Blood Lust

Drawing showing a knife and smeared out blood.

Content warning: Non-consensual sex, blood, crime, dark story — not for the faint-hearted!

He slowly circled her, watching her struggle against the ropes.

It was a futile fight, really.

During his life of several centuries, he had perfected his rope techniques, giving them just enough room to move; to keep the flame of hope burning.

Reinhardt licked his lips.

Did she even realize how special she was? Chosen by him, singled out to feed his everlasting hunger?

His eyes wandered over her naked form. Shoulder muscles played beneath her skin as she fought against the ties. The curve of her back made his mouth water, and the sight of her bottom stirred his insides.

He wanted her, but not too soon.

On the other side, he avoided looking at her face. It was a pity he had to gag and blindfold all of them. He detested seeing the fear in their eyes. Preferred them to whimper, not scream.

This one was whimpering, all right, but her tits interested him more. Those erect nipples were evidence of lust, not fear.

She wanted this as much as he did her.

Reinhardt’s eyes rested on her cunt, and for a moment he considered running his finger through her slightly parted lips, sure he would find her wet and wanton.

Not yet, though.

He first needed to still his hunger.

Behind the gag, she screamed when he ran the blade from her shoulder down to the small of her back. First on the right, then the left. Red lines appeared, and droplets of blood formed in places where the blunt instrument had broken the skin.

Reinhardt ran his finger along the lines, spreading the blood, which he then sucked from his finger.

He breathed in deep, held his breath for seconds before slowly letting the air escape from his lungs.

More! He wanted more!

Walking around her, he painted her body in red lines, smearing blood from tiny cuts to her milk-white skin. He left only her breasts and pussy untouched.

Those were for later.

The metallic taste in his mouth drove him wild. Using his finger didn’t bring him the full satisfaction he craved. He sucked the blood from tiny holes in her skin, holding her fighting body in a tight grip, thankful for the gag muffling her screams.

While sucking blood from her shoulder, he grabbed her breasts and squeezed. Gently at first, but tightening gradually. She whimpered, moaned, screamed. He twisted her nipples, trapping her upper body between his arms.

Suddenly, he stepped back, surprising her enough to lose her balance and hang on the ropes. Before she recovered, he stood in front of her, admiring the dark red handprints on her breasts. He traced the lines of the prints with the blade, breaking through the skin and tasting her blood once more.

Red lines ran from her breasts, over her belly, to her core. His mouth followed the blade — licking, sucking, devouring every drop. His tongue ran up and down her lips, savoring the metallic taste of her blood.

There was more.

As he had expected, lust leaked from her body, and mixed with the blood on his tongue. He licked up and down her slit, dipping his tongue inside, then stopped at the firm bundle of nerves, sucking it firmly between his lips.

She squirmed.

She screamed.

She struggled.

He grabbed her bottom and dug his fingers into the flesh, spreading her cheeks and clawing his fingers towards her darker opening. His mouth locked on her clitoris, sucking feverishly and hard, until he tasted fresh blood. He didn’t stop, and despite her body twisting in his hold, he sucked and fingered.

Fingered and sucked.

His own climax leaked from his body when her body surrendered to its needs, lust running down her thighs, mixing with blood.

He stepped back to look at his creation one last time. Blood and dirt, light skin and red marks.

He left her there, hanging in the ropes; his hunger stilled — for now.

© Rebel’s Notes
Image from Pixabay

Wicked Wednesday

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