave through them, praying I don't trip in the pale moonlight.

I push until my lungs threaten to burst from my chest. I stumble across the hard ground. That is, until I run smack into a hard body. He steps out at the last second behind a tree. It knocks the wind out of me, causing me to topple on my ass.

“You thought I would let you go?” His voice pitches higher with a mix of mania and amusement.