Page 4 of Lethal
You could peel them back,a deep voice hums.Yes, peel back her calm. Unlace her throat,another one agrees.I bet her blood smells better than honey, better than anything we’ve ever consumed.
My lips widen as I smile at the ceiling. I like it when the voices are in agreement; it’s less painful and noisy in my head. She’s so sexy in those stockings, a sweet, delicate treat,good enough to eat, and I’m famished. The image of her toned legs reenters my mind, as I picture myself down on my knees before her, my fingers grasping her ankles, tightening around the delicate skin, and forcing her legs to spread underneath that prim and proper skirt she was wearing. My fingers trail up the soft skin of her calf, feeling her tremble in my grasp, until I reach her knee and cup the back of it, applying a little more pressure. She’s trying to control her breathing,always in control, and I long to free her from its bonds.
She would look prettier with blood trickling down her legs, pooling at her feet, from how hard we fuck and break her,one of the male voices groans.Shhh, don’t ruin it, it’s just getting good now,a female voice whimpers.
I use my other hand to yank up her unflattering gray skirt, exposing her creamy thighs, and the top of the nude garters that I long to rip from her body. My mouth salivates with the desire to bite into her flesh, leaving behind the imprint of my teeth, so that when she bathes later on, it will be a reminder of who owns her. I slip my fingers to the front of my joggers, pushing the front of the material down until my hard cock springs forward, beads of precum already coating the surface, and begging to be introduced to the sweet pussy I can glimpse the outline of, behind her matching nude-colored cotton underwear she wears. So proper, so simple, my porcelain doll, I need to bloody her up, and corrupt her.
I press my throbbing cock against her leg, rubbing its long, warm length against the inside of her knee, and spreading my essence, as her breath halts with a small, satisfying gasp.That’s it, baby, give me what I want.My other hand continues softly on its exploration, trailing my fingers over unblemished skin, until I reach the apex of where her legs meet the place I long to explore. A soft moan, almost imperceptible, catches my ear, as I allow my middle finger to trace a line down the front of herpanties, indenting the fabric as it shields her pussy lips from my hungry eyes. Her body twitches under my ministrations, and perusal. I raise my eyes and stare into her dilated, dark chocolate orbs, before she breaks the connection, and her head angles as she strains in her chair. Her breathing has picked up, a pink flush gracing her chest, between the folds of her blouse, and causing her round breasts to push against the fabric.
“Show me, dolly, show me those perfect breasts,” I demand, my voice hoarse with the effort to restrain myself from ripping the offending material off of her, so my eyes can get their fill.Rip it off, and gag her with it,one of the male voices demands, but I ignore their request. I want her to obey me, instead of me forcing her, at least for now.
Her slender fingers leave the arms of the chair, and slowly slide along the front of her blouse until she reaches the first button. The corner of her lips rises slightly, as her teeth bite down on her bottom lip, and she slips the first button free, followed by the next and the one after that, until her blouse is spread open, displaying her breasts in a sheer nude bra. Her dark rose nipples are hard, pushing against the fragile fabric. My fingers release my cock, as I grab onto one of her bra cups and tear it down, releasing her from its restrictive fabric, and my thumb strums at her hard peak.
“Fuck,”the word leaves her lips in a gasp, as I pinch her nipple between my thumb and forefinger, while leaning forward until my warm breath skates along her flesh, causing goose bumps to rise on its surface.
“Do you think you could come, just from my fingers playing with your tits, dolly?” I question, as I pull sharply on the elongated peak, and a small moan exits her lips. “Answer me when I question you, or I’ll punish you,” I growl.
“Maybe, but I would rather you fill me up.” She moans again as I repeat the action, her legs spreading as wide as the chairwill allow. My eyes slide down her torso and back to her panty-covered pussy, debating if I want to grant her request, or punish her anyway. A small wet spot appears on the fabric, and it brings me so much pleasure to see that her body is responding the way I want it to.
“Play with your tits, doctor. Don’t stop until I tell you to,” I instruct, as I allow my fingers to slip underneath the elastic band of her panties, and run down her slick slit. “So wet already, you’re a needy bitch, aren’t you, doctor?”
“Mmmm,” she moans as she twists her nipple with her fingers, her eyes closing as she allows all the sensations to overtake her. She’s not afraid of me at this moment, and I don’t know if that knowledge pleases me or not. I decide it doesn’t, my other hand whipping forward and wrapping tightly around her neck, stopping all possibilities of air reaching her lungs, as her body bucks against the chair and her eyes dart open, the fear I long to see clearly on display now.
“I decide when, and if, you take your next breath, slut. I decide if you’ll be breathing after I’m done fucking this pretty, pink pussy. You belong to me now, broken dolly.” I plunge two of my thick fingers inside her tight hole without warning. Her core instantly clenches around them like a vice, as her body tries to bow off the chair, but my grip on her neck just tightens further until her face is turning a lovely shade of eggplant, and a tear is sliding from the corner of her eye, making a path down her delicate cheekbone. “Fuck yourself on my fingers like your life depends on it, Doctor, because it fucking does. If you don’t please me, I’ll make sure today is your last day on this miserable earth.”
My cock throbs painfully, and my balls are so tight that they threaten to explode. She begins to move her body, riding my fingers like the naughty whore I knew she would be, under her professional exterior. Her wetness coats my fingers, and soaksthe palm of my hand, as she picks up speed, riding me hard, and undulating her lower body on the chair, trying to take me deeper. I lean forward and bite down hard on her exposed nipple, then lash it with my tongue, the hit of pain adding to all of the emotions soaring through her. I loosen my grip, allowing her to inhale some needed oxygen, and her mouth opens in a scream she can’t release. My eyes scrutinize her, for her tells of when she is close to cumming. Her pussy strangles my fingers like I want her to choke my cock. Beads of precum slip from my mushroom tip, and coat her knees and thighs.
“Close your legs tight around my cock,” I demand with a grunt, as she immediately complies, and I thrust against her heated flesh, fucking myself between her knees. My other hand leaves her throat and delves into her hair, yanking on the strands until I feel them ripping from her skull. I’m so worked up, and it’s been so long since I’ve been with anyone, other than my hand, that I have no way of lasting. I can feel the electricity zinging down my spine, and into my balls, as my breaths heave harshly in and out of my chest.
“Tighter, squeeze my cock harder, or I’ll rip out your throat!” I growl, as my fingers return to her neck, and I dig them savagely into her flesh. I feel her orgasm roll through her, a scream lodging in her throat as her eyes roll to the back of her head. “That’s my pretty whore, milk my cock,” I groan as the first spurts of cum shoot from my tip, and coat her lap. Her body goes lax as her orgasm subsides, and I slip my fingers from inside of her warm pussy, coating my soaked digits in my ropes of cum, and bringing them to her open mouth. I press my digits to the back of her throat, forcing her to swallow. Her gag reflex immediately kicks in, but my grip on her neck prevents her from stopping me. I pull them out and swipe them on her tongue, so she can taste the combination of us together. I’ll bet we taste delicious.
My body shudders, as the remainder of my cum leaves my body in warm, gratifying spurts, and coats her legs and stomach. Fuck, she’s a beautiful sight covered in my semen, but I bet she would be even prettier if she were also covered in blood. “You did so well, Doctor. The perfect whore for me.” I remove my fingers from her mouth, smearing the combination of our cum and her saliva along the side of her face. Tears slide steadily down her cheeks, and the mixture of them, and the drool pooling on her chin, makes her look stunning. A piece of sultry art, tarnished, and just waiting for me to make it even better. “Next time, I’ll fuck this beautiful mouth and take your air away. I might even let you breathe once again when I’m done. Then again, I might not.” I smirk.
I’m ripped from the fantasy, my head thrashing back and forth on my flat pillow, as I re-center myself with my rundown room in Wellard Asylum, and a sense of loss and disappointment immediately fills me. My hand is ruthlessly wrapped around my exposed cock, constricting it, as cum soaks through the fabric of my shirt, dampening my skin. My breath wheezes out of me, my heart finally slowing its rapid gallop, and returning to its semi-normal rhythm. Fuck, I lost control and didn’t even realize it. I can’t even blame the voices. This was all me. I turn my head and stare in my brother’s direction. His back is now to me, but I can tell, by the rigid way he’s holding his shoulders, that he’s still awake, and probably knows I just jerked myself off to thoughts of our psychiatrist. “I want her, Bash,” I declare, as if that’s all I have to say, and he will grant me my wish like an all-knowing, all-powerful genie.
“I know, Wren, I do too.” His voice is quiet, as if he, too, is lost in his thoughts, and it makes me so sad. My brother deserves to have everything he wants. He’s special, so very special.
My sweet, broken doctor dolly is quickly becoming an obsession for me, a craving I don’t want to live without, andthat’s not good, well, at least not for her. None of my previous obsessions are still breathing.
My body begins to tremble from the excess of emotions, and the aftereffects of being in close proximity to Wren and Bash. I brace myself against my abandoned chair, vivid images of Wren’s angry face reappearing in my mind.Breathe... just breathe, and come back to yourself. Take control, so that no one can take it from you.
They’ve gotten under my skin again, and I’ve allowed it. Not in an obvious way one expects of two psychotic serial killers, although Wren’s behavior is closer to what one would anticipatefrom a patient confined to Wellard. Bash, however, manages to do it not with threats, outbursts, or theatrics. Just his mere presence, and those deep gray-blue eyes that tear through me, seeing right into the depths of things that I try desperately to hide. The ugliness that sullies every part of me, and cannot be dragged into the light. He recognizes the darkness in me, the one that must be similar to his. Maybe he can smell that taint, the failure, the deception.
Bash likes the slow, subtle game, the chase. He uses his charm the way other men use knives.Dangerous. Methodical. Broken.He is all those things and so much more, they both are. I’m already in too deep, even after just a dozen sessions, and I feel my willpower and resistance waning. It’s not that I don’t see the evil in them. It oozes from every one of their cells. No, that isn’t the problem at all, it’s that I’m drawn to it, and want to immerse myself in it.That is a huge fucking problem.
“Cat, please, I’m so scared, please come take me from this place. They’re doing things to me, hurting me, Cat, please!”
The urge to vomit, and rage against everything happening all at once fills me, but instead of feeding my needs, I suppress them, forcing my control back into place, like shackles tightly woven over my emotions. I shuffle over to my desk and sit down slowly, my spine still too straight and rigid, and my body still battling fight or flight. My heartbeat echoes in my ears, a deep thumping that causes a headache to begin at my temples. Why am I allowing myself to react this way? I need to get my shit together. This is not me. I am not this person who allows any outside interference with my mission.
The image of a pair of beautiful, dark green eyes, and thick blonde hair, on a sad, small face appears in the forefront of my mind.
“What are you doing, sweetheart? You look so sad.” I sit down beside her, stroking her silky hair, as she clutches tightlyto a stuffed giraffe she should have outgrown the need for long ago. “Didn’t you have dance practice today? Shouldn’t you be at Ms. Hall’s now?”
Her lip trembles, as her nose sinks deep into the giraffe’s soft fur. “I... I didn’t want... to go.” Her voice is so low that I can barely make out the mumbled words, and she won’t meet my gaze.
“Does your mom know you didn’t go?” I question, concern filling me. She loves dance, so why, all of a sudden, doesn’t she want to go? I brush my hand down her back, and she flinches at my touch, causing my eyebrows to shoot right into my hair with confusion. “Did you hurt yourself, sweetie?” I reach for the hem of her shirt, and she leaps off the bed in a rush, as if my touch were burning her.
“I... I just didn’t want to go! It doesn’t matter anyway, why do you care, Cat?!”
