Page 60 of Tainted Serenity

My voice is laced with something akin to a threat, though not directed at her, but rather a warning to the outside world and all those who keep me away from her.

Don’t they know there is nothing anyone can do to stop a predator from getting to its prey? It will only end in tragedy, but no one seems to comprehend that.

“Remove your panties,” I state.

“What?” Her cheeks flush from my command, making them a beautiful shade of red.

“Do I have to repeat myself?” I level her a glare of dominance and affection, and she gets to work.

As she slides down her panties, she lets them fall to the floor beside her, and then she waits for my next instruction. For a moment, all I can do is stand there while looking into her eyes, not even acknowledging that she is naked from her waist below, though my cock notices.

“Tell me about your life before Dankworth and sit down in the chair,” I demand in a soft yet firm tone.

Her look is puzzled, but she doesn’t question me while making her way over to the vintage examination chair standing in the middle of the room. My balls tighten with the need to fuck and make love to her, but I cross my arms while waiting for her reply. It takes several seconds before she answers, her thoughts churning inside her mind as if she fears this.

I stalk toward her, pushing her down so her back meets the reclined backrest of the chair. While she shudders against me, I trail my hand over her foot, to her knee, and then further to the inside of her thigh. Her breath hitches from the motions, but I arch an eyebrow to motion for her to talk.

“You know how I killed my mother,” she gulps as if being ashamed of that fact.

I crouch down and let my breath fall against her fragile skin. While I kiss my way from her outer thighs to her inner thighs, my mouth finds its way to her throbbing clit that’s begging me to lick it.

“Continue,” I demand, and the breath washes over her, making her grab hold of my head.

“Before that, she left me strapped to a fucking hospital bed while delivering the news of how she sold me to this ‘wonderful manor’ that would right me of all my wrongs.”

She practically spits out the words, and I take my time beginning to lick her clit, causing gasps to erupt from her. This is a good distraction for my little depraved doll, who needs the pleasure and pain to survive.

“So I killed her after escaping the hospital. Tracking her down to a hotel and stabbing her,” she says breathlessly. “I had plotted her death since I was seven years old when she killed the only person I cared about—my dad.”

The pain is visible in her eyes, and while I detect a sense of relief regarding her mother’s death in them, there is also an undercurrent of shame. It’s as if she is embarrassed about revealing this, or about killing her mom.

I continue to lick her pussy, the sweet taste of her hitting my tastebuds. She grips the armrest until her knuckles turn white, waves of pleasure rolling over her.

“Never be ashamed for doing what you had to do to survive. Remember that,” I say sternly, waiting for her nod of understanding.

When she gives me that nod, I go back to licking her, slowly easing a finger inside her. She is so fucking wet, she’s almost dripping.

“I was arrested, taken to court, and before they could officially send me to prison, I managed to escape. I’ve always been good at running away,” she whispers, looking at me with pleading eyes.

My index fingers push into her fully, and she moans when I continue to suck and lick on her clit.

“And you escaped, didn’t you? My brave, wicked little doll.”

She gasps out her following response. “Yes, but then the master of the manor she sold me to found me. I don’t know how or why, but he did.”

I insert another finger, continuing to finger-fuck her as I suck on her clit, making her feel all kinds of emotions while I prompt her to keep talking.

“And then I was sent to Grimhill Manor. More likepurgatorymanor, where they collect children as if they were toys, making them into real-life dolls to play horrible games.”

Dread fills my very being as I continue to thrust my fingers inside her, and at this point, her grip on the armrest has gotten even stronger, as if she is going to break the damned chair.

“Just like they do here,” I say. It’s not a question.

“Just like they do here,” she confirms.

Her eyes are full of the on-coming desperate need to orgasm, mixed with a sense of sorrow.

“Shit,” I curse, realization settling over me with a crushing intensity. When I come to realize the gravity of the truth, it’s like a heavy stone collides with my chest, making it difficult to breathe.

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