Page 28 of Tormented By Regret

His tongue ran along my collarbone causing me to shudder. "Did you like that?"

Oddly I did. "Mmmm, yes."

"You like being daddy's good little slut." He jerked his hips into me, and I yelped, the pleasure running through the entire length of my body.

"Mmm, yes make me your slut."

He ran a hand down the front of my body, cupping my breasts until his hand wrapped around my throat as he fucked me.

"I'm gonna be your new daddy. And I'm gonna make my good girl do very naughty things. Like spanking her cunt when she gets loud, and placing clamps on these tight little nipples until she cries my name."

He pulled on my tits and that slight sting made me pulse around his dick.

"Oh yes, I'm going to do such bad things to you, Whisper. You're stuck with me now, my pretty little lunatic."

He cradled my face as he fucked me and as my body tightened and the pleasure coursed through me, I secretly couldn't wait to find out more about this man and the dark and sinister things he wanted to do to me.

HARGRAVE

Iset my empty beer glass on the counter and turned to the bartender, in this nearly empty, run-down bar, asking him to crank up the volume on the television. The establishment sat right on the lake, a perfect setting facing the location where the gruesome murder occurred. The dim lighting cast long shadows over the worn wooden floorboards, concealing the few patrons that were scattered within its tired walls. The air hung heavy with the scent of stale beer, piss, and cigarette smoke, while the jukebox in the corner crackled with static, playing nostalgic rock tunes.

Outside, the night was bleak and chilly, with a faint mist swirling around the dim streetlights. In the distance, the murky waters of the lake reflected the pale glow of the moon, adding an eerie touch to the scene that was unfolding on the television set. The news was on, and my masterpiece was lying beneath a black tarp by the lake’s edge, where I'd left her only a few hours ago. The news anchor's voice crackled over the television, describing the scene by the lake in a somber tone.

"Good evening. We bring you breaking news tonight as authorities have discovered a grisly scene by the lake just outside of town. Police are currently investigating what appears to be a homicide. Details are scarce at the moment, but sources indicate that the body belongs to that of a thirty-five-year-old Caucasian female. We are told her name is Lucy Whitfield. A native from the Los Angeles area and a nurse at the nearby hospital. She leaves behind her two children and grieving husband. Our thoughts are with the victim's family as law enforcement works diligently to unravel the mystery surrounding this tragic event. Stay tuned for updates as this story develops.”

I focus as the camera pans to reveal a secluded spot by the water, where police tape sections off the area. Flashing blue and red lights paint an unsettling glow across the lake. Investigators comb through the underbrush, their flashlights cutting through the darkness, desperately searching for clues. In the distance, the silhouette of a body lies beneath a black covering, a single reminder of the violence I had just committed.

As the camera zooms in, viewers can catch a glimpse of the lake's murky waters, their surface disturbed by ripples from the gentle breeze. It's a haunting backdrop to the tragic ending, hinting at the secrets hidden beneath the surface. Secrets only myself and Lee Berwick had any knowledge of.

I finished off another pint of beer and wandered into the bathroom. As I went to unzip my pants I noticed the dried blood on the curve of my shoes. As I released the piss, I slid my head back, staring at the fluorescent lights as I recalled the events of the previous hours.

For several restless nights, I had been meticulous in tracking her every move. I took my time each evening, observing and studying the intricacies of her daily routine, piecing together the puzzle of her life one fragment of a piece at a time.

Tonight, the moon hung low in the ink-black sky, making it hard for me to hide from view as I began trailing her through the dimly lit streets. The flickering lamp posts cast haunting shadows on the cement, almost matching in tandem with her hurried footsteps. I watched as she scurried across the street, looking over her shoulder as the darkness amplified that sense of foreboding that now hung heavy in the air.

As she finally reached that solitary car parked at the edge of the deserted lot, I felt a surge of anticipation course through my veins. This was it. The moment I’d been waiting for all these years. I just wanted an opportunity to confront her, to explain all these emotions that had been festering within me for far too long.

Approaching her vehicle with cautious steps, I watched as she fumbled with her keys, the soft click of the lock echoing in the stillness of the night. In the dim glow of the streetlights, her features were illuminated in fleeting glimpses, each one a tantalizing reminder of the woman I once knew.

She looked at me in shock as I spoke her name. I told her I wasn’t there to hurt her, but she barely gave me a chance to speak, to express the hurt and betrayal that had consumed me in her absence. And when she didn't cooperate and apologize like I was expecting her to, things escalated quite quickly.

In a flash of anger, I reached out and seized her by the arm, my grip firm but trembling with a mixture of fear and resolve. She recoiled at my touch, her eyes flashing with a defiant hatred that only stoked my anger. With a swift and decisive motion, I pulled her from the safety of her car, stumbling toward the desolate shores of the nearby lake.

She struggled against me, cursing and fighting me every step of the way. But I was relentless, driven by a desperate need to make myself heard. With each step we took, the distance between us and the safety she knew grew, and her resistance began to wane, and she began to beg.

I stood staring down at the water’s edge, remembering that ripple across the lake. I looked back at her, now pleading with me not to hurt her. And I could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on me like a leaden shroud. With a heavy heart and trembling hands, I delivered a single blow to her temple, the dull thud reverberating through the stillness of the night.

As she crumpled to the ground, I felt a pang of remorse clawing at the edges of my conscience. But in the end, it was too late for regrets. The die had been cast, and her fate was sealed in that moment of darkness.

I never thought I could feel so much pleasure while I relished in her tears as I raped her dirty cunt beneath the moonlight. With every thrust I reminded her how it was her fault we had gotten to this point. I was certain she loved every second of our lovemaking, squealing for me as I fucked my load into her.

But it wasn't until after I was done, and she was just lying there, completely sated, that I suddenly had this urge to end it all.

Crouching over her, I gripped her throat attempting to strangle her. but the bitch turned out to be stronger than I thought. Or maybe she’d gone into fight or flight mode and the adrenaline that coursed through her, kicked into me.

I flushed the toilet and went over to the sink to wash my hands. As I pulled up my sleeves, I noticed the scratch marks she'd left on my arms. As I let the water run over my hands, I closed my eyes remembering the sweet burn her nails left on me as she marked my flesh. Just a sweet reminder of her love, carved into me.

After drying my hands beneath the hot dryer, I straightened my collar and stepped back out into the bar. I cast a fleeting glance towards the television mounted on the far wall and couldn’t help but smile as the familiar image of my face flashed across the screen, accompanied by a barrage of urgent news updates. In that moment, time seemed to slow to a crawl, and I suddenly felt the weight of the people’s gazes, whispers emerging around me.

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