Page 49 of Creep
She looks so fucking beautiful covered in blood.
I lap at every drop I can reach, but in this position, it’s not enough. I sink my teeth into the wound and she screams out. Her orgasm hits her full force as her pussy pulses around me and her screams permeate through the room. Her orgasm triggers my own and I shout my release as I pump into her two more times before spilling inside of her. Her tight pussy milks my cock for every last drop as she ever so slowly grinds against me.
I release my teeth from her neck and tilt my head back to gaze at her.
So many thoughts.
So many feelings.
All so fucking confusing.
She quirks the corner of her mouth up in a pathetic attempt at a smile, but I can see the exhaustion dominating her expression. Without removing my eyes from hers, I reach my arm up and pull the slip not. The rope falls from above us and the rope around her neck loosens. I slip from inside of her, shuddering as the chill of the room hits my wet cock and tuck myself back inside of my jeans.
Essa flops to the bed beneath us and begins to slowly work the rope away from her. As she unwinds the last portion and tosses it across the room, I can see the black and blue bruising already forming against her beautifully pale skin. My dick jumps in my jeans at the sight.
I fucking love marking her.
I jump off of the bed and grab my pack of Marlboro’s, pulling one out and lighting it. I sit in the chair next to my bed and take a puff as I watch Essa fall right to sleep. No hesitation, nothing. She must’ve been fucking exhausted because she doesn’t sleep much as it is and when she does, it usually takes her forever to actually pass out.
I sit for a while, chain smoking the rest of my pack before getting up and carrying Essa to her own room. I have too many conflicting feelings I need to deal with right now and having her in the same room as me makes them exceptionally worse.
I lie her down on her bed and watch as her lids flutter for a moment before stilling again. She seems peaceful for once, and for some reason, it’s a look I want to see on her face when she’s actually conscious. Shaking my head, I exit her room and shut the door behind me with a soft click.
Once in my room again, I pick everything up before undressing and flopping down on my mattress face first. I can resume these torturous thoughts in the morning.
23
Essa
I wakethe next morning with an insatiable need to piss. I run to the bathroom and relieve the pressure in my bladder. When I go to wipe, I hiss at the pain. My entire vagina feels bruised and utterly fucking abused. I loved it just as much as I hated it—the same as always. He knows how to bring out the sick and twisted parts of myself better than anyone.
Once I finish on the toilet, I move to the sink to wash my hands and gasp as I catch my reflection in the mirror. My entire neck is black and blue, with the worst of it centered at where the rope was tied around me. I move my hand to touch it, but the second my fingertips make contact with the skin, tears leak from my eyes from the pain. It hurts so fucking bad and that’s not even mentioning everything else that hurts.
The cut along my neck, the teeth marks, the cut up my foot and my leg, my abused nipples. I’m brutalized all over, physically and mentally. I don’t know why I willingly let him do this to me. Except maybe I do. The pain along with the pleasure is so fucking intense individually, but together? It’s fucking nirvana. I get lost in the ecstasy of it all and it consumes me.
But the next fucking day I regret it all when I can barely move more than an inch without wanting to scream out in pain. Pain keeps me centered and whole, but this kind of pain is the consuming kind. You can’t think of anything else other than the agony running through your body and how you’d do anything and everything to be rid of it.
Well, almost anything.
I will never stoop to the same level as my parents. As much as I need an escape, I swore to myself a long time ago I would never go there. I have never tasted alcohol in my life, I have never done a single drug, none of it. And I don’t want to either.
Forcing those thoughts from my head, I jump into the shower, hoping when I wash all of this blood and filth off of me, the water will also somehow manage to wash the pain away too.
It didn’t work.
* * *
I’m rummagingthrough the fridge, searching for something to eat, but don’t find anything I’m in the mood for. I spin and slam the fridge shut, coming face to face with a—dare I say—happy looking Vincent.
“I’ve got an idea of something for us to do today, baby doll. Get your shoes on and let’s go.”
“But I’m hungry,” I argue.
“Shut up. You can eat later. Let’s go.” He grips my upper arm and drags me to the front door, not giving me a choice. Rolling my eyes, I slip my Converse on before we step outside. I make my way to the car, but Vincent heads in the opposite direction. My steps falter for a moment as I watch him walk towards the woods surrounding us.
Confusion clouds my mind as I watch him step into the tree line, stopping right next to the red-stained tree before turning around to face me with an evil glint to his eyes.
He fucking stopped right there on purpose.
