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EARLY MORNING
By Toran
The slow purple that was creeping across the eastern sky was making the dripping candles obsolete, at least the candles that weren’t being used to cover her skin with a waxy sheet of pain. Dimly I was aware that we’d worn the night away, testing and pulling her pain threshold. I also was aware that this wasn’t enough, not yet. The beast that was deep inside had awakened but was content to watch me work my mild torture.
The thick leather gag was buried deep between parched and chapped lips that hadn’t come together in almost 12 hours. I’m sure her jaw hurt but I didn’t really give a fuck. I’m sure there was more flesh on her body that was hurting just as much. As I ripped the latest coat of wax off her now puffy bright red belly skin – the fourth or fifth coat, I couldn’t remember exactly and did it matter – I felt the beast give a heave ho and settle itself more firmly into my mind.
He was like that. Existing wherever the fuck things that you kept down, and hidden lived. Not exactly shame or fear, you kept the keys to that cell shut and locked all the time. But sometimes, sometimes when you knew the pressure was building, you opened the door just a crack, knowing full fucking well that it was only a matter of time.
I had been getting worked up, right from the start when I’d pushed Jenny roughly down on the floor and roped her, straddling her back like a cowboy tying a bull. Her head snapped back from the gag, but her screams would have woke up Dawn or Teri and that wouldn’t do – they had their place, but now wasn’t the time. The beast rarely came out for them, having satiated its appetite on their flesh so long ago, it had simply moved on. Jenny was fresh. Jenny was stronger. Jenny was still unbroken. And Jenny hadn’t met the beast yet.
She rolled her head from side to side, brown hair matted with sweat. Her lips, taut around the leather sack, looked almost like she’d gotten into the chocolate cookie jar and hadn’t been too ladylike about it. But I knew it was dried blood, the leftovers from a heavy hand and wicked heart. Her eyes fluttered open, maybe wondering what was next and she froze, catching the look on my face. I knew I could look … different, when he was upon me. Dawn had said once that it was like my eyes grew darker, the pupils dilating. And there was the grin, an animal snarl that never went away.
But I didn’t feel it. I was gone. So long fucking gone. Oh, I saw. I saw my hands reach for the nail gloves. But they weren’t gloves, really. My hands had turned into something dark and evil. Claws, with long razor sharp talons at the tips. Was I fucking crazy? Sure. Aren’t we all, deep down inside?
Everything was now very important – my senses exploded and imploded, both reaching out and drawing in. The smell of the candles, the light waxing in through the stained glass windows, the four seamless grooves of blood I cut into her belly. And most of all, her moan, her whine. Eyes closed, bound tight, little Jenny forced to hurt for me. Her blood welled up into little droplets that dotted the angry lines across her flesh. I added another line with my other hand, digging deep, almost beyond her skin and into the soft flesh of her belly.
She inhaled loudly, through her nose, the whine stopping, stunned in her throat. Our eyes met. My hand reached up and sunk four nails into the flesh next to her breast. My other hand, the left, found the inner flesh of her thigh and began dragging her flesh up to her pussy. Still our eyes were locked and for the first time that night, she knew what real pain was. My pain. The beast’s pain. All for her.
Dragging my right hand across the top of her breast, I left her nipple unscathed. There would be more time for that little orb of nerves. I bent in and licked the gashes, tasting her blood on my lips, lapping it into my mouth. That was bad. They shoot a hound dog if he raids the chicken coop and gets the taste of blood. There was no one to shoot me. No one to stop me.
Absently trailing my nailed fingers down her side and leaving a bloody trail along her torso, I slid down between her outspread and bound legs. Her knees strained to close, to cover herself, protect herself. But she’d had her chance when I tied her. She could have fought more, maybe. Now she was mine, to do what I pleased. And I pleased a lot.
Running my forefinger from each hand along the puffed and engorged pussy lips, I could smell her sex, her arousal. First her blood, now her lust. I closed my eyes and drove my nose deep into her wet folds, inhaling her scent, making it mine, too. She was soft and warm and vulnerable. My blood soaked tongue darted out and licked at the clit bud. But that was for me, not her. What I did next was also for me.
Leading with two razor tipped fingers, I slid inside her, careful not to slice her open. Her warmth enveloped my hand through the thin leather of the glove. I pushed in, my third then fourth fingers sliding inside her, until my fist was buried. She’d tried to relax and let me in but it didn’t matter – my fingers worked their way inside, expanding her vaginal muscles and taking little slices of flesh where needed.
The tips of my fingers were nestled deep inside and I felt her body all around my hand, warm, pulsing, tight flesh. I twitched the razor tips and she quivered. She was feeling it – maybe not pain, but something. Curling my fingers a little, I rotated my wrist and imagined the grooves my nails were leaving. Jenny was silent, frozen. Slowly, not wanting to rip her insides out, I pulled out and showed her the blood coated glove.
I imagined the snarl was there on my face. Had to be, I had evil in my heart. I tore the gloves off and made a fist. Before she could anticipate anything, I slammed my fist into her. She was still stretched nicely, but it was a tight fit anyway. I drove that fucker deep, for a moment wanting to pound in as far as my shoulder. She arched her hips and I rode her for a second before ripping my fist out of her completely. There was blood coating my arm, my fingers, my hand, and the wave of lust took me then. I slammed back into her, my hand pistoning in and out now, oblivious of her thrashing and screaming.
It went on like that for some time. I think she may have worked herself into an orgasm, but I couldn’t have cared less. The important thing was I was her world now, punching into her most vulnerable place with a fury and need to inflict pain. I watched her eyes, drinking their pain hazed glances, her lips as they curled back from the leather gag, her head and hair as it thrashed from side to side. All the while I was pounding her flesh, pounding her.
Somewhere, I remember ripping the gag off and ramming my dick into her mouth, wanting to feel her tight warmth there. I knew she was stretched so much now that it wouldn’t be a good fuck so I contented myself with grabbing her by the ears and alternately slamming her head into the bed and impaling her mouth on my dick. I came all over her face, I think. Or maybe her tits. I don’t know – I was wiped.
I regained some bit of composure later. She was untied – must have been me because she wasn’t getting loose on her own - and nestled next to me, sleeping, a fingerprint of blood on her cheek. The sun was up I was dead tired. She stirred and looked up into my eyes. “You fucker,” she whispered and buried her head on my chest, already lost in sleep.
I closed my eyes, not much later, the beast out and the taste of blood in his mouth. Tonight would be worse. And this would be the last time little Jenny slept in my bed – there was a nice cage downstairs in a corner of the basement, next to Dawn and Teri, that had her name on it. I drifted off, a smile on my face.
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